Steve did ballet seriously until he was fourteen , the kind with recitals and teachers who pushed his shoulders down until every muscle shook. He doesn’t talk about it now. It sits in his body instead, in the turnout of his feet when he’s barefoot, in the way his spine still remembers how to bend.
Eddie finds out on a Tuesday.
One minute Steve’s bitching about hauling amps, the next he’s on the rug in the middle of the living room, dropping into a backbend that looks exactly like something out of a black-and-white training photo. His ribs stand out, his hair brushes the air, one hand wrapped around the heel of his opposite foot like it’s nothing.
Eddie is quite literally in shock at this.
“What on earth are you doing, Harrington?” Eddie manages, voice strangled.
“My back hurts,” Steve says, like that explains anything. “I’m stretching.”
“I’ve never seen someone bend that way, man,” Eddie says, because holy shit. “That’s not stretching, that’s… something else”
Steve blinks up at him from upside down. “Huh? We used to do this in class all the time.”
“Class?” Eddie echoes.
“Yeah, ballet?” Steve says it so casually Eddie almost misses it. “Danced for like eight years. Stopped before high school.”
There’s a ringing in Eddie’s ears. “You did what?” he says, strangled, because Steve Harrington, secret ballerina apparently, is already more than his crush-riddled brain can handle, and now all he can think is: if he can bend like that, what else can he do?
He drags his gaze away before he gives himself away completely, shoves his hands in his pockets and tries, desperately, to sound normal. “Cool, yeah.”
Steve’s sitting up now, looking at him with this curious little squint. Eddie squirms. “What?”
Steve huffs, rolls his eyes, and pushes to his feet. “Don’t be weird about it, Munson.”
“No, yeah, I’m not, I’m just— y’know.” He shrugs, hears himself babbling. “Ballerina Steve. Whatever.” He can feel the heat in his cheeks and turns away so Steve can’t see his face hiding under his hair.
From behind him, Steve lets out this half-laugh. “Wanna see something else cool?”
Eddie’s mind trips over itself. What else could he *possibly* have up his sleeve? “Uh. Okay. Yeah. Sure.”
He turns back around—
and Steve’s already moving, spotting some invisible point on the wall and snapping into a clean fourth position before Eddie can even process it. Then he’s turning, fast, tight pirouettes one after another, the kind of spin that should belong on a stage, not in the middle of a dingy living room. His shoulders stay level, his chin locked, feet whispering against the rug in quick, sure steps until he snaps to a stop like someone hit pause.
He’s a little breathless, hair mussed, wearing this self-satisfied smirk that hits Eddie like a truck. “Still just ‘whatever,’ or did I earn an upgrade?”
Eddie’s jaw works uselessly. Words have apparently left the building. All he manages, wide-eyed and bright red, is a breathy, “…cool.”
Steve laughs like that’s the funniest thing he’s heard all week, shakes his head, and claps Eddie on the shoulder as he walks past. “Knew you’d be into that,” he says, halfway under his breath.
Eddie stays rooted to the spot, ears ringing, and realizes two things at once: one, Steve Harrington used to be a ballerina and from what he’s just seen today, he was *good* at it. Two, Steve Harrington is absolutely weaponizing that information against him.
Text of tweet under the cut because it is loooong.
But... Stochastic Parrots.
Timnit Gebru was fired from Google in December 2020 for refusing to retract a research paper, and every single warning that paper made about large language models has now happened at a scale the industry spent 4 years trying to make people forget about.
Her name is Timnit Gebru.
She co-led the Ethical AI team at Google. She co-wrote a paper called "On the Dangers of Stochastic Parrots" with Emily Bender at the University of Washington and two other researchers. The paper was 14 pages long. It was submitted to a top AI ethics conference. And it was the reason Google decided that one of the most senior Black women in AI research could no longer work there.
The story Google told publicly was that she resigned. The story she told, confirmed by 2,695 of her colleagues in an open letter, was that she was fired by email while on vacation because she refused to either retract the paper or remove her name from it.
The paper had not even been published yet.
Here is what she actually wrote, and why every prediction inside it has now come true.
The first warning was about scale itself. Bender and Gebru argued that training ever-larger models on ever-larger scrapes of the internet would produce systems that appeared fluent but had no actual understanding of language. They called these systems stochastic parrots because they would repeat patterns from training data with statistical confidence and zero comprehension. The paper predicted that this apparent intelligence would fool both users and developers into trusting outputs that were structurally incapable of being reliable.
This was 2020. GPT-3 had just come out. The paper predicted the hallucination problem before anyone had a word for it.
The second warning was about bias amplification. The paper documented in detail that internet-scale training data contains systematic overrepresentation of dominant viewpoints and underrepresentation of marginalized ones. The models would not just absorb this bias. They would amplify it, because the optimization process rewards confident outputs, and confidence in language patterns tracks frequency in the training set.
The prediction was that hiring tools built on these models would discriminate against women. That healthcare triage tools would underperform on Black patients. That loan approval systems would entrench inequality while presenting their decisions as neutral algorithmic judgment.
Every one of those things has now been documented in deployment.
Amazon's hiring algorithm penalized resumes that contained the word "women" in any context. Healthcare risk scoring algorithms used by major US hospitals were found to systematically underestimate the medical needs of Black patients. Apple Card's credit algorithm gave wives credit lines 10x lower than their husbands for the same financial profile.
The third warning was about environmental cost. The paper calculated that training a single large language model produced emissions equivalent to the lifetime output of 5 cars. The prediction was that the race to scale would create an environmental footprint that would eventually rival entire industries.
In 2024, Google's emissions were up 48% from 2019, and the company explicitly blamed AI infrastructure. Microsoft's were up 29%, same reason. Both companies have now quietly abandoned the climate commitments they were publicly celebrating the year Gebru was fired.
The fourth warning was about documentation. The paper argued that the training datasets being assembled were too large for anyone to actually audit. Nobody at Google, OpenAI, Meta, or any other lab could tell you with confidence what was in the data their models were trained on. This was not a temporary problem to be solved later. It was a permanent feature of the approach.
In 2023, researchers discovered that the LAION-5B dataset, used to train Stable Diffusion and other major image models, contained thousands of images of child sexual abuse material. The companies that had trained on the dataset had no way of knowing. The paper predicted that category of failure 3 years before it was found.
The fifth warning was the one Google cared about most.
Bender and Gebru argued that the deployment of these systems would centralize linguistic and cultural power in the hands of the small number of companies that could afford to train them. The internet would become a place where the dominant voice was a statistical average of dominant voices, presented as a neutral assistant. Languages underrepresented in the training data would degrade over time as more web content was generated by these systems and fed back into the next training run.
This is now happening in real time. A 2024 study found that 57% of new web content in English is AI-generated or AI-assisted. Researchers studying low-resource languages have documented active degradation in translation quality, because the synthetic content fed back into training is itself worse in those languages.
The paper Google fired her for predicted the model collapse problem before model collapse had a name.
The mechanism behind why this all happened is the part of her work that nobody quotes.
Gebru's argument was not that AI is dangerous in some abstract sci-fi sense. Her argument was that AI is dangerous in a very specific structural sense. The technology was being built by a small group of researchers who shared similar backgrounds, worked at similar companies, and were rewarded for shipping products faster than competitors. The incentive structure made it impossible for safety, ethics, and bias concerns to slow anything down. Anyone inside the system who raised those concerns was either ignored, sidelined, or removed.
She was making that argument from inside Google.
Then Google proved her right by removing her.
The team Google had built to make sure their AI was safe was dismantled in 90 days because they did the job they had been hired to do. Margaret Mitchell, the other co-lead of the Ethical AI team, was fired two months after Gebru for searching through her own emails for evidence of how Gebru had been treated.
Gebru did not stop. She founded DAIR, the Distributed AI Research Institute, in 2021. The mission is to do AI research outside the control of the companies that have a financial interest in not hearing the answers.
Every prediction in the Stochastic Parrots paper has now been validated by deployment. Hallucinations are an industry-wide problem the largest labs cannot solve. Bias amplification has been documented in hiring, healthcare, lending, and criminal justice. Environmental costs are larger than entire small countries. Training data audits remain impossible. Model collapse is an active research crisis at every major lab.
The question worth sitting with is the one almost no one in the industry will say out loud.
Every researcher with the technical credibility to call out these problems watched what happened to her in December 2020 and made a calculation about their own career. The number of people willing to speak publicly about safety and ethics issues inside the major AI labs collapsed after that firing and has not recovered.
The researcher Google fired for warning about exactly what is now happening was right.
The company that fired her is now the second-largest deployer of the technology she warned about.
And the people inside that company who agree with her are not allowed to say so.
Steddie Big Bang 2026 - Project 023 - Love Knottes and Lilyes
Oh, look! More medieval omegaverse from ao3 author StarsHideYourFires. But this time the universe has finally seen fit to pair me with the lovely @lulalulens as my artist and we are going to have so much fun sharing this with you all!
check below the cut for an excerpt
Once she leaves him, Steve checks to make sure Dustin is still distracted by his friends, and he stands. Hugging the wall is easy as he makes his way around the great hall, stopping to chat with one acquaintance or another. He hears of Lady Cunningham's betrothal and Lord Kline's newest bastard, of the falling out of the king with his minister to France and of the hunt planned for after the tourney.
Steve doesn't care a whit for any of it. He has been good, and he has waited. Made his proper appearances, spoken with old friends and allies, been all that beloved Sir Stephen is expected to be. Now, he wants only to see Eddie, to give him his message and hopefully put a smile on his oldest friend's lips. To hear Eddie's rich, warm voice speak his name.
But Eddie has left the great hall. He could be anywhere in the palace or on the grounds. Absolutely anywhere.
Rather than worry, Steve follows his feet through narrow passages and out to the training yards, then further on to the stables. It is dark inside, and quiet, even with all the stalls full. The stable boys must be asleep in the low hayloft, or perhaps they've been given the night to join the revels. Either way, there is only one human figure in the stable, one far too tall to be yet a boy.
A figure masked by shadow, petting Steve's horse. Beatrix leans into the touch, huffing a soft snort of pleasure at the attention. "She always liked you best," Steve says as he approaches, not wanting to startle Eddie or the horse.
"She's a good judge of character," Eddie says without turning to look at him.
"So I should trust you alone with my horse the night before I need her at her best?"
Eddie still does not turn, but hurt colors his voice and his scent. "I mean no mischief with her."
Steve finally crosses into his space, turning Eddie towards him with the gentlest nudge. "And me? Do you mean any mischief with me?" he asks in a whisper.
"My uncle would not like my getting in trouble for bothering a knight; he'd like it less to know the knight was you."
"He sends wishes for your health and asks that you visit when you are next given leave." There, now the message is delivered and Steve may turn his attention fully to Eddie. His curls fall to just past his chin—too long for an alpha of good breeding, but it suits him—and his dark eyes look black in the moonlight. "He misses you. Dearly."
"I miss him always. I miss home." And then Eddie does what he always does when they meet like this, lifting a hand and catching it in Steve's hair. Tugs him that fraction closer and tilts his head to the side; it must be easier now Steve has let his hair grow so long—not appropriate for an alpha of good breeding. Then he ever so delicately dips down to scent at Steve's neck, breathing deeply, drinking in the sweetness Steve works hard to control and cover. "I've missed you," he husks as he raises his head just enough to press his mouth to Steve's ear. Nipping at the lobe he repeats himself, "I've missed you."
Bingo Card: 1990s || Prompt: Nirvana | Song: Come As You Are | Word Count: 8858 | Rating: E | CW: Past Trauma | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: AU, Omegaverse, Meet Ugly, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Alpha Eddie, Omega Steve, Knotting, Happy Ending
Also available on ao3.
It's sweltering. Eddie lifts his shirt, wiping his face. He knows he's only got about three or four good hours left to get this project finished, before he's gotta head home. Hunker down and ride this out.
He stinks. He can smell himself inside the shop, and that's saying something.
Eddie has never enjoyed his rut. Not as a teen right after he presented, and definitely not now that he's got a business to run, with paying customers waiting. It's an annoyance. An inconvenience. And if he could, he'd just skip it. Being a beta sounds pretty damn nice to him.
Unfortunately, he can't change shit about his life, never has been able to, but he promised Wayne he'd get more done before closing up. That much he can make good on. If he's gonna be out of commission for the next three days, he's gotta get ahead.
Problem is, Eddie's never been ahead a day in his life.
Eddie catches the movement from just outside the shop, making him curious. There's a man loitering around, jacket slung over his arm, working his fingers against each other. Eddie's hackles rise, and then go down again.
This guy doesn't look mad. Nor is he slinking around, being shady.
He looks like he's patiently waiting for something. Eddie definitely doesn't have any appointments scheduled, and he doesn't see any cars in need of attention.
"Can I help you?" Eddie hollers. No matter how good looking this guy is, Eddie doesn't have time for anything else. He can't add anything to his plate. He's got maybe an hour before he'll be unfit to be around the public.
Not that Eddie's ever really fit to be around the public. But that's how he likes it. Eddie would prefer it if he never had to actually interact with the customers at all.
This dude included. Maybe especially this dude, because he looks like another alpha. A preppy motherfucker. That's just asking for trouble today. And Eddie? Eddie's been in enough trouble to last a lifetime. He's on the straight and narrow now.
He did his time, and he's never going back inside.
"Just waiting," the guy calls back, not budging. As if he's stuck to the concrete under his feet.
"For what?" Eddie shouts.
"You, I think."
And then he wiggles his fingers in Eddie's direction. A little taunt of a wave if Eddie's ever seen one. Eddie bristles.
He's not buying whatever this dude is selling. He puts down his socket wrench, and steps outside the garage. When he does, it's not his own smell that fills his nose. Nor the familiar one of the garage. His safe haven. His home away from home.
No, now it's him.
Omega.
Fuck. That's not. He's not doing that. Not again.
He's a confirmed bachelor for a reason. He tried the love thing once. Didn't work out so good. And he paid the price for getting entangled like that. Now, he's quite alright with being a lone wolf. Wayne's the only pack he needs.
Eddie yanks down the garage door, slamming it to the concrete, twisting the handle, and jamming his key in the lock. He's left every light on, and his music playing. Wayne's gonna gnaw on his ass later.
Worth it. Because right now, he's leaving. Eddie damn well ain't looking for trouble. Trouble has always been able to find him easy enough as is.
"We're closed," Eddie says, giving this omega a wide berth.
"I'm not here for the shop. I'm here for you," he says, falling in step with Eddie as he heads towards the van.
"For what?" Eddie says, whirling around, holding up his hand, desperate to put some distance between them. Defensive. Suspicious. He doesn't need no more trouble. "Who the hell are you?"
"Steve," he says, cocking his head to the side like Eddie's an idiot, "I moved in recently."
Steve nods down the block. It's too vague to pinpoint where he means. Eddie hasn't exactly been scoping out the other businesses on the street. He keeps to himself. It's smarter to mind your own goddamn business.
"And?" Eddie asks.
"I've been catching whiffs of you all week. Today, you were strong enough to lead me here."
Eddie laughs, kind of meanly, "You sure you ain't an alpha? Hunting people down because they smell good? Like some kind of pervert."
Steve laughs, like he isn't offended by this accusation, holding up his hands. A sign of coming in peace. Eddie doesn't feel peace at all.
"I wasn't expecting someone so surly," Steve says, but seems absolutely unbothered that Eddie is clearly very bothered.
"Yeah, well. Here I am. I'm surly on a good day, and this ain't a good day. Now, I gotta go," Eddie says, making a move towards his driver's door.
Steve slides forward, closing in on Eddie again. He's even taller than Eddie realized. Bigger. As tall as Eddie is, and definitely sturdier. An outlier of an omega.
"You smell good."
"I smell like motor oil and multi-generational disappointment. Move," Eddie says, and Steve smiles, barely stepping to the side, as he grins like an idiot. Eddie doesn't return the gesture.
Eddie's never been cornered by an omega before. It's fucking bizarre.
Steve lifts his chin, takes a deep breath, sucking in a lungful of air through his nose. Like he's trying to catch even more of Eddie's scent. It feels invasive. Intrusive. And Eddie does not like intrusiveness.
"You're going into a rut."
"The fuck is that to you?" Eddie snaps. What a freak.
"You want some help?"
Eddie slams the van door, and Steve curls both of his hands around the open window frame, hanging on. Maybe he's a prostitute. He doesn't look like one, with his stupid, little polo shirt tucked into his jeans, but Eddie doesn't fucking know. You can't judge a book by its cover, and all that shit.
There ain't no way in fucking hell Eddie would ever fall for whatever this trap is. He wasn't born yesterday. He's been around every block, and he ain't going down that road again for love nor money. Definitely not for omega pussy. The State of Indiana can fuck right off.
"No means no," Eddie says, turning over the key, jamming it into reverse. Steve lets go, and Eddie kicks up gravel as he peels out.
Five days, and a whole lot of chaffing later, Eddie's back at the shop. That was the worst rut he's ever had, and he's had some doozies. Now, he's slid under a pickup with a leaky oil pan, and about two extra days behind on work. Of course he is.
"Hey, uh, you…under there," a voice calls out.
Eddie creeps out from under the truck and it's Steve. Fucking Steve. The pushy omega.
Steve is squatted down. Smiling awkwardly. Eddie pulls off his mask, and now he can smell him. He's throwing off a whole lot of confusing scents.
Mainly shame.
So, probably not a prostitute.
Eddie is still flummoxed by that interaction they had, but he wouldn't have forgotten his scent. It was burned into his nose for days. Eddie blames it for his horrendous rut, honestly.
"Hi," Steve says, "uh, I think I owe you an apology."
Eddie waves him off. It's fine. No harm, no foul.
"It's fine," Eddie says.
"It's not. I don't even think I got your name before I tried to lure you into bed," Steve says, looking sheepish.
Eddie laughs, more amused today than he was the other day. Not being on the precipice of going into a rut will do wonders for his general disposition.
"I'm Eddie," Eddie offers.
"Well, Eddie, I'm sorry. And embarrassed. I'm not usually so…"
"Forward?" Eddie supplies.
"I was gonna go with whorish, but forward is sure nicer."
Eddie laughs.
"It's fine. Never been stalked by an omega before. That was a new one."
Steve smiles, "Yeah, well. I'm not exactly conventional. I didn't even know I was going into heat. I wasn't due. Not that I'm regular. But still. You just," he says, looking away, "you smelled so good. And apparently that means I thought it was a good idea to do whatever the hell that was. Sorry."
Nobody ever tells Eddie he smells good. Off-putting, yes. Good? No. This guy's nose is clearly malfunctioning.
"It's fine, I mean. It happens. Probably. Not to me. But I know you didn't really want me. You don't even know me. You can do much better than this."
Steve huffs out a rueful laugh.
"I don't know about that," Steve says, eyes cutting away. Scent giving off distressed omega, which is alpha kryptonite, at least to Eddie. That's why Eddie tries to just keep his distance.
But that's not an option today.
Honestly, though. Is Steve nuts? He's gorgeous. Eddie has the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand, but his hands are greasy, so he stops himself. However, Steve looks so pale and clammy, Eddie changes his mind and does it anyway. Hands will wash.
He gives Steve's hand a squeeze, and Steve squeezes back. His hand is far too warm.
"It's really fine."
Steve sags, like a relief has washed over him. Eddie laces his fingers with Steve's, holding on. Pressing their wrists together awkwardly. Trying to soothe him. Eddie's not good at this. Comforting omegas. Comforting anyone. He's out of practice, if he was ever in practice in the first place.
But Wayne would have his ass if he didn't at least pretend to act like the gentleman he's most certainly not.
"Are you okay?" Eddie asks.
"Yeah. I'm just fucked up. My body," Steve says, and he reaches up and wipes his free hand all the way down his face. "I think the other day threw me into some kind of temporary rejection sickness. From an alpha I didn't even know the name of, and chased down like a lunatic. How fucked up is that?"
Eddie swallows.
Steve keeps talking.
"They warned me things would go fucking haywire if I didn't find someone, anyone, to mate with. That time was ticking. That I was too picky for my own good. That this is my own fault. If I'd just take a knot, everything would settle down. Like I'm some sort of ancient, old hag at forty-one for not being mated."
Eddie moves closer, touching Steve's cheek with his other dirty palm. Steve doesn't seem to mind, not with the way he leans into it.
"You're definitely not an old hag."
"And you're not so surly now," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.
"Yeah, well. Let's keep that between us?"
Steve nods.
"I'm sorry I was so forward," Steve says. "I'm unconventional. Just ask my parents and my doctors. It's a nice way of saying I'm a freak."
Eddie smiles, "Well. That makes two of us."
Steve grins at him. So, Eddie continues.
"There's nothing wrong with waiting. It's smart. I didn't get mated, but I got real close once. It was a bad idea. Beyond bad. And when the dust settled, I knew I'd never do it again. Not getting yourself into that position is smart, Steve. You've been smart."
Steve nods, "I'm not even looking these days. Maybe I was being picky at first, and then I just got used to being independent. Perhaps to my own detriment. But I swear I've never acted like I did the other day. I'm so embarrassed."
"Don't be," Eddie says, "biology is fucking weird sometimes. No hard feelings."
Steve nods, and pulls his hand out of Eddie's and Eddie lets him go. Steve looks exhausted.
"Thank you, for not taking advantage."
Eddie's heart squeezes.
"Not that I wasn't willing, I was, but that definitely wasn't me. Not the normal me, anyway."
Eddie nods. Steve's surprise heat probably zapped him, just like Eddie's rut did. Eddie's not really one for company, or for an audience while he works, but, well. A sucker is born every minute. Eddie has always been proof of that.
And he wouldn't mind getting to know the real Steve. He seems like an okay dude after all. So, Eddie makes an offer.
"Listen, I got some more work to do, but if you wanna hang out around here you can."
"Yeah, definitely," Steve says, smiling like Eddie's really offered him something, so Eddie rolls out his office chair, the nicest thing they've got around here, so Steve can sit right next to the pickup slides back under.
And Steve talks, asking Eddie questions. About the shop. About his life. About everything. He tells him that his parents didn't expect an omega son, and kinda fucked him up about it for a long time. By the time he'd gotten his head on straight, he was already old by unmated omega standards. Set in his ways.
It snowballed from there.
Eddie knows a thing or two about things snowballing out of your control.
And when Eddie rolls out from under the vehicle again, oil pan fixed, oil changed, Steve's got color in his face, at least more than he had earlier, and Eddie kinda feels like he's made a friend.
In perhaps the weirdest way possible. But still. Having Steve's company wasn't half bad.
When he's locking up for the night, Steve standing nearby, Eddie looks at him, "Friends?"
Steve smiles, "Friends. Definitely."
"Need a ride home?"
"Nah, I'm right over there," Steve says, and Eddie quickly realizes he meant that. Because Steve walks right next door to the small house. It's been empty for a long time, until it wasn't.
Steve.
He wasn't gesturing towards downtown, he was nodding next door.
Eddie guesses that means they're neighbors. That explains why Steve must have thought he needed to smooth things over.
They're gonna be in the same vicinity, like it or not.
Eddie thinks he might like it.
After that, Steve Harrington is around on the regular. Eddie finds he doesn't mind. He even misses him being around when he goes missing for a few days in a row, always coming back looking like he's been wrung out. Migraines, he says.
He also suspects that Steve wasn't experiencing rejection sickness, but isolation sickness. Eddie's a loner, but Steve Harrington is alone. He has a beta best friend across the country that he talks about, but that's it.
He's starved for companionship, for touch, and Eddie likes a project. Always has, always will.
Steve always disappears as soon as any other alpha turns up. After the first few times of getting what was clearly unwanted attention, he made it a habit to slink off into Eddie's office and hide until Eddie's alone again. If he hears Wayne's truck pull up out back, it's like he vanishes into thin air.
Just like he just did, moments earlier. Eddie was mid-sentence.
Eddie doesn't really get it. He's gorgeous. But it sure explains why he doesn't have an alpha if he hides from every one he crosses paths with. Eddie's sure there's more to that story, there has to be, but he hasn't pressed Steve to explain why he's so isolated from the world.
That's fine. Eddie hasn't explained all his damage either.
Eddie hears the back door open and close.
Wayne scents the air.
"Okay, kid. I gotta ask if you're not gonna tell me on your own. That omega smell is all over this shop, what's going on?" Wayne asks.
"I've told you. That's Steve," Eddie answers, bent over the car that's pulled into the shop. A customer reported a clanking noise that Eddie's trying to pinpoint.
"Steve, who I've never seen hide nor hair of, not even once."
"Yep. Lives next door. I've told you that."
Wayne makes a noise of disbelief, and Eddie turns his head to look at him.
"What? You think I'm lyin'?"
Wayne shakes his head, but it sure looks like he doesn't believe Eddie.
"No. Just. What's he after?" Wayne asks.
"Nothing. Company," Eddie says, "A friend. I'm his friend."
"And you're sure he's not looking to bring you trouble?" Wayne asks, and Eddie shakes his head. He's pretty sure that's not the case. But his mind obviously thought that, too, at least at first.
"He's not."
Wayne nods.
"Fine, you sure you're not, you know, courting him, then?"
Eddie laughs, "No. We're just friends."
"And yet he hides from me," Wayne prods.
"He hides from everyone. You ain't special, old man."
"Doesn't seem like he hides from you," Wayne says pointedly, but Eddie doesn't take the bait. Just goes back to working on the car.
Steve is allowed to pick and choose who he wants to interact with, and if that list is so short that it's only Eddie, well, then so be it.
"You really don't have anybody? No mate? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Nothing?" Steve asks one night. All the extra shop lights are turned on so Eddie can work late into the night. Steve must have seen him working, because he wandered over an hour ago. Now Eddie's being grilled.
No good deed goes unpunished.
"Nothing. Really," Eddie says.
"Crazy," Steve mutters, but if Steve doesn't have someone, Eddie doesn't know why Steve thinks Eddie should.
"Why? You don't have anybody either. It's not a requirement," Eddie banters back, and Steve laughs, rolling around in Eddie's office chair that he drags out whenever he comes to visit.
If it low-key smells like omega, like Steve, all the goddamn time now, Eddie pretends to ignore it.
"You're just nice, is all," Steve says. "Kind."
Eddie cackles, "If you say so."
The next day, Eddie's patching a tire while Steve organizes a filing cabinet. Eddie didn't ask him to, but if he wants to, well, he can knock himself out. It's nice. Being together, but not feeling the urge to fill all the quiet spaces.
"Eddie?" Steve says, speaking for the first time in an hour, as if he could read Eddie's mind and just wanted to prove him wrong. It makes Eddie smile.
"What's up?" Eddie asks.
"I'm gonna go home. I don't feel good," Steve says, and that gets Eddie to look at him.
Fuck, he doesn't look good.
Eddie stands without realizing he's doing it.
"Here," Eddie says, leading him to the dirty couch in the corner of the office. Steve sits next to him, and Eddie pulls his face closer, until his nose is buried into Eddie's neck, Eddie's hand pressed to Steve's forehead. He's burning up.
It's weird. It's been so long since he's touched anyone like this. He doesn't really understand why Steve, who is so standoffish with the rest of the world, has taken to him. Eddie thought he'd made himself scary and unapproachable. With his hair, and tattoos, and outwardly surly disposition. Steve Harrington just doesn't care about any of that, apparently.
"Better?" Eddie asks after a few minutes. Steve nods, pulling back and resting his head on Eddie's shoulder for a brief moment, before pulling away. Eddie's not his alpha, but he is an alpha.
And if he can help him feel better, he will.
Eddie discreetly scents him. Smells like regular Steve. Now that he's confident that Steve's not in danger, he encourages Steve to go home and rest.
"Go home. Take a nap. I'll bring dinner over after I close. Deal?" Eddie asks.
"Deal."
"Wayne made fried chicken!" Eddie shouts, kicking Steve's front door closed with his foot as he balances the bowls of food covered in foil.
Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, homemade gravy, corn, rolls. The works. If Eddie didn't know better he'd think Wayne was trying to woo Steve. Well, maybe he is. Woo him out of hiding.
Steve comes in, and he's riper than usual.
Eddie can't pinpoint what's going on. His first instinct is heat but Steve smells like this all the time. There should be a much bigger change.
"You feeling any better?" Eddie asks, and Steve raises his hand, rotating it in a wishy-washing movement.
"Eh," Steve says, and Eddie's not gonna overstay his welcome. Not if he doesn't feel good. If he's got a migraine, he doesn't need Eddie's loud ass here.
"Eat, I'll see you when you're feeling better," Eddie says, and Steve nods.
Steve doesn't show up. And keeps not showing up. By day seven, Eddie's officially worried sick.
Eddie makes his way over after he closes the garage, and grabs the spare key from the top of Steve's door frame.
In case of emergency. Eddie deems this as such.
"Steve?" Eddie calls out, and there's no answer, so he climbs the stairs, and he smells him before he sees him.
Pushing open the door, Eddie can see that his nest is full of Eddie's things. The whole room smells like oil, sweat and a hint of gasoline. It's. Well, it's a lot.
Under that, Eddie can smell Steve. His sweat, his slick. Eddie flares his nostrils, closing his eyes as he breathes deep. Steve's curled up in the middle of it, hair so wet it's clinging to his forehead, his neck. Curling around the edges. Eddie's never seen him look like that.
"Steve, are you okay?" Eddie asks, and Steve jolts.
Eddie holds up his hands, "Hey. You're okay. It's just me. You haven't come by in a week. I was worried."
Steve nods his head, laying it back down on his pillow, "It's bad this time. It'll let up eventually. Or I'll die. I don't have a preference at this point."
Steve might not have a preference, but Eddie sure does. Steve's not dying on his watch.
"Can I do anything for you?"
"Could I scent you?"
Eddie doesn't mind him doing it, but it feels like he's overstepping. He barged into Steve's house, and now into his nest? While he's in heat? He is in heat, Eddie thinks, but he just smells like Steve always smells.
Still, what choice does he have? Steve is suffering.
"Okay," Eddie says, shedding his jacket.
He sits down awkwardly on the edge of his bed, and assumes Steve is gonna scoot over and press his nose into Eddie's neck.
Eddie was wrong.
Steve crawls around until he's got his nose pressed into Eddie's groin. Where he smells strongest. He's not touching him, but he's close.
Fuck. Eddie's got control. He's not a young pup. But this is asking for a lot.
Steve's fingers grip Eddie's forearm, and the skin on them is pruny, and Eddie knows why. He can't think about that.
Steve's resting his head on Eddie's thigh now, and his purr is vibrating them both.
"That's it," Eddie says, petting Steve's hair.
"I'm tired," Steve says.
And Eddie imagines he is.
"Are you in heat?" Eddie asks.
Steve shrugs, "Always kinda am, I think," he mumbles. That explains a lot. The lack of change in his scent, the fact that he always makes himself scarce around other alphas.
He trusts Eddie. Eddie swallows. Tightening his grip on Steve's shoulder. Fuck. Steve's really gotta develop a plan before it gets this bad again. This can't keep happening. Not like this. It can't be good for him. You aren't meant to always be in heat.
"You're gonna have to line something up for next time," Eddie says gently.
Steve groans at the suggestion, his scent souring around the edges.
"I know you don't want to, but this feels dangerous."
This time, Steve nods ever so slightly
"I know. They're getting closer together and longer. Kinda all the time, on some level."
They definitely are if Eddie's never been able to tell the difference. It feels like Steve must always be on the way into or on the way out of a heat.
Fucking hell.
"It'll be okay. It'll be better. You'll see."
Now that Eddie knows, Steve has stopped hiding it, and Eddie realizes his migraine problem has been greatly exaggerated.
He doesn't have a headache problem, he has a heat problem.
And another fucking heat is already ramping up. Eddie feels like Steve's last one just ended days ago. He can smell the difference now that he knows Steve's pretty consistently in a low-grade heat at best.
"Steve."
"Don't even," Steve says, sitting down at the table.
Eddie's never seen anything like it. He's given him undershirts, and once, his sweaty handkerchief. The last time the shop rag truck came around, Eddie looked in the barrel and realized he really didn't have that many to send out to be laundered. Like, they'd all up and walked away. When the uniform truck came a week later, that's when Eddie realized someone had helped themselves to his stinky things.
Seeing his nest just confirmed it.
He orders more shop rags, and another set of uniform shirts. He'll just have to take at least one home every night, and then bring them back in when it's time for them to send them out to be laundered if he wants to keep them away from Steve's sticky fingers.
Steve clearly wasn't lying when he said he liked Eddie's scent, even if Eddie thinks that's kinda nuts. Eddie doesn't smell good.
Still, Steve needs to find heat help. And sooner rather than later.
And it's not gonna be Eddie. Not that Steve has come onto him again, or asked for that, he definitely hasn't, and Eddie's not about to offer. If Steve didn't try to get anything out of him in his nest the other day, he's pretty sure they're totally past that weird first encounter.
Which is good.
That'd be too messy. And Eddie's not looking for messy. He likes Steve and he doesn't want to fuck up a good thing. They're friends. Great friends, now.
Still. Dude needs laid.
And, well, maybe Steve is being too picky. A heat service, anything, might calm his instincts down. Something is haywire and in overdrive. He can't go on like this indefinitely. He needs a fucking knot. Dirty, greasy shop towels ain't gonna cut it.
But Eddie's definitely not gonna be another person in Steve's life to insist that Steve's doing something wrong with his own body.
"Are you a virgin?" Eddie asks a week later when Steve's only in a mild heat, not the full throes.
Steve laughs, "No? Where'd you get that idea?"
Eddie chuckles. Fuck, he doesn't know. It was stupid.
"Sorry, I don't know. Ignore me," Eddie says, taking a big bite of his sandwich.
"I've never been knotted, but I've had sex. Plenty. I'm not celibate. I'll have you know I was a babe in my youth."
Eddie nearly chokes, and tries to recover with even a trace of dignity. It's impossible. Steve's laughing.
He's still a babe now.
"Just never took a knot. Despite all the alpha whining I had to endure as they tried to cajole me into it."
"Never?" Eddie asks.
"Never," Steve confirms. "I just. I dug my heels in, just because I could. I'm stubborn. And then it went on for too long, that just letting some random alpha knot me seemed stupid. When I find one I think is worth it, if I do, then I'll do it. I'm not a prude. Furthest from it. I like sex. Love it. Am good at it, thank you very much," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. Fond.
"But being tied to some asshole alpha just to get my pussy filled wasn't my idea of fun."
Eddie nods. Fair enough. It's not like he has room to talk. It's been years, nearly twenty, since he's done it himself. There's a vulnerability to it, from both sides, and Eddie's just not into doing that with random omegas he can pick up in the bar on the bad side of town.
But Steve's never gonna meet the one, because the only person he ever interacts with, as far as Eddie knows, is Eddie.
Steve continues. "And right now it feels too dangerous to have casual sex. I'm in a drought, man. Dire times, indeed. But I'm always giving off the scent like I'm in heat these days. Alphas react to that. Well, most of them do, anyway."
It's pointed. It's not that Eddie hasn't reacted. Steve smells good. Always. Of course he does. But Eddie can control himself, and eventually he'd decided that that's just what Steve smells like. Eddie didn't fucking realize he was just always in some level of a heat. That's insane. Nobody lives like that.
Except Steve, apparently.
"I'm not scared of alphas. I know you think I am. But I know I can hold my own. I'd just rather not have to, you know?"
Eddie nods, and brushes his fingertips against Steve's wrist. Lightly marking him.
Steve brings his wrist to his nose, and inhales.
"How long have you been having this many heats?" Eddie's never seen someone have this many. It cannot be good for him.
"Since about the time I moved here. I mean, I was already having them way too often. But there were clear breaks, you know? Now, not so much."
Eddie hums in disapproval.
"Have you ever been in love?" Steve asks, as if that's the next logical part of this conversation. Maybe it is.
Eddie nods curtly, "Once. You?"
Steve shrugs, "It was always pretty one-sided."
"You just weren't that into them," Eddie confirms, or so he thinks. Steve shakes his head.
"No, they weren't that into me. Story of my life."
Eddie can't imagine how that could possibly be true. Steve's a catch. How he hasn't been caught is beyond Eddie's comprehension. If Eddie was in the market…and yeah, that's not a road he's gonna go down. Not now. Not ever.
"Then they weren't worth your love," Eddie states, and Steve smiles, but it's sad around the edges.
"I wish I believed that. I believe in love, at my core. I want to give love, and have that person want me to love them. I want to be someone's mate. Someone's whole world."
Eddie feels his gut twist with guilt that he's blatantly ignoring the fact that he could love Steve. Does love him. Eddie's just not a good partner, or alpha. Hell, if you ask some people in this town, he's not even a good person.
Steve deserves better.
"Anybody would be lucky to be loved by you," Eddie says.
"Yeah, sure," Steve says, like he doesn't believe a word Eddie's saying. It frustrates Eddie.
"No, really. The luckiest."
Steve smiles at him, and Eddie returns it.
"C'mon. It's time for lunch."
The next time Steve comes into the shop, Eddie can smell him first, then he sees his shoes.
"Steven. What can I do for you today?" Eddie teases from under the car.
"You think it's the knot I need or just a big ol' load of alpha come?" Steve asks out of the blue, so fucking bluntly, that Eddie nearly bangs his head on the undercarriage of this car he's working on.
Fuck. Well. That's an image.
"Eddie? Are you listening?" Steve questions.
"I'm listening," Eddie confirms, "I mean. I don't know. Which one is less horrifying to you?"
"Definitely the latter," Steve says, moving to sit down cross-legged by the car. Tilting his whole body nearly in half, so he can see Eddie. "Options I've come up with so far: One-night stand. Hooker. Sperm bank."
Eddie tinkers some more, but isn't really doing shit. He's far too distracted.
"What do you think?"
Eddie swallows, "The last one."
"Yeah, I think so, too."
The universe hates Eddie. Because they are still talking about this.
"The sperm bank said I'm too old, which, rude. I wasn't trying to get pregnant, and I explained that to them," Steve bitches, feet up on Eddie's desk, as he eats his burger. Steve had brought lunch and bad news. "They looked at me like I was some kind of pervert."
"Well, that is rude," Eddie agrees, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.
"I guess I'll have to get black market street sperm," Steve says, and Eddie swallows a bite so big that it scratches his throat, giving him a moment of fear that he's gonna choke to death.
"Don't do that," Eddie quickly says, once he's dislodged it from his throat.
"You have a better idea?" Steve asks.
Well, fuck. If it means they can stop talking about this, Eddie will make a donation to the cause.
"I mean, I could jerk off in a cup. If you want. At least you'll know it's, you know, sanitary," Eddie says, blundering over his words. Sanitary? What the fuck. It's the most insane thing he's ever said, he's certain.
Steve laughs, like he's delighted that Eddie had to force those words out of his mouth. Asshole.
"Sanitary," Steve repeats, taunting him.
"You know what I mean. Don't do anything illegal. That's a bad idea. I've got come. Like, what am I doing with it?"
He sounds like a fucking idiot, but Steve is just staring at him. Looking far too hopeful.
"You really would?"
And even if he knows it's a stupid idea, Eddie nods.
Eddie squeezes his knot, milking another load out of himself into the little plastic cup. This is insanity. Purely chaotic behavior that they're both participating in right now. Eddie has lost his mind right along with Steve.
He draws it up into the baster Steve had given him.
It's still warm when he delivers it to Steve's door. Standing on his porch, waiting for the weirdest hand-off in history.
Steve waves him inside, damp hair plastered to his forehead. Eddie follows, but wasn't prepared for Steve to hike up his leg onto his kitchen chair, sliding the baster up the leg of his shorts, and well. Fuck. Steve's head is tilted back, throat exposed, and Eddie wants to bite.
Eddie wants to bite him more than he's ever wanted to bite anyone. Stupid fucking instincts. They've only ever gotten him into trouble.
He needs to get out of here. The smell of Steve this deep in heat, mixed with the scent of Eddie's own come now coating Steve's insides is too much.
"Better?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods, pulling the plastic out of himself, bringing it to his nose, giving it a sniff, before he licks the end of the empty baster.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Steve," Eddie says, and his dick is rock hard again. He's gotta be too old for that to be the case, at least outside of a rut, but goddamn if it ain't pressing against his zipper painfully right now.
"Figured it couldn't hurt," Steve says. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. See you soon, hopefully," Eddie says, and then rushes out the door, and back across the lawn.
If he jerks off in the garage bathroom like he's a teenager again, that's his own goddamn business.
Steve reports that it helped, but that it was only a temporary improvement. Knot. He needs a knot.
Eddie isn't jealous. He isn't.
Together they look at all the heat services around, trying to find one that seems promising and on the up and up.
Steve has a binder spread out in front of him. Eddie looks over his shoulder. Alphas. Lots and lots of alphas. All vetted. All perfectly safe options.
The best heat service in the state. Expensive. Very expensive.
Eddie hates them all.
"How do I pick one?" Steve asks, thumbing through the pages, like he's disinterested.
"By smell?" Eddie suggests. Eddie thinks that's what you're supposed to do.
Steve scratches at a sticker on the sheet, and Eddie wrinkles his nose. Scratch and sniff alphas. What has the world come to?
"Not that one. Gross," Eddie says, reaching down and flipping the page.
Steve scratches the next one. Worse. It's worse.
"They all smell bad," Steve huffs.
"They can't all smell bad."
"Well, they do!" Steve snaps.
Eddie reaches down and takes the book, flips to the front, and then the back. There. An index. Full of different top notes and the pages they can be found on. Some are obviously far more common than others. There are 24 entries under coffee.
"Cedar?"
"No."
"Whiskey?"
"No."
"Fresh cut grass."
"I'm allergic," Steve says haughtily.
"Well, what smells good to you then, your highness?" Eddie asks, and Steve looks up at him, giving him the look.
Eddie rolls his eyes.
"Well, I'm so sorry my stinky garage notes aren't commonplace," Eddie banters back, and Steve laughs, snatching the book back. Slamming the binder closed, pushing it away.
"I'm not doing this. I don't want to."
Eddie wants to shake him, "Steve. You're gonna hurt yourself."
Steve crosses his arms across his chest, and man, is he a stubborn fucker. He looks like a petulant child, not a middle-aged man with the first streaks of gray in his hair. Eddie's been going gray since he was twenty-two. The stress, Wayne said. Now, his dark hair is peppered with wild, wiry grays that never want to mind.
"What do you want? Me to knot you?" Eddie asks sarcastically.
Steve looks up at him with those big eyes.
Well, shit.
"Steve."
"I mean, ideally, yes. But no means no," Steve repeats back to him. "You've already gone above and beyond. And I'm so grateful. Being friends with you feels like I have an alpha in my corner, without all the stress of finding a mate."
Eddie pulls his hair out of his bun, re-doing it, just for something to do with his hands. He'd do it. Fuck. Of course he'd do it for Steve. He's just scared to death it's gonna ruin the one friendship he has these days. Sure, he has friends. In theory. Out in the world, living their lives. But actively here? Every day? It's just Steve.
And he likes that it's Steve.
"I'm always in your corner," Eddie says.
"I know," Steve answers, with a smile. "Please pick one for me."
Eddie picks up the book, and scans the scents. There's one entry under asphalt.
Eddie flips to that page and hands it over. Steve scratches the sticker, and gets a whiff. It's fine.
"Okay," Steve says. "Number 52 it is."
Eddie sits outside the back side of the garage, smoking a cigarette. He can see Steve's house from here. Mr. Asphalt showed up five minutes ago.
Worry churns in Eddie's gut. He hopes this works out for Steve. That it's a good experience, and that it helps him.
Eddie's stubbing out his cigarette when he hears Steve's screen door snap closed.
Mr. Asphalt is walking back across the lawn, and pulling away. That was fast. Too fast.
Steve comes down the steps as soon as he's gone, and Eddie slinks back into the shop, so he won't be caught spying.
When Steve appears in the open overhead door, Eddie plasters on a fake smile, "Well?"
Steve shakes his head, and Eddie feels relief, and then feels guilty about that.
"No?" Eddie asks.
"No," Steve confirms.
"We'll find a different one," Eddie suggests.
Steve shakes his head, "No. I'll be okay. I'm not doing that again."
And there's no way Eddie can make him.
Steve picks up a socket wrench, and flips it in his hand. Over and over. A nervous habit. He'll fiddle with anything, Eddie's found.
"I'll do it," slips out, Eddie's mouth betraying him.
Steve stills. Staring him down.
"If you want me to. I'd do it. For you."
"I want you to," Steve says quietly.
Eddie nods.
However, Eddie cannot in good conscience go through with this without coming totally clean with all his darkest secrets. All those binder alphas have been thoroughly background checked. Eddie hasn't.
He wouldn't pass one, if he was.
"I'm an ex-con," Eddie blurts out. "I did two years in my early twenties. I'm not dangerous."
Steve just nods along, non-plussed. Eddie doesn't get him. He really doesn't.
"Okay," Steve says.
"Okay?" Eddie questions.
"I know you're not dangerous, Eddie. I do know you. We've spent months getting to know each other. Anything that happened in the past doesn't change how I feel about the version of you I've gotten to know. And, for the record, I've never felt safer with anyone else in my entire life."
Eddie swallows.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Steve asks. "You don't have to."
And, yeah, Eddie does.
"I'm my father's son," Eddie says, "even if I swore I'd never be. I was so cocky about it. That I'd never wind up in prison like him. And yet," Eddie says, looking down. "I had an omega that I really loved, and we wanted to get mated. At least I thought so. My omega's ex-boyfriend had an issue with that. He made sure I got pinched for dealing. A set-up. I sold weed to an undercover cop. They said it was within 500 feet of a public park. I couldn't even see it around the corner. I fucked up."
"I'm sorry," Steve says, stepping closer, fingers brushing against Eddie's tattooed neck. Eddie had done everything he could to keep people away from him after he got out, and yet. Here's Steve.
"I fucked up. I've never forgiven myself for becoming just like my old man instead of like Wayne. I've tried hard to fix that since I got paroled. I'm done. Free and clear, now. Have been for a long time. But it was rough. I couldn't get a job. But I had to have a job for my parole to not get revoked. So, Wayne quit his union job. Cashed out his retirement, and bought this garage."
Eddie gets choked up just thinking about it, let alone talking about it.
Steve is looking in his eyes, right up close. It's kind of intense. Still, Eddie needs to continue.
"We made it work. And those four years were hard," Eddie says with a sigh, "I think the two in prison were easier. You can't convince yourself you're free on the inside. Outside, though? It was just an illusion. I was searched all the time. They wanted to find something. Anything. To send me back. He still had connections, and a vendetta against me. All for falling in love with someone who was never really mine in the first place."
Steve presses his nose into Eddie's neck, and Eddie's hand finds Steve's back, clutching.
"You don't realize how much freedom you have until you're subjected to warrantless searches all the goddamn time for years, at all hours of the day and night."
Steve rumbles against Eddie's chest, throwing off a calming scent that Eddie soaks up, greedily.
"After four years of going from home to the garage and back again, and that's basically it, it was a habit. And I never changed it."
"Understandable," Steve says, cheek brushing Eddie's neck.
"I just wanted to be left alone," Eddie admits.
"And then here I came to bother you," Steve says, fingers grazing the other side of Eddie's neck.
"And then here you came to show me that letting people in isn't so bad," Eddie corrects.
"Mmm," Steve hums against Eddie's neck, sending vibrations through his body, straight to his dick.
"So, if none of that scares you—"
"—it doesn't," Steve interrupts, and his scent says that's true. One of them is distressed right now, and it's not Steve. "Take me home."
"But you're not…" Eddie starts, but he is. He always is. There's constant heat around the edges of Steve's scent, and Eddie shouldn't at all be surprised by that by now.
Eddie takes Steve's hand in his own, and doesn't let go, even as he has to lock up the shop one-handed.
They're doing this.
Steve's body is unreal. Eddie's never seen an omega like him before. Solid, hairy. Honestly more hairy than Eddie's ever dreamed of being. He's an omega, but still extremely masculine in a way that Eddie is definitely digging. Thick thighs that have wrapped themselves around Eddie's hips. Squeezing.
Splayed against the bedding, Steve looks more at peace than Eddie's ever seen him. Eddie runs his hands over Steve's warm, too warm, chest.
"You sure you still want this?" Eddie asks, sweating dripping down his brow. He's showing restraint. "With me?"
He's nervous.
It's not that he's never done this, it's just been a while, and Steve's never. There's pressure to perform, to get it right.
Pressure to hope that this will actually help Steve, and not just be a bad idea that they dove headfirst into together too fast.
Steve nods, breathing ragged, throwing off so much horny scent that Eddie's drunk on it. On him.
Eddie's let someone in again, and he's terrified. They haven't discussed this enough. Eddie knows that. He's doing it anyway, and if he gets burned again, well, fuck.
"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, nudging the head of his cock against Steve's opening. Easily sliding into Steve. He's so slick, so open and ready, that Eddie groans at the sensation. Steve clutches at him, bearing down, as he makes a noise that should make Eddie come immediately. Somehow, he doesn't. That's a minor miracle. But he knows it's not gonna take long. Age, be damned.
Eddie tries to rein himself in as he's thrusting deeper, once, twice, but doesn't take much longer before he's feeling his knot start to catch. He'd be more embarrassed if it didn't feel so good.
Steve keens, squirming, lifting his ass off the bed.
"Sorry, this is so fast," Eddie apologizes, and Steve makes a dismissive noise. "Not a great first experience, I know. Last chance to back out."
"God, no. Fuck. Just do it," Steve whines, and fuck. Eddie's gonna.
Eddie's knot pops past Steve's rim one more time, and that's it. Locked into place, Eddie comes harder than he can ever remember coming in his whole fucking life. Steve's leaning forward, arms wound around Eddie's neck, pulling him close, as Steve mouths at Eddie's neck. Smelling. Tasting.
Blunt teeth grazing Eddie's mating gland.
They are playing with fire here, but maybe they always have been, Eddie realizes.
Eddie comes again, body spasming as Steve clenches around him, pulsing. Steve's so tight. Eddie's instincts are to bite him, to claim him, to keep him forever. He won't, but he's not gonna make it out of this without some additional damage.
Just what he needs. More of that.
Steve's fever breaks, and he's soaked. Trembling, and Eddie pulls him close. He's cooler than he's ever felt any time Eddie's ever touched him. Maybe he has always been running a low-grade fever. Fuck, that'd be awful.
"That's it, sweat it out," Eddie whispers, brushing his lips against Steve's forehead.
The next round is more comfortable, and Eddie tries to shove back the feeling that they are having actual sex here. This time isn't as urgent, it's just learning to move with each other. And they move together damn good.
Steve's no shrinking violet. Not that Eddie really thought he was, but he's an active participant, as into this as Eddie is, and that just fuels the fire burning inside Eddie.
Round three is filthy, Steve running his mouth about getting bred. It should terrify Eddie. It doesn't. It won't happen, they've likely missed their window for that happening on its own by years, even without all the issues Steve's reproductive system clearly has.
Eddie's okay with that. He's never felt the urge to have pups of his own. He's always been far too scared he'd repeat the cycle again.
Steve whines loudly as Eddie eats him out. Steve riding his face, Eddie with two fingers buried in Steve's cunt. The amount of slick might drown him, but at least he'd die happy. Steve's clutching at the headboard, grinding down, and when he comes, the extra slick he releases coats Eddie's face.
Steve pulls up and Eddie licks his lips, still holding onto Steve's thighs.
He's never had sex like this. Not even close. How the fuck was Steve not locked down by someone in the past twenty years? It's absurd. Any alpha worth a damn should trip over their own knot just for the chance to worship Steve.
Steve crawls off, and flops next to Eddie, and Eddie reaches down and takes his hand into his own.
Steve's heat has broken. Honest to god, broken. For the first time since Eddie's known him. Eddie feels relief for him as they rock together one more time. Because they want to. He smells different, and Eddie almost feels like he's meeting Steve for the very first time.
Eddie's knot catches, and they're tied together once more.
Steve turns his head, nudging his neck towards Eddie's mouth. Eddie runs his tongue over the swollen gland, and Steve sighs. His scent is still heavy, but much less horny.
It smells a lot like pack.
Like love.
As if Eddie's found a home again.
Eddie moves to suck on the swollen bulge, and it bursts in his mouth. Eddie freezes. He wasn't anywhere close to biting him.
"I'm sorry," Steve says, fingers pressing into Eddie's back, like he's scared Eddie's about to bolt. How? They're tied together. And what the fuck is he sorry about? This is on Eddie. Maybe he was being too rough. Too careless.
Eddie needs to spit or swallow, and he can't exactly ask Steve which he prefers. He pulls back and meets Steve's eyes. Trying to find out what he should do, what Steve wants him to do. If he spits it out, if he doesn't follow up on the broken gland with a bite, it will likely eventually heal.
They do get broken sometimes. Accidents happen, sexual or otherwise.
Or, he can swallow, bite him, and complete the bond.
"I want you," Steve admits, like it costs him a lot, eyes big and damp, "but I know you said you don't want a mate. No means no. Spit it out."
Eddie growls, a low rumble in his chest. All Eddie wants is Steve. He's just fucking terrified of that. But now he's far more terrified of not having him.
Steve's eyes fall soft and hooded. He touches Eddie's cheek. "Okay. I hear you, honey. Alpha. Yes. Swallow."
That's all Eddie needs. He swallows, then tilts Steve's neck and bites him. For real, and with purpose. Steve keens, clamping down on Eddie's knot, making Eddie come again.
Eddie runs his hand over Steve's hair, over his face, thumb brushing his damp cheek. Eddie presses his own cheek to Steve's, sure his own is wet, too.
Then, Eddie pulls back, tilting his head to the side. Offering. It's not needed for the bond to take. Most alphas don't want marked up like that. Eddie's not most alphas, and thinks it can only make their bond stronger if Steve wants to bite him back.
Steve sinking his teeth into Eddie's neck sends a flood of relief through Eddie's system. A release of tension he didn't even know he was holding, has maybe always been holding.
He comes again. Into his omega. Into his mate.
Steve is his, for real. Forever. And he is Steve's.
Eddie never thought he'd be anybody's anything.
"That's it, sweetheart," Eddie says, throat working hard around the words, still feeling Steve's teeth clamped down, "Make me yours."
Steve growls.
Unconventional, most definitely. Eddie smiles.
Steve is latched on pretty good, and Eddie refuses to rush him.
They've got all the time in the world now.
One Year Later
Eddie changes the rim on a car that drove a little too far on a flat tire. The whole place stinks of burnt rubber.
Until it doesn't. He smells Steve before he sees him.
"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie calls out, and Steve walks his way. Leaning down to kiss him.
Steve moves around the shop with confidence now. Waiting on customers of all kinds, taking on a huge share of the business end of the garage. Wayne was relieved. One, that Steve was real, and good, and not just more trouble knocking at Eddie's door demanding to be let in.
But also for the help. He needed it. The bookkeeping is not Eddie's thing, but Steve's good at it. He's already collected on some overdue accounts, just using his blunt directness. Eddie's impressed.
Steve Harrington takes no shit. Not from Eddie, and not from the customers. Not now that his heats have leveled out to a very normal amount for an omega his age.
And Eddie knows without a doubt that while they were both scared to jump into this thing, because the baggage they've both carried around for decades is heavy and cumbersome, that they made the right decision. Together.
Eddie has a mate.
He has Steve.
And he loves Steve, just how he is. There's no box Eddie would ever want to shove him into. This is the omega he wants. Loves. The one that's perfectly Steve, just as he is.
Eddie's happy. It's weird, still foreign and novel. That he's allowed himself to be happy with Steve, guilt-free. The past, the past. The future, wide open.
As Uncle Wayne would say, good things come to those who wait.
You said something in “Smith” which I hope I grasped, and there was a feeling almost of recognition. An odd feeling of grief overcame me when I read it. I cannot explain my feelings any clearer. It was like hearing a piece of music from way back, except that it was nearer poetry by Graves’ definition. Thank you very much for writing it.
Terry Pratchett, in a letter to J. R. R. Tolkien, 22 November 1967
Thank you very much for your letter. The first one that I have received with regard to Smith of Wootton Major. You evidently feel about the story very much as I do myself. I can hardly say more.
J. R. R. Tolkien, in reply to Pratchett’s letter, 24 November 1967
And he did in fact say on at least one occasion that it was this that pushed him to always engage with his own fans in the same kind and conscientious manner.
TUMBLR ADS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO AUTO-PLAY AUDIO! THAT IS A BUG AND YOU SHOULD REPORT IT!
"This ad is auto-playing audio" is literally on the drop down menu for reporting an ad. Tumblr isn't trying to implement this! Don't protest this "new policy", cause it's not one.
They are not supposed to automatically redirect you without you clicking them, they are not supposed to cause a pop-up, they are not supposed to freeze your screen.
This is all bugs or malicious advertising which is also against tumblers ad policy. You should report all ads which do this.
Let’s get rid of those horrible monopoly ads, together.
So, even I default to “Oh, Steve as Michael and Eddie as David” for a The Lost Boys AU, but just noodling on it for even a minute points me directly to Eddie as Michael and Steve as Star. Steve knows more than Eddie, Eddie has actual daddy issues in canon, and Billy is pretty clearly David.
Anyway, the first single from the OBCR is out now and it is the song I have most wanted to get my grubby little hands in since seeing it: https://youtu.be/skAnIb56CwA
so what if one time while Dustin was staying back a bit late at hellfire to help clean up because his momma raised him right, he's about to leave when Eddie stops him,
"Hey, idiot don't forget your dice." and he tosses the pouch at Dustin, who barely catches it because he's an unathletic loser. He scoffs and smiles anyway, "Thanks dad."
Before Eddie can process that, Dustin walks out, completely oblivious to the fact that he'd even said the D-word. Eddie stands there for way longer than he should, circling through pride, affection, and offense because he is NOT old enough to be a father!
A few weeks go by, Eddie pretty much forgets about it and chooses not to bring it up, because despite what everyone thinks, he isn't the biggest douchebag in the word. (He still is one of course but not the biggest!) Eddie forgets about it until another hellfire session is over, but Dustin took a little too long, and Steve Harrington comes marching into the school.
"Dude, I told you to be quick today! I promised Max and Lucas I'd take them to the movies!" The perfectly styled brunette started to scold, Eddie found himself a little hot under the collar as he glanced between Dustin and his much taller, much more attractive friend.
Dustin rolled his eyes, "Okay, okay, jesus, you're such a nag, mom." He added the "mom" mockingly, Harrington didn't even bristle. "I'm flattered to be compared to your mother, now move your ass." He demanded, dragging Dustin away by his bag.
Eddie was once again, stuck standing there for a little longer than he should've, before his feet were suddenly moving and he burst into the parking lot and luckily, somehow, Harrington and Dustin weren't in their cars yet.
"Henderson called me dad once!" He shouted over at them, a little out of breath. "If you're his mother I think I owe you a date! Or at least child support!" He called, giving Harrington a sharp grin even though a part of him was horrified at his own actions.
Dustin looked ten times more horrified than Eddie felt, but Steve just turned, glanced Eddie over, and paused. "That can be arranged." He smirked a little before getting in his car, Dustin followed, and even over the engine starting Eddie could hear the kid screeching about dignity or something.
They drove away but Eddie's heart was pounding louder than them turning out of the parking lot.
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