mj

𓇼 23 | bi | she/her 𓇼 ⟢ multi-stan acc ⟣ 🪼

[steddie-steddie]

⋆˚࿔ Hi! I’m mj 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝜗𝜚 she/her, 22, I'm bisexual and bigender! 𝜗𝜚

⋆.˚ I brainrot anything im hyper fixated on at the moment, this is a nsfw acc, mostly! ⋆.˚ I do write threads/fics but i am horrible at updating so, sorry in advance!

✴︎ Interests..

꩜ KPOP WISE ⤳ STRAY KIDS, BOYNEXTDOOR, ENHYPEN, BTS, ATEEZ

꩜ shows ⤳ JJK, Steddie (Stranger Things)

ᯓ★read more ↯

ᯓmaster list↯

꩜ To Be So Lonely ⤳ pt 1

ᯓ socials↯

✴︎ My..

꩜ Twitter : steddie_steddie

꩜ Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steddie_steddie

꩜ Carrd : https://steddie-steddie.carrd.co

[jakely]

beomgyu - forty one winks

[heejamas]

i wanna marry her

[estrellami-1]

Okay so who’s gonna write the fic where the bat bites slowly change Steve and Eddie?

It starts with clinginess. Eddie’s possessive of his things, always has been, especially his Sweetheart, his Precious, his guitar. But he gets possessive about smaller things—his dice, his rings, his vest, sure, that all makes sense; but t-shirts? Which he has plenty of? That doesn’t make much sense.

Steve’s always been more chill, but he’s been more possessive lately; curling an arm over Robin’s shoulders, not letting her go until she practically rips him off of herself.

When they’re together, though? It just feels natural to sit together, to be curled up so tight they can hardly tell which limb is whose.

It all comes to a head the day Dustin grabs at Steve’s arm, when he’s tangled with Eddie…

…and Eddie hisses at him.

[anniebass]

saturday afternoon

[anniebass]

golden girls reruns

[anniebass]

heatwave

mimir

[solarmorrigan]

Wait hold on I'm having a thought

We have rock star Eddie whose dreams take off and who starts going on tour, and we have Steve who misses him while he's away and would love to tag along, except -

He'd grown up watching his father go on business trips (and "business trips") and watching his mother eventually start traveling with him because she didn't trust him

He'd watched his father start to resent his mother and call her overbearing and jealous and controlling, and he doesn't want the same thing to happen between him and Eddie. He doesn't want Eddie to think that he doesn't trust him, or to seem like he's hovering and trying to keep Eddie on some kind of short leash

It takes time for him to realize that Eddie wants him to take an interest in that part of his life. He wants Steve along on his tours, if Steve wants to come, because he loves him and he misses him while he's away, too

It takes time for him to realize that his parents' model of marriage doesn't have to be his own, and with every song Eddie dedicates to "someone special in the audience," with every party he keeps glued to Steve's side through, with every secret smile he aims backstage during a performance, Steve's worries that Eddie is only humoring him (or, worse, harboring some secret resentment) melt away

He isn't a weight around Eddie's neck and he isn't merely tolerated - he's welcomed, and wanted, and loved

[eddywoww]

I’m so into embarrassing sexual situations and adding omegaverse on top of that drives me wild

So like. Tattoo artist Eddie. Alpha with his entire body covered. Kind of scary looking tbh. He isn’t tho, he’s just a really sweet guy with grey at his temples. Shaved sides, a few piercings.

And then Steve. Little preppy Omega coming in because his friends keep betting he won’t get a tattoo. He’s too scared to get one. And Steve isn’t like that. He isn’t scared of anything. He’s braver than all of them combined, actually. He’s a trophy winning gymnast, on his college debate team, knows at least two languages and is working on a third. He’s not just a prep, he’s kind of a nerd. A rich one who vacations in foreign countries every summer but still.

He can do it. He even lets Tommy choose, since Steve lost the bet and it’s only fair.

It’s actually so stupid.

Tommy tells him he has to get cherries tattooed on him. Steve knows why. It’s not even remotely funny, it’s incredibly immature. So what if he’s a virgin? It’s really no one’s business expect his own. And his future mate. Because he’s saving himself.

And then he gets into Eddie’s studio and like- okay, Steve has always had a type. Older men, men who wore suits, men who worked with his father. Unattainable, already mated. Steve sort of assumes this guy is mated too. He looks like it, has a bite that’s weirdly faded on his neck.

But Steve can’t smell an Omega on him. Or a Beta or an Alpha. No one.

So sue him if he gets a little flirty. It fuels his self esteem, knowing they can look but he won’t let them touch.

Only Eddie touches him a lot. He kind of has to, it’s his job.

“Here you go, honey,” He says, his fangs peeking out as he gets the little area ready for Steve. His knees feel weak already and he’s like, pretty sure this is going to be a terrible experience for him. Why did the tattoo artist have to be hot? And so nice and attentive and so covered in tattoos? With long lashes and big eyes and a soft smile. “Where do you want it?”

Everywhere. Anywhere. Please.

“My hip? Is that okay?”

Steve feels silly asking but Eddie only smiled at him, so much nicer than Steve expected. He’s got a barbell through his eyebrow and a ring in his nose. Several piercing in his ears too. Steve wants to lick him.

“Let’s put it a little to the side,” Eddie decides, already ready with the stencil. “Just so it’s not directly on bone. It’ll hurt less if it’s somewhere softer.”

Because Steve is soft with Omega hips and Eddie pinches one for emphasis and fuck- yeah, okay, this is bad. This is actually so bad. Because he’s going to get turned on and then he’s going to get-

All it takes is the needle. The fucking black gloves snapping over those strong hands and the needle pressing into soft skin. Steve is wet in seconds. Embarrassingly so.

He wants to kind of roll over and die.

Eddie hushes his noises, his little chirps of distress.

“Hey, it’s alright. Happens all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Eddie chuckles, only focused on the tattoo. “Some people like the needle.”

It wasn’t just the needle. It definitely wasn’t.

Steve was shaking from holding himself back, from flinging himself onto Eddie. He was so composed, it took Steve forever to notice the flaring nostrils and the bitten lips.

Steve let’s a moan slip and Eddie snaps.

“If you let me finish this and get you cleaned up,” He says with gravel in his voice. “I’ll close up shop, lay you out and eat you til you scream. But if you keep wiggling I’m gonna fuck this up. Stay still.”

It’s unethical. It’s definitely illegal. Probably unsanitary.

Steve gets his cherry tattoo and his cherry popped, all in one day.

[lexirosewrites]

saw on twitter that there's a 9 MONTH long cruise happening (actual insane behaviour) but after that my first thought was "crazy set up for a lexi fic where Steve and Eddie hook up that first night and finish the cruise with a baby"

Steve is a little rich kid that gets sent away on the cruise by his parents to essentially get rid of him for 9 months and maybe Eddie works on the ship and Steve's parents go to pick Steve up after 9 months (one of their assistants reminded them to go) only for Steve to be like 'yeah I'm leaving with Eddie and our baby, oh Eddie? yeah that's my alpha now and oh the baby? yeah they're mine too, crazy cruise, huh?'

just giggling to myself over cruise shenanigans and felt like you might have a laugh too so I thought I'd share

I do not have the proper time and energy to devote to this fantastic prompt right now, but it’s going on the list because I know it would make a great story!

Just imagining Steve and Eddie hooking up on like night one because why not blow off some steam with a hot stranger? It’s not like there are any consequences— oh wait.

And then they avoid each other for weeks until Steve realizes what happened and has to tell Eddie before he starts to show.

Which makes them end up trying to work things out and ultimately falling in love and mating on a cruise ship of all places!

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (steddie fic)

saw this post and was inspired to write something angsty <3

The first thing Eddie is aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the dull, aching pain throbbing through pretty much his entire body. The second thing he’s aware of is that someone is holding his hand. 

“Eddie?” The hand in his tightens its grip as Eddie begins to stir; the voice it presumably belongs to sounds immeasurably relieved, yet only vaguely familiar. 

Eddie groans. His eyelids flutter, blinking awake, and he groggily rolls his head to the side to get a look at whoever had spoken. 

The voice sighs again, “Oh thank god-” 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s eyes fly open wide now as they land on the mystery man sitting beside him on the edge of the bed - a man he most definitely is not close enough with to be holding his hand, and a bed that is most definitely not his own. He snatches his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? Where am I?”

“Ed-” Another man’s voice, this one just as relieved and infinitely more familiar. It fills Eddie with relief too as he looks to his other side to find his uncle Wayne rising from a nearby chair to come up next to him. 

“Wayne, what-?” His surroundings are becoming more clear. “What happened? Why am I in a hospital? And why the fuck is King Steve at my bedside?” Eddie tries to sit up only to gasp and wince in pain as the dull ache in his sides sharpens to near agony at the movement. 

“Take it easy, son.” Wayne’s hand lands on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the pillows. “You were hurt real bad.” 

“Yeah, I got that,” Eddie grumbles out. He sucks in a deep, intentional breath and exhales slowly, the pain beginning to dull again now that he’s settled. His questions are still largely unanswered, though. Blank mind reaching desperately for any logical piece to this bizarre puzzle, he turns an accusing glare to Harrington. “Did you land me in here? Is that why you’re here, some sort of weird guilt thing?” 

Harrington’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. “What? No, I-” he falters, takes a shaky breath and swallows painfully like he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t remember?” 

“I don’t remember what? Will someone just tell me what happened?” Eddie’s confusion is rising more and more into agitation with every second he remains without an explanation. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harrington asks quietly.

“I was driving home from school, just found out I wasn’t gonna graduate again.” Eddie frowns as he thinks back, still trying to put pieces together. “Did I crash my car? Is that it? I was emotional and not paying attention and got into an accident?” 

Yet again, he receives no answers. 

“Eddie, what month is it?” Wayne asks instead, his tone dangerously measured and serious. “What year?” 

“May…” Eddie says warily, “1985.”

His words hold a weight he doesn’t understand, landing heavy on the others in the room and thickening the air. It sends a chill of dread down his spine, the way his answer etches concern deep into the lines of Wayne’s face, the way Steve Harrington seems to take it like a blow to the chest. 

Harrington exhales sharply as if he’s been punched, standing abruptly and taking a few stumbling steps back. Wayne says, “It’s April of ‘86, Ed.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “No. No, it can’t be.” 

“I’m gonna go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington mumbles, his voice strained and his eyes glassy with barely held-back tears. 

“I’ll go,” Wayne offers, pushing himself away from Eddie’s bed. He gives Harrington a meaningful look, though what that meaning is, Eddie can’t decipher. 

Harrington turns his devastated gaze to the older man. “But, Wayne, he doesn’t-” 

“I know, kid.” Wayne gives a sad smile and places a sympathetic hand on Harrington’s shoulder as he passes by. “Just talk to him.” 

Eddie is thrown off by this familiarity between them. Since when were those two close? He feels like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe where everything is just ever so slightly wrong. It leaves an itch beneath his skin, uncomfortable and out of place, like he no longer quite fits in his own body, in his own life. He’s lost 11 months, apparently, and this world is no longer his; he doesn’t know where he fits into it anymore. 

Wayne leaves the room, and Eddie wants to protest: Don’t leave me here with this guy I don’t know in this time I don’t know, please, you’re the only thing that feels safe and familiar! Anxiety is crawling through him like a thousand tiny bugs in his veins. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run. Anything to shake this feeling loose. But he’s confined to this bed, trapped both by his pain and by all these machines he’s hooked up to, and he sure as shit isn’t going to have a breakdown in front of Steve goddamn Harrington. 

Instead, Eddie resigns himself to this situation and casts a sideways glance at Harrington who very much looks like he’s also trying not to have a breakdown. “I’m freaking out, man,” Eddie says finally, hating how shaky and pathetic his voice sounds. “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on…” 

Harrington worries his lip between his teeth as he hesitates. “It’s a lot to explain.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I’m missing nearly an entire year, of course it’s a lot to fill in. Unless I’ve been here this whole time?” 

“No.” Harrington shakes his head. “No, you’ve only been here about a week. I- I don’t know why you’re missing so much time, the whole Vecna thing only started like a week before that-” 

“Vecna?” Eddie interrupts to question. “What does any of this have to do with the D&D campaign I was planning? And, also, how the fuck do you know about that?” 

Harrington closes his eyes for a second and takes a breath, like having this conversation is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. “I’m not talking about D&D, Ed. Vecna was a real-life monster from a real-life alternate dimension we called the Upside-Down. The kids only called him Vecna because we didn’t know who he was at the time and he, like, cursed people before he killed them, but he was actually Henry Creel, which is a whole other fucked up story.”

“Okay…” Eddie doesn’t know who ‘the kids’ are and he’s skeptical of the way Harrington talks so factually about monsters and dimensions and curses existing in the real world, but he does remember his uncle telling him stories about the demonic tragedy of the Creel family, which is the only thing that makes any of this even halfway believable. It still doesn’t explain how Eddie wound up in the hospital with his entire body feeling like it’d been run through a blender, though, or why the former king of Hawkin’s High was hovering over his sickbed. He gestures for Harrington to continue. 

“I never wanted you to get involved in all this Upside-Down shit,” Harrington’s voice breaks. He steps closer to Eddie’s bed again, and he looks so so sad as he stares down at him that it makes Eddie’s own heart ache, just a little bit. Harrington’s hand twitches at his side as if he means to reach out for Eddie but then thinks better of it, running the hand through his hair instead as he continues, “I tried to keep you from it for so long, I really did, but then Vecna killed Chrissy in your trailer and the whole town blamed you and you were just a part of things then, there was no getting around it. You helped us fight him - Vecna. You kept his army of bats off our ass while we weakened his body and El weakened his mind. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve defeated him and we certainly wouldn’t have all made it out alive.” Harrington’s gaze softens, as does his voice, his next words almost a whisper, “You were a hero, Eddie.” 

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Eddie says, like that’s the least plausible part of Harrington’s story. And, really, it is. He can wrap his mind around a lot of things: a murder in his trailer - sure, Forest Hills always was a shady place; the whole town accusing him of being a killer - yeah, of course, that tracks; even an evil wizard from another dimension with an army of bats - fine, okay, why the hell not. But Eddie Munson is no hero, and he’s definitely not any sort of fighter either.

“No, you never did think so, did you?” Harrington mutters with a sad sort of fondness and the barest trace of a wistful smile. “But it’s true. Dustin was in danger and you didn’t even think twice. You ran right into the fray without a second thought, sacrificed yourself so that the rest of us might survive. Those bats nearly killed you, b-” he breaks, choking on whatever word he was going to say. His eyes swim with yet more unshed tears. “I almost thought they had killed you, you know. I thought you were dead when I carried you out of the Upside-Down,” he admits shakily, choked up and barely managed, “and even when I brought you here and you were stable, I was still so scared you wouldn’t wake up…” 

Eddie doesn’t know how to react to any of that information or to such a display of emotion. His own hands twitch now with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he too denies that instinct. He tries for humor instead, something lighter, cracking a grin and teasing, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t know you cared.” 

Harrington makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Oh, Ed, you have no idea.” 

“We were friends then, weren’t we?” Eddie guesses now, carefully. It’s rapidly becoming the only possible explanation for the guy’s behavior around him. “Before all the Vecna stuff?”

“Yeah,” Harrington manages, forcing a small, sad smile as his eyes finally overflow and streak his cheeks with tears. “Yeah, we were good friends.” 

~

Wayne reenters the room then with a nurse in tow, and Steve quickly turns away and rubs his hands over his face. He needs to pull himself together; he can’t break down right now, not yet, not here. 

He listens, distantly, as the nurse asks Eddie a bunch of questions and then tells the rest of them that she needs to take him in for some tests to determine the cause and prognosis of Eddie’s amnesia. He watches, numbly, as she wheels Eddie’s entire bed out of the room. 

Steve can barely hear, barely see, his emotion clouding his eyes and roaring in his ears. He stares blankly through the open doorway and struggles to swallow down the ever-rising lump in his throat. 

Wayne’s voice rumbles from somewhere beside him, but he can’t quite make out the words. “What?” 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Wayne says, the sound reaching Steve’s ears a little clearer now. “I asked if you were alright.” 

Steve shakes his head. His voice comes out coarse and raw, “‘Course I’m not alright.” 

“Right, ‘course you’re not,” Wayne echoes. He follows Steve’s mournful gaze to the door Eddie had disappeared through. “What did you tell him?” 

“Told him he was a hero,” Steve croaks, “...and that we were good friends.”

“Ah…” Steve’s vision is so blurred behind a thick layer of tears he can’t see the sympathetic frown on the old man’s face, but he knows it’s there. “At least he’s alive, kid,” Wayne tries to be comforting. “You can always start over.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t- I don’t want to start over, I just want-” Steve chokes back a sob. He just wants Eddie.

It’s a horrible thought, but Steve almost thinks that this just might be worse than if Eddie really had died… Because how is Steve supposed to handle the fact that his boyfriend of 9 months no longer knows him? How is he supposed to cope now that the love of his life looks right at him and no longer sees him?

He closes his eyes, presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling an even shakier sigh. Steve whispers, “It feels like I’m losing him all over again.” 

(part two coming eventually, maybe)

[ghosttotheparty]

part one also on ao3

Steve’s breaths land on Eddie’s chest as he sleeps.

Slow, and soft, and quiet, and Eddie relishes it. The feeling of his breath, the warmth of his face pressing to Eddie’s skin, and the weight of his hand that’s curled into a loose fist. He feels so small on top of Eddie, though his limbs are long, though he’s larger than life itself. He feels like… a boy.

He’s just a boy.

Eddie blinks his eyes open in the morning light, squinting the way he does every morning as the sun rises. It drives him a little crazy, never being able to sleep in, but it’s nice to be awake when Wayne comes home. To get his forehead kiss and fond, “Mornin’.”

Eddie shifts down a little, carefully moving Steve to look at him, and Steve nuzzles his face into the pillow, sighing in his sleep. His fingers open, spreading and then curling like he’s trying to grab at Eddie’s shirt, but his fingers just dig into his skin a little bit. Eddie smiles, reaching to take his hand carefully, and when Steve’s fingers curl around his, Eddie lifts it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles.

He gazes at him. In the morning light, his hair looks like it’s glowing, like threads of spun gold, like he’s some fairy tale character. His expression is light, and Eddie realizes that his resting face is almost smiling. His eyelashes fan under his eyes, and his cheeks are pink, and Eddie’s dark sweatshirt makes his skin looks even more golden. Eddie gazes some more.

He never thought he’d be here. Lying in bed on a Saturday morning with Steve Harrington across from him, sleeping, holding his hand like a child. Steve breathes. A bird chirps outside.

Something shifts in Eddie’s chest. It falls into place.

Steve wakes up slowly. Eddie thinks he wants to see him wake up every single morning. He inhales deeply, his fingers tightening on Eddie’s hand for a moment as he sighs, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he blinks them open. His gaze finds their hands first, and he blinks again, his finger shifting in Eddie’s, and then he looks up.

He half-smiles, and his voice is rough when he speaks.

“You’re watching me sleep?”

Eddie smiles, releasing his hand and reaching out to touch him as Steve settles his hand on Eddie’s arm that’s bent under his head. His fingers push his hair aside and press into Eddie’s bicep as Eddie caresses the side of his face.

“Sleeping beauty.”

Steve’s smile widens, and he closes his eyes again. Eddie brushes his hair back, and he moves forward to kiss his forehead before he gets up.

Wayne comes home as they’re sitting at the table, sipping coffee from mugs that were taken down from around the living room. Steve’s is blue.

“Mornin’.”

He stops as the door closes behind him, eyes finding Steve sitting there, his feet on the chair, one of his knees drawn up to his chest. Steve freezes, looking up at him, and Eddie leans back in his seat, smiling as Steve’s cheeks flush pink in embarrassment, like he thinks Wayne can just tell.

“...Who are you?” Wayne asks as he toes off his work boots, eyeing Steve.

“I’m, uhm, Steve Harrington. Sir.”

Eddie grins into his mug, watching Steve set his down awkwardly like he doesn’t know if Wayne is going to want to shake his hand or something. Wayne looks at him.

“Harrington,” he says.

Steve blinks, nodding after a moment, and Eddie remembers suddenly that Wayne’s been in this town his whole life. He knows the Harringtons. Everyone knows the Harringtons.

“And you’re here with Eddie?” Wayne says, looking down at Eddie, who meets his eyes and raises his eyebrows, tilting his head.

“Yes, sir?” Steve says hesitantly.

“You don’t know?”

“I— Yes, I’m with him.”

Steve’s face is red, and he glances at Eddie nervously.

“You’re hanging out with Eddie?” Wayne says, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“…Yes.”

“Even though he’s weird?”

Eddie lets out an offended squawk, and Steve half-smiles.

“I like him,” he says, his voice softer.

“Why?”

Steve giggles, looking at Eddue. His cheeks are pink.

“Be nice, Wayne,” Eddie says, mumbling into his mug as he takes another sip.

“I am,” Wayne says defensively. “I sure hope you’re nothing like your daddy, boy,” he says to Steve, and Eddie clicks his tongue, swinging his arm around to hit his leg.

“Respectfully, sir, I’d rather kill myself than be anything like him.”

Wayne barks out a laugh, and Eddie chokes on his coffee, leaning forward to wipe his face. Steve looks at him with wide eyes, murmuring an apology, smiling.

“Alright then,” Wayne says, and Eddie can hear the smile in his voice. “I’m gonna take a shower and head to bed,” he says, ruffling Eddie’s hair and leaning down to smack a kiss to his temple. He pauses on his way down the hall.

“Steve?”

“Uh, yes?” Steve stutters, leaning to see him around Eddie, who turns to look at Wayne with a raised eyebrow.

“You need anything, you come on by, alright?”

Eddie looks back at Steve. Steve blinks, his expression softening, and he nods.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Wayne disappears down the hall, and Steve dissolves, slumping. He lowers his head to the table, pushing his mug away as he hits his head lightly on the table a few times. Eddie laughs, reaching out to pat his head.

“Leave me to die,” Steve grumbles into the table.

“You’re so dramatic,” Eddie says fondly, tugging his hair. Steve just groans. “…Stevie.”

“Mm.”

Eddie tugs again and leans over the table, tilting his head at him as Steve looks up at him, his eyes cutting up at him like a sad puppy. Eddie’s chest aches a little.

“I like you too,” he says softly, smiling when Steve’s cheeks flush pink.

“Really?” he asks, his voice small. Eddie tilts his head the other way.

“We had sex last night, Steve.”

Steve shushes him, and Eddie grins.

“And?” Steve says quietly, taking his mug again and twisting it around, fidgeting. “We’ve both had meaningless sex with people.”

Eddie pauses, looking at how Steve is looking down at his mug, legs crossed on his chair, the sleeves of Eddie’s sweatshirt almost covering his hands. And he reaches across the table, tracing Steve’s knuckles lightly, tentatively. Steve looks at him again with those eyes. Shy. Nervous.

“Last night wasn’t meaningless,” he says softly. “To me.”

Steve blinks at him, his cheeks flushing again. (Eddie loves how much he blushes.)

“Me too,” he says, and then he pauses, blinking again. “Me either? You know what I mean.”

Eddie giggles, and he leans across the table, tilting his chin up. Steve smiles, softening as he leans to meet him in a light kiss that tastes like coffee. (Steve takes his black, the menace.)

They stay in the living room. Watch a movie on the small television. Steve sits next to him on the sofa for a while before he relaxes when Eddie puts his arm around him, pulling him close, and he gradually melts against him until he’s finally laying next to him, his head in his lap. Eddie plays with his hair, forgetting about the movie as he gazes down at him. Steve holds his other hand, tangling their fingers and squeezing.

— — — — —

“Oh my god, no, he was so sweet about it.”

“But he rejected you, I can’t believe that.”

Eddie sighs heavily, dropping his head onto the textbook in front of him. It was quiet just a few moments ago, and his brain was finally getting used to it enough for him to read without getting distracted. But the girls’ voices carry over through the bookshelves, through the air, and he really doesn’t care about their drama right now.

“He was so nice, Marie, seriously. Told me I was pretty and all, but…”

“Why didn’t he wanna go out with you?” the other girl asks, aghast. “You’re a total catch.”

Eddie almost groans out loud.

“He just said he wasn’t interested,” she says lightly. “It’s not a big deal, he was nice about it.”

“Steve Harrington has never once rejected a girl,” Marie says, and that catches Eddie’s attention. He lifts his head. “I don’t get why he’s starting with you.”

Eddie blinks, tilting his head as he listens.

“Maybe he has a secret girlfriend,” the girl says, and Marie giggles. Eddie pulls the collar of his shirt up over his face, suppressing a smile.

The next time he sees Steve it’s in the hallway, and their eyes meet. And then Eddie is the one blushing, because Steve smiles at him. (That’s all it takes. A smile. Eddie is pathetic.)

Eddie tilts his head, gesturing down the hall, and Steve nods subtly. He’s standing with Tommy Hagan and some others, but as Eddie steps backward down the hall, he says something to them that Eddie can’t hear. And then he’s following Eddie down the hall, calling something to his friends, and Eddie is suppressing a smug smile, heading down toward the bathroom, praying it’s empty.

Steve is right behind him as he’s headed inside, and Eddie is grinning now. It is empty, and Steve’s hand presses against the top of his back, pushing him inside and toward the stall that’s the farthest back. Eddie goes easily, dropping his bag as he turns and lets Steve push him into the wall as the stall door swings shut behind them.

“Hi,” Eddie breathes, grinning and reaching up to touch his face as Steve kisses him hard.

“Hi,” Steve whispers back when they part with a gasp. He’s holding his neck and leaning against him to press him into the wall.

“Heard you rejected some girl,” Eddie says softly, his eyes trained on Steve’s lips, which curve into a smile.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Sound carries a lot in the library,” Eddie complains, tracing his jaw carefully. “‘Steve Harrington has never once rejected a girl,’” he murmurs, dragging his fingertip lightly across his jaw to touch his lips, pulling the bottom one down before he releases it, smiling as it pops back into place. Steve hums softly.

“Maybe I got my eye on someone right now,” he says softly, almost whispering, his eyes shining, half-shut as he looks at Eddie. His hands slide over Eddie’s waist

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“She pretty?” Eddie teases. Steve suppresses a smile, his tongue sliding across his lower lip.

“The prettiest,” he teases back.

Eddie scrunches his nose, tilting his head at him, and Steve kisses him. His hand presses into Eddie’s chest, pushing him into the wall, and Eddie tilts his head, wrapping his arms around his neck, letting his lips part as Steve slips his tongue across them.

He pushes his fingers into Steve’s hair, and he kind of wants to mess it up, to tangle it and make it stick up in ways Steve would never allow it to, and then he kind of wants to make Steve leave like this. To not let him fix it in the mirror. He kind of wants Steve to look like he’s been making out with someone. And he kind of wants people to talk. To ask Steve who the lucky girl is.

Eddie tightens his hand in Steve’s hair, pulling it at the roots, and Steve huffs, sliding a hand down to the small of his back and pulling him close. Eddie licks into his mouth, tugging his hair to make him tilt his head back, and Steve lets him, sighing softly.

They part when the door to the bathroom bursts open, and they freeze, holding each other tightly, staring at each other and holding their breaths as they listen to someone come in, muttering to himself.

Eddie’s chest aches. Because they have to hide. Because they both know it, they know it so well they aren’t even breathing. And Steve seems to think it at the same time. His eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s, and his hands run across the small of his back. Eddie slides his hands to hold his face tenderly, looking at him intently.

They both flinch when the boy rips some paper towels from the dispenser loudly, the sound echoing in the room. And then the door opens and shuts again.

They exhale, and before Eddie can say anything, Steve is leaning in and kissing him hard. Eddie closes his eyes, his fingers sliding behind his ears to hold his head. He lets out a soft groan.

They’re both breathing hard when they part, and their foreheads press. Steve reaches to touch Eddie’s face, holding it gently in his hands, and Eddie feels like he deserves it, this tenderness he’s only found on the palms of Steve Harrington’s hands.

They look at each other. Steve looks like he’s going to start crying. Eddie brushes his thumbs over his cheeks as he whispers to him.

“We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Steve blinks at him. His expression softens. And he kisses him again, slow and soft and gentle.

“I know,” he murmurs.

Eddie pulls him into a hug. He buries his face in his neck, sighing as Steve hugs him back, and he closes his eyes.

“I have basketball practice today,” Steve says, his voice muffled. “It ends at, uhm. Five.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly.

“…You wanna come over tonight?”

Eddie grins.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“I’ll make you dinner.”

Eddie’s smile widens.

“You don’t have to convince me,” he says. “I already said I’d go.”

“No, I wanna,” Steve says softly. “Wanna treat you good.”

Eddie groans into his neck, grumbling a weak, “Baby,” as he kisses him. Steve’s hand makes its way to Eddie’s head, cradling the back of it as he exhales.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, honey.”

“...Can you give me a hickey?”

Eddie pauses, nuzzling into Steve’s neck.

“Here?”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, pressing a slow kiss to his skin. Steve’s breath hitches, and he tilts his head farther to the side, humming affirmatively.

“Want people to wonder.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, and he whines softly in the back of his throat. He’s never made a noise like this before, and his face flushes with heat, but Steve just breathes a soft, “Please,” and Eddie is putty in his hands.

Eddie opens his mouth and presses another kiss to his neck, slowly, carefully, intentionally, and Steve exhales, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s hair and scratching at his scalp lightly. He hisses in pain when Eddie bites down hard, sucking his skin between his teeth and licking at it, but his hand holds Eddie in place, his other hand gripping his waist as he breathes hard.

“Yeah,” he chokes after a moment, his voice weak and thin. “Fuck, like that.”

Eddie grins, digging his teeth into Steve’s skin, sucking harder, and Steve whimpers, pulling Eddie’s hair. He releases the skin after a moment, kissing it softly and dragging his tongue over it to soothe it, and then he bites down again, his body flushing with heat when Steve lets out a weak, “Oh, shit,” and whimpers again. Eddie shushes him softly, slipping his fingertips under the hem of his shirt to touch his soft skin. Steve squeaks, and Eddie grins again, listening to Steve’s breathing as he kisses his neck again.

When he pulls away, Steve’s skin is reddening.

“How was that?” he asks like he doesn’t know.

“Eddie,” Steve whines.

Eddie shushes him again, grinning and kissing his lips softly.

“Was that good?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. His eyes are closed, his head fallen back. Eddie brushes their noses together, stroking his neck softly, and Steve reaches up after a moment, tilting his head and pressing his fingertips into the bruise. He lets out a strained breath, biting his lip.

Eddie kisses him again, smiling as Steve kisses him back desperately, his hand jumping to hold Eddie’s neck, and Eddie pushes him back against the other side of the stall. Steve hums softly, moving to wrap his arms around Eddie's neck, and Eddie slips his hands under Steve’s shirt.

Steve chokes, his arms tightening, his tongue sliding between Eddie’s lips. Eddie kisses him some more, listening to his soft, breathy hums, listening carefully in case the door opens again.

“Gotta go,” he says after a little while, between kisses. Steve whines. “Come on.”

“I don’t wanna stop,” Steve complains, his head falling back to the wall as Eddie leans to pepper his neck with kisses. Eddie hesitates before kissing the hickey, scraping with his teeth, and his chest aches as Steve lets out a pained whimper. His fingers tug at Eddie's hair again, but he holds him in place when Eddie tries to lift his head, and Eddie grins, licking the spot gently.

“Stevie,” he whispers.

“Mm.”

“Don’t pout,” Eddie giggles, nudging their noses together.

“‘M not pouting,” Steve says, pouting. He’s almost smiling, looking at Eddie like a puppy again, and Eddie wishes he could freeze time. He touches the hickey, pressing against it lightly, watching Steve’s eyes flutter shut, watching him furrow his brows and bite his lip.

“I’ll give you another one tonight,” he murmurs. “After dinner.”

Steve’s eyes open.

“Wherever you want,” Eddie asks, whispering. Steve’s eyebrows jump, and he smiles.

“Okay,” he breathes. Eddie kisses him.

“I’ll see you later.”

Another kiss.

“Okay.”

Kiss.

“Have fun at practice.”

Kiss. Steve is smiling now.

“You’re stalling,” he says between kisses.

“I know.”

He kisses him again, and Steve giggles, finally pushing his shoulders.

“Get outta here,” he says, holding Eddie away. Eddie bites his lip, taking a breath as he stoops to grab his bag, and he pauses before opening the stall door. He’s almost past the stalls before he groans, turning back around, and Steve is lingering in the stall door, smiling like he knew Eddie would do this: come back to kiss him desperately, holding his face and grinning. It’s fast, three kisses in quick succession before he finally tears himself away.

“See you later, sweet thing,” Eddie says, and Steve blushes before he waves half-heartedly. Eddie catches himself before he can say love you without thinking, and he blows him a kiss.

The sun is going down when Eddie shows up at his house, and Steve greets him by jumping him in the doorway. Eddie catches him in his arms, yelling in protest, and they fall to the floor, Eddie on top of Steve.

“Oh my god,” Eddie says loudly, grinning as Steve cackles, his arms around Eddie. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Steve says, looking up at Eddie and pushing his curls back, tucking them tenderly behind his ears. Steve’s hair is wet, and it smells like expensive products. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Eddie says softly, looking down at him. His eyes find the hickey on his neck, and it’s almost purple now, dark against Steve’s skin. Eddie exhales. “Oh, I fucked you up.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, grinning happily even though he’s on the floor.

“Did people talk?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And?”

“They’re very curious.”

Eddie beams, caressing his face. Steve turns his face into his hand, his eyes shining, and Eddie can’t help but lean down to kiss him softly.

“What’d they say?”

“‘Steve’s got a secret girlfriend,’” Steve says, imitating the others, a smile teasing his lips.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, I just pretended to not know what they’re talking about,” Steve says nonchalantly, and a laugh bursts out of Eddie.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. What hickey?”

Eddie laughs harder, and Steve pulls him down into a kiss, smiling and nipping at his lower lip. Eddie lets him, revelling in the kisses as he remembers they’re laying in the doorway of Steve’s house, the door open, halfway on the porch. Nobody’s around to see them, except the trees and the clouds and maybe some lightning bugs.

Eddie pulls away when Steve starts to lick into his mouth intently, and Steve groans.

“Dinner,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve leans up to catch his lips again. “And then we can make out.”

“You’re the worst.”

Eddie presses a finger into the hickey, and Steve lets out a hiss and an Ow!

“Fucker.”

Eddie snickers and kisses him again before he pushes himself up.

Steve makes pasta. Eddie sits on the counter and watches as he fills a pot and turns on the stove, as he gets out the pasta from a cabinet and sets out vegetables on the counter. He tells Eddie about how basketball practice went, and Eddie is barely following along. He doesn’t know any of the terminology, and Steve doesn’t seem to realize that Eddie doesn’t know anything about basketball, but Eddie doesn’t mind. Because Steve is ranting, his voice soft and smooth and content as he spins a knife in his fingers without even noticing himself do it (and that’s so much hotter than it should be) before he starts chopping the vegetables. He knows what he’s doing, and even though he’s talking the whole time, he finishes with the vegetables faster than Eddie could ever chop them. (Also Eddie would definitely at least nick his finger a few times, but Steve does it all effortlessly, smoothly. And Eddie grips the edge of the counter to control himself.)

Steve sits on the counter when he finishes, sliding the plates across the surface so they’re in front of Eddie, joining the cans of 7-Up, and hopping up. That’s effortless too; he seems weightless as he moves up onto the counter that Eddie had to use one of the chairs to get on. Eddie presses his lips together and pops open his soda.

“Cannot believe my boyfriend’s a normie,” he says quietly, and Steve snorts.

Eddie looks at him as he’s sipping his soda, and his heart swells when he sees the way Steve’s eyes are shining, almost sparkling.

“Problem?” Steve says playfully.

“You got a problem with your boyfriend bein’ a freak?” Eddie asks, tilting his head, and Steve tilts his head back before he reaches out and hooks his fingers on the silver chain around Eddie’s neck. He pulls him in so they’re both leaning over the plates between them and kisses him softly.

Steve hums thoughtfully when they part, eyes lingering on Eddie’s lips before he says, “No. I like it.”

Eddie giggles.

They go to the living room after eating, and Eddie comes up behind him as he leads him down the hall, stooping down and wrapping his arms around his legs to pick him up, holding him over his shoulder. Steve shrieks and clutches at him, laughing loudly as Eddie carries him into the living room and dumps him on the sofa before pouncing on top of him. Steve is laughing carelessly, happily, and Eddie’s whole body aches as he looks at him, at the way his eyes squint under his smile, at the way his hair is messy, now dry and a little frizzy.

“Are you gonna give me another?” Steve asks between kisses, his fingers in Eddie’s hair as they lick the taste of pasta out of each other’s mouths.

“You want more?” he asks breathlessly.

“Yes, please.”

Eddie shifts so he’s straddling Steve’s hips, and he sits up, tying his hair up in a ponytail with the hair tie around his wrist. Steve giggles, watching, his hands on Eddie’s thighs.

“Where do you want it?” Eddie asks, running his hands across Steve’s chest. Steve’s cheeks are pink, and he looks up at Eddie like he’s fucking reverent before he tilts his head, exposing the side of his neck, the side that’s bare. Eddie grins.

He leans down, brushing Steve’s hair out of the way, and Steve sighs as Eddie brushes his lips over his skin.

“You want it like the other one?” Eddie murmurs.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes.

Eddie kisses his neck softly at first, smiling when Steve’s hands squeeze his thighs. He takes his time, pressing soft, lingering kisses across his skin for a while before he starts licking him, short kitten licks that make Steve exhale slowly, melting into the sofa, his hands loosening on Eddie’s legs before they slide around to his ass and squeeze. Eddie giggles, lifting his head to look at his neck. He can see his veins beneath his skin in some places, and part of him feels like a vampire here, gazing at them.

He presses a kiss to his neck and slides his mouth across his skin until he feels his pulse against his lips. He hums softly, pausing there, feeling the rhythm of Steve’s heartbeat against his lips, lingering. It’s a little fast, and Eddie smiles.

“Eddie,” Steve whines. “Bite me.”

Eddie snorts.

“Rude.”

“You know what the fuck I mean.” Eddie can hear the smile in his voice.

“I know what the fuck you mean.”

He kisses his pulse. And then bites.

Steve lets out a shaky exhale, his hands tightening. Eddie closes his eyes, enjoying himself as he sucks on Steve’s skin, as he bites him and scrapes his teeth over it, as he soothes the spot between bites with gentle swipes of his tongue, as Steve squeezes his ass absentmindedly, almost kneading it. They’re both humming softly, and Steve is letting out strained groans as Eddie bites him, murmuring curses and Eddie’s name under his breath.

When he finally sits up, he looks at the spot on Steve’s neck, and it’s already bruising.

“Might actually be worse than the first one, actually,” Eddie says thoughtfully, brushing over it with his thumb. Steve exhales without opening his eyes.

“Thank fuck,” he says, smiling when Eddie snorts. “Want ‘em to see it.”

“You are an attention whore,” Eddie says, smiling as he leans down to kiss Steve’s lips, and then he kisses across his face as Steve laughs softly.

“‘S fun,” he says as Eddie kisses his jawline, nipping at his skin with his teeth.

“You want one more?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Eddie gives him one more. This time it’s just under his ear, and Eddie can smell his shampoo as he bites and licks and kisses him, smiling the whole time as Steve whines and groans and swears.

“Eddie,” he says when Eddie finally pulls away.

“Yeah,” Eddie says breathlessly.

“I wanna come.”

“Go ahead.”

Steve whines again, his eyes squeezing shut, and Eddie shifts on his lap, grinding down on him and grinning when Steve gasps. Steve’s hands slide to Eddie’s hips, pulling him down harder.

“Shit, Eddie, I’m—”

“You got it,” Eddie says softly, reaching to his neck and curiously, carefully holding his throat so his fingers press into the bruises. Steve keens, his fingers so tight on Eddie they might bruise (and wouldn’t that be nice: the memory of Steve’s hand on him), and he lets out a loud moan, follows by a breathless Yes.

Eddie tightens his hand, grinding against him again and grinning when Steve lets out an open-mouthed moan, and he’s suddenly very grateful that Steve lives in the fucking woods, that nobody is around to hear him like this. Then he remembers that no one ever has heard him like this, and his grin widens, because he’s the first. Because he gets this, and no one else does.

And because—

“Never thought I’d get this,” he murmurs, leaning down to nudge their noses together, still moving against Steve. Steve’s eyes flutter open to look at him, and he reaches a hand up to touch Eddie’s face. His eyes are glassy. “Even in my wildest fuckin’ dreams. Never thought I’d get anything like you.”

Steve whimpers, his other hand sliding up Eddie’s back, pushing his shirt up.

“Me too,” he says breathlessly. He sits up, pushing his face into Eddie’s neck and kissing him desperately, panting as he pulls at the small of Eddie’s back. Eddie smiles, tilting his head for him and closing his eyes, hugging his neck and pushing his fingers into his hair.

“Eddie,” Steve chokes after another minute.

“Yeah, baby.”

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Me too.”

They hold each other as they come back down, arms tight around each other, faces buried in each other’s necks, and Eddie giggles quietly.

“That was fun,” Steve mumbles. Eddie kisses his neck softly and lifts his head, looking at him. His hair is messy, which Eddie loves, and his eyes are half-closed.

“Yeah, it was.”

He kisses him slowly, tenderly, holding his face. Steve doesn’t open his eyes when they part, his face relaxed, blissful.

“Will you spend the night with me?” he asks softly. “Please?”

Eddie just giggles and kisses him again.

He isn’t allowed to make fun of his wallpaper, which Steve tells him before he leads him upstairs, which just piques his interest. He hides his face in his shirt when they finally go into Steve’s room, trying not to laugh at the horrific plaid wallpaper, but he can’t hold back his giggles when he hears Steve snort.

They take a shower. Steve does his hair with some of his fancy products that smell nice, and Eddie tells him it’s never happening again. Steve sticks his tongue out at him in the mirror, his fingers dragging through his curls, but Eddie decides he’ll let Steve do this whenever he wants to when he sees the way his eyes are shining as he’s scrunching his curls and twisting them around his finger. He looks like he’s making art instead of doing Eddie’s hair.

Also, it feels nice. Which is a nice plus.

And every once in a while Steve’s bare chest presses to Eddie’s back as he reaches for another product. Which…

He’s so warm. Probably because of the shower and the lingering steam in the room, but Eddie thinks it might just be him. Like there’s sunlight in his veins.

In the morning, Eddie wakes up with his chest to Steve’s back, his arm draped across his waist, and he sits up slowly, squinting in the sunlight as he looks down at Steve, who shifts after Eddie’s movement. There are two bruises on the side of his neck that Eddie can see, and he smiles. He leans down and kisses one, and Steve inhales, one of his hands lifting sleepily and reaching for Eddie, who takes it and lifts it to his lips.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Eddie says roughly when Steve blinks his eyes open and rolls onto his back. Steve smiles and opens his arms, and Eddie lies on top of him, sighing as Steve’s arms wrap around him.

Eddie falls in love with mornings like this. Steve gets used to Eddie waking up early in the morning before his alarm clock goes off, and it becomes routine for him to just pull Eddie into a hug for a while. It also becomes routine for him to complain that they have to get up. Neither of them ever wants to, not when they know they have to go to school and they won’t be able to kiss each other or hold each other, when they’ll be separated until after school (unless Steve has basketball, or Eddie has Hellfire or band practice). But they still go.

Eddie hears the rumors and gossip swirling around school. About Steve’s secret girlfriend. About the hickeys that he refuses to hide. There are countless theories about whose mouth could have left them there. One of Steve’s friends asks if Steve refuses to tell them who it is because it’s a freshman, and Steve gags before glaring at him.

“No, I’m not a fucking creep.”

“Alright, we’re narrowing it down.”

Steve just rolls his eyes.

Theories span from other students, girls that Steve has and hasn’t hooked up with, to teachers, but when someone asks if it’s a teacher Steve just laughs.

Nobody even glances Eddie’s way.

— — — — —

Steve’s car is in front of the trailer when Eddie gets home from band practice. Eddie pauses when he parks the van, staring at it curiously for a moment before he gets out, grabbing his bag from the passenger seat of the van.

“Hello?” he says when he walks inside, looking at Steve and Wayne on the sofa. Steve’s legs are crossed, and he’s holding a mug in his hands, smiling contently. They’re watching a baseball game on the television.

“Hi, baby,” Steve says lightly.

“Are you coming over just to hang out with my uncle now?” Eddie asks as he kicks his sneakers off and sets his bag on the table. Steve’s head is tilted toward him, but his eyes are on the television, and Eddie smiles at how careless he looks, comfortable in Eddie’s living room. Eddie leans down to press a chaste kiss to his lips, and Steve smiles.

“I forgot you had practice today,” Steve says. “And there happened to be a game on.”

“Ah,” Eddie says, collapsing heavily onto the sofa between them. “So you guys aren’t becoming best friends.”

“Obviously Steve and I are best friends,” Wayne says dryly, turning to press a kiss to Eddie’s temple, eyes still on the game. Steve giggles, and Eddie grins.

He loves them.

He hasn’t told Steve yet (yet), but he thinks it all the time now. Every time he looks down at his sleeping face, every time he asks for a new hickey, every time he sees him laugh with Wayne.

They keep ganging up on Eddie together, teasing him about his hair, his music, his clothes. (Wayne teases him and calls him a vampire when he sees the way he’s marked up Steve’s neck. Steve burns red the first time, but Eddie just grins, shameless.)

Eddie fucking loves it. Loves seeing their eyes sparkle, loves the way Wayne ruffles his hair affectionately, which he starts to do to Steve too. Whenever Steve is home when Wayne comes back or goes off to work, Wayne reaches to muss his hair before he leaves, and even though he’s Steve the Hair Harrington, Steve just grins and hunches his shoulders like a little kid.

Wayne calls Steve son. Eddie can see the way Steve’s eyes shine every time he says it.

And he sees the way Steve’s eyes shine when Wayne comes home one morning to find them on the sofa and kisses both their foreheads almost mindlessly, murmuring a soft Good morning before he heads off to shower and go to bed.

Eddie’s heart feels warm as he watches Wayne kiss Steve’s forehead, and then Steve watches Wayne disappear down the hall before he looks at Eddie, his eyes shining.

And then they’re glistening, and his lip quivers, and Eddie frowns.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, turning toward him, and touching his face as a tear escapes.

“Just…”

He shrugs, closing his eyes and falling against Eddie, who takes him into his arms.

“What is it?” Eddie asks gently, holding him and swaying as he rubs his arm.

“He’s really nice,” Steve says finally, his voice weak. Eddie smiles into his hair.

“He is, isn’t he?”

Steve sighs shakily, reaching to hold Eddie’s forearm.

“Sorry,” he says after a moment. “I don’t know why that was… I don’t know. Overwhelming.”

“‘S alright, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, leaning to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

And he aches to say it. That he loves him.

But he doesn’t. Not now. Not when Steve’s already crying because he’s gotten casual affection that he isn’t used to.

It gets progressively more difficult to hold it back as time passes. Every time they say goodbye when they leave for school, every time they make out in a bathroom or a janitor’s closet with their veins full of adrenaline, every time they murmur greetings into each other’s mouths, every time they kiss regardless of their morning breath, every time Steve smiles the way he smiles every single time Wayne ruffles his hair and kisses his forehead.

— — — — —

They’re watching a movie when Steve’s parents come home. Steve is laying on Eddie’s chest as they lay on the sofa in the living room, his fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, and Eddie feels a little sleepy, but the air stills when they hear a car pull into the driveway.

Eddie is about to ask who it could be when Steve sits up abruptly.

“What day is it?” he asks frantically, looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

“Uh, Saturday?” Eddie says, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie. Steve stands, clearly in a panic as he reaches for his hair.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Wait, wha— Babe, what’s…”

“‘S my parents,” Steve says, looking at Eddie desperately. “I forgot they were coming home today, I—”

Eddie reaches and gently pulls his hands out of his hair, squeezing them.

“It’s okay,” he says softly despite the panic in his own chest. “It’s alright. We’re friends, right?”

Steve exhales, lacing their fingers and squeezing as the front door opens.

“Okay,” he says softly.

Steve’s parents look how Eddie expected. His mother’s hair is stiff, frozen in place with an abundant amount of hairspray, and his father is wearing a suit that’s somehow not wrinkled despite the drive back to Hawkins from the airport.

Steve already seems mad at them. Eddie wonders if he is.

His mom kisses him on the cheek in greeting, but Steve looks stiff, smiling tightly as Eddie lingers in the doorway, hands rubbing his legs anxiously, trying to look normal.

“Who’s this?” Steve’s mom asks, eyeing Eddie when she releases Steve from their uncomfortable embrace. She’s looking him up and down. They both are.

“Uh, this is my— my friend,” Steve says, and Eddie waves, smiling. “Eddie.”

“Eddie,” his mom says lightly, but it’s a forced lightness. “What’s your last name, hun?”

It’s sickly sweet.

“Uh, Munson,” Eddie says, and Steve’s father finally speaks.

“Munson,” he repeats, looking at Eddie distastefully. His nose is almost wrinkled, like the rips in Eddie’s jeans have a stench.

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought your parents moved from Hawkins.”

Eddie blinks in surprise, and he remembers suddenly how small Hawkins really is. They probably went to school together.

“They did,” he says. “When I was sixteen. I live with my uncle now.”

“Your uncle.”

“Wayne Munson,” Eddie says confidently.

Steve’s father nods, looking at Eddie again, and then he turns to Steve with an air of disappointment around him. Steve seems to shrink into himself when their eyes meet, and Eddie wants to grab his hand and pull him away, to take him somewhere his father can’t look at him. To take him home.

“This is who you’re fraternizing with now?” he says as though Eddie isn’t even there. “A Munson? What happened to the Hagan boy?”

“I— I’m still friends with Tommy,” Steve says, and he even sounds like a kid now. “I can have more than one friend—”

“Stephen.”

Steve shrinks back even farther, looking down.

“I don’t want you fraternizing with people like this,” his father says, gesturing toward Eddie, who just watches, eyes wide, heart pounding, aching because Steve looks so scared. And a part of him wants to laugh at the use of fraternize. If he only knew that his son begs for Eddie to dig his teeth into his neck until bruises bloom on his skin, for Eddie to tug his pants down his legs and toss them aside, for Eddie to kiss him like the world is ending.

“You don’t even know them,” Steve says, looking up at his father anxiously. “Wayne is—”

“I knew Wayne in school,” his father snaps. “A pathetic underachiever, he isn’t the type we associate with, Stephen.”

Eddie’s hands are shaking. He glares at him, curling his fingers into fists to suppress the shaking, but it doesn’t work.

Steve is glaring at him too. Slowly, he raises his chin, squares his shoulders, and he’s shaking too.

“Don’t talk about Wayne like that.”

Eddie looks at him.

His father scoffs.

“You have no reason to associate with his type, he’ll rub off on you, Stephen,” he says matter-of-factly. “You need to stick the Hagans, not… trailer park trash.”

“Don’t talk about Wayne like that,” Steve says again, his voice louder, and his father looks taken aback, blinking in surprise.

“Stephen—”

“Wayne Munson is a good man,” Steve says firmly, his voice shaking a little. “He’s— He’s kind, and— and hardworking, and he—”

“I knew him in school, Stephen,” his father says again, his voice condescending and mean, and Steve snaps.

“That’s your problem,” he bursts loudly, and Eddie’s never seen him this angry. “You’re so stuck in your head, and— and focussed on stupid fucking juvenile things like popularity a— and— and social status, that can’t see past your own fucking nose.”

His father is staring at him, wide-eyed, scandalized.

“You’ve lived your life with your father’s fucking money, and you got everything handed to you,” Steve says angrily, jabbing his father’s chest with his fingers. “Your house was a wedding gift, and your job was waiting for you when you finished college, which you didn’t even pay for. You never had to fucking worry about affording food or water or a car.”

He’s breathing hard, and Eddie’s lips part in awe as he watches.

“Wayne fought for everything he has,” Steve says, his voice rough now. “You wouldn’t survive a day in his life, show him some fucking respect.”

Eddie’s eyes sting with tears, because Steve is defending Wayne. Standing up against his father even though he doesn’t have to, even though Wayne isn’t here to hear it. Even though he’s scared.

It’s quiet suddenly as Steve and his father stare at each other, and Steve is challenging him, chin raised as he looks into his eyes, hands in fists by his sides. Eddie can hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

And then his father is looking at Eddie, almost scoffing.

“What have you done to him?” he asks lightly, like it’s a joke, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do, what to say, but it doesn’t matter, because Steve speaks again.

“Don’t you fucking look at him.”

His father looks at him again, his eyebrows raised.

“If you have a problem with me, it’s with me,” Steve says evenly, firmly. “Not him.”

It’s quiet again. Eddie’s hands ball into fists, and adrenaline courses through his veins as he waits, just about ready to push his way between them, to do whatever he has to.

“How dare you speak to me like this? I’m your father—”

“I don’t care.”

“Stephen,” his mother says, speaking finally from where she’s backed into a corner, and Eddie looks at her, noticing how young she suddenly looks.

“I don’t care!” Steve yells. He looks at her, and then back at his father. “I don’t care. I’m sick and fucking tired of listening to you talk about people like this, especially people I love,” he says, his voice rapid and angry, and holy shit—

“You come home after leaving for weeks,” Steve says, skimming right past it like he didn’t notice himself say it, and Eddie is crying now, because Steve loves Wayne, Steve loves Wayne, Steve loves Wayne— “And the first thing you do every goddamn time is start bitching about the dishes in the sink, or the dirt on my car, or what my hair looks like, or who I’m with, or the fact that I didn’t call or I called too much, and there’s nothing I can fucking do right, and I don’t care.”

Eddie wipes his cheek quickly, sniffing as he watches Steve’s father nod, running his tongue over his teeth as he stares at Steve.

“You think I’m only here because of my father’s money,” he says slowly, eerily calm, ignoring everything Steve’s said. “Then we’ll see where you end up without your father’s money, how does that sound?”

“Sounds great,” Steve says without a beat. “At least I won’t end up as big an asshole as you.”

And then he’s turning and grabbing Eddie’s hand, pulling him out of the living room and toward the door, where they slip their shoes on and head out the door, leaving their dirty dishes on the coffee table as if in spite.

Steve is breathing hard as they get into the Beemer and pull out of the driveway, as they drive down the road, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do. He’s the only one crying, which feels wrong, but he can’t stop.

But even though Steve isn’t crying, his hands are shaking, and he’s breathing too hard, too fast, and Eddie finally reaches out to touch his arm. The road is luckily empty, but anxiety builds in his chest as Steve’s chest rises and falls and rises and falls.

“Stevie, pull over for me.”

Steve doesn’t pull over, still breathing hard, and Eddie shifts in his seat to face him, squeezing his arm.

“Steve. Pull over.”

Steve finally does, pulling over on the side of the road and putting the car in park. His hands fall to his lap, trembling, and Eddie squeezes his arm again.

He lets go to wipe his own face quickly, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to face Steve completely, reaching to take one of his hands. Steve laces their fingers, still breathing too fast.

“Stevie, baby, look at me.”

Steve inhales sharply, and he turns to look at Eddie before he exhales slowly. Eddie nods, squeezing his hand.

“There you go,” he says softly. “Need you to breathe.”

Steve closes his eyes, nodding and taking a deep breath. Eddie runs his thumb across his knuckles, waiting as he exhales slowly, pauses, then inhales again.

When his breathing is slow again, he squeezes Eddie’s hand and turns toward him. They look at each other, and both of them are crying now, their eyes filled with tears. Eddie reaches out to wipe one away when it falls down Steve’s cheek, and Steve leans forward to press their foreheads together.

“Thank you,” Eddie murmurs softly.

“For what?” Steve whispers, twisting their fingers.

“...Standing up for Wayne like that,” Eddie says, his voice breaking. “I just…”

Steve lifts his head, looking at him, and his lip quivers, and he looks like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know what.

“I love you,” Eddie says, his voice thick as another tear falls down his cheek. Steve blinks, and tears fall from his eyes, and Eddie wipes them away.

“...Really?” Steve asks in a small voice. Eddie nods, smiling softly.

“Yeah. Really. I really, really love you.”

Steve blinks again, his lip quivering as his eyebrows raise like he’s shocked.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a while,” Eddie says. “I just— You stood up for Wayne like that, and—” He sobs weakly, taking a stuttering breath.

“I love you too,” Steve says quickly, reaching to hold Eddie’s face. “And I love Wayne, and I love your trailer and all your fucking mugs and your posters and your music and—”

Eddie pulls him into a kiss, squeezing his eyes shut. Steve kisses him back desperately, hands holding Eddie’s face, fingers slipping into his curls. (Which have been so much softer and smoother since Steve’s been taking care of them.) When they part, they stay close, their foreheads pressing, taking slow, deep breaths as they hold each other.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Steve says after a while, his voice soft. Eddie sighs, caressing his cheek, and Steve turns his face into it, his eyes closed. There are tears caught in his eyelashes, and wet streaks down his cheeks, and his nose is rosy, and Eddie aches with how beautiful he is. He wonders how quickly he actually fell in love with him. If it was so fast he didn’t even notice until he almost blurted it out loud without thinking.

“Come home,” Eddie whispers, stroking his cheek. “You can borrow some clothes from me and Wayne, and we can go to yours to pack a bag if we need to.”

“...Okay,” Steve breathes.

He goes home.

Wayne is in the kitchen making himself coffee and a sandwich when they finally get to the trailer, and he notices right away that something is wrong. He leaves everything on the kitchen counter as he comes closer, looking at their tear-streaked faces.

“What happened?” he asks anxiously, wiping crumbs off his hands on his legs as Eddie and Steve kick their shoes off, and Steve wordlessly crosses the room toward him and pulls him into a tight hug. Wayne hugs him back tightly, looking up at Eddie worriedly. Eddie just smiles, watching.

Steve is crying again, shaking in Wayne’s arms, and Wayne runs his hands up and down his back firmly. Eddie leans against the table by the door, watching as Wayne closes his eyes, murmuring something too quiet for Eddie to hear. But Eddie hears Steve’s response, even though his voice is muffled by Wayne’s shoulder.

“I love you, Wayne.”

Wayne’s arms tighten around him, and they sway, and Wayne runs a hand over his back and he turns his face to kiss Steve’s head.

“I love you, too, Stevie, I got you.”

It’s like he knows.

Wayne carefully wipes Steve’s tears when they finally part, nodding and whispering to him. Eddie watches. He’s crying again. Wayne holds his hand out to him when he notices, and Eddie moves forward, taking it and leaning against Steve’s back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as Steve sighs.

Wayne gets them both glasses of water and has them sit on the sofa. Eddie tells him what happened. Wayne’s eyes get glassy as he listens, looking at Steve, who’s quietly sipping his water and looking at the floor, his cheeks red like he’s embarrassed. And then Wayne is pulling him into another hug and kissing his forehead.

And he tells Steve that he’s home now. That he’s safe here. And then Steve is crying again, falling against Wayne as Eddie takes his glass and carefully sets it aside, smiling despite the tears.

Eddie and Steve stay in the living room when Wayne heads off to work after ruffling their hair and kissing their foreheads. It’s quiet when he’s gone, when they hear his car drive away. They’re sitting side by side, and the room is darker than it was when they got home because the sun’s set and nobody turned on the lights.

Eddie reaches for Steve’s hand. Their fingers lace. Steve squeezes.

He falls against Eddie after a moment, his head on Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie releases his hand to wrap his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

“My school stuff is at my parents’,” Steve says quietly, mumbling a little bit. He’s tired. Eddie can hear it in his voice, can feel it in how heavy he feels against Eddie.

“We’ll pick it up tomorrow,” Eddie says softly, running his fingers through Steve’s hair to pull it out of his face. “And we’ll get your hair stuff and clothes and everything. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not,” Steve breathes. “Just thinking.”

“...You wanna go to bed?”

“...Yeah.”

They go slowly, sleepily. Eddie brushes his teeth while Steve changes, and Steve brushes his teeth while Eddie changes. (He already has a toothbrush here, set in a cup with Eddie’s.)

He’s wearing Eddie’s boxers and a sweatshirt. He looks beautiful.

They climb into bed in the dark, seeing through touches and the sliver of moonlight, and before Eddie is even laying down, Steve is pulling him into a messy, sleepy kiss. It tastes like their mint toothpaste.

Eddie sucks on his lip, guiding Steve onto his back gently, listening to him sigh, feeling his hands dance down his spine. Eddie smiles against his mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers softly when he pulls away for a breath, and Steve hums, fingertips digging into his back.

Eddie tilts his head and kisses down his cheek and jaw before he buries his face in Steve’s neck. Steve tilts his head to give him room, sighing again.

“You want one?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Mhmm.”

Eddie smiles again, kissing his neck, and their legs entwine under the blanket as he bites down on Steve’s pulse. Steve whines weakly, pushing a hand under Eddie’s shirt to touch his skin. His hands are warm. They always are.

Right now, Steve’s fingers press into his skin as Eddie’s teeth press into his, and Eddie revels in the way his breaths come out sharper, the way he hums and swears, and when Eddie finishes, he kisses the spot softly, tenderly, before licking it to soothe it. Steve hums, wrapping his arms around Eddie tightly.

Eddie can’t see the bruise in the dark.

He’ll see it in the morning when he wakes up before him and looks down to gaze at him in the morning light, before Steve stirs and opens his arms to hug him.

The thought makes Eddie kiss him one more time, his lips landing somewhere on his cheek as they roll onto their sides slowly, and Steve hums, sighing sleepily. In the morning, Eddie will hold him, and then Wayne will come home as they’re drinking coffee. He’ll ruffle their hair and kiss their foreheads, and Steve will feel beautiful and loved, and he’ll know that he’s home.

Eddie can’t wait for the sun to rise.

[ghosttotheparty]

lonely with you

part two also on ao3 cw: alcohol; weed; panic attack; nsfw

“Hey, uhm. Can we talk for a minute?”

Eddie pauses as he rummages through his bag, crouched on the floor as he shoves the worksheet he just got to the bottom of his bag. (He’ll probably forget about it. Again.) He looks up to find Steve Harrington standing over him, looking down at him with an almost anxious look in his eye.

“Uh.” Eddie pauses, looking him up and down. “Sure?”

“Like…”

Steve gestures with a tilt of his chin down the hall, toward the bathroom. Eddie glances down the hall, his hand still in his bag, and then he nods, zipping his bag up and tossing it over his shoulder as he follows him down the hall.

Steve’s hair moves while he walks, almost bouncing with each step. It’s shiny. It’s so much healthier than Eddie’s is. It looks soft.

Eddie pushes the thought away as the door shuts behind them as Steve turns to look at him after checking to make sure there’s no one in the stalls. His arms are crossed over his chest like he’s defensive, like he’s hiding, and he leans against the wall by the sinks.

“I don’t have anything on me today,” Eddie says, dropping his bag. “I can take an order and get back to you, or…”

He trails off when he sees the confusion flicker in Steve’s eyes, and then Steve blinks.

“That’s not… Uhm. What I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Okay. What’s going on, then?” He leans against the wall across from him, pushing his hands into his pockets as he eyes him confusedly. He’s never had an actual conversation with Steve Harrington, nothing beyond weed or pills exchanged for cash at parties, but Steve has always been different from the others that Eddie sold to. He always smiled. Nobody else ever smiles, not unless they’re already high. But Steve, fully sober, always, always gives Eddie this soft, kind, friendly smile that always lingers in Eddie’s mind afterwards.

It’s not that he has a crush. Steve Harrington is attractive, Eddie knows that. Everyone knows that. He’s Steve Harrington. But Eddie apparently has a little bit of a soft spot for anyone that’s kind of him, anyone that smiles at him like he’s just a person instead of the local druggie, weirdo, freak. And apparently anyone is just Steve.

“Uh.” Steve hesitates, lifting a hand and biting his thumbnail anxiously, looking at the floor. “I’ve heard some, uhm. Rumors. About you.”

Eddie blinks, raising an eyebrow. There are lots of rumors about him.

“That you’re…” Steve continues, his eyes shining brightly, nervously. He’s shaking a little bit. “That you’re— you’re queer?”

Eddie blinks again.

His stomach twists, and part of him wants to snap at him. Fuck you, Harrington. Because the last boy that pulled him aside and brought that rumor up, that asked if it’s true, just had Eddie kneel on the floor and suck him off before he left. Eddie liked it, liked the weight of his dick in his mouth, the feeling of his fingers in his hair, but he didn’t like the way the boy coldly said Keep your mouth shut about this as though Eddie would have told anyone. And he didn’t like the way the boy barely looked at him ever again, except when he bought from him in front of his friends, and he didn’t like the way the next time Eddie tried to talk to him he snapped at him that it was a one-time thing.

I’m not— I’m not like you. I just wanted to get off.

Eddie wants to walk past Steve, to let the door slam behind him, because he never wants another boy to look at him like that again. Disgusted. Like he didn’t ask for it. Like he didn’t beg for it.

But Steve is staring at him, unblinking, his eyes shining so brightly it looks like he might start crying, and he’s shaking, and Eddie is saying, “Yeah,” before he can say anything.

“Is it… Is it true?” Steve asks quietly, whispering.

“Yeah,” Eddie says.

Yeah.

He’s never said it out loud before. That he’s gay. Queer.

He never had to say it out loud to Wayne. He knew the day Eddie moved in with him, murmured that everything was okay as he put the colourful band-aid on his face.

Steve exhales. He nods. Looks at the ground.

Eddie waits. It’s quiet in the bathroom, and one of the sinks is dripping, the quiet tap tap tap tap tap echoing in the tile room.

“Why do you ask?” Eddie asks after a long minute. Steve lifts his head. His lips are pressed together, and he looks away from Eddie as a tear falls down his cheek. “Whoa, what’s wrong?” Eddie says, panicking a little, standing up straight off the wall he’s leaning on and moving a little bit closer. “Are you okay?”

“I—” Steve wipes his face quickly, and Eddie’s stomach twists again. “I think I might… be like you.”

Eddie freezes, looking at him.

“Like me,” he repeats slowly. Steve nods, blinking tears out of his eyes, and he looks so… scared. Eddie’s whole body hurts. “Oh.”

“I just… I’m kind of freaking out about it, and I— I don’t know what to do, and I didn’t know who to talk to about it, but I needed to…”

“It’s cool,” Eddie says reassuringly, trying to smile. “Steve, it’s fine, man, alright? I won’t tell anyone.”

Steve nods, squeezing his eyes shut and wiping his face again. Eddie steps past him into a stall and grabs some toilet paper, bunching it up before he gives it to him, and Steve takes it with a quiet, “Thank you,” and then a muttered apology.

“You don’t have to be sorry, man,” Eddie says softly. “It’s cool.”

Steve uses the paper to wipe his face. His cheeks are pink, and they redden more as he rubs tears off his skin too roughly. Eddie kind of wants to take over, to wipe his tears softly, gently, the way he deserves. He doesn’t.

“It’s…” He hesitates. Steve looks at him. “It’s cool to… know there’s someone else. That gets it.”

Steve nods, half-smiling.

It’s quiet for a moment as he sniffles, looking at the ground again, at his clean white sneakers next to Eddie’s dirty black chucks. Eddie reaches out for him hesitantly, touching his forearm, and he pulls gently. Steve falls against him easily, and their arms wrap around each other tightly. They sway slightly, quiet as they embrace each other, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut.

“Steve,” he says after a few moments. “You listening?”

“Yeah?”

Eddie pulls back enough to look at him, holding his shoulders firmly. Steve’s hands find his forearms, gentle and tentative. Eddie hesitates for a moment before he speaks.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he says firmly. Steve’s lip quivers. “You understand me?” he says quietly, leaning closer as he speaks, and Steve’s hands tighten on his arms. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Okay,” Steve says weakly.

“Okay,” Eddie repeats softly, He squeezes Steve’s shoulders.

The bell rings as Steve is taking a deep breath, and Eddie pauses as he watches Steve lean down to pick up his bag. He looks tired now, drained and exhausted, but he isn’t crying anymore.

“Uh, hey,” Eddie says before he can leave. Steve looks at him. “...You know where I live, right? Cherry Lane?” Steve nods, looking at him curiously. “...Do you wanna come over tonight? Just to— to talk about it?”

Steve’s lips twitch into a smile, and he nods.

“Thank you,” he says quietly before he leaves.

Eddie leans against the wall Steve had been leaning on, sighing heavily and rubbing his face. He drops his hands after a moment, and he feels different. Lighter. He can’t place exactly what it is that’s different now, but he turns to look in the mirror to see if he looks any different. He doesn’t. Still messy-haired, still weird. He picks his bag up off the ground and leaves.

— — — — —

Wayne leaves for work just as Eddie is getting home, and he pauses in the living room as Eddie is nudging his boots out of the way to ruffle his hair and kiss his forehead. Eddie swats him away, pretending he doesn’t love it. Wayne’s done it since Eddie was a kid, since before he moved in with him. Even Eddie’s own parents never showed him affection like this, but Wayne always did, on his way in and his way out of Eddie’s parents’ house. Eddie always looked forward to it. Now it’s daily, a regular standard for what makes a good day. When Eddie misses him on his way to work he misses it.

Eddie waits in the living room, laying upside down on the sofa with a book above his head. He’s changed into sweatpants and an old sweatshirt that’s stained with bleach, the dark fabric reddish-orange in spots. His hair is falling from the bun he tied it up in as he turns the pages slowly, tapping his feet in time with the music that’s playing from the boombox in the corner. (They got it from one of the neighbors that moved away two years ago; Eddie loves it with all his heart.)

He scrambles up when there’s a knock on the door, stumbling over his own feet and dropping the book. He stoops to pick it up, losing his page, just before he opens the door to find Steve, wide-eyed.

“You okay?” Steve asks, glancing at Eddie’s messy hair.

“I’m very clumsy,” Eddie says, remembering how thin the walls in, and he steps aside, gesturing with the book. “Come on in.”

“I’m aware,” Steve says, stepping past him. “We had gym together last year, it was like watching a baby giraffe learn to walk.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says, shutting the door, snorting as Steve shoots him an amused look, and they fall quiet as Steve looks around the living room and kitchen. “Uh, it’s not much, but…”

“I like it,” Steve says. He seems to sense Eddie’s disbelief, and he shoots him another look. “I’m serious. It’s nice.” He looks back around. “It looks like you actually live here. My place looks like a goddamn catalogue set.” He wanders slowly, eyes scanning Wayne’s hats and mugs, the stains on the walls. “White walls, white carpets.”

“No childhood mudstains?” Eddie asks, leaning against the table by the door.

“Once,” Steve says, pausing to read one of the trucker hats, smiling absently. “Dad beat the shit outta me and the carpets were replaced within the next three days.”

Eddie blinks, and Steve pauses again, seemingly realizing what he’s just said. He turns a little, his face pink as he looks at Eddie.

“Anyway.”

Eddie scoffs at the lightness of his tone.

“You want a beer?” he asks, heading to the kitchen, wondering what he did in his life to deserve this, Steve Harrington exploring his living room like it’s a fine arts exhibit, like it’s a gallery.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Eddie gets two beers from the fridge and cracks them open with the bottle opener magnet before he passes one to Steve over the sink, and then he beckons with a tilt of his head.

“Think you might like my room,” he says, leading him down the hall.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?”

“Hah.” Eddie ignores the way his face flushes with heat, but Steve doesn’t say anything else before they’re in Eddie’s room, and Eddie moves out of the way as Steve lets out an earnest, “Whoa.”

Eddie grins, taking a sip of his beer as Steve looks, wide-eyed, around the room. The music is still playing in the living room.

Now the tears, they fall like rain I'm alone again without you

Steve wanders slowly, looking at the posters on the walls, the drawings and ripped-out magazine pages, the faded photographs and newspaper clippings, the CORRODED COFFIN tapestry, the guitars. He looks like he’s in awe, almost smiling as he gazes at everything.

“I like it,” he says finally, turning to look at Eddie, who’s sitting on the edge of his bed, and Eddie quirks his eyebrows at him. Steve rolls his eyes and sips his beer, moving to sit on the floor, looking around again, this time at Eddie’s bed and the posters above it, at the mess on Eddie’s nightstand. Eddie slides off the bed onto the floor in front of him.

They’re quiet for a moment. Steve crosses his legs and draws his knees to his chest like he’s trying to shrink in on himself, and it feels odd to see the King like this, small and vulnerable and quiet.

“How did you know that you’re, uhm…” Steve trails off nervously, his lips brushing the top of his bottle.

“You can say gay, Steve,” Eddie says quietly. “‘S not a bad word.”

Steve glances at him.

“How did you know that you’re gay?” he asks. His voice is tentative, soft.

“Don’t think I ever really realized it,” Eddie says. “I think I just kind of always knew. I realized it wasn’t… I don’t know. Normal, I guess. When I was, like, thirteen.”

Steve is listening intently, looking at Eddie over his bottle and his knees, and his eyes are shining in that way again, bright and nervous and shy, and Eddie wonders how this boy in front of him ever became the King of Hawkins High when he’s looking at him like this.

“I kept quiet about it,” Eddie says, sensing that Steve doesn’t have anything to say. “After my dad found out, he… He wasn't happy. Wayne doesn’t mind. We don’t really talk about it, but…”

“How does he know?” Steve asks quietly. Eddie tilts his head.

“Dear old Dad had some choice words to say about me the next time Wayne came to visit. I went home with him that day. I was fifteen. And then the next year, Ma and Dad left town.”

Steve blinks his pretty eyes.

“‘M sorry.”

Eddie shrugs.

“Nothing to be sorry about. I don’t miss them.” He pauses, sipping his beer, then lifts his chin at Steve. “How’d you realize?” he asks, avoiding The Word, because it’s Steve Harrington. Notorious ladies’ man.

Steve shrugs shyly, looking down at the bottle in his hands.

“I don’t think I ever really liked girls,” he says quietly. “I only went out with them after I knew they liked me. I can tell when they’re flirting with me, and it just kind of… I don’t know. Felt like an obligation. I’d get them off if they wanted, but I think they could tell I wasn’t really into it, so we just kind of… Went on.”

Eddie blinks, a little surprised. Steve is still staring at the bottle, his eyes glazed over, and he speaks again, his voice soft like he doesn’t realize he’s speaking out loud.

“I could never get hard. Thought there was something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Steve,” Eddie says gently. Steve looks at him, his eyes wide like he’s startled, and then he looks away again, his gaze aimless as he looks at the ground. “...Steve?”

Steve takes a shuddering breath.

“...I think I’m dying,” he says so quietly Eddie almost doesn’t hear it. His hands are shaking now, the bottle moving with them, and when his eyes find Eddie’s again, shining with panic and unshed tears, Eddie realizes what’s happening. He reaches out to take the bottle as he sets his own aside.

“You’re not dying, sweetheart,” he says quietly, setting Steve’s bottle aside and moving a little closer. “You’re okay.”

Steve takes a sharp breath, and his eyes flicker back and forth between Eddie’s.

“My heart’s beating too fast,” he says weakly, panting, and Eddie’s chest aches at the fear in his eyes.

“I know,” he whispers, moving forward to touch him, pressing a hand firmly over his chest, over his heart. “It’ll slow down if you slow your breathing, okay?”

“Eddie—”

“Slowly,” Eddie says softly, nodding. “Breathe with me, you got it.” He inhales slowly, watching the way Steve’s eyes lower to watch his mouth. Steve’s hands raise a little bit, reaching for Eddie before they fall. “You can touch me,” Eddie says. “‘S alright.”

Steve’s hands find Eddie’s arms as his legs fall, and he pulls, closing his eyes as he tries to breathe slowly.

“You want me to come closer?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods.

Eddie shifts closer, moving so he can put his legs around him, and Steve clutches at his arms.

“I can’t breathe,” he chokes, opening his eyes to look at Eddie desperately. Tears fall down his cheeks as he gasps for breath.

“Yes, you can,” Eddie says softly, reaching with his other hand to wipe his face, and one of Steve’s hands jumps to it. Eddie thinks he’s about to swat it away, but he holds it to himself, closing his eyes again. Eddie brushes his thumb over his cheek. “Slowly, Stevie, inhale.”

Steve inhales, hiccupping and gasping, and Eddie presses against his heart.

“Hold it for a moment… And out. There you go,” he murmurs, watching the way Steve’s brows furrow in effort, watching the way he’s holding Eddie’s wrist tightly, his fingertips pressing into the fabric of Eddie’s sweatshirt. “Again, in, slow…”

He does it with him, guiding, demonstrating, blowing his hair out of his face as he exhales, and Steve’s breaths slow after a few minutes. His grip on Eddie’s wrist loosens, and he blinks his eyes open. Eddie brushes his thumb over his cheek.

“Alright?” he whispers.

“Sorry,” Steve says softly, turning his face into Eddie’s hands.

“Don’t,” Eddie whispers. “It’s okay.”

Steve takes a long, slow, breath, shuddering. Eddie moves a little closer without letting go of his face. He moves his other hand down, running over Steve’s waist before it rests on his leg.

“I’m…” Steve looks at him, his eyes glistening. “I’m so scared, Eddie,” he says weakly, his voice wavering. Eddie’s chest clenches.

“I know,” he whispers.

“I think— I think if my dad finds out, he’ll actually kill me, I—” He gasps, and Eddie leans in, his own eyes stinging.

“Hey, listen to me,” he says softly. “He won’t find out, okay? This is just between us.”

Steve sniffles, looking at him.

“You know how good I am at keeping secrets?” Eddie says, and Steve laughs wetly, reaching to wipe his face, but Eddie beats him to it. “No one else has to know,” he murmurs. “You’re safe here, Steve.”

Steve closes his eyes, and Eddie holds his face between his hands. They’re quiet for a moment, and Steve touches his wrists, running his hands down to squeeze his forearms like he’s grounding himself. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

“Why do I feel so…” He pauses, furrowing his brows again like he’s uncomfortable, like something is poking him. “Why do I feel so… dirty?” he whispers.

Eddie’s chest aches. He’s familiar with the feeling, the filth of existing.

“You’re not dirty,” he whispers back. “That’s how they want you to feel.”

Steve looks at him. Eddie pauses, swallowing, and his throat is tight now, because he’s never to explain this out loud, any of this. These thoughts that occurred to him late at night as he stared up at the ceiling in the dark, these thoughts that he wanted to whisper to the moon but was too scared to say out loud. He used to think saying it all out loud would make it real, but he knows now that it doesn’t matter how loud it all is. It’s real even when it’s just in his head. It was real before he was even born.

And he realizes at this moment, as he holds Steve’s face tenderly, as he feels Steve’s fingers press into his forearms and watches another tear slip over his fingers on Steve’s cheek, the feeling that he felt earlier today when Steve left him in the bathroom. The shift he felt under his skin like his cells were moving into place, like he has a whole new body.

Nothing is different, not really.

He just isn’t lonely anymore.

It’s like his body knows there’s someone else in this stupid fucking town that knows how he feels. Someone that matches him.

And he gets to say this out loud now. It’s not as scary when there’s someone to hear it. Someone to understand it.

“They make us out to be…” He pauses, licking his lips as he thinks. “These… filthy, perverted monsters. They talk about us and lie about us and make shit up about us being weird freaks, which, I mean, me personally, I guess it fits,” he says, his chest tightening when Steve half-smiles, scoffing. “But you, Steve Harrington,” he says, shaking Steve’s head lightly, making his smile widen, “are an upstanding citizen.”

“I buy drugs from you,” Steve says, leaning forward, and Eddie laughs lightly.

“You are not my most frequent customer.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head, but Eddie is still holding his face. He doesn’t let go.

“You are a good person, Steve Harrington,” he says quietly.

“You hardly know me,” Steve whispers.

Eddie looks at him. At his eyes. They’re hazel up close. Specked with green and brown and gold. He looks at the spots on his skin. Eddie wants to memorize them like constellations. There are tears caught in his eyelashes, and his nose and cheeks are rosy, and Eddie’s stomach flips over as he realizes just how beautiful he is. Not just hot, or attractive, but… Pretty. Lovely.

“You always smile at me when you pay me,” Eddie says softly, absently. “No one ever does that unless they’re high. But you smile every time.”

Steve blinks. Smiles. He has a beautiful smile.

“That makes me good?”

“That makes you better than the others,” Eddie whispers. “Makes you my favorite.”

Steve’s cheeks turn pink. Eddie smiles, brushing his thumbs over them.

“Tell me about you,” he says softly. “I wanna know you.”

Steve's smile falls. He’s quiet for a moment, running his hands over Eddie’s forearms before they fall to rest on his legs, and then his fingers play absently with the folds of his sweatpants.

“I’m lonely,” he says after a few moments, breathing the words quietly. “All the time. When I’m with my friends, when I’m at parties or at basketball practice or at games, I’m… I always feel like I’m hiding.” Eddie brushes his thumbs over his cheeks, listening. “I feel like I’m some… statue. Dressed as me, and— and pretending to be me, but no one really knows me.” He closes his eyes, turning his face into Eddie’s palm, leaning closer, pressing his hands over Eddie’s legs, and his voice shakes as he speaks again. “...I’m so lonely.”

“Me too,” Eddie whispers.

Steve sighs quietly, and he opens his eyes finally, looking at him.

“Can we be lonely together?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “I’d like that.”

Steve smiles, and then he closes his eyes, turning his face into Eddie’s palm again and sighing. Eddie gazes at him, and something settles in his chest. Something different than before.

— — — — —

“Have you ever kissed a boy?” Steve asks later as he passes the joint back to Eddie. They’re still on the floor, but they’ve moved to sit across from each other, Eddie with his back against the bed, Steve with his back against his dresser. Their empty beer bottles are on the ground with them, one of them knocked over, and the room is dim, lit up by the golden glow of the lamps next to Eddie’s bed. Steve bites into a red Twizzler as Eddie shakes his head, taking a hit.

“I’ve touched a few dicks,” he says, and Steve snorts, his eyes squinting as he giggles, chewing, holding the rest of the Twizzler in his hand. He’s so cute. “Sucked a grand total of two.”

“Was it nice?” Steve asks. Eddie shrugs, taking another drag.

“Was nice until they both insisted they’re not gay.”

“I’m assuming these were separate occasions,” Steve says, reaching for the joint.

“No, the three of us had a conference actually,” Eddie says sarcastically, and Steve rolls his eyes, taking a drag, and Eddie smiles, watching him. “Have you ever kissed a boy?” he asks.

Steve shakes his head, exhaling the smoke slowly.

“Kissed plenty of girls,” he says quietly. “But I assume they’re different.”

Eddie watches him take another drag, hesitating before he decides to just do it.

“Do you want to?”

Steve looks at him, his eyes flickering across his face as he exhales again, and then he nods. Eddie smiles, beckoning with a tilt of his head.

Steve puts the joint out in the ashtray that’s between them before he moves closer, sitting in front of Eddie, who sits up straight. Their knees touch when Steve crosses his legs, and they both pause, just looking at each other quietly.

“Okay?” Eddie whispers. Steve nods.

They pause again, and it’s awkward, and then they’re both giggling, quiet and muffled like they’re children at a sleepover, staying up past their bedtime.

And then they’re leaning in, and Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, and their smiling lips press together.

Steve is so soft.

All of him.

His hair, his face, his lips, his heart.

And he touches Eddie like he’s soft too, like he’s fragile. Steve touches his face, his fingers touching his cheeks before he’s holding them in his palms, tilting his head as his lips part. He tastes like artificial strawberries, and Eddie wants to kiss him until the taste fades.

Slowly, Eddie reaches out to him, finding his waist as Steve’s teeth catch his lower lip, and he pulls at him. Steve lifts onto his knees without pulling away, still kissing Eddie (kissing Eddie), and he holds Eddie’s jaw to tilt his head back, holding him in place. Eddie suppresses a shiver, his body tensing, when Steve’s tongue slips across his lower lip.

Steve pulls back, and Eddie tries to follow, exhaling as he lifts his chin. He opens his eyes blearily, looking up at him. His eyes are glassy, shining as he looks at Eddie, as he caresses his face, and a moment later, his lips spread into a slow smile. Eddie smiles weakly, hands holding Steve’s soft waist.

Steve leans back down and kisses him again, sliding a hand up into his hair to hold the back of his head, and Eddie exhales roughly, his hands tightening on Steve’s waist and pulling him closer. Steve pulls away to look down as he reaches down and pulls at Eddie’s leg so he straightens them out so Steve can crawl into his lap, straddling his hips. He’s heavy on Eddie’s legs, and Eddie lets out a soft groan, wrapping his arms around his waist as Steve kisses him again.

He lets Steve lick his mouth open, gathering the fabric of Steve’s shirt in his hands. He’s probably wrinkling it, but Steve doesn’t stop him. His breath is warm, and Eddie’s never felt so… peaceful. The room is nearly silent except for the soft, slick sounds of their lips and the breathy hums they can’t hold back, but Eddie doesn’t mind the quiet now. He pulls Steve closer, sliding a hand up his back and smiling when Steve shivers. And then Eddie shivers when Steve’s fingertips dance over his throat lightly. It tickles, but in a way that sends chills down his spine. Steve grins, biting Eddie’s lip again before he sucks on it gently.

Eddie hums, and Steve wraps his arms around his neck, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, and his lips curve into a smile against Eddie’s when Eddie presses a hand into the small of his back. Eddie moves slowly, carefully, gently, shifting so he’s kneeling and opening his eyes just enough to glance past Steve at the dresser as he turns slowly. Steve’s legs wrap around his hips as he leans over, lowering Steve onto his back.

Steve hums softly, holding Eddie’s neck as their tongues slide, and when Eddie lifts his head, they’re both breathless, panting into each other’s mouths, smiling and smiling and smiling.

“Do you still feel dirty?” Eddie whispers quietly. Steve’s hair is splayed around his head on the ground like a halo, and his face is relaxed, blissful, beautiful.

“No,” Steve breathes.

“How do you feel?” Eddie murmurs against his lips before he kisses him slowly. Steve’s fingers run through his hair as he kisses his cheek, then his jaw, then his neck, just under his ear, his lips pressing slowly, lingering. He reaches down and slips his fingers under the hem of Steve’s shirt, pressing into his skin. It’s so soft. And warm.

“...Beautiful.”

Eddie smiles. He slides his hand farther under the shirt, lifting his head to watch Steve’s expression just in case, but Steve just smiles and tilts his head back, baring his throat. Eddie kisses it.

They undress. Slowly, softly. Steve’s shirt goes first because Eddie can’t keep his hands off him, pressing under the fabric to press into his skin, and then after it’s tossed aside, Steve is tugging at Eddie’s sweatshirt wordlessly. Eddie sits up, kneeling between Steve’s legs as he tugs it over his head, Steve watches, his eyes glassy and flicking back and forth between Eddie’s face and his torso. He sits up a little, propping himself up on his elbow as he reaches for Eddie’s chest, brushing his fingertips over his tattoos. The spider and the zombie, the letters inked over his ribs that he did himself, late at night in his room with headphones on and a needle between his fingers. The words no one has ever seen before. Not even Wayne.

The letters are faded, the ink spotty and uneven, and probably a little crooked, slanted, wobbly like a child’s handwriting, reading THE URGE TO followed by two words, one atop the other.

CREATE DESTROY

Steve touches them tenderly, and he pushes Eddie so he leans back as he tilts his head and leans close enough to kiss the letters softly. Eddie smiles.

Steve’s hands are warm as they run over Eddie’s stomach, over his waist and chest, and Eddie feels beautiful, too, now. He’s never felt beautiful before.

He runs his own hands over Steve’s chest as they kiss again, tilting his head to lick into his mouth, sighing as Steve reaches up to push his hair back again. And Steve lowers back onto the floor again, his hands gentle as they pull Eddie down with him, and Eddie thinks he would go anywhere if Steve was the one pulling him along. Through the depths of hell. Off the edge of the earth.

He holds himself up on his elbow next to Steve’s head, and he can push his fingers through Steve’s hair without moving, so he does. It’s soft, and smooth, and Eddie loves it. Steve’s legs wrap around Eddie’s hips again, pulling him against himself, and then they’re both gasping and giggling into each other’s mouths, because they’re both hard, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do. He presses down against him again, and a soft, desperate noise escapes Steve’s throat as his hand tightens in Eddie’s hair.

Steve reaches for the drawstring of Eddie’s sweatpants. Eddie reaches for the button of his jeans.

They’re both breathing hard as they shed their pants, their faces close like they can’t stand to be apart, and Eddie presses his face into Steve’s neck as they toss them aside, followed quickly by their underwear, and Steve’s fingers press into his hair, holding the back of his head and Eddie gently pushes him back to the floor. And his whole body is so warm, covered in soft hair and moles that Eddie wants to trace. He wants to connect them all, with his fingertips, or with his tongue. Steve’s skin is tanner than Eddie’s, especially in the quiet glow of the lamps, and when Eddie glances down at their bodies pressed together, they look like silver and gold, and Eddie decides that are beautiful. Separately, and together.

Eddie holds his hand up, and Steve takes it wordlessly, turning his face away from Eddie’s to slide his tongue across his palm slowly, and then his head falls to the ground again as Eddie reaches down. He sounds so pretty as Eddie touches him, letting out soft moans and curses, whispering Eddie’s name like it’s all he knows. He kisses Eddie. Again, and again, and again.

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie, and he buries his face in his neck, and he’s kissing him, kissing him, kissing him, and Eddie is groaning and whining and crying. There’s going to be a mark (or a few) left behind, he already knows, and he already can’t wait to see it in the mirror tomorrow morning. Steve lets out a choked noise when he comes, his back arching, and Eddie keeps crying.

— — — — —

Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, looking up at the ceiling, watching the smoke drift up and fade. Steve’s head is on his chest, and he sighs to blow the smoke out as they finish the joint they abandoned earlier.

Steve shifts to look up at him, lifting the joint to Eddie’s mouth for him, and Eddie smiles, parting his lips for it. Steve lets him take a long drag, and then he leans over him as he pulls the joint away, kissing his lips softly and opening his mouth for Eddie to blow the smoke out, into his lungs. Eddie opens his eyes when Steve pulls away, passing the joint to him as he exhales the smoke slowly.

Steve lays back down as Eddie smokes, his head resting on Eddie’s chest, hand raised to trace the spider that’s in front of his face, his fingertips light as he touches the legs of the spider, running down them slowly and carefully, like he’s worried about scaring it off. Eddie scratches at his scalp gently, combing his hair.

He can hear Steve’s heartbeat. Soft, and slow, and sleepy.

They got dressed after cleaning each other up quietly, pressing kisses to each other’s skin. Steve out on Eddie’s sweatshirt as Eddie was putting on his sweatpants, and Eddie just smiled, watching him shake his hair out of his face.

Their legs twist under the blankets, and Steve sighs again, sliding his hands over Eddie’s chest gently. Eddie knows without looking that his eyes are closed, and he shifts, tapping the joint out in the ashtray and then flicking off the lamp. The room goes dark except the sliver of moonlight coming through the small window across the room and the softly glowing end of the joint.

“I still feel beautiful,” Steve whispers as Eddie closes his eyes. Eddie moves down to wrap his arms around him, and he kisses his temple.

“Good.”

[rogueddie]

When Steve wakes up, he is very confused. His room looks very different and unfamiliar- but he knows it's his. It still has the plaid wallpaper his mom had picked out for him (he hadn't liked it, but there was a lot of lines and pretty colors).

The toy car his babysitter, Sarah, had gotten him for his fifth birthday isn't on his dresser anymore. He knows that she'd left it there for him last night, playfully insisting that he couldn't play with it until his actual birthday.

He'd been so excited to play with it. He wants to cry, and wail. He wants to run to his parents and scream until they give it back.

But they aren't home. That's why his babysitter had been over the previous night. They have a very important business trip that they aren't allowed to miss, not even for Steve's birthday.

The pictures in the hall look different too. Sarah had put up some cool pictures for him. She'd done the same for his fourth birthday. They had to take them down at the end of the day, but it had been nice to have family pictures up. Even if it was just for a day.

Sarah isn't downstairs.

He almost does scream this time. She'd promised that she'd stay the night, sleeping on the sofa, so he could have pancakes for breakfast. It's one of the many things that he can't, or isn't allowed, to make on his own.

His cake isn't in the fridge either. He even pulls a chair over so he can climb on it, to see if she'd hidden it on one of the higher shelves.

He sits on one of the dining chairs, watching the clock, and waiting.

After two hours pass, he gives up any hope he has.

Sarah, just like his parents, is probably too busy for him. He reasons that she probably just forgot to tell him. His mom had done that one time- it had stung, but he couldn't blame her. He forgot lots of stuff, even if it is important.

The only cereal in the pantry is some plain, corn brand that he doesn't recognise. It tastes just as bad as it looks, but there isn't a lot of food anymore.

At least, not a lot that he can make.

He has a second bowl, putting a few spoons of sugar in. It's not much better, but he doesn't feel so hungry anymore.

The TV looks different too. There's weird and new things playing. It's fun, interesting, and distracts him well enough that he's able to keep himself from worrying about how long he'll have to be alone again.

The next day goes the same.

The third day, he risks cooking. It ends up a little burnt, but it's better than cereal all the time.

The fourth day, he can't eat the food he tries to cook. It smells too nasty. He has to have cereal again. The sugar helps.

The fifth day, he doesn't risk cooking. His parents have never left him alone, without a babysitter, for more than a week, so he'll have a nice meal soon.

The sixth day, he checks their voicemail. There's a few odd messages from grown up sounding people, asking about how he's feeling, but he doesn't recognise any of their voices. He doesn't know what numbers he should try calling. He hopes they try calling again.

The seventh day, he sits at the bottom of the stairs. He stares at the front door, ready to jump up and give his mom and dad a warm welcome home.

The eighth day, he's starting to worry. Surely his parents will remember to call a different babysitter?

The ninth day, there's a key in the door. He almost misses it, sat in the kitchen, glaring at his cereal.

"Steve!" Someone calls. It sounds like one of the nice, unfamiliar grown ups who left a voicemail message. "Stevie! You here? How are- oh my god."

"Hi," Steve greets. He waves, tries giving his most polite smile. He almost forgets to keep his lips shut- his dad told him that his teeth don't look nice enough for a grin that big yet. "You're one of the nice people who left me a message, right?"

She stares at him for a long moment, mouth hanging open. "Steve?"

"That's me! What's your name?"

"Robin."

He sticks a hand out to her. "I's nice to meet you Miss Robin!"

"Yeah," she replies, voice high and thin. Her hand is trembling when she gently shakes his hand. "I'm... gonna need to use your phone. Real quick, ok?"

"Um... ok. But you can't make long distance calls, mommy will be very mad at me." He bites his thumb nail, following her into the hall. "Are you a babysitter? Is Sarah sick?"

"Sarah?" Robin echoes, questioningly. She's only half paying attention though, pushing in a phone number.

"My babysitter. She was supposed to be here for my birthday."

"It's your birthday?" She chokes out, spinning around so fast she stumbles. She looks heartbroken.

"Not anymore! It's ok, you don't need to be sad. She gave me my present early too, so it was good."

"Wait. How long have you been... what have you been eating?"

"Um. Cereal, mostly. All the food is different. It's weird."

"That's not- oh, hi," she turns away slightly, talking to whoever is on the phone. "Yeah, I'm at Steve's right now. Gather, like, everyone. We have a major emergency."

"No!" Steve quickly says. He tugs at the bottom of her top. "Not an emergency! You can't say that, you'll get me in trouble!"

"You don't understand, this is-"

"No, please," he pleads. He can only hope he won't get in trouble for talking back to her. "I'm sorry."

"Ok, ok, alright," she agrees. She pauses for a second, listening. "No, that was Steve. Yeah, exactly, that's why-"

"Tell them it isn't an emergency. Please. If dad hears, I'll be in big trouble."

"Ok, big guy. It's not an emergency. Just... yeah, do that. Yeah. Alright. No, I'll be fine. I can deal with it. Ok, see you soon."

She hangs up with a sigh, turning to look at him. She still looks sad.

"Are you ok, Miss Robin?"

Her laugh sounds strained, but she laughs. "I'm alright. How are you?"

"I'm ok. Do you know when mommy and daddy will be back?"

"I don't. I'm sorry, Stevie."

"It's ok. It's only, like... I can't really, uh, cook."

"I can make you something. What's your fave? It was your birthday, you said? Let's get you something special! How old are you?"

He stumbles a little, trying to keep up with her fast talking as well as he long strides. "I'm five. Sarah was going to make me pancakes."

"We can do pancakes." She searches the cupboards and fridge, frowning. "Where is anything?"

"I dunno. I looked but everything is all gone or weird."

"Well... we'll just have to have pancakes later. Special pancakes, for the special birthday boy."

"I guess."

She steps close, putting her hands on her hips as she looks him over. "Are you sure you're five? Did you hit your growth spurt early? You're getting real big."

"I dunno. Mommy says I'm gonna be tall and be a real ladies man, or something."

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Not really. Mommy thinks it's cool though."

"Hm. Are you too big to pick up?"

"Oh, you're not supposed to. Daddy says I'm a big boy now. Big boys don't get picked up."

"Your dad's an asshole."

Steve giggles, quickly covering his mouth with both hands. "You're not supposed to say that! It's a naughty word!"

"Supposed to do this, supposed to do that," she tutts. She leans down, scooping him up into her arms, resting him on her hip. "Your five, stop being so boring!"

Her hand feels so big on his back, like there's no way he could fall with her holding him. She doesn't even seem to mind his hand automatically grabbing the collar of her shirt.

"Daddy doesn't like it when people pick me up."

"What do you like? Hm? Do you want me to put you down?"

"... No."

"Then I'm not putting you down. Daddy isn't here to tell us off, is he? And what he doesn't know, can't hurt him."

She bounces him a few times, making him giggle. Judging by her satisfied grin, that was her aim.

It confuses him, a little. Mostly because she keeps doing that- little things, little comments, trying to make him laugh. Trying to make him smile. Even just listening to him talk about things. Little things. Silly things. Like she isn't annoyed when he goes on, and on, and on.

By the time another person comes in, he's decided that she's the best person in the whole wide world. If she puts him down or tries to leave, he's going to throw a tantrum.

He knows it's bad, but he doesn't want her to leave too. She's cool.

"Oh, God. Robin, please tell me that the baby isn't Steve."

"He's five," Robin corrects. "And yes, it's Steve. I checked, it's him."

"What the hell happened to him?"

"I don't know, I called you!"

"Is something wrong with me?" Steve asks, voice quiet and timid.

"No!" Robin quickly tries to say, at the same time the man says, "yes, obviously."

"Dustin!" Robin scolds.

"What? Lying to him won't help!"

"Neither will being a dick about it!" She tutts at him, adjusting Steve in her arms when she looks to him. "It's nothing, like, bad. It's just kinda weird. See, when we saw you, a week ago... you were a little bit older than me. And now you're five."

Steve stares at her for a moment. She looks too serious, too honest.

"Weird," he says.

"Exactly," she agrees. "From what you've said, though, it's not that bad. You're still you, and you're healthy. You're just... not so big."

"Maybe El can fix him," Dustin mutters, squinting at Steve. He leans close. "When did this happen?"

"He's been like this for a week," Robin tells him. Her voice is quiet, almost scared- it doesn't help that Dustin looks horrified too. "At least."

"Who's been taking care of him?"

"No one."

"What the hell," Dustin turns his frown on Steve. "Why didn't you call anyone?"

"Not supposed to unless it's a real emergency," Steve says. "Mommy says she has a repo... rep... rep-yuh-tay-shun. It's a big thing."

Dustin looks heartbroken, turning to Robin, who shrugs back at him. He groans after a pause, frowning at Robin. "Shit. You can't drive."

"Oh, shit."

"I'll call Eddie," Dustin sighs, already heading to the hall.

"Who's Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Eddie's a friend. He looks a little scary, but don't worry. He's a big softie, an absolute teddy bear." She leans close, whispering loudly with a grin. "Don't tell him I told you, though. He likes to pretend that he's all tough and mean."

"And he's... not mean?"

"Not a cruel bone in his body."

"Ok," he bites at his thumb, frowning when Robin gently pulls his hand out his mouth. "You won't leave though, right?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You gotta promise, though! Pinky Promise!" He lifts a hand, sticking his pinky up- Robin almost immediately wraps her own around his.

"I promise I won't leave you. Who knows what could happen if I leave you alone with the gremlins." She pretends to shudder. "Oh, the horrors.."

"He'll be here in five minutes," Dustin announces.

"That's... quick."

"Yeah. I barely got out 'Steve is in trouble' before he hung up."

"Maybe don't start like that next time," Robin rolls her eyes. She adjusts Steve again, trying to sit him higher on her hip. "He's probably breaking at least, like, five speeding laws or something."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Whatever." She huffs. "Jesus. Steve, bud, I might need to put you down for a sec."

"Oh... um... do you have to?"

"My arms are really starting to hurt, bud," she says. She looks as upset at the idea as he feels. "Maybe we could sit down together. Would that be a good compromise?"

"Yeah!" He grins. "What's a comp- compa-"

"Com-pruh-mise." She says it slowly, careful to sound it out, as she sits down on the sofa. She pulls Steve around so he's sat on her knees, facing her. She keeps one hand on his back, supporting him.

"Com-pa-mise," Steve repeats.

"Oh, that was great!" Robin encourages, laughing at how big and excited Steves responding grin is. "Well, compromise is when..."

Robin is so patient with him, taking her time with him, making sure he understands what she's saying- before easily jumping onto whatever tangent he brings up.

It feels like only a few minutes have passed by the time the doorbell rings. Dustin stands to answer- Steve had completely forgotten he was there the whole time, too caught up in his conversation with Robin.

He doesn't come back for a moment. Steve can hear muttering, straining to hear what they're saying, but the living room doors shut.

A man follows him inside. He's tall, with long hair and dark clothes. He looks different to anyone Steve has ever seen before. He looks scary.

"Oh god," he mumbles, frowning at Steve. "You're not joking."

Steve tugs at Robins sleeve, leaning close to her, whispering, "who's that?"

"Oh, right!" Robin groans when she stands, lifting Steve with her. "Steve, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Steve."

"This is Steve," Eddie repeats. "Jesus Christ."

"Why do you look so scary?" Steve blurts out. He slaps a hand over his mouth, horrified.

But Eddie just laughs. "Damn, Stevie, tell me what you really think."

"You do!" Steve snaps, face warming. "All the black and chains and stuff."

"Robin is wearing 'black and chains and stuff'."

"Yeah, but Robins cool."

"You wound me," Eddie gasps, slapping a hand to his chest. "I'm totally cooler than Robin."

"Nope," Robin quickly cuts in. "Steve said I'm cool, not you. It's been said, declared- no, decreed! Facts are facts, Eds, suck on it!"

"Ew," Steve and Eddie say in sync, grimacing.

"Alright," Dustin interrupts, hands on his hips. "You're introduced, now can we go? Now?"

Part two

[mx-jinxous]

He was in love with a dead man.

Steve found it ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. When he was forced to find a job after his parents disowned him, the museum was the last place he’d expected to fall in love. The museum gift shop had gladly taken him in as a thank you for his family’s namesake, though Steve didn’t try to pretend interested in the way. He took the job offer, anything to pay the bills.

His current living arrangement was his car until he could save enough money back to get an apartment. Sadly with his car payment and insurance, it hardly left anything to put back, not enough to pay his phone bill for the last few months. Most days it was a toss-up for gas or food, which was going to be a harder decision with the approaching winter. Since he had to drop out of college he’d been left sneaking into the community pool to even get a shower, but soon he’d have to find other options. They started to dwindle as his friends, or rather the people who acted as such, distanced themselves when he was kicked out. He came from money and that’s all that anyone ever wanted.

His first idea was to befriend or date, but he couldn’t use them as people did to him. So he asked for more work, playing it off as expanding his knowledge and role. This led him to partner with the elderly security, who was fondly nicknamed Grey, until they could get him a trainee. Steve happily accepted it. The old man was a storyteller, even his lectures were entertaining as he drifted into stories of his kids. He often let him wander around, and that’s how he found the newest addition to the royalty wing.

They had discovered an underground burial vault, hidden beneath the remains of a castle converted into a long abandoned church. It was above Steve’s pay grade how they ever managed to acquire permission to excavate the vault. One night on his explorations the young man found the exhibit and the statue of King Kas. He ruled in the 1200 c.e., a just ruler in a conflicted era. Sadly, he existed during a blip in history, and few records have been found of his rule.

Still, the statue was handsome and mesmerizing. It was carved from marble and well cared for regardless of facing time. Surprisingly for a cold material, the eyes were warm, inviting even. It’s what kept Steve returning, making him fall. Grey had found him sometimes just talking to Kas about his problems when he came to let him out for the night. He was kind enough to offer an invite to his home whenever he needed, fatherly. He’s what he’d wished his parents were like, he cared for a boy he didn’t even know and even fed him when he didn’t have food. It was nice but also painful.

Steve spent every shift studying the statue. The king was adorned in jewelry; rings, a crown, necklaces, armlets, and bracelets filled with gemstones worth more than Steve’s parents. It only enhanced the beauty of the masterpiece, but it was truly the eyes that pulled him in. Maybe it was the dry spell in his current living situation, but he wanted to reach out and hold his face in his hands. His body was doing that on its own accord, his fingers nearly brushing its cheek when the hallway door was thrown open. Steve responded immediately, hiding behind the nearest pillar. His mind caught up with him once he was out of sight, that he and Grey were the only ones this late, still didn’t want to be caught with his hand on the exhibit.

Taking a calming breath, he stepped out and was going to give him a hard time about the scare. However, he froze when he heard more than one voice, harsh whispers echoing in the unoccupied room. Steve pressed up against the pillar, trying to be silent, trying to figure out how to alert Grey without his walkie.

So he stood there, listening to things being moved, metal clinging. “This is a goldmine. Can’t believe these idiots left it open like this, just ripe for the takin’.” A man cackled, the young man risking it to get a look at the thieves. Three of them, one stripping Kas while the other two robbed his riches.

“Shuddup. You want security up our asses?” Another snapped.

“What? That old guy probably ain’t got his hearing aid in.”

“He ain't alone dipshit. He's got that kid in here. Didn’t see him leave.” The last guy grumbled, sounding like he was struggling. “He’s not gonna be a problem. If he tries anything, I’ll show him mister pew pew.” That got Steve sweating. He needed a plan, a distraction to escape. From his vantage point, he noted the doors were close to the men, there were no windows, and the fire escape was a sprint away that gave the thieves an open shot. But the fire alarm was on the wall, parallel to him. Pulling it would alert firefighters and police, and hopefully scare the men enough to give him the opening that he needed. It was as solid as a plan he could make, but of course, he should know that life loved to make him struggle.

It came in the form of a, “Pull harder numb nuts.”, followed by a clatter. Peaking out he was met with the king's bracelet skidding past him. That’s what gave away his safe spot, the men already yelling and sprinting towards him. Steve took off, snatching the bracelet on the way to the fire alarm. He pulled it as he passed, heading towards the nearest exhibit, Pharaohs of Ancient Egypt. There were plenty of places to hide, Steve choosing the curtain that framed a standing sarcophagus.

It was sheered, easy to see through, yet nearly impossible to see in the dark museum. He gripped the bracelet, trying to quiet his breathing when the men came into the room. The alarm lights flashed and blared, however, he could hear things being thrown and smashed. There was angry yelling between the three, Steve watching the best he could through the fabric. He could make out only their silhouettes, watching in horror as they destroyed parts of history, feeling powerless. Was this how it was supposed to end, hunted and afraid? A fitting end to the last shitty months.

All he knows is that he isn’t going down without a fight. The bracelet was a decent weight and could knock someone out with a strong enough swing. He hoped it was enough as the silhouettes grew closer as Steve braced for an attack.

A scream froze the moment, now four shadows appeared on the other side of the curtain. “What the hell!” The man closest to the newcomer howled before he fell, his partner's screams echoing. Gunshots rang out causing a horrified scream to escape the young man. He fell to his knees and curled up, wanting to be as small as he could. Steve couldn’t fathom, nor did he want to attempt, the horrifying noises on the other side. There were screams and then silence.

He could only hope that the perpetrator didn’t find him- but once again life loved to beat him down. The curtain was pulled back, giving him an up-close view of the mystery man. Steve met with those warm eyes that once brought him comfort, now a sign of terror as Kas stood, marble painted in blood. He wanted to beg, to scream, but all that escaped his lips was a whimper. The statue took a step forward and the younger man fell back, trying to push himself as far away from the creature.

Not taking the hint, Kas knelt in front of him, reaching out toward him. He dropped his sword as fingers brushed against Steve’s cheek, causing him to flinch at the cold stone. It was silent between the two, aside from the blaring alarm, leaving them staring at one another. Pulling back his hand, Kas scooped the young man up without warning. A squeak escaped him, fear keeping his mouth bound as he was carried through the blood-drenched room to the king's exhibit. There he was gently sitting on the edge of the stone coffin that had been cracked open to show the interior. The body had been removed before the exhibit had opened so there was no fear of a zombie popping up. Just Steve and Stone Kas.

Steve was balancing himself the best he could while stone eyes studied up and down his body. They stopped on the bracelet still gripped in his hands, causing him to fumble trying to hold it up to the marble man.

“H-Here! I-I didn’t mean to take it, but I kept it safe. See, no damage.” He shook as the statue took the bracelet, examining it closely. Steve sat there, just waiting until Kas saw fit that the bracelet was fine. He hesitated with any noise or movement, not wanting to earn the creature's ire. He wished to disappear, to be locked behind his car doors on the other side of the country, just out of the king's sight.

Unfortunately, that wish quickly broke when Kas wrapped his hand gently around Steve’s upper arm. He watched in horror and confusion as the bracelet slid onto his wrist, giving the man his first clear look at the jewelry. It was a thick gold band with some basic designs carved in it, a bright red gem enclosed in it. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, even Kas seemed to think so as a smile came to the carved face.

“Yeah, i-it’s a lovely piece, but sadly I’m not a jewelry guy.” His nervous chuckle was cut short when the smile fell, his body tensing as it was just them in silence once more. “Please-.” He whimpered.

A sob broke free when Kas leaned in, his cold lips pressing into his forehead. “Te videre iterum, amica mea.” He whispered, pulling back enough to peer down into Steve’s eyes. Without warning he was shoved back into the coffin, the lid pulled over without a struggle.

“Shit.” He mumbled, trying to push the stone lid off to no avail. “Shit! No, no, shit!” He screamed, pounding against the marble. Panicked tears dripped down his cheeks as he kept trying to push to top off. “I- I ca-. I can’t breathe! Please let me out! Please Kas!”

There was no telling how long he was screaming for, but no one came to his rescue. The fight left him abruptly as the situation set in. He was stuck in a stone prison, running out of air, no one knowing where he went. No one would notice him missing until much later after he suffocated. This was how he was going to die, as a nobody.

Steve went to cover his face, only to be splashed with water. He sat there, horrified at the thought that he was bleeding, but no. His body was sitting in water, the coffin filling at a ridiculous rate. He no longer had to wait to suffocate, now he was going to drown long before that.

A new panicked fueled fire filled his stomach, his legs coming up to kick at the lid. He figured if water was getting in, there was a chance he wasn’t completely sealed in. His head was underwater while he kicked with all his might. Soon it started sliding with each kick, giving way to enough space for his body to squeeze through. He wasted no time, the water weighing him down as he pulled himself free.

It was dark aside from a flickering archway, his body freezing as he took a minute to catch his breath. He could tell he was no longer in the museum, the only light seeming to be the only exit. A groan escaped Steve’s lips as he pulled himself towards the light, coming to a spiral staircase that only went up. It was illuminated by torches on the wall, the only warmth in this dark room. Freedom was near, and though his body wanted to give in to rest, Steve pressed on. His body ached, each step taken with a struggling limp that made the trip feel like hours.

He nearly cried when he saw the doorway, a light illuminating the stairs. He was ready for bed, or maybe he’d try to hit Grey up for a shower to get all the death dust off of him. If he was lucky, this was all a horny-induced nightmare.

That came to head when the universe decided to remind him once more of his shit luck. When he walked out of the doorway he was greeted with a group of swords pointed at him, surrounding him. His body was aching, fighting to stay standing as another wave of armored people came in. Trying to take a step back Steve’s body gave out, a mumbled “Fucking bullshit.”, escaping before he hit the ground. His world went dark once more.

[steddiewithachance]

"You Should Date My Nephew"

"433-6296". Wayne mouthes to himself. He visualizes the little slip of lined paper that's taped to the wall above their phone at home. 433-6296. He could call. But he wont.

Wayne grunts as he lowers himself to sit on the curb outside the plant. He got off work --he pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch-- 36 minutes ago. It's 3:36 am and god dammit Eddie how many times did he remind the kid to set his alarm. How many times did Wayne remind Eddie that his truck was in the shop and that he'd need a ride home in the morning. And every single time he'd mention it, Eddie responded "I got it old man! I'll set an alarm" with an exasperated eye roll and would go back to whatever he was doing. Wayne has tried calling the trailer a dozen times already and damn that boy for being such a heavy sleeper.

433-6296. Wayne could probably solve his problem with a single call, but that would be completely inconsiderate and borderline inappropriate, so he wont. A gust of cold November wind hits Wayne unforgivingly in the face and makes his eyes water. He pulls a pack of camels from his chest pocket and with stiff, shaky hands, lights one. 433-6296. He could call or he could walk home. The walk wasn't easy in ideal weather when Wayne was fully rested. Right now it was freezing, Wayne didn't have his good jacket, and he just finished an eight hour shift. 433-6296. Fuck it.

Wayne stands up and hurries toward the phone before he can talk himself out of this. It's insane, and he knows the poor kid barely sleeps as it is. Knows from Eddie that he'll pick up the phone anytime Eddie has a nightmare and drive over to talk him out of the bad dream, keep him company, or fall asleep on the floor of Eddie's bedroom so his nephew doesn't have to go back to sleep alone in a haunted trailer. 433-6296 Wayne dials and waits with baited breath.

The phone rings a handful of times before a quiet voice greets him on the other side of the line.

"H'llo? Eds?"

"Uh hi Steve. It's Wayne?" Wayne says quietly into the phone. Steve seems to sober immediately.

"Mr. Munson? Is everything okay? Is Eddie okay?"

"Yeah no everythin's fine. I'm sure Eddie's safe and sound at home. Look, I'm real sorry to wake you, kid, and I'm sorry to even be askin' you in the first place. I know it's mighty unfair of me to call at this time but uh- My trucks in the shop and Eddie was supposed to pick me up from work forty minutes ago but I think he mighta slept through his alarm. And it's too far for an old man like me to walk. Was wondering if I might owe you a helluva favor if you could pick me up tonight, son." For a few moments there is silence. Wayne worries he has crossed a line, for a brief moment he fears he might have burnt the most important bridge in Eddie's life. He's immediately regretting waking Steve up for this. Worries Steve'll hang up and neither of them will hear from him again.

But then he hears the distinct rustling and thump of someone putting on shoes.

"Of course Mr. Munson, I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I can." And Wayne is once again floored by this kid's kindness.

"Steve, thank you. I owe you son. Whatever you need."

"It's no problem! I'll see you soon."

"See you." Wayne mutters in disbelief and hangs up the phone.

And to think... Wayne used to hate Steve. The thing about Steve Harrington is that his name is haunted, in a way. And the thing about Wayne Munson is that he's a stubborn son of a bitch who will hold grudges on Eddie's behalf longer than the kid himself will. There were countless days in high school when instead of shooting through the front door of the trailer after school with a devilish smile and music blasting from his headphones, Eddie would turn the knob slowly and he'd drag himself into the trailer, giving Wayne a small nod before disappearing into his room quietly. Wayne felt like crying or punching something when Eddie came home in low spirits. He knew how evil the kids at school could be, and he knew the names of all the bad ones. Wayne always gave Eddie 10 minutes of quiet before he'd knock on his door and gently ask if he wanted to talk. It was a routine they had. He'd ask and Eddie would say no. But then like clockwork, Eddie would open up about his day later in the evening usually while they ate dinner and before Wayne left for work. He'd complain about all the kids that made him feel bad: Hagan, Harrington, Perkins, Hargrove, Carver, and so many more.

So imagine Wayne's surprise on March 27, 1986 when he briefly left Eddie's hospital room to get coffee and returned to Steve Harrington, the bully son of Richard and Nicole, sitting next to his nephew's hospital bed. It had been a long week of worrying on Wayne's part, and an emotional 48 hours spent at Eddie's bedside, so Wayne had very little patience for whatever was happening in front of him. In retrospect, Steve Harrington was looking at Eddie... sweet and tenderly, even back then. But in the moment all he could think about was Eddie returning from school with hunched shoulders and his head hung low.

"The hell are you doing here?" Wayne asked using his gruffest and most intimidating voice, arms crossed, standing in the doorway. The way that Steve startled was like nothing like Wayne had ever seen. He jumped a foot into the air and folded into himself.

"Oh! Mr. Munson. I'm sorry I didn't know you were around. Just, uh, didn't want him to be alone in case he woke up." Steve had said rising from his seat. When Wayne didn't budge from the doorway or respond, Steve nervously fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.

"How do you know Eddie?" Wayne asked trying to keep his firm tone.

"From high school sir. But also through a mutual friend. Dustin Henderson? They play DND together. Dustin and I brought him in after we found him like this..." Steve lifted his head again gauging Wayne's still stern expression and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to interrupt anything I'll get out of your hair."

And Wayne wanted to be skeptical of Steve, wanted to accuse him of doing this to Eddie, but the truth is that Steve sounded painfully earnest. And there's no human explanation for the tiny bite marks all over Eddie's body. Wayne stepped out of the doorway and let Steve take a few steps down the hallway before calling out to him.

"Hey, Harrington?" Steve turned around quickly, looking back with a startled expression, maybe surprised that Wayne knew his name at all. "D'ja see what happened? I mean d'ya know anythin about what hurt him?" Wayne asked more softly. Steve looked around the crowded hallway, with nurses buzzing from door to door. Steve shook his head slightly, apologized, and continued down the hallway.

But Steve didn't stay out of his hair for long. The kid was exasperatingly persistent in being around for Eddie. And while Wayne kept a watchful eye on him, he was starting to get the idea that Steve Harrington was not who Wayne thought he was. He cooked for, cleaned after, and tended to Eddie, asking for nothing in return. Often refusing to stay for dinner when Wayne was home, even if he was the one who cooked it, because he didn't want to interrupt family time. If he brought food from out he always brought something for Wayne, and never took the money Wayne tried to push into his hands for it.

"Here, Mr. Munson. I wasn't sure what you wanted from the diner, but Eddie said you're not picky so I brought you a burger and fries." Steve had said that first time, holding out a bag in front of him.

"You brought me food?" Wayne asked perplexed.

"Well yeah, of course. I wouldn't have shown up with dinner for just me and Eddie." Steve set Wayne's bag on the counter when he made no move to take it.

By now Steve knew Wayne and Eddie's order at pretty much every food place in Hawkins and Wayne and Eddie were getting real creative at finding ways to slip money into Steve's wallet.

On top of that, almost every other day, Wayne gets home from work to find a maroon bmw parked outside his place while Steve helps Eddie through bad dreams. So what could Wayne be, besides grateful, for Steve Harrington's slightly confusing devotion to his kid?

He's snapped out of his thoughts when said maroon bmw pulls up in front of him. Steve is wearing a pair of wired glasses and his hair is all ruffled from sleep. Wayne opens the passenger door.

"You were waiting for forty minutes in the cold? Why didn't you call sooner?" Steve asked pushing up his glasses as Wayne closes the door quickly. And well... Wayne doesn't know how to respond to that.

"I- I shouldn'ta had to call you in the first place, Steve. I'm real sorry" Wayne says as Steve pulls the car out of park and starts driving back towards the trailer park. Wayne glances over at Steve waiting for the kid to say something. They sit in heavy silence until Steve breaks it by clearing his throat.

"Just... I know you're probably mad at Eddie but- but don't yell at him. He's barely sleeping so he really just needs the rest. It's not his fault." Steve ends on a whisper.

A tidal wave of different emotions rip through Wayne. Affection for Steve's caring nature, immense gratitude that Eddie has someone like Steve in his life, disbelief that Steve would say something like that after being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. Wayne was sitting and staring at the most selfless kid he'd ever met. Steve fucking Harrington.

"You should date my nephew."

Steves eyes widen and the car swerves.

"Uh- s-sorry- what?" Steve stammers.

"If I could choose someone for him, the best option out there, I'd choose you." Wayne says honestly, and he didn't even know he'd been thinking it until this moment. But it's so true. After so many heartbreaks over truly terrible men that Wayne could never see the appeal of, Eddie deserves someone like Steve. Steve face softens before checking to make sure Wayne was being sincere. Steve cracks a smile and chuckles to himself.

"What, you think I'm jokin'?" Wayne asks defensively.

"No sir! Not at all. It's just Eddie and I have been dating for months already. BUT- but- thank you for saying that! It means so much to me and truly Eddie's the best thing-"

"You- what?" Suddenly Wayne is embarrassed. Blushing. How'd he... how'd he miss that? And well, he did have a few moments where he thought the two of them were awfully close for a pair of young men, at least one of which who was openly queer, but they'd been through a lot together.

"Why did no one tell me?" Wayne asks turning his face away from Steve who is desperately fighting a huge grin and losing.

"We thought you knew. We sleep in the same bed every night."

"You do what now? Thought you were sleepin' on the floor" Wayne knows he sounds like the protective dad of a teenage girl and not the uncle to an adult man, but his world was just turned sideways. Steve laughs at that and adjusts his glasses before stopping at the red traffic light which almost immediately turns green because no one is out at this hour.

"Oh well. Good, I'm glad then." Wayne says after his mind has stopped spinning. "And call me Wayne already, you basically live at my house." He punches Steve lightly in the shoulder.

"Okay." Steve agrees quietly. He pulls into Forest Hills and stops the car in front of the trailer. "Mind if I just check to make sure he's okay before I leave? For peace of mind?" Wayne opens the door and steps out.

"Oh so now you're playing coy about sharing a bed? Just sleep here, kid" Wayne closes the door and heads towards the house. Steve jogs a little to catch up. When they open the door, the sound of an obnoxious alarm comes pouring out from the back of the trailer which concerns both of them. But when Steve hurries to Eddie's room he sees that the idiot had fallen asleep with music blasting in his headphones. Wayne stops the alarm as Steve gently tries to remove the headphones from his ears pausing the tape inside.

Eddie suddenly stirs and blinks up at Wayne and Steve looking down at him.

"'S going on?" He croaks, rubbing his eyes. Wayne and Steve share a look before Wayne chuckles and pats Steve on the back once before thanking him and wishing him a good night on the way out. After the door closes behind Wayne, Eddie looks back up at Steve. "What's going on baby? What happened?"

Steve slips into the bed and scoffs, fondly. He curls around Eddie and pulls him into his chest. Once they've settled, Steve pushes his fingers through Eddie's until they're all intertwined.

"Did you forget something, Bambi? Was there someone you had to pick up from work at 3 in the morning?" Steve whispers into his neck. Suddenly Eddie shoots up and dislodges Steve where he was leaning against him. Steve groans.

"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit"

"Eddie it's okay c'mere. He's home now, it's all good babe." But Eddie just stares at the wall and pulls a hand through his hair. "No one is mad, just come back here. Let's sleep." And Eddie hesitantly lies back down.

"Did Uncle Wayne have to call you? I'm so fucking sorry Stevie." Eddie asks, sounding embarrassed.

"We had a nice conversation on the way home so it all worked out. You're okay. Sleeeeep."

And right before they both fall asleep, Eddie whispers, "Thanks Stevie, love you."

[chocoarts]

those damn mosquitos out and aboutttt

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve’s parents are in a cult and sacrifice him for their own gains. Yall can thank @whoevenknowsdude for giving me the motivation not to give up on this version.

The party was going on as usual. Steve had been to many of them before. The earliest he remembered was being five and led around by his mother’s hand, then eventually being handed off to a nanny for the rest of the evening. It was always some sort of parade. As a young child, he was the cute baby version of his father. Something for the women to coo at.

Around 11 he was a growing lad who was expected to cause a little trouble. Then at 14 he was a young man with a promising future. 

Growing up, there was one part he was always dreading. The point where people tried to set him up with their daughters, or granddaughters, or nieces. He heard pieces of such transactions all the time. 

‘Oh you must meet my daughter.’ 

‘You know Celia is about your age…’ 

‘So have you got a girlfriend?’

Steve caught glimpses of the older boys either politely rebuffing or ending up engaged with someone. This was a very insular crowd, he knew that. Still, he hoped he’d have something resembling a choice when the time came.

And yet, as he got older, no one rushed to introduce him to anyone. It confused him to no end. He had no trouble attracting girls at school and all of his parents’ friends thought he was charming. He came from good stock. Why did no one want him to marry their daughter?

He tried not to feel so offended by it. But it was just so bizarre. 

But back to tonight. It was going like it always did. Steve spent most of it by his parents’ sides, only occasionally going off on his own. He made nice conversation, had a drink or two, despite being nineteen, and kept the Harrington name good and golden.

As the hour got late though, it got to the point where most of the men split off to have cigars. Steve was usually excused at this point but this time his father put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the next room. He took part in more conversation about his prospects (not going to school but who needed to when he was planning on succeeding his father) and drank some brandy.

“Steve, it’s time we discussed your future”, his father said, letting out a puff of cigar smoke.

“What about it…exactly?”, Steve asked.

“That sometimes we must defer to a higher power.”

“….Right…”

“Steven”, one of the other men started. “You ever take one for the team?”

Keep reading

[demobatman]

a little late but in honor of the one year anniversary of volume 2 i redrew the first drawing i ever posted 😋😋

[steddieas-shegoes]

Headcanon: CC + Steve being very close & friendly. And NOBODY knows what to make of it????? Hjdjdjx bc steve is a normal dude chilling with a world renown metal band

“Can any of you tell us more about Steve? He seems to always be around.”

The guys all looked to Eddie as the interviewer smiled at them, the camera behind her focusing back on the band.

“Steve has been our biggest fan for a long time.”

There. That wasn’t suspicious.

“Not many fans get a chance to go on tour with the band. Or hang out with the band backstage or on the bus everyday. What makes Steve special?”

They’d talked about this before. Not long ago, in fact.

Steve gave him permission to say who he really was if they were asked. The guys agreed this was up to Eddie and Steve.

And something about the way this interviewer was asking made him feel defensive, made him want to explain that Steve wasn’t just a fan.

“Steve’s my partner, and he has been for nearly seven years. He’s more important than any fan, and the guys here love him like a brother at this point so he’s always welcome.”

The interviewer seemed shell shocked.

“Steve’s one of our best friends, and we couldn’t do this without him,” Jeff added before turning to check with Eddie that he’d said the right thing.

Eddie nodded at him before continuing.

“He keeps us in line. Makes sure we eat at least two regular meals a day as much as possible, makes us tea for after the show so we don’t get sore throats, keeps fans from being a bit too much.”

“Steve does all this?”

“And more.”

“And you all like having him around?”

“Yeah! He makes homemade soup when we’re sick and buys us new clothes when we try to keep torn up ones,” Gareth replied.

“He lets us dance with him during sound check even though nothing we perform is for dancing,” Jeff added.

“He’s honest about our music,” Grant supplied.

“And he loves me a whole lot. Wouldn’t be here with you him,” Eddie provided.