For @steddie-week day 2, prompts "hands" and "touch starved".
Title from an unreleased Noah Kahan song.
Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Rating: T
W/C: 1916
C/W: Referenced death of a grandparent.
Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, Steve is touched-starved, Steve has bad parents, platonic soulmates Steve and Robin, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart
Summary: Steve's early life is mostly devoid of love - until Eddie Munson.
___
He’s eight years old, and his wrist is broken.
It’s the first time he’s broken a bone, but it certainly won’t be the last.
Steve cries silently in the school nurse’s room. His father hated it when he cried, always told him to man up, to grow up, to act like a Harrington.
He tried to keep the tears in, he really did, but his arm is throbbing and his wrist is turning a funny colour and he wishes he’d taken Tommy up on his offer to sit with him and wait for his mom to turn up but he’d wanted to be tough, tough like his dad, and he’d told him he wasn’t a baby and he’d be fine.
So, while he loses the battle against the tears cascading down his cheeks, he stays tight-lipped and quiet.
His mom arrives eventually. Steve sits there, clutching his wrist across his stomach as the nurse explains to Janet Harrington what had happened, that Steve had fallen in P.E, that the bone was definitely broken and he needed to go straight to urgent care.
Janet nods. Turns to Steve, expression tight and unreadable, and gestures quickly for him to follow her out to the car.
Steve quickens his pace behind her, little legs carrying him along behind the click-clack of her heels.
He reaches for her hand with his good one.
Knows he shouldn’t, knows he isn’t supposed to keep trying to touch because he’s a big boy now, he doesn’t need to be held and coddled anymore.
But he’s hurting, and he wants his mom.
She tightens her hand around his almost in surprise, squeezing sharply.
“For goodness’ sake, Steve,” she hisses, dropping his hand again like it’s something bad, “do you want all your friends to see you like this? Act your age.”
Steve snatches his hand back to his side. Blinks through the new flood of tears in his eyes, swallows thickly, keeps his gaze on the hard tiled floor.
He’s eight years old, and his mother doesn’t want to hold his hand.
*****
He’s fourteen years old when his grandma dies.
Smoking with Tommy behind the bike shed at the school, they are quieter than usual.
The funeral is this weekend. Steve’s never been to a funeral before. His mom ordered him a suit the day after they got the news, the reality of it barely sinking in before he was being stood in front of the mirror in the store while a man wrapped a tape around him, taking his measurements while his mom tapped her foot behind him.
He wonders what will happen when his parents go away, now that he can’t go and stay with grandma. He’ll miss her. He’ll miss her like hell.
No more baking, no more helping her plant flowers in her sunny backyard, no more taking slow walks to the park with her little yappy dog.
“Sorry,” Tommy mutters eventually, stomping the butt of his cigarette into the dirt.
“Huh?” Steve asks, not looking up.
“You know. About your grandma.”
“Oh,” Steve waves a hand, cigarette between his fingers. Nonchalant. Unemotional. Harrington. “S’fine, she was just some old lady.”
Tommy sniffs, raises an eyebrow. “It was your grandma, man.”
Steve shrugs, forces a smirk. “Reckon she left me anything in her will?”
He burns as he says it.
He doesn’t want money. Doesn’t want things. He just wants his grandma back.
Tommy snorts out a laugh, shakes his head, punches Steve lightly in the shoulder. “You’re a dick.”
Steve takes a long drag on the cigarette, blows the smoke out towards Tommy’s face. His friend swears and shoulder charges him, wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and the two of them start to wrestle.
Here, with the stench of tobacco on his breath, grunting as he tightens his grip on Tommy and shoves him roughly aside, Steve thinks this is the closest he’s been to a hug for a long time.
A silent tear tracks down his cheek, and Steve wipes it away before Tommy can see it.
He’s fourteen years old, and his best friend would rather punch him than hug him.
*****
He’s seventeen years old and in love with Nancy Wheeler.
Nancy holds his hand, sometimes. She kisses his cheek, smiles shyly when he wraps an arm around her waist, lets him touch.
But only sometimes.
And that’s ok, Steve thinks. He knows he can be too much, that he asks for too much, that ever since he was a little boy all he wanted was for someone to hold him, and now that he’s older, to hold someone in return.
He had to keep that in check. Had to keep his touches few and light – just a brush of his thumb over Nancy’s hand where he wanted to interlock their fingers, where he wanted to squeeze her tight to his chest and burrow his head into her shoulder and turn himself inside out for her.
He dreams about the creature that came out of the wall, sometimes.
Wakes up sweat-drenched with his pulse galloping, feels across the bed for Nancy’s hand because he keeps sneaking into her bedroom at night to sleep because he can’t handle being on his own right now.
She wakes. Holds his hand briefly, tells him it was just a dream, rolls over, lets his hand go. Faces away from him.
Steve tells himself it’s fine. His heart is still pounding, he’s still trembling slightly, but it’s fine.
He wishes Nancy would hold his hand a little longer. Wishes she’d tuck herself closer to him, press her lips to the back of his head, hold him until he’s able to fall asleep again.
But he’s a man now. He’s a Harrington, and he doesn’t need to be held.
Nancy had nightmares sometimes, too.
She’d cry out in her sleep, and Steve would carefully wrap an arm around her, murmur into her ear, tell her she was safe, that he had her.
When Nancy woke, she’d push him away. Tell him she needed to breathe, that she needed some space.
Steve tried to give her space. Tried other ways to try and help Nancy feel better – then came Tina’s party, then came the drink staining Nancy’s top and a cold bathroom and bullshit.
Steve was seventeen years old, and his love was bullshit.
*****
Steve is nineteen years old, and he has the best friend in the entire world.
He and Robin are glued at the hip. She hugs easily, drapes herself across him, nudges him with bony hips and elbows and grabs his hand when the lights at Family Video flicker because she knows that still terrifies him.
Steve’s not used to it.
To having someone reach for him, to pull him into a hug, to voluntarily reach out and touch him like there isn’t something wrong with him.
And so, he never reaches for her first. Always lets her initiate contact, because he never wants to be too much, not like how he was with his mother, with Nancy.
She’s standing next to him at work now. Shuffling through returned tapes, letting out a bored huff, leaning back on her elbows on the counter.
The bell above the Family Video door chimes.
Steve doesn’t look up until Robin pokes him in the ribs, until she waggles her eyebrows at him.
“Look who it is,” she whispers, with zero subtlety.
He doesn’t have to look to know it’s Eddie.
Because they’ve been playing this game for a while, Robin doing her best to bring the two of them together, to nudge them from this painful will-they won’t-they situation into something more serious.
The truth is, Steve’s head over heels for the other man.
And he doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know where to put it, because he doesn’t want to half-ass anything ever again – if he’s going to love Eddie, he wants to do it with everything he has, but everything Steve has always seems to be too much for everyone else.
If he ruins what he and Eddie already have, this easy friendship, it would put a strain on his relationship with the kids too, and everyone had already been through so much, he couldn’t…
“Oh my god, dingus,” Robin groans.
Eddie’s wandered on past the counter after shooting Steve a grin, headed for the sci-fi section tucked away in the corner.
“What?” Steve huffs.
“I can literally see the little cogs turning in there,” Robin flicks her index finger against the side of his head. “For the sake of my sanity, just talk to him. Please.”
“Fine,” Steve harrumphs, tossing a case to one side. “But if this goes badly, I’m blaming you.”
Robin smiles wide, reaches for his hand, squeezes it gently, encouragingly. “Go get him, Stevie.”
Steve is nineteen years old, and he finally has someone to hold his hand, even if not quite in the way he’d been longing for.
*****
Steve is twenty-two years old, and sometimes he’s so overwhelmed by love for this man that it stops him in his tracks.
He’s draped across Eddie, the two of them on the couch with the TV quietly playing something in the background but Steve doesn’t hear it.
His head is on Eddie’s chest, ear pressed to his heart, listening to the soothing rhythm of his boyfriend’s pulse.
Eddie has his arms wrapped tightly around Steve, one hand tracing gently up and down his bare back, fingers tracing over moles and scars and the ridges of his spine.
Steve breathes him in. Presses his head further into Eddie, like he could burrow into him. Wanted to, sometimes.
Eddie’s chest vibrates gently as he chuckles.
“Y’ok there, Stevie?” he asks, and kisses the top of his head.
“Mmmm,” Steve manages, voice muffled by Eddie’s chest.
It had taken him a long time to realize that Eddie wasn’t going anywhere.
In the early days of their relationship, Steve had been…restrained. Muted, afraid to overwhelm the other man, trying to carefully seek out where Eddie’s boundaries were, work out just how long he could hug him for, just how many kisses were too many, when Steve was starting to step over into being too damn much…
Three years later, and he still hadn’t found that boundary.
Eddie took everything Steve had to give him and poured it back tenfold.
He’d smile into Steve’s mouth when he kissed him, run his tongue along the seam of Steve’s lips until he let him in, he’d trace every mole and blemish on his skin with his fingers and then his mouth until Steve was squirming and laughing under him, he’d stroke and hold and squeeze and give and take.
Steve had so much love to give, and Eddie was hungry for it.
They’d been lying here for hours tonight. Skin to skin, Eddie warm and pliant under Steve, humming happily when Steve tightened his hold on him, when Steve’s breath puffed over his collarbone.
“Stevie?” Eddie asks eventually, hand resting in chestnut locks, nails scratching gently over Steve’s scalp.
“Yeah?”
“You ready for bed, sweetheart? You gotta get up early for work.”
Steve sighs, tucks himself back into Eddie’s chest. “Little longer?” he murmurs.
Eddie smiles. Lowers his hand to the back of Steve’s neck, massaging the muscle there, feeling the moment Steve sinks further into him.
“’Course, Stevie. As long as you like.”
Steve is twenty-two years old, and he finally has someone to hold him.
Eddie has a bad habit of picking at his skin when he's nervous. Not, like, shy nervous or stage fright nervous, but the real kind of nervous, not-sure-I’m-gonna-survive-this kind of nervous. Like while he was alone in the boat house, he'd shredded every one of his cuticles. That time Hopper caught him behind The Hawk, very obviously selling his wares, he'd bitten his lips bloody.
Tonight he's picking a scab off his knee. It's practically healed already, so it won't bleed, he just needs to feel something on his body come loose before he does.
“You good, dude?” Steve asks, so in tune to Eddie's nervous disposition. Such a good guy. What a friend.
Eddie lets his head hit his knee caps with a thunk.
“Yup.”
Steve snorts. “You don't look good. I mean… You know what I mean.”
He smiles, tilting his head to look at Steve, always happy to give him a hard time.
“Oh, absolutely. You think I look good, don't cha, Stevie?”
He gets a couch pillow to the face for that, but they're both laughing so he doesn't think he's crossed the line yet.
Yet, yet, yet.
“Seriously, what's up with you? You've been quiet. It makes me want to call the squad.”
“Har har,” Eddie mumbles, but he does uncurl himself, sitting back against the couch again. “I'm trying to work up the nerve to ask for advice but it's-” Christ, he doesn't even want to admit to being embarrassed, that's how embarrassed he is.
“It's what?” Steve asks, the picture of earnest encouragement. “You can talk to me about anything, man, we're, like, bonded in blood or whatever.”
“Right. Yeah. Except this has the potential to get real awkward, real quick, and I'm not sure we're at that level of friendship yet.”
“Well,” he drawls, “if you ask me whatever it is that's got you all flustered I'm sure that will level us up. Right?”
“I'm not flustered.” God damn his red fucking face. Steve just laughs at him. “It's just, I don't have anyone else to ask about this. Jonathan probably doesn't have this particular problem, cause he's got- Uh. Sorry.” Steve waves it away, so Eddie goes on. “The kids are too young and the band guys don't understand what we went through-”
“Eddie, just spit it out.”
“Fuck! Okay, fine! You asked for it.” He takes a giant breath, steels his spine and just says it. “The Trauma is affecting my ability to get laid and I don't know how to fix it. Every time I get close to it I freak out and have to bail.”
There. All out now.
He looks over at Steve, and it's so much worse than being laughed at or pitied. He just looks sad.
He shakes it off quickly, hair barely moving, Eddie notes. He finds Steve's hair routine both endearing and ridiculous.
“Yeah. Okay. That's super common, just so you know,” Steve assures him first. “Robin says it's all connected, your mind and your body, so trauma can, like, get trapped in weird places like that. I can't play baseball anymore. Cause the memory of beating demodogs to death.”
“As you do,” Eddie quips.
“Right. But your thing. Uh. Yeah, it took some time before I could relax enough to even attempt getting laid, let alone actually do it.”
“So?” Eddie drawls, waiting. “How did you get over it?”
Something is off. Steve's not known for being skiddish about sex, but his hesitation and his inability to look Eddie in the eye is setting off alarms.
“Hey, if this is too weird for you-”
“No, I'm good, it's fine. Just, I'm the only person you have to talk to about this, so I'm gonna try to be helpful but, uh,” he scratches at the back of his head awkwardly, “in all honesty, I haven't been laid since before Vecna either. Way before. So. Yeah. Not sure I should be giving out advice on anything.”
That's crazy. Like actually crazy. He can't even compute Steve Harrington not absolutely dripping in women. He must have some look on his face because Steve gives a dry sort of laugh, self deprecating, and leans back against the couch with him.
“Weren't you on a date with Brenda Mulligan the night- Vecna’s first attack?”
Steve shoots him a look. “Y- Yeah, but that didn't go anywhere. We weren't, like, compatible or whatever.”
Oh, yeah, it was weird that Eddie knew that at all, let alone remembered it nine months later. “That's too bad,” he replies lamely.
“Yep.”
He feels terrible for dragging down the whole night, it would've been better if he'd just kept his mouth shut. But that's never been his strong suit, as evidenced by him blurting out, “If the hottest guy in Hawkins can't find a suitable date, what fucking chance do I have.”
Steve snaps, “Don't say that. What the fuck?”
Great, now he's gone and made it weird. Good job calling your straight friend hot, you fuckin’ dipshit.
They sit in the awkward silence, out of things to say or out of useful things to say. Either way it's them breathing, the clock ticking, and the M.A.S.H. rerun playing softly in the background.
Steve clears his throat. “Whatever, let's get back to the point. You don't have to tell me if you don't want but…what do you think the specific reason is for your…issue?”
He thinks about it. Has been thinking about it, for a while now. “My dick still works, if that's what you're wondering.”
Steve chuckles, high and surprised. “Good for you.”
“Yeah. It's more like, I can't get out of my head. I start worrying about my scars, explaining them if someone asked. I think about how even though I don't want anything long-term, I wouldn't be able to do long-term anyway, because I'm a fucking mess. If it's really bad, I'll get flashes of Chrissy or Patrick's bones snapping, as a little soundtrack to the fun shit happening outside my head.”
Steve looks sad again. Maybe it is pity but it looks more turned inward, like he's dealing with his own shit more than Eddie’s.
“You hooking up with strangers then?”
Eddie blinks at Steve. “Well…duh. Right? Not like I have guys lined up around the block here in Hawkins.”
Steve is full blown scowling at the TV. It's weird.
“What if-”
Eddie waits but Steve doesn't finish his thought.
“What if…what?” He prompts, giving a little nudge with his foot.
He's still avoiding eye contact, not even turning his head to look in Eddie's direction.
In a soft voice, almost too quiet to hear, he says, “What if we helped each other out?”
He must've heard that wrong. Or he's misunderstanding.
“What?”
“What if we help each other out? Like, a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
That can't be right. No fucking way. It's a test. Like as soon as Eddie agrees, Steve yells ‘Aha! I knew you wanted to molest me! Goodbye forever!’ and runs out the door.
“What, exactly, do you mean? Like, what are you getting out of it?”
Steve finally looks over. “Well, I would think that was obvious. If you're willing.”
Eddie's legs are starting to go numb.
“Okay, so I blow you and you blow me, except when you're doing it I have to watch you take it like you're being force fed liver and onions at Grandma's house?”
Steve slowly shakes his head no.
“Oh, okay, so you're going to blow me and enjoy it,” he snaps sarcasticaly.
Steve nods once.
“You want to blow me?”
“Mmhmm,” he hums without moving a muscle.
“Since when!” Eddie brings his octave down from the upper atmosphere. “Since when, Harrington? This is insane behavior. Should I call the squad for you? I'm serious. I'll do it.”
“You don't have to say yes. I was just offering.” He says it like Eddie isn't one green flag away from stomping on the gas.
He starts nervously laughing, which makes Steve flinch unfortunately, but he can't stop.
“It's cool, just forget I said anything.” He moves like he's about to get up and leave, which is fucking insane because it's his living room. Eddie stops him with a tight grip around the bicep.
“Don't you dare. If you're even remotely serious, we have to have a much longer conversation. Sit.”
Steve drops like a sack of bricks. Which is…something.
“Right. First off, this is uncommon behavior in a straight friend. Is there something you'd like to tell me, so I don't think you've been body snatched?”
He pinches at the top of his nose, like Eddie is inconveniencing him greatly. Too bad.
“I'm probably bisexual.”
“Probably?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I'm an inexperienced bisexual,” he amends through clenched teeth.
“Good. Great. Happy to hear it.” His heart may explode from his torso à la Ridley Scott's Alien but sure. “Second on the agenda, what do you mean help each other out? What's on the table? Mutual handjobs and then we never talk about it again?”
“No,” Steve answers immediately. That's good. “I'm open to…whatever you're open to.”
“Steve.” He has to clear his throat. “You dont even know what you're agreeing to.”
“I trust you.”
Fuuuuuck.
“Okay, right, uh, let's circle back to that later. Third thing, what, uh, what is your level of commitment with this?”
He just stares at Eddie, all doe eyed. It shouldn't work, Eddie fucking invented that look. It's gotten him out of more scrapes than he can count. Now it's being used against him but to what end? Does Steve want to get bundled up in a blanket and tucked into bed? Because Eddie can make that happen for him.
“Whatever you want, I guess,” he finally says. “I mean, like I said earlier, friends who help each other out. Casual. I'm not interested in looking for Mrs Harrington anymore and you're having a problem relaxing around guys who don't understand what you went through.” He makes a gesture like ‘Ta da.’
He's not wrong. It makes sense. But…
“Fourth thing. Is this just an experiment for you? Cause I'm all for you exploring your sexuality but, historically speaking, friends are a bad place to start.” AKA ‘it will break my fucking heart if you decide you're not that into it and it's because it's me.’
“Eddie. Look.” He gets more comfortable, facing Eddie straight on finally. “What you're going to provide is practical knowledge on what has only been theoretical up to this point, but the theory has already been well established.” He taps his head. “Understand?”
A smug confidence melts Eddie into the couch. “You liiike me,” he sings. “You think about me naaaked. You wanna-”
Steve lands on him, lacking any elegance or grace, and nearly caves their skulls in with his Jay Garrick approach to kissing. Eddie doesn't say a fucking word. He does wonder at the fucking majesty that is making out sober. What a revelation. Steve keeps making these tiny, almost wounded noises, to the point where Eddie tries to back up and do a check in but Steve doesn't let him, he chases him down and latches back onto Eddie's bottom lip like he's Hannibal Lector. It's stupid hot.
Everything is going great until Steve lets out a sound that legitimately has Eddie worried he's upset about something.
He pulls back and asks, “Are you okay?”
“Oh fuck, I'm sorry. I just can't, I can't believe I got this fucking far. You're so hot I'm losing my fucking mind.”
“Me?” Eddie snaps. “Dude, you're out of your mind.” He pokes Steve in his meaty chest. “Literal. Prom. King.”
“Fucking stupid high school shit, are you kidding me?” He sits up, straddling Eddie's hips, which is boner enhancing to say the least; he's got Steve's thighs in his grasp immediately. “You don't get it, I'm gone on you. I've got it bad, man. I was playing it cool earlier-”
“At no point tonight were you in any way playing it cool.”
“-but, fuck it, guess I'm ruining it, cause I can't be cool about this. I don't want casual. I don't even want to date you,” and before Eddie can even worry about that, he says, “I wanna skip straight to boyfriends, man. I know you said you didn't want long term with anyone but-”
Eddie interrupts again, this time by pulling Steve back down horizontal and kissing him like he just bravely declared himself as all in.
If this is a pod-person, well, that's a problem for Tomorrow Eddie. Tonight Eddie just landed Steve Harrington as a boyfriend.
steddie | rating: t | cw: none | wc: 3,5k | tags: eddie has a crush on steve, pining, eddie sits on steve’s lap as a joke, but steve turns the joke on him, twice
a/n: inspired by this post from @rogueddie (hi hello big fan of your headcanons)
click here to read on ao3
By the time Eddie comes back to the living room, carrying two bowls of popcorn, his friends have taken every available spot on the couch and on the floor.
It’s a full house tonight at the Harrington residence with El, Will and Jonathan visiting from California plus the local pipsqueaks, Wheeler, Buckley, Eddie and the host himself.
Eddie spots Steve on the couch and he marches over to him, ignoring the grunts and grumbles from the kids as he steps over them where they sit on the assortment of pillows and blankets laid on the floor. On his way over, Eddie hands one of the bowls to Mini Byers and the other one to El, knowing that out of everyone on the floor, they’re the most likely to actually share it. Meanwhile, Buckley and Jonathan are already holding their own bowl each, meant to be shared among the grown-ups piled on the couch.
Usually two bowls are enough, but given that there’s more of them tonight, Steve had to bring out two more JiffyPop and he asked Eddie to bring them back while he got everyone settled in the living room.
Which means it’s Steve’s fault that there’s no room left for Eddie to sit.
Okay. Maybe there’s actually room for him to sit. Maybe Eddie could take the free spot on one of the blankets right next to Max. Maybe he could steal one of the many pillows that Henderson is hoarding and comfortably enjoy the movie.
The thing is he doesn’t want to. He always sits next to Steve when there’s fewer of them and he’d hope tonight would be the same, but that spot is currently occupied by Buckley, who isn’t going to move no matter how nicely Eddie asks, and since Steve’s other side is squished against the arm of the couch to make enough room for four people to sit on the otherwise three-people couch, Eddie can’t ask him to scoot over.
And before Eddie sucks it up and sits on the floor, he’s going to whine about it.
“I can’t believe you didn’t save me a seat, Stevie,” Eddie pouts, standing between his legs.
Steve’s big Bambi eyes blink up at him. “I tried, Eds, but Robs threatened me so I would give her your spot.”
And oh- Eddie didn’t actually expect Steve to try and save him a seat, he was just messing with him. The fact that he apparently did makes Eddie’s stomach flutter.
Next to Steve, Robin smiles smugly at him.
“You’ve fought monsters from another dimension and you’re afraid of Birdie?” Eddie asks, huffing indignantly. Buckley flips him off.
“She threatened to bite me, man!”
Eddie tsks. “You survived several bites from hell bats, you could’ve let her bite you.”
“You let her bite you then!” Steve counters, lightly kicking Eddie’s leg.
“I don’t want to bite either of you,” Robin says, her nose scrunched up. “I want to watch the movie. Dustin, hit play,” she says, throwing a kernel at Henderson’s head, who grumbles and crawls over to the VHS. “Eddie, sit down,” she says, throwing one at him too.
Eddie gets an idea and he grins maliciously.
“As you wish, my lady,” he says with a flourish of his hand.
Then Eddie turns around and flops down on Steve’s lap.
Steve lets out a yelp. “Jesus, what are you doing?”
“Buckley said to sit down,” Eddie shrugs, glancing at Steve over his shoulder. “And since there’s no room, thanks to you, I’m taking the last available seat.”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “My lap?” Eddie nods smugly. “Eddie, there’s plenty of room on the floor.”
“But this is more comfortable, Stevie.”
“For you, maybe,” Steve snorts, pinching Eddie’s side. “Your tailbone is digging into my leg, Munson.”
“Well, Harrington, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d save me a seat!”
“Shhhh!”
Eddie flips Buckley off for shushing them. She glares at him for bickering when the movie already started playing.
Okay. Maybe Steve was right to be afraid of her- she has a very mean glare.
“Fine,” Eddie concedes before Buckley actually bites him. He sighs dramatically, “I guess I’ll sit on the floor like a dog-”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally everyone else is sitting there and no one is complaining-”
Eddie ignores him. “And here I thought you liked me, Stevie, cared about me. I thought we were friends-” he says, clutching his chest.
“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters in exasperation.
But when Eddie tries to stand up, Steve’s hands grab his hips, pulling him back into his lap. He flails and almost topples over onto Robin and Steve’s grip on his hips tightens.
“Dude, stop moving.”
“I’m trying to get up!” Eddie says, throwing his arms up.
Steve sighs. “Just-” He trails off, instead manhandling Eddie until he’s properly sitting on his lap and not sliding off of it, and wrapping his arms around his waist, trapping Eddie against his chest.
Eddie lets out an entirely involuntary, undignified squawk. Blood starts rushing to his cheeks alarmingly fast. “Um, Steve, what are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable,” Steve says, his cheek squished against Eddie’s shoulder.
A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “Dude, I was fucking around, I can sit on the floor-”
“And spend the rest of the movie whining and pouting? No, thanks. Just don’t move too much, okay? Your ass is boney.”
Unable to help himself, Eddie gives a tee-hee giggle. “So many dirty jokes I could make.”
Steve squeezes his side. “Don’t-”
“Shhhhh!”
This time, it’s not just Buckley shutting them up, everyone else joins in.
“Just watch the movie, Eddie,” Steve whispers into his ear so he doesn’t disturb the others.
Eddie has to bite his bottom lip to keep quiet when he feels Steve’s warm breath tickling his neck. “Okay,” he says, his voice coming out a little squeaky.
But Steve doesn’t comment on it, simply tightens his arms around Eddie’s waist and leans back against the couch, bringing Eddie with him so they’re basically spooning.
Eddie nervously glances around the living room, but no one is paying attention to them. Well, no one except Robin, who’s staring at them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Eddie ignores her and the knowing smile that stretches over her lips, trying to focus on the movie.
But try as he might, he can’t pay attention to it- not when he can feel Steve’s breath against his neck, his arms around his waist, his chin hooked on his shoulder and his solid body underneath him.
Being so close to Steve- on top of him, makes Eddie jittery and restless. But he can’t move, Steve told him not to, so he tries to sit still.
He lasts, approximately, five minutes.
Soon, he starts wringing his fingers together on his lap, playing with his rings.
Steve notices, and with a huff that sends shivers down Eddie’s spine when his breath tickles his neck, he grabs Eddie’s hands and traps them against his stomach.
Eddie’s eyes fall to their hands, and his breath catches in his throat at the way their fingers rest intertwined against his stomach. He can’t look away- not when Steve’s fingers start drawing patterns over his skin, tracing the veins in his wrists, playing with his rings, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.
Eddie has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from squealing. It only gets harder to keep quiet when something funny happens on screen- not that Eddie knows what is going on at all- and Steve laughs right in Eddie’s ear, squeezing his middle.
This time Eddie does let out a squeak which he hopes passes off as a laugh.
It doesn’t.
“You okay?” Steve asks, and Eddie doesn’t know how he expects him to give a coherent answer when he can feel Steve’s nose poking his cheek.
Their faces are so close that if Eddie turned his head to the side his lips would brush against Steve’s, he would only need to lean in an inch or two and he’d be kissing him-
“Eds?”
“Mhm, I’m great, Stevie boy!” Eddie says with a slightly strangled voice, but it’s enough for Steve, who turns his attention back to the movie.
Eddie still has no idea of what’s going on, but he tries his damnedest to focus on that instead of focusing on all the ways Steve is touching him right now.
He didn’t plan for this- he just wanted to mess with Steve a little and now he’s the one being messed with.
Not that Steve knows what he’s doing. He would never fuck with Eddie like this if he knew about his big crush on him. He’s just oblivious- and incredibly touchy when it comes to Eddie.
Which makes the remaining forty minutes spent in Steve’s arms both Eddie’s personal heaven and his personal hell.
That’s why when the credits starts to roll, Eddie lets out a relieved sigh. He expects Steve to push him off right away, but he doesn’t, not even when little by little everyone starts to clear out. Buckley jumps to her feet and clumsily sprints towards the bathroom, the kids all rush to the kitchen to raid Steve’s pantry while ignoring his protests and Nancy and Jonathan start gathering the pillows and the blankets scattered on the floor.
Meanwhile, Steve squeezes Eddie’s side again and asks right into his ear-
“You’re spending the night, right, Eds?”
He knows Steve means to sleep. They talked about it when they realized that with Nancy and Jonathan both coming to movie night, Eddie wouldn’t need to drop the kids off afterwards so he could sleep over. It’s nothing new- they’ve been doing it for months. It’s just the way he’s asking right now, quietly and right into Eddie’s ear, his arms wrapped around Eddie’s middle- all of it makes Eddie’s stomach flutter wildly.
“Y-yeah, sure thing, Stevie.”
“Okay, good,” Steve says, giving Eddie’s waist one last squeeze before finally pushing him off him and onto the couch gently so he can deal with whatever mess the kids can be heard making in the kitchen.
Eddie slumps against the couch, sighing wistfully. Despite everything, he already misses the way Steve felt under him, how his arms felt around him, how his fingers felt playing with his own.
“You good, man?” Jonathan asks, pausing as he folds one of the blankets to raise an eyebrow at him.
Eddie gives him two thumbs up that Jonathan accepts with a nod before he goes back to the task at hand, chatting with Nancy about the movie. Eddie is lucky that they don’t ask for his opinion on it- he doesn’t know if he’d be able to lie convincingly.
Soon enough everyone is saying goodbye to Eddie and Steve before some of them climb into Nancy’s car and the rest do the same in Jonathan’s. They don’t question that Eddie is staying- the only one who acknowledges it is Robin, who gives Eddie that same knowing smile from before. And just like he did before, Eddie ignores it.
Once it’s just the two of them, Steve starts guiding them to his bedroom.
Eddie stopped sleeping in a guest room a long time ago after one night when a particularly awful nightmare had him knocking on Steve’s door and crawling into his bed.
The next day, they both admitted it was the best sleep they’d had in weeks.
The next time Eddie spent the night, Steve had led them both to his bedroom right away- just like every night after that.
“What did you think of the movie?” Steve asks, digging through his closet for sleeping clothes.
“Um,” Eddie starts, trying to remember at least one thing about the movie he can comment on but coming up blank. “I, uh, didn’t pay much attention to it.”
Oblivious to the reason why Eddie didn’t pay attention, Steve hums. “Not your thing, huh? Next movie night you can be the one to pick.” He turns around and tosses some clothes at Eddie, who fumbles to catch them- and fails. Steve sniggers at him before he starts looking for clothes for himself.
Eddie picks his up- a pair of Steve’s old basketball shorts and one of Eddie’s own band t-shirts that he must’ve left here at some point. Or Steve might’ve grabbed from his trailer. Beds aren’t the only thing they share these days.
“Will you save me a seat next movie night?”
Steve glances at Eddie over his shoulder, his lips tugging up into a smirk. “Maybe I’ll just have you sit on my lap again,” he says with a wink. Good lord.
Eddie makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat at the thought of another movie night spent on Steve’s lap. Then, before Steve can ask if he’s okay, he gestures to the bathroom and locks himself there to change.
When he comes back out, Steve is starfished on his bed, wearing his own pair of basketball shorts and an old swim meet shirt.
Eddie takes a moment to stare at him- the way the shorts ride up on his legs, the way his arms bulge even when he isn’t flexing them, the way his hair fans across his pillow.
Then he impulsively sprints towards the bed and launches himself on top of Steve.
He lets out a pained noise when Eddie lands on him, knocking the wind out of him, but his hands come up to grab Eddie’s arms, holding him in place and not letting him slide off him and onto the bed like he intended to.
“Seriously, dude?” Steve asks, slightly out of breath.
Eddie laughs into his shoulder. “Sorry, Stevie, I couldn’t help myself.”
Steve huffs. “I’m starting to think you like being on top of me.”
Eddie shrugs. “Actually, I usually picture you on top.”
Steve snorts out a startled sort of chuckle, eyebrows raised in amusement, and Eddie’s cheeks blaze red as he belatedly realizes what he just blurted out.
He doesn’t know what to do next. If he should play it off as a joke or climb off of Steve and run out of the house-
He thinks Steve is making the decision for him when he adjusts the grip he has on his arms. He thinks he’s about to shove Eddie off, tell him that it’s never gonna happen, Eds.
Eddie starts to push himself up, feeling embarrassed already-
But then Steve digs his fingers into his arms, and in one swift movement, he flips them over so it’s Eddie laying flat on his back on the bed with Steve hovering over him, smirking playfully. “Like this?”
Eddie blinks at him, waiting for his brain to restart after completely shutting down from how effortlessly Steve flipped them over.
“I- huh? Steve- what-”
“You said you like to picture me on top,” Steve says, shrugging casually. Their hips are pressed together and their faces are only inches apart- Eddie doesn’t understand how Steve can act casual about anything right now. “Personally, I don’t have a preference. I also liked being under you.”
Eddie splutters. “S- Steve?”
“Yeah?” Steve asks innocently, tilting his head like a confused puppy. His hips shift and Eddie realizes just how thin the material of their shorts is. Jesus H. Christ.
“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters.
“What the fuck what?”
Steve can’t be this oblivious, for fuck’s sake.
Eddie covers his face with his hands, taking a deep breath. “Jesus fuck, okay. Steve, when I said- I didn’t mean it as a joke, okay? I didn’t mean to say it at all, but I- our crotches are basically pressed together right now and I can’t not say it. I have a fucking- honestly a fucking embarrassing crush on you so when I said I think about you on top of me, I meant it, and I meant it in like, a sexual way and a- a romantic way and I know you’re joking right now, but this- well, this is about to get reeeally awkward really fast if you don’t get off of me.”
Eddie peeks through his fingers and finds Steve biting his lower lip like he’s thinking something over.
“Do you want me to move?”
“Fuck, no,” Eddie admits with a sigh. “But Steve-”
“Eddie, hey,” Steve cuts in, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and trying to move his hand away from his face. “Look at me.”
With another sigh, Eddie complies, lowering his hands and looking at Steve.
“There you are,” Steve says, his eyes softening when they meet Eddie’s.
“Steve-”
“I’m not joking,” Steve tells him. “I like you too, Eddie. Romantically, sexually, all of it.”
Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. He blinks at Steve. “But- but you’re- you’re straight.”
“I’m not actually,” Steve snorts. When Eddie just stares at him, mouth agape, he sighs. “Eds, I let you sit on my lap for two hours, I basically spooned you.” He looks down between them and looks back at Eddie with a raised eyebrow. “I’m literally straddling you right now-”
“I’m aware,” Eddie mutters, his voice coming out slightly strangled.
Steve ignores him. “And I really really like you, so- definitely not straight.”
Eddie lays there in silence for a few seconds as he tries to wrap his head around the fact that not only is Steve Harrington into guys, he’s into Eddie.
“Holy shit,” he says finally and then, “why- why didn’t you say anything? You had to know I like you back.”
Steve gives a half shrug. “I thought I’d ease you into it first-”
“Ease me into it?” Eddie’s voice is about an octave too high. “You call this easing me into it? I think my brain melted out of my ears when you flipped us over like that!”
Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, you sat on top of me first! I was just taking a page out of your own book-”
“What book? There’s no book! I was just joking, you were the one who trapped me there!”
“Well, when the guy you’ve had a crush on for months sits on your lap you don’t let him go,” Steve admits, shyly ducking his head.
Eddie gulps. “Months?”
“Yeah, Eddie, months,” Steve admits, his fingers absently playing with Eddie’s hair where it fans across the bed.
“Holy shit.”
“You’re just gonna keep saying that?” Steve asks with a sheepish grin.
“What do you want me to say?” He’ll say anything Steve wants him to just to keep them both like this.
Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s mouth. “Nothing, actually,” he says, licking his lips. “I want you to kiss me.”
Holy shit, Eddie thinks to himself, and then without another thought, he surges up, looping his arms around Steve’s shoulders as he all but mashes their lips together.
Steve hums into Eddie’s mouth and melts into him, kissing Eddie back. He lowers his arms, holding himself up with one elbow, using his other hand to cup Eddie’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. His lips move against Eddie’s so tenderly and slowly that it makes his stomach fill with butterflies.
Then Steve tongues gently at Eddie’s bottom lip and the butterflies explode.
Eddie immediately parts his mouth, giving Steve permission, and his eyes nearly roll back when Steve slips his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Eddie cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, giving it a soft pull, causing Steve to make this punched-out groaning sound. Chasing that sound with his tongue, Eddie carefully explores every inch of Steve’s mouth.
Eventually, Steve starts to slow down the kiss, but Eddie doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to breathe, he just wants to kiss him, but he can’t do anything when Steve leans back and out of reach, the lower part of his body trapping him against the bed.
Unless-
Eddie grabs Steve’s arms and tries to flip them the way Steve did earlier but, while he made it look easy and effortless, Eddie can’t find enough leverage to budge Steve and he flops back down.
“Motherfucker,” Eddie huffs. “How did you make it seem so easy?”
“It is easy,” Steve says with a grin. “You’re just not strong enough, baby.”
Eddie squeals at the pet name- and then squeals again when Steve successfully flips them over again so that Eddie is straddling him.
He grins up at Eddie, that lopsided boyish grin that drives Eddie crazy and that it’s only worse now that Steve’s lips are red and slick with spit. “How’s that?”
“Hot. Christ, that’s fucking hot,” Eddie says with a breathless chuckle.
“So, that’s a yes to being on top?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow, his hands grabbing Eddie’s hips like they did back on the couch. Only this time Eddie isn’t planning on getting off of him any time soon. Preferably never.
“Sweetheart, that’s a yes to absolutely anything ever.”
Steve bites his lip, then he asks softly, “What if I ask you to be my boyfriend?”
Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “You-you want to be my boyfriend?”
“Pretty fucking badly actually,” Steve shyly admits.
Eddie whimpers softly. “Holy shit,” he mutters. Then he swoops down and gives Steve a kiss that he hopes translates to fucking shit yes!
By the way Steve laughs delightedly against Eddie’s lips, he thinks he gets the message across.
For @astrangersummer week 12 prompt 'not-date.' Title from Love Like Ghosts by Lord Huron.
Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Rating: T
W/C: 1245
Tags: Post Series 4, Everyone Lives, Eddie's in love with Steve, Steve loves him back but Eddie's a bit oblivious, fluff, first date, summer, picnic, first kiss, getting together
Summary: Eddie's been trying for months to keep his feelings for Steve in check. But unbeknownst to Eddie, Steve's taken him on a date.
___
It’s not a date, Eddie reminds himself for about the hundredth time that afternoon.
It’s just that the others must’ve cancelled, he figures. Robin and Nancy, because they definitely would’ve been asked too, maybe even Jonathan and Argyle, but it’s summer, people have other plans, the others just…must not have been available.
He tells himself this firmly as he follows Steve on the little path through the woods to the edge of Lover’s Lake.
As Steve sets up the picnic blanket, Eddie repeats it to himself again. And while he puts the little basket down, while he pulls out baked goods and small sandwiches with the crusts cut off Eddie chews on his bottom lip and digs his nails into his palms because Steve’s so fucking perfect and Eddie would love more than anything for the two of them to be something more, for this picnic to be something other than just an outing of friends…
But Steve isn’t his, and this is not a date.
“Want a beer?” Steve asks, blinking up at Eddie.
“Uh…yeah,” Eddie wills himself to speak, to unfreeze, to act fucking normal.
He lowers himself onto the blanket next to Steve, looks out across the lake. It’s a hot day, barely a breeze to shift the muggy air around, and the lake is still and clear as glass. Eddie sneaks glances at Steve as he rifles around in the basket for the beers he’d stashed there earlier. Steve’s in a tank top and stupidly short shorts, and he’s all golden skin kissed with moles and cheeks slightly reddened from long days spent in the sun and Eddie wants to reach out and touch…
He swallows thickly instead. Takes the beer Steve’s holding out to him, sips at it, then again to give his mouth something to do so he doesn’t say something stupid…
“S’nice here, huh?” Steve comments, taking the lid off one of his containers and offering it to Eddie.
Eddie reaches in, pulls out a cookie, no doubt carefully baked by Steve the day before.
Why did he have to be so perfect?
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, clearing his throat. He flaps a hand towards the water. “Certainly nicer than when we were last here.”
Steve chuckles lightly, nods. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to – they all know they’re remembering that time in the dark, in the cold; slimy tentacles and black depths and a gaping gate to hell.
They’ve come to the opposite side of the lake today, Eddie notices. As far away from…that spot as they can be. And everything looks different from this angle, like if he squinted they could be somewhere else entirely.
That had no doubt been intentional on Steve’s part, he supposes.
They eat in silence for a short time, until Eddie can’t bear it anymore – he never was very good at keeping his mouth shut.
“A shame Buckley and the others couldn’t make it,” he says through a mouthful of bread.
Steve frowns, a flicker of confusion passing over his face. “Huh?”
“Buckley,” Eddie repeats, swallowing before he was quite ready to, wincing as the food hurt his throat going down. “And Nance, Jonathan and Argyle…were they busy or something? They would’ve liked this.”
Steve’s frown deepens. “I dunno, I didn’t…I didn’t ask them.”
What?
Eddie falters. Stutters around his sentence a bit. “You didn’t? I – I just…well, I thought…you and Robin do everything together and Nancy often tags along with her now and so I just figured you would’ve asked them at least, too.”
Steve’s brow unknits. He puts down his beer, turns to Eddie, sunlight dancing in his eyes.
Eddie’s heart thumps at the sight.
“Eds…I wanted to come here with you. Just you.”
“Why?” Eddie refuses to admit the way that word came out as a squeak.
Steve tilts his head, a small smile playing across his lips. “You don’t know?”
No, Eddie very much doesn’t, because he’s been refusing to let himself believe even for a moment that Steve is remotely interested in him for anything other than friendship because he’ll be let down, he’ll be so fucking disappointed when it turns out not to be true. So he’s been strict with himself, he’s told himself over and over that Steve doesn’t like him like that, has ignored the lingering looks from the other man and the soft touches to the back of his hand, to his shoulder, because Steve’s a touchy sort of guy, they don’t mean anything.
Eddie’s not in love with Steve Harrington, he’s told himself every single damn day for months now.
The truth is, he’d fallen ass over tit in love with the former King that fateful night in Reefer Rick’s boatshed.
“Eddie,” Steve continues softly, reaching cautiously for his hand, taking it gently.
Eddie lets him. Thinks he’d let this man do anything.
“I…I like you. All this -” Steve gestures around them, to the lake, to the picnic blanket, to the food he’d prepared, “ – you know this is…a date, right?”
Oh.
Oh.
“This is me trying to…woo you, or whatever, maybe it sounds stupid but I’ve only ever done this with girls and they always liked this sort of thing so I thought…well. Sorry. If it’s stupid. Or…” Steve waves a hand, drops his chin to his chest, cheeks flushed with something more than just the sun now. “We can go somewhere else, if you want. Or home. If you want to go home. I could drive you back -”
“No,” Eddie interrupts, perhaps a little too zealously because Steve snaps his mouth shut. “I didn’t…I didn’t know this was a date.”
Amusement dances across Steve’s face. “You didn’t think the picnic with just the two of us at Lover’s Lake of all places was a date?”
Eddie sniffs, because when it was put like that…
Steve laughs, shuffles closer to him. “Sorry, Eds. Maybe I should’ve just told you. I was nervous, ok?”
“You? Nervous? Because of a date?” Eddie splutters. “You’ve been on so many, you could like…tutor people on dating, and shit.” And that was…a little lame, but Eddie’s reeling here.
“But this is you,” Steve says quietly, and it’s so sincere that Eddie goes still, looks down at their joined hands. “It matters.”
Eddie breathes out. Looks up again, meets Steve’s eyes and goes warm all over because Steve’s gazing at him like he hung the moon or something.
He’d try, if Steve asked him to.
He let Steve bring a hand to his cheek. Let him guide him forward, until their noses brushed, until their lips pressed together, and then Eddie Munson was kissing Steve Harrington and stranger things had happened - the two of them were all too fucking aware of that, they were sitting on top of a nightmare realm for fuck’s sake.
But somehow the Upside Down had been easier for Eddie to wrap his head around than this.
Steve kisses him. Gently, with his hand tangled in Eddie’s curls, and Eddie thinks he could die here, on the shore of the lake that really had nearly killed them.
But then Steve’s pulling back a little, and Eddie remembers how to breathe, and he’s very much not dead, he’s alive and Steve’s smiling at him and Eddie feels like the luckiest man alive.
“You do that on every date, Stevie?” Eddie quips, but he’s panting a little, Steve having stolen the air from his lungs.
Prompt: Mutual Pining | Rated: E | Additional Tags: Modern AU, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Hypothetical Top!Eddie/Bottom!Steve
-
Need more trope reversal with gay!Steve and still-thinks-he's-straight!Eddie obliviously pining after each other
Like, Eddie isn't into guys, but it's fine that Steve is. It's cool! Eddie is super supportive! He even helps vet Steve's dates. And whatever anyone (coughRobincough) says, he is not overly invested in Steve's love life. Sure, he might judge potential partners a little harshly, but it's for one of his best friends! Steve is great, and he deserves the best; it's not Eddie's fault so many guys fail to live up to standards.
Meanwhile, Steve is quietly dying, because he's been into Eddie since forever, but Eddie is straight, and he has to sit there and listen to Eddie extol his virtues and talk about how he deserves someone great while not being romantically interested in him whatsoever. But Steve also never claimed he isn't pathetic, so he'll take what he can get; maybe dating a guy who Eddie deems worthy will be almost as good as getting to be with Eddie himself?
Anyway, that train wreck is happening, and it all sort of comes to a head one night when Steve comes home to their shared apartment from yet another date, visibly frustrated and a bit disappointed, and Eddie isn't one to say I Told You So (much), but he had told Steve so. He'd said he hadn't liked the look of the guy's profile picture; Eddie has a sense about these things.
But still, he asks, "Bad date?"
Steve shrugs. "It wasn't- terrible."
"Oh, high praise."
"Well, it wasn't!" Steve gives a little laugh. "I mean, he was... nice."
"He bored you, didn't he?" Eddie can't help himself. "I told you he would be boring, who uses a picture of themselves in a suit for their profile on a dating app?"
"He wasn't boring, he was just- nice," Steve hedges. "A little too nice."
Eddie raises his brows. "Like... suspiciously nice?"
"No, not- we just weren't compatible," Steve says, still frustratingly vague.
Eddie is silent, staring at Steve, willing him to go on.
"In bed," Steve finally elaborates with a sigh. "The sex sucked, man."
"Ah." Eddie nods sagely. And then, because - okay, not because he's overly invested in Steve's love life, thank you very much, but because he's a good friend, right? And a good ally. And - yes, fine, he's also a little curious, sue him, but because of all of that, he asks, "You don't like 'em nice?"
Steve snorts. "I'm not saying I like people to be mean, it's just - I mean, it's kinda hot, you know? Having a guy who can push me around a little - take over so I don't have to think. Like, people just kind of assume I want to be in charge, that I'm gonna take over and-" Steve shakes his head, "I dunno, that's just not really what I'm into."
Eddie nods; this is definitely important information that he needs to have, obviously, if he's going to help Steve find The Perfect Guy. And he can't imagine why anyone wouldn't want to give Steve exactly what he wants - he would be so pretty, pressed into the mattress, clutching at the sheets, scrambling for purchase, for a way to channel the pleasure as he gets fucked. Who wouldn't want that?
Like, objectively. Objectively, Steve is an attractive guy, anyone can see that, so objectively he'd probably look hot while getting railed within an inch of his life. That's just science. Surely any guy who also likes guys would be into that.
Eddie realizes he's maybe been silent for too long. "So you're a pillow princess, huh?" he teases, trying to will away the image he's got in his head of Steve begging for some guy's cock, faster, harder-
"Fuck off." Steve gives Eddie a shove, but he's laughing a little. "I am not. I'm definitely not opposed to doing some work to get what I want."
The Steve in Eddie's head that for some reason won't go away shifts from arching his back while on his hands and knees to sitting in some probably undeserving guy's lap, riding him like a fucking pro, head thrown back in ecstasy, and Eddie very much needs to go now, needs to go address the completely unavoidable boner that's come up because they're talking about sex. That's just what happens sometimes. Unavoidably. Totally normal.
"Well, I'll keep that in mind. While we're hunting for your dream guy, I mean," Eddie says quickly, levering himself up off the couch and making for his bedroom as quickly as he can without being suspicious. "Sorry the date was a dud. We'll find your man, though, Stevie, despair not!"
He barely catches a glimpse of the odd look Steve is shooting him before he shuts his bedroom door. He can't think too much on it, because his brain is busy with other things - things like initiating the most confusing jerk-off session of Eddie's life.
But they were just talking about Steve and his preferences in bed, alright? It doesn't have to mean anything that Eddie's suddenly imagining it's his lap that Steve could be bouncing in, whining and crying out as Eddie thrusts up into him, hitting him just right. It doesn't have to mean anything that he imagines putting Steve on his back, imagines Steve's legs wrapped around his waist, imagines holding Steve's hips so hard he leaves finger-shaped bruises, imagines fucking Steve until he's sobbing and still begging for more, because Eddie understands what Steve needs, Eddie can give him what he wants--
It doesn't have to mean anything that Eddie comes harder into the slick clutch of his fist, imagining it's Steve's tight ass, than he has in ages.
It doesn't have to mean anything, but Eddie gets the feeling that maybe it does.
And shit, he may have to do some self reflection.
(Meanwhile, if Steve retires to his own room to have some private time with his favorite toy, fucking himself like he wishes Eddie would, shoving his own fingers in his mouth to keep from calling out his name, that's his business. And if he didn't admit to Eddie that the biggest reason the date had sucked had simply been because the date wasn't him, well - that's Steve's business, too.)
There are many rumours about Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. Steve only gets his weed from the freak because he gives good discount and sloppy heads. (That rumour is on the jocks of Hawkins High. yes, Steve gets his weed from Eddie, no he doesn't get sloppy heads from Eddie though he thinks the metal head would probably be good at it.)
They've once raced against each other and Eddie won. Beamer against shabby, rusty Van. It's said that Eddie pushed Steve off the road and then left him in a ditch. (The truth is that Steve crashed the beamer one night in '85 after weeks of nightmares and the need to drive through Hawkins to make sure that no demodog would attack his kids. Eddie merely helped him and the beamer out of the ditch.)
They've been friends looooong before the Upside Down. (This is from the kids, specifically from Dustin. And it is anything but true.)
Steve and Eddie made out once in 1981. With their hands down their pants, tongue far up in each others mouths. (This is from a cheerleader who graduated in '82).
This is...well...true. To a point! No hands in pants, but yeah, Steve and Eddie onces kissed. To be specific, it was Steve's first kiss, for both of them really.
Winter '81 at Michael Carvers birthday party where Steve was invited as the youngest basketball player in the team and Eddie was there to sell weed.
Somehow, Steve got pulled into a round of 7 minutes in Heaven by said cheerleader (which had been a trick, a little prank on little Stevie because there had been no 7 minutes in heaven, just some giggling cheerleaders and a perplexed Eddie Munson selling weed out off Carvers pantry).
The moment Steve was shoved into the tiny, dark space with no one but the freak, he had 2 options: run and be the joke of the school or stay and become an enigma in his first year of Highschool.
So, Steve stayed.
'Pre-rolled or a baggy?' Eddie, sitting on a chair, had asked with a drawl which would have been intimidating if his voice hadn't broken right then.
'7 minutes in hell' Steve simply said, ignoring both the lunchbox on Eddie's knees and the funny crack of his voice.
the other boy leaned back, head tilted like a confused puppy, 'Isn't it 7 minutes in Heaven?'
Steve shrugged his shoulders, 'probably depends on who's with you, you know?'
And that made Eddie laugh, head bend, eyes squeezed shut, a nice, rumbling sort of sound escaping his lips.
'Good point', he'd said and closed the lunchbox before leaning closer, 'What'cha intend to do about it?'
Until this very moment, Steve didn't know, hadn't had a clue, but when the laughter of the cheerleaders from the other side of the door reached his ears, he shrugged again and said, 'probably kiss you until the 7 minutes are over and then buy a pre-rolled.'
'You don't mind that they might called you a fag?'
For a moment, Steve thought about it, but then shrugged again. He wasn't one, liked girls just fine and if anything, he thinks Lucy from geography definitely would like to hold his hands.
'Nah, I don't mind.'
And before the other boy could say anything, Steve marched closer and bend down, one hand on Eddie's knee, the other on his smooth cheek.
'But I'm not gonna kiss you if you don't want it,' he said right against Eddie's lips. Eddie, who looked startled and wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. Steve knew that he sounded far more confident than he actually felt, and he was just so very grateful that his hands weren't as sweaty with nervousness as the lower part of his back. He just hoped that he smelled nice.
'5 more minutes,' someone called out and Eddie jerked against Steve’s hands.
'OK,' he said quietly, sounding so small and Steve felt for him, so he said, honest and with a bit vulnerability, 'it's my first kiss.'
Before Eddie could say anything, however, Steve kissed him. Just a light pressure of lips against lips. He stopped, leaned back to look at Eddie only to find him with his eyes closed, so Steve leaned in again. One peck, two, a third, and then Eddie's hand closed around Steve's waist to move him closer, right between his parted legs. Another hand reached for Steve's head, slightly cold fingers curled into his hair and Eddie's thumb began to brush almost gently over Steve's ear. It felt electrifying. He hummed. This time, when their lips met, they opened and Steve carefully let his tongue run along Eddie's lower lip. He's met with a heavy exhale and something like a quiet whine. It's sounded like heaven, so he did it again only to feel Eddie's tongue against his. Wet, Steve thought at first, a bit slimey, but then Eddie grabbed his head harder and opened his mouth wider and with it, Eddie's tongue brushed against his, and it felt like nothing Steve's ever felt before. Warm and fuzzy and lovely, and Eddie tasted like mint gums and spit. He groaned. Steve reached for Eddie's hair, short and curly and so soft against his hand and somehow he's not standing anymore but sitting on Eddie's lap, their chests touching. When Steve's teeth accidently dug into Eddie's wonderfully plush bottom lip, he moaned into Steve's mouth. It was as if the sound echoed through Steve's bones. So he did it again. And again, nails digging into Eddie's neck to keep him close. The hand on Steve's waist trailed along his waistband and then under Steve's shirt to tickle his stomach and before thinking too much, he pressed into it.
Eddie tilted his head and brushed his tongue against Steve's and then against his teeth and lips and before he knew what was happening, Eddie's beautiful, unskilled mouth, left his lips and trailed along his jaw to his ear, gently biting into the flesh behind it. And Steve outright moaned loud enough for the sound to travel outside of the pantry.
'30 more seconds' came a snickering answer and the two boys jumped apart. Eddie's cheeks and neck were flushed bright red, his lips shiny with spit, his hair a mess and Steve knew he probably looked just the same. They both panted, Steve's heart running a mile a minute.
'Oh,' he said, still feeling Eddie's touch against his skin (and wanting more.)
He wanted more!
Both of them tried to put their clothes and hair in order, breathing heavily and just as Steve put his hand on the doorknob to leave the tiny room, Eddie said, 'You were my first kiss, too.'
5 years later, after battles and almost dying, Steve lies on Eddie's new (thankfully clean) mattress and says with a small smile, 'best first kiss ever,' only for Eddie to smirk and say, 'We could repeat it, you know?'
They've been best friends for the last few months, similar but so much different from how Steve and Robin are best friends, but when Steve looks at Eddie and his pink lips and the way his cheeks are hot and his eyes twinkle with something more, he knows that they could be so much more...
Well, not, only, he's also wearing bright orange swim shorts and a cap backward, too.
The top part, however? Hairy man boobs are prettily covered by a black lace bra with a sparkling strass stone in the middle.
Eddie might be a teeny tiny bit drunk (2 beers after months of abstinence and medication does that to a man), but not drunk enought to imagine Steve Harrington in a bra.
'Uh-', he says eloquently and tries not to stare too much at the other man sitting on what must be Buckley's bed. 'Am I interrupting something?'
Steve, face almost as pink as Erica's favourite shoes, opens his mouth to reply, but Robin, sitting crosslegged in front of him, is faster, 'Oh its just you. Close the door, Eds.'
Eddie isn't sure if she means 'close the door and leave, never talk to us about whatever weird kinky little thing we're doing right now' or 'come in, close the door and shut up for a moment'. He hesitates for a moment, studying Steve's pretty flushed face and Robin’s wiggling eyebrows before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.
His hand is still on the door knob when he turns and finds Robin leaning against Steve’s hairy chest, one arms behind his back. She's fumbling with something, frustrated noises escape her closed lips while Steve simply sits still - like a statue. A Adonis statue wearing a bra.
'Fuck', Robin groans loudly, her forehead knocking against Steve's clavicle, his hand patting her head in condolence.
'Not to be judgmental', Eddie starts slowly as he leans against the book case right next to the door, 'But what are you guys doing?'
(Edide thought Robin's a friend of Dorothy, so why is Steve fucking Harrington sitting dolled up in a delicate bra on her bed and they look like they're ready to make out?!)
When both Steve and Robin send him evil twin looks, he holds both his hands up in surrender, 'Like I said, not gonna judge you, whatever floats your boat or whatever, but what, exactly, is it that you're trying to do here?'
'Practice', Robin grumbles against Steve's chest, tugging behind his back again.
Steve grins, a bit lopsided and goofy, 'She's trying to open the bra with one hand.'
'It's just so much easier on myself,' she says, and now that Eddie knows what's happening, he can make out her hand tugging and fumbling with the hooks behind Steve's back.
'Ah,' Eddie says, again, rather eloquently. 'I should probably leave you to it, then.'
Before he can turn and go, however, Steve says, 'I heard that you're pretty good with your hands, Munson. Bet you can get it off me in no time.'
'Pfff- ' Robin makes, rolling her eyes, 'I wouldn't be so sure he's ever had a bra in his hands.'
And while Robin has flocked him as a raging homosexual as it seems, Eddie heard the rumours about him too: finger dancing over his guitar, rolling the perfect joints, Eddie the freak Munson knows how to work his fingers. he doesn't hates this rumour at all, it's kind of nice - for his ego and all.
Yes, he hasn't opened a bra before, but he's met this hot goth dude in a corset before, and that's basically a bra with dozens of hooks. He is fairly sure he can open it with one hand and without looking. What he probably shouldn't do is coming too close to Steve Harrington, the man he's had a crush on since they survived the Upside Down together. Not with his naked skin and hairy chest and dark brown nipple peaking through the black lace of the undergarment.
But both Robin and Steve stare at him and Eddie doesn't run anymore - a challenge is a challenge.
'No problem,' he says far more confident than he actually feels and steps closer, one knee on the bed before Robin's even all out of the way.
'No looking,' she says as if she's explaining the rules to a game, 'chest to chest or face in his neck, but you can only use one hand and your eyes have to stay either closed or on him. Seriously no peeking.'
She shuffles out the way to make room for Eddie between Steve's long, also very naked, legs and Eddie swallows quietly before leaning closer.
Steve smells like suncream and grass, a bit like the pineapple they ate earlier before the kids left, and sweat. He smells devine and before Eddie can think clearly, he presses his face into Steve's neck. He feels Steve shudder when his damp lips accidentally meet his sun kissed skin and Eddie feels like he's going crazy. What is he doing? Why is he doing it? Even the slightest touch sends shockwaves through his body. God, he's gone so bad for Steve Harrington.
'Ready?' Robin asks, apparently unaware of Eddie's dilemma or the way Steve's pulse is fluttering like a hummingbird right against Eddie's nose. 'Go!'
He sneaks his right arm around Steve, who jumps slightly the moment Eddie's fingertips brush against his shoulder blades. To keep him still, Eddie's left hand reaches for Steve's waist almost automatically. He doesn't try to focus too much on the way goosebumps spread under his fingers and the way Steve literally whines into Eddie's ear. His right hand follows the scratchy lace, nails lightly scratching Steve's skin, until he finds the hooks.
Thumb under the fabric and pointer and middle finger pressing against it, he feels the first hook opening after less than a heartbeat. For a moment, Eddie doesn't want to open the other two and therefore losing any reason to be so close to Steve.
Steve, who has his nose pressed against Eddie's hair and hand curled into Eddie's shirt, slightly tugging as if .... Well, as if to ask for permission to take it off. Eddie doesn't even know when he had the time to grab for the shirt in the first place.
Eddie moves his hand and the second hook opens. He turns his face, brings a bit more space between them to look at Steve. His cheeks are scarlet, lips shiney with spit and when he opens his eyes after mere seconds of Eddie staring at him, he can see that Steve's pupils are dilated, eyes dark with want.
The last hook springs free and without turning his eyes away, Eddie gently brushes the strap off Steve's broad shoulder. Steve quietly whimpers and pushes harder against Eddie's shirt as if to tear it off his body.
'Eddie', he whispers, licking his lips and Eddie just wants everything Steve is ready to offer.
'Ohhh okay, I think I'll leave you two alone', he hears the slightly panicked voice of Robin and then a door opening and closing.
Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie hears him. He keeps his eyes closed and just listens- to Steve grumbling to himself when his hair doesn’t sit quite right, who starts to hum and whisper some catchy song. Eddie turns his sleepy gaze onto Steve as he shuffles around their room- watching quietly as he slips on his clothes, his shoes, a simple chain with Eddie’s ring around his neck. A warm, affectionate smile breaks across his face. Before he leaves, Steve glances at what he expects to be a sleeping Eddie, but instead, he’s met with a rasped, ‘Hey.’ Eddie sits himself up, stretches his arm across Steve’s side of the bed, and reaches, fingers wiggling. Steve crosses the room to cradle his face.
Their foreheads press, noses bump, and Steve brushes his fingers across scars and dimples.
He breathes a quiet,
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’
Eddie huffs a tired laugh,
‘You know I never mind.’
Because, yeah.
Every morning Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie always hears him.
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