Vecna is dead. The Upside Down is gone. A thing of the past, really. Except... it's not, of course it's not. Enough time goes by for things to start settling down. But. There's always a but.
Steve disappears and no one notices. But not because no one cared. It's not the case of Steve the Rich Jock. Of Steve the Friendless. Of Steve with Big House and No Parents.
No one notices because no one remembers him ever existing.
Robin feels like a part of her is missing, like there's an itch she can't quite scratch. Her shifts at the bookstore that she owns seem dull and her eyes keep sliding over to the doors like she's waiting for someone to enter. Her flat feels cold. There's an empty room across the hall.
There's a guy Eddie's kissing in the back alley and it makes him feel nothing at all. There's an S tattoed on his hip. He doesn't remember getting it. He must've been drunk. Or high. He keeps wondering why he stayed so close to Hawkins despite all the trouble it brought him. Must've been Wayne, even though his uncle has more than once declared himself ready to move on.
Dustin mourns an older brother he never had. He stylizes his hair but can't remember where he learnt it from when Suzie asks. The Scoops Troops has always been three people; him, and Erica, and Robin, but no, that doesn't sound right. How would they get past that one guard? And those demodogs in '84? Jonathan? Nancy? They were busy with Will, weren't they?
Nancy hates pools. She can't remember why. There was a party of some sort and Barb...Barb got sucked into the Hell that lives and breathes under Hawkins. But...why would they go to a party in the first place? It makes no sense.
And so on, and so on.
Until, one day, Eddie and Robin stumble upon an abondanoed car in the middle of a forgotten road by the forrest. Keys still inside. And a bat full of nails on the driver's seat.
Eddie chronically leaves his rings at Steve’s place to the point that Steve checks the bathroom and kitchen sink every time after he leaves, only to find one of them there every time.
Not that Steve is entirely complaining since this means he gets to call him and Eddie gets to stop by on his own to pick them up.
But when they’re at the Wheeler’s place, and Eddie says he’s going to the bathroom, Steve says, “Be careful not to leave one of your rings behind,” with a wink that has the kids exchanging confused looks. But Steve doesn’t notice because he’s too distracted by the light blush coloring Eddie’s cheeks.
“Why would Eddie leave one of his rings behind?” Dustin asks Steve when Eddie’s out of earshot.
Steve laughs. “He leaves one behind every time he washes his hands I swear. I don’t know how he hasn’t lost one at this point.” But his amusement is quick to die down when he realizes the kids are staring at him as if he’s absolutely insane. “What?”
They all glance at each other, and Steve is surprised when Mike is the first to pipe in, “He never leaves them anywhere. They’re like his prized possession. I’ve never even seen him take them off.”
Steve frowns and glances around at everyone, sensing that there’s definitely something he’s missing, so he’s quick to lie, “Well, I guess it was only once or twice that it happened. Maybe it was my fancy soap. Made things too… slippery.”
He gets a few eye rolls at the comment, but the group is quick to move on especially when Eddie comes back a few moments later with all his rings on his hands.
Steve gives him a quick smile, and Eddie is quick to return it, eyes lingering on him for a few seconds longer than necessary and the same blush from earlier returning.
It hits Steve very suddenly.
The rings are an excuse to come back.
And with this knowledge, Steve’s let’s his own gaze linger on Eddie longer than he usually allows, moving into his space more often than not, and carefully keeping track of time, waiting for the hang out to end.
When it finally comes to a halt, Steve is quick to say his goodbyes, hoping that Eddie will join and let the kids have their unnecessarily prolonged goodbyes in private. And luckily, Eddie is quick to move out of the basement, following after Steve in a way that’s supposed to look causal but is anything but casual now that Steve knows to look for the signs.
When he and Eddie silently go out the front door, Steve is quick to turn to him and hold out his hand. Eddie gives him a confused look but offers his hand which Steve takes and slides one of the rings off of.
Eddie stares at it for a moment, looking slightly frightened, as if he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.
Steve is quick to soothe the fear as he pockets the ring and says, “Just so you’ll have an excuse to stop by later tonight.”
Eddie’s cheeks flush bright red and he runs a hand over his face. “Shit.”
Steve laughs, “So it has been on purpose?”
“No,” Eddie clearly lies, pulling a strand of hair in front of his face.
“And what if I told you I wanted it to be on purpose?” Steve asks.
Eddie freezes for a moment as if he’s waiting for Steve to tell him that he’s joking, but Steve sits in the silence, letting the question settle between them.
“Then,” Eddie starts, taking a small step forward into Steve’s space, “I would-”
The door behind them bursts open and Dustin yells, “Hurry up I have a curfew!” as he races off to Steve’s car.
Steve rolls his eyes at the kid and takes a step back as everyone else makes their way out the door to the cars or their bikes.
Steve and Eddie linger behind for a moment, which Steve uses to quietly ask, “I’ll see you tonight?”
Eddie gives him a bashful smile in return and nods. “Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.”
Steve resists the urge to celebrate in any way in front of the kids and instead puts his hand in his pocket, fingers curling around Eddie’s ring.
As he gets into his car, ignoring Dustin bitching and complaining, he slips the ring over his finger and smiles at it.
He notices the car go quiet and he nearly groans at his mistake.
“Is that Eddie’s ring?” Dustin screeches.
It’s going to be a long drive home, but Steve doesn’t mind when he has Eddie to look forward to.
Stobin going to pretentious fancy restaurants on valentines day to stage elaborate messy public arguments. They compete every year to see which one of them can come up with the most out of pocket shit to accuse the other of.
Robin usually has a better storyline planned but Steve can cry on command and it usually wins him the fights because he'll get sympathy support from nearby tables.
I was at Costco yesterday and I walked by a man chanting under his breath to himself very intensely, "I'm not a homewrecker. I'm not a homewrecker. I'M NOT A HOMEWRECKER."
It felt like too unique of an experience for me not to steddify it immediately.
Anyways, Eddie sees Steve and Robin at the grocery store and assumes they're together because they're sharing a cart and bickering over their household groceries like a married couple, but he still finds Steve so attractive.
Steve catches him staring and throws him a flirty wink and a cute little finger wiggle back.
Which causes Eddie to sprint away, verbally reminding himself that he cannot hit on taken men, much to Steve and Robin’s great amusement.
Eddie stares deep into the freezer full of frozen vegetables, cold air stinging his skin, and pretends to be enchanted by the bag of peas in front of his face, because hot guy and his wife are making their way down the aisle behind him and Eddie is NOT a homewrecker, goddamn it—flirty, perfect smile be damned.
"Steve," hot guy's wife says, loudly. Eddie curls further into the frozen vegetable shelf in front of him.
"Steve, my BEST, most PLATONIC friend," says hot guy's not-wife. Eddie straightens back up instantly. His forehead clips the shelf and he struggles to catch the falling bags.
"Steve, my very BISEXUAL friend, what would you do if a guy asked you out, right now, this second, in this frozen food section?"
"Well," says hot guy Steve. "That would depend, Robin, my very lesbian, platonic best friend."
"On what?" asks hot guy's not-wife lesbian best friend, Robin. They're passing directly behind Eddie now, strolling by at a glacial pace.
"For starters, does this guy have long brown hair?"
Eddie has long brown hair.
"He does!" crows not-wife Robin.
"How about some tattoos? This guy has to have a tattoo or twenty."
Eddie has thirty-two tattoos. More has to be better, right?
"Oh, absolutely," platonic best friend Robin says. Eddie peeks at them through his hair, and not-wife Robin is nodding sagely. "Definitely has those too."
"Well, how about a leather jacket? Maybe a few rips in his jeans? I think maybe a denim vest too, with some patches."
Holy shit.
"Yeah, yeah!" lesbian Robin says enthusiastically. "What would you do if a guy like that were to ask you out right now?"
"Oh, a guy like that?" hot guy Steve hums, pretending to think. Eddie's openly staring now, leaning all the way out of the door of the freezer, hanging on every word. "I would get on my knees for him, obviously—"
Eddie's already moved and slammed his hand on the freezer door over Steve's shoulder. The smile on his face feels a little maniacal, but hot guy Steve doesn't seem put off. In fact, he seems to be entirely smug about this turn of events, even as his not-wife Robin is jogging away with their cart, cackling.
"Hi," says hot guy Steve. "Did you have a question?"
Imagine if Corroded Coffin got popular and over the years they released a shit ton of music. But one year they came out with a metal Christmas album. All of the songs going hard and exactly what everyone expected. Except, the last song was Not metal.
The cover of Santa Baby was more stripped down then the rest and Eddie put so much sexual tension in his singing that everyone is freaking out about it. He doesn't change the words of the song and people just think it's his dramatics.
But then they post a music video for Santa Baby. And instead of one of the Corroded Coffin boys in the Santa outfit, it's some guy no one recognizes. Eddie dances around the guy, and it's the gayest thing anyone's seen.
And well, only their close family recognize it as Steve, Eddie's (illegal) husband.n
@eddiemonth prompt, oct 30th: Costumes | Children of the Grave - Black Sabbath | Loyal [1.9k, rated T]
read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist
“No, no, no, no—” Gareth protests, ducking the Donkey costume mask that Eddie tosses his way backstage. “Not again! Dude, that thing smells like having a condom over your face and it’s impossible to drum in. I’m not doing it this year. No way. Someone else is taking one for the team this time.”
Eddie cackles, trying not to cry with laughter and smudge his green face paint. “Decide amongst yourselves then, but someone is wearing it. We’ve gotta commit.”
Jeff snorts and shakes his head. “No chance, why can’t someone be like, Fiona or something?”
“We need Donkey! He’s crucial to the story!” Eddie rolls his eyes and walks over to grab the mask. “Okay, circle up. We’re gonna Rock, Paper, Scissors this. On my count.”
The rest of the band huddles around and Eddie counts to three. Gareth throws rock and celebrates as Frank and Jeff both throw scissors.
“Redemption!” He celebrates as Eddie counts Frank and Jeff in for three.
In the end, Frank gets stuck with the Donkey costume, Jeff reprises his Pinocchio costume, and Gareth steals Farquaad out from under Frank in the Rock, Paper, Scissors coup. No one is particularly happy, but Eddie doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care because Shrek Night is his favorite show of the year. Since its inception a few years earlier, entirely by accident when Eddie was forced to perform as Shrek as a dare, it’s become something of a cult classic among Corroded Coffin fans. The last show they play before Halloween is a costume night, and the fans have taken to the theme like, well, like an ogre to mud.
There’s something incredibly special about screaming the lyrics to their latest hit while a sea of Shreks and Gingys and Fionas scream along with him.
And tonight is no different.
—
“Shreddie! Shreddie! Shreddie!”
The crowd roars to life as the group takes the stage, waddling in costumes and maybe a little itchy from body paint and latex masks.
“Give it up for Donkey on the bass!” Eddie shouts, pointing to Frank. He gives his best, saddest wave.
“Give it up for Pinocchio on the guitar!” He yells again as Jeff hammers a riff in response and grins in his fedora and suspenders.
“And last but certainly not least, give it up for Lord Farquaad on the drums!” Gareth drums a little rimshot as the hat pokes out over the top of his high hat. How he plans on drumming the whole night crouched on his knees is beyond Eddie, but ultimately not up to him.
The crowd goes insane, as usual, and Eddie takes a second to soak it all in, to glance over the various costumes before everyone melds into one collective unit of chaos. Fairy Godmothers, and Donkeys, and Fionas as far as the eye can see. He even spots a Puss in Boots in the front of the pit, standing next to a very attractive Gingy.
He doesn’t have time to assess the life choices that lead him to have that particular thought though, because Gareth starts counting them in.
—
Their originals are hits, of course, as are the covers. After all, it wouldn’t be a true Shrek Night without at least a couple of songs from the famed movies.
“And then I saw her face!” He shrieks, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “Now I’m a believer!”
He runs around the stage, careful not to lose the microphone (again) as Jeff, Gareth, and Frank pound away at the melody. As the song comes to a close, Eddie slides on his knees, hardly protected by the cheap beige pants from Walmart, to the edge of the stage.
“Not a trace! Of doubt in my mind! I’m a believer!” He sings, drawing out the final note.
Chants and applause follow him up and he falls to his back, guitar over his chest, pounding his feet and fists on the stage as he catches his breath. Green paint melts from his forehead and when he brushes his hair back, he pulls his fingers away to see shades of ogre paint that’s surely made its way into his hairline.
Before he can stand, Gareth shouts into his microphone, presumably to give Eddie another second or two. It’s no secret that I’m A Believer is high octane.
“Do you know…” Gareth pauses for effect before shouting. “The muffin man?”
Before the crowd yells out together, jumbled and out of sync, a faux high-pitched voice rings out surprisingly close to Eddie’s feet.
“The muffin man!”
He sits up and spots him: the hot Gingy he’d noticed earlier, laughing with a scrunched up nose, leaning on his friend’s shoulder.
Oh, fuck me, Eddie thinks. He’s adorable.
It’s usually the other way around: Eddie being ogled by a fan in the front row, staring up at him like he’s something to eat, like he’s prey. Ignoring them is easy enough, typically appeased with just a smile or a wink to carry with them forever, but this guy? The one with the fuzzy brown onesie with purple button and white, pretend icing lining the legs and waist? Well, Eddie’s never actually wanted a fan in the front row to look at him until now.
So he scoots to the end of the stage, legs dangling over the edge, and steals Gareth’s line. Grinning down at the guy pressed to the railing, he screeches. “The muffin man!”
Gingy’s friend, known only to him at this point as Puss in Boots, elbows him hard in the ribs and he looks up to see Eddie staring right at him, crooked grin, and in hindsight, probably a bit more unhinged than planned.
His friend looks back and forth between them, disbelief in the shape of her mouth and furrowed forehead, but it seems to work because Gingy returns the smile and has the audacity to wink at him.
Eddie raises his green brows towards his hairline and nods appreciatively. The barricade isn’t far from the edge of the stage, close enough for Eddie to leave the microphone to the side and ask Gingy and his friend to hang back after the show.
—
After one crowdsurfing escapade from Jeff, one quip into the microphone from Gareth about how he now understands why Farquaad is always so cranky, and few more of the originals peppered with All Star and Bad Reputation covers, Corroded Coffin takes an awkward but well-deserved bow. The crowd cheers for more, even after their encore, but eventually filter out through the venue’s exit doors, flooding the parking lots and nearby streets with Shrek characters.
Eddie’s sure the local bars are having a blast.
The only fans left are Gingy and Puss in Boots, who Eddie desperately needs the real names of before his thoughts turn into a troubling Shrek fanfiction. With a quick word to their manager, Chrissy, he makes sure they won’t leave before he comes back with a plan— a very weird, very niche plan that he hopes works on the presumably dorky, albeit confident, man in the fuzzy onesie.
Her wings bump him in the shoulder and remind him that she truly is his Fairy Godmother.
“Eddie,” Jeff deadpans as he plops his prop fedora on the backstage table and unfastens the buttons of his suspenders. “Are you really about to go hit on a fan? Dressed as Shrek? With an onion?”
“Do you have a better idea?” He whirls on him, a lone onion from a backstage fridge somewhere in one hand and a sponge trying to at least clean up his face paint in the other. He’s sure he looks insane. And he may as well be at this point.
“Uh, don’t? That’s the better idea?” Frank offers in the corner, his face red and sweaty from the suffocating Donkey mask.
“Not an option, so Operation Onion is on. I’ll be back. Or not. Hopefully not, actually.” Eddie shakes his head and sets down the makeup sponge, places the onion in his prop burlap bag. “Wish me luck!”
Gareth sighs with ice packs on his knees. “Nope.”
—
Eddie approaches the open backstage area, the spare lounge where Chrissy’s talking with Gingy and Puss in Boots. Maybe talking a little more intently to Puss in Boots, but he can’t begrudge her. After all, Eddie’s doing the same thing, isn’t he?
He catches a bit of the conversation before opening the door, overhearing Chrissy refer to them as Steve and Robin.
Thank God, he thinks to himself. Better than the placeholders.
By no means does Eddie consider himself a rockstar— not yet, anyways. He enjoys the mid-level shows he gets to do with his friends, especially on nights like this, but he’s yet to harness that rockstar swagger. At his core, he’s still the marginally insecure, frantic kid from Bumfuck Nowhere, Indiana who paints D&D miniatures and speaks Elvish. And dresses up as Shrek, apparently.
All of that to say, his heart pounds in his chest and his tongue feels twisted around itself when he knocks on the door.
“Oh, hey, Eddie! Come on in! Great show tonight!” Chrissy smiles, wide and bright, as she introduces Steve and Robin. “This is Steve, and this is Robin. Steve, Robin, you all know Eddie. Or, should I say, Shreddie?”
All three groan and shake their heads in good nature.
“To be fair, man, you are still in the get-up. I thought you were going backstage to change or something.” Steve teases, eyes full of mirth and challenge.
Exactly Eddie’s type.
“And leave the three of you dressed up and feel out of place? Not a fucking chance.” Eddie takes a breath and goes for it, channeling his years of drama and general theatrics.
He goes to take his seat on the sofa and pretends to trip, his burlap bag tipping over in time for his onion to fall to the floor at Steve’s feet.
“Shit, sorry, that’s my onion,” Eddie shrugs. “Happens sometimes. Ogre and all, y’know? By the way, you’re gorgeous.”
“Oh my God,” Chrissy mutters under her breath and ducks her head, leaning an elbow on Robin’s shoulder and covering her eyes.
Steve’s mouth falls open into a little O and sits quietly for a few beats, nothing but the girls chuckling off to the side and an onion between them. Eddie’s about to swallow his tongue and see himself out when Steve leans forward and picks it up, tossing it up in the air above his head and catching it like a baseball.
“Looks like you dropped this. And uh, thanks. I could say the same to you.”
Robin wheezes and doubles over. “Jesus Christ, Steve. I know I’m a lesbian and all but this? This is what works on you?”
Eddie likes her already, and a quick glance to Chrissy tells him Chrissy does, too.
“Is this Ogre discrimination? Do I have to explain that we have—”
“Layers!” Steve finishes for him, nudging her in the ribs. “Ogres have layers, Rob. Don’t be so close-minded, God. Besides, he’s half melted and just ransacked backstage for an onion. Don’t judge our mating rituals.”
Mating rituals? Eddie grins with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. “Yeah, what he said.”
Robin just shakes her head and gestures with one hand at the air between the two men, speechless.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go see if this sweaty, half-melted, babbling Onion Man wants to make out or something.” Steve slaps his hands on his thighs, still covered in fuzzy material, and stands. “What do you say?”
When he shows up backstage to introduce Steve to the rest of Corroded Coffin, both of their faces are now smeared with green paint and Steve sports painted handprints in some telling places.
Eddie gives them a bright smile and jazz hands, his friends’ expressions are as impressed as they are confused.
Shrek Night really is his favorite show of the year.
tagging people who expressed interest <3: @cuips-not-cute @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @useless-nb-bisexual @kkpwnall@cuoredimuschio @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly@ohmagicalunicornlord @hellion-child @bxnsheeslxdia @pomegranatebb @vampeddie @horsegirleddiemunson @stobinesque @sidekick-hero @medusapelagia @slipperygiraff @epiclazershark @bayouteche
thank you to @nostalgicbones for beta-reading and inspiring this!
Steve sprints off down the hall, making a sharp left turn in hopes of losing him. He looks around at the doors, eyes settling on the drama room. Yeah, no one would guess that he would go in there.
He runs and easily pulls the door open, softly closing it behind him, leaning against the door to listen for Billy.
"You can't run from me!" he yells, somewhere outside in the hallway.
Shit.
Steve backs up a bit until he runs into something, and suddenly there's a hand covering his mouth with rings digging into his cheek while a bit of silver glints in his eyes. "Don't freak out, Harrington. I'm here to help. Hide behind the red curtain."
The guy lets him go, and Steve whips around taking in the guy everyone calls "The Freak." He just raises his eyebrows at him, so Steve takes the hint and darts behind the red curtains behind a throne of some kind.
There's a slight creaking, then Steve hears the door swing open and slam against the wall.
"Billy Hargrove. I didn't know you were interested in theatre," the freak says smugly. Eddie? That's his name, right?
"I'm not," Billy grits out. "I'm looking for Harrington. Seen him anywhere, freak?"
"Why would he be in here?"
Steve hears heavy footsteps as he walks closer to the curtain. "That's not what I asked," Billy says darkly.
"Well, I answered, didn't I?" Eddie replies, voice low with an undertone of danger. Shit, Steve didn't know he had it in him. "If you're so dense, then let me clarify. I haven't seen him. Now get lost or you'll never find him before lunch is over."
There's a pause, and Steve is certain that a fight is about to break out. Only, nothing really happens until Billy says, "One day you're going to pay for that, freak."
"Looking forward to it," Eddie says sarcastically.
A few seconds later and the door closes. There's a click that sounds like the lock turning which has Steve peeking out of the curtain.
"You can come out now."
Steve steps outside the curtain slowly, making sure this isn't some sort of sick joke. But he doesn't think Billy is that much of a planner, he's too impulsive.
When he doesn't spot him, Steve says, "Thanks. It's Eddie, right?"
The other boy looks surprised and even gets a small smile on his face. "Yeah."
"I'm Steve," he introduces himself, sticking out his hand and everything.
He gets a scoff and a, "Yeah, I know," in response, but Eddie still takes his hand and shakes it.
"I like your rings," Steve says genuinely. They're cool really. He wishes he would wear something like that without his parents and teammates getting onto him about it.
"Thanks," Eddie says, pulling a bit of his hair in front of his hair. It's cute really, almost like he's flustered.
Huh. He'll unpack that thought later.
"How did you get Billy to back off like that? I've never seen anyone do that." He can't help but be in a bit of awe about the whole thing.
Eddie chuckles. "I supply his weed. He knows better than to hurt me."
"Mabe I should start selling him weed then."
Eddie laughs loudly, showing off his dimples. Steve can't help but smile back.
"Hey," Eddie says, making his way to the throne and sitting back. "What did you do to get him that riled up anyways?"
Steve groans and takes a seat at the table in front of Eddie. "I know his little sister, Max. I just asked him how she was doing, and he freaked out. I think he misunderstood my tone."
Eddie laughs again, and Steve starts to believe that maybe the whole thing was worth it to see the boy's smile.
A silence settles between them, but Steve doesn't mind. It gives him a chance to look at him more.
It must fluster Eddie again because he ducks his head down and shakes his head.
"What?" Steve can't help but ask.
Eddie looks back at him. "Nothing, I just can't believe that Steve Harrington is sitting at my D and D table."
D&D... "Oh, that's like Dungeons and Dragons, right?"
Eddie's jaw drops. "You know what Dungeons and Dragons is?"
Steve shrugs. "My friend plays it, but he's in middle school, so you wouldn't know him. But hey, that's where the demogorgan thing comes from, right?"
Eddie continues to stare at him in disbelief mumbling something under his breath like He's friends with middle schoolers, and he knows what a demogorgan is. What the hell? Am I dreaming? He shakes his head and says clearly, "Yeah, yeah, that's where the Demogorgan comes from."
Another silence settles between them, and Steve doesn't know why he says it but he asks, "So, do you have a girlfriend?"
Once again, it looks like Eddie is about to have a meltdown, but Steve stands his ground. He's curious really.
Eddie shifts in his seat a bit uncomfortably before quietly asking, "Haven't you heard the rumors?"
Steve leans back in his seat and scratches his face absentmindedly. He's heard about "The Freak" before, but he didn't really pay much attention. He knows he sells weed. He failed senior year once or twice, he forgot how many times people said. And he once heard that he's a...
Oh.
"So, do you have a boyfriend then?"
Eddie freezes, fear evident all over his tense body.
"It's fine if you do," Steve assures him.
Eddie runs both his hands over his face and questions out loud, "Am I dreaming?"
"Do you dream about me often?" Steve flirts, leaning forward on the table. He can't help it, he likes how affected Eddie is by him.
Eddie looks at him for a solid fifteen seconds, tongue running over his top lip and brows furrowed in deep thought. He relaxes against his chair with a sigh. "You're not at all what people say you are."
Steve shrugs, uncomfortable that the topic has turned to be about him. "I try not to be."
"It's a good thing," Eddie says.
Steve smiles. He didn't know how much he needed to hear that.
The bell rings, and Steve feels a pang of disappointment.
"Hey," Eddie says as he stands up alongside Steve. He reaches into his black metal lunchbox and pulls out a sandwich in a little bag and a banana. He tears the sandwich in half and offers it to Steve along with the banana. "It isn't much, but I doubt you ate lunch. Have to keep all our star players in shape, right?" he asks with a wink.
Steve wishes he could stay longer to see him relax more. He takes them both, unpeeling the banana quickly while asking, "Is that weed in there?"
"Among other things."
Steve laughs and takes a large bite of the banana that has Eddie looking away, turning a light shade of red. Now he really wishes he could stay longer.
He finishes his bite and says, "Hey, it was really nice to meet you by the way."
"You too," Eddie says with a soft smile, finally looking back at him.
The warning bell rings.
Steve sighs. "I'll see you around, and hey, pass on a word to the next D and D leader about Dustin Henderson, will you?"
"Will do," Eddie says, and Steve's glad that it sounds like a promise.
He heads to the door and unlocks it quickly, pausing to rush back and press a soft kiss on Eddie's cheek. "Thank you again," he says before rushing out of the room with his heart pounding and a blush spreading over his face.
He can't help but think that he should thank Billy for being such an asshole.
Steve Harrington my favorite head empty no thoughts himbo, you would most definitely assume that your fellow queer friends knew you liked both. No need to come out to them, they obviously know. That’s why they are so comfortable with him, right? Like he doesn’t want to shout it from the rooftops because it’s obviously not safe, but surely Robin and Eddie can sense him from a mile away? They don’t need to worry about him at this gay bar. Wait—why are they so shocked that he just made out with a guy on the dance floor?
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