Steve stared at him, clearly unimpressed with his lack of response, “Is that it? Because I’d like this conversation to be over now. Good night.”
Then, he went to close the door in Eddie’s face. Something that even his tired reflexes wouldn’t let happen. He jammed his foot in the door, cursing when it got hit. But at least Steve didn’t push him back to try it again.
Eddie groaned as he braced his arms against the door frame, trying his damndest to get it together, “I don’t have a problem with it, Steve. I’m in the same boat. I’m just fucking exhausted and being a bitch. I’m sorry. I got no issue with what you do, just that we both got scammed into living here.”
“Admitting you scammed me in the same sentence is one hell of an apology,” Steve smirked. He let the door swing back open, his face downgraded from nuclear pissed to mildly amused.
“Well then I’m sorry for both,” Eddie sighed, “But if it helps I did get scammed first.”
“It does,” Steve laughed softly, “And I’m the one who should be sorry. I’ll figure something out, okay? No more late nights for you.”
“Thank you,” Eddie said, stepping back, “Now I’ll try to sleep for two hours before the bullshit of the day. G’night Steve.”
“Good night, Eddie.”
Eddie went back to bed feeling vaguely accomplished. That could have gone way worse. His first impression of Steve had trumped his second. He really was a sweet guy. A sweet guy who danced for tips at a gay club. A fact that Eddie was aware would haunt his perverted dreams down the line soon. How could he not fantasize about it? But outside of his fantasies, the information didn’t change anything. Not really. He was aware that he had no chance in hell with someone like that. The death of his crush was still legitimate, even if Steve would no doubt become a new guest in his wet dream roster.
That said, the added strength to his Steve related fantasies was enough to make him not nearly as rageful when he woke up an hour and a half later. Exhausted but hopeful that this really would be the last day he’d have to deal with working on four hours of sleep or less.
Eddie groaned as he stretched, frowning when he looked at the clock. He’d woken up before his alarm by a solid twenty minutes. A complete anomaly in his life. Then he realized that there was a smell in the air. One that was good enough to bring him back to the waking world.
Eddie yawned as he stumbled out of his room and into the kitchen. His brows raised to his hairline when he saw Steve standing at the stove, softly humming to himself while he stirred something in a pan.
“What are you doing up?” Eddie half-asked, half-slurred when he stepped into the room. From his experience in the past week anytime past seven a.m. meant Steve should have been dead to the world. Not smiling at him as he started to plate pancakes and sausage, coffee already on the table.
“I wanted to make the past few days up to you,” Steve said, gesturing for him to sit down.
Eddie did, vaguely wondering if he was still dreaming as Steve walked over.
“I’m not the best cook but I do know some of the basics,” Steve said as he put a plate in front of him, “I hope you like chocolate. I probably should have asked but I didn’t want to wake you.”
Eddie looked down at his plate. The pancakes had chocolate chip smiles. He didn’t even know they owned chocolate chips.
“I-thank you?” Eddie said, confused as he stared back up at Steve. He just smiled at him, settling at the table like nothing was amiss. Completely oblivious to how lost Eddie was. But Eddie wasn’t going to let food go to waste just because he didn’t know what was going on.
Of course it was delicious. Good enough for Eddie to immediately feel guilty.
“Aren’t you exhausted?” Eddie asked after a few bites.
Steve shrugged, gesturing in the air with his fork, “I can stomach being a little tired considering what I’ve been doing to you. Besides, I don’t even work today.”
“Still, you don’t need to prostrate yourself here,” Eddie said, “This is great and all but you’re already forgiven.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. Like that made any sense. But the food was too good for Eddie to argue. Instead he shut up and ate it, the two of them making small talk before it was time for him to rush out the door.
It was… nice. Nicer than Eddie had expected. Nice enough to almost make Eddie late to his appointment. He managed to barely get there on time, the exhaustion he should have felt quelled by the lingering good feelings.
By the time he got back to the apartment that afternoon Steve was out like a light, conked out on the sofa with his clothes on from the morning. Eddie couldn’t help but smile at the image. He really was something else. A total sweetheart when you got right down to it. Eddie could barely remember why he’d been mad in the first place, despite still living off of only a few hours of sleep.
It made Eddie want to make the morning up to him. Plus all of his awkward fumbling last night, he figured he at least owed the guy dinner. Even if the shit in the fridge wasn’t exactly stellar, he could come up with something.
Mac and cheese and cut up hot dogs was going to have to do to his chagrin. It was far from impressive but at least there was a positive side. It was a relatively quiet thing to make. Nott quiet enough to stop Eddie from peeking out into the living room as he worked, continually pleased to see Steve still stay fast asleep. He had no desire to wake him up yet. Not when he knew better than anyone how blissful undisturbed rest was.
It was kind of nice, cooking with the sound of Steve's even breathing in the background. Casual and calm.
It was nice enough to almost feel like he was coming home to someone. Like what he was doing mattered a little more than just a roommate cooking for the other. How easy it would be to think of the idea of more.
Eddie shoved that thought back, deciding that it was a touch too pathetic to already be playing house in his head with someone who was barely an acquaintance. They were roommates and that was all they were ever going to be.
Eddie walked over to him, gentle as he shook Steve’s shoulder, “Steve?”
It didn’t take long for Steve to open his eyes, groaning before he sat up, “What time is it?”
Eddie glanced at the wall clock, “Around sevenish-”
“Oh God,” Steve said, his eyes widening, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take up the whole living room. I swear I’m not usually this bad-”
“Whoa, calm down,” Eddie interrupted, putting his hands up. All traces of sleep were gone. Replaced with a manic panic that made Eddie's teeth itch. He didn’t enjoy seeing Steve so on edge, “I’m not mad at you, I just wanted to know if you're hungry.”
“Starving,” Steve confirmed, the tension leaving his body as quickly as it had come on. He followed Eddie to the kitchen, yawning as he sat down at the table.
“It’s a poor bitch meal,” Eddie warned before placing a bowl in front of him, “But food’s food right?”
“Exactly right,” Steve agreed. He sighed happily after his first bite, smiling at Eddie like he’d actually done something worthwhile here, “It's a great poor bitch meal, by the way.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Eddie said, smiling back at him.
He couldn’t look too long though. The bright smile Steve gave him was almost blinding. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with the guy? Was he a literal ray of sunshine or what?
Eddie stared down at his plate, keenly aware of the awkward energy in the air. He didn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t even know what they had in common to get a starting point going. So Eddie was opting for cowardly silence over bad small talk.
“So…” Steve started after a few minutes of quiet, “How was your day?”
“Fine,” Eddie tried, cringing internally at his lame answer. He swallowed, trying again, “I had an appointment in the morning that was a long one. Three hours of tattooing. She was a real trooper-”
“You’re a tattoo artist?” Steve interrupted, head cocked.
“An apprentice,” Eddie corrected, “For three more months. But yeah, more or less.”
“I was wondering if you were!” Steve said, gesturing up and down his body, “Since you’re covered in them. Don’t get me wrong, they look great. Did you do any yourself?”
Eddie hadn’t been expecting the excitement.
“A few,” He confirmed, rolling up his sleeve to point them out, “They’re all on my left arm, for obvious reasons.”
Steve scooted closer in record time, their thighs nearly pressed together in a matter of seconds. Luckily Steve was too busy staring at his arm to notice the blush crawling up Eddie’s neck.
“So, I uh did around three of them,” Eddie said, suddenly nervous, “The bats, the owl, and the crow. Then I added a few details to some others, here and there.”
“Wow,” Steve murumered, his eyes still focused on Eddie’s arm. He brought a hand up, hovering over the crow sitting on his bicep, “Can I…?”
“Sure,” Eddie said, genuinely proud of himself when his voice didn’t shake.
Steve touched him softly, his fingertips gently sweeping over the outline
“It’s so detailed,” He said, finally looking up at him, “It must have taken hours. How did you deal with the pain at the same time?”
Eddie shrugged, trying his damndest to look nonchalant despite the way his heart was beating out of his chest, “I’ve never minded pain much.”
“Is that so?” Steve hummed, his eyes back down to the ink, “Like the rough treatment a little, huh?”
Despite his herculean efforts to keep it cool, that sentence succeeded at turning Eddie’s brain into mush, “W-Well-I don’t mean it like-It’s not-”
“I’m just teasing,” Steve said softly, a smile on his lips at Eddie's complete and utter fumble, “I think it’s impressive. You’re really talented, you know that?”
Eddie swallowed roughly, feeling in real time as his once dead crush was fully revived with lightning fast speed, “Thank you.”
“Just calling it like I see it,” Steve sighed, sitting back. Eddie missed his touch in an instant. Steve went back to his plate, his elbow on the table and his head propped up in his hand as he looked at him, “So, how’d you get into art?”
Eddie told him. He probably told him a little too much. Like how he always loved it but was a little bit of a fuck up after he hit eighteen. How it took awhile to get his shit together enough to even think of the idea to be one, let alone the idea that he could actually do it. Eddie reeled it in a bit after that confession. Lest he found him self doing a whole trauma dump on the poor thing.
But he did get to learn a little about Steve in exchange. Or at least his better half. He gushed for a while about his best friend pursuing her Ph.D in linguistics, talking endlessly on how impressive she was to know more than one language, let alone study abroad to get her thesis going.
It was cute. And if Eddie didn’t know better he might have suspected that he was in love with the girl. A thought that Steve vehemently shut down, fake gagging and all.
“Legally it wouldn’t be incest,” He’d sighed, “But morally it would be. God would not smile upon that union.”
His seriousness had killed Eddie, sending him into a three-minute laughing fit that Steve joined in on. It was a good night. Fun. Maybe too fun. Fun enough for Eddie to have to continually remind himself to calm the fuck down when his mind started to wonder to other things. It was hard not too when the guy was so… special.
But not special enough for Eddie to lose his whole head over him.
Yet.
from this finished fic
@multidimensional-wavelength it is done! (For now! I might add an extra chapter for my egregious lateness!)
tag list from a month ago (my bad 😅)@faery-god @the-fatal-lozenge @nyeddleblog @my-love-of-books @awkwardgravity1 @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse
Because I know the struggle, for the WIP Weekend I’ll encourage some words on RVBB2
And since you can’t share from that, how about a little dancer Steve? 💜
Thanks for the encouragement! Any progress is good progress, right? 💜
Because the "dancer Steve" option got so much attention this weekend, I ended up actually writing a bit in that draft document, so it's no longer just general concept ideas and research links. This wouldn't be the beginning of the fic (unless I start here and then flashback to other stuff, hmm... decisions, decisions 🤔). Anyway, here it is 😄:
The floor was packed. Steve was glad he’d been warned about the potential for sticky floors beforehand as he could feel a bit of stickiness grip even his hard leather-soled shoes as he circled the periphery near the bar. He winced internally at the thought of how badly someone could hurt themselves if they tried to wear normal sneakers here. The last thing he needed was to add another injury to his growing list. The colors may have faded, but parts of his face and body still ached courtesy of his stay with the friendly, neighborhood Russians.
He’d planned to just observe from a corner for a few songs to get a feel things here, but someone calling his name loud enough to be heard over the music drew his attention to an area where more people were actively requesting dances from others and entering or exiting the floor. It was the girl from the other night. Now he felt bad that she clearly remembered his name, but he was drawing a complete blank.
As he started to move closer, she commanded him to “stay!” clearly thinking that his location was probably a better spot for socializing and migrated in his direction instead. To his surprise, she was dragging someone along behind her. Someone weirdly familiar.
By the time they were within earshot (well, shouting earshot anyway), Steve remembered where he’d seen that smirk before, and his stomach decided to try to claw its way out of his body with the intention of digging itself into the remnants of those creepy tunnels under Hawkins. It’s fine. It’s cool. He’s graduated now, he doesn’t care what anyone thinks. And this is informal, social dancing. That’s cool, not lame or old-fashioned. Besides, he’s here too, so…
Steve plastered on a confident smile as the girl (Molly? Melissa? Shit.), started the completely unnecessary introductions. “Ginger, this is Eddie. Eddie, Ginger.”
“Ginger? Why Ginger?” and “Oh my god! Stop calling me that,” were simultaneously shouted, the first in utter glee and the latter with embarrassed resignation.
Addressing Eddie, “Steve here is a ballroom dancer. He’s a little heavy with his leads and hasn’t quite figured out the elasticity of our kind of dancing yet, so I told him that I’d introduce him to some people that could help him figure things out a bit faster if I ran into him again. I’d offer myself, but I just know how to follow. You’re good at explaining things though!”
With that, nameless girl melted back into the crowd, probably because the songs were changing and someone had grabbed her attention for a dance.
As the two men stared at each other in shock for a few seconds, Steve wondered if it was too late to ask the government if he could go into witness protection.
“C’mon, Ginger. There’s a quieter spot in the next room with some space that we can use to see what you’ve got.”
If you want to send me an ask for WIP Weekend (or maybe WIP Wednesday, since the weekend's almost done now), feel free!
While I can't share the rvbb draft here yet, here's some info on the dancer steve file:
This is one of the "concept-stage" projects that could end up changing drastically if it ever turns into a proper draft. Mostly, I'm trying to decide whether to set it in the canon-universe of the 80s along with all the Upside Down insanity or to make it a modern AU.
Both versions would involve Steve having grown up as a ballroom kid--his mom was a professional dancer, and she dragged him to the studio when he was very young. He even had some success at junior competitions. However, as he got older, he realized that dancing wasn't considered cool by peers, so he was careful not to mention it at school and eventually quit entirely. I figure this would be around the early middle school years at a time when his mom may have retired allowing the Harrington's to relocate to Hawkins. The town, being so small, probably doesn't have its own studio. None of Steve's classmates in Hawkins would know about this part of his background. He might even play up having bad posture just so no one gets suspicious, but that eventually becomes a real habit--Steve kind of slouches in the show.
For the modern AU version, as an older teen/young adult, he may end up visiting Indy or Chicago either by himself or with Robin when they stumble on a bar that has a social dance night (or they have multiple different dance styles on different nights). Of course, Steve has no problem learning new styles and it becomes a weekly thing for him to make the trip. If it remains a gen or platonic Stobin fic, it would focus on Steve getting back in touch with a side of himself that he'd ignored for years. If it was a Steddie fic, Eddie might be dragged along at one point OR (and I'm leaning toward this second situation) it turns out that Eddie'd been going to the same place on their west coast swing nights (he originally got hooked by the blues music, but he has no problem with dancing to country or contemporary music, too). Surprise! Being set in the modern day, no one would bat an eye if they became regular partners.
If it's set in the 80s, I think I'd have him discover lindy hop when he's out social dancing because it was just starting to make a comeback at that time, though WCS would work as well. If he meets Eddie at these social dances and if I expanded the plot so that it became a pre-s4 AU, they'd keep their hobby secret from the Hawkins kids only for the events of s4 to show that the two are more in tune with each other than should make sense for relative strangers. The biggest thing that would worry me about setting the story in the past is that I would want to do a lot more research into how these dances were styled at the time since they've all evolved pretty significantly since the 80s.
Essentially, I just want an excuse to write Steve as a dancer 😆, and since my own experience is mostly with american and international ballroom dances plus WCS, that's what I'd be most comfortable writing about. I love ballet!Steve too, but I'd get the terminology all wrong, I'm sure 😂. Well, I'm equally apt to describe ballroom and WCS poorly, but it'll feel more familiar to me and I won't be looking things up every five seconds.
