The Wrong (Right) Idea
AO3 | @steddiebingo hop into spring 2026 prompt: sunshine | rating: m | wc: 2.1k | cw: making out with light dom/sub undertones | tags: post s4; pre-relationship; flirting; getting together; teasing; making out | masterlist
Tonight’s the night, Steve’s decided.
They’re sprawled around the fire pit. Splotches of water dot the concrete around the pool. Some discarded floats bob in the water, others lay half-deflated on the grass. The crackling of the fire merges with the chirping of crickets and cicadas. Smoke swirls around them, carries itself up into the fraying edges of sunlight.
There are at least 3 conversations happening.
Steve’s swim trunks sit half-damp on his waist.
Wood smoke fills his nose.
Weed smoke fills his lungs.
There’s a laundry list of things to focus on.
But, his vision stays locked on Eddie.
Eddie, standing across the fire, handing off a freshly packed bowl to Jonathan.
Eddie, despite the burning edges of summer, wrapped in black, like it’s painted on his skin – black trunks, black ripped henley, black shades, black beanie. Something about it all driving Steve fucking insane.
Eddie, who catches Steve staring and fucking winks.
Steve blinks away, takes a drag of his cigarette, tries to tune back in to whatever Robin and Nancy are talking about, but he only half hears something about Shakespeare? And sonnets?
He chooses to ignore that conversation by excusing himself to go get more drinks for the cooler.
As he stands, Steve deliberately takes his time to stretch his arms behind his head, leans to each side. Concertedly groans at the effort.
Avoids looking at Eddie entirely.
Instead, leans back over his chair, one knee propped on the seat, maybe sticking his ass up a bit as he grabs his purposefully-left-on-the-ground cup between his and Robin’s chair, makes sure to crack a joke and laugh before finally stepping back and slowly sauntering to the house.
Once inside, Steve props himself against the sink, slowly washes out his cup. Takes care to wash the fireside grime off his hands.
And waits.
It’s just as he’s shutting the sink off that the door slides open and shut behind him.
He bites his lip, tries hard to suppress a grin.
Bingo.
Tobacco and weed and the crackling edges of fire flood his senses, coating his whole body in warmth.
Fingers trace up the backs of his arms causing goosebumps to pebble across his skin. Hot breath ghosts across his ear, sending a shiver cascading through his body.
“Hey, sunshine.”
Steve swallows. Levels his voice. “Need something, Eddie?”
A low, husky laugh slips between his ribs. “You have no idea.”
Steve feels like he has a pretty good idea, actually.
Eddie, on the other hand – well, Steve’s got a feeling Eddie has no idea what’s coming.
Steve keeps his jaw locked, fingers curling around the edge of the counter, heart pounding way too hard to be normal or healthy, which is, like, the normal for him around Eddie at this point.
Eddie’s fingers skim down Steve’s side, slip just beneath the waistband of his trunks, scratch lightly against his hip. Steve can’t suppress the shiver that courses through his body – something Eddie drinks up hungrily if the low groan he lets out is anything to go by.
“Saw you checkin’ me out, big boy.” His fingers pull the band of Steve’s trunks out a few inches. “Like what you see?” He lets go, the snapping against Steve’s waist reverberating through the quiet kitchen.
Christ.
“You wish, Munson.”
“Oh, I wish a lot of things, sweetheart. You dripping in these little shorts is just one of them.”
Eddie honest-to-god nips at Steve’s shoulder before stepping back and walking over to the fridge.
Fucking hell.
“You got any more sodas in here? Or garage?”
Steve’s brain is still reeling over the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his skin. He’s about two seconds away from pushing Eddie back against the counter and leaving his own kind of brand. But, his plan is to wait til everyone leaves.
Or at least try to wait.
Eddie snaps his fingers. “Hello? Earth to Harrington?”
“Uh – yeah, sorry. Sodas. They’re, uh –” Steve points to the door. “The garage. Garage fridge.”
“Gotcha.” Eddie backsteps in that direction. “Give me a hand?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“So, can you believe that story Jonathan was telling?”
Steve falters as they step out into the garage. “Uh, what story exactly?”
Eddie doesn’t miss a beat – just barrels on, slips in the extra details to catch Steve up on what sounds like an extremely convoluted story involving Jonathan, Argyle, an ounce of weed, and – “Wait, did you say–”
“A set of bowling pins and a ball from the alley downtown?” Eddie turns, leans back against the fridge. “Yes, yes I did.”
“What the fuck.” Steve laughs. “How did they even get those? Mr. Parker wouldn’t even let me take a single pin for a school project back in middle school.”
“What were you doing making a school project involving bowling pins?”
“Bowling pin.” Steve holds up one finger. “Just one. Singular.”
“Okay, what were you doing making a school project involving a bowling pin?” Eddie holds up one finger. “Just one. Singular.”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
“Oh, I’m hilarious, I know.”
“Truly.”
“Why did you need the bowling pin?”
“Not important.”
“Oh, it is so important.”
“No, what’s important is how the hell Jonathan managed to get a whole set off Parker’s stingy ass.”
“Maybe he copied the ol’ Harrington charm.” Eddie grins, wiggles his eyebrows.
“God, let’s hope not. Unless he wants to be going on a date with old Parker, that is.”
“Hey, you never know. Love knows no bounds.”
Steve shrugs. “Yeah, well, pretty sure Mrs. Parker would kill him before he even got the chance.”
Eddie laughs, head thrown back, the expanse of his neck like a beacon to Steve to kiss suck bite. “Yeah, okay, fair. I feel part of my nonexistent soul die every time she glares at me across the counter.”
“She has that effect.”
“Yeah, one time she –” The rest of it is drowned out in Steve’s brain as Eddie stretches, the movement peeling up the bottom of his henley, exposing a delicious thin strip of skin that Steve wants desperately to devour.
And then Steve grins as an idea hits him.
He cocks his head, steps forward. “Hey, Eds, is that –”
Eddie blinks, looks down. “What?”
Steve steps even closer, slightly bent at the waist, eyes squinted at Eddie’s waistline. “I thought I saw –” Then, he stands, shakes his hand flippantly. “It’s probably nothing.”
“Hey, no, no, no.” Eddie steps forward, shakes his head. “Nuh uh. You don’t get to do that.”
“What?”
“‘What’ he says.” Eddie scoffs. “You don’t get to be all pointing and saying ‘oh, what’s that’ and then not following through.”
Steve laughs. “Dude, it’s probably nothing, like I said. I just thought I saw something weird on one of your tattoos for a second. It’s–”
And then, in one fluid motion, Eddie peels off his shirt, throws it directly at Steve’s face.
“What? What’s on what tattoo?”
Steve blinks, the impact of suddenly-shirtless-Eddie frying every nerve in his body.
“Stevie, sweetheart, you’re killing me here.”
“Eds, it’s fine, I –”
“Steve Harrington, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong with my tattoos within the next 5 seconds, I will die.”
“You will not.”
“Okay, well, I’ll be really upset and paranoid the rest of the day because my best friend said he thought he saw something and then waltzed away like it was nothing.”
“I did not waltz.”
“Unimportant.” Eddie’s eyes search out Steve’s own, brows pleading. “Now, can you please tell me if there is or is not something actually wrong before I pass out?”
Steve sighs, the sound heavy like this is the most cumbersome task in the world. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
Steve waves his hand around. “Turn for me.”
Eddie turns in the only way he knows how – too fast and stumbling over his own feet.
Steve raises a brow. “Okay, now turn for me like you actually want me to look at your tattoos and tell you if they’re okay or not.”
Eddie huffs out a breath, mutters to himself, then slowly starts turning.
“Arms up for me?”
Eddie quickly lifts his arms, continues his slow twirl.
So, Steve props back against the wall, and stares. He greedily drinks in the expanse of Eddie’s body, eyes tracing over the tattoos covering nearly every inch of skin. Fingers aching to trace over every single line. Desperate to kiss his way down Eddie’s happy trail. His resolve shredding thinner by the second.
“You know,” Eddie stops once he’s facing Steve again. “You keep looking at a guy like that, Harrington, he might get the wrong idea.”
Steve looks Eddie dead in the eye and smirks. “Well, what if it’s the right idea?”
Eddie full-on freezes. “What?”
Now or never, Steve thinks.
So, he steps forward. Pushes Eddie gently back against the counter by the fridge. Brackets him there.
“Okay, um,” Eddie’s eyes are saucer wide. “Am I hallucinating?”
“You tell me.”
Steve leans forward, breath ghosting hot across Eddie’s neck.
Eddie whimpers. “Oh my god.”
“I’m just trying to make sure your tattoos are okay, Eds. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yeah, yep, yes – that –”
Steve traces a line of featherlight kisses from one shoulder, across Eddie’s sternum, and down the other shoulder. “Mm, these tattoos seem alright.”
“Fuck.”
“Should I check the rest?”
Eddie nods his head vigorously. “God, fuck, yes. Do whatever you want, Stevie.”
Steve smirks. Licks a hot stripe up Eddie’s neck, nips at his ear. He drops his voice low. “You sure you wanna give me that kind of power, baby?”
Eddie’s knees honest-to-god buckle, the only thing holding him upright being the hard line of Steve’s body pressed against him.
“Easy there, baby. Can’t have you falling for me that easily, now can I?”
“Oh, fuck. Am I – is this real? Am I dreaming? God – this must be a dream.”
“Aw, you dream about me, baby? How sweet.” Steve kisses his way down Eddie’s collarbone, traces across the wings of the dragon splayed across Eddie’s pecs. His teeth and tongue trading places as he works his way across. “Think this one’s alright.”
“Fuck.”
“Think I need to adjust so I can get to ‘em all, don’t you?”
“I – uh–”
“Gonna need you to hold yourself up for me. Can you do that for me, baby?”
Eddie nods. “Fuck, yes. Yes.”
“Good boy.”
“Oh, fuck.” Eddie nearly collapses, Steve’s hands on his waist holding him hard against the counter.
Steve tsks. “You gotta hold yourself up, baby. I gotta finish checking everywhere. Okay?”
Eddie nods, grips the counter tighter. “Yeah. Yep. ‘m sorry.”
“It’s okay, baby.” Steve kisses the hollow of Eddie’s throat. Then, he kneels, trails his fingers down to rest on Eddie’s waist, his lips ghosting across Eddie’s stomach, tracing the paths of every single tattoo.
Eddie looks down in pure awe. Pupils blown out, breathing erratic, legs unsteady. Murmuring shakily the entire time.
Now Steve feels like the one who might pass out.
“Guess I was wrong after all. They all seem fine.” Steve rubs soothing patterns down Eddie’s waist and thighs. “Sorry to worry you, baby.”
Eddie chuckles, the sound a touch (a lot) breathless. “No need to be sorry, sweetheart. Never need to be sorry for this.”
Steve grins. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What about…” Steve stands, trails soft fingers up Eddie’s chest, one snaking up into his hair, the other resting on his cheek. “This?”
“Uh, nope. No. This is – this is fine. Great. Fantastic, I mean. So good.”
“Yeah?”
Eddie nods. “God, yes.”
Steve takes a deep breath. Prepares to jump off the point of no return. “And if I did this?”
He leans in, presses shaky lips on Eddie’s cheek, feels the hitch of Eddie’s breath.
“Or this?” Steve kisses up to the edge of Eddie’s mouth, then swaps to the other cheek and repeats the same process. Every whimper and groan Eddie lets loose burrows deep in Steve’s chest.
Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s, leans forward so their mouths are barely an inch apart, the heat of their erratic breathing mingling, their lips ghosting each other every few breaths.
“Please, please tell me this isn’t a dream.” Eddie whispers.
Steve swallows, rests his hands on Eddie’s waist. “Can be as real as you want it to be, baby.”
Which must have been the right thing to say because now the only thing Steve can register is the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his.
Eddie is kissing him.
Eddie is kissing him.
Steve full on groans into the kiss, immediately pulls Eddie flush against him with one hand, the other threading through Eddie’s hair, tugging slightly at the roots – an action that causes Eddie to moan into Steve’s mouth.
Yeah, Steve just found his new favorite sound.
His new favorite everything, really, because now that he’s tasted Eddie, he’s not letting go.
“Yeah, we’re not getting any more drinks for at least another hour.” Robin shuts the patio door, slides a table in front of it. And a chair. And a second chair. And a –
“Are they –”
Robin vigorously shakes her head. “Do not finish that question.”
taglist (open):@sunshine-daydreams0809@saramelaniemoon@probablyin-bed@bookworm0690@watermelonmite@sanctumdemunson@5-fievel@nicememerino
divider credit:@saradika-graphics
thank you for reading :)
an: i have no clue what happened. i'm just as shocked as you are
