Steve Harrington\Eddie Munson | Rated: M | cw: Blood, Death, Gore | Tags: Alternative Universe: Vampire, Horror, Dom/Sub undertones, Implied Mind Control, Dubious Consent, Vampire!Eddie, Hotelclerk!Steve | AO3
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The Graveyard Shift - Part 2
They are heading northwest from their last gig in Cincinnati. The highrise of the city center quickly makes way for long stretches of road until the city is nothing more than a bunch of lights in the rearview mirror.
The guys are giddy, strung up from another good show—another good hunt. Eddie is happy to leave Ohio behind; to be returning to his home ground of Indiana.
True, the state itself isn’t much to look at, but in the darkness of the night, he doesn’t care much for a scenic view.
When was the last time he laid his eyes on the vast green fields, the rich yellow of dried wheat, or the cerulean sky? Eddie can hardly recall—it has been decades after all.
Compared to the first half of the 20th century, the 80s are a spectacle to behold. The morals are looser, the clothes more revealing, and hunting was never this easy—never this fun. Eddie likes the way he can walk around at night now, bathed in light and color like he’s living once more.
And the music is something else.
It’s hard to believe he might have missed out on this—on the leather and the smoke and the loudness of it all. The shrieking of guitars and voices that perfectly captures the chaos of the world; to instill darkness in mortals, not through death, but through music.
What a splendid age indeed.
Indianapolis shines like a beacon of light in the distance and in this new age, this time of neon lights and secondary colors, it might as well be Eden itself. It shines in darkness much more than it ever did in the light of day.
When they arrive in the city, Gareth drops him off at some gaudy hotel, and it’s their usual spiel. They stay at separate hotels, avoid suspicion, and then once their show is over, they leave again. Ditch the city and trade it for another.
Rinse and repeat, for centuries to come.
The hotel looks different from the last time Eddie stayed there a decade ago. New owners have tried to put their mark on history. Tearing down the old and replacing it with artificial plastics that seem so prevalent at this time.
It’s cute, the way they try, but few are ever remembered. Most will disappear into obscurity—just another name on a tombstone until that erodes as well.
Most, but not Eddie.
Not Corroded Coffin.
The new marble floors are laid in a checkerboard pattern—polished to such an extent that they reflect anyone who walks on them. It’s a giveaway, but Eddie doesn’t worry about that. Humans are remarkably dim; remarkably easy to fool.
Not that he minds. Eddie prefers his food a little dim.
Behind the front desk stands a boy. Eddie could smell him from outside—the smell of lifeblood and light. It matches his looks in every way. He has an easygoing charm to him.
The boy doesn’t notice him as he massages his temples and Eddie feels like a fox stalking a rabbit unaware of its impending doom.
After so many decades, it’s easy to move without sound—it’s thrilling, the way people jump, the way their eyes go wide as they grow uncomfortable.
Unconsciously they are aware that something is wrong, but humans have grown out of touch with their instincts. They push the feeling down because in this age, evil can be found in board games, books, and the wrong kind of love.
Evil comes in human form—it needs no horns or teeth or claws. It comes in clever tongues, greedy hands, and an insatiable hunger for more, m ore, m ore—
When Eddie sees the boy, he thinks goodness may persist in equal measure. It gnaws at him, the familiarity of it, but he can’t allow himself to go there—not again. It’s a specific kind of anguish. A yearning he can’t mute.
He yearns for Steve before he even learns his name.
And it sounds like a melody, the way his heart rate spikes when Eddie grabs his wrist; his scent a perfect blend of nervous curiosity and excitement, unpolluted by the stench of fear.
Eddie feels his mouth water as his nails dig into his flesh. He pulls back. He has indulged himself too much already.
Not this one. Not yet.
Around 4 AM, Eddie orders room service, and some kid with freckles shows up at his door.
Tommy
He smells like trouble—it radiates off him like perfume as his cheeks flush with expensive wine and stuffs his face with the food Eddie provides.
Call it his last supper. Eddie does have some humanity.
Eddie watches him with a lazy swirl of untouched wine in his hand. Tommy doesn’t notice he doesn’t drink. Tommy doesn’t notice much of anything.
Tommy talks.
He talks a lot and it’s all bullshit. But, fuck, if that isn’t the type of person Eddie enjoys toying with most—cocky and a little rude. They break so beautifully.
The guys have given him shit before, called his tastes fancy. And maybe they are right, just a little, because Eddie has a type.
Tommy isn’t it, but he’s close enough.
He’s sure the guys are fine with this one. Someone unreliable, who oversleeps and skips out on work. Someone who won’t be missed—not until it’s too late.
Yes, Tommy will do , Eddie reminds himself as he sinks his teeth into the boy’s neck. Tommy whimpers helplessly, somewhere between pain and pleasure. The initial resistance wears off fast as the venom fills his veins. Eddie feels his heat seep into his body and he moans against his skin; grabs the back of Tommy’s neck to pull him closer.
There’s nothing quite like blood. Nothing quite like the overwhelming pleasure of life on his tongue as Tommy’s pulse grows weaker and his skin pales.
When Eddie feels Tommy’s heart hitch he knows it’s time to stop. He pushes himself away and creates some distance as he watches. Pupils blown and white-faced, Tommy’s jaw moves helplessly for a minute or so before Eddie sees him fade.
Eddie stands up then. He hates the final spasms—hates the actual dying part, no matter how often he does it. It reminds him of himself, and how he skirted death before he became what he is now.
He moves to his window and stands in front of it. The city is alive with lights, regardless of the hour.
Reflected in the window he sees Tommy’s body give a singular violent jerk.
Death throes.
“It won’t be like last time,” Eddie whispers as he thinks of the boy named Steve.
—
It is morning and Robin is seated at their little breakfast table with a slice of half-eaten toast and a newspaper in front of her. The kitchen smells of bread and coffee and it instantly makes Steve relax. It’s the scent of coming home, especially now that he works night shifts. He makes himself a cup of tea and sits down next to her.
Robin takes another bite of her toast and looks at him. “Alright, spill it.”
“What?”
“You have something to tell me. I can see it in your face.”
Steve sends her a playful frown before pulling the two backstage passes from his breast pocket and sliding them toward her like they’re business cards.
Robin studies them a moment before looking back at Steve. “Remember when I said they were weirdos? That definitely extends to them backstage.” She pushes the passes back to Steve. “How did you even get this?”
Steve steals her toast and takes a bite. “Their lead singer—”
Robin snatches her toast back and pulls a face. “Dude, swallow before you talk.”
“Sorry.” Steve swallows heavily, “As I was saying, their lead singer is staying at the hotel. Tommy didn’t show up tonight so I had to pitch in on room service duty. Kinda sucked balls, but hey, I got something good out of it I guess.”
“And you were so good at pushing a cart this guy just happened to give you backstage passes?” Robin gulps her coffee and eyes him over her mug.
“So what if I was?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Okay, fine. He invited me into his room and made me have wine with him. Happy now?”
“Steve, that’s really weird.” She frowns into her mug.
Steve fiddles with the handle of his mug. Robin is eying him intensely and she’s probably right. It’s a little weird, but she’s also overly suspicious. “He was just being nice. It was nearly morning. Maybe he felt guilty about the food.”
“Food? He ordered food at what, 5 AM?”
“Hotel guests are always weird. You don’t know half of it. This actually only classifies as mildly unusual.”
“So, what say you? Will you join me tonight?”
“There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”
“No chance.”
Robin seems to be giving in and Steve feels strangely victorious. “Okay, I’m coming with you tonight, if only because I’m pretty sure this guy has some unbecoming intentions with my sweet Steve.”
Steve laughs and takes a sip of his tea. Robin smiles back at him, tentatively.
“Highly unlikely. I’m not a girl.”
“That means nothing, Steve. Believe me.” Robin flips the newspaper to the next page and they sit in silence for a moment.
It’s a rainy morning and Robin will have to leave for class soon. Steve hates how their schedules contradict each other now. He squeezes her hand affectionately and gives her a reassuring smile.
“It’ll be fun.”
Robin smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
—
“Are you really wearing that?” Robin asks him that evening.
Steve looks himself down. He’s wearing a polo and jeans. Hardly an offensive outfit. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Oh Steve, they’ll eat you alive,” she says affectionately. “Hold on.”
Robin leaves the room and Steve moves to one of the mirrors to study himself. His outfit isn’t like Eddie’s on the pamphlet, nor like the people in the record shop, but he can’t see what’s wrong with it.
“Catch.” Robin throws a black fabric ball at him and Steve turns around, just in time to get hit square in the face. He yanks it off his head and unfolds it.
“ Heart ? Isn’t it a faux pas to wear shirts of other bands?”
“I didn’t know you spoke French, monsieur Steve. Did you pick that up at that fancy hotel of yours too?” Robin is smiling at him.
Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s the cross-words okay. Now answer the question.”
“It’s fine…ish. Besides, it’s the only thing I have close to your size. It’s better than your polo, believe me.”
Steve sighs. “Fine, I’ll be right back.”
—
Robin is right, this isn’t his scene. Steve self-consciously tugs at the slightly too-tight shirt. He’s glad she made him change because people are indeed dressed differently here.
Steve hasn’t attended many music events. Music has always been in the background, not something he consciously paid attention to.
Corroded Coffin hits differently.
It’s the darkness and heat of the small concert hall. People are dressed in black and leather, drenched in defiance and sweat. But the ambiance is magnetic and it lures Steve in. It makes him believe he can become one with this collection of misfits as the drums pound in his head with Robin at his side. Guitars cut through him and Eddie Munson’s voice stitches him back together.
Robin sticks to his side, hands on his arm. She’s wary and Steve doesn’t understand how she’s not taken by this, by the music that sounds so much like love feels.
Robin eyes him suspiciously. Her eyebrows are knit together as she holds his face and scans his eyes. “Did you slip in some alcohol while I wasn’t looking?”
Steve swats her hands away. “Of course not. Where would I even get that?”
Steve isn’t drunk. He can’t be, but the atmosphere feels charged with it. “Just relax Rob, have fun,”
The music is loud and talking is hard. Bodies are squeezed against them from all sides as they make their way back into the crowd.
When Eddie announces their last song his eyes briefly meet Steve’s in the darkness of the crowd. And surely Eddie can’t see him, not really—it’s too dark and the stage lights are too bright. But when he hits his guitar and runs his lips against the metal grid of his microphone, Steve thinks he looks like a god come to life.
Steve is mesmerized by it. Can tear his eyes away from the way Eddie’s mouth moves over the microphone like a lover would. Steve hardly hears the music at this point. The world is faded at the edges and it feels like nothing exists except for Eddie and himself.
Eddie looks at him, and this time Steve is sure he sees him. Eddie’s eyes hold his, lips moving over the microphone as he sings his final note.
The crowd erupts in cheers and the spell is broken.
When the band moves off the podium, chaotic mumbling rises and fills the concert hall. The lights come back on and suddenly all intimacy seems gone.
Rob squeezes his arm, her eyes shooting towards the exit in signal for Steve. She pulls him along, making her way through the mass of bodies around him until she comes to a halt, so suddenly Steve almost crashes into her.
In front of her stands a bulky man dressed in a suit.
“If you’ll follow me,” he says. He doesn’t wait for an answer, but briefly turns his back, walking towards the stage rather than the exit.
Robin shoots Steve a wary look, but he ignores it, grabbing her by the wrist to pull her with him. She resists for a second before giving in.
The man leads them through the crowd to a door near the stage. He holds it open for them and beckons them to go through. The man steps past them until they arrive at another door. He holds it open again and when Steve walks through he is greeted by several other people lounging around.
They’re all girls.
Pretty girls with dark clothes and drinks in their hands—champagne flutes and elegant wine glasses. Some seem a little buzzed; somewhere between the softness of alcohol-induced relaxation and nervous anticipation.
The door falls shut behind them and the girls look up at the sound. They greet them, some with a soft ‘hi’, others with a wave. Some of them ignore them altogether.
Steve doesn’t really care. He isn’t there for them. The girls don’t seem to care either—mostly focusing on themselves or the friends they brought.
“Let's get out of here Steve,” Robin whispers in his ear. She’s glued to his side, antsy to get away, and Steve has to admit the situation feels strange. Now he’s not engulfed by the crowd the high is starting to wear off, and the atmosphere unsettles him a little.
The room is pretty barebones and all the girls are wearing VIP tags around their necks, just like them.
“Let's just get one drink, then we’ll go.” Steve offers. He makes his way over to a table with various drinks—mostly alcohol. Steve decides to be responsible and grabs a soda for Robin and himself. Robin seems nervous enough as is, she doesn’t need Steve’s drunk ass on top of everything.
A little while later the man who led them earlier is back and asks them to follow him once again. Muffled music sounds throughout the hall until a door opens and suddenly music is blasting.
The room is dark with a few lights scattered around casting warm light and dark shadows. The room is hazy with smoke, walls lined with brick, and Persian rugs scattered on the hardwood floor. It must be one of the rooms for performers to relax before and after the show, Steve realizes.
Loud cheering erupts as one of the band members downs a glass of red liquid in one go. Some of it runs past his stubbled chin and he wipes at it with his sleeve.
The large man clears his throat and the band members look up towards the door opening.
“Come in, come in!” A guy with blond curly hair motions. They disperse and the members seem to gravitate towards their respective guests.
“Steve!”
Eddie walks towards him with open arms and Steve feels that familiar pull again. It tugs at his mind and swirls in his gut with a sense of unfounded longing.
Before Steve can react, Eddie has him engulfed in a tight hug and Steve can feel the buttons of his denim vest dig into his chest and the skin of his cold bare arms stick to his own sweat-slick skin.
“And you must be his friend.” Eddie releases him and turns to Robin. He doesn’t hug her. Instead, he takes her hand with a cordial bow and introduces himself as ‘Edward Munson, but call me Eddie’.
The tension in Robin’s posture seems to relax a little then. “Robin,” she says.
Eddie’s attention turns back to Steve and he eyes him up and down.
“Dig the shirt,” he says, clicking his tongue. Steve looks down at the tight fabric stretched over his chest and pats at it self-consciously.
“What did you think of the show?” Eddie looks at Robin, then at Steve.
“It—it was great. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Steve says. Next to him, he sees Robin’s eyebrow move ever so slightly. It’s a tell, but Eddie won’t know that. Robin thinks Steve’s full of shit. Is probably judging his life choices at this very second. That’s fair. Maybe Robin is just having a bad day.
“Great show,” Robin echoes, but there is little passion behind her words. She looks at her watch, and honestly, Steve thinks it’s a little rude with Eddie right in front of them, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are glued to Steve. A handsome little smile growing on his face as he throws an arm around his shoulder.
“Say, we’re heading to a club after this. Afterparty kinda deal. Care to join us?”
Steve opens his mouth to answer, but Robin beats him to it.
“We have class tomorrow morning.”
We. Now that was a lie. Robin really wants to get him out of here.
“I don’t,” Steve corrects her, “An after-party sounds fun. Can’t sleep anyway—night shifts you know.” Steve shrugs.
Robin shoots him a desperate look. “Can I steal him for a moment?” She asks Eddie. He nods and releases his grip on Steve’s shoulder.
Robin leads him to one of the corners of the room. The music is loud, and the other band members are chattering with the girls. One of them has a girl on his lap as they engage in a very intimate conversation.
Once they’re out of earshot, Steve focuses his attention on Robin. “What the hell, Rob!”
“Steve, something about this is off. I swear.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve says, but it doesn’t sound convincing. Robin quirks a skeptical eyebrow as she folds her arms over her chest.
The thing is, Steve doesn’t really care. This is the most fun he’s had in a good while. Life has been boring these past few months. He is just finding his footing again after Nancy dumped him. He doesn’t understand why Robin can’t let him have this.
“Steve, I mean it. I’m going home. I really do have class in the morning. If you know what’s good for you, you will come as well.”
“I’m staying, Rob. I can take care of myself.” He crosses his arms over his chest and stares her down.
Finally, Robin relents. She sighs, pulls the VIP badge from her neck, and shoves it in his hand.
“If you’re about to do something stupid, look at my name and maybe—don’t do that thing,” she says. She gives his arm an affectionate squeeze and makes her way to the door, looking back once with furrowed brows before closing it behind her.
Steve stares after her. His excitement tainted with a strange guilt as he stands there alone.
“You alright there?”
Steve turns around and sees Eddie looking at him with worried eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine. My friend—” he looks at the door again and frowns, “she had to leave.”
“That’s too bad, man. Listen, we’re about to head out, yeah. I got us a taxi, we’re sharing with Gareth and his harem.” Eddie points a thumb over his shoulder towards the guy with curly blond hair. He’s surrounded by three girls.
Steve shoots him a smile, and when he stares into Eddie’s impossibly dark eyes, he feels all guilt wash off him and that strange sense of longing and anticipation return.
The taxi is a tight squeeze. One of the girls takes the passenger seat, which leaves Eddie, Gareth, and two additional girls in the backseat.
A blonde girl decides to share a seat with her friend by sitting on her lap and Gareth squeezes himself into the middle seat next to the girls. That only leaves one window seat.
“Not a bad idea,” Eddie says, staring at the girls, “you can sit on my lap,” he offers, sending him a little smile. Steve laughs sheepishly until he realizes Eddie meant what he said.
“Won’t you be uncomfortable? Maybe we should get another taxi—”
“It’s only ten minutes. It will be fine,” Eddie waves his hands.
Steve relents and settles himself into Eddie’s lap. They’re both guys, it isn’t weird at all. He was on the basketball team in high school. He knows guys can be close without it having to mean something. Maybe if he were a girl, he would be worried.
Somewhere in the back of his head, he hears their morning conversation echo.
‘That means nothing, Steve. Believe me.’
He shakes her off, even when he feels her VIP pass poke into his thigh from the pocket of his jeans.
The car ceiling is low, and he has to bend his neck a little with the added height of Eddie’s thighs beneath him. There’s no shifting or moving about. He sits planted firmly, full weight on Eddie’s lap. They can’t wear a seatbelt like this, which annoys him somewhat. It thrills him too, the edge of danger, however small.
Everything about tonight is strange and exciting.
The car ride is short indeed. He feels Eddie’s bones dig into the back of his legs, and Eddie holds him, arms wrapped around his waist, but it’s only to steady him. Steve tries not to move too much. He doesn’t want to make it more uncomfortable for Eddie than it has to be. It’s a tight squeeze as is, with all five of them on the backseat, and it doesn’t help that Gareth keeps messing with the girls on his side. His elbows poke into Steve’s side now and then, and it makes him shift in Eddie’s lap.
“We’re almost there,” Eddie breathes against his neck. Steve feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His will is soft and pliant and he feels like he’s drunk again. He wonders how Eddie’s doing that; wonders why Eddie even invited him along when he could be surrounded by a cohort of girls as well, although he loses that train of thought quickly.
Steve stumbles out of the taxi once they arrive, and Eddie steadies him when he steps out behind him. There’s a large line in front of the building—so long that it cuts around the corner— and Steve can only imagine how long it will go on from there.
The red neon sign spells out ‘Candlelight’ and it casts a warm hue on the concrete sidewalk. It makes Eddie’s hair look a deep auburn and fire-red reflect in his black eyes.
Steve hasn’t been to many nightclubs in Indianapolis. Before, when he was dating Nancy, there was little reason to, and now that he has his job at the hotel, his nights are often otherwise preoccupied. Robin indulged him once after he and Nance broke up, but after getting hit on by several guys, she quickly decided she never wanted to do it again.
Not that it matters. Steve liked spending whatever free night he had watching movies with Robin just fine. And he would like to meet his next girlfriend organically anyway, not in nightclubs through beer goggles or whatever.
Their entourage is moving towards the double doors of the nightclub and Eddie lays a heavy hand on his lower back. He feels his fingers grace his skin where his shirt rides up; feels Eddie’s sharp nails rest on his skin like talons. It sends a shiver down his spine.
Once one of the other guys talked to the bouncer, they’re allowed in, and Steve is a little starstruck by the way they get to skip the line.
As they walk through the double doors, Steve is engulfed by light and moving bodies to music that thumps so loudly he can feel it in his bones.
A strange night indeed, he thinks as Eddie guides him in.
---
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