Abbi│25│a gorl. Currently stuck in the Upside Down with Steddie, fics on ao3 -> abbididathing. Avatar by @cholvoq! (Formerly a BTS fan, old works here)> Masterlist
A submission for jewish!eddie challenge monday, written by my lovely friend Songstone. Link to fic on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52985644/chapters/134038762
The fic is titled: Why Can't This Be Love?
It comes highly recommended by me (I was one of the work's betas), it's a lovely read and features Jewish Eddie! It was written for the 2023 Steddie Big Bang.
Not really sure what all is required for a fic submission on y'alls blog, but I saw the Jewish!Eddie challenge and knew I had to submit this one!
Thanks for your patience :)
Why Can't This Be Love? by Songstone
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
121,531 words, 38/38 chapters
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Tags: Steve Harrington Has Good Parents, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, Steve Harrington Has a Sexuality Crisis, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Romantic Comedy, Steddie Big Bang 2023 (Stranger Things), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Internalized Homophobia, Jewish Eddie Munson, Virgin Eddie Munson, First Dates, Practice Kissing, First Kiss, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Slow Burn, POV Steve Harrington
Summary:
They stare at one another for a while, heads turned towards each other as they lay sprawled out on the bed. Steve’s foot, still on the floor, taps out an agitated rhythm. “Fine,” he eventually concedes, shoving himself up onto his elbows. “Fine?” Eddie parrots back. Steve shrugs. “I’ll pretend to be gay. I’ll come out to them.” Eddie’s eyes widen a bit and for a second it looks like he wants to backpedal and take back his suggestion, but Steve barrels on before he can. “But if you think I’m doing this alone you’re crazy. You’ve got to be there to tell them it was all your stupid idea of a prank if they start to go bananas.” Eddie props himself up on his arms as well, one eyebrow raised. He considers that for a moment, tipping his head to the side. After a good five seconds a devilish grin starts to pull at his lips. “I’ll do you one better, Harrington,” he says. “I’ll be there. And I’ll tell them it was all my dumb idea if they get crazy on you–which they won’t.” He snickers. “But…I’ll be there as your boyfriend.”
Thanks for the rec!
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Matching your freak is beautiful and all but what you really need is a boy who's infatuated with your freak. Down bad for your freak. Deeply intrigued by your freak. Eager to see more of your freak. Supportive of your freak. Gets bricked up witnessing your freak, even.
Well, okay, that's not technically true. Growing up in the deep south left him with an ingrained interest in college football that he's not sure he'll ever be able to shake, but at least he can understand that game. He doesn't know a single fucking thing about hockey.
The rest of the guys had been excited when Chrissy said the band had been offered tickets to see the local NHL team. He was upset by how quickly he'd been outnumbered, but the boys had plied him with the promise of violence on ice, and that was enough to sooth the betrayal, at least a little.
Which is how he finds himself here, smushed between Chrissy and Gareth and not really as engaged as he should be, watching a bunch of men run around on the ice - sometimes literally, which is crazy. There has been a little violence though, so that's something at least.
Eddie blinks when Chrissy hands him a small dry erase board and a couple of markers that she pull from her bag. "What's this for?"
"You're famous, Eddie. The arena staff knows we're here, which means we're probably going to be on camera. I figured you could entertain yourself with some appropriate messages. Appropriate," she reiterates, and Eddie grabs at his chest like he's been shot.
"You wound me! As if I would ever deign to flash the cameras with a message that's anything less than the pinnacle of wholesome!"
Chrissy rolls her eyes but smiles - ever used to his dramatics by now - and just turns back to the game. Right, sometimes it's easy to forget that Chrissy is actually a sports person.
Eddie gets to work on his first message, not entirely sure when they're going to be the focus of the large screen above them. Chrissy glances over to see what he's writing and just sighs, and Eddie can't bite back his grin.
It's actually not too long before the announcer mentions something that isn't related to the game, and then-
"With nearly twelve million monthly listeners on Spotify, please welcome local metal band, Corroded Coffin!"
Eddie looks up to see their faces on the screen and grins as he turns his board around, showing off the LOOKIN 4 HUSBAND he's written in block letters. There's a mix of cheers and laughter from the crowd, and Eddie can't help but give a joking wink to the camera before he's laughing as well.
Chrissy smacks him on the arm and says "I can't believe you," but she's smiling as well. Eddie just shrugs and cleans the message from the whiteboard, freeing up space for him to doodle in between catching glances at the game.
It's a little bit later when a big fight breaks out, and a few players from each team are sent to the- box? The box. Eddie watches the big screen as the camera follows one of the players, tracking the man as he steps inside the little booth and rips his helmet off in frustration and- holy shit.
The guy is fucking stunning; his jaw, his nose, his sweat-damp hair and the beauty marks scattered across his skin like stars. Eddie wants to get closer, wants to know the color of his eyes and smooth the crease between his brows, wants to shove his fingers into that pretty, pink mouth-
And then the camera changes, going back to the players on the ice, and Eddie blinks like he's been released from a spell. He turns to Chrissy, one hand grabbing at her arm as he says "Who the fuck was that guy?"
Chrissy glances at him but keeps most of her attention on the game. "Harrington? He's literally the captain of our team, Eddie. I know you're not super into this, but that's kind of a hard thing to miss."
The man huffs a little as he releases Chrissy's arm. "I know literally jack-shit about this game, Chrissy, nothing is hard to miss."
Eddie takes the chance to re-write his white board before turning it to face outward, hoping that some cameraman will take pity on him and put him back on screen. He's not sure how long Harrington has in what is essentially timeout, but Eddie keeps his eyes on him all the same, glad that they're actually not too far away from the box.
It's a couple of minutes later when the announcer says "Looks like our friends Corroded Coffin have another message, this time for team captain Steve Harrington," and Eddie doesn't need to look to know that the screen is showing his new sign: #14 U R PRETTY. DATE?
He sees Harrington - Steve - look up, and watches as the frustration melts from his face, only for the prettiest pink blush to spread across his cheeks and ears. The guy laughs - and christ, Eddie didn't think he could get any more beautiful, but here he is - and doesn't hesitate to nod, even makes a little call me motion like he knows Eddie's watching him.
Eddie beams and nods back, laughs when the other player in the box shoves Steve playfully and makes a comment that deepens the blush on his face. He gets a couple of shoves and smacks from his own friends and a bewildered "I can't believe you just did that!" from Gareth.
Chrissy leans into him as he cleans the board again. "Hockey's not so boring now, is it?" she says, and Eddie can't help but agree, his eyes never leaving the ice - leaving Steve - for the rest of the game.
"But why is he here all the time," he whines to Robin. She doesn't like him much, but Scoops is empty, and what else is he supposed to do? Not speak to her at all?
"Why do you care what Eddie Munson is doing at the mall."
"I don't care." He scoffs, rolls his eyes. "He's just always here. Doesn't he have anything better to do?"
"Do you?"
"He doesn't work here."
"Haven't seen you doing a lot of work here, Steve."
"You spent forty minutes yesterday drawing on your sneakers."
She shakes her head, but doesn't say anything because he's right and she knows it.
He goes back to staring at Munson, sitting on the edge of the fountain. He's relaxed back, legs spread, looking like he owns the place. The way he's leaning, his t-shirt rides up, showing a tantalizing glimpse of pale skin and the lightest dusting of hair. He doesn't remember his mouth being so dry before.
"You're such an idiot." Robin smacks herself down beside him. "Eddie's a good guy. Is this just because he's the freak and you're King Steve?"
"No!" He says it too loud, a few people in the foodcourt turn to stare. "I'm not that guy anymore. That's all just--" he flaps his hand, can't find the words.
She makes a disbelieving noise, eyes narrow. "I'll never forgive you if you hurt him."
Robin stomps off to the backroom before he can stop her, tell her he doesn't want to hurt Munson.
One of Eddie's friends says something that has Eddie stretching back to hear, pulling his shirt higher, flashing the dark line of a tattoo, and that's too much, that has him slamming his eyes closed, rubbing at his brow but all he can think is--
cold cinder block at his back, hot mouths and fumbling hands and long, deft fingers; desperate, bitten off moans; hands fisted into long curls; the hot, bittersweet taste of him
It was only a handful of times, quick encounters in the locker room, once under the bleachers in the gym. And Steve, he'd never--it didn't mean anything, but it meant everything, and Eddie's been all he can think of for months.
A group of middle school girls comes in, then, and he forgets about Munson as he scoops ice cream and blends milkshakes. The next time he looks to the fountain, Eddie is gone
---
Steve cleans up the remnants of a dropped milkshake at the store entrance, and his shorts are a little too tight, okay, he can feel the way they pull around his hips when he bends too much, but he has to clean the tile before the rush starts and customers complain. There's one spot, though, it's already dried, has to really put his back into it.
The food court is crowded by the time he finishes, bustling with customers. He turns to grab the bucket, and stops dead in his tracks. Munson sits on one of the built-in planters directly behind him. He was staring at Steve's polyester clad ass, but now his eyes travel up Steve's body, getting darker with desire as they go.
He's trapped in place by the force of Eddie's gaze, by the want there. They stare at each other in silence, Steve's blood thumping a vigorous rhythm.
The moment breaks when Robin's voice, calling his name, catches his attention. He turns back to his work without a word, but inside he's reeling.
---
Steve's opening alone, comes out from the back, and there Eddie is, lounging on the fountain rim with a magazine in hand. It's been a couple of days since he's been around, not since the incident. He watches as Munson languidly flips through the pages, seeming not to have a care in the world, and he--
Well, he's never really had to wait around for something he wants.
He stalks over to the fountain, stops when the tips of his sneakers touch the toes of Eddie's boots. And, yeah, he's in his dorky sailor outfit, but Munson didn't seem to mind the other day. Steve thinks maybe he likes it.
"Munson," he says. His hands are on his hips.
Eddie looks up, slow, taking Steve in. He leans back further, crosses his legs at the ankle. "Harrington."
They stare at each other. Steve starts biting his lip. Not as a move--he's nervous, suddenly, that all of this is a waste and Eddie isn't interested--but Munson's gaze hooks on his mouth, lingers, like a warm caress.
Steve's never initiated things between them before, isn't sure if it's working. He takes the chance, though, starts walking away.
He crosses through the seating area, past the counter, into the back, doesn't know for sure if Eddie is following until the door doesn't close right away behind him.
There's a single beat of a second where they watch each other and neither moves, before Eddie is on him, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him into the wall.
"What the fuck is this, Harrington, huh?" They're close enough for their noses to touch. "You ignore me for months and now--"
"You're here all the fucking time," he snaps back. "Sitting in the same spot like you own the place."
"So, I'm not allowed to be at the mall now?" Eddie sneers. "God forbid I'm in sight of the king."
Steve tries to pull away. "That's not what this is, and you know it."
"Then what is it, Stevie? Spell it out for me real slow to make sure I understand." He leans in, a little, and Steve stops breathing.
Eddie's lips brush his, a gentle press that isn't quite a kiss, not yet. His knees go weak, the wall at his back the only thing holding him up, but the kiss doesn't deepen. Instead, Eddie steps back, laughs. "You think I'm this easy, sweetheart? That you can lure me with your little sailor costume and I'll come without a fight?"
"Am I wrong?"
Eddie scoffs, turns his head, and Steve thinks he overplayed it, that his misread everything.
"Fuck you, Harrington." Eddie grabs him, then, hands fisting into his sailor shirt. "Fuck you and this stupid, sexy outfit. Fuck you for knowing this would work on me."
His mouth presses against Steve's throat, and he moans, clinging to Eddie's jacket.
"Listen to you, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs. "Making all those desperate, pathetic sounds for me. Almost like you missed me or something."
"I did." He groans as Eddie's mouth moves along his jaw. "Missed you so much, haven't been able to stop thinking about you."
Eddie sinks his teeth into Steve's cheek, and he has to stifle his shout. He's harder than he can remember ever being before, thinks he could come just from the feel of Eddie's teeth in his skin.
"That's not what you told Billy," Eddie says. "When he almost caught us."
"I didn't want him to hurt you," he gasps. "I--I didn't want him to have a reason."
Eddie pulls away, Steve grasping after him. "I can handle Hargrove."
"He hit me in the head with a plate." Steve points to the small scar on his forehead. "That's how I got that concussion last year."
"Oh," Eddie blinks. He cards his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling it out of the way to see the scar better. "Sweetheart. I thought--" he swallows, throat working. "I--I keep coming here to see you. I wanted--"
His hand falls to Steve's neck, drawing him in. For a second, Steve thinks it's another tease, but Eddie does kiss him this time. It's deep, desperate, so thorough he thinks Eddie's memorizing the taste of him. He doesn't want it to ever stop, not for a second.
Outside, someone starts hammering on the counter bell, shouting for service.
They slip apart, Eddie still gently cradling the back of Steve's neck. "Come over tonight?" Eddie's eyes are so dark, wanting, he could drown in them.
"Yes." Because there is no other answer.
He lets Eddie out the back door just as Robin yells from the front, "Harrington! We have a customer! I haven't clocked in yet!"
"Be right there," he yells back, but not fast enough that she doesn't catch a glimpse of Eddie slipping out.
She whirls to him, brow in an angry furrow. "Steve! I told you not to hurt him!"
He can't stop his smile. "Buckley, I promise you, Munson can take care of himself."
🎃🦇🕯️✨
No one could’ve guessed Eddie would show up to the Halloween party as Lestat and Steve looking like he stepped right off the set of The Lost Boys. And yet, here we are.
Oh, and they're not dating.
There is something so special to me about Steve staring at the ceiling and mistaking the lights for stars.
For a character constantly forced into an adult role he (albeit on drugs) has such a childhood wonder at the sight of stars. I just really like the hc of steve being super into the stars and greek mythology/constellations. A lot of people see Steve as the sun but personally I always equated him with the moon and stars. His freckles and moles obviously represent the stars but Steve is such a guiding figure too. Steve isnt a super positive character or have a sunny disposition but instead brings a calm, he is a stable figure for the kids lives and they feel protected by him. I think that feeling of support is more akin to the moon than the sun. Anyway blah blah blah stars pretty ✨
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