happy Steddie Winter Exchange to @emchant3d! it's a little angsty to start, but i promise it'll have a happy ending, and i've been inspired to write some stevie lately after seeing the @stevieinlovezine zine project gearing up! i hope you enjoy, lovely!
rated E | chapter 1 of 2 | 5792 words
Summary: Steve’s life hasn’t been this good in years: the Upside Down is gone; he has Eddie and Robin and the kids; his parents fucked off and left the house in his name. So why is he such a mess lately?
Eddie’s voice is small when he asks, “Can you at least tell me why?”
“You want a boyfriend,” Steve finally says. His lips are numb. “I don’t know that I can be that.”
The floor under Steve’s shoes is tacky, a result of poorly cleaned spills and god knows what else, and the air smells like stale beer and cigarette smoke, but there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now as he looks up at Eddie on the makeshift stage. It’s only a couple feet above the ground, just high enough for Steve to see the band from the bar. But it’s something. It’s definitely more than anyone expected after another brush with the end of the world.
Even in the dim lighting of the shitty dive bar, Eddie shines up there. His grin stretches wide and toothy across his face, tugging at some of the shiny, healed scar tissue along his jaw, and his fingers dance over the strings of his guitar like he never needed a break while he recovered. He’s magnetic, beautiful even, like he belongs up there.
In a way, Steve’s a little jealous. Not of the nonexistent groupies Gareth jokes about, or the crowd’s attention, or even the way Eddie’s hair holds a curl despite his shitty shampoo. But the joy? The very real release in the ease of knowing where he’s supposed to be, doing what he’s meant to be doing? That’s where the spiky ball in Steve’s stomach stems from.
He takes a swig of his High Life in an attempt to drown the sudden feeling. It’s been cropping up more and more recently, and he hates it. Next to him, Robin’s bouncing along with the music, her smile growing as she catches sight of Chrissy dancing at the edge of the meager crowd. Eddie, Robin, Chrissy—all of them, happier than he’s ever seen them, happy just to be alive after their experiences with the Upside Down. And then there’s Steve, pitying himself at the bar during his boyfriend’s set for no goddamn reason.
Steve downs the rest of his beer and grabs Robin’s hand, determined to forget for a little while as he pulls her forward to join Chrissy. She stands out amongst the drunks and metalheads around her in a tiered denim skirt, pink shirt, and ruffled socks, and she seems to be having more fun than any of them. Chrissy welcomes them with a laugh, her hair mussed and frizzy in the humid air, makeup smeared, absolutely beaming. “Hi!” she yells over thrashing guitars and crashing drums.
Robin stumbles into her, all sharp elbows and awkward hips, and Steve’s amused eye roll goes unnoticed, both of the girls immediately distracted by one another. He can’t say shit, though; he knows he and Eddie are just as bad. They’d be all over each other all the time if it wouldn’t get their teeth knocked in by bigots.
Corroded Coffin’s set goes for another twenty minutes, thankfully making it impossible to hear his own thoughts. Steve lets Robin and Chrissy goad him into jumping along with them, laughing at their attempts to head bang. His own hair is long enough to stick to his neck, damp with sweat by the time Jeff thanks the audience and signs them off for the night. The buzz lingers under Steve’s skin, though, the vibrations still dancing along the bones of his rib cage.
Chrissy and Robin both need to use the bathroom, or so they claim, leaving Steve on his own. And judging by the length of the line for the single-occupant restroom, they’ll be gone for a while. He shakes his head, fondly amused, and settles at the end of the bar to wait, waving off the bartender when he gets a questioning look.
The patrons around him are interesting enough to entertain him. He lets his gaze wander without any real intent, settling on a group of women to his left. His eyes linger on their denim jackets and lace gloves and the height of their hair. Steve could probably get his hair to do that, he thinks. Some backbrushing, some Farrah, maybe some mousse and a hair dryer. His hair’s nearly long enough now. It’s been ages since he cut it, partly because he’s been busy but also because he’s come to like the length and how it softens him a bit. There’s no more mistaking him for King Steve anymore.
He’s just wondering if Chrissy would show him how girls get their eyeliner all smudgy like that when the women catch him looking. One of them raises an eyebrow challengingly and Steve quickly tears his gaze away.
It lands on a nearby couple by accident, but Steve finds himself staring at them, the easy way they hold one another in public, claim each other with casual touches. No one bats an eye at them. The woman presses a kiss to the man’s cheek and laughs at the lipstick mark left behind. Her partner allows it, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t move to rub it away. It stands out against his skin as a clear declaration of love, and it sends a pang of jealousy through Steve that almost surprises him. He’d love to be able to do that with Eddie, to be open about their relationship and have it be treated as normal. Fuck, if he were a girl—
If he were a girl. But he’s not. He’s not.
read the rest of chapter one
