Chapter Text
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There is already a rapidly forming pile of clothes at Steve Harrington's feet as he tries on yet another shirt. He tugs on it, a little, appreciating the fact that it fits a little snugly across his chest, across his arms, but he rips it off again when he notices the colors are too faded to wear on a date.
A date.
He knows he’s overthinking. He knows Eddie won’t care what he’s wearing. But Eddie always looks good so effortlessly, and Steve’s always had to try so hard.
He rummages through his dresser and pulls out a dark, long sleeve polo. It’s soft from use but still a rich, solid navy and he tugs it on and tries not to mess up his hair in the process. He adjusts the sleeves, pulling on them so they sit straight and takes another look in the mirror.
He reminds himself he’s overthinking.
He goes back into the bathroom after convincing himself the static of the fabric has frizzed his hair.
He just wants the night to go well. And Steve knows he came on strong that first night, but he was so nervous and Eddie looked so beautiful and Steve wanted him. Desperately. So he threw all caution to the wind and made some pretty bold moves for a dude in the middle of nowhere Indiana.
And it had, miraculously, paid off. Because him and Eddie are SteveandEddie now, at least to each other, and Steve doesn’t know what he did to deserve Eddie Munson the way he has him, but he’s not giving it up any time soon.
Because Eddie calls him sweetheart and baby, and one morning made pancakes for them in the shape of hearts , even though they were raw in the middle. Steve doesn’t know what it is about those big brown eyes and curly hair that makes everything that should be lame and gross just about the most romantic things he’s ever experienced, but Steve is enamored. Earlier this week he had to physically bite his tongue as Robin complained to him about Eddie trampling all over her food as he stood on their lunch table again, waffling on and on about something Robin didn’t give a shit about, but how could she not give a shit when it was Eddie who was speaking?
He’s glad that as much as they joke, Robin can’t actually read his thoughts. He’s pretty sure he’d rather face a demogorgon than have anyone know the gooey fluffy garbage that works its way into his brain when he looks at Eddie.
Thoughts like how Steve wants to crawl inside Eddie’s chest and never leave. Which Steve concedes probably isn’t normal. He can’t remember if he felt that way with Nancy, but he doesn’t know how to articulate it to Eddie without coming across like some kind of serial killer. So Steve holds Eddie’s hand and kisses his face and makes him laugh and hopes he’s the kind of guy that understands Steve’s better with his actions than his words.
He finishes touching up his hair and talks himself out of changing his pants, leaving before he wastes any more time on his appearance.
He pulls up to Eddie’s house fifteen minutes early, so Steve busies himself with organizing his backseat. He brought a blanket and some pillows, even though May is now halfway over, along with chips, Skittles, and even a couple Capri Suns that Steve snagged from Dustin because he noticed Eddie can’t stop chugging the things.
It’s not much, and it only takes Steve a minute to move everything around, and he’s still in front of Eddie’s place way earlier than he should be. He fidgets for a moment, staring at Eddie’s front door, then decides to just get out and knock. He’s about five feet from Eddie’s door when he hears his name.
“Steve?”
He turns, and it’s Max, her skateboard under her arm, looking a little freaked out. “What’s going on?”
Steve throws up his hands, “just here for Eddie, squirt.”
“Eddie?” She asks, and her face shifts to curiosity. “Why?”
And shit he really doesn’t know how to answer that one. He hems a little, shifting his weight, and she narrows her eyes.
“You’re dressed pretty nicely, Steve.”
“This is how I always dress,” Steve replies, far too quickly, and the corner of her lips twitch a little.
“Sure,” she says, and she rests the end of her skateboard on the ground. She eyes him up and down. “Actually, I haven’t heard Eddie play his guitar as much recently. He’s not very quiet, you know. The whole park can hear him when he plays so his absence is pretty loud. You know anything about that?”
“He’s been studying a lot,” Steve says, and he’s floundering a bit now, trying to cover up the truth with half truths. “He’s really set on doing it, this time. He has like, two more grades to get back, before he knows for sure.”
This time Max’s smirk breaks through. She leans forward onto the lip of her skateboard. “Pretty up to date on all this, aren’t you?”
Steve tsks, “either say what you want to say or bugger off, Mayfield.”
Her smirk turns into a smile at his tone and she throws up a hand in surrender. “ Testy testy. ” But she finally picks up her skateboard and continues on her way.
“See you around, lover boy!” She yells right before she’s out of earshot, and now Steve is really glad the drive-in is in the next town over.
“Stevie?”
He turns to see Eddie’s face in the open window of the trailer. His hair is a little wild and he’s definitely shirtless, Steve can see the tops of his shoulders.
“Thought I heard your voice, ‘m almost ready.” His head dips back down, out of Steve’s line of sight.
“No worries,” Steve says, but he isn’t sure Eddie can hear.
He waits for a minute or two until he hears some muffled noises and an indistinct conversation before the door swings open and Eddie jogs out, beaming, his dimple making its home on his left cheek.
Steve can feel his heart in his throat because Eddie is wearing a t-shirt and cutoff jean shorts and he wants to devour him.
“Hi,” Eddie says, coming to a stop in front of him.
“Hi,” Steve says, and he really wishes he could grab him, because Steve never imagined that tattoos could do so many things to him, but Eddie has a lot of tattoos. “Ready?” He asks, instead, mouth a little dry, and Eddie nods, hair shifting, and Steve figures it’s probably not too much to get the door for him.
“Chivalrous bastard,” Eddie murmurs, eyes bright and appreciative as he clambers inside.
Steve closes the door and flips him off as he rounds the car to the drivers side, and Eddie smiles wider. There’s a stutter in Steve’s chest at the look, a contentedness settling on his shoulders as Eddie’s eyes follow him into the car.
“Chivalry isn’t dead yet, sunshine,” he says, the nickname slipping out, again, as the late evening sun glimmers through Eddie’s curls.
Eddie’s smile twists like he’s embarrassed, and he tugs a strand of hair down and over one of his cheeks. “Yeah, well,” Eddie starts, clears his throat, “let’s get this show on the road, Harrington.”
Smiling, Steve pulls out of the trailer park.
They merge onto the road and Steve leans so his hand is face up on the console. Eddie, for all his Harringtons and chivalrous bastards, takes his hand at once. Steve can feel him shift to face him a little better, back now slightly pressed against the door.
“Gonna tell me where we’re going, sweetheart?”
Steve fidgets a little. “Honestly, it feels kinda anticlimactic now,” he says, because it does. He thought it’d be romantic, at first, taking Eddie on a surprise date, but now that they’re here it feels like he’s built up a lot of suspense for nothing.
Eddie snorts, shakes his head. “Pretty sure I’d still be excited if we were about to like, go explore some sewers, or something.” He pauses, then adds, “actually, that sounds totally awesome. Next date, I’m taking you to explore Hawkins sewers.”
Steve laughs, scrunching up his face in disgust. “We’ll get diseases down there, man.”
Eddie gasps, “you wouldn’t risk cholera for me?”
Steve shakes his head. “Abso-lutely not. Death by demobats? Sure. That’s badass .” He says, and catches Eddie’s eyes for just a moment. “But death by shitting? No can do, not even for you.”
Eddie laughs, bright and loud and squeezes his hand. “Fair enough, babe, fair enough,” he says, shifting a bit so their arms are more fully pressed together.
They pull onto the stretch of rural highway that will take them all the way to Agloe, and Steve relents.
“We’re going to the drive-in,” Steve says, and Steve feels Eddie shift to look at him. “ Little Shop of Horrors, you- you mentioned that you wanted to see it. I have snacks in the back,” he dips his shoulder a little awkwardly towards the grocery bag.
He feels acutely exposed as Eddie turns and drops Steve’s hand to grab the bag. Nerves tug at him as Eddie rifles through and he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, wondering if all this was a good idea.
“Did you steal these from Henderson?” Eddie asks, brandishing one of the Capri Suns.
Steve shrugs, anxiety still pulling at him.
Laughing, Eddie whacks him on the shoulder with one. “For little ol’ me?” He rips the straw off one of them and begins tearing through the plastic encasing it with his teeth.
Some of Steve’s fretfulness abates at Eddie’s laughter and he admonishes, “those are for the movie!”
Eddie pauses, gives him an unimpressed look, “and the closest drive-in is what, in Agloe? That’s at least a twenty-five minute drive. I need my electrolytes.”
“You’re thinking of Gatorade, man,” Steve says, fondness now bubbling in his chest.
“Know it all jock,” Eddie quips back, and finishes tearing off the plastic and spears the freed straw into the pouch. Once he has a hand free he slides it back into Steve’s grip and gives him a squeeze. He settles in next to him, pressing against his side and letting his head drop onto his shoulder in a way that must have the console digging into his side. “The drive in is perfect, Stevie.”
The anxiety Steve was harboring releases. The car rumbles beneath them and for once Eddie doesn’t move to turn on the radio, seemingly content to slurp at his drink. Steve lets the feeling of Eddie’s bony side melt into his skin. He breathes and the strands of Eddie’s hair tickle his nose. He smells clean, like bar soap, and Steve wonders for a moment if that’s what he uses to wash his hair.
“I have news,” Eddie says, and his voice is soft.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I, I’m gonna graduate.”
Steve has to resist the knee jerk reaction to take his hands off the wheel and jump into his lap.
“ What?!”
“Yeah, they told me yesterday.” Eddie says, still not looking at him, pressed against his side so Steve can’t even see his face. “Thought Mrs. O’Donnell was gonna combust.”
Steve pauses a moment, then thinks Eddie isn’t going to get away with Steve not celebrating this.
He swerves off the road, violently kicking up gravel, and Eddie yelps out his name before Steve’s able to wrench them into park. The whole car jolts as he nearly stalls them out.
“Eddie!” He says, and it comes out more as a gasp. Eddie looks a little frazzled and Steve doesn’t think he’s ever felt this much pride. This man, whose friend was murdered in front of him, whose entire perception of the world was shattered and put back together, who nearly died protecting his friends, half of whom were barely his friends, back then, had kicked schools fucking ass. Steve grabs him by the sides of his face and kisses him. It’s brief, mainly because Steve’s smiling so broadly he kind of just cracks their teeth together, but when he pulls back he doesn’t let his hands leave Eddie’s face.
“You’re amazing,” Steve says, and Eddie turns tomato red at once, grabbing a lock of his hair and pulling, blocked from covering his face by Steve’s hands. “Seriously, you saved the world, almost got eaten alive and now you’re graduating in the span of a couple months? Eddie,” Steve pauses, licks his lips. “I’m seriously, so goddamn proud of you.”
Eddie makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and buries his face in Steve’s chest, wrapping his arms around him as best he can in the front seat of Steve’s car.
“Most people do it the first time,” comes Eddie’s muffled reply. “Should’ve gotten to this saving the world business sooner. Pretty sure the only reason I passed is because everyone took pity on the pathetic cripple.”
Steve kisses the top of his head, and even though he wants to say more, to sing Eddie’s praises and scream that he’s wonderful and intelligent and creative, he settles for, “mm, kind of the hottest cripple ever, though.” Because that’s how Eddie is able to take a compliment.
Eddie snorts and doesn’t move from his position on Steve’s chest. He brings up a hand and massages Eddie’s scalp, careful not to run his fingers through and ruin his curls.
“I’ll throw you a party,” he says after a moment. “You and Buckley are celebrating your graduation at my place, okay? I’ll rope Nance into it too. Three way graduation party. No freshmen allowed. We’ll get stupid drunk, or do whatever you want to do.”
Steve feels Eddie’s laugh, and then he pulls himself away from his chest. “Stevie, I’m pretty sure we know like, four other people outside the two of us that fit the not a freshman criteria.”
“Not true,” Steve says, situating himself back in his seat. “You know at least three other people.”
Eddie’s smile wanes. “Yeah, I guess.” He says, and looks out the front windshield. Steve feels his mood dip a little. He wonders, not for the first time, if Eddie doesn’t want people to know. Wonders what it is that would make Eddie not want people to know.
So Steve squeezes his hand in lieu of replying and Eddie shifts so his head is once again on Steve’s shoulder. He breathes and feels long hair dance around his cheeks and nose. He hears Eddie take another sip of the Capri Sun.
“I’m just really happy for you, Eddie. You worked your goddamn ass off.” He turns so his nose is at the crown of Eddie’s head. “You deserve this. More than I did, that’s for sure.”
Eddie pinches his arm. “Shut up. None of that.”
The fondness from earlier bubbles brightly in his chest again. “Okay.” He says.
Eddie takes another sip of his drink. “Enough fawning over me on the side of the road. Gonna get us both killed,” he says, and it sounds like he’s chewing on his straw through his words. It sounds like thank you.
Steve snorts and shifts slightly so he can get the car going and they pull back onto the road.
After a moment, Eddie asks, “would it be, uh, weird, having everyone over?” His voice is quiet.
“Why would it be weird?”
He can feel Eddie shrug into him. “Dunno.”
Steve’s thumb taps anxiously on the steering wheel. “I guess I don’t think it’d be weird. I mean, they wouldn’t care, Eds, you know they all know about Robin…” he trails off, not wanting to be the one guiding this conversation.
Eddie shrugs again and crumples up the Capri Sun, which leaks the drops of remaining juice all over his hand, and shoves it into Steve’s cup holder. He wipes the sticky mess on his shorts before opening Steve’s glove box and rummaging through his tapes.
“Really Stevie?” Eddie asks, and Steve looks over to see Color by Numbers held between his fingers.
Steve smiles, allows Eddie the change of subject. “You have something against Karma Chameleon?”
Eddie gags and throws the tape back into the glove box.
“Snobby metalhead,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie’s eyebrows pinch, a smile twisting the corner of his mouth, and Steve knows he’s in for it, now.
Unceremoniously, Eddie dives into a fervent tirade about the juxtaposition of the lyricism in the current top 40 versus the music of Ronnie James Dio and Rob Halford, waxing poetically about their ingenious metaphors and their approach to music as an art form.
“The fact that you could possibly compare anything by Culture Club to-“ and he sings- “between the velvet lies, there's a truth that's hard as steel ,” diving right back into his rant like he had no idea how fucking hot is voice is, and how he somehow expects Steve to just keep on following his train of thought, after that.
Steve, logically, knows Eddie is a little insufferable when it comes to music. And maybe if it was anyone else it’d really get under his skin, but he kind of likes Eddie talking his ear off about this stuff. Eddie’s voice gets all pitchy and he gesticulates so wildly he accidentally bangs his hand against the window and it doesn’t even phase him. He gets all jazzed up about whatever inconsequential topic they’ve landed on and Eddie can go on forever.
So Steve listens as Eddie badgers him about his music, saying his tapes are all Top 40 Garbage, and Steve keeps the fact that Eddie performed a George Michael song and admitted it was catchy in his back pocket. He smiles as Eddie declares the only half decent album in his collection is Pat Benatar’s Crimes of Passion, even though Steve has seen the Voulez-Vous tape crammed between the seats of Eddie’s van like contraband.
“We’ll start on the baby hill Stevie, Twisted Sister will rock your little world,” he says, jolting the hand Steve’s still holding for emphasis.
“You’re not gonna get me to stop listening to ABC ,” Steve says, and Eddie groans as they pull off the highway.
“This is really it, huh? Your fatal flaw. Rich parents, popular, chicks love him, but unabashedly listens to Simple Minds,” Eddie muses and Steve rolls his eyes.
“One of those three is no longer accurate and literally none of them matter.” Steve says, then continues, “specifically the fact that chicks used to love me.” He gives Eddie a pointed look.
Eddie grins lopsidedly. “You’re a sap, Harrington.”
Steve grins, squeezes his hand, because Eddie calling him a sap somehow makes his chest feel like butterflies are trying to escape.
Eddie’s ranting fizzles out. They’re close to the drive-in at this point, if Steve remembers correctly, and he turns them down another small road.
Eddie chatters away in the seat beside him, pointing out cute dogs and cool buildings and places they should go with shouts of Steve, look! And Steve looks, and Eddie always looks over at him to make sure he’s looking, even though he’s driving and should definitely be paying attention to the road. He’d probably be griping at Dustin, if he was the one pulling his attention away, but being around Eddie kinda makes Steve feel like it’ll be okay if his eyes drift off the road for a moment. That maybe he can relax, just a little bit.
Eddie and him pull in ten minutes before screening. Steve buys their tickets and drives them to the very edge of the plat.
“I know it’s not a great view, but,” he glances over and Eddie is staring at him, so leans over and kisses him, emboldened by the cover of darkness and relative solitude.
“Pretty good view,” Eddie murmurs against his lips, and Steve laughs.
“Yeah, sure, I’m the sap,” he hums, and Eddie kisses the tip of his nose in reply. Steve isn’t sure anyone has ever kissed him there, before.
They climb into the backseat, reclining the front seats forward for a better view, and settle in.
Steve’s never been a particularly big fan of horror movies, before or after reality turned into one, but Eddie has been talking his ear off about how badly he wants to see this one for a while and he figures being a little bored for two hours is worth the current smile on Eddie’s face.
Also, if it’s bad, Eddie would be more than okay with a prolonged make out session in the back of his car. This thought makes Steve’s stomach squirm in a decidedly excited way.
Now, though, Eddie is slumped against him, legs curled up on the seat as he leans into Steve’s side, munching on Skittles and slurping on a Capri Sun and talking all the way through the entire movie. Which, turns out the movie is less of a horror movie and more of a musical comedy with splashes of gore thrown in. Steve kind of hates it, he’s never been one for musicals, but Eddie is excitedly telling him how the director spent six weeks restructuring the script because he thought it felt stage bound, whatever the hell that meant, and other pieces of drama kid trivia that Eddie excitedly chatters into his ear.
“Sorry,” Eddie mutters eventually. “Think all these electrolytes are getting to my head, Stevie, making me goddamn gabby.” He leans forward and crams the Capri Sun shell into the cup holder.
Steve drops his arm from around Eddie’s shoulders to around his waist as he leans back. “Yeah, but Bill Murray improvising all of his lines? Who the hell else would know that? You’re culturing me here, sunshine.”
Eddie gives him a small, tentative smile. “Yeah, well,” and Eddie apparently can’t come up with anything else because he kisses Steve instead.
Kissing Eddie is always a little feral, at first. He’s all teeth and way too much tongue and all rough around the edges, but the moment Steve meets him with gentle hands and a soft press of his lips Eddie quiets, slows down a little, and seems to feel secure enough to kiss him gently, so Steve doesn’t have to fear for the preservation of his first layer of skin.
Eddie presses into him a little more and Steve sighs, twisting slightly so he’s leaning back against the car door, and Eddie is quick to get his knees under him and between Steve’s legs. It’s a little cramped, and Steve’s neck and back are already aching from the angle, but he likes the press of Eddie against him more than he dislikes the crick in his neck.
He hears Eddie’s hand press against the window, his rings clink against the glass, and he feels the other loop around his waist. Steve feels secure, like this, content and safe, with Eddie surrounding him. Eddie’s warm tongue is in his mouth and all Steve can feel are the parts where they’re pressed up against each other. The arm under him lifts, and Steve is hoisted up so the angle isn’t so awkward. He moans, and the hot pool of desire within him deepens at the sensation.
“No way that was comfortable,” Eddie says, a little breathless, and Steve lets out a laugh.
“That’s was,” he manages, licks his lips, “unfairly hot.”
Eddie’s eyes brighten. “Yeah?” He asks, and the arm around Steve’s waist tenses, and he’s jerked down below Eddie, a curtain of hair falling over them both. “I can manhandle you all you want, sweetheart.”
Steve laughs, again, and it’s low and husky with want. He can feel his dick strain against his, admittedly, ridiculous jeans and he’s a little frantic as he grabs Eddie’s sides and pulls him down onto him.
Eddie hmphs but they’re lying fully pressed against each other now, legs an uncomfortable and cramped tangle, but Eddie’s lips are on his and Steve doesn’t care about anything else. He digs his thumb into the soft layer of Eddie’s stomach, digs his fingers into the muscles of his back, because no matter how close Eddie is it isn’t enough.
Steve’s thoughts get sticky, like he can’t seem to separate them from each other enough to imagine anything beyond a chant of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, who still has one arm under his waist. The other is bent over Steve’s head, holding him up slightly. He feels fingers begin to trace the lines of his ribcage, a rhythmic drag that is more distracting than it has any right to be. Time starts to stretch and shrink unpredictably, and Steve quickly loses the thread on how much time has passed to the overwhelming press of heat above him. He thinks, distantly, that he’d be fine with just kissing, forever, if it was with Eddie.
They miss the rest of the movie. No one bothers them. It’s intoxicating and thrilling, being able to be anywhere that isn’t the privacy of Steve’s house or Eddie’s bedroom. Neither notice as the chatter of the movie dies, but as headlights of starting cars illuminate, Eddie breaks their kiss. His head falls into the corner of Steve’s neck and he lays there for a moment, breathing. The warm air carries over Steve’s throat and he can feel Eddie’s sweat damp bangs against his jaw.
“Want to come back to mine?” Steve asks, after a moment, and he’s sure Eddie can hear the staccato rhythm of his heart still thrumming excitedly against his rib cage.
“Absolutely,” Eddie says, and plants a kiss on Steve’s collar bone.
The ride back is agonizing. Eddie keeps biting his shoulder and the tips of his fingers, which should be weird but it’s Eddie. It’s Eddie so the sharp press of teeth makes him think, deliriously, that he should pull over so they can have each other on the side of the road.
But Eddie deserves better than the side of the road. So Steve drives, and Eddie continues to mutter filth into his ear, nips at his jaw and neck, and is generally just a goddamn tease. So the knowledge that Eddie deserves better than the side of the road is the only thing that gets Steve through the next twenty minutes.
Finally, finally, they get back, and Steve’s never been happier to be back at this enormous dark house.
He stumbles in like he’s drunk, arms wrapped around Eddie, whose hands are in his hair and whose chest is pressed against his and he can feel him breathe through his nose against Steve’s cheek.
They pause in the foyer, Eddie shoving him against the now closed front door and ruts a leg in between Steve’s. Eddie’s hands leave his hair to encircle his thighs, and Steve is pressed more securely against the door before strong hands hike his legs up and around Eddie’s hips.
Steve can’t help it, he moans, making Eddie laugh, and he scrambles to encircle his arms around his partner’s neck and to tighten his legs’ hold around his waist. “You’re insane, Munson,” Steve says, low and breathless.
“Please, Harrington. I’ve moved stage equipment heavier than you.” And then Eddie is pulling him away from the door and walking them up the stairs. It’s goddamn hot, is what it is. Steve’s always thought being the one doing the carrying was a turn on, but the feeling of Eddie’s arms around him as he takes him up the stairs is undoing him.
At the first landing Steve can tell Eddie is struggling, a little. Steve is 5’11” and an athlete, no matter what Eddie says about stage equipment, and he says as much, tells Eddie he can put him down. But the man is nothing if not determined, and even though Eddie is breathless he shakes his head, gives Steve a kiss and manages to get them both to the bedroom.
“You’re an idiot,” Steve laughs, as Eddie collapses them both into bed. Eddie’s breathing is actually pretty labored, now, so Steve crawls on top of him and starts planting messy kisses on his throat.
Eddie hums, brings his hands to Steve’s hips and massages his fingers under the seam of his jeans. “If I knew all I had to do was pick you up and carry you around, Harrington, I would’ve done it a lot sooner.”
“I didn’t know I was so easy,” he says into Eddie’s throat, and his fingers start lifting the bottom of Eddie’s shirt, playing with the skin underneath, until Eddie’s hands find his and still their movement.
Steve breaks their kiss, leans back a fraction to look Eddie in the eyes. “No?” He asks, and Steve runs through the last hour and a half, to where he could’ve misread Eddie’s cues.
“Um,” Eddie says, and he looks a little panicked, like he doesn’t know what to say, so Steve rotates his hand and intertwines their fingers, giving Eddie a squeeze.
“Hey,” he says, and he removes his other hand to cup at Eddie’s face, “we never have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
Something unreadable flashes across Eddie’s eyes. He places a hand over Steve’s, where it’s still cupping his face. “Nothing I haven’t done before ,” he says, a little defiantly, but he’s not quite meeting Steve’s eyes as he continues, “it’s just, um, been a while, I guess, since I’ve, uh, gone all the way, or whatever, so, maybe just not like, everything, right now, you know?” He’s stuttering, eyes wide, and Steve feels like he’s missing something.
They haven’t really discussed sex, not in the way Steve now understands it to work between two guys (thank you, Robin), and Steve certainly hadn’t expected that tonight. But Eddie’s looking at him like Steve might kick him out at his words, like the admission that it’s been awhile could possibly influence the way Steve feels about him.
“We never have to do anything you don’t want to.” He rubs a thumb across Eddie’s cheekbone. “Let’s take a break, yeah?” So Steve pecks him on the cheek and turns so he’s lying on his side, facing Eddie, instead of on top of him.
He hopes this is the right thing to do.
Eddie lays there for a moment, curls his arms around himself before turning as well. His eyes are a little red, and Steve doesn’t know if Eddie wants to talk about it or not.
“Okay?” He asks, and he reaches a hand out between them.
Eddie’s eyes focus on his fingers as he brings up a hand to wrap around Steve’s. He nods, dark hair pooled around him. “Yeah, ‘m sorry, that was…” Eddie trails off, scrunches his face up.
Steve wants to pull him close, to crawl inside his chest and assure him that he never has to apologize, not for something like this, not ever.
“Eddie,” he says, instead. “Look at me.”
After a moment Eddie does, eyes still red, and Steve’s worried he’s really beating himself up over this. He’s worried what situations Eddie’s been in, in the past, if this is his reaction for withdrawing consent. His stomach drops at the thought.
“Don’t apologize, Eddie, please, okay? Sex is, sex is great, and blow jobs and all that stuff are fun, yeah, but this?” And he squeezes Eddie’s hand a little tighter, places a kiss to the back of it. “ This is- you’re just, so much better.”
Eddie’s eyebrows pinch, and he looks like he’s about to cry before he tugs a lock of hair over his face. “You’re a sap,” he says, and it comes out high and choked.
The tension bleeds out of Eddie’s shoulders, though, and he relaxes into the bed. Steve watches the slow rise and fall of Eddie’s chest. After a few moments, Eddie lets the lock of hair fall. His eyes are clear, now, and a small smile is lifting the corner of his mouth.
“Where the hell did you come from, Steve Harrington?” Eddie asks, voice just above a whisper.
And it strikes him again, in this moment, how beautiful Eddie is. How amazing it is that they found each other, in the worst moments of both their lives, and how they were somehow able to pull something so good out of it.
Steve smiles, gives Eddie’s hand another squeeze. “Probably waiting for you, or some gross nonsense like that.”
Eddie laughs, bark-like and loud and Steve’s smile grows.
“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie says, smiling, and his dimple is back.
“Only for you,” Steve coos, and Eddie groans, rolls onto his back.
“Oh my god,” he mumbles, then turns his head so he’s facing Steve again. “You’re gonna make my teeth fall out of my head.”
Then Eddie gasps, clutches his chest, and climbs onto all fours and scrambles over until he’s hunched over Steve. “That’s your end game, isn’t it, Harrington? Make all my teeth fall out so I can give you better blow jobs.”
“Damn, and my plan was going so well, too,” Steve muses, and he brings up a hand to cup the back of Eddie’s head. “Almost had ya.”
Eddie is looking at him, face tunneled by his curtain of long hair, and staring like there’s some big question building behind his lips.
But then Eddie kisses him instead, sweet and tender and brings up his hands to cup Steve’s face. It’s so gentle, so contrary to the kisses Eddie usually initiates, it kind of makes Steve want to cry.
He doesn’t, of course. But he brings his hands to Eddie’s forearms, strokes his thumbs up and down.
Then, because Steve needs him to understand, needs Eddie to know so he never has to give Steve that look full of fear ever again, he pushes Eddie away, just slightly.
And even though Steve’s never been great with words, he doesn’t think his actions can really convey what he means, this time.
“You believe me, right?” And he looks imploringly up, searching Eddie’s eyes. “That I think you’re better than like, pretty much anything?”
Eddie freezes, hovering above him without moving, hands still gently cupped around his face. After too long he blinks, shakes his head a bit. “You’re too good for me.” He mumbles, and if they weren’t still so close Steve wouldn’t have heard.
It makes Steve a little insane, for a moment, a hot anger courses through him at whatever or whoever made Eddie think he doesn’t deserve the entire world on a silver platter.
“You’ll have to trust me, then, sunshine.” He wants to say more, but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t have the words to prove to Eddie how wrong he is.
Instead he brings up his hands so they’re cupped around Eddie’s cheeks, “you have me, teeth or no, okay?”
Eddie laughs, lightly, shakes his head. “I still have no idea where you came from, Harrington.” Steve can feel the vibrations of his laugh through the mattress, and Steve wonders, for the second time in his life, if this is what falling in love feels like.