Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eddie is hot-wiring the RV when he should have noticed. The signs were there, clear as day. If only he had paid attention then.

The air is musty and unfamiliar—it smells like other people. 

Like something stolen. 

Steve asks him where he learned how to hot-wire as he leans over Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie’s movements are hurried as he cuts the wires and strips them to expose the copper within. 

Steve is still wearing Eddie’s jean jacket over his naked torso and leans in closely. Eddie can feel the heat of his skin settle in the leather of his jacket and it seeps into his skin like ink on paper.

The RV smells familiar, like when he was younger and his dad took him along, teaching him how to steal a car. The smell of copper meeting copper. 

Nostalgia. But not in a good way.

Steve is not backing off, not even after Eddie shoots back an uncomfortable fact about his negligent father. In fact, Robin joins in on the fun. She leans over Steve, looking worried as she asks whether Eddie will be the one driving.

Eddie feels antsy and needs something to take the edge off. Maybe a smoke. But there is no time right now. The thrill of messing with someone is the next best thing.

He knows an opportunity when he sees one and turns his head.

“Harrington's got her” – Eddie leans in close, his breath hot on Steve’s cheek – “Don’t ya, big boy?”

He shoots Steve a teasing smile.

Every normal person would have pulled back by now, but Steve remains unmoved. He regards him with dark eyes and dark lashes. There is no betrayal of emotion. No betrayal of anything amiss.

He doesn’t even flinch. 

The second time it happens they are hanging out at Robin’s house while her parents are out of town. 

It’s a strange ensemble consisting mostly of people from band. Eddie recognizes some of them, although he doesn’t know them by name. Music is music, regardless of whether you are in the school band or play in an actual band—although the latter is way cooler, obviously—and he actually finds himself having a good time. 

He talks.

He talks a lot when he feels out of place, rambles too much until his mouth runs dry. 

He takes a final sip from his beer and crumples the can. He makes his way to the kitchen with a tipsy swagger in his step and alcohol-fueled confidence.

The kitchen is semi-crowded and Eddie spots an untouched six-pack on the kitchen counter. Somehow kitchens are always like that, a gathering spot for people, a watering hole where all good shit happens. It's where all the gossip gathers from loose tongues.

At most parties at least. Because this is a band party, and although those kids do know how to get wild, it’s nothing compared to the total chaos of some of the bigger parties he’s had the pleasure of selling at.

He tears at the cardboard casing and pulls out a can.

A weight settles next to him, heavy and warm, bare legs just shy of touching. Eddie turns, beer in hand, and leans back against the counter.

It’s Steve.

Steve acknowledges him with a simple nod and Eddie raises his unopened beer to him in a silent toast.

He side-eyes Steve as he cracks it open and the can hisses loudly in his hands. 

Ever since the bat-thing, Steve’s presence has been like a loose thread and Eddie feels the irresistible urge to pick at it. 

To elicit a reaction.

To make Steve squirm.

He leans in closer until his shoulder is pressed against Steve's and their thighs are touching.

Eddie fidgets with the can lip as he waits for the inevitable reaction of uneasiness, feigning disinterest while he watches Steve like a hawk. 

It usually doesn’t take long. 

Any minute now.

Steve remains still. 

Eddie shifts his weight, pressing himself closer to Steve’s side. 

This was his little game and he always won. For more than a year now, Eddie has been the undisputed king of personal space invasion. 

There was something so empowering—so utterly bone-tingling—about the way people’s shoulders tense, how they shift to create some distance without making it seem intentional.

Eddie revels in it.

Steve casually sips his beer, seemingly unaware of the fact that they're too fucking close. He takes his sweet time staring through the open kitchen door into the living room.

Taking in the people around him. 

Totally, utterly unaffected.

Eddie taps his foot on the floor as he feels himself grow restless. He can’t believe Steve is so oblivious, or maybe he is fine with it? There’s just no way he doesn’t notice that the way they are standing is just…not normal.

The music seems to synchronize with his thoughts. 

He is about to lose his own game if Steve doesn’t move soon.

“Steve!”

Robin bursts into the kitchen. 

Her dark-lined eyes are wide and she looks flustered as she makes her way over to Steve’s side. 

She’s pretty cute, albeit an odd match for Steve. He had always figured Steve would end up with a cheerleader or some perfectly prissy blonde. Robin is a little nerdy, her style bordering on alternative, and she is anything but prissy. He would go as far as to call her a decent choice. 

But Robin just doesn’t suit Steve in a way he can't quite put his finger on.

Steve shifts his weight and leans more towards Robin. It’s a small change in position, a miniscule change really, except for the fact Steve body presses against him in all the wrong ways. 

Eddie feels his shoulders tense in a way that has nothing to do with the fact he is about to become the once-defeated king of personal space invasion. 

Absolutely not. 

Robin casts Eddie a quick look before making up her mind and then the floodgates open. She is whispering at such a rate, Eddie would be surprised if she was speaking English at all. He catches bits and pieces. A name. Ricky?

He drums his fingers along his beer as he tries to ignore the way Steve’s ass brushes against his thigh with every small movement. That every time Steve responds to Robin  animatedly, his body moves with it and his ass comes awfully close to—

He should move.

He should, but he won’t. 

Moving means losing. 

It’s only when Robin pulls Steve to the living room that Eddie feels like he can breathe again.

Robin insists Eddie must join them for movie night. 

Somehow, Eddie has become a third to the dynamic duo. It’s nothing on par with the bond those two share. It can’t be, because they are on another level. Something Eddie hasn’t quite observed before. 

This is probably what they mean by soulmates.

They aren’t dating though. Robin told him—insisted on it, in fact—when he had made the assumption. 

Somehow Eddie likes that. 

He likes the fact that Steve and Robin are just friends. It makes him feel like he fits in better, even when he knows Robin includes him out of some weird sense of duty rather than genuine friendship.

That’s fine with him. 

Eddie’s not a close-friendship kinda guy anyway. He has friends for D&D, friends from the band, and now he also has friends with whom he shares a strange supernatural trauma. 

Each in its own little corner, as all things should be.

He likes Robin. She’s fun and quirky. Her mind works in a way that makes it hard for him to anticipate what she’ll say next. She’s fucking smart to boot. 

Steve—well, that’s more complex. They aren’t on bad terms per se. Actually, back in the Upside Down, there was a moment Eddie felt they might be friends. But now that’s all over and done, Steve feels more distant, more aloof. It’s not like Steve shows dislike towards him, but Eddie is sure there is some amount of judgment there. And maybe it’s the way he dresses, black leather and ripped jeans and silver, whereas Steve wears those preppy little polos and perfectly ironed shorts. 

Or maybe it’s Dustin, and the fact that he won’t stop talking about him and DnD and that sick Metallica solo that left the kid starry-eyed and worshiping the ground he walks on.

He’s pretty sure it makes Steve jealous.

Steve and Robin work at Family Video. Together. It’s strangely adorable. Hard to believe they aren’t dating, but whatever floats their boat. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised to be invited to their platonic spring wedding.

They’re weird like that. 

Every Friday, Robin hosts movie nights with some new arrivals that didn’t get rented for the day. It's a neat perk of the job, although he isn’t much of a film guy. Too many hobbies, too little time. Although he does have a few favorites, some that have served valiantly by inspiring new D&D campaigns. Good shit is rare and there are plenty of books. 

Regardless, he accepts Robin’s invitation.

Loch Nora is way out and he hasn’t been there often. He usually avoids it, even by car, because these people aren’t shy when it comes to calling the cops. In fact, Eddie has had them called on him for simply driving thought before.

When Eddie walks up to the house, one of Steve’s neighbors eyes him suspiciously from behind the garden fence. Eddie resists the urge to flip her off. Don’t old people have better stuff to do? Probably not. He balls his fists and stomps a little more aggressively towards the door.

The woman gasps quietly.

Steve’s parents will hear about that probably. Hawkins is a small town and people talk, Steve’s fancy little neighborhood is even smaller.

He rings the bell and stares at the heavy red doors. A few seconds later, Steve opens them.

“Hey, man.” Steve’s voice is casual, notably void of any kind of antagonism and Eddie takes it as a good sign. Steve steps aside to let him through. 

The hallway is big and the ceilings are high. It’s decorated in a distinctly rich-people style, the kind you see in magazines. 

“He’s finally here?” Eddie hears Robin call from somewhere in the house.

Steve guides him along and asks if he wants a beer. He leaves for what is presumably the kitchen and Eddie is left alone. 

He looks around the living room. It is huge, bigger than the entire trailer, but it feels empty somehow. Barely lived in. There is a three-seat sofa facing a large TV, larger than he has ever seen before. Besides that, there are two chairs facing the seating area. They appear in pristine condition, hardly sat on. 

Eddie decides to sit on the sofa. He plays with the rings on his fingers as he waits for either Robin or Steve to return. The silver skull disappears and reappears maybe five times before Robin walks in carrying a bag.  Only a moment later Steve returns with three bottles of beer. The good stuff, Eddie notes. Not whatever has to pass for beer back at the trailer.

Robin empties the bag on the floor in front of the TV and rummages through some VHS tapes, holding them up while Steve comments. 

“We’ve seen that one last week—I can’t stand to see her face again—Fine, fine, let’s go with that one.”

Eddie is fine with anything because he will most likely think it's trash anyway—especially if Steve has a say in it. 

Steve lets himself fall in the middle of the sofa while Robin works on the VHS player. It’s not a large sofa by any means, but it isn’t small either. Eddie feels like there is plenty of room on the other side where Robin will take her seat soon. 

It probably isn’t so, but Eddie can’t help but wonder if Steve knows, whether he’s challenging him. 

If maybe Steve can’t stand Eddie being the King of Personal Space Invasion. 

Such a greedy boy.

After all, Steve already has one ‘king’ title to his name. He should leave some for the rest of them.

“Have you heard of this one yet?” Steve asks as he slings his arms over the back of the couch. 

Eddie feels the ghost of his hand lingers behind his neck. The touch is featherlight, barely touching his hair, but it feels like Steve is playing on the offensive here.

Eddie feels himself grow flustered. And fuck, this is ridiculous, right? 

“Remind me what this abomination is called again?” Eddie composes himself.

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes in exaggerated disagreement. “Ferris Bueller’s day off. Right up your alley.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s about a guy playing hooky. I recall missing you from class every now and then.” Steve gives him a knowing smile.

Robin joins them on the sofa. She rests her back on the armrest with her legs against Steve’s thighs. She probably doesn’t realize that she is effectively pressing Steve further into Eddie’s space. 

“Oh, you recall huh? I didn’t know I was disappointing my fans,” Eddie tries to keep his tone light and shifts in his seat. 

Steve responds with a small chuckle but any further responses are drowned out by the sound of the movie starting.

The movie starts slow and Eddie tries to focus. He can’t seem to make himself comfortable and it has everything to do with Harrington’s startling audacity to be so physically present. 

Around the halfway point of the movie, Robin moves herself in a lying position with her legs over Steve’s lap. Eddie looks down on her socked feet as they move mindlessly in tune with the soundtrack.

In some ways, Ferris Bueller reminds him of Steve with his floppy hair, enigmatic personality, and the way everything just works out for him. 

Perfect Ferris with his stupidly gorgeous girlfriend.

The place where his thigh touches Steve itches for him to move it, but Eddie keeps still. He’s cool, he can handle this. 

This. Whatever Steve is doing. 

That is until he feels Steve’s hand droop down from the backrest and settles itself in his neck. Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat, a soft gasp escapes his lips—too soft to hear, or so he hopes. 

Steve sits close, too close. 

From the corner of his eye, Eddie can see Steve shoot him a curious glance. 

There is no way Steve doesn’t know what he is doing. 

No way.

Eddie crouches down in front of the sci-fi wall. He does this more often now—hang out at Family Video when Steve and Robin are working. Whenever he’s bored or has nothing better to do, he somehow finds himself there. 

Sometimes he wonders if he’s imposing himself. Inserting himself into their friendship. But both Robin and Steve greet him with smiles. They welcome him into their little world and it makes Eddie a little weak.

Eddie is used to feeling unwanted. 

An outsider. 

A freak. 

This kind of friendship is new to him and he hasn’t been able to give it a proper place yet. It feels like a fresh layer of paint, still sticky to the touch.

Still, he goes there often.

So often that people sometimes confuse him for an employee, asking him questions about where to find stuff. Eddie always points them in the wrong direction, even though by now he knows the shop by heart.

Mainstream movies are always displayed at eye height. Easy to reach—it’s what most people come here for. Not Eddie. Those types of movies hardly interest him, even though he will watch them with Robin and Steve during their movie nights. 

They like the movies and Eddie likes their company.

He hasn’t watched a movie by himself in a long time, but recently Dustin told him about something. Something with aliens and Sigourney Weaver who wears panties that are too small. It must be near the bottom. The good stuff is always at the bottom.

He feels Steve before he hears him—the weight of his legs on Eddie’s back.

Steve restocks above him and Eddie’s mind is screaming. Steve has no regard for the fact that Eddie was here first. He stocks the shelf, reaching over Eddie’s head, leaning his weight into him. 

It makes him nervous, makes the necks of his hair stand up on end. And really, it’s ridiculous right? No one would do this kind of thing on purpose. 

No one but Steve.

A treacherous part of his mind craves more, wants Steve to lean his full weight into him until he can feel it all against his back. It’s dumb and a total betrayal of friendship, so Eddie shoves the thought away, shoves it good and deep, buries it in darkness, never to be seen again.

On the small TV from the ceiling, Back to the Future is playing and Eddie can hear Marty McFly declare, ‘Nobody calls me a chicken!’

Eddie won’t be a chicken either.

It's unbearably hot, and Eddie is certain he'll perish if he stays another second in the trailer. 

The insulation is poor and the metal shell traps the punishing heat of the heatwave, making it impossible for even the coolness of the night to offer any relief.

Eddie hasn’t slept well for days.

He is fanning himself with some trashy magazine when the phone rings and it’s Steve’s voice on the other end. Steve’s parents have air conditioning and a pool and Eddie would be an idiot to refuse an invitation to a Harrington-exclusive pool party.

He arrives at Steve’s house wearing a Dio shirt over his swimming trunks and a pair of flip flops that are falling apart. He doesn’t care what he looks like though. Style be damned, he just wants to have the least amount of layers to shed before he can hit the pool. 

Steve’s garden is big. The pool is big. It smells like chlorine and sunscreen and the sound of loud splashing echoes against the house.

Lucas and Dustin are in some sort of competition to see who can drown who the fastest while Max and El cheer them on. It’s all good fun, except for where Max seems much more invested in Dustin’s untimely death than El, who is cheering for them both from the side of the pool.

On one of the sun chairs, Mike and Will are huddled together—hair wet and knees pressed together as they read a comic and speak with hushed voices. They don’t seem the types for rough-housing. Mike always seemed the most reserved of the three knuckleheads he welcomed into Hellfire. With the return Bowlcut and Supergirl, the group seems more balanced, and Mike a little less cranky than he used to be.

Next to them, Robin rubs sunscreen on herself. She’s pale and freckled—the type of skin that burns easily. Eddie is the same, pale but without the freckles. He should probably mooch some off her soon.

Sunlight is bad for tattoos, and he’s very serious about that. 

“You runnin’ a daycare here, Harrington?” Eddie greets as he saunters into the backyard.

He doesn’t ring the bell, not anymore. He’s been over at Steve’s house a couple of times now for movie night and quickly learned the backdoor is always unlocked.

Steve sits in a hammock, dressed in swimming trunks and reading a magazine with a car on the front. He looks up when he hears Eddie and unapologetically smiles at him. An easy kind of smile that Eddie can't quite mirror.

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out when he notices him. He tries to swim to the edge of the pool but is promptly intercepted and tackled by Lucas. While Dustin is busy drowning, Eddie loses his shirt and flip flops. The moment the boy rears his curly head above water, Eddie launches himself in front of them. The impact creates a wave, splashing enough water in their faces to temporarily stun them.

Dustin shrieks, wiping at his eyes and Lucas releases him in the violence of Eddie’s attack.

“You little shitheads better swim fast.” Eddie grins. Lucas and Dustin scatter in the pool making sounds that sound somewhere between amusement and genuine fear for Eddie’s wrath.

The pool is great and Eddie finally feels cool after three full days of overheating. 

After getting his fill, he makes his way over to Steve.

“I should’ve come here sooner,” Eddie says, hair dripping wet. Under the sound of Steve’s protests, Eddie climbs into the hammock and seats himself on the other side. It’s a tight fit and Steve complains as Eddie’s feet hit his magazine.

“You’re dripping all over my read, dude!” 

Steve’s frowns at him, but in a way that he doesn’t really mean it. Eddie sees him do it to the kids as well when they’re pushing boundaries, like he should be mad, but actually finds it humorous.

A great awful babysitter kids love to have because they can work him with big eyes and batting lashes. 

They’re a tangle of legs and the hammock hangs low to the ground. It’s not made for two adult men, Eddie knows, but it feels more fun this way. 

Steve doesn’t comment on it. He settles comfortably and continues reading, even when Eddie’s water-streaked legs poke his side. 

Steve only swats at Eddie’s feet when he pushes the magazine closed. The silence between them is comfortable and Eddie closes his eyes. The sound of pages turning, birds singing and the endless squabbling of the kids eases his mind.

When the sun sinks behind the trees, Steve leaves the hammock to fire up the grill.

Eddie watches lazily as Steve puts an apron over his naked torso, ties it over the hollow of his back. Warm skin, slightly tanned, with a little mole to the left. 

“Quit drooling, doofus.” Robin settles herself in Steve’s old place.

“I wasn’t—”

“Right.” Robin smiles at him and it's so gentle that Eddie forgets to be snarky. The hammock swings slightly from Robin’s addition, but it doesn’t drip as deep as when Steve sat there.

A little later, they’re eating burgers with a hint of smoke. They’re all together, the kids, Steve, Robin. 

A strange feeling settles in him as he looks around him. 

This must be what family is supposed to feel like. Safe. Comfortable. Belonging.

It’s unfamiliar yet so welcome.

“You can stay the night,” Steve says once they’re back in the hammock. Dusk has settled in and Eddie can only barely make out the expression on Steve's face. 

Around him, the sound of crickets embraces the night and their skin smells like citronella to ward off mosquitos.

A little while ago, Nancy and Jonathan picked up the kids. Only Robin remains, but she quickly claimed the guest room and retreated there once the sun disappeared behind the house.

The air is still warm, but Steve’s legs against his own are warmer. Eddie looks up at the sky where stars linger in the violet absence of the sun.

“We could stay out here.” Eddie stretches his arms behind his head. “Anything better than the trailer.” And he would like to, because out here it’s cool and nice and sharing the hammock with Steve feels strangely comforting.

“Hold on.” Steve ungracefully lifts himself from the hammock, leaving it to swing in its wake. Eddie watches him enter the house, sees lights turn on and off again. 

When Steve returns, he carries a light blanket. He settles himself back in the hammock, legs tangling once more before he throws it over the both of them.

Eddie pokes Steve’s cheek with his toe and unsurprisingly, Steve has no reaction to it. It seems that way no matter what Eddie does.

“You ever slept out here before?” 

“When I was a kid,” Steve says, “I sometimes built a little tent in the garden from cushions and the like. My parents allowed me to sleep there in the summer if it was warm enough. It’d be covered in mosquito bites the next morning, but it felt like an adventure.” Eddie hears Steve’s smile in his voice. A fond memory.

“Sucks to be a mosquito tonight. We smell like shit,” Eddie quips. The lemony smell of citronella is piercing and it sears itself into his memory as much as it does his skin. 

Steve nudges his leg into Eddie’s. The hairs on it tickle his skin.

“You ever slept outside?”

“Hm…once a few years back. Got in a fight with Wayne and trailers aren’t that big. I walked out and slept by a tree. The next morning when I walked back I saw a snake coiled up on the ground with a footstep on it. Made me never want to sleep outside again.” Eddie chuckles, but it’s a little humorless. Wayne had been worried sick, and that fight was all dumb and stupid. 

“Shit, a snake?” Steve’s voice sounds uneasy, and Eddie wants to get it back to how it was, the way it sounded with fondness on his mind.

“Not a venomous one,” he offers.

“Did you step on it?”

“I think so. Poor fucker.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t sleep out here then,” Steve says. In the darkness Eddie can see him turn his head to scan the ground, looking for snakes presumably.

After a while, Steve makes the executive decision to head inside. Eddie follows him up the stairs. He didn’t bring a change of clothes, didn’t anticipate staying really. He only has a shirt and his swimming shorts. 

They pass the hallway, enter a room and Steve flicks the lights on. He’s never been in Steve’s room before and he takes a moment to look around.

It's all plaid walls and matching drapes. Above his desk hangs a framed picture of a car. It’s like Steve's parents bought his room straight from a folder and Steve’s absence from it feels loud. 

Hideously impersonal. 

Not at all like Steve.

“Robin has the guest room. That only leaves the couch, but trust me, it will break your back,” Steve says as he clears some clothes off his bed. “ I thought we could share mine. It will be a bit of a tight squeeze…” Steve trails and looks at the bed with his hands on his hips. 

Eddie knows he should take the couch. 

It would be the polite thing to do.

Yet the comfort of a real bed calls to him.

It’s not a big deal.

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie tries to keep his tone cool, but it’s like playing chicken on steroids. On the other hand, maybe this will be the moment he can finally win from Steve.

Steve turns back to Eddie and gives him a once-over. 

Suddenly, he feels very naked, standing there in just his swimwear. Steve nods to himself, coming to a silent conclusion as he turns to his drawers.

“Here.” He hands Eddie a pair of boxers. “For sleeping.” 

Eddie takes them, grateful, but it's also kinda fucking weird to be wearing Steve’s boxers.

It’s not a big deal.

“I’m gonna hit the shower real quick. There’s another bathroom down the hall. You can just take one of the towels. I’ll show you.”

Hot water hits Eddie’s skin and he closes his eyes as the scent of Citronella slowly dilutes until it’s gone altogether. 

He’ll be sharing a bed with Steve fucking Harrington and isn’t that a wild thought? Definitely not something he’d imagine when he sat in the back of the class, three years prior, staring at the back of Steve’s stupid hair.

Nor did he imagine Steve would be immune to his little proximity game.

That he could grow to tolerate Steve’s presence.

Or even like it. 

Life's a fucking riot.

When he walks back into Steve’s room, clad in baby-blue cotton boxers, Steve is already in bed. When he hears Eddie enter, he scoots over, making space.

Eddie settles in beside him, on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Good night, dude,” Steve says as he leans over Eddie to turn off the light. Eddie can smell his deodorant and unfamiliar shampoo, and Steve’s skin radiates heat where it touches him. 

The bed is not meant for two people. 

Eddie can feel his heartbeat in his throat. It thumps so insistently, he's sure Steve must feel the bed move with it, but if he does, he doesn’t show it.

He turns to his side, facing away from Steve. When they’re both on their sides, the bed feels bigger, but that doesn’t stop the scent of it from engulfing him in a tight embrace. It smells like Steve. 

Everywhere. 

Clinging to his skin. 

Sinking into his pores.

He can feel Steve shift behind him, moving his head closer to the shared pillow until he feels Steve’s nose in his neck and his arms folded against his back.

His breath hitches in his throat and Eddie tries not to make a sound when he feels Steve’s lips against his neck as he lets out a sleepy sigh.

Nobody calls me a chicken, he hears Marty McFly echo in his mind.

Eddie isn’t sure who is playing who right now.

Chapter Text

Eddie has no idea why it bothers him that Steve is out with some girl, nor why he’s painting his nails with Robin.

He doesn’t paint them often. It’s more effort than it’s worth and Eddie can’t keep his hands still for long enough to allow the varnish to dry. 

Still, he accepts when Robin asks him to hang out. 

Her room is simple and small, yet it radiates personality.

It radiates Robin. 

Surfaces are littered with trinkets — a cliché souvenir from Indianapolis, a picture of little Robin with a cat, some colorful pebbles she probably collected. She has a French horn sitting neatly in a case, and a stand with sheet music.  Her walls are covered in posters — female artists like Blondie and The Runaways. 

He doesn’t question the way her eyes linger on him when she tells him about Steve’s untrackable love life. 

When he asks Robin about her love life, she promptly blushes and looks away. 

“I’m working on it,” she says, uncharacteristically shy. 

Eddie eyes the posters and feels something click in his mind.

When he gets home he looks at his nails. The varnish is dented where he bumped it into things before fully drying and his thumb is already chipped from where he bites it sometimes.

A few days later, when he sees Steve at Family Video, the black on his nails resembles a collection of small black islands in a sea of pink.

Call it a nervous tick.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?” Eddie asks Robin.

For a moment, a mild shock paints her face, but then it’s gone. Like the first snow in November, when the ground is still warm from summer.

Robin is a stellar actress. 

“Have you?” she asks, and Eddie should have seen that coming. 

He opens his mouth to answer but before he can make a sound Robin cuts him off.

“Middle school doesn’t count when you’re over twenty.”

“Well, shit, you’re onto me, Buckley.” Eddie chuckles.

Eddie knows. Or at least he thinks he does.

Girls who like Joan Jett like girls. 

Eddie has seen it before. At the parties, he attends when he’s selling.

The more niche — the more underground — the better the buyers. 

Inexperienced high schoolers hardly fill his wallet. 

So he goes to the parties filled with leather and smoke and music that thumps in tandem with his heart, and there he sells. There are no rules at those kinds of parties, only intoxication, flesh, sweat, and lust.

He doesn’t partake himself. The women who try to wind him up — to get his shit for free — he turns them down.

He has to. 

He’s got a supplier to pay and this is his job.

Men don’t require free shit. They will flirt for a quick fuck.

He turns them down too, but a part of him feels flattered

“Have you ever kissed a guy?” Robin pulls him back from his thoughts.

They look at each other and Eddie realizes Robin knows too. Of course, she does. She knew before he realized it himself.

Because he has never kissed a guy.

But he wants to.

It's Friday and movie night is cancelled because Steve is on a date with Jennifer.

She’s all wrong for Steve. Too bland. Eddie knows it won’t last but he still feels bitter. 

Eddie takes Robin to one of his dark clubs. The kinds where anything goes and the people don’t care. They go, not to deal this night, but to get Robin out there.

The girl is a disaster and Eddie knows she just needs a little experience, a little boost, and she will do fine with Vickie.

Vickie, a redhead. 

Robin told him, and Eddie can vaguely recall her from the party at Robin’s house. Eddie supposes she’s a nice girl and he hopes — really hopes for Robin — that Vickie likes her as much as she likes her.

They go to a thrift store and buy something black just to tear it to shreds — to make it better — and Robin looks fantastic. Messy hair, dark make-up. A real Joan Jett. If Eddie was a girl, we would go wild for her. 

They paint their nails too and this time Eddie’s look better because Robin did them for him.

When Eddie looks in the mirror he thinks he looks pretty fucking good with his low-buttoned black shirt that shows off his tats. 

The club is dark and the atmosphere heavy. Eddie hasn’t really been there to party himself, only to sell, and it’s strange to be on the other side of it.

Bodies move like snakes, coiling around each other. He guides Robin to the bar and sticks up two fingers to the barman while mouthing for gin. He hands one of the tiny glasses to Robin and she frowns at it.

“For courage,” Eddie says in her ear, his voice hardly sounding above the insistent bass. He lifts up the glass and Robin reciprocates his toast. Then, after Eddie tips his own shot back, she follows suit.

She scrunches her nose and Eddie wonders if this was her first. Probably. He won’t ask her. 

Clubs aren’t made for talking.

Eddie grabs her hands and leads her through the crowd. They settle, surrounded by bodies, and Eddie moves his hands to her hips — to guide her. He can see she’s out of her element but soon the gin will loosen her up and Eddie will make her flirt with some girls. Or maybe leave her to swim in the sea of bodies for a while, to see if she floats.

When the gin hits, Robin’s movements become looser. They aren’t particularly enticing, but they’re quirky and cute. Sweat is forming on her brow in the heat of the crowd when a girl with a black pixie cut steals Robin away.

Eddie leans against the wall and watches them dance from a distance — to keep an eye on her. The girl seems nice enough, doesn’t force herself, and Robin seems more confident as she leans forward to say something in her ear. 

“You dealin’ tonight?” 

Eddie looks next to him and sees a man in his late twenties with dark brown hair and green eyes. Eddie recognizes him vaguely and he supposes he may have sold to him before — if the question wasn’t a giveaway yet.

“Not tonight.”

“Too bad,” the man says. He takes his time to look Eddie over before continuing, “You’re looking for a bit of fun?”

They share a joint — Eddie’s personal stash — and then they’re making out, sloppy and wet, and Eddie has never kissed a guy before. He feels stubble on his cheek and smells the geranium of his perfume and sweat.

The guy’s brown hair tickles his cheeks and it’s the same shade as Steve’s.

The man’s hands are strong where they trace above Eddie’s jeans, his fingertips calloused — maybe from playing guitar or something like that.

And that’s not like Steve at all.

Steve is always on his mind.

He is everywhere.

Eddie feels like he’s going crazy in his absence. 

It’s even worse in his presence.

But that is hardly a problem because Steve is busy with Jennifer

Robin and Eddie have a movie night without him that Friday, curled up on the couch of Wayne’s trailer.

They watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and Robin sings along with the songs like the band kid she is. 

After their night out, something seems to have shifted in her, even though all she did was talk and dance. She seems more comfortable in her skin and when she speaks of Vickie, there is less of an anxious undertone to it. Eddie is happy for her.

He doesn’t tell her about what happened that night. 

Nor that he realized he may be in love with Steve Harrington.

Jennifer lasts a whole two weeks.

Steve drags Eddie to some dumb party in a last-ditch effort to get her back. 

It’s pathetic really, and it grates on Eddie’s nerves. Eddie doesn’t want to be there, but Robin couldn’t go and Eddie is just that fucking nice.

It’s not like the little get-together they had at Robin’s, which was mostly people from band — an effort to get with Vickie, Eddie realises in hindsight. This party is far out of the realms of Eddie’s comfort zone, especially when he’s not dealing. It’s filled with the type of guys who would make fists at Eddie, call him a freak, the types he loved to provoke in the cafeteria — a mating ground for meatheads and bimbos. 

Steve has had too much to drink. Eddie can see it in the way he staggers while he watches Jennifer get cozy with some lanky loser.

Eddie comes up behind Steve, rests his chin on his shoulders, and slides his arms under Steve’s, taking hold of the beer in his hand.

“I think you’ve had enough, Steve.”

It’s for his own good.

Eddie knows he is pushing the boundaries of what is socially acceptable and he sees some people shooting them glances. A mix between curiosity and disgust. It’s not like jocks don’t do this all the time. They will slap each other's ass and say ‘nice dick’ and somehow that is acceptable. But when it’s someone like Eddie, it suddenly is too much

Suddenly it’s too real.

Steve turns around in Eddie’s arms and they are standing close.

“Hey, I was drinking that.” Steve frowns and his eyes are unfocused as they shift between Eddie’s before drifting down to his mouth. 

Fuck.

Eddie isn’t sure what Steve is about to do as he leans forward. Maybe he has just lost his balance, but it sure as hell looks a lot like Steve is about to kiss him.

And this party filled with loose-fisted jocks isn’t the time nor place for a sexual awakening of any kind. Kissing a guy is far outside of the realm of plausible deniability.

Eddie pushes Steve back by his shoulders and slings an arm around him, laughing nervously.

“How about we go for a smoke, you and I.” 

Steve furrows his brows.

They sit outside on the lawn. It’s a gathering spot for those that are too far gone. People are vomiting or getting it on, mostly one or the other, but occasionally simultaneously. 

The air is still warm and the sky is just barely settling into a dark blue. The time of dusk that somehow feels darker than night.

Eddie pulls his zippo from his pocket and lights a cigarette between his lips. He inhales deeply, letting the smoke rest in his lungs before slowly letting it escape through his lips.

Next to him, Steve holds his head in his hands and sighs miserably.

“Shit man,” he mutters. 

“Here.” Eddie nudges Steve in his side and the latter raises his head. 

Eddie holds the cigarette out for him and Steve reaches for it with unsteady hands.

“Wait, lemme,” Eddie says as he brings the cigarette up to Steve’s mouth. 

Steve’s lips are warm against his fingers as he takes a shaky drag and Steve coughs a little when he exhales.

“Social smoker?”

“Hm...yeah,” Steve replies. He takes hold of Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips for another drag. The press of dry lips against his fingers is more insistent than before. 

Eddie stares into the distance as he writes this Steve into his memory. Drunk, the smell of beer and smoke, and water hitting dry grass from sprinklers of the house across the street. Warm air and distant music, and people talking and yelling, yet it’s just the two of them — a world within a world.

Once they finish the cigarette, Eddie stands up and dusts his jeans. He offers a hand to Steve, who takes it gratefully. He is unsteady on his legs and Eddie holds him up by his shoulder.

“Lemme take you home.”

“I can’t stand being in that house,” Steve slurs.

“It will be okay, Stevie.” Eddie guides Steve to his van and counts his lucky stars he had quit drinking after one beer. He sets Steve in the passenger seat and leans over to buckle his seatbelt. 

When Eddie pulls away, Steve grabs his arm and when Eddie looks up, Steve lays his hand on the curve of Eddie’s neck, on top of his hair and it pulls when Steve tugs him closer.

“Thank you,” Steve says. His gaze is unsteady but piercing and Eddie feels himself freeze for a moment.

His mouth suddenly feels too dry and Eddie nervously wets his lips. “Anytime, Stevie.”

He sees Steve’s eyes drift down again, just for a second, and then Eddie pulls away.

When he climbs behind the steering wheel he turns his music off, allowing Steve to sober up in relative peace.

The white noise of tires hitting the road, the engine running, and warm wind gushing through an open window — just a crack — fills the car. 

“I didn’t even like her,” Steve says after a while.

The road is unlit and dark and Eddie has to keep his eyes trained ahead. He isn’t sure if Steve is talking to him anyway, or if it’s just drunken rambling. 

“Is that so.” Eddie tries to keep his voice cool.

“She was boring. We had nothing in common.”

Eddie hums.

“I don’t want to be alone…” Steve trails, almost a whisper, barely louder than the wind — like Eddie wasn’t supposed to hear.

“Believe me, Steve, you will not end up alone. You’re like, a lady’s magnet if I ever saw one.”

Steve scoffs in response and he turns his head towards the window.

When they arrive at Steve’s house, Eddie gets him out of the car and digs through Steve’s pockets in front of the door to get his keys.

By now, the house feels familiar — like a showroom or an image from an IKEA catalog.

Eddie understands Steve hates being here alone. 

Steve’s weight is heavy on his shoulder and he isn’t sure if it’s really because Steve is drunk, or because he has given up on walking altogether in favor of having Eddie do the heavy lifting. 

He guides Steve up the stairs and lays him on his bed. His legs dangle off the edge and Steve lays his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Hold on one sec,” Eddie says and Steve just groans in response.

Eddie returns with Advil for the morning and a glass of water, and sets it on the bedside table before he sits down on the bed next to Steve.

“Up you go.” Eddie lifts Steve up in a sitting position and by now he’s sure that Steve is just being a drama queen because he doesn’t seem half as drunk as he pretends to be.

He brings the glass to Steve’s mouth and makes him drink even when Steve initially refuses.

Steve will thank him in the morning.

“Lift your arms,” Eddie instructs.

Steve is looking at him with those big brown eyes. 

And fuck, if that doesn’t make Eddie’s heart do a little summersault.

Steve blinks slowly but obliges and Eddie strips him down to his boxers and lays him down.

When Eddie is about to pull away, Steve grabs his wrist and it’s more steady, more forceful than someone drunk has any right to be.

"C'mere." Steve pulls on his arm and Eddie thinks this is probably a terrible idea. 

And look, Eddie might not stick that close to social conventions — or the law, for that matter — but he is a fucking gentleman and Steve is drunk.

So Eddie resists.

Steve pulls more insistently. 

“Stay.” It’s almost a whisper and it’s so desperate it sends a jolt down Eddie’s spine. 

Steve looks at him, eyes more steady. Perhaps the water had helped.

“Fine, I’ll stay,” he relents. “I’ll be down the hall—”

Steve pulls again. “No, here.” 

And Eddie feels himself lose his balance, or maybe it is just his urge to resist. He falls on Steve’s chest and who wraps his arms around him.

Steve holds him and even with Eddie halfway off the bed, it is nice. 

But it’s not sensible.

“At least let me change, Steve. Have you ever slept in jeans before? It’s not fun.” Sensible, Eddie reiterates to himself.

Steve whines when Eddie pries himself away. 

Steve is a needy drunk. 

And a little whiny. 

And a lot affectionate.

Eddie undresses quickly and moves Steve so he’s actually using the bed in its intended orientation. 

He slips in at Steve’s side, muscles tense as he tries to keep his breathing steady.

Is it possible to die of your heart beating too fast? Eddie is sure he read something about it somewhere and if so, this should be the moment he becomes a religious man.

Steve puts an arm over Eddie’s chest and burrows his face in Eddie’s neck, letting out a content sigh.

As Steve’s breathing slowly evens out, Eddie stares up at the black void of the ceiling.

He realizes Steve has won. There is no way Eddie can beat him at this game of proximity.

Steve, the new king of Personal Space Invasion.

Eddie realizes he may have stopped playing somewhere along the way.

There are no more girls. 

It makes Eddie happier than it should. Happier than he should allow himself to feel because it can only result in heartbreak.

Yet he can’t help himself. He takes all Steve will give him. Opens his heart to a world of hurt.

Eddie stays over at Steve’s place often.

Routine carves itself into their life like a glacier, slow and heavy, working its way through layers of stone.

There are no more girls and Eddie can almost pretend that what they share is something more — as long as it remains unnamed.

Steve doesn’t ask Eddie to join him in his bed anymore — he doesn’t have to.  It has become a silent agreement among them and surely there are places where platonic bed-sharing is the norm. Probably somewhere in Europe. 

Harrington is an Irish name, right?

Eddie always wakes up before Steve does. It’s not hard to do, because Steve likes to sleep in. He sleeps through alarm clocks like the sound is ambient and Eddie wonders how he ever gets to work on time. 

Some of those mornings, they wake up pressed together — Eddie’s back against Steve like they’re lovers.

Those flitting moments between sleep and wakefulness are the best because Eddie can pretend.

“My parents will be home this week,” Steve says that morning. He leans against the counter next to where Eddie is pouring them coffee. 

It is early and Steve will head to work soon. Shy sunlight peeks through the trees behind Steve’s house, into the kitchen where it draws lines on Steve’s thighs. Outside the birds sing like their lives depend on it, but in Eddie’s heart, it's quiet. The mornings smell like coffee and deodorant and freshly brushed teeth. 

His shoulders stiffen and his grip on the coffee pot tightens. He knew it would come to this eventually. He prepared himself for it, but it still stings.

“You must be happy,” Eddie says instead, eyes trained on the cups in front of him. They are full, but Steve can’t see that. Eddie can pretend a moment longer, to gather himself before he faces Steve.

“Not really…I mean, it makes no difference to me. They work late, or they have dinners with friends. It hardly changed anything except now I have to take them into consideration.”

“And that means they probably don’t dig me hanging around, right?” 

Sleeping over, several nights a week, in bed with their perfect son.

“Probably not.” 

Steve lets the words hang there and Eddie feels like he should take them, chew them up and spit them out into something better.

“Wayne works night shifts.”

The words are out before Eddie can stop himself. He hands Steve his coffee, just to have something to do as he sees Steve think. Anxiety wraps itself around him like a snake, squeezing his heart until Steve breaks him free.

Eddie imagines the snake from the woods, coiled up with a footprint. 

Steve smiles, so carefree, so utterly unaware of the things it does to Eddie's heart and reaches over to smooth a curl behind Eddie’s ear. 

And this is new — this intimacy in the undeniable clarity of daylight. 

Eddie feels his pulse race and all he can do is gape at the back of Steve’s head, who is already walking over to the table with his coffee in hand. 

“I’ll grab our toothbrushes before I head out,” Steve says while he pulls out a chair.

Chapter Text

“You have a lot of stuff.” 

Steve looks around Eddie’s room, which is small and crowded. It makes Eddie nervous and he shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he studies Steve’s face. He is looking for a trace of judgment, maybe disgust, but it never comes.

Eddie’s room is nothing like Steve’s. 

Where Steve’s room lacks any trace of him, Eddie’s room nearly explodes with it — every object a piece in the puzzle that is him. It feels deeply personal, almost naked, to have Steve observe it and touch it. It exposes a part of him — the real him — and Eddie has no control over the interpretation. 

It’s a type of vulnerability he purposefully left behind when he started dressing more provocatively. 

People think shit about him, but at least he knows what he makes them think. Like sacrificial metal — one of the few things he remembers from Chemistry — where they put Zinc on the metal hulls of ships, so the Zinc corrodes rather than the ship itself.

Guide their thoughts.

Keep the ship untouched.

“Eh, yeah, I’m sorry. I should’ve cleaned it before you came over.” Eddie quickly kicks a pair of dirty socks under his bed — like that would make a difference.

“No, I like it. It’s very you.” And that is a positive, right?  

He isn’t sure.

Eddie’s bed is unmade, clothes are strewn about, and he has been sleeping with about ten cassettes in his bed for a week now. At least, for the days he had slept at home, which admittedly, hadn’t been a lot.

Steve looks around his room, touching his stuff with curious fingers. Curious but careful, even though it’s nowhere near as expensive as a single glass in the Harrington house. 

Well, except for his guitar maybe.

“I’ve never heard you play,” Steve says while he runs a finger along the snares. The touch elicits a faint sound and its echo rings in Eddie’s head.

“I could, sometime…if you want.”

“I’d like that.” Steve smiles, and Eddie feels like the sun is exploding in his face, smacking him death-center with heat and radiance.

Like freaking Helios.

Steve puts his bag down on Eddie’s bed; clothes, a toothbrush, and that ridiculous Farrah Fawcett hairspray he uses. Steve doesn’t need much else. For someone with such a big house, Steve has surprisingly little stuff.

He sits down while Eddie clears one of the shelves on his wall. It’s mostly junk and trinkets and he tosses it in a drawer that has become a catch-all for random things.

“You play any instruments?” Eddie asks Steve as he kicks the drawer shut.

“I can play the piano — only sheet music though, no improvising. I’ve had lessons since I was a kid. Only quit after I made it to the swimming team…”

“That’s cool. You should play me something too when you get the chance.”

“You have yourself a deal, Munson.” Steve smiles and he seems relaxed — more relaxed than he ever was at home.

It’s nearly dinner time when Eddie realizes the fridge is empty. Steve finished unpacking a while ago and Eddie had frantically organized his room and changed his bedding after he settled Steve on the couch. 

He’s a little embarrassed by the state of his room, but Steve insists that it's fine — that he likes it even. And that is just a crazy notion to Eddie because Steve’s house is like a castle and it's clean. 

It has a pool for fuck’s sake. 

But Steve hates his house and he likes Eddie’s room, and that’s, well, it’s nice actually.

They go grocery shopping together and that’s something they’ve never done before. Steve makes sure the fridge is stocked whenever Eddie stays over, or Eddie arrives with take-out.

It feels weird to be out in public with him; to be amongst people who know them — or at least know Steve. Eddie thought Steve would feel more ashamed to be seen with him in public, but he has absolutely no qualms with it. Steve doesn’t seem to notice the lingering gazes people give them, even though it’s something Eddie is acutely aware of. He can sense the difference in the way people stare, different from how they look at him when he’s alone. Less disapproving, more curious — maybe even a little bewildered. 

They must look like an odd pair. 

Eddie exaggeratedly swings the shopping basket as he helplessly follows Steve through the aisles. Steve seems to know exactly where he is going. Of course, he does; Steve must do groceries all the time, living alone and all. 

Eddie doesn’t like grocery stores. They’re domestic, a watering hole for Hawkin’s grape vines, overwhelming with colors and bright TL lights. 

Uncle Wayne usually does the shopping.

“Where did you learn how to cook?” Eddie asks while Steve scans different packages of spaghetti. Eddie twists the shopping basket in his hand and a package of ground beef moves over its plastic surface. Steve absent-mindedly grabs hold of Eddie’s hand to steady the basket — only for a moment. The touch feels electric and the ghost of it prickles his skin.

Steve stands on his toes, reaching for a package at the top shelf and Eddie can see a sliver of skin peeking just above his shorts when he does.

“Hard wheat.” Eddie hears Steve whisper to himself while scanning the back of a package. He nods, seemingly satisfied, and gently places it in the shopping basket. 

It’s strangely adorable to see him fuss over the grain type of spaghetti noodles of all things. Even in the harsh artificial light of the supermarket, Steve looks good, especially when he’s fussing like that; furrowed brows and worrying his bottom lip.

“Sorry, Eddie. What did you say?”

Steve catches him staring and now Eddie is the distracted one.

“O-oh, right. Where’d you learn to cook?”

“Ah, my au pair taught me when I was a kid. We used to cook together. A girl from Italy, somewhere around our age now I think.”

“Sounds adventurous.”

“Being an au pair? I suppose so. It’s a hit or miss. She was nice though. Taught me some authentic tricks.” Steve winks at him and Eddie feels his knees go weak.

Steve pays for the groceries and if Eddie had kept a tally, he’d probably be in the red. 

They cook together and Steve is just as fussy cooking as he is shopping. The noodles have to be perfectly al dente — whatever that means — and the vegetables have to be cut a specific way, which Steve makes sure Eddie gets right. And it’s good; probably the best spaghetti Eddie has ever had, although that’s a low bar. 

The bathroom in the trailer is small.

So small they can’t brush their teeth at the same time. Eddie stands in the doorway while Steve occupies the mirror. Part of it is fogged up from their showers earlier. Steve’s face is reflected only where he wiped away some of the condensation. He runs a hand through his damp hair while holding his toothbrush with the other. 

His hair is missing its signature swoop and Eddie’s isn’t much better — flatter and softer without the hairspray. It’s like they have shed their skin.

He thinks of the snake again.

Eddie pushes Steve’s thigh with his foot when he’s taking too long and Eddie wants to spit. Steve doesn’t move, instead raises his eyebrows at Eddie, challenging him. 

And that’s a mistake, because Eddie pushes himself into the bathroom, between Steve and the sink, and leans forward to spit. Eddie can feel Steve pressed against his ass and yeah, he didn’t really think this through. But Steve, like always, seems perfectly oblivious, even when Eddie can spot the blush on his own cheeks from a mile away.

“I’ll just be…out,” Eddie mumbles as he squeezes himself out of Steve’s bubble. Steve shoots him a curious glance before leaning over to spit as well. 

Eddie turns the lights off and slips under the covers of his bed. He tries to steady his breathing, the insistent thumping of his heart, and the little spark of excitement growing in his lower stomach.  

The sheets smell fresh and his room is the most organized it has been in a long time. From his bed, he can see Steve’s little shelf, stacked with clothes and a few hygiene products, illuminated by light that drips in from outside. 

Eddie feels fondness settle in his heart, just looking at that stupid shelf.

“Hey.” Steve pokes his head through the doorway and he’s carrying a glass of water that he puts on the bedside table on Eddie’s side. Then, he crawls into bed as well, the side that sits against the wall and throws the covers over them both.

They’re lying in bed, facing each other. Steve smells like Eddie’s shampoo and it's making his head spin a little.

Eddie’s room isn’t as dark as Steve’s. The curtains are thin and the trailer park is well lit at night. It’s also nowhere near as quiet as Steve’s house. Outside, people are talking, laughing, yelling — people yelling at people who are yelling — and in the distance, several dogs are barking. 

With Steve facing the window, Eddie can make out his features in the dim light; his eyes are open and he’s looking at Eddie.

“Why are you here?” Steve asks after a moment. When he speaks Eddie can feel his toothpaste breath on his face, hot and ticklish.

“Uh, weird question. I live here.” He grins and he’s sure Steve can hear it in his voice.

Under the covers, Steve gives him a playful slap. “I mean, why with your uncle, you dickhead.” 

He doesn’t pull his hand away; leaves it there on Eddie’s upper arm.

Eddie hasn’t actually told anyone about his past; kept it intentionally vague because he hates being a victim and he hates pity.

Yet, when he is with Steve, there is no Zinc, just the exposed metal hull.

“Long story very short: Dad’s in jail, mom’s an alcoholic. CPS placed me with Uncle Wayne and thanks fuck for that.”

Steve is silent for a moment. “I'm sorry.” Steve’s hand on Eddie’s arm squeezes slightly, reassuringly.

Eddie winces. 

That’s exactly what he hates. But he can’t blame Steve; it’s normal. How else would you respond to someone who got dealt a shitty hand in life?

“Don't be,” Eddie starts, and places his hand on top of Steve’s.  He wants to pry it off, to make Steve stop feeling sorry for him. Instead, he does nothing.  “It’s better this way. Besides, I’m aiming for that tortured artist kinda charm.”

He gives Steve’s hand a reassuring squeeze and smiles.

Steve just frowns at him. “Right.”

Silence hangs between them and the fold between Steve’s eyebrows draws a dark line.

“What’s it like in the Harrington house?” Eddie asks.

“Besides being empty?” Steve shifts, pulling the blanket a little higher.

“I mean, a regular normal day, with your folks and all.”

“Not that different. They have very rich lives and I’m not really a part of it — except when they fight.”

“Fight?”

“Yeah, like argue? Not physically. It’s usually minor stuff, but my parents have very different coping styles. My dad, he closes himself off completely and needs to be left alone, and then magically a few hours later, everything is fine. It drives my mom crazy because she wants to clear the air right away — talk about it, get it over with. And when dad’s like that, you can’t get anywhere with him, so then she comes to me, and frankly, it’s exhausting. Makes me wish they would just…stay away.”

A silence settles between them and Steve’s hand feels rigid under Eddie’s. Eddie feels like he should say he’s sorry too, for Steve, but those are just words and they don’t help. Perhaps just being here, listening, is all Steve really needs.

“And what are you like, Steve?” Eddie’s voice is careful and soft, threading the line. 

“I don't know. Maybe a bit of both? Actually, neither I hope.”

Eddie gives Steve’s hand another squeeze.

“Then neither you shall be.”

When they emerge from Eddie’s room in the morning, Wayne is already home from work. Eddie hasn’t given a lot of thought to what it would look like to have Steve sleep over, but he supposes Wayne is used to Eddie’s antics by now. Having a friend sleep over is hardly the worst of Eddie’s offences.

Call it his impulsive nature.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Wayne puts the paper down on the table. He is still in his work clothes; probably just got home from the plant. He stares Steve up and down. 

“Steve Harrington.” Steve steps forward and shakes Wayne’s hand. It’s a good shake, firm and formal. He sees the tightness in Wayne’s face disappear.

“Harrington, huh? Don’t see your folks much around town.”

Steve’s gaze falls to his socked feet, one foot moving over the other, before looking up again. He puts on that classic Harrington smile, pretends it’s all okay. Eddie can see it, clear as day now that he knows what to look for. 

“They're away often — conferences, business trips. That kinda thing.”

Wayne hums in response and he opens his paper again but doesn’t yet start reading. 

“Classmate of Eddie’s?”

“Used to be. I graduated two years ago.”

Wayne lets out an unamused laugh. “Took him long enough, huh? Now all he needs is a job. You got a job, Harrington?”

“Yes sir.” Steve looks deeply uncomfortable and Eddie gets it because Wayne is not a warm man. He probably can’t allow himself to be because they’re just scraping by. 

Wayne most likely knows Eddie is making some money on the side — knows it isn’t clean either — because Eddie never asks for anything. No gas money, nothing. 

Eddie probably should get an actual job now that he graduated. Clean up his act.

Dealing isn’t durable and it isn’t safe. Just because he hasn’t been beaten up and robbed in a while doesn’t mean it won’t happen again. 

“My nephew could learn a thing or two from you.” Wayne appears to be done grilling Steve and looks over to Eddie. “Eddie, I expect you boys to be quiet. I’m hitting the sack in a few.”

“We’ll be out of your hair, old man.” 

Wayne sighs audibly and returns his attention to the newspaper.

Eddie gets started on boiling water for coffee and Steve leans against the counter, their sides pressed together as he watches Eddie’s hands. He can still sense tension in Steve, who is rubbing his own hands while his jittery eyes follow Eddie around the kitchen.

Eddie hands him his coffee — black — and Steve receives it with grateful hands. 

They move to sit down on the porch and their legs dangle off the wood. In front of them, the sun is peeking above the trees and the first rays of sunlight hit their faces. The light is warm and yellow, and when it hits Steve’s eyes, they burn auburn.

Eddie wonders if Steve ever studies him like Eddie does Steve. By now, it feels like Eddie can dream Steve’s face, every crease when he smiles, every mole on his skin. 

Behind them, Eddie hears the sound of curtains being drawn — a sign that Wayne is getting ready to sleep — and he turns his attention back to the line of trees in the distance.

Eddie sips his coffee and lets the sweet bitterness bite itself into his tongue.

He writes this Steve in his mind as well. Calm and open, eyes burning auburn. The smell of coffee and the warm press of skin on skin, thigh against thigh.

Eddie takes another sip of his coffee. The sky is optimistically blue and Steve doesn’t have to work today. 

They have the whole world stretched out before them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play,” Steve says while he tosses his shirt aside. 

They’re in Steve’s driveway, which has a basketball hoop. The garage door is still open from when Steve went in to retrieve a basketball from it.

He picks it up from the ground in a smooth scoop and bounces it between his hands. 

Eddie allows himself to stare, just a little. The heat of the sun is glaring down on them, even at eleven in the morning and Steve’s chest is already gleaming with a thin layer of sweat. His chest is tanned, although a faint imprint of sleeves is visible on his arms.

“I may have skipped PE a time or two.” Eddie laughs sheepishly.

“Or always.” Steve corrects him as he throws the ball at Eddie. He catches it — barely — and it feels hard beneath his fingers.

He gives it an experimental bounce and it feels clumsy. He has to lunge forward to capture it again. 

“Damn, you’re bad at this.” Steve laughs at him, but it's not malicious, merely amused.

“Everyone has their talents, Harrington. I don’t see you writing a campaign.”

“What? A presidential campaign?” Steve gives him an incredulous look. 

“A D&D campaign!” Eddie throws the ball back to Steve. “Seriously, do you ever listen to your rugrats?”

Steve catches the ball easily and gives it a few bounces. “I frankly don’t care about that stuff. Too complicated. All this jazz about forgetting ‘initiative’ or something…”

Eddie runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, they always forget initiative!”

“Yeah, dude…still don’t know what that means. Now quit stalling, I’m teaching you how to dunk.”

Steve runs at Eddie, bouncing the ball, and when he is right in front of him he does a little swirl, taking the ball with him effortlessly before jumping and slamming it into the hoop. 

“Now you.” Steve throws Eddie the ball and he catches it two-handed, so flat on his palms it actually hurts a little.

Eddie gives it his best, he really does, but he’s not good at sports. He dribbles, or at least does something that should pass for it, but it comes nowhere near Steve’s effortless movements.

Which, honestly, is fine by him.

Steve’s more of a gross motor kinda guy and Eddie has nimble fingers, good for playing guitar or painting figurines — both have their uses and both can be extrapolated. Like, in bed. Steve probably has great stamina too.

“Dude, pass the ball.” 

Eddie feels heat rise to his face and he hopes Steve doesn’t notice, because his thoughts just really went there. Right in front of Steve.

He throws the ball at Steve, and it’s a weak throw. The ball lands in front of Steve’s feet and bounces away.

By now, the sun has climbed its way higher into the sky and Eddie is sweating. His hair sticks to his neck and forehead and he doubts it does the same for him as it does for Steve; who is — as previously thought impossible — looking even better, all slick with sweat and chest heaving.

Eddie leans forward, hands resting on his knees, panting heavily. He realizes he's had enough of this jock nonsense.

When Steve goes for another dunk, Eddie jumps and actually manages to intercept his throw. Steve makes a noise when Eddie captures the ball with two hands and clutches it to his chest.

Eddie makes a run for it.

“You can’t run without bouncing,” Steve yells after him.

But it’s too late because Eddie is stealing the ball away. Maybe if he throws it in the middle of the pool, Steve will give up on his geek conversion therapy.

Eddie is clumsily opening the gate to the backyard when he hears Steve’s footsteps hitting the concrete. 

“Shit,” Eddie mutters under his breath. He shoves the ball under one arm and swings the gate open. Eddie isn’t good at sports, but he’s excellent at sprinting. 

Steve may have endurance, but as long as Eddie has a head start, he can outsmart him—

That’s his last thought before the pool water rushes up to meet him. The basketball wrenches free from his grip as he crashes into the water. Chlorine stings his eyes and water floods his nose. Somewhere around his waist, he feels Steve’s fingers dig into his flesh.

When his feet find the bottom of the pool, he pushes himself up and once he breaks the surface he takes a deep breath, pushing his hair back and rubbing his eyes.

Steve is grinning at him, hair soaked and dripping on his face. They’re both still in their clothes, Eddie realizes, and he kinda wants to drown Steve.

He kind of wants to kiss him too.

Somewhere behind him the basketball floats forgotten. 

Steve moves closer and the water suddenly feels impossibly cold against Eddie’s hot skin. Steve reaches for his head and Eddie feels like he can’t breathe. And then, Steve runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair, pushing it back, slick with water and Eddie feels his heartbeat in every fibre of his being. Steve’s eyes are focused, scanning Eddie’s face, before locking on his eyes and then, Steve smiles.

“You look so weird, dude.”

Eddie takes in a shuddery breath and swats at Steve’s hands. 

“Don’t be mean. I’ll cry.”

Without answering, Steve lets himself sink below the surface. For a moment, Eddie thinks he will swim away, but then he feels arms wrap around his thighs and Steve’s face is buried against his hip as he hoists Eddie into the air, only to slam him back into the water.

Eddie yelps and his mouth is still open when he breaks the surface.

There’s water in his mouth and nose, and when he resurfaces he coughs a good few times, just a tad more dramatic than he has to. Steve has a shit-eating grin on his face and Eddie thinks he may actually prefer drowning Steve now instead of kissing him.

“You’re so dead, Harrington,” he says grinning as he swims over to Steve. 

Eddie doesn’t stand a chance against Steve on-the-swimming-team Harrington, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.

They lay their clothes out to dry on some sun chairs and Steve gives Eddie what is possibly the ugliest polo in his collection.

He does that on purpose.

Eddie stands in front of the mirror in Steve’s room and what he sees is straight-up bizarre. The polo is grey with red and blue stripes, he’s wearing Steve’s shorts, and Eddie’s hair is flat and soft. He looks at Steve through the mirror, who is sitting on his bed, smiling at Eddie’s back.

“I take back what I said in the pool. I think you look weirder now,” Steve says leaning back on his elbows.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, darling.” Eddie turns around, hands on his hips and he probably looks more confident than he feels wearing Steve’s ridiculous get-up.

“Oh, I will.” And then, Steve stands up and walks over to Eddie. He still smells like chlorine, despite the change of clothes, and his hands find the hem of Eddie’s polo.

“You’re not wearing it right though.” Steve’s voice is soft and Eddie feels his heart rate pick up as Steve proceeds to tuck the polo into his pants — feels Steve’s fingers dip below the rim of his shorts, gracing his ass, moving to the font and running past his hip bone—

Eddie’s breath catches and his hands hang uselessly at his side as Steve adjusts the polo. It’s too intimate, too close, and suddenly Steve’s room is too hot despite the AC. 

“A-ah, that’s fine.” Eddie finally sputters taking a step back and raising his hands to create some distance. 

For a moment, Steve’s expression becomes unreadable and Eddie wonders if stepping away is an exaggeration. But Steve is straight and he is dangerously close to finding out Eddie is not. 

It’s for his own good.

After an awkward few seconds, Eddie feels like he needs to break the silence. “I should probably head home…catch Wayne before he leaves for work.”

Steve’s eyes do not leave Eddie.

“My parents expect me for dinner,” Steve says. 

They stand there, in Steve’s room facing each other and suddenly the room feels impossibly large; the distance unbridgable. 

Eddie feels his heart sink. Maybe Steve’s parents do expect him for dinner, but right now it feels like Eddie has somehow done something wrong. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Eddie has to try — reach out — make Steve understand he didn’t mean it like that. 

Whatever ‘that’ may be. 

Steve nods but the small crease between his eyebrows doesn’t escape Eddie.

When he is outside, Eddie grabs his damp clothes from the sun chair. They feel warm from the sun when Eddie digs his finger in hard. He forces himself not to look back when he heads towards his van.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Wayne asks when Eddie arrives home. He is tying his steel-toed boots on the couch and can’t seem to fight a small smile off his face at Eddie’s attire.

Eddie is really not in the mood right now. 

“I fell in a pool.” 

“A pool of fancy clothes?” Wayne chuckles.

Eddie scoffs and heads for his room, closing the door behind him.

After a while he hears the front door fall shut, announcing Wayne’s departure, and he realizes he’s alone. The loneliness contrasts so heavily with the warmth of the day that Eddie feels himself shiver.

He stares at the ceiling, purposely avoiding Steve’s shelf on the wall. The polo Eddie is wearing still smells like him.

The absence of warmth and weight on his side feels foreign, even when Steve’s presence is only a second to a day.

He thinks of Steve’s face, hair dripping wet as he runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair; Steve’s fingers digging beneath the band of his shorts. 

Eddie closes his eyes and moves his hand beneath the waistband of Steve’s borrowed shorts, fingers dragging over his hip bone. 

Steve’s face resting there as fingers dig into Eddie’s thighs, hoisting him from the water—

Something treacherous clenches at his chest as he wraps his hand around himself, strokes his cock until he’s fully hard. He’s edging the line and he knows it, yet he can’t stop himself. Steve is too close, too much. Somewhere along the way, the edges have started to blur and Eddie isn’t sure what is friendship and what is more. He isn’t sure if Steve knows either.

When he opens his eyes, he looks at Steve’s shelf through filtered lashes — desire pooling in his gut. 

He is breathing hard now.

Steve’s smile in the mornings, eyes burning auburn, chest slick with sweat and panting from exertion—

When Eddie comes and his desire wanes, guilt washes over him. The evidence of his thoughts on his fingers; a line crossed that cannot be uncrossed. 

He looks at Steve’s shelf and wonders if Steve thinks of him too.

Chapter Text

Eddie wakes up to the sound of rain hitting metal. Behind the door of his bedroom, he hears Wayne settling in after a night of work. He groans, rubbing his palms over his eyes; digging his fingers into his scalp. Light is pouring through poorly shut curtains and when he rolls over to his alarm clock he sees he wasted the better part of the morning away. 

He slept like shit too.

Eddie sits himself on the edge of the bed, his toes digging into the rough carpet. Next to his feet lie Steve’s borrowed shorts, ruined by the depravity of his thoughts. 

He should probably get them washed. 

Eddie dresses himself and gracelessly stuffs Steve’s shorts and polo in his laundry bag, pulling the strings taut, and slings it over his shoulder as he exits his room.

Inside the living room, the curtains are drawn and Wayne lies on the foldout bed, back turned to Eddie. His breathing is already slowing down. 

Eddie quietly grabs his keys from the counter, looks over to the table where he spots Wayne’s newspaper, and decides to take it along before heading out.

He gets a coffee from a dispenser at the laundromat and it’s so vile it almost grounds him. 

Mechanical humming fills the room like white noise. There are a few other people lingering around, but it’s far from busy. It’s Friday morning after all, and people are generally at work.

In front of him, he sees his clothes and bedding swirl around inside the washing machine. 

With the clarity of a night’s sleep, the happenings of the day before don’t seem so bad anymore. Maybe he overreacted by pulling away. Steve was just fixing his shirt after all. In Steve’s position, he would probably find his reaction jarring. 

Jarring but nothing so impactful as to ruin their friendship. 

What happened after however—he downs the last of his coffee and it feels like punishment on his tongue. 

He opens Wayne’s newspaper, flipping it to the job listings.

“Hey there, sweet cheeks.” Eddie leans one arm on the counter as he bends towards Robin. He sends her a cheeky smile and winks.

Robin looks unimpressed. “Please let me refer you to our HR department.” She turns towards the door in the back. “Steve!”

Steve pokes his head from the backroom, arms filled with a collection of plastic film cases.

“Eddie,” he says, almost surprised. Their eyes meet and suddenly Eddie feels every cell in his body hum with anticipation.

And then Steve smiles, and Eddie can breathe.

Steve behaves the same — of course he does — nothing happened after all.

“I’ve brought your clothes,” Eddie says, putting a small plastic bag down on the counter. Robin casts them a curious glance but keeps her thoughts to herself.

“Oh, thanks.” Steve sets the cases on the counter and takes the bag. He briefly looks inside before putting it behind the counter. 

“We’re still on for tonight right?” Steve asks. Somewhere in his voice Eddie catches a hint of uncertainty. Perhaps Steve isn’t as unaffected as he previously thought. 

“Of course.” It’s Friday — movie night — Eddie almost forgot after yesterday’s excitement.

Steve shifts his weight, leaning slightly against the counter, his finger rhythmically hitting the surface. Next to him, Robin observes silently and Eddie has a feeling she knows everything. She’s too perceptive for her own good.

“I don’t want to impose” — Steve starts finally — “but my parents are home tonight. Do you think Wayne would mind if we did it at yours?”

“Wayne?” Robin cuts in. Eddie realizes he never properly talked about his uncle to Robin, not by name at least, and he really has no explanation for why Steve would know. 

“My uncle— but, no, I don’t think he’s home tonight anyway.”

“Then it’s settled.” Steve smiles, his finger seizing its insistent drumming.

“I have one condition though.” Eddie purses his lips. “I get to pick this time.”

Robin and Steve shoot each other an apprehensive look, but Eddie holds all the power here. 

They will have to deal with it.

“We should go camping,” Steve says as the credits roll on the small TV. 

The light of the TV paints the living room blue, drawing shadows on Steve and Robin’s faces as they sit huddled on a couch that is too small for three and too far away from the TV to be comfortable.

Compared to movie night at Steve’s, they are scraping the bottom now. But it doesn’t matter to Eddie, movie night isn’t really about movies — not to him at least. 

They watched Friday the 13th. Mostly because Eddie promised it wasn’t really scary and likes the way Steve and Robin clutch to each other, watching through their fingers at the more gory parts.

“Did we just watch the same movie? All those people got killed!” Robin waves her hands frantically. “Besides, by slasher morality standards, it’s not looking good for you, Steve.”

Steve narrows his eyes at her. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Shit, Steve, you would so die first.” Eddie leans up into Steve’s face. Steve scowles at him but doesn’t pull back.

“Sorry Eddie, I think you’d go before Steve.” Robin joins in. She reaches for the remote control, stopping the VHS. The room is cast in darkness and Eddie stands up to flick the light back on.

“Thank you!” Steve says exasperatedly. When Eddie gives Robin a pointed look from across the room she just shrugs.

Eddie lets himself fall back on the couch. “And you’d survive?” he asks leaning over Steve’s lap, hands motioning exaggeratedly in Robin’s direction.

“Obviously. I’m a girl and I’m virtuous.” Robin is looking far too pleased with herself. 

“Maybe you should do something about that.” Eddie raises his eyebrows suggestively and Robin leans closer, effectively trapping Steve between the both of them. 

“You’re just jealous, Munson.”

“Back to camping!” Steve shoves both of them off. 

Robin leans back into her seat. “Fine, you wanna go camping. I don’t know what did it for you, but fine.”

“Well, for a brief moment, they had a good time” — Eddie leans over Steve to look at Robin — “before the dying part I mean.” 

“Very helpful, Eddie.” Steve laughs and elbows Eddie back into his seat again.

“I have this sneaking suspicion — and don’t hate me for this Steve — that you have no idea how camping works,” Eddie says.

“I told you, I used to build tents in my garden—”

“Out of blankets! That won’t keep even a mosquito out!”

“—at least I tried to make cover!”

“Oh my god, guys, stop your squabbling!” Robin cuts in, making herself a pretty little target. Both Eddie and Steve are now looking at her.

“And what do you know about it?” Eddie asks.

“I used to be a girl scout, actually—”

Eddie starts laughing because he can just imagine little Robin with her cute little badges. “Well, good to know we won’t be shy for cookies then!”

Robin glowers at him. “We did a lot more than that.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and lets himself fall back onto the couch. “Ugh, fine, I’ll never suggest anything again.” 

“No, no! Now I wanna go! C’mon Stevie, I didn’t mean it like that!” Eddie lifts himself to his knees, putting his open palms on either side of Steve’s sulking face; babying him — making kissy faces. Steve’s facade breaks. He laughs as he playfully shoves Eddie away.

“Oh my god! I want my own tent. Don’t make me sleep next to this!” Robin covers her ears and looks up at the ceiling. Robin is being dramatic because this is just regular dude banter.

“Maybe you should ask Vickie to join us,” Steve suggests. “Even it out.”

“And expose her to you two?”

“We are perfectly fine gentlemen.” Eddie cuts in, throwing an arm around Steve’s neck while grabbing Steve’s chin between thumb and index finger. “Look at us, just two well-mannered lads.” Steve slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, playing along as they both smile sweetly at Robin.

“You two are a menace.” Robin pinches her nose bridge and sighs. “Fine, I’ll ask her.”

Steve leaves to drop Robin off at home and the trailer feels quiet. Eddie looks at the coffee table littered with drinking glasses and an empty popcorn bowl. Only some unpopped kernels remain at the bottom — a testament to something he couldn’t have dreamt of a year ago. 

He just finished washing up when he hears knocking on the door. He wipes his hands on his pants and opens the door.

“Hey,” Steve says coyly. Rain clings to his hair and skin. “Is it okay if I sleep here tonight? I don’t feel like sneaking past my parents.”

“Mi casa es su casa,” Eddie says stepping aside with a bow.

Steve enters the trailer and stops in the middle. He shifts in his place, seeming somewhat awkward. Eddie closes the door behind him, locks up and leans against the door as he plays with the ring on his index finger — around, around. 

Eddie is suddenly reminded of the way people would recoil when he entered their personal space, only now the distance wasn’t as much physical as it was emotional. Steve had done a good job of acting natural when Robin was here.

He wonders if Steve can see it too. The lines drawn in the sand; the boundaries they have crossed and the ones still out there — the ones Eddie has touched in the privacy of his thoughts. He wonders which ones Steve has traced — if he has at all. A more sensible part of him knows that what is going on between them is hard to rationalize. Not even Steve can stick his head in the sand forever. The question is whether Steve will like what he sees when greeted by daylight. Whether Eddie prefers this snapshot in time over reality.

“You wanna hear some guitar?” Eddie hears himself ask, and for once he is grateful his mouth runs faster than his brain. 

Eddie’s bed dips under Steve’s weight as he settles near the wall. It’s the same side Steve slept the night before — Steve’s side. 

Maybe, hopefully.

Eddie lifts his guitar from the wall, holding it by the neck as he moves to sit next to Steve. 

Steve flips through a book he picked up from Eddie’s desk as Eddie tunes his guitar. From the corner of his eye, he can see Steve observe his fingers as he twists the tuners. 

Steve’s eyes do not leave him.

“It will not sound as nice without the paddles and amplifier,” Eddie says running an experimental finger down the snares. 

They sound good, in tune, ready to play.

Steve hums. He opens the book — Dracula — to one of the pages Eddie dog-eared. With only the warm light of a desk lamp, the letters are probably hard to read.

“Yes, there is someone I love, though he has not told me yet that he even loves me.” Steve reads out loud. 

Eddie feels his face grow hot. He sometimes underlines parts in books that resonate with him. Another puzzle piece for Steve, a glimpse into his thoughts. “Have you actually read this? It’s so bulky.” Steve lifts the book as if to demonstrate its weight.

“I use it for inspiration: songwriting, campaigns—”

“The D&D kind,” Steve states matter of fact. And fuck, that somehow does it for Eddie. Cute, is all he can think. 

“I doubt Reagan has much use for Dracula. Although, the old vampire is surprisingly charming.”

“Except for the whole bloodsucking thing—”

“Especially for the whole bloodsucking thing.” Eddie interrupts him. He doubts Steve has any knowledge of the sensual nature of vampires. “How else would you capture your prey?”

“I don’t know. Hunt them or something?”

“Seduction is way less messy— probably way more fun too.”

Steve closes the book and groans, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. “I’ve heard enough about blood for one day.”

Ironically, Steve has never looked more appetizing with his throat exposed like that — if you were a vampire that is. Or like Eddie, hopelessly in love with him. 

“Play me something.” Steve’s voice is soft. All the tension from when he first entered the trailer is gone. “Please.”

Steve’s ‘please’ sears into his brain — short circuits it. How can he refuse when Steve asks all pretty like that?

Eddie plucks at the snares. Steel and nickel leave indentations at the tips of his fingers as he improvises. He plays something mellow and slow. Something Steve won’t hate — something he’ll like.

“Do you ever sing?” Steve asks, eyes still closed.

“Sure do,” Eddie says absent-mindedly.

“I’d like to hear that sometime.” Steve’s voice starts to drag, growing slow and sluggish.

“You should come to band practice some time,” Eddie says. The tune he plays is simple and doesn’t require his full attention. “Then you can hear this baby at its full potential.” 

Steve hums. He looks peaceful, maybe on the edge of sleep. Eddie wonders who knows Steve like this — his face relaxed and unguarded, the seemingly permanent crease between his eyebrows easing.

Eddie fiddles away on his guitar until he hears Steve’s breathing even out. 

After some time he stands up, quietly, and hangs his guitar back on the wall. He looks out the window where the clinging raindrops distort the streetlights — just for a moment before slowly drawing the curtains shut.

When Eddie settles his knee on his bed Steve doesn’t respond. ‘Dracula’ lays loosely in his hands and Eddie peels it away. 

“Steve,” he says softly. 

He doesn’t want to disturb him, but he’s sure Steve will wake up sore if he stays like this — his head bent to the side, exposing his throat at an awkward angle. Eddie shakes him gently, earning himself a grunt that sends a jolt straight down his spine.

“Alright,” Eddie mutters, more to himself than Steve, as he wraps his arms around Steve and pulls him until he is lying down. The action surely must have stirred Steve awake but he lets it happen — allows Eddie to maneuver him into a more comfortable position.

With Steve’s eyes closed, Eddie feels braver — bolder — as lays himself parallel to Steve.

When Steve sleepily wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him closer; slotting their bodies together like two hands in prayer, Eddie dares — for the first time — to trace Steve’s face with his fingers. To run his thumb across his jaw, to sprawl his hands against Steve’s throat and let the metal of his rings absorb the heat of Steve’s skin. To blend their warmth until he isn’t sure where Steve ends and Eddie begins. 

It would be so easy to kiss him now. They are so close Eddie can feel Steve’s breath on his lips — can feel it, almost tangible, how much they are at the edge of something. 

A thin line. 

A small step.

Steve opens his eyes, finding Eddie’s as he reaches for Eddie’s hand on his neck. He absent-mindedly traces the rings with his fingers. “We still need to brush our teeth,” Steve says.

This must be what love feels like. To look at someone and be so utterly enamoured with them that it doesn’t matter what they say, as long as you continue to hear the sound of their voice. To feel the heat of their skin and have it burn you from the inside out.

“We do.”

Steve closes his eyes again, fingers tracing fingers in a gesture that feels so intimate Eddie feels like he can never look at his rings the same again.

“Skipping once won’t hurt right,” Steve says as he buries his face in Eddie’s pillow and breathes in deep.

“I suppose not.”

Some part of Eddie knows it would not be wise to fall asleep like this, but he can’t help himself. The light from the desk lamp colors his world maroon through closed eyelids and the friction of his clothes feels foreign in bed. By all accounts, it should be uncomfortable but Eddie never slept better.

Eddie and Steve sit on the porch, a little too close, coffee in hand. The sky is gray and the grass wet with the night’s rain when Wayne arrives home. As he walks up to the door he looks Steve over before shooting Eddie a curious look. 

“Morning boys.”

“Morning, Mr. Munson,” Steve says politely. Wayne chuckles and softly shakes his head as he enters the trailer.

Steve and Eddie look after him until the door is closed.

“Do you think he minds that I stay over?” Steve asks.

“Nah, I think he likes you.” Eddie takes a moment, staring into the distance with pursed lips. “Actually, he thinks you’re a good influence. I looked at jobs the other day. Bet he will be thrilled.”

“You looked at jobs?”

“I mean— yeah, can’t live here forever, now can I? Leeching off Wayne.” Eddie shrugs.

“I suppose so.” Steve stares into his mug, his fingers drumming on the porcelain. “My parents were talking about buying me an apartment. Early inheritance kinda deal.” Steve’s voice grows shy. 

By now Eddie knows Steve doesn’t like talking about money. Whenever someone says Steve is rich, he always corrects them; tells them he isn’t, his parents are. 

After all, Steve earns his own money.

“Fuck, your own apartment? Way to make a guy jealous.” Eddie elbows Steve good-naturedly and Steve bouches with the action. 

“I don’t know. It sounds pretty lonely.” Steve's grip on the mug tightens and his stare intensifies. “I was kinda looking into getting a roommate.”

“A roommate, huh?” Eddie leans into Steve. “Anyone in mind? Please don’t say Henderson.” 

Steve chuckles. “Actually, I do have someone in mind. I heard he’s currently without a job though. I’m not sure if he could make rent.”

Steve grins at Eddie and he can hardly fight one off his face in return.

“Well, maybe you should tell that guy” — Eddie starts slowly, his volume increasing with each word — “to get a fucking job and make rent.” 

Across the street a lady looks over, startled by the noise.

Steve starts laughing, actually laughing, and Eddie joins him because the idea of being roommates with Steve — Steve asking him to — is incredible and ridiculous and something Eddie didn’t even know he wanted.

“So that’s a yes?” Steve asks breathily once they finally calmed down.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Chapter Text

“You got all that, kid?” The older man asks tapping his notepad with his pen. 

The late summer sun is glaring down on Eddie and he has to squint to see the man — a safety officer at the building site. The hard hat Eddie wears is annoying, making his forehead sweat and his head itch. 

“Yeah.” Eddie scratches his head. His shirt is already starting to soak with sweat, not unlike the other men at the building site.

“That’s ‘yes, sir’ to you, Edward.”

“Yes, sir.” Eddie kicks at the ground with steel-toed boots, sawdust crushes underneath his soles. He frowns at the use of his real name but keeps his mouth shut.

“Good. Now, follow me. We’ll set you up.”

Eddie hates this. 

He hates having an actual job, but now that he sold the last of his stash he is quickly running out of money. He had tried a few other places but quickly discovered that his looks weren’t as globally appreciated as he would have hoped. Cutting his hair was off the table, especially for something as ridiculous as working in a supermarket. 

Hawkins is sheltered and narrow-minded. He knew that, of course, but he didn’t expect how much this town would actively discourage him from becoming a contributing member of society. 

A part of him hopes Corroded Coffin will make it big someday. They have a few gigs lined up, but they don’t earn him money — not yet — only free beers, a bit of pocket money if they’re lucky. 

Steve’s parents are still looking at apartments. There is no rent, no rush yet, except for Eddie’s dwindling gas meter. Having a steady income allows him to save, to help out Wayne, even though he refuses to take any of Eddie’s money. Eddie makes sure the fridge is stocked, replaces things when something breaks, and it helps. He can see the tension ease in Wayne’s face. 

For now, working in construction is as good as it’s gonna get. 

Or as bad, given the temperature is currently in the 90s. 

The job isn’t hard though, just physical and exhausting. After his first day, Eddie felt every muscle in his body ache, and somehow that ache is never-ending. By the time it should be gone, he has lifted so much weight during the day he effectively created a new batch of pains. 

Steve seems to appreciate it though. He compliments Eddie on his endurance and that combined with the proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow — moving in with Steve — creates enough incentive for Eddie to keep it up. 

The dynamic has shifted after that night when Eddie played guitar for Steve — at least it has on Eddie’s side. He realizes now that Steve wants to be touched, that he seeks closeness. It isn’t romantic, not completely. Not for Steve.  

But it's close.

And Eddie dares now, to touch, to seek out Steve’s skin when they lie in bed. Feel him, breathe him. Anything but taste. 

A new line in the sand.

“You’re getting buff.” Steve comments when Eddie walks in, clad in boxers and a towel around his neck. He is fresh from the shower. Steve is reading some sort of magazine in bed. 

Waiting for him.

“Am I?” Eddie looks himself down. He hasn’t really paid attention to it, but now that Steve points it out, his arms are definitely gaining some definition. Working in construction has its perks it seems, mostly in the physical department.

“Great timing too. You can carry our stuff this weekend.” Steve chuckles. 

“Really sticking that king title, huh?” Eddie throws his towel over the back of his chair and flops down on the bed.

“Get your wet hair off me!” Steve jerks towards the wall, pulling his magazine away from Eddie’s weight. He folds it close and throws it over Eddie’s head on the desk. It lands with a quiet thud.

“What, you can’t stand a bit of water? Did I book a lake spot for nothing?” Eddie lowers himself on the bed, crawling under the thin covers. 

“You’re gonna get the pillow all wet.” Steve pulls a face, lowering himself as well. 

Steve is right, the pillow is already getting damp. Steve never sleeps with wet hair, he usually showers in the morning if he can help it, or otherwise blow-dries his hair — to keep his look consistent, as he puts it himself. Eddie’s hair on the other hand is a surprise each morning, but in the end, it always vaguely looks the same anyway. Wild and big.

“Unlike your drool—”

“I don’t drool!”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs.

“Just kill the lights, dude.” Steve huffs, and Eddie does, turning around to cover the room in darkness with a single click.

Eddie wakes up before Steve, usually at the first sign of dawn. 

Construction work starts early, much earlier than Family Video opens, yet Steve gets up with Eddie every morning, shares a coffee with him on the porch before Eddie heads out. 

Night still clings to Steve’s hair as the first hints of light peek through a gap in the curtain. It kisses Steve’s face and colors his hair a rich bronze. Eddie likes these mornings. The ones where he can linger in bed before Steve wakes up — observe him at his most peaceful.

This morning Eddie doesn’t have to leave early. Steve, Robin, and even Vickie all asked to have the weekend off, to go camping like Steve wanted to. It feels like the perfect culmination of summer; a form of closure before autumn rears its head. 

Next to him, Steve stirs, opening his eyes to the first hints of shy sunlight. A lock of hair covers his eyes and Eddie leans in to brush it away.

Steve blinks himself awake and raises himself to look over Eddie’s side towards the alarm clock. He stares for a moment before allowing himself to fall back.

“Normally we’d be out by now,” Steve mutters, closing his eyes again.

They laze around a little longer until the warm yellow of sunrise is replaced by a brighter, more insistent light. Steve's bag for the weekend is already packed and Eddie doesn’t need long to gather his stuff as well. The only thing that takes some time is finding Wayne’s old fishing tent. They find it tucked away, buried underneath a whole array of other items. 

Once they’ve loaded up the van, Eddie slides the door closed and gives it a gentle tap.

“Locked and loaded. Let’s get Buckley.”

Picking up Robin took surprisingly little time. It’s only ten more minutes before they arrive at Vickie’s house. Once the van is parked, Robin jumps out and skips over to the front door.

“I’m so proud of her,” Eddie says. He watches as Robin waits after ringing the bell. She glances back once before Vickie opens the door. Vickie smiles, motioning for Robin to come inside.

“Yeah, well, let’s just see whether Rob can actually reel her in now that she’s got her hooked,” Steve remarks.

Eddie taps the steering wheel while he watches the door. “Ever the cynic are we?”

Steve is leaning his arm out of the opened window, watching Robin as she walks back out carrying a crate.

“You need some help there, Rob?” Steve yells from the open window.

“I got it!” Robin walks with fast small paces, the crate visibly heavy. When she sets it down in the van with a thud, the vehicle moves with it. Not much later, Vickie arrives behind her, carrying a duffle bag. 

“Thank Robin.” Vickie smiles sweetly as Robin moves aside to let Vickie put her stuff behind the passenger seats. 

“You got a lot of stuff there, Vickie,” Steve says turning around in his seat and Eddie follows his movement. “I’m Steve, by the way, Harrington.” He gives her a small wave.

“I think we’ve met at Robin’s party. Nice to officially meet you.” Vickie playfully bows her head. Then her eyes move to Eddie. “You too right?” 

“Eddie Munson. A pleasure to officially meet you.” He sends Vickie a little royal twist of the hand and Vickie giggles, playing along by giving Eddie a curt nod. 

Robin rolls her eyes at his antics.

“So, these are my idiot friends I’ve been telling you about.” Robin gestures for Vickie to enter the van, then follows behind her, pulling the door closed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not easily influenced,” Vickie says looking at Steve, then Eddie, while fastening her seatbelt. 

Vickie seems like a sweet girl, although Eddie has a feeling there is an edge to her. Maybe something they’ll find out over the weekend.

“Oh don’t worry, you will find out I’m right soon enough.” Robin smiles at them. She looks slightly nervous but mostly giddy. 

Eddie shoots Steve a knowing look and Steve looks back, so cocky that Eddie is sure Steve is feeling like fucking Cupid himself right now. Eddie rolls his eyes and turns the key. When the van roars to life, so does the radio — the radio that Steve tuned to a pop channel as soon as they left the trailer park, much to Eddie’s dismay. 

Once they leave Hawkins, the forest slowly makes way for fields of yellow. With the better part of summer past, tractors are working the fields, pulling up clouds of dust as they harvest wheat. 

It smells like a memory in the making.

“Robin told me you’ve never been camping, Steve,” Vickie says after a while. “Said you watched some horror movie and suddenly you wanted to. Seems like an odd choice.“

“Harrington here is full of surprises, aren’t ya?” Eddie keeps his eyes firmly on the road while he slaps Steve’s thigh, giving it a brief squeeze before moving his hands back to the steering wheel. Steve lets out a noise in protest.

“Kinda seemed like a pivotal experience when you’re young,” Steve says, rubbing at his leg before turning to look at the girls when they talk.

Eddie looks in his rearview mirror. Robin and Vickie are sitting close, but where Vickie is eyeing Steve curiously, Robin’s gaze is focused on Vickie. And Eddie gets it, probably, because Steve is a chick magnet and Vickie is showing interest. 

Not the romantic kind necessarily, but interest nonetheless. 

“My family goes camping every year — that’s what the crate is for. I figured you guys would probably forget some essentials. No offense.” Vickie fidgets when she talks. A nervous habit, not unlike Robin. 

“Eh, you’re probably right about that,” Eddie offers. “We brought a tent though, and the van has a mattress for you ladies.”

“Such gentlemen,” Robin says sarcastically. She looks at him through the mirror, eyebrows raising in challenge.

“I brought us some sleeping bags,” Vickie looks towards Robin. “I kinda figured you boys took those along for yourselves.” 

“Did we?” From his periphery, Eddie sees Steve look at him. 

“Eh, no. I brought blankets though. And Wayne’s sleeping mat.”

Steve pinch his nosebridge.

“Don’t worry. A bad camping night is pretty much a rite of passage. Once when we went camping our tent leaked during the worst rain I’ve ever seen. My parents, my sister, and I were piled in the middle of it just to keep dry.”

“There wasn’t any rain forecast right?” Steve asks stressed.

Eddie grins to himself. “Just sunshine with a side of mass murder.”

“Oh my god, will you guys ever let me live this down?”

Eddie looks back in the mirror again, eyes meeting Robin’s.

“Never,” they say, almost simultaneously.

“Put it in!” Eddie moans. “For God’s sake, just put it in Steve!”

“It won’t fit.” Steve groans back. “And please, stop moving so much. It’s hard enough as is.”

Eddie is panting. They’ve been at it for a good twenty minutes now, but without any instruction, they really don’t know how to set up a tent. 

Vickie and Robin are watching them from the door of the van. 

“Should I help them?” Vickie moves to stand up but Robin places a hand on her arm, shaking her head. 

“Let them sweat a little longer.” 

“We can hear you,” Eddie replies in exasperated sing-song. 

He sits on his heels, holding one of the bendy tent poles in its socket. On the other side, Steve lets out an annoyed huff when one of the poles shoots out of the other again. 

Steve throws the poles down, crosses his arms over his chest, and looks at Robin. “C’mon Rob, don’t be cruel. Let Vickie help, please.” Steve pouts.

Vickie moves to stand, not awaiting Robin’s approval this time. 

Eddie lets himself fall back on his ass. Twigs are digging into his flesh, but he doesn’t care. He watches as Vickie explains to Steve how to set up the tent. She’s a hand-talker, gesturing to Steve how to assemble the poles, where to put the pegs, how to pull the bottom of the tent taut. Robin watches too, doesn’t tear her eyes away as she furrows her brows. 

Eddie lifts himself from the ground, patting his backside to remove most of the dirt clinging to his pants. He moves over to Robin and sits down next to her. The van dips slightly under his weight, but she doesn’t look up. 

“If you keep it up, your face will get stuck like that.” Eddie jokes. Robin’s face immediately smooths out, only now aware of her own expression.

“Sorry,” she says quietly. “You booked a nice place.”

Eddie smiles. “I figured Steve would want some cliche magical memory of camping. Took me quite some folders to dig through, believe it or not.” 

Eddie pauses for a moment, taking a breath before opening his mouth again. “You know he’s just being friendly right?”

In front of them, Vickie and Steve are making quite some progress on the tent. Robin tears her eyes away, looking at Eddie now. 

“I know. I shouldn’t be jealous, Steve’s not like that,” she starts. “Since the dawn of time, every girl ever has been in love with him. I can’t help but wonder if taking Vickie along might be a mistake.” She smiles wryly.

“If you could see it the way I see it, you wouldn’t be worried in the slightest.”

Robin’s smile turns more genuine at Eddie’s words. “Pff, right.” She playfully hits him on the shoulder. 

It only takes Steve and Vickie ten more minutes before the tent is set up. She’s a real natural, Vickie. Or maybe it’s just experience. Eddie is impressed either way. 

Once all the necessities are taken care of, Vickie pulls out a picnic blanket from the van — one of the many things she brought along — and they lay it down near the lake, just before where dirt makes way for pebbles. There’s a deck too, with room to dock a boat if you choose to rent one. 

Steve and Eddie change into their swimming trunks, racing each other on the deck before letting the water engulf them. It’s nice. The water is heated by past sun and the trees cast shadows that dance across its surface. Eddie floats, his ears submerged and filled with the sound of his own heartbeat while Steve pulls some laps, speeding past him with arms beating down on the water. 

Back on the shore, Robin and Vickie are reading and chatting, Robin’s head in Vickie’s lap. 

Eddie stares up at the sky as he floats; looks at the way the colors of the leaves shift overhead depending on where the sun hits them. The gentle warmth of the sun is hitting his skin in leopard spots, contrasted by the cool water on his back.

He hears the sound of water breaking before he’s pulled down; his peace broken by hungry hands and the sound of laughter. When Eddie resurfaces, Steve is laughing and out of breath. Eddie sputters, running his hands over his face and wiping at his eyes. Before he can open them, he feels Steve’s hands on his face, pulling his hair back like he had done in the pool, and when Eddie opens his eyes, Steve is grinning at him, his face so full of affection that Eddie can’t even muster faking annoyance. 

“Asshole,” he says, playfully stomping Steve on his shoulder. But Steve just holds him. Watches him with his hands on either side of Eddie’s face, eyes moving over his features. Eddie feels his heart rate pick up, anticipation swirling in his gut. 

“Thank you,” Steve says finally, giving Eddie’s cheek an affectionate slap. 

Eddie blinks at him. “What for?”

“Just— this.” Steve’s hands move from his face, down to Eddie’s neck, then shoulders, before releasing him altogether, gesturing at their surroundings.

“Anytime, Stevie,” is all Eddie manages to say.

They eat by fire — one that Vickie makes because that was yet another factor that neither Steve nor Eddie anticipated. Going camping when no one knew how to was probably a bad idea. If it wasn’t for Robin’s convenient crush, they would probably have slept hungry and cold under a collapsed tent.

Wayne’s fishing tent is small, technically only fitting one person and some belongings.

Eddie moves himself closer to Steve, seeking his heat. The blankets are thin and the nights deceptively cold when sleeping outside.

Out here in the woods, the sounds are different. Crickets are joined by the rustling of leaves and the breaking of twigs. Somewhere nearby an owl hoots and every now and then he can hear something splash in the lake. 

It’s a loud kind of silence. Undeniably present if one chooses to listen, easy to tune out when not. Despite the pressing darkness, he can hear Steve blink when his eyelashes move over their makeshift pillow — a pile of clothes because of course, they forgot that too. It’s usually a sign Steve is thinking, maybe processing the day.

Eddie noticed it after a while — that Steve can be kept from sleep when his thoughts get too loud; that he blinks in tandem with his mind.

The tent is nearly pitch-black and Eddie can only feel; feel the hairs on Steve’s legs against his own, feel Steve’s fingers creep up Eddie’s neck, lay them where hair transitions into skin, moving strands between fingers.

Eddie’s hand finds Steve’s and he runs his fingers along it, feeling the bones of it.

They’re nice hands, not particularly dainty or bony — maybe more on the square side — strong. Not made for the more delicate arts like painting, but for sport. 

Still, Steve’s fingers feel gentle in his hair.

They feel gentle anywhere.

Eddie gets a sudden urge to kiss them, feel the places where fingers meet the palm of his hand; where the skin is calloused from basketball. He hardly notices when he has his lips pressed against the tips of Steve’s fingers — running his mouth along them until he reaches the last joint — until he hears Steve’s breath hitch. 

It’s a beautiful sound, something akin to music, and Eddie does it again, moves his lips until he is once again at Steve’s fingertips. This time Eddie really hears it; the way Steve holds his breath, only to let it escape with a shudder.

It’s encouraging. Intoxicating. Eddie moves Steve’s hand until he has his lips pressed against his wrist. He can feel Steve’s pulse underneath his lips. The way it beats at an erratic pace. Eddie isn’t thinking when he places a kiss there. Opens his mouth to taste Steve’s skin. 

And that’s all it takes to push Steve over the edge. 

Eddie feels Steve’s hand pull from his grip and then Steve is on him, pinning Eddie’s hands next to his head. Eddie doubts for a second if maybe he went too far this time and this is Steve’s way of stopping him. But then he feels the heat of lips on his mouth, their press insistent and dry. It’s so dark, Eddie isn’t sure whether he has his eyes open or closed and he is almost convinced he must be dreaming were it not for teeth pulling at his bottom lip. 

Urging for access.

Eddie lets him, parts his lips for Steve. Let’s Steve consume him. 

It feels electric, the air charged. Everywhere Steve touches leaves a mark. 

Eddie doesn’t want it to stop. He kisses Steve back like he means it; like he has meant it for a long time now — and he wants Steve to feel it.

Maybe longing makes a man a fool — and love must make a man the biggest fool of all.

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for Steve right now. 

Eddie savors it — every nip, every bite. He gives it back to Steve in earnest and is rewarded with the sweetest sounds.

When Steve breaks the kiss and moves to Eddie’s neck, he wants to speak — wants to tell Steve everything and nothing at the same time — but all that comes out is a strangled gasp when Steve laps at the hollow of his collarbone, bites softly where Eddie is most vulnerable. 

Steve releases his grip on Eddie’s wrists, allows his hands to travel down Eddie’s arm, before moving his hands to Eddie’s jaw. Fingers dragging over skin, burying themselves into his hair. It’s so sweet — so gentle — that it feels almost out of place with the urgency Eddie feels right now.

When Eddie lifts a leg between Steve’s, he can feel a hardness there. It shoots a jolt of excitement right down to his cock. 

Steve is just as affected as he is. 

Eddie moves his now free hands down Steve’s torso, feeling the peaks and valleys of Steve’s ribs underneath his fingers. Steve moves his head back up to capture Eddie’s lips once more. Lets his body sink down until they’re flush and Eddie pants against Steve’s lips when he rolls his hips. 

Chest to chest, Eddie can feel the insistent beating of Steve’s heart, matched by his own like they are beating as one.

Steve’s mouth is experienced. He kisses Eddie slow and deep, and he moves his body like all of it is part of the same dance; to a tune Eddie can’t quite hear. 

Eddie feels like he can’t take it. The slowness — the delicacy of it all.

When he flips them over, traps Steve underneath him, the latter lets out a surprised gasp. He straddles Steve, runs a hand down Steve’s chest, and plays with the rim of his boxers, before leaning forward to kiss Steve again. 

When Eddie dips his fingers underneath the waistband, Steve makes a stifled sound against his lips. Eddie’s fingers follow the trail of hair until he reaches his destination. Steve’s cock is hard, straining against the fabric of his boxers and Eddie wraps his hand around it, feeling its unfamiliar girt, the scorching heat in his hand. 

When he moves it experimentally Steve gasps against his lips. His fingers dig into Eddie’s shoulder as he gives it a few slow strokes and Eddie wishes he could see Steve now. Watch him fall apart beneath his fingers. Instead, he hears Steve’s hitched breathing, the feel of breath moving against his neck, Steve’s fingers digging into his skin with enough force to bruise. 

Eddie moves his hand with increased pace, running a thumb of the head to spread the precome that collected there and Steve’s breath is cutting shorter, strangled cries at shorter intervals. Eddie wonders if Steve’s always this quiet, or only because they’re so close to the girls. He wonders how loud Steve can get when they’re truly alone.

“Eddie.” Steve’s hands grasp at Eddie’s back in warning. Eddie doesn’t stop, ups the pace instead and Steve is writhing underneath him, grabbing for the back of his neck as he pulls Eddie back in for an open-mouthed kiss — sloppy and wet, with little technique to it. When Steve comes, Eddie swallows the sounds, works Steve through it until he’s gone slack underneath him.

Eddie rolls off Steve and lies on his back next to him. His own arousal alive and kicking, his breathing fast. He wipes the come on his hand on his own boxers while he catches his breath.  

Steve is breathing shallow and fast. Eddie turns on his side, reaching out for Steve, but when he does Steve flinches. With a sudden jolt, Steve sits up, gathers himself and gracelessly moves over Eddie towards the opening of the tent.  

It is only when he hears the zipper cut down that Eddie realizes what he heard was Steve’s panicked breathing.

The flap of the tent dangles softly as Eddie sees Steve’s black figure retreat — a cut-out against cold moonlight.

Eddie sits there for a moment, too stunned to move.

Maybe he has finally broken Steve — has finally managed to get so close that Steve responds.

No, recoils. 

He hates it; regrets it instantly — feels nauseous with it.

This was a game he longer longer wanted to win. 

Chapter Text

Eddie needs a moment.

Just a few seconds to gather himself—to let it really settle in—before he can will his body to move. 

And that’s when it all comes crashing down.

Eddie groans miserably.

He really fucked it up, didn’t he? Everything he fears has come true. He digs his fingers in his hair, nails clawing at flesh, before dragging his hands over his face. 

He takes a deep breath and crawls towards the tent opening. 

Clumsy and hurried. 

He nearly trips when he steps out, barefoot and clad in nothing but his boxers. Twigs and rocks dig into his feet, and it hurts, but not as bad as everything else.

It’s dark outside. 

The moon only casts enough light to vaguely discern where the trees are and its reflection catches in the lake.

“Steve!” he calls into the darkness. “Steve! Please come back!”

There is no answer. No sound except that stupid owl that somehow won’t shut up.

Behind him, he hears the metallic sound of van doors opening. A few seconds later, his back is bathed in light.

“Eddie?” 

When Eddie turns around he stares right into a flashlight and it blinds him for a second before he quickly raises his hand to cover its source.

“Eddie, what happened?” Robin points the flashlight to the ground but Eddie’s vision still swims with the blue imprint of light.

“Steve ran off,” Eddie’s breath comes in short and he feels the bitter crawl of panic in his stomach. 

Eddie can’t see Robin’s face. His vision is still swimming with colors as his eyes try to adjust themselves to darkness once again. Robin is quiet for a moment.

“He won’t be far. One moment, I’m grabbing some shoes.” 

Robin acts levelheaded. More so that Eddie expects her to. A moment later, Robin and Vickie are next to him, dressed, unlike Eddie himself.

“Grab your flashlight. We’ll split up and meet back here in a few.” Robin effortlessly takes the lead and Eddie wonders for a moment if this happened before—that maybe he doesn’t know Steve as well as he thought he did. 

Not like Robin knows him.

Now that Eddie’s eyes are finally readjusted to the darkness he can see Robin grab for Vickie’s hand as she drags her away but Eddie doesn’t have the capacity to linger on that right now. He sees the light of her flashlight grow smaller until it disappears behind some trees. 

Eddie takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady his heart before ducking back into the tent. He rummages between blankets, clothes, and bags to find their flashlight hidden away. He quickly dresses himself and grabs his shoes before heading out.

The camping spot is remote, but it isn’t in the middle of nowhere. Steve is unlikely to get lost, probably, and besides that, Steve has survived worse. He’ll be okay. 

He’ll be okay.

Eddie heads the opposite way from Robin and Vickie; the way they came with the van, towards civilization. 

He feels unease wash over him as he walks the unpaved road between the black silhouettes of trees. At his side, he hears twigs break and animals scurry away once they become aware of his presence. 

And isn’t that just his life? 

Everything runs away from him.

Nature is cruel in its taunting. 

Eddie wraps his arms around himself. He calls Steve’s name at intervals and stops to listen every now and then.

Steve doesn’t answer. 

And Eddie hates it, the thought of Steve out there, alone, surrounded by whatever crawls these forests at night. Thinks of Steve’s reaction to the snake, how he had seemed disturbed by the very idea. He hopes Steve is back at camp by now.

After a few minutes, he hears his name being called in the distance. It sounds like Vickie, and Eddie heads back to camp.

“Any trace of Steve?” he asks Vickie once he is back at the van. Vickie sits on the mattress inside, a tiny eclectic lantern in front of her. 

“Robin found him. They’re on the deck. Talking, ” she says, “I think it’s best if we wait here.”

Eddie moves into the van.

He kicks his shoes off before moving in, sits down opposite of her. The lantern sits trapped between them and casts deep shadows around them. 

Eddie crosses his legs. His fingers dig rhythmically into the exposed flesh of his calves as he stares at the light. 

This must be awkward for Vickie. She doesn’t even know them that well, and now it’s a fucking soap opera. What’s worse, there’s no adequate explanation for what happened. 

Vickie doesn’t ask. She sits with him in silence, allowing him to calm down for a moment.

“You changed a lot, you know,” she says after a while. It startles Eddie.

“What do you mean?” 

Eddie finally releases the grip on his calves and looks at her. Even in the low light, Vickie’s face looks friendly, sincere, and Eddie suddenly understands what Robin likes so much about her. She has a disarming charm, a rare vibrancy.

“I mean from our school days. It seems like Steve has mellowed you out. No offense, I know the whole menacing aura is your thing.”

Eddie feels like he can only stare at Vickie as she stares back, a little apologetically.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe Steve really did mellow him out. Maybe he’s gotten a little more patient, a little kinder over the past few months. 

He kinda hates it. 

Likes it at the same time. That Steve crawled under his skin and made a home there, something he’ll carry with him for the rest of his life, regardless of what happens next.

“Eddie?” 

Robin’s hand is on the opening of the van as she pants slightly. “Go talk to Steve.”

When Eddie leaves the van, Robin gently squeezes his shoulder, urging him on. 

Wood creaks under his feet when Eddie enters the deck.

Steve’s shoulders—now covered in Robin’s jacket—tense once he becomes aware of Eddie’s presence. 

Steve doesn’t turn around, keeps his eyes focused on the unseen depths of the lake in front of them. 

It feels like a fork in the road, paths diverging before his eyes. A part of him wants to remain in this in-between—a state in which he can pretend it will all be fine before reality pushes it one way or the other. But Eddie’s cowardly days are behind him. He knows he will have to face this if he wants any hope for a future that includes Steve.

“Hey, you.” 

Eddie feels his voice tremble as he approaches.

“Hey,” Steve greets him back, voice soft.

Eddie is prepared for hatred or disgust. What he gets instead is even harder to traverse. Steve sounds vulnerable—his voice like a thin layer of ice, ready to crack. 

Eddie lowers himself next to Steve, keeping a polite distance between them. He dangles his legs over the side of the deck, shoes hitting the water. 

His mind is racing, tasting the words on his tongue before he dares to open his mouth, and when he does, his voice wavers. 

“I was really worried about you there.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. His bare feet kick at the water and he’s still in his boxers. He must be cold and Eddie silently thanks Robin’s foresight to bring her jacket. 

For a moment all is silent, except for Steve’s feet hitting the water. Drops catch the moon like liquid light.

“About what happened—” Eddie starts, but Steve interrupts him.

“It’s okay.”

Eddie plays with the hem of his shirt, runs it between his fingers as he watches Steve’s feet. 

“You don’t seem okay.”

“I’m…” Steve starts, his voice sounds uncertain. “Please don’t take this the wrong way…but I just saw my whole future shatter before my eyes.”

It breaks his heart. 

Not just Steve’s words, even though they burn themselves into his flesh. It’s the pain in Steve’s voice; the strain from a tight throat that paints his words.

Eddie swallows thickly. “I’m not sure if there’s a right way to take such a statement.”

Steve smiles wryly. “There is— maybe.” He pauses for a moment. “You know, I always wanted to do the whole married-with-kids thing. I love kids, I’m good with them. But then there’s you— and I can’t have that with you.”

Eddie feels like he might be on the cusp of crying. It cuts into him, the sheer unfairness of it all—of biology, small-minded towns, and Steve . Steve Harrington, who turned his world upside down with his unguarded intimacy; the boy who broke down every wall Eddie has ever built. 

Who exposed the metal hull.

In all his years of life, Eddie doesn’t think he has ever felt as much as he has with Steve. The highs—so intense he was sure his heart would burst, but then, these lows—they leave him aching with a pain he doesn’t know if he can bear. And there’s a selflessness in him now, something that wasn’t there before. A vulnerability. He doesn’t want to shatter Steve’s dreams. He wants Steve to be happy, even if that means he can’t be a part of that.

Even if it breaks his heart into a thousand pieces. 

Love can’t be taken or claimed. It can only be willingly given, and cherished until time erodes every memory of it. 

And he wants it all. 

Any way Steve will give him. 

But if this is it, then he will cling to what he has, not to what might have been.

“The fact is—” Steve’s voice cuts through his thoughts,  “I’m considering letting it—shatter my dreams, I mean.”

Steve is looking at him now, and Eddie can see moonlight reflected where his eyes are, like two tiny stars. 

“It terrifies me,” Steve whispers. 

Something breaks in his voice.

“Steve,” Eddie says, and he feels like he’s out of breath, maybe bordering on panic himself because he wants Steve to know . “You’re my best friend and I want to be in your life. Any way you’ll have me.”

Steve is looking at him, really looking, and it's like he’s starting straight into his soul. And then Steve reaches for him, pulls their bodies close, Eddie’s name like a spell on his lips and his arms tight like a straitjacket. It feels like forgiveness.

Like acceptance. 

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve, buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, hair tickling his nose as he breathes in deep. Steve’s smells like the lake, and sunscreen, and a little like Eddie himself.

Steve makes a sound, something akin to a sob. He feels him shake in his arms, restrained, like what Steve really wants to do is wail but he can’t allow himself to. And Eddie holds him like he’ll never let go, feels Steve grow soft in his arms as time passes.

After a while, the sobs die down, and Eddie almost starts to think Steve may have fallen asleep, were it not for the tightness of his grip. 

“Eddie,” Steve croaks as he pushes Eddie back, eyes piercing as he reaches to cup his face. “I— I don’t want to lose you.”

Eddie wipes a thumb under Steve’s eye and it glides wetly over Steve’s cheek before disappearing in his hair.  “You won’t— ever. I promise.”

Eddie can feel Steve’s relief tangible at every place where their skin touches. Steve brings their foreheads together and Eddie can hardly make out Steve’s expression save for those two tiny stars. 

“I don’t know what we are, or where this will go, but I hope you’ll have me regardless,” Steve says, almost a whisper 

Eddie closes his eyes, feeling the heat of Steve’s skin under his fingers, of Steve’s palms on his cheeks.

“I’ll have you, always.”

They stay on the deck for a while, sitting in silence, a little closer than they were before. Without the light pollution, the stars are more visible compared to Hawkins and Eddie swears he can see the vague blur of the Milkyway above them. Eddie leans back on his arm, his head thrown back as he stares up.

They are only small compared to the universe, the earth a tiny dot, and Steve and Eddie themselves invisible. Yet at this moment, it feels like they are all there is. 

Their own little universe.

Next to him, Steve quietly kicks at the water. Robin’s jacket wrapped tightly around himself.

“We should probably head back,” Steve says finally. “I bet Rob’s worried.”

Eddie hums in agreement.

When they get back to the campsite, light pours from the van door. Vickie sits inside with her back against the wall. Robin’s head lies on her lap and Vickie absent-mindedly plays with her hair as she sleeps.

Eddie sends Steve to the tent while he walks up to the van. It is only when he peeks his head inside that Vickie notices him. She brings a finger to her lips, motioning towards Robin. Then, her hand changes into a thumbs-up, her eyes questioning and Eddie mirrors her. She smiles, then gestures for Eddie to close the van.

When Eddie settles back into the tent, Steve is already underneath the blanket. Eddie settles beside him. 

His talk with Steve left him confused — maybe more than he was before. Steve likes him, but there is an undeniable boundary to it. It’s like a wave crashed over his carefully drawn map, and now he can no longer see the borders.

Eddie lies next to Steve underneath a blanket that is too thin. All he wants is to crawl up to Steve; to bury his face in the back of Steve’s hair and breathe him in; to forget the world around them and retreat in the memory of easy comfort—the way they were this morning.

Steve doesn’t know what they are. 

But Eddie knows perfectly well what he is and that is hopelessly, disastrously in love with Steve Harrington.

The poster boy for the sexually confused.

Isn’t that just his luck? 

Next to him, Steve turns and moves closer to Eddie. It’s probably because it’s cold.

Eddie blinks fast, realizing for the first time that night that he may actually cry. He can’t remember the last time he did, thought he was all cried out after he’d moved in with Wayne. Yet his eyes are hot and wet and he feels stupid for it because Steve is right beside him. They’re still friends, Steve wants him in his life and nothing has been broken.

Then why does he feel this way?

When he feels Steve’s hand seek his and interweave their fingers, Eddie feels tears spill hot over the boundaries of his eyes. They run down his temples and disappear into his hair. His breathing is strained as he tries to keep quiet. He doesn’t want Steve to hear—doesn’t want him to know. 

Eddie doesn’t know why he’s crying. 

But when Steve squeezes his hand it somehow makes him feel better.

Wayne always said there is nothing a night’s sleep can’t fix. Which is ironic, because the man works night shifts.Or maybe he is just a cynic and this is his idea of a joke.

But Wayne is right. 

Things don’t seem quite so dire the next day. 

A hard reset, or maybe just some unconscious processing. Whatever it is, it works and Eddie feels like he can breathe again.

At the cusp of the morning, hooting is replaced by bird song. Eddie keeps his eyes closed, lingering a little longer at the border of sleep while he hears the girls move outside the tent, talking in quiet voices. The tent is warm, trapping the heat of the morning sun and its nearing discomfort. It fills him with a sense of belonging.

Eddie feels fingers move over his hands, tracing his skin with a feather-light touch. When he opens his eyes he sees Steve bathed in light filtered red by tent fabric. He is lying on his stomach, one arm under his chin, and eyes focused on the skin of Eddie’s hand. 

He doesn’t notice Eddie is awake and it feels like he is seeing something he is not supposed to. Like he’s a spectator, watching from the side. 

How often has it happened before, secret touches and hidden glances? Maybe Eddie has been blind before.

Steve doesn’t know what they are. 

Eddie lies still, observes as Steve observes him; allows himself to settle in the feeling.

Maybe Steve loves him too.

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me,” Robin says as they watch Steve and Vickie bounce rocks on the lake.

They are sitting on Vickie’s picnic blanket a little distance from the lake, just far enough so Vickie and Steve can’t overhear them without really trying to. Once Robin’s worry from the night before faded, her demeanor shifted to something more sulky, something hurt. 

Eddie pulls his knee tighter to his chest. “There wasn’t anything to tell.” 

Eddie plays with a small twig on the ground near him. He draws circles into the dry dirt. 

“Nothing to tell? You’ve been sharing a bed from what? Like a month? Frankly, I’m hurt. By the both of you. You know you can tell me these things.” Robin stares at him, her hands digging into the picnic blanket. Eddie keeps his eyes focussed on his stick and it breaks when he pokes it too hard in a surface that doesn’t give. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Eddie tosses the stick away and turns to face the lake again. Vickie throws a stone that bounces an incredible distance and Steve high-fives her. “It wasn’t romantic or anything. Steve just needed someone, to not be alone.”

“Eddie,” she says, her voice firm. “Eddie, look at me.” 

Reluctantly, Eddie turns his head and is met with Robin’s fiery gaze. 

“In the time that I’ve known Steve, I’ve never seen him like he was these past few months. I didn’t know what it was. I thought—I thought he was getting better. I mean, I knew he liked you being around, as much as he pretends to be annoyed sometimes.” Robin is rambling and Eddie feels guilty. He didn’t mean to keep secrets from her, and to be honest, he kinda figured Steve would have told her. Steve tells her everything. 

But not this.

And it’s strange because Eddie thought that this,  the closeness, the lack of personal boundaries, was just Steve . But it wasn’t, and it makes Eddie wonder because this whole thing started before Steve even really knew him. 

When he was just Eddie the Acquaintance . Some guy that by a twist of fate ended up with them. That Robin somehow liked well enough to keep around. Someone Steve didn’t even really like.

Or maybe it was Eddie who started it with his game; the stupid little game he invented to push people away, which paradoxically pulled Steve in. 

“I’m sorry, Rob,” Eddie says, and he means it.

Next to him, Robin sighs. “Just—tell me stuff next time, okay? Aren’t we partners in crime?” She elbows him lightly and smiles. Eddie lets out a chuckle, finally feeling the tension ease.

“You’re right.” He sits up a little straighter. “That reminds me, I saw some interesting stuff in the van last night.”

Robin instantly turns red and looks away.

“Hey! What did you just say about telling each other stuff?” Eddie leans into her and Robin leans away. “Aren’t we partners?” and then she laughs and Eddie realizes that maybe he can fix things just as well as he can break them.

“You guys ready for a dip?” Steve comes jogging towards the blanket, followed by Vickie at a more leisurely pace. 

Eddie leans back on his elbows as he watches Steve. He has regained some of his brightness after last night, although there's a shy edge to it.

Eddie and Robin shoot each other one final look before Eddie speaks up. 

“You bet.”

That afternoon, they pack up again. 

The sky is overcast, but the warmth of summer still lingers. Eddie pauses for a moment with his arms full of tent poles, and looks over at the lake. From this position, the deck is perfectly center, overlooking smooth water that reflects the trees from across. It looks different than the day before. Or maybe it’s just different to him now. 

In his mind, he can see the two of them sitting there, feet dangling over water, looking up at a starry sky. 

It’s bittersweet.

Robin puts a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and it pulls Eddie back. He walks over to the van, putting the poles with the rest of the folded tent. They’re nearly packed.

Steve seems more like himself. He’s joking around with Vickie and Robin as he tries to keep them focused on the task at hand. Every now and then, their eyes will meet, and Steve will smile, a little shy, and it sends flutters down Eddie’s chest.

The ride back is filled with banter and Eddie listens fondly while he focuses on the road. When they drop off Vickie, they thank her for her expertise and tell her to not be a stranger. With Vickie gone, the attention shifts to Robin and Steve tells her to lock Vickie down. 

If two is a company, then four is a party, and Eddie hopes Vickie will join them more permanently.

After they drop off Robin the van gets quiet. Next to him, Steve fidgets with his hands. Eddie hasn’t seen him like this before. Usually, Steve is self-assured and assertive, more of a doer than a thinker, but not in the way Eddie is — impulsive at times, an overthinker at others. 

Steve is confident. Steve knows what he’s doing. 

His restlessness now makes those qualities hard to find.

Eddie pulls up in Steve’s driveway because his father wants him home for the night. 

Although dusk is just settling in, the lights downstairs are already on. 

Eddie kills the engine and they sit quietly for a second. 

“We should ask the girls again sometime,” Eddie says after awhile. When Steve doesn’t reply he continues. “I think it was good for Robin and Vickie. She’s pretty cool, huh? Maybe not camping, but something else—” 

And now Eddie is just rambling, waiting for Steve to say something. But Steve doesn’t speak. Instead, he leans forward, placing a shaky hand on Eddie’s cheek and the words die on his lips, breath catching in his throat, because Steve is giving him a look that leaves him breathless. 

Eddie can’t form a coherent thought when Steve leans in and kisses him. 

Kisses him soft and without rush. 

Eddie places his hand over Steve’s, steadying it as he pushes back, encouraging him. And it’s just that, sweet and slow as lips move over one another and it pulls at Eddie’s heart. An ember of hope that sparks a wildfire of something more. 

Maybe Steve doesn’t know what they are, but at least they are together.

Chapter Text

Eddie is seven when he learns to keep his feelings to himself.

He’s playing with Nico, the kid from the trailer across and they’re fucking around with sticks and rocks at the forest’s edge just outside the trailer park. Eddie remembers it being a hot day, but only because his dad was working on his car with his exposed back burnt red from the sun. 

It was on the porch he thinks — although he can’t be sure — the memories have gotten hazy over the years. He and Nico were sitting there, and Eddie thinks that maybe they were sitting too close, or maybe Nico grabbed for his hand. The next thing he remembers his dad’s furious face as he’s dragged to his feet by the neck of his shirt. It was tight and cut off his breathing for a second. Dad was yelling, but Eddie was too confused to make out the words. 

He doesn’t know what he did wrong. 

He remembers how it hurt when Dad threw him inside the humid trailer. Eddie lost his balance and he fell hard, skin dragging over carpet like sandpaper. He can still see the scars, but only because he knows where to look.

Dad kept yelling and Eddie turned to him, kept his eyes down as much as possible. He winced at the sound. He fucking hates the yelling, the loudness of it, the way it rings in his ears.

“You say away from that fucking queer,“ Dad yelled. It's one of the few things he remembers word for word. 

It seared itself into his brain.

The next time he sees Nico, he won’t look at him. He avoids his gaze like Eddie is poison. And maybe he is because Nico’s pale arm is covered in blue and purple patches. Surely that’s Eddie’s fault, because why else would Dad have been so mad?

At least he doesn’t hit him.

He doesn’t hit him, but from then on Eddie can’t look too long at other boys without it having consequences, and whenever Eddie speaks, his dad dissects his words, letter for letter in search of weakness.

Thoughts are best unspoken.  

Eddie has repeated that mantra so many times it feels like it has become part of his DNA. 

He lost his sincerity that day.

“I didn’t raise no fucking faggot.” 

Eddie remembers those words too. And maybe Dad was right because that man didn’t raise him at all.

Monday comes and goes, but Eddie’s bed remains empty.

The whole day at work his mind wouldn’t stop from drifting off to that moment in the car when Steve kissed him and it nearly cost Eddie his fingers while using the bench saw. His superior, Frank, a tall man with a deceivingly friendly face yelled at him after that — cursed and called him an idiot.  

The shrillness of Frank’s voice hurt more than his words. 

Dad had dulled the power of words long before Eddie entered middle school and then, when the bullies took over, Eddie was desensitized to the point he almost took pride in the words they threw at him.

When they called him a freak, he gave them a freak. When they called him a faggot, well, he could give them that too. It scared the kids. Made them exchange their words for fists, until Eddie took that from them too. He’d tell them: Hit me again, you know I like it. And then he’d bear a bloody smile.

Those kids never touched him again.

Eddie wishes it worked like that with Frank too. Yes, I’m an idiot, just give me the easiest job and hand me my paycheck.

He needs to remind himself why he’s working this stupid fucking job. He needs to think of Steve and that he’ll be there every night right beside him once they live together. It would be good for Steve to leave. Maybe not just away from his parents, but away from Hawkins too. Get out of this backward little town and move to the city where Eddie will earn his money playing the guitar.

That helps. It gets Eddie through the day without further incident, but it doesn’t dull the sting when Steve calls him later that night.

“Dad’s a real jerk. Wants to keep an eye on me all of the sudden.” Steve sounds frustrated. “I mean, it’s ridiculous right? They leave me alone for weeks at a time to attend their stupid conferences and when they’re back, suddenly it’s time to get Steve back on the rails. God forbid I have my own life.”

Eddie can only agree, yes it sucks, fuck them. 

Wish you were here.

He doesn’t say that last part. 

Dad may have dulled the power of words, but for the first time in a long time, Eddie is scared of them. He is scared of what words may do to Steve because Steve is flightly when overwhelmed — he learned that the hard way — and his boundaries are like a maze that he can’t backtrack. 

The first time Steve kisses him is Tuesday night.

Eddie is sweaty from work; from lifting timber and laying bricks in the punishing heat of late summer. His shoulders are burned and painted with small freckles. His coworkers warned him to wear a t-shirt, but Eddie is a stubborn little shit and he wore a tank top instead. It hurts where the strap of his bag digs into his flesh. It will hurt like a bitch once he showers too.

The trailer is hot when he gets home. It always is in summer and Eddie wishes they had AC. He slips the bag from his shoulder and drops it near the door. It isn't until he closes the door behind him that he realizes he's not alone.

Steve is here.

He’s cooking dinner and making conversation with Wayne who is getting ready for work. The domesticity of the scene catches him off guard. 

When did things get like this? 

It feels like Steve has become part of their little patchwork family and Eddie never noticed the switch. Wayne doesn’t seem to mind — seems completely at ease with Steve just showing up while Eddie is away. 

It leaves Eddie speechless. 

It has been two days since their camping trip. Two days since Steve kissed him, and Eddie feels something catch in his throat, because — despite Steve’s insistence — a part of him was scared Steve changed his mind. That time made him realize it was all a mistake. But when Steve turns around and his eyes find Eddie he looks like sunshine after rain. Radiant and shy and it makes Eddie’s worries melt away.

Wayne leaves for work after dinner.

Heat hangs trapped in the trailer and the smell of food lingers. Eddie and Steve are doing the dishes and Eddie is on drying duty — the arrangement he prefers because he hates the feeling of wet food on his fingers. Eddie is in the middle of drying a glass when Steve traps him against the kitchen counter. 

“I’ve missed you,” Steve breathes as he holds him with hands drenched in soapy water. Eddie gawkes a little, hands trapped between their bodies as Steve closes the distance. It surprises him, the directness of Steve's words, the ease with which he says them.

And then Steve kisses him and Eddie’s train of thought slips away from him.

It’s not the the hurried heat of their kiss in the tent, nor the careful tentative one they shared in the car. It feels intentional, the way Steve slots them together. How he moves the towel and glass from Eddie’s hands, placing them on the counter behind him without breaking contact. It’s the way Steve’s hand finds Eddie’s jaw and slips to the back of his head, tilting it back just a little to allow him better access as he runs his tongue across Eddie’s bottom lip. It leaves him breathless, makes his body tingle all over and he can’t get enough of it. It makes him greedy for it.

Only this time he can actually have it. 

When Steve breaks the kiss, he cradles Eddie’s jaw and moves a wet thumb over the bone of it. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since.” And then he laughs, a little sheepishly as he picks at Eddie’s hair. “I got suds all over you.”

Eddie pats at his own hair and he can’t help but smile at Steve, can’t help it when he leans in again, captures Steve’s lips for the second time, and feels Steve melt into it. 

“I should hit the shower,” Eddie says as he pulls away. 

The heat of the water hurts the skin of his burnt shoulders and Eddie winces. He lets it run down over his head and soak his hair as he touches his lips. This is real. Steve kissed him and that makes it three. Surely the burning pain of his shoulders must mean this is real. 

And maybe he worries too much. Worrying about Steve must have cost him some years of his life by now. But that’s all in the past because Steve missed him; thinks of him when he’s away. 

That must mean something.  

When he returns from his shower with hair dripping wet Steve lays sprawled on his bed. He’s flipping through Dracula again, looking at the pages that Eddie carelessly dogeared and scanning them with mild interest. When he notices Eddie he folds the book closed and turns on his back. He looks at Eddie upside down, eyes fixed on his dripping hair.

“I kinda miss the pool. Wish we could have the kids over again,” Steve says wistfully, putting his hands beneath his head.

Eddie lays down beside him, and his hair is making the covers damp. Steve hates it but he doesn’t say it, moves a little closer to Eddie instead until their bodies are touching in several spots. 

“We could,” Eddie offers, “Invite the kids now they still have summer break. Fuck, invite Robin before she’s off to college — it’s nearly September. Just plan it while your parents are off to do their own shit.” 

“I just wish they would leave. Which is kinda fucked up right? It’s their house and I’m just lucky mom won’t allow dad to kick me out.”

They lie in silence for a moment and Eddie stares at the ceiling in all its familiarity. It has a few spots, some old leaks that Wayne fixed. It’s a little funny, in a sad way, how their lives contrast. It’s like Eddie was put on this earth just to show the world how perfect Steve is. Except it’s all surface because Steve would rather lay under a patchy leaky roof and threadbare linen than live the life his parents want him to.

Eddie wonders what they would say if they knew their son is kissing the resident retired drug dealer.

It would probably be glorious. And maybe they should do it. Fuck Steve’s parents and screw the apartment. Get out of Hawkins and live their own life. Go out with a bang.

He doesn’t say that either.

“When will they?” Eddie asks. “Leave I mean.”

“Next trip is like a month away.”

Fuck,” Eddie breathes and then he turns to his side facing Steve.

Steve is frustrated — Eddie can tell by the way he sets his jaw. He wants to kiss it better. And he can do that, right? Maybe. He doesn’t dare to. Up until now, Steve has initiated everything. The one time Eddie took any control Steve freaked out. The thought makes his heart pound nervously and he licks his lips as he tries to come to a decision — to gather his nerves. Maybe he will do it this time.

Maybe, maybe—

Steve turns to his side and Eddie’s heart won’t let up. He thinks it may actually be worse now. Yes, he wants to kiss Steve, but he has always been a coward. A self-saboteur. So instead he does what he always does when he's nervous. 

He talks.

“We have our final rehearsal this Thursday. If you still want to hear me sing—” Eddie trails off.

Suddenly, Steve’s earlier frustration seems forgotten and a smile creeps on his face. It’s an honest to god smile and Eddie thinks he needs to correct himself because this Steve is like a summer sun on a cloudless day and it seems there isn’t a place his light can’t reach.

“I’d like that.” He says before getting up out of bed. “C’mon let’s brush our teeth. I’m getting sleepy.”

Eddie watches Steve stand up. The way muscles move underneath his skin. Steve is pretty fit and it must be the swimming that created shoulders like that. His eyes drift downwards to the small of Steve’s back, and he has a few moles there. Down, down, until his eyes reach Steve’s boxer-clad ass. Eddie stares — allows himself to and it awakens a heat inside him.

“You coming?” Steve turns around, probably stirred by Eddie’s lack of movement and Eddie feels a little caught. He isn’t sure if Steve noticed though. Eddie jumps to his feet and readjusts himself in his boxers when Steve is turned away again.

The crickets are loud and the room is dark. As dark as it gets with Eddie’s shitty curtains and the eternally bright streetlight right outside his window. Eddie lays an arm over Steve’s waist and pulls him into his chest. The bed dips under their combined weight and Eddie can feel the springs dig into his side. Steve is warm and Eddie can sense his heartbeat where their torso’s align. Sleep comes easy to Steve. It comes easier to Eddie too, now that Steve is here. He buries his nose into Steve’s nape and feels his hair tickle his nose. 

Steve smells like hairspray and warmth and home.

Two days later Eddie makes good on his promise.

When they walk up to Gareth’s garage the door is already open. Jeff is tuning his guitar and Freak is picking at his bass guitar, playing a familiar riff. Gareth sits at the back of one of the amplifiers, fiddling with the cords.

When Eddie comes into view, Gareth stands up and smiles. “Sup, loser. Took you long enough.” His eyes move up, over Eddie’s shoulder and his smile falters. “What the fuck are you doing here,” he says motioning to Steve.

The commotion causes Freak and Jeff to stop what they’re doing and suddenly everything is quiet. Eddie looks over his shoulder to Steve. He looks uncomfortable and a little guilty.

“It’s cool. He’s with me.” Eddie stares Gareth in the face, stern and insistent.

“Fucking Harrington?” Freak blurts out. Eddie has to fight a smile and stop himself from blurting out ‘not yet’. Yeah, that wouldn’t make it better.

“Yes, fucking Harrington.” He motions for Steve to enter the garage and Steve does so reluctantly.

“Get him on the groupie couch.” Gareth carelessly gestures to a leather couch that lines the wall before making his way over to Eddie. With one hand on the back of his neck, Gareth guides Eddie away from the garage, just far enough to talk somewhat privately.

“What the fuck is this, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs and looks away from Gareth’s piercing eyes. He stares into the garage where Steve sits on the couch, making tentative conversation with Jeff.

“We’re friends now. Deal with it.”

“Deal with it? What’s next, the entire basketball team? Swapping jock straps while we play kumbaya?”

Eddie snorts and Gareth glares at him.

“Well?”

“Steve’s cool, okay. He was interested in the band. Give him a chance.”

Gareth groans, pinching his nosebridge. He looks back at the garage, observing Steve for a moment before turning back to Eddie.

“Fine— Fine! But he stays on the couch. No touching my shit.” Gareth pokes his finger in Eddie’s chest as if to reiterate his point and turns around, marching back to the garage.

Steve is looking at him from the fucking groupie couch and Eddie laughs to himself, but only because the guys don’t know it's kinda true. It’s a little ironic too, because this is the first time someone other than them has sat on it. Calling it a groupie couch was a little wistful, but fine. May Steve be the one to break it in, Eddie thinks to himself as he makes his way over the the guys. 

Once the music starts it doesn’t take him long to get in the zone. His guitar lies in his hands like it's part of him and the instruments blend into a perfectly aggressive harmony. 

Steve stares. 

Eddie catches him looking at his hands as they move over the snares. Sees the interest in Steve’s face as his eyes move with it. 

More than that, it’s the singing.

The moment he starts singing he sees Steve’s interest peak. Eyes latched on one another Eddie knows he’s got him hooked.

Eddie has to consciously look away at times if he doesn’t want the guys to figure it out in just one day — that Steve and him aren’t just friends. Gareth may actually kill him if he finds out. And that’s of course ignoring the fact that Steve’s a dude. He actually has no idea how his bandmates feel about that as it never really came up before. It never needed to.

After the fifth song, Eddie drops himself on the couch next to Steve. Gareth and Freak are fussing in front of the mini fridge, gathering some sodas. 

“I think it went well. Think we’re ready for the show?” Jeff asks as he sets his guitar down.

“Show?” Steve joins in.

“Fuck, that’s right. I never told you. We’re playing at the Hideout this Saturday. Wanna come?”

“He’ll hate it,” Gareth says as he shoves cold cokes into Steve and Eddie’s chests. Eddie was half convinced Gareth might let Steve dehydrate, but the drink feels like a peace offering, reluctant as it is.

“What’ya think of it?” Gareth follows up, his attention now fully on Steve.

Steve pulls at the lip of his can. “It was good— great, I mean! You guys looked cool.”

Gareth scratches at his head, a little embarrassed but still defiant. Eddie can see the ghost of a smile. Pleased, he thinks, and that’s something. Of all the guys, Gareth has always been the most vocally opposed to outsiders. Jeff and Freak just kinda went along with whatever dumb ideas he and Gareth came up with.

Gareth raises his can and takes a big gulp. “Let’s do this boys!” 

Freak and Jeff join him in his cheer, downing the rest of their drinks in one go and Eddie looks at Steve once he has gulped down the better part of his coke. 

Steve’s eyes are glued to him and Eddie feels a pleasant swirl in his stomach.

It doesn’t matter how often he does it.

Eddie’s heart is pounding and his throat feels too tight. He plays with the pick in his hand and looks back at the guys. Gareth flips his drumsticks, twirls them around between his fingers while Jeff kicks his feet at the floor in front of him. Only Freak stands still as he looks ahead with vacant eyes. 

The soundcheck is done. A few eager people are already crowding towards the stage although most are still lingering near the bar. The band is bathed in blue and pink light that draws lines across the smokey air.

Eddie is always a little nervous before a show, but Steve Harrington, who is standing in the crowd, standing out like a sore thumb, is by far the biggest cause today. Robin and Vickie are there too, looking far less out of place and Eddie thinks it’s sweet of them to attend, even if it’s far from their scene.

The band worked hard on the new setlist and it’s great. Honestly, their best so far. But Eddie is a little mortified — no, scrap that, absolutely terrified by to what degree the whole Steve-situation has crept its way into his songwriting. And of course, he packaged it up nicely in references and fantasy, but it’s there, and now the world will hear it.

Once the sound guy says they’re good to go, Eddie reaches for the microphone. He takes a deep breath, switches off all visual signs of nervousness, and yells into the crowd.

The people at the bar turn their heads and in the front some howl in return. That’s the cue. Drums explode, the bass picks up its rhythm and Jeff’s guitar slices through the crowd. It takes a few songs to really pick up, but it's a far cry from the near-empty rooms they’ve played for before. 

People are enjoying themselves. They trash about wildly in the crowd while Eddie sings of shared cigarettes. Robin and Vickie are one with the crowd, and Vickie is truly wild, absolutely without shame. She pulls at Robin, swings her around, and wraps her arms around her. She bangs her head, whips her hair and, actually gets Steve to do it a few times too before he gives up with his hair a mess. And fuck it, he looks gorgeous all sweaty and messed up. Eddie has to focus — redirect himself to the microphone and clutches it like a lifeline as he sings of snakes and lovers.

After the last song, the crowd cheers like it never has before and Eddie feels high as he saunters off the stage. Behind him people are moving instruments, preparing for the next act, but Eddie hardly notices. Gareth presses a cold beer against his neck and Eddie jumps a little before gratefully taking it in his hand. His bangs cling to his forehead, slick with sweat, and his leather vest sticks to him like a second skin. He unzips it, letting the hot air hit his bare chest.

“Fuck,” Jeff sighs, and they are all looking at one another when Eddie echoes it.

“Fuck.”

And then they’re grinning like they are all in on some hidden joke until they’re jumping and beer is sloshing around them and on them. Eddie is pretty sure it soaked into his boots and is wetting his sock, but he doesn't care. He doesn’t fucking care.

They pulled a fucking crowd.

“Guess hell truly froze over, huh? Get Harrington in the crowd and suddenly we’re fucking stars.” Gareth slaps Eddie on his back and the sound of skin hitting leather is loud, even with the next soundcheck in the back. 

“Or maybe we’re just fucking good,” Freak joins in. 

Eddie takes a big gulp of his beer before shoving the bottle back in Gareth’s hand. “Speaking of, I’m gonna find the little Luckstone.”

Behind him, the guys burst out in laughter and cheers and Eddie smiles to himself as he makes his way through the crowd. It’s not as easy as it used to be. From all sides, people stop him, touch him, tell him they were great, and offer to buy him a beer. At last, Eddie sees Steve’s head peak above the crowd.

Eddie feels like he’s in a tunnel. Like he’s Moses and people are parting for him like the Red Sea. Steve is staring. Eddie can see his eyes move over his body, resting on his chest somewhere near his tattoo, and then his eyes find Eddie’s.

Steve is moving. Walking towards him with an urgency in his step. And then Steve’s arms are around his neck, squeezing him tight, chest to chest, before pulling away again and holding him at arm's length. 

“You,” Steve starts, his eyes scanning Eddie’s face and he licks his lips, pushing his sweaty hair back before finding the words again, “you guys were great.”

“Holy shit! I didn’t know you were a rockstar!” Vickie jumps in after having caught up with Steve. Steve pulls away a little more, moving one hand to Eddie’s back, fingers tracing over the skin where his vest ends. It leaves him with a pleasant tingle.

“It usually isn’t like this.” Eddie looks around the room. Some people are staring. It definitely isn’t what it used to be and it’s fucking crazy. 

The music starts again. Some small-time band and Eddie figures the time for conversation has passed — at least within the crowd. 

“Let’s get another drink and I’ll introduce you guys to the rest of the band,” he yells over the music.

It takes some time to find his bandmates again. They are not where he left them near the stage. Instead, they moved near the back exit, where they stand near the open door as they smoke. It’s a good idea because it’s hot inside and Eddie is still sweaty from his performance. Once he nears the door, Steve, Robin, and Vickie in tow, he can feel the cold air seep in and it clings pleasantly to his skin. He takes another sip from his beer.

“Eddie!” Gareth makes his way over to him, putting an arm around his shoulders as he guides him to the rest of the group. There are a few people there he doesn’t recognize, most notably a tall older man with blonde hair in a style not unlike Steve's, only pushed back more, and he wears a colorful button-down shirt. He’s in the process of lighting a cigarette when Gareth drags him over. 

“Eddie, this is Tom — Tom, Eddie.” Gareth gestures and the man holds out his hand, urging Eddie to shake it. He does so, reluctantly, because shaking hands at a place like the Hideout is fucking weird. The man’s blue eyes look at him curiously and his smile reveals two rows of perfectly white teeth. Eddie isn’t sure what to make of him. He tries to shoot Gareth some subtle looks for help, for some clue what the fuck all of this is, but Gareth has his eyes glued to Tom.

“Nice to meet you Eddie.” — Tom’s speech is a little muffled by the cigarette and he removes it from his mouth —”I was just telling your friends that I’m organizing this festival near Indianapolis. We’re looking for some fresh faces and you guys caught my attention.” He takes a slow drag from his cigarette and taps the ashes in the open doorway. Gareth is practically shaking with excitement and Jeff and Freak are talking in hushed voices a little further away. Eddie doesn’t know what to say, left a little speechless by the information.

“I say we do it,” Gareth jumps in next to Eddie, “we have enough time to prepare—”

“No need to decide now.” Tom interrupts him, then digs through the pocket of his pants and digs out a little metal case. He flips it open effortlessly and with a small push reveals a dark business card. “Call me once you have given it some thought.”

Eddie takes the business card and Gareth leans in close to read it with him. 

‘Thomas Davis, Talent Scout at Hellbound Records’

“You’re a talent scout?” Eddie asks while Gareth peels the card from his hands to show it to Jeff and Freak. 

“I am,” Tom says and blows some smoke from the corner of his mouth, “We organize this festival yearly. Give some newer bands a chance, see how well they do on stage. It’s all good fun. Of course, it doesn’t pay, but it’s the exposure that counts, right? And if you’re lucky, you may even get a record deal out of it.”

“Right,” Eddie echoes. 

Tom stubs his cigarette on the brick wall. “Well, it was nice meeting you. I’m afraid duty calls.” And by duty, Tom probably means the other band that is currently playing. Eddie gives him a curt nod and Tom disappears into the crowd.

“What was that all about?” Steve asks from behind him. Eddie had all but forgotten they were looking for the guys in the first place. 

“Eh, I guess we just got invited to a festival?” Eddie can’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. Maybe it hasn’t really sunk in yet, because this is incredible. It’s objectively fucking amazing and it overwhelms him. 

“Eddie, that’s amazing!” Robin yells over the music and then she throws her arms around him in a tight hug. “You’re all gross and sweaty though.” she pulls a face as she releases him again. Eddie smiles apologetically at her before Vickie makes her way into his field of view. 

“Congrats!” she yells.

Steve says nothing, but he’s smiling all nice and gentle, staring at Eddie in awe for a moment. Just as he opens his mouth, Gareth walks up again, followed by the guys. 

“This is like, the best day ever,” he says and he grins at the business card once more, “let’s discuss this next rehearsal. I’m gonna get some drinks. You want something?”

Eddie shakes his head. He’s had quite enough to drink and he still needs to drive because his van is the only car that fits their instruments. Gareth shrugs and walks off towards the direction of the bar. 

“We’re gonna head back to the stage,” Robin tells him, motioning towards Vickie. Eddie realizes he forgot to introduce them to the band and now Gareth is lost somewhere in the crowd. Robin seems to catch on to Eddie’s hesitation. “No worries, you can introduce us some other time. Go have fun, you crazy kids.” She gives them both a look before she’s dragged away by Vickie.

“Those girls,” Steve laughs shaking his head. “When do you think they’ll figure it out?”

Eddie looks towards the crowd until he loses sight of their heads. “Eh, knowing Robin, probably never. I have put all my faith in Vickie,” Eddie replies. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. There’s still some left when he puts one between his lips and shields it from the wind as he lights it. Steve settles against the wall next to the door and Eddie follows his lead.

“What a night, huh?” his voice is a little hoarse from singing and he feels the smoke burn his throat as he takes a deep breath. Once the end turns dark again, Steve reaches for the cigarette, pulling it from his mouth and putting it between his own lips. He takes a pull, not quite as deep as Eddie did, holds it for a second before blowing out again. 

“What’s it like?” Steve takes another drag before placing the cigarette back between Eddie’s lips, “Being on stage, I mean?”

“A fucking thrill,” Eddie says after a moment. 

“I bet.” Steve stares at the ceiling and he taps his foot, not quite along with the beat of the band. “I always got so nervous before we had a game. I think I puked a few times.” Steve laughs to himself and Eddie smiles. He moves a little closer to Steve, not quite touching, but close. 

Steve leans over again, pulls the cigarette from Eddie’s mouth for another drag. Something about the gesture feels so intimate. Especially the way Steve gently places it back between Eddie’s lips after he’s done and fingers lightly grace over his lips in a way that doesn’t feel accidental. Excitement swirls in his belly and he wishes he could kiss Steve right here but not even the Hideout is that accepting — regardless of how weird its visitors are. 

Once the cigarette is reduced to its filter, Eddie pushes himself from the wall. “Guess it’s about time we load the van,” he tells Steve. 

Eddie drives it up near the exit and when he walks back inside his bandmates have returned. Steve has a new beer in his hand and he’s in conversation with Freak who’s bent over laughing while Steve grins at him. 

With the five of them, it doesn’t take long to have everything packed again and Eddie feels like he might be done for the day. He doesn’t have to tell Steve though. Sometimes it feels like he can read his mind, and maybe that’s good because otherwise, they may have stayed another couple of hours. 

“Vickie was driving them right?” Eddie asks as he fastens his seatbelt. 

Steve nods. “Hard to believe she found a new taxi driver, even after finally getting her license.”

“The way I heard it, she only got it because they felt sorry for her,” Eddie says as he turns on the ignition.

“Don’t be mean, ” Steve says, but when Eddie shoots him a look, he relents, defensively throwing his hands up, “Okay, fine, mercy license. You’re right. Still, good thing she has Vickie.”

Eddie hums in response. His eyes feel heavy and he can’t wait to dive into bed with Steve. Luckily it isn’t a long drive.

Once they arrive at the trailer, Eddie gets his guitar from the back and they head inside. 

He hangs his guitar back in its rightful place on his bedroom wall and runs his fingers along its surface lovingly. He wonders what they did to get so lucky tonight. Maybe it was his guitar, or maybe it was Steve. The unlikelihood of Steve Harrington attending a Corroded Coffin concert at the Hideout may have given the universe a good shake. That, or the fact that Eddie is maybe-kinda- dating him. Surely that must have broken some natural laws as well.

“I’m hitting the showers,” he yells without looking back. Steve is somewhere in the trailer, but he has no idea where he wandered while was in his bedroom. Eddie shoots his guitar one last look before moving to the bathroom and switching the water on to warm up. He strips his leather vest away and it sticks to his skin. His hair looks a mess too — much like the eyeliner that has left dark smudges under his eyes. The mirror is fogging over as he rubs at it.

“Need some help there, Munson?”

“Back to last names?” Eddie quips as he turns to face Steve at the door opening. “Harrington.” He draws Steve’s name, just for the heck of it.

“Only for Rockstars.” Steve smiles and leans closer, running a thumb underneath Eddie’s eye and rubbing gently. It’s probably not helping, but Eddie doesn’t care. He likes the way Steve’s hands feel on his face and the way his thumb slips lower and lower until Steve runs it over his bottom lip and to his jaw.

Eddie feels his heart rabbit in his chest.

Maybe. Maybe.

He will do it. He’s nearly vibrating with nerves, but he’ll do it. He bites his lips where Steve just touched them

Brain to zero and go.

Eddie leans in, capturing Steve’s lips before he can change his mind. For one breathless moment, Eddie thinks Steve will pull away — run away. But then he moves, Steve’s thumb dragging down to his neck and Eddie feels like he can breathe again. He steadies himself, one hand on the sink, another on Steve’s shoulder.

Lips move over lips lazily, and there is no hurry because they’re alone and they have the rest of their lives for kissing. Steve kisses him deep, urging his lips to part and licking inside. It stirs something in Eddie; awakings a pleasant heat in his gut. 

Steam is filling the bathroom, moisture clinging to their hair and the sound of water hitting the shower floor echoes through the small room. If Eddie doesn’t get under soon the water will run cold before he’s finished.

Maybe he’ll need a cold shower. He has little to hide his arousal and Steve is fully dressed and that just doesn’t seem fair.

Maybe. Maybe.

Eddie is done thinking. Overthinking. His brain isn’t getting much blood anyway, so he acts — just does something impulsively stupid — and drags Steve, clothes and all, under the shower with him. 

Steve yelps against his lips, blinking rapidly to get the water out of his eyes. Eddie leaves him no room to retreat. He recaptures Steve’s lips, pushes him back against the tiled wall. Water is soaking his hair and boxers. It’s soaking Steve’s shirt, the shoulders already darkening into a burgundy instead of bright red. Steve’s hair is dripping, droplets running down the locks that cling to their former glory. He looks beautiful, Eddie thinks, with kiss-plumped lips and red-stained cheeks.

Eddie tugs at the shirt. Peels it off Steve’s chest and only loses his lips when they awkwardly pull the sticking fabric over Steve’s head.

“If you’d asked,” Steve pants slightly, “I’d have lost the clothes first.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie purses his lips challengingly and runs his hands down Steve’s torso appreciatively. Moving from his pectorals towards the hair that dips beneath his waistband and runs a finger along the fabric experimentally. 

When Eddie looks up and his eyes meet Steve’s again, he sees how blown they are, brown nearing black, and it makes him stop for a moment. 

Steve sees an opportunity, seizes it like the jock he is, and spins them around. Eddie winces at the coolness of the tiles against his back, but that’s quickly forgotten when Steve shoves his leg between his thighs and pulls them flush. Eddie can’t help it, the sound that escapes him when Steve rolls his hips. He can feel the hardness there, the outline of Steve’s cock.

It’s so different now that he can actually see Steve. The bright TL bulb hardly makes for a romantic mood, but Eddie doesn’t need warm light to feel this good. 

He feels desperate for Steve’s touch.

Steve rolls his hips again, establishing a rhythm while he mouths at Eddie’s neck. And fuck, Steve is good at this and it nearly overwhelms him as he tries to move with Steve, tries to silence the whimpers that escape his lips with every thrust.

Eddie’s hands move lower, finding the belt hoops of Steve’s jean shorts, and guides his movements with one hand while his other searches for the buttons — to get Steve out of his pants.

Unforgiving fabric. Fucking denim.

Eddie pulls at it as Steve recaptures his lips, moves his tongue over Eddie’s, and Eddie can’t help it. He lets out a whimper and Steve swallows it, only to break apart and help Eddie get him out of his shorts.

It lands with a wet slosh on the shower floor and now that Steve is just wet socks and boxers. Eddie can see the evidence of Steve’s arousal. The wet fabric clings to his dick, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

He wants to touch Steve; taste him. To watch him while he works him, and see his face as he falls apart. Steve has him trapped against the wall, leaning back in, and Eddie licks his lips.

Maybe. Maybe.

He gasps when he feels Steve’s fingers slip underneath the elastic waistband of his boxers. Steve’s fingers are a little hesitant, a little jittery, but when they find his cock Eddie lets out a strangled moan all the same.

“Holy shit.” He buries his face into Steve’s neck, mouth gaping uselessly and fingers digging into Steve’s hips as his hand starts to move.

It’s slow. Painfully slow the way Steve moves his hand and it leaves Eddie shuddering with arousal. 

“Steve,” he breathes helplessly, sinking his teeth in the soft flesh of his shoulder as he tries to steady himself. Eddie wills his hand to move, to trace the band of Steve's boxers as well and he feels Steve’s muscles jump once he finally slips a finger underneath the fabric. He pulls it down, releasing Steve’s cock, and Eddie kinda wants to see it but can’t because Steve has him trapped. 

When he wraps his hand around Steve, he is rewarded with a shuddery breath near his ear. Eddie strokes him, matching his tempo to Steve’s and its wave after wave of pleasure and pressure. They’re moving as one. Something akin to what Eddie imagines the ocean to be; drifting with the current. And that’s something they could do too, Eddie thinks, visit the ocean. He’s never seen it. 

He wants every first with Steve.

Pressure is building within him. A heat bubbling and he knows he’s close, he feels Steve might be as well as he ups his rhythm, slides halfway down before moving up again, a thumb over the head which earns him another sound from Steve. And Eddie loves it, all the sounds and gasps Steve produces, the way Eddie pulls them out of him.

Steve’s movements are getting sloppier, and he pulls his head back a little, just to crash their mouth together again. It’s the slide of Steve’s tongue that tips him over, all messy and wet. It ripples through him and he moans into Steve’s mouth and twitches against his chest. 

He’s pretty sure he just came all over Steve’s leg. 

He gives Steve a few slow pumps and then he feels Steve gasp against his lips as well as he works him through it. He swallows every sound, every whimper — eat it up like a starved man until Steve goes slack.

They stand slumped against the shower wall and Steve leans heavily against him, chin resting on each other's shoulder as they catch their breath. The water has long since gone cold, but Eddie didn’t even notice. He doesn’t think Steve did either.

Steve pushes himself away a little so he can look at Eddie. And fuck, will this be the moment it all comes crashing down? That Steve runs off again? It’s only a split second he allows the thoughts to take hold.

Steve’s face comes into view and he smiles. It's a little shy, but a far cry from panic. 

“Guess we kinda missed our shot when it comes to hot showers, huh?” Steve laughs and Eddie wants to slap him because, in a world of lame post-coitus talk, this was definitely up there. 

He also wants to kiss him again, and this time there is no doubt when he pulls Steve close and places a gentle kiss on his lips. 

There is no doubt at all.

“You definitely didn’t miss my leg though. Great accuracy,” Eddie jokes. He bears Steve a toothy smile as he playfully slaps his cheek. Steve goes a little red, but only briefly.

“Let’s get washed up, superstar.” Steve rolls his eyes and pulls his boxers all the way off, throwing them on the wet heap of clothes on the floor. 

Eddie stalls for a moment but then does the same. Guess they’re showering together, huh?

The shower cabin is a lot more cramped when you aren’t trying to crawl into each other’s skin it seems, and it’s an awkward tangle of limbs as they wash their hair and Eddie tries to mohawk Steve’s soapy locks while the latter objects. In the end, they keep it brief because the water is cold and Eddie's teeth are clattering.

It’s late anyway, way past midnight.

Once they lie in bed, Eddie feels exhaustion befall him. This may have been the most eventful day of his life.

He looks at Steve in curtain-filtered streetlight and Steve smiles back, his hand finding Eddie’s as he plays with his fingers. Eddie’s heart feels so full it’s ready to burst — to combust in heart-shaped confetti probably because that’s what Steve does to him. It makes him all sappy and gooey and starry-eyed.

He wants to tell Steve just that, but his mouth runs dry. His brain blanks just as he finds the words and it’s like he just can’t — not with words. He intertwines their fingers instead, and gives Steve’s hand a little squeeze as he closes his eyes.

He dreams of music that night. 

Of touring with the band and playing at shows with audiences the size of basketball games. And Steve is there, always at the front, looking on from the crowd. It’s a pulse of tour and show, tour and show, but Steve is there every time. 

Eddie thinks it could happen for real. That maybe—

Maybe Steve will always be there.

Chapter Text

“They think I’m doing drugs.”

Steve's voice sounds soft and distorted by the electric sound of the telephone.

It’s late at night. Eddie should be sleeping already if he wants to get anywhere near the recommended hours of sleep. Tomorrow is another early morning; a day filled with heavy lifting. Only Steve can’t call unless his parents are asleep and he hasn’t been over in a few days because his dad wants him home for the nights. 

Now Eddie knows why.

“Drugs?” Eddie echoes.

“My neighbor, Mrs. Sanders, saw you at the house a couple of times. Guess she told my parents about some weird dude’s nightly visits.”

Eddie tightens his grip on the phone. It bothers him—bothers him a lot—but he doesn’t want to let Steve know. It’s one of the few moments they have during the week and he won’t let the words poison him. Instead, he does his best to make his voice sound light.

“You picking a fight, Harrington?” Eddie quips. On the other side of the line, Steve chuckles and Eddie feels the tension melt away.

“Depends.”

“Depends?”

“On what I get when I inevitably win.” 

Eddie is grinning into the phone. Grinning so broadly it hurts his cheeks. He thinks that maybe he kinda loves Steve. Just a little.

“You are very confident for a guy who is known to lose fights.”

On the other side, he hears Steve let out a soft gasp. “That little traitor.”

Eddie laughs. “Trust me, Dustin sings your praises like a fucking bard.” 

“He better or it will be back to biking for him.”

For a moment it’s quiet on the other line and Eddie had almost forgotten why Steve called him in the first place.

“So I guess there’s no more sleepovers, huh?”

“Eh, depends. I’ve gotten pretty good at sneaking out over the years.”

“Just gotta make sure we get you back in time, right, Cinderella?”

“Or I let down my long, long hair and sneak you in.”  

Well, that just sounds like music to his ears. The thought of breaking the rules with Steve sends a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“Surprisingly fitting for someone known as ‘the hair’.”

Steve laughs and even through the phone’s distortion, the sounds fills him with delight.

“You should get some rest. Don’t want you in zombie-mode tomorrow,” Steve says, then follows up in a far more gentle tone, “Good night, Eddie.”

“Rest well, princess .” Eddie hears Steve snort and then the beep on the other line indicates Steve has hung up. Eddie places the phone back in its socket on the wall and looks around the trailer. 

Tomorrow he’ll be tired as shit, but hearing Steve’s voice was worth it. He walks back to his room, still smiling to himself as he lets himself fall back on his bed. The objects on Steve’s shelf sit unmoved and Eddie sighs as he moves to turn the lights off. 

Just as things were looking up, Steve’s dad had to come in and ruin it.

Eddie’s bed isn’t particularly large, but all by himself it feels bigger than ever. He rolls over to his chest and pulls his pillow close.

When he buries his face in it, it still smells like Steve.

It’s Friday, nearly 11 PM when Eddie drives up to Family Video. It’s raining and the puddles outside shine red with the reflected neon light of the store sign. His guitar lies in its case in the back—coming back from another rehearsal—and he’s a little high on the excitement of the night; a little drunk on Gareth’s unyielding optimism.

The electric shrieking of a guitar dies down from his radio as Eddie kills the engine, and suddenly the van is cast into silence. When he jumps out and slams the door behind him. His boots land heavily into a puddle and he feels water soak his socks.

Gross.

Eddie pushes his way through the doors and is greeted by the familiar jingle. Robin looks up from behind the counter while she’s helping a customer. It’s one of the few people still lingering in the store this close to closing time. 

She gives him a little nod and Eddie makes his way into the store. He mulls about, browsing some of the new arrivals while he waits for Robin to finish up. Once the customer has left, he wanders over to the counter and throws himself on top of it with outstretched arms.

“Robin,” he wines. “Why do they make you work on movie night.”

Robin opens the register and pulls the drawer out. The jingle of coins hitting plastic sounds loud amidst the quiet of the empty store. 

“Technically, every night here is movie night,” Robin says.

Eddie groans in response. “You know what I mean.”

“I take it you’re here for your boyfriend?” 

Eddie cringes.

“He’s not my—” the words die on Eddie’s tongue, killed by Robin’s piercing stare, “Just…don’t say that to his face…lest you wish the king’s wrath befalls you,” he finishes dramatically.

“I think the king,” Robin pauses and looks towards the backroom, “Could use some exposure therapy.”

She clicks her tongue, eying the store entrance. “Will you get the sign? I’ll go get him for you.”

Eddie turns towards the door and flips the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. Behind him, he hears a ruckus stirring until Steve’s voice transitions from muffled complaints to perfectly clear objections. 

Eddie turns around just in time to see the door close behind Steve’s back. 

“For fuck’s sake, Rob, I was working on that.” Steve sighs before looking up and when his eyes meet Eddie’s a shy smile appears on his face.

“Hey, stranger.” Eddie smiles at him. 

The last few days have been hard. He didn’t know it was possible to miss someone so quickly—to have the feeling be so immediate. And yet, he finds Steve’s absence in every corner of his house — the untouched shelf, the extra toothbrush in his bathroom.

The single mug of coffee he makes in the mornings these days.

Eddie hadn’t realized how gradually their lives had intertwined over the past few months. It happened so seamlessly that Steve’s presence had become the default and his absence a deviation.

Steve smiles back but doesn’t say anything. Instead, Eddie watches as Steve disappears behind the counter, only to pop back up with an arm full of VHS cases. 

“Here,” he says as he shoves a pile in Eddie’s direction, “Help me put them away.”

Eddie takes it, almost drops it in the process, and stares at Steve. “I have a feeling you’re abusing your powers here.”

“I know nothing of these powers you speak of.” Steve shoots him a cheeky smile and walks to one of the shelves. 

They stock the shelves in silence and Eddie thinks it may be the highlight of his day, as stupid as that sounds. 

He is working for free after all. 

Behind him, Eddie hears Steve’s soft breathing over the hum of TL light, backed by the quiet patter of rain against glass, and the sound of plastic cases being put back into place. Squatted between the shelves they’re hidden from the street and Eddie thinks he might risk it, with the store being closed and Robin tallying the register in the back. His heart is beating fast with anticipation, and it feels forbidden, part of it, because this isn’t the privacy of their homes.

Eddie lets himself fall back onto the floor, making a soft thud as he shoves himself into the shelf beside Steve. He’s close enough that his thigh is touching the rubber of Steve’s sole.

Eddie leans his head back against the shelf as he watches Steve work. “You’re doing that wrong.” Steve looks over and gives Eddie a questioning look. And that’s when Eddie moves. He tugs Steve gently by the back of his neck, pulling him closer until he can kiss him. Pulls until he feels Steve transition from rigid surprise into soft acceptance as his lips move in response. 

It’s gentle and unhurried, and in this moment Eddie thinks Steve may love him too. 

“Oh my god.” 

Eddie pulls away as if burned, only to see Robin towering over them at the side of the shelves. Steve’s cheeks are flushed as he focuses on restocking once again, pretending that nothing happened.

She smiles, a little bit too happy—a little bit too cheeky. “Hurry up, yeah? I want to go home.” And then, before she turns around to leave. “I’m watching you, Munson.”

Eddie can feel the glee radiate off her and when he catches her gaze from behind the counter. 

She looks almost proud.

It feels like the stuff of movies, Eddie thinks as he stands beneath Steve’s window.

Eddie parked his van a couple of streets away, just outside the fancy part of the neighborhood to avoid having the cops called on him. It took him a good five minutes to reach the Harrington Residence by foot, but when he got there, Steve’s window was open, just as they discussed on the phone. 

It’s late. The light of day is only an indigo echo against the blackness of the night sky. Steve worked late and Eddie started early. And that seems to be the way things are these days.

He hates how their schedules conflict now. It makes him ache for the days when free time seemed abundant; when he could hang out at Family Video during the day while Robin and Steve worked.

The urge to run away is increasingly hard to suppress and he wonders what Steve would say. If he’d join him in his madness.

Eddie looks at the gentle pouring of light from Steve’s room.

It feels kinda thrilling — a little dumb too — to be sneaking into someone’s room at twenty-one. On the bright side, that’s one high school cliché he can cross off the list, even if it’s a little late. 

Eddie grabs the drainpipe and gives it an experimental shake. It seems sturdy enough. And it’s one thing that Eddie is actually good at—climbing. 

He may not be the best at basketball, but he can run just fine and he can climb, and roll, and jump. Back in high school, whenever he was dealing at the occasional house party, he had his fair share of close calls when running from the cops. Some of which definitely included a little climbing every now and then. 

Eddie hoists himself up on the drainpipe and is pleasantly surprised by the ease with which he does so. Seems like construction work, despite being generally horrible, has some perks after all. It doesn’t hurt that Steve seems to like the added definition Eddie has gained.

Once he pulls himself onto the roof, he can walk the last part to Steve’s window. He takes care, walking slowly and placing his feet thoughtfully so as not to create a sound. He cringes when he hears the room creak under his boot, waits a second to gauge a reaction, and when none comes, continues.

When he reaches the window he finds Steve lounging on his bed, messing around with a sketchbook in his lap. He’s wearing sweatpants and a simple T-shirt and seems deeply focused as he draws illuminated in the warm hue of a lamp on his desk. 

Eddie stares a moment, watching the tranquility on Steve’s face, and feels a fondness settle in his heart. 

“I’m kinda missing that hair you promised,” Eddie says as he rests his head on crossed arms on the window sill. Steve jumps up, visibly surprised, and quickly makes his way over to the window.  

“Tone down on the volume. My parents are at the end of the hall,” Steve whispers as he shoves the window open a little further. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie slips his legs through and quietly — as quietly as he can manage — lands with his heavy boots on the carpeted floor of Steve’s room. 

Steve cringes at the sound and looks towards his bedroom door. Eddie follows his gaze.

“I don’t suppose you can lock that?”

“My parents don’t believe in privacy. It comes with some trauma, believe me.”

Eddie raises an amused eyebrow. “Daddy caught you choking the chicken, slapping the ol’ salami, stroking the one-eyed sn—”

Steve slaps a hand over Eddie’s mouth, his eyes wide. “Oh my god, will you stop it,” he hisses.

Eddie just laughs and licks a wet stripe over the inside of Steve’s hand. Steve pulls his hand away, grimacing.

“Dude.” Steve rubs his hand on his sweatpants. “But no, it was my mom. More than once, unfortunately. I’m pretty sure she’s equally traumatized.”

“But not enough to get you a lock.”

“Apparently not.”

Eddie feels something brewing in his gut. An irrepressible need for some mischief; to tease Steve a little.

“It’s kinda exciting too right? The possibility of being caught?” Eddie takes a step towards Steve, walking him back until the back of his calves hits the bed.

Steve’s eyes widen slightly, a flush creeping up his neck. “Really? That’s your takeaway?”

“What? Like this isn’t a booty call?” Eddie pushes Steve back until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, then moves the straddle him, placing himself heavy on Steve’s thighs. His hand finds the curve of Steve’s neck, thumbing at his jawbone and ghosting his lips there. 

Steve rests his hands on Eddie’s hips, fingers playing absent-mindedly with the hem of his shirt. He looks back to the door again, brows furrowed as he seems to think. 

“We have to be quiet,” he whispers finally, turning his head back to Eddie. His lips are so close that Eddie can almost taste the words; feels them prickle on his skin with heat and intention.

“Then you better be quiet.” Steve opens his mouth to protest, but it’s reduced to a quiet groan as Eddie softly moves his lips over Steve’s.

He pulls back abruptly and Steve whines in response. “Hold on, I got you something.”

Steve eyes him curiously while Eddie digs through his pocket. When he feels his fingers hit soft plastic, he wraps his hand around it and pulls it out. He holds it out in front of Steve’s face and smiles broadly.

“A joint?” Steve looks at the baggy with a frown.

“I can’t stand having you falsely accused.” 

“And your solution is to have me rightly accused?”

“Exactly!”

Steve slaps a hand over Eddie’s mouth, making a shushing sound. This time, Eddie pulls it away gently and holds the hand, intertwining their fingers. He leans in, speaking his words against Steve’s lips. 

“What do you say?”

“I say,” Steve breathes, “You’re every bit the bad influence Mrs. Sanders thinks you are.”

Eddie leans forward, briefly capturing Steve’s lip before pulling back. Steve chases them and Eddie feels a flutter in his chest at the movement. “Let’s get on the roof. This stuff kinda reeks.”

Eddie steps away from Steve, pulling him up to his feet by their intertwined hands, and guides him to the window. Eddie climbs through first, followed by Steve whose exit is smooth and quick, painted by experience, and Eddie wonders how often Steve has sneaked out and why. It’s probably girls, and it stirs something ugly in his gut.

Jealousy , he thinks. 

Eddie isn’t stupid, he’s heard the rumors. He knows Steve has been around and it makes him a little insecure. He doesn’t mind it, not really. He’s hardly set on that purity bullshit. It’s just that Eddie hasn’t had much experience.

Eddie sits down on the roof and waits for Steve to join him. He puts the joint between his lips and strikes his zippo — one, two, three times — to light it. He takes a few short drags to let it truly catch and when it does finally inhales fully before handing the joint to Steve.

The scent drifts around them, up into the cloudless sky. Before them the pool glows blue and the trees outside the garden are little more than black smudges against the midnight sky. 

“It’s been some time since I’ve done this,” Steve says as he shifts a little closer to Eddie’s side. They’re as close as they can get, side to side, and Eddie slides his arm behind Steve to try and keep him a little warmer in the night’s chill.  

Steve takes a tentative pull, and breathes it in, not too deep, before releasing the smoke from his lips with his head tilted towards the sky. 

They sit in silence and smoke until the joint is halfway gone. Eddie stubs it, saves it for later, as he leans back as well. It’s a clear night and stars dot the sky more brightly than he’s ever appreciated in Hawkins. 

“When did you know you liked me?” Steve asks from his side. His voice sounds a little slow.

“Bold of you to assume I do.” Eddie stares straight ahead, keeping his face as neutral as he can manage. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Steve playfully slaps at his arm and Eddie breaks, a grin growing on his face. “Fine, guess I will—shut up that is.”

“No, tell me,” Steve whines. 

And Eddie feels like he can’t refuse Steve anything. He’d probably set the world on fire for this guy if only to keep him warm.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, “It was probably somewhere after you started dating that girl.”

Eddie doesn’t know why but he feels himself grow nervous. His hands are itching for something to do and he briefly considers lighting the joint again. It’s too soon. Instead, he twists at his rings — the skull one on his ring finger — with his thumb as he waits for Steve’s response.

“What? Jennifer?” Steve frowns.

“Right. That’s the one.”

For a moment, Steve is silent. Eddie can hear his lips move as if he’s silently speaking to himself, and then he does. 

“Can I tell you something? Promise not to laugh.”

“Cross my heart.” Eddie lays a hand over his chest.

“I think I only started dating her because I was confused.”

Steve’s voice sounds fragile and from the corner of his eyes, Eddie can see Steve looking at him—gauging his reaction. But that can’t be right, because Steve always seems so confident. So unapologetically affectionate and intimate that it makes Eddie’s head spin. Now Steve looks vulnerable.

“Confused?” Eddie echoes.

Steve is playing with the hem of his shirt. Folding it over and back again between his fingers. 

“About my feelings….for you.” Steve looks away. He’s blushing. Eddie is making him blush . 

It’s the first time it really hits him, that maybe he affects Steve just as much as Steve does him. That maybe all that time he anguished over Steve’s confusing behavior, Steve actually was confused himself.

That maybe there was little to rationalize. 

“Pray the gay away, huh?” Eddie feels the words slip his mouth, and they feel more mean than he intended them to.

“I’m not—” Steve cuts himself off, “Anyway, yeah, that’s why it didn’t work out. She caught on pretty quickly that something wasn’t right.”

It stings because he knows what Steve was going to say. And perhaps he just needs more time, who can say? Eddie tries not to show the hurt on his face. Instead, he focuses on whatever Steve is willing to give him. And it’s a lot, isn’t it? More than he ever expected. More than he dared to dream.

“You tried to get her back anyway?”

“I don’t know. I was a mess. I just wanted to get out; wanted you there with me I guess.” Steve still isn’t looking at him; still fidgeting with his shirt.

“You know, that night I thought you were going to kiss me.” Eddie lets out a nervous chuckle.

Steve is silent for a moment.

“I thought so too,” he admits. It surprises Eddie—Steve’s frankness. Back then, he figured he had gotten it all wrong. That it only looked that way. Never did he dream it might actually be—

“You’re a confusing guy, you know that?” he tells Steve.

“Like you aren’t.” Steve sends him a little smile to soften his words and Eddie can’t help but smile back. 

They really are a bunch of idiots.

“Look, since we’re on the honesty train here, I’ll tell you something too.” Eddie starts. He fidgets with his ring, fixing his gaze back on the pool. He imagines its depths and from up here on the roof, it looks nearly bottomless — a blue void, or a portal to another realm. 

“In the beginning, I was just— fucking around with you I guess? Testing your limits, pushing your buttons. Trying to get a rise out of the great King Steve. You were a total buzz kill by the way.”

Steve frowns. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is,” Eddie turns to face Steve—really face him as he shifts his arm from behind Steve, moving it lower to steady himself. Steve looks back, brown eyes searching his face. “I was getting close to you, like, physically close, only to push you away. But you, Mr. Harrington, are impossible to spook. And at some point, I began to like it. The way you would stand so close to me; touch me so casually. I guess I’ve never really had that. Never allowed anyone to. You totally broke me.”

“In a good way?” Steve eyes him questioningly, his gaze a little troubled.

“Definitely a good way. Like a piñata. Cracked me open and I’m full of candy.” Eddie lets himself fall back on the roof with his arms folded behind his head.

“You are so weird,” Steve chuckles, “I bet you taste like candy too.”

Steve leans over then, capturing Eddie’s lips without hesitation. A small, more sensible part of his brain tells him that it’s kinda fucking dangerous to get frisky on a roof, even if it isn’t that sloped. But Steve’s tongue is like a dagger and Eddie’s sensibilities susceptible to piercing damage.

He allows himself to be pushed back; to have Steve press his weight into Eddie while he works his mouth. Steve cradles his jaw and wills his lips to part. Steve’s tongue slides hot against his own and Eddie lets out a small desperate sound as Steve’s other hand makes its way down until he finds the hem of his shirt. He moves over his skin, fingers leaving behind a trail of electricity as they feel and explore. 

It’s overwhelming, maybe more so than before. 

Eddie digs his hands in the back of Steve’s shirt, pulling the fabric taut until there is no more give. He aches for Steve, aches for his touch—everywhere. 

Steve breaks the kiss, moving his lips down until they find the crook of Eddie’s neck, and kisses him there. Sucks and bites in a way that gives him goosebumps all over.

“Do you think Mrs. Sanders is watching?” Eddie breathes in Steve’s ear. 

“So what if she is?” Steve rolls his hips and it sends a shockwave through Eddie. Makes him tingle all the way from his head to his toes.

“Then we better give her a sho—” Eddie’s words are interrupted by another roll of Steve’s hips and he feels himself gasp, fingers digging harder into Steve’s back, pulling at the fabric until Steve’s back is exposed to the world. 

He needs to feel Steve. Needs to be skin to skin as he pulls at Steve’s shirt—pulls it over his head until it comes off and Steve is looking down on him. But Eddie’s clothes aren’t that easy. He swears at himself. At his stupid choice of wardrobe—shirt and jacket over jacket.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” Eddie feels slightly out of breath. Steve nods. 

Eddie removes his jacket and shirt with a haste he has never known in his life. Removes his pants for good measure, just like Steve, until they’re both naked.

When Steve pushes him back on his bed, it feels familiar against his back. He is reminded of the first time he slept here, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Only now the ceiling is concealed by Steve’s hovering form. And instead of nervous awkwardness, he feels a sense of giddy anticipation when Steve’s lips find his. 

He doesn’t try to think of the lockless door. Doesn’t try to, but somehow finds a renewed sense of danger and excitement in the idea.

He moves with Steve, parts his legs, and allows Steve to settle between them. To set a rhythm as he moves above him. And it feels good—so good—the slide of Steve’s dick against his own. Steve moves from his lips, down to the column of his throat, and then keeps moving, placing small kisses and sucking at the skin of Eddie’s chest without losing his rhythm.

Down—down.

Eddie’s heart is hammering in his chest with every kiss, every lick, and he doesn’t expect it when he feels a hand wrap itself around his dick. 

When he moves his head to look down, he sees Steve’s mouth ghosting over his cock. The sight alone nearly tips him over and that’s all the warning he gets before Steve runs his tongue, base to lip over the length of it. 

It’s so intense, so overwhelming that Eddie throws his head back into Steve’s pillow and he bite his knuckle to still the sounds begging to escape him. 

Steve takes it as encouragement, taking him in as far as he can, guided by his hand, and Eddie loses all sensible thought. It’s just him and Steve and the overwhelming sensation of Steve working him, sucking him in like he’s made for it. He whispers Steve’s name like a chant. Tries to keep his voice down as he moans softly in tune with Steve’s movements. His hands grip uselessly at the bedding as he moves with it, feels his hips dying to buck under the sensation, only to be kept down by Steve’s insistent hand. 

He’s good at it, so good. And it doesn’t take long for Eddie to feel that familiar heat bubble in his gut. 

“Steve,” he whispers uselessly, his hand moving towards Steve’s hair, burying it there. “Steve I’m close,” he crooks out.

Steve pulls back then, lips pink and plump from the abuse. He moves his thighs underneath Eddie’s until their cocks line up and then grabs hold of them together, leaning forwards on one hand next to Eddie’s head and kisses him again. 

And it’s too much—too much when Steve’s hand starts moving. When Eddie can taste himself on Steve’s tongue that licks itself into his mouth. It’s all it takes. Eddie drags his nails over Steve’s back, and Steve groans into his mouth as Eddie feels his hot release fall between them on his stomach. Pleasure is ripping through him—ripping him apart as Steve works him through it — swallowing every sob, every whimper. It doesn’t take long for Steve to get there too and he buries his sounds in Eddie’s neck as he adds to the mess on his stomach. 

Steve lets himself fall next to Eddie, catching his breath for a moment before leaning over again, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, then below his eye, and finally, his lips, lingering there for a sweet moment before getting up and fetching some tissues. 

Steve makes a show of cleaning him up. Does so gently and quietly, before moving back into the bed next to Eddie, one leg draped over his body as he buries his face into his pillow.

They lie there for a moment, and Eddie feels exhaustion overcome him.

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. Steve lets out a soft groan in return. Eddie turns to his side and tries again. “Steve.”

This time Steve turns his head with eyes still closed. “Hm?”

“I think I should go,” he whispers into Steve’s hair. Steve groans again, and it sounds like objection.

“Stay,” Steve whines softly. And Eddie wishes he could as he pries himself away. As much as he would love to, it wouldn’t be wise. Nothing about tonight was wise—as much as it was fun.

They shouldn’t tempt fate. 

Steve remains unmoved on the bed, opening a lazy eye as he watches Eddie dress. Once Eddie is fully dressed, he leans over to Steve, placing another kiss into his hair.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says before climbing his way out of the window. Steve doesn’t respond, and Eddie smiles to himself as he softly closes it behind him.

Chapter Text

Eddie sits in his van, rhythmically tapping his fingers along the leather surface of the steering wheel as he watches Steve lock up for the day. With the sun setting and an overcast sky, it’s unusually dark for the hour of day. The windshield catches small droplets of rain that shine like rubies in the bright neon of the Family Video sign.

It had become their little ritual. Something Eddie looked forward to during weeknights. He’d wait until Steve finished work, pick him up in the van, and they would talk and mess around for as long as they could get away with.

As much as Eddie liked their little tryst at the Harrington Residence, the risks weren’t worth it. So now, they’re sneaking around like a couple of teenagers, messing around in their cars on empty parking lots and abandoned roadsides, like they’re scared their parents may catch them. 

Which isn’t too much of a stretch, given Steve’s dad’s sudden interest in his son.

Eddie reaches for his radio. The violent sounds of metal screeching come to a sudden halt as he ejects the cassette and replaces it with something more mellow; more to Steve’s taste. 

Stevie Nick’s voice drifts through the van and is soon supplemented with soft knocking on glass. When Eddie looks up he sees Steve’s grinning face, silhouette outlined by red light. Eddie unlocks the door and Steve greets him with a ‘hey’. He works himself straight to the back of the van and sets himself on the middle of the thin mattress from their camping trip. He leans back on his elbows as he watches Eddie. 

Waits for him.

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. They have long since skipped the formalities—moving straight to business. They have little time after all, before Steve’s dad grows suspicious.

He settles between Steve’s legs, pushing him back against the mattress with hands on either side of his face as his lips grace over Steve’s.

“Good day?” he asks as he showers Steve with kisses.

Steve laughs and wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. “Fine, you?” he forces out between Eddie’s assault.

“Hmm, yes,” Eddie mumbles against his lips.

“You’re just saying that.”

“Hmm, yes.” Eddie moves his lips down, sucks underneath Steve’s jaw, and that earns him a little whimper. 

Eddie smiles against his skin. He has made it his personal mission to find the things that make Steve tick—to see how much of a mess he can make of him. 

Steve’s been doing the same, and Eddie thinks there is nothing Steve can do he won’t like. He likes the feeling of Steve’s weight on him just as much as he likes feeling Steve beneath him.

“Get on with it,” Steve demands. And he’s probably right because they have about twenty more minutes until Steve’s excuses of lingering customers and residual paperwork become unbelievable.

“Fuck, I love it when you’re needy,” Eddie breathes.

Steve scoffs, a flush high on his cheeks. Steve likes it when Eddie teases him like that—just as much as Eddie likes it when Steve gets demanding. Steve seems to have grown impatient and reaches for Eddie’s belt. He pulls it loose, hands gracing his rapidly hardening interest through thick denim. 

Eddie’s breath hitches.

He would like to take his time—get Steve all hot and bothered and take him apart piece by piece. But time isn’t on their side tonight. It isn’t most nights, except the weekends.

Eddie wants a bed and an empty house. Wants to make Steve scream and beg and whimper and moan. Instead, Eddie’s hands scramble at Steve’s belt. Peels off the layers of fabric until they’re skin to skin with their pants around their thighs. Steve is palming him, touch quickly growing from featherlight to achingly there. Moving his hand, pumping him slowly the way he knows Eddie likes it.

Eddie lets out a soft moan and Steve swallows it as he forces Eddie’s head down for a kiss. Eddie mirrors him, runs his fingers down Steve’s length before grabbing hold of him. He strokes Steve, moves his hands good and steady—base to tip—the way Steve likes it. Feels Steve press his lips needy and sloppy against his own as he increases his tempo and uses his other hand to push Steve’s shirt up. Reveals his heaving chest as he moves his hand up until it slips to the back of Steve’s neck and holds him there.

And it’s like his neck was made for him. The perfect size for him to hold, to grab for leverage as they move against one another frantically. And Eddie’s heart is beating fast now. Steve is a mess beneath him. Beautiful with cheeks flushed pink and half-lidded eyes.

“I want to fuck you,” Steve breathes. “Want to fuck you so bad.”

Eddie lets out an approving groan. Thinks he would let Steve do about anything right now, and how it’s too bad they have so little time. Thinks of how it would feel to have Steve work him open. To fill him up. Eddie sinks his teeth in Steve’s skin and stifles a moan. Bites hard enough to leave a mark at the junction between his neck and collarbone. 

Steve swatches his hand away from his dick as moves to grab them both. The sensation is something different entirely. Cocks slick with pre-come moving over one another in the tight cocoon of Steve’s hand. 

“Just like that,” he tells Steve. “Keep going, baby.”

Steve hums approvingly and Eddie doesn’t think he’ll last much longer. Steve’s tempo is punishing, the heat between them burning as the windows start to fog up.

“Fuck,” Eddie chokes out. It sounds like a cry. 

And he’s so close.

So close, just like Steve. He can tell by the way his breath hitches and his movements grow sloppy. 

“Come for me, baby.” Eddie chants it against Steve’s lips—chants it like a spell. And Steve obliges. Hands slowing down and hips stuttering as Steve releases over his stomach. He lets go of himself then, focuses what little attention he has left to give on Eddie and it’s all he needs. He adds to the mess on Steve’s stomach. Steve wrings it out of him until there is nothing left to give.

Eddie drops himself on the mattress next to Steve, chest heaving with exertion. He lazily reaches over to the box of tissues and plucks a few. He catches his breath for a moment before leaning over to clean Steve up. Kisses him deep and slow for good measure and stands up as straight as he can without hitting his head. 

They dress themselves. The evidence of their activities only a memory once Eddie moves himself in front of the sliding car door. 

“Tomorrow—” Steve starts.

“Yes, I know. 8:20 at yours, then onto Robin.” 

Steve smiles, but there’s an edge to it. Sharp and jagged. 

Tomorrow they’ll pick up Robin to drop her off in Indianapolis. A one-way ride for her until autumn break, maybe a weekend here or there in between if they’re lucky.

Steve is having a hard time.

“It will be okay, we can visit her every weekend. Until she won’t open her door—until the neighbors call the cops on us.” Eddie gives Steve’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze and shoots him a cheeky smile to lighten the mood. Wonders how well Steve can even see him.

Steve gives him a final peck on the cheek and steps out of the van. 

“See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Eddie echoes back at him. 

“Smile!”

Before either Robin or Steve have a chance to respond, a bright white flash blinds them. Eddie smiles as he lowers the disposable camera from his face. He’s pretty sure he caught Robin frowning and Steve mid-sentence, but it will add to the charm.

“What are you doing with that?” Robin blinks a few times before placing another box in the opening of the van.

“What does it look like?” Eddie raises the camera to his face again and walks up to Robin until her face is only a small distance away from the camera.

“Not helping—” she starts but is quickly cut off by another flash. She squints at him. 

Eddie relents then, and places the camera in the thigh-pocket of his cargo shorts. “For your information, I’m documenting. The camera will be yours to develop once we drop you off.” He moves into the van and arranges the newly placed box among Robin’s other belongings. 

Robin frowns at him. “How many pictures are on there now?”

“Hm, about seven or so.” Eddie sends her a mischievous smile.

“Please tell me they’re all good Christian pictures.” Robin pulls a face as she hands Eddie another box.

“That’s for me to know,” Eddie turns around to place it deeper into the van, “and for you to find out.”

He sees Robin look behind her, presumably at Steve. “He didn’t,” he hears Steve say.

“You don’t know that!” Eddie yells from within the van, his voice echoing against the metal siding.

Packing Robin’s stuff doesn’t take too long and there is still plenty of room left in the van. After a while, Robin’s mom joins them outside. Eddie realizes he has never actually seen her. The few times he visited Robin at her house, her parents were either still at work, and one time visiting her grandmother on the other side of town. Mrs. Buckley looks remarkably similar to her, lines drawing at the sides of her mouth in much the same way they do on Robin when she smiles.

Mrs. Buckley captures Steve in a warm embrace as she thanks him for seeing Robin off, and tells him to not be shy to visit them, even if Robin isn’t there. Eddie smiles to himself.

The sky is blue and the sun is steadily rising from the east. Eddie wonders if it will look the same in Indianapolis when Robin wakes up there. 

He’ll miss her. He will miss the movie nights and the snarky comments whenever he visits Family Video.

He thinks Steve will miss her more.

Eddie didn’t realize then—not to the extent that he does now—that Steve and Robin are part of a whole. Perfectly attuned. Synched up. He looks at Steve as he smiles at Mrs. Buckley. Sees the way his eyes grow fond and smile lines etched themselves around the delicate skin of his eyes. 

Eddie makes a mental note. Believes he may have seen every expression on Steve’s face by now: sorrow, regret, uncertainty, but also joy, laughter, pleasure. Maybe even love. Love for Robin.

Love for him.

Steve and Robin turn to him, and Eddie realizes they must have called his name. He wasn’t paying attention. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he eyes the three of them.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing to be sorry about, dear,” Mrs. Buckley tells him, “I just wanted to tell you thank you for driving.”

“Oh, right,” Eddie’s eyes shift from Mrs. Buckley to Robin and back again, “The pleasure’s all mine,”  he says cordially. 

Not much later, they’re on the road. Stevie Wonder is singing of dreams and chains, and Eddie feels a little heady with the memories of yesterday night swirling through his mind. When he looks in his rearview mirror, he sees Robin and leaves poking out next to her face from a large plant she’s holding on the seat next to her. She looks a little nervous. A little giddy too. 

New beginnings are always like that. 

Next to him, Steve is silent. Eddie can’t really blame him. His better half is leaving, and even though Indianapolis is only a two-hour drive, it’s completely different from the way they saw each other nearly every day. Eddie gives Steve’s thigh a gentle squeeze. With his eyes on the road, Eddie doesn’t see it when Steve interweaves their fingers. He only feels the way his heart flutters at the touch.

The drive to Indy is fields and forest until it isn’t. Once they reach the outskirts of the city, green and yellow make way for companies lining the side of the road. Stone, gravel, and sand. Piles upon piles of logs, until those make way for furniture outlets and fast food restaurants. Soon they’re surrounded by buildings taller than anything he’s seen in Hawkins and Eddie realizes they will leave Robin there—surrounded by tall concrete and glass, with no one to look after her but Vickie. 

Maybe that’s some solace. Robin and Vickie had managed to get a little off-campus apartment to share with two others—strangers that neither of them know. Eddie is glad she isn’t alone. He can see Steve is too, despite struggling with her imminent departure.

He parks the van on the side of the road. Robin and Steve start unloading while Eddie digs through his pockets for some change for the parking meter. He pulls his hand from his pocket, a few coins falling and hitting the concrete pavement. He curses silently as he picks them up. 

“It’s quite a climb,” Robin pants softly as Eddie puts the parking receipt in his window. “We’re on the fifth floor.” Robin eyes the boxes, plants, and some other belongings in the back of the van, “I’m guessing it will take us a couple of trips.”

A couple of trips was a bit on the optimistic side. Once they have all of Robin’s stuff unloaded, Eddie is heaving with exertion. He throws himself on the little green sofa in the living room, half landing on Steve as he sighs dramatically.

Robin returns from the kitchen with a couple of mugs. “I couldn’t find any glasses. It’s just water.” She hands them a mug and Eddie takes it gratefully. 

The living room is small and a mismatch of furniture. There’s a small kitchen in the corner and a round dining table with four different chairs. It’s fine, probably, but nothing fancy. Something just affordable on the scholarship Robin worked so hard for. 

Robin pulls out a chair from the table and sits down. 

A few hours later, Vickie arrives with her parents in tow. Eddie reluctantly peels himself off the couch again to scale the five flights of stairs once more. This time, moving all the stuff upstairs goes a lot faster, no doubt helped by the fact they now have six people carrying instead of three. 

Once Vickie is settled in, her parents kiss her goodbye, entrusting her to Robin for the foreseeable future.

They get takeout from a Chinese restaurant just outside the complex and sit on the floor, a beat-up coffee table between himself, Robin, and Vickie, and with Steve at his side.  Eddie pokes at his fried rice as he watches Robin and Vickie. Wonders if they finally got a clue. Probably not, but they’re roommates now. The girls are sitting a little bit too close as Vickie laughs all rosy-cheeked at Robin’s joke. 

Next to him, Steve lets out a soft chuckle, but his heart is not in it. Eddie can tell by now. And it’s probably bittersweet, that this may be the last time they’ll be together so easily. His hand finds Steve’s under the table and he gives it a gentle squeeze. Steve looks over, a small smile playing on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

They leave the apartment once the sun dips behind the buildings and shadows over concrete grow long and dark. They booked a hotel a twenty-minute walk away. Eddie suggests they could take a taxi but Steve insists on walking.

Around them, the city buzzes with life in a way he’s not used to. At this time of night, Hawkins would already be settled into a deep sleep. In the city, however, cars are passing them by at greater frequency than he ever witnessed this time of day, and people are still walking about, visiting shops that would long since have closed. Eddie likes it. Looks at the light pouring through curtained windows and imagines the people living there. Imagines them happy and content. No one to please but themselves.

Freedom.

Eddie realizes that’s what he craves. 

Maybe what he’s wanted all this time. 

Freedom to be himself.

Freedom to be with Steve.

He may live in Hawkins, but he isn’t really living.   

The feeling overwhelms him. Nearly knocks the wind out of him as he stops in his tracks. Steve continues a few steps before he looks back. 

“Eddie?”

Eddie just stares. Looks at the tiny lights in the buildings—each one someone. 

Each one could be them.

“Steve,” Eddie starts. He turns his head to look at him. Steve is still standing a few feet away, his eyebrows gently furrowed. Eddie feels his heart rate pick up as the words form on his tongue. “What if—” he swallows heavily, and Steve’s furrow increases, “What if we moved? To the city I mean. Near Robin?”

Steve is quiet. His form dark against the purple sky. A car passes by and bathes him in light. Turns his figure nearly white for a moment.

Eddie licks his lips, waiting for Steve to say something.

Anything.

“I…” Steve starts, “I want to.”

It feels like a ‘but’. Eddie waits, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, then reaches for his face. Eddie takes a few steps until he’s standing in front of Steve. He wants to touch him, peel away the hand from his face and hold it. 

He can’t. 

Not out here.

“I was going to tell you. Fuck, this is such bad timing. I’m—” Steve cuts himself off. Eddie feels something sink then. The giddy anticipation of mere seconds ago evaporating into thin air.

“Can we talk about this at the hotel?” Steve asks him. His eyes look pleading, and Eddie feels like he can’t do anything but agree.

The rest of the walk, his heart sits heavy in his chest. He drags it up the stairs once they arrive at their shabby hotel. The room is small with twin beds that leave barely enough room to go around them. The windows are thin and the sound of cars passing by so loud the glass shakes with it.

Steve sits down on one of the beds. Eddie sits down next to him, turns to Steve, and searches his face as he waits for Steve to speak. 

“Dad made me quit my job,” Steve says the words without any padding. Spits them out and lets them hang between them. 

“He…what?” 

“He made me call Family Video. Said since my girlfriend quit and is off to college, it would be embarrassing for her to have me work at Family Video.”

“Girlfriend?”

Steve shrugs. “My dad thinks we’re dating. Robin’s parents too. We just never…corrected them, I guess?”

It stings a little. Nothing too bad. Nothing Eddie can’t handle. 

“He made you call them?”

“Yeah, made me do it while he watched. Said I could start at his company after the weekend.” Steve’s voice grows strained and tight. “Told me they put in an offer on a family house in Hawkins too. Expect me to live there. Earn a living, make a home.”

The words sink. They hit the bottom of his gut, and Eddie feels like he can’t breathe. He stays silent for a moment. Looks at his hands as he folds and unfolds his fingers. 

“They really got it all planned, huh?”

Steve doesn’t respond, and when Eddie looks over he sees how it affects him. How it pulls his muscles taut and strains his eyes. 

“I want to do it,” Steve says finally. He’s looking out at the window. Tiny lights dot their view and the moon is big and bright. “I want to move here. With you. Near Robin. I’m just not sure my parents will ever forgive me—if they even want to see me when I go.”

The unease in Eddie changes. Shifts into something sharper; something more cutting. 

“You can’t let them determine how to live your life,” Eddie says. There’s a fire in his gut and his words burn with it. “In like what, twenty years, they might be dead, and then what?” Steve still isn’t looking at him, and Eddie can’t stand it. Won’t stand for it. “Don’t waste your life on approval.”

His fingers find Steve’s jaw and he gives it a gentle push, forces Steve to look at him. And Steve does so, reluctantly. Moves his eyes from his hands to Eddie’s face. 

Two tiny stars.

Eddie thinks of the dock again. Of the overwhelming sadness and loss Steve had felt at that moment. Thinks that if Steve chooses his parents’ over his own happiness, he may end up like that for good. 

He wants the best for Steve. Wants Steve to live a life he’s happy with. Might even be proud of. He can’t let Hawkins be his coffin. But Eddie feels selfish for it too. So selfish, because the insinuation is there.

“You’re right,” Steve says finally. “You know, they mean well. They want me to succeed. They just don’t want me to do it the wrong way.” Steve smiles wryly. “Did you know I got a scholarship—swimming—Dad was livid when I told him I wouldn’t go.”

Steve chuckles and Eddie can’t do anything but listen. Watch as Steve looks back towards the window wistfully. 

“You know, I never apologized.”

“Apologized?”

“For what I said, on the dock back when we went camping. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“Steve, that’s fine. It’s oka—”

“No, listen to me, Eddie. It wasn’t okay. It was horrible.”

“That’s all in the past—”

“No, I mean it. I think I got it all wrong then. The things I said about family—my dream. I got it all twisted.” Steve turns to Eddie, holds his face and searches his eyes. 

For the first time in his life, Eddie has the feeling someone truly sees him.  

Not just his shell—his hull. It feels like Steve is staring right into his soul, touching it with gentle hands. Looking at him like he’s seeing beauty Eddie can’t quite appreciate himself. 

“My parents are home, but I’m still alone, while even the thought of you makes me feel held and wanted and loved.”

Loved.

“Steve—”

“No, listen to me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  Steve swipes a thumb over his cheeks in a movement that seems almost subconscious. “Because you, and Robin, and the kids—you are my family.  And life doesn’t have to be an episode of full-house for it to feel that way.” 

Eddie’s throat feels tight and he realizes too late it's his heart crying out. Not in fear or uncertainty or sadness, but in joy. A quiet sob escapes his lips before he can help himself. 

Fuck. Eddie doesn’t want to let himself go like that. 

Weak and helpless. 

Thoughts are best unspoken. His father’s words echo in his mind, and he realizes now how untrue they ring. 

Eddie reaches for Steve’s face too, holds it in his fingers, studies it. Every line, muscle and bone. 

“I love you.” He searches Steve’s eyes, sees them widen for a moment before growing soft.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

Steve leans forward and places a soft kiss on his lips, delicate like a poppy flower. He pulls Eddie down until they’re lying on their sides, facing each other, holding each other in the cold hard light of the moon, serenaded by the sound of passing cars. 

“Say it again,” Eddie whispers.

“I love you.” Steve places a kiss on his forehead. Repeats the words as he kisses Eddie underneath each eye. 

“It’s gonna be hard,” Steve whispers against his lips.

“So fucking hard,” Eddie chuckles softly, “We’re going to be broke as hell.” 

“I don’t care.” Steve smiles, genuine this time. Reaches his eyes like all his smiles should.

He doesn’t care either. Doesn’t care about a thing in this whole wide world except kissing Steve right now. Kissing him so hard his smile is imprinted into his bones. 

To make it stay there for the rest of his life.

Chapter Text

Steve hasn’t been home in a week. 

He puts on a brave face, but Eddie can see it’s eating away at him. Sees it flicker—gone only when they lay in his bed, staring at each other’s sun-streaked faces in the early mornings. There’s comfort in the summer-grown habit—one that carved itself into their skin and bound them together in scars. 

Still, even those moments can’t keep the sadness at bay.

Eddie thinks he’s mourning his losses; his parents’ approval—or at least the illusion thereof. Not that Steve would never get it. Not in any meaningful capacity at least. Of that Eddie is sure. 

Steve’s parents don’t even know they’re dating. That would probably make things worse, might get Steve disowned even. Not that he’s not skirting that edge right now.

And Steve’s parents probably heard the neighbors talk. Whispers of that weird drug dealer guy who came to their house with his van while they were out and proceeded to help Steve pack his things. Maybe they’ll even tell them how close they seemed.

How their touches lingered just a little too long. 

Maybe, but probably not. Those are probably the least of Steve’s offenses right now.

There was a fight. An ugly one, when Steve told his parents he was leaving. Eddie heard it in the bits and pieces Steve shared. Puzzled it together from Steve’s disjointed tellings in the week they spent at the trailer—the time they had to bid until they would receive the keys to their apartment. 

Steve’s father had a lot to say about it. About Steve wasting his life—his opportunities—and what for? So he could go out and get high every goddamn day like that loser junkie. 

Steve’s father had a lot to say until he didn’t. Until there was nothing but silence and a refusal to answer the phone. Steve’s mother called twice, tried to mediate—a poor attempt, really, because it required Steve to yield and no concessions from their side. So they stayed at the trailer, and unlike Steve’s parents, Wayne did nothing more than raise a curious eyebrow at Steve’s return, was nothing but supportive of Eddie’s plan to move to the city. 

Supportive and a bit skeptical, because objectively, their plan was optimistic at best. 

‘If all goes to shit, don’t roam those Indy streets, yeah? You come back here. There will always be a bed for you to sleep in, and a plate for you to eat off.’ 

Munson code for ‘I love you’, even though Uncle Wayne never said it so overtly.

Still, the week was rough for Steve. He’s a bad actor. All smiles through teeth that don’t reach his eyes. During the nights, he pressed himself against Eddie, so close he thinks Steve would rather live inside of him. So Eddie did the next best thing—wrapped his arms around Steve and held him tight. Held Steve through the shaking sobs of the first night, until a stillness settled in him the following ones. 

There is no cure for heartbreak, only the gentle flow of time, carrying sand to eat away at the sharp corners until they no longer draw blood. Eddie will hold him through it all—will catch the corners until time erodes the pain.

Steve is silent the whole drive to Indianapolis. Does nothing but stare out of the window as Hawkins grows distant in the rearview mirror. Watching until it’s gone altogether and the reality of their decisions rains down on them like a summer storm.

Eddie understands—has mourned his father as well. But he’s dead to him now, rotting somewhere in prison. Probably. A new felony every few years or so, until he’s in there for life. Who cares. 

The point is, Eddie knows how much it hurts—the loss of ‘what could be’. But it will get better. 

Steve will get better.

Their new studio apartment is small, and the neighborhood is shit. The faucets are leaky, the walls moldy, and there is a weird smell he can’t quite place.They don’t own anything, except whatever they managed to fit in the van. Sure, they both have savings, but Eddie feels like it’s risky to spend it on furniture when Steve is the only one earning some cash from his Family Video transfer—something he’s thankful for, by the way. Keith was surprisingly understanding when Steve explained just why he had called in his resignation. 

So yeah, they’re poor, with just some savings, and Eddie doesn’t have a job yet. It’s a big fucking risk they’re taking. 

One he could take again and again for Steve.

They just finished dragging the shitty camping mattress up the stairs—the last big item in the van—when Robin and Vickie show up. It’s nearly three in the afternoon and Robin said they would be done with classes for the day. The sound of wood hitting carpet alerts Steve and Eddie of their arrival and when they turn towards the open door, they see Robin carrying a Kroger’s bag and Vickie a…chair?

She moves it around, sitting down on the red wooden spool chair and sighs. “This—” she takes a few deep breaths, “—gets awfully heavy after ten blocks.”

Robin rolls her eyes “I told you to leave it.”

Vickie shoots them a sheepish smile. “Anyway, got you a housewarming gift!” She presents it with wiggly hands, and even sad Steve can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. It makes Eddie’s heart skip a beat; a sweet momentary relief to see him still capable of laughter.

Robin goes straight for Steve, gives him a big hug, and shoves the bag into his hand. “I got you some things…to get you started.” Eddie looks at the two of them, sees the affection in Robin’s smile, the concern in her eyes. Once Steve takes the bag from her hands and peeks inside, Robin makes her way to Eddie. Wraps him in a hug that is just as tight and squeezes his shoulder. She sends him a look, and Eddie doesn’t need words to get what she means. 

How has he been?

Eddie gives her a tight-lipped smile. She seems to get the message and walks up to the window, taking in the view. Or whatever has to pass for it.

“Now what have we got here?” Eddie walks up to Vickie, stands in front of her with his hands on his hips. 

“I found it.” She smiles up at him, still sitting on the chair, and it’s all dorky and stupidly quirky. Perfect for Robin. “It’s real wood. Perfect condition, if you disregard the chipped paint. Robin told me you were moving in without any furniture. Thought you could use a chair.”

Steve moved towards their kitchenette, putting the contents of Robin’s bag away.

Robin promptly sets herself down on the edge of their mattress. “What are they gonna do with one chair?”

Vickie shrugs. “Rotate? Share? Aren’t they dati—” she stops mid-sentence. Steve turns slightly and quirks an eyebrow at Vickie’s sudden silence. Moves his gaze to Robin who unsuccessfully tries to look neutral. 

“We’re are.” Steve confirms after a moment, his eyes now firmly on Eddie. Eddie feels his breath catch, feels weirdly giddy all of the sudden, because this may be the first time Steve has given it any form of public acknowledgment—has actually put a name to it at all. Eddie nods, a little shaky, and Steve gives him a small smile, before returning to unpacking whatever Robin bought them.

Robin seems to finally breathe again, looking at Vickie with furrowed brows. Vickie mouths a quiet ‘Sorry’, but Eddie thinks it’s hardly necessary. He thinks Steve doesn’t seem to mind at all. May seem a little pleased even? Or perhaps that’s wishful thinking. 

They spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning and organizing what little stuff they own. Eddie finds out Robin brought them a French press, ground coffee, and two ridiculous mugs. One that says ‘the world’s best wife’ and another with a scantily clad babe. Steve promptly decides the ‘Wife’ mug is Eddie’s, and he laughs about it—so genuine and free Eddie dares to believe Steve will be okay. 

He’ll get the whole damn ‘Wife’-tableset if that’s what it takes to keep that smile on his face.

Vickie and Robin sit close, and Vickie plays with the rings on Robin’s fingers as they eat cheap Pizza while seated on the floor. When Vickie leaves for the bathroom, Steve asks her about it—if she finally reeled her in because they sure seemed cozy—but Robin just shrugs and tells them Vickie is just like that. That it doesn’t mean anything.

Eddie knows better by now, remembers thinking Steve was ‘ just like that ’ too. He tells her so, presses the words into her heart to make them stick. Whispers quickly for her to not wait forever, just as Vickie reemerges from the bathroom, and pulls back inconspicuously as Vickie sits down in her spot next to Robin. 

Too close. Way too close for it to be anything but intentional.

When the sun disappears behind the buildings outside, Eddie and Steve walk the girls to their bus stop. They say their goodbyes, this time knowing it won’t be for long.

Steve and Eddie walk back just as the streetlights come on. It’s never truly dark in Indianapolis. There’s always light and life somewhere, and Eddie thinks he loves it—might be just as in love with the city as he is with Steve, and it dawns on him, as they round another square corner, pass another green stoplight to cross the street, that this is the first day of their new life. 

The one they’re building together—from the ground up from scraps and junk. And it might not be perfect but it's theirs. 

He looks down at where their hands are moving alongside their bodies. Swinging with the beat of their steps. Maybe it is dark enough to risk it—to grab Steve’s hand and squeeze and hold him where others might see. 

A city where no one knows them. 

He doesn’t do it, but he drags his pinky across Steve’s. Feels the little spark that sets his nerves alight. Steve glances over, brushes back every now and then, and it feels like their secret. An open secret to a world that doesn’t know their names.

Eddie can’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Eddie knows he doesn’t have much in the way of being picky, but goddamnit if he works anything like construction ever again. 

While Steve is away at work, he roams the city, keeps his eyes peeled for ‘help wanted’ signs on windows. 

The other day. he tried a diner. Quickly learned that his looks aren’t exactly helping the whole job hunt, at least not in client-facing jobs. That is until he comes across a little corner of the city he hadn’t seen before. Tucked away like one of those alleyways where people disappear in horror movies, he finds a street that’s more to his taste. 

There’s a record shop there, with loud music pouring out of it even during the day. 

Eddie decides to give it a go. Walk in there, shake some hands—that’s what Wayne used to call it, anyway. Not literally, of course, because he doubts green mohawk guy would be very impressed by that. Instead, he strikes up a conversation about some of the music he likes, subtly drops his own involvement in music. Before he knows it, he’s actually talked himself into a job. It’s only three days a week, but it’s better than nothing. He even thinks he might be able to make up the rest of the money by playing guitar. Mohawke, or Logan as he’s called, suggests some places he can try and see if he can play at. Some bands that are a guitarist or singer short and in need of a session player. 

He resists the urge to get a few cassettes—reminds himself that food is definitely the priority here. It leaves him in an excellent mood anyway. He hadn’t considered session playing, but it makes sense, even when it doesn’t earn much. 

He hopes Steve won’t mind. 

On his way back to their apartment he finds a small broken cabinet on the side of the road. The drawers don’t close quite right and one of its legs is broken, lying uselessly next to its crooked body. He doesn’t know why but it calls to him. It doesn’t seem that broken. 

Something that can be fixed with just a little love. 

He’s sure he can do it—decides to take the cabinet home, and he understands what Vickie meant when she complained about carrying the chair. It might not be too heavy the first few blocks, but his arms are quickly starting to sour. He pushes on though. He won’t start work for two days anyway—might as well make himself useful.

That’s how Steve finds him when he arrives home for dinner. Eddie is elbow-deep inside the cabinet, fixing the rails that carry the drawers, working a screwdriver into one of the harder-to-reach parts.

“Eddie?”

Eddie jumps up, hitting his head on the inside of the cabinet. He pulls his head out and looks at Steve while he rubs the back of his head. Steve kicks off his shoes near the door, and he’s wearing his familiar green Family Video vest over a striped polo—the one he made Eddie wear after he threw him in the pool. Something about him is different though, despite the familiarity of his clothes.

Independence. 

It looks good on him, Eddie thinks. Everything does, really.

Everything except sadness.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie breathes. He stands up and dusts off his knees while he’s at it. He totally lost track of time. Wanted to have dinner ready for Steve by the time he got home. It’s only been a week and he’s already a bad roommate—wait, no, a bad boyfriend. 

Perhaps both. 

“Hello to you too.” Steve laughs. He makes his way over to where Eddie is currently having a crisis. His face is much more forgiving than Eddie deserves. 

“What you got there?” he asks, peering at Eddie’s project.

“Oh, eh. Found this during my job hunt. Figured we could use it.” Eddie gestures at the small wooden cabinet, its broken leg already fixed underneath. He did a pretty good job of that at least.

Good for something.

“You’re turning into Vickie.” Steve laughs and leans into Eddie, moving his hands over Eddie’s arms until his left hand settles itself over Eddie’s. He plucks the screwdriver from his grip and puts it on top of the cabinet. Eddie opens his mouth to respond but Steve cuts him off.

“You’re pretty good with tools, huh?”

Oh.  

Eddie recognizes that tone. 

“I mean, I did work construction.” He gives Steve a coy smile. Plays it up a little, and Steve’s smile grows bigger. He pushes himself a little more into Eddie’s space and presses a kiss against his pulse. Steve's hands slip around to Eddie’s lower back.

He shivers and brings his hands up to Steve’s upper arms. Holds him there, grip loose but warm.

“Fuck, Steve, what got you all worked up?” 

Eddie feels a little short of breath, his pulse quickening. It feels candid in a way, this intimacy in daylight—a luxury they haven't allowed themselves until now. He still feels it carved beneath his skin, the idea that what they’re doing is somehow forbidden, a secret shared between lips.Except there are no secrets. Not here, in the privacy of their own space. And it feels like a stage—Eddie a performer, playing for an eager audience of mismatched chairs and broken cabinets, the sun his spotlight, and Steve his dazzling co-star.

Steve hums against his neck, working his lips up and nips at Eddie’s jaw. “Life,” Steve mumbles. Eddie is quickly losing all control of his thoughts and Steve’s sudden cryptic words are going straight over his head. 

“Life?” Eddie echoes.

“Life,” Steve confirms, moving higher, lips ghosting over skin until Eddie can feel his heat over his lips. Not quite touching. Not yet.

“What is that supposed to mean—” Steve cuts him off with a kiss. It’s slow like a dance, deep like a promise, and Eddie thinks he suddenly gets it. Life—like the first page of a book, an arrangement of letters assembled into something new and unexplored. 

Eddie allows himself to be kissed—lets Steve’s lips move over his own with all the leisure and time they can afford. He runs his hands over Steve’s back, fingers clinging to the thin green cotton of the Family Video vest, and feels the muscles of Steve’s back shift as he moves his hands to play with the bottom of Eddie’s tank top—skin on skin as his fingers dip beneath it and trace just above his jeans. 

Steve walks him back until Eddie feels the soft give of the thin mattress under his feet. Then without a warning, Steve hooks his ankle around Eddie’s and grabs hold of the edge of his jeans. His leg pulls hard and in the next second, Eddie feels himself fall back on the mattress, impact softened only by Steve’s guiding grip on his waistband.

Still, Eddie winces. He can feel the impact of the floor through the thin mattress. Before he has time to dwell on that, however, Steve is on top of him, his legs on Eddie’s arms and his ass planted firmly on his chest.

Eddie wiggles a little, but his arms are stuck underneath Steve’s weight. “T-that’s an illegal move,” Eddie breathes.

Steve is grinning down on him. And god, Eddie’s already half-hard, solely by Steve straddling his chest—not even his fucking hips. He feels like a blushing virgin, which to some extent, maybe he is, because he’s never gone like, all the way. But who can blame him? It’s been some time since they messed around. Steve hasn’t been in the mood and Eddie never pushed it. The past few days though, he was certainly starting to feel a little frustrated.

Today would mark week two of Steve leaving his parents and week one of living on their own. The distance is doing Steve well. Out of sight, out of mind. It’s the best Eddie can hope for. That and maybe for Steve to do something, because Eddie is growing increasingly restless. Or horny, if we’re being crude.

Eddie tries kicking his feet. Tries if he can flip them over, but Steve is humiliatingly steady. He laughs at Eddie’s attempts to break free.

After a few seconds, he seems to take pity and moves back a little until he’s straddling Eddie’s hips. He releases Eddie’s arms, but before he can do anything with them, Steve captures his wrists and moves his hands above his head. 

Eddie lets out a frustrated groan. “I get it. I get it. You’re stronger. Are you gonna fuck me or what?”

Steve’s eyes widen, but only slightly. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you’ll ask nicely.” Steve gives a demonstrative roll of his hips and yes, Steve is definitely just as hard as he is. Eddie bites back a moan.

“Like you don’t want to.” It comes out a little more breathy than he intended. Steve regards him with dark eyes, readjusts his grip on Eddie’s wrists and leans over.

He ghosts his lips over the side of Eddie’s face, up his neck and to his ears, hot breath sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. “I have excellent self-control,” Steve whispers.   

Eddie swallows hard, tries to keep his hips from bucking as he feels the pleasant tightness of Steve’s hands on his wrists. Steve switches his grip so he holds both of his wrists in one hand, He runs his now free hand down Eddie’s side until he finds the bottom of his shirt. Skin seeking skin. His hands are cold and Eddie hisses. His arms are straining against Steve’s hold and hips pushing against Steve’s. 

Fuck, he’s so done for. His erection is straining against the his denim shorts and Eddie curses himself for the thick fabric—wishes he’d gone with khaki’s instead. 

He’s begging for friction. Begging for anything really. 

Steve would like that. Having Eddie plead beneath him, and Eddie is feeling defiant despite his own hunger. He’ll hold out a little longer, see how far Steve will push him.

Steve pushes his tank top up until it’s bunched up under his armpits, revealing skin and ink. He traces it, thumb brushing the nipple just underneath the skull tattoo. Eddie lets out a choked moan. He can’t help it. He feels his face grow a little hot and his dick twitch in its confinements. 

Steve smiles down at his hands, alternating between tracing the inked skin and abusing the bud of his nipple.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie chokes, “if you don’t touch me right fucking now, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

“I am touching you.” Steve grins. He shifts his weight, erections brushing and hands splayed out over his chest. Eddie throws his head back with a pathetic yelp. “And we don’t have a couch.”

“I hate you so much.”

Steve leans forward then, hand moving underneath Eddie’s jaw. “You love me,” he whispers against his lips. And Steve’s right. He’s so fucking right.

“I love you,” Eddie whispers back, lifting his head just a little to feel the brush of Steve’s lips. 

“Again.” 

“I love you, Steve. Fuck. I love you so fucking much.”

Steve leans down, captures his lips in a kiss that is far too gentle, far too kind. Eddie drinks it in, moves his lips against Steve’s with hunger. 

“You love me.” Steve mouths the words against Eddie’s lips as he rolls his hips, drinks in the sounds that escape him as he absorbs the words, “and I love you.”

Steve releases his hands then and Eddie wastes no time. He wraps them around Steve, pulls at his shirt until they can't do anything but break apart to remove the offending fabric and throw it in whatever direction. 

Eddie’s lips are back on Steve’s in an instant. It’s hot and wet and hurried, and their hands are scrambling for buttons and flies until their shorts are gone too. Until they are skin to skin, Steve’s weight settled between his legs. Until he feels Steve’s dick slide hot and wet alongside his own and pleasure coursing through his veins. 

It’s not enough. 

Nowhere near enough.

Too much distance.

Steve feels it too. 

“Closer.” Eddie mouths the words against Steve’s neck and it sounds like a plea. Steve seems to get it instinctively as he reaches beneath the mattress and pulls out a bottle of lube.

“You sure?” Steve pulls back a little and looks at Eddie. His cheeks are flushed, all the way down to his chest, and he’s breathing hard. 

He’s beautiful like this. 

Eddie drinks it in. Adds this Steve to his collection, and it may be his best one yet. Panting and messy hair. The afternoon sun peeking through the gaps of their newspaper-covered windows. It hits his eyes just right, and they look like gold, like liquid fire. 

Like the sun. 

Eddie doesn’t know what he did to deserve Steve, who kisses him like he’s precious and slicks him up with gentle hands and strokes his cock all at the same time.

It doesn’t hurt when Steve works him open with a finger. He moves slow and deliberate, eyes not leaving Eddie’s. 

“Is this alright?” he asks once he’s all the way in, but Eddie doesn’t think he can form any coherent sentence anymore. He just nods, a little eager perhaps, and he would feel ashamed of that if he didn’t currently have Steve’s finger up his ass. Shame be damned.

Steve nods in response and moves again, a little faster than he did before, and after a while, it starts to feel good. Steve fucks a slick finger in and out, stroking his dick in tandem and Eddie can only gasp against Steve’s mouth, his brain is quickly becoming the most useless part of his body.

“You good?” Steve asks him again, and Eddie gives him a nod. 

“You can add another,” he pants. 

Steve moves his finger out until just the tip remains and Eddie fights the urge to push back. Steve adds more lube and then presses back in, this time with two fingers. He is feeling the stretch now, feels the burn mix with pleasure as Steve shallowly pumps his fingers in and out. Eddie reaches for Steve’s upper arm. Gives it a gentle squeeze. 

He doesn’t need to say it. 

Steve ups his tempo, fucks him deeper and faster, curls his fingers until—

“Oh fuck.” He feels his body arch off the bed. Pleasure ripping through him like a current. Above him, Steve’s eyes grow wide. 

“Good?”

“Ugh, good. I—I don’t know what you just did,” he starts, and takes a shuddery breath, “do that again. Please?”

Steve nods, a little breathless, and tries to do it again, aims his fingers, curls them just right and hits it again. A moan escapes him. 

“F-fuck. If you keep that up…”

Steve doesn’t say anything, instead, he adds a third finger, opens him wider. It burns good when Steve fucks him open, precome making his dick slippery and wet where Steve pumps it. 

“I want you.” Eddie claws at Steve’s back, drawing red streaks across his skin. Marking him. 

Mine.

Steve pulls out and Eddie feels strangely hollow while he watches Steve slick himself up. A moment later, Steve is back on him, mouth wet and sloppy as he kisses him deep. Eddie hardly notices Steve lining them up until he feels him push in, slow and gentle. 

His breath catches at the feeling, but Steve guides him through it. Swallowing every whimper, licking away each quiet moan. Petting his hair, his jaw, his neck as he works himself deeper until Steve bottoms out. 

Eddie feels a wetness down his temple. He didn’t even notice the tears, and he isn’t sure how or why. Steve pulls away slightly, a thumb wiping under his eyes, and Eddie feels like his heart is ready to burst.

He feels so full—so whole. 

And it’s like nothing exists, nothing matters, but the two of them. Caught in each other's orbit. Steve the sun and Eddie his moon, reflecting his light back at him. 

How did he live before Steve? How could he ever again?

And then Steve moves, slow at first, chest to chest, Eddie’s dick trapped between them. and Steve holds him by the back of his neck as they move together. It feels so intimate that Eddie feels the tears arise anew. Feels them run hot along his skin until Steve kisses them away. Until the movements of his lips grow sloppy and his tempo more insistent, and Eddie can do nothing but move with it. Move against it and breathes hard, sounds escaping him with every thrust. 

It's the closest two people have ever been. It must be.

Steve pushes himself up, tempo only temporarily wavering. One hand finds Eddie’s and he interweaves their fingers. The other grabs for Eddie’s cock, stroking it messily in tune with his thrusts.

He’s not gonna last.

He’s so close.

He can’t even say it. Can’t form a coherent thought as Steve pushes him over the edge. It hits him like lightning and courses through him much the same as he paints Steve’s hand in come. Steve leans over, stealing away any whimper, any cry escaping Eddie’s lips. He works him through it, hands pumping until Eddie has nothing left to give. Steve’s hips snap at a punishing rate, and Eddie can feel it then, feels Steve clench up, his cock twitching, as he comes inside. 

After a last few lazy pumps, Steve collapses on top of him. Doesn’t seem to care he’s lying in their mess, and Eddie doesn’t either. He draws lazy circles on Steve’s back. He can still feel the hammering of his heart and the heaving of his chest. 

When Steve pulls out he feels strangely empty. Steve leans in to steal another lingering kiss,

“I love you, Eddie.” Steve smiles against his lips. He pulls back and makes his way to the door of their small bathroom. He returns a little later, a wet towel in hand.

It’s warm and it makes Eddie shiver as Steve cleans him up with gentle hands. He closes his eyes as Steve settles next to him again and holds him. Turns when Steve’s breathing evens out and buries his face in Steve’s chest.

Eddie wonders when he will wake up because surely he must be dreaming.

The city never sleeps.

Eddie learned that their first night when the perpetual sound of wheels on asphalt and the blaring of sirens kept him awake. Eddie is used to noise at night. The trailer park is never truly quiet, with plenty of people living around the clock. Over the years, he has become adept at tuning out the sound of voices or barking dogs.

The city is a different beast. 

He never realized how foreign the city could sound to his small-town ears. Steve seems unbothered, deaf to the world the moment his head hits a pillow. Eddie shouldn’t be surprised. They’ve been sleeping side by side for months now, and in that time he learned Steve sleeps like a fucking rock. 

Eddie leans over to Steve and looks at the alarm clock that sits on the ground next to his head. The red lights indicate 04:22 and Eddie realizes it’s still early. 

Too early to get up. 

He lays himself back down again, shuffles a little closer to Steve’s back, and drapes his arm over him. His hand slots over Steve’s heart like a puzzle piece, fingers buried in the soft hair he finds there, and his heat settles into his bones. Eddie wills his eyes shut again and allows himself to feel it. 

His knees settle against the soft flesh of Steve’s upper thighs and his chest is flush against his back. He can feel the gentle beating of Steve’s heart settle into himself and it sounds like a melody, one Eddie knows well by now. If he concentrates hard enough, he is sure he can synchronize them, merge their bodies, and make them stay like that forever. 

Not even death could part them then.

“Oh my god!”

Eddie is glad they don’t have a bedframe yet, because within two seconds he is lying next to their mattress in a heap of bedding and his heart hammering out of his chest. 

He looks up to the source of the noise. He stares at Robin's hunched back. Her hands are covering her face as she mumbles rapidly, face turned.

Eddie can’t make out the words, but he doesn’t have to get the picture.

His and Steve’s clothes are scattered around the room, and in his less-than-graceful tumble from the mattress, Eddie had taken the bedding with him, leaving Steve’s plump and hairy buttcheeks on full display for the resident lesbian.

“Oh.” 

When Eddie feels like he has finally regained some control over his body again, he moves. Keeping the covers firmly on himself, he grabs his underwear and shirt from the floor. 

“I’m so, so, so sorry!” Robin rambles. Her back moves with her words,

Eddie quickly pulls the tank top over his head, starts the quest for his shorts, doesn’t spot them, and decides Steve’s are just as good.

Robin still has her back turned. 

“I called and no one answered, and then I knocked, and I kinda started to think you guys may have died from like, carbon monoxide poisoning or something, so I used the spare key—” Robin trails off.

“I may have ignored the phone,” Eddie says apologetically as he closes his belt. He turns back to Steve and throws the bedding to cover his ass. Actually, on a second thought, he covers Steve’s back too. There is no reasonable explanation for the red lines on there. 

“So it’s your own fault then! I don’t think I can scrub this image off my brain…”

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“We’re eh, modest I guess.” He looks back at Steve, who has somehow slept through all the commotion. To be safe, he gathers some clothes and lays them next to Steve’s head. 

Just a little precaution.

“Want some tea?” he asks Robin. She has taken a seat on the red chair and seems deeply invested in a blank spot on the wall.

Reluctantly, Robin turns her head. Once she sees the coast is in fact clear, her posture relaxes a little. “I would like that.”

Eddie nods, grabs two mugs—specifically the ‘Wife’ mug, which earns him a small approving smile from Robin—and warms some water in the microwave.

“What brings you here at this ridiculous hour anyway?”

“For your information, it’s 9:20. You know, like the middle of the day for normal people.”

“It’s Steve’s day off. Don’t expect him alive until at least another hour.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Hasn’t changed a bit.” She smiles, and there’s relief in her voice. 

The microwave beeps and Eddie looks over to Steve. He doesn’t even stir. He hands Robin her tea and suggests they head up to the roof. Even if Steve sleeps through their talking, it would be nice to give him some privacy to get dressed eventually. 

“By the way, why is there a cabinet in the middle of the room?” Robin asks as they head out. 

“Why don’t you ask Steve?” Eddie smiles mischievously at her, and Robin pulls a face. 

“Forget I asked.”

They climb the stairs to the roof. Indianapolis doesn’t have a lot of highrises, especially not outside the city center. The low-hanging sun warms their skin as they sit with their back against the brick building encasing the stairs. The air is still a little cold and humid. Eddie sees steam rise from their mugs.

“So, Buckley, to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence this morning?”

Immediately, Robin’s demeanor shifts. She becomes a little more tense and a blush rises to her cheeks. She’s like an open book. He doesn’t need much imagination to guess what this is all about.

“So,” she starts, pauses a little as she runs her fingers over the ceramic surface of her mug, “let’s start with me saying sorry for ever calling you an idiot.”

“When did you call me an idiot?” Eddie stares at Robin. In the warm morning light, her blue eyes look almost gray.

Robin laughs nervously. “Mostly to Steve.”

Eddie is about to open his mouth but Robin cuts him off. “You were! Both of you. God, it was so painful to watch.” Her movements are fidgety and nervous.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Get on with it.”

“God, fine. You…you’ll never believe this.” Eddie eyes her curiously, studies her face as her freckles slowly blend in just a little more with the flush on her cheeks. “Vickie and I have been dating for a month?” Her pitch increases the more she nears the end of that sentence.

Wait.

“A month! And you didn’t tell us—”

Robin cuts him off. “I didn’t know okay?! This morning, I was washing up and she walks up to me, wraps her arms around my waist and says ‘happy anniversary’. So I turned around—oh god, Eddie, we were standing so close I could kiss her—and I’m like…’anniversary?’” Robin takes a much needed breath, “and she’s like, ‘yeah?’ and basically what it comes down to is we’ve been dating for a month and she thought I was taking it slow, and I can’t believe I’m such an idiot.” Robin sets her tea on the ground and buries her face in her hands.

Eddie lays a hand on her shoulder and feels her shake slightly. He gives her a gentle squeeze but can’t fight the grin on his face. This is just so Robin, isn’t it?

Robin lifts her head slightly and gives Eddie a small glance. “Are you laughing?”

“No,” Eddie says, doing nothing to hide his grin.

“You so are! Oh my god, how dare you take pleasure in my misery.” She gives Eddie a playful shove, and Eddie can’t help himself. He laughs loudly. Robin tries to feign offense, but she can only keep it up for so long. 

“We’re such idiots.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“That statement includes you, Munson. Don’t you dare.”

She holds out her pinky to him and Eddie stares at it, dumbfounded. Robin nods towards it and Eddie gets it, hooks his pinky around hers as he looks her in the eyes.

“Partners in idiocy,” she states, her face dead serious.

When Eddie remains silent she squeezes his pinky tighter. “Say it.”

“Fine, partners in idiocy.” Eddie laughs, “We should probably get Steve in on this. Maybe Vickie too while we’re at it.”

“Probably.” Robin grins and drops their hands.

They finish their tea in silence while the sun rises a little higher and the air grows warmer.

“Are you used to it yet?” he asks Robin after putting down his empty mug. He stares into the distance where he can see the outline of tall buildings against the blue sky. 

She shakes her head. “It will never be like Hawkins. But with you guys here, I don’t know, it feels like it doesn’t have to be.”

“Like ‘Home isn’t a place’ kinda deal?”

“Exactly that.” She smiles. “We’ll get used to it eventually.”

Eddie thinks she’s right. It’s like a performance—the stage may change, but the actors are the same. As long as there’s Steve and him, and friends to love, it doesn’t matter where they go.

Like she reads his mind, Robin reaches for his pinky, hooks it with her own again and gives Eddie a little smile.

Chapter Text

Happiness feels so tangible, Eddie thinks it may run through his veins—bound to blood and carried like oxygen—that if you cut him open it would bleed from his skin until there’s nothing left to give.

The days are rich with the novelty of it all. Time seems to move slow when each day is so seemingly important; important enough to catalog them away as memories. 

Something for when they’re old and gray to reminisce about.

Habits build and grow and the realization often hits him in the quiet moments. He wakes up to the smell of coffee that tastes better every day as Steve learns the best way to work a french press. And the little cabinet Eddie fixed, now painted forest green, becomes a catch-all for keys and coins and little treasures of the city.

Eventually, even their newspaper-covered windows are exchanged for actual curtains that filter the light and wake them up at dawn.

Life is good and stable. Balanced in a way that’s unfamiliar yet so very welcome.

Eddie enjoys his job at the record shop. Granted, it’s still a job. It has its ups and down. Annoying customers, and some coworkers he can’t stand, but for the most part it's good. The pay is modest, and they’re not living comfortably by any means, but it covers the bills. 

It's enough. 

Enough is good.

He likes being a session player, and it’s his favorite, albeit worst paid job. His bandmates felt betrayed when Eddie told them. Gareth protesting loudest, but it’s just for money. He’s not joining any of those bands for real, just fills in whenever they need a guitarist. 

Gareth called him a guitar whore.

Whatever. 

After six years, Eddie is used to Gareth’s sense of humor (or lack thereof). Besides, the different bands are fun. He likes the variation in styles it brings, the different energies. 

If that makes him a guitar whore, so be it.

He’s out playing at least one night a week, and when he does, Steve often tags along. He watches from the side-lines, covered in the darkness of an overcrowded bar. And Eddie likes looking at him when he plays. Steve as his muse, pushing him to play the best he can, fingers finding snares like they’re skin, playing them with a finesse only reserved for music or sex. 

Those nights—when the backgrounds shift and venues and bands start to blur into one—Steve remains a constant. Like the gravitational pull of the sun, Eddie can’t help but remain in orbit. To know that, as long as there’s sunlight, life will find a way.

Always there. 

As Eddie knows he will always be for him.

When they’re not out, they spend their nights at home. Cooking, cleaning, and fucking without anyone to stop them. They’re filled with so much love that it feels like it’s the only way to get it out. And Eddie loves the discovery of it, loves finding the tunes of their bodies, each new sound a symphony. The anonymity of the city makes him bold and brave; makes him dare to love Steve loud and hard, to live just on the edge of discovery because the walls are thin and the floors creak.

A studio isn’t so different from a trailer. 

Home is still small, and he can’t have much stuff. He still does his laundry at the laundromat, and sleeps with the lingering smell of that night's dinner. The only thing that changed is that he’s now sharing his space. He can’t just put whatever on the walls, because Steve doesn’t like looking at skulls first thing in the morning.

It’s a small concession.

With times passing, the studio fills up with street-side furniture and gifts from friends. 

Uncle Wayne visits once. He quirks an eyebrow at the single bed, but doesn’t comment on it. Eddie thinks he knows— of course he does —he’s never been able to keep secrets from the man. But Wayne doesn’t seem to care. When he leaves, he rests a hand on Steve’s shoulder and speaks quietly, something Eddie can’t quite hear.  And that was that, but to Eddie, Wayne may as well have given Steve his blessings. 

He sees Wayne every week. 

On Sundays, Eddie drives to Hawkins for band practice. It’s a bit of a drag, but until the festival, it’s something he has to do. 

Sometimes Steve tags along and hangs around to watch them play. Other times he goes off to see Dustin. Eddie usually joins them after he’s done, or if Steve’s not with him he will visit alone, play a quick game with the kids. 

He always ends the day at Wayne’s—with or without Steve—and they have dinner together, catch up on the happenings of the week. Wayne likes Steve, ironically thinks he straightened Eddie out. 

Maybe he did, in a way. 

It's a peace he hasn’t known before.

Stability is a world that has always been so volatile, so cruel to him.

A warmth on his side, fingers intertwined, and eyes staring towards the future with hope rather than dread. It runs through him, thick and slow, and reminds him that this family of choice is infinitely more valuable than blood could ever be.

Steve never visits his parents.

The drives back to Indianapolis are filled with heavy silence, a hard crash after a good high that leaves one too weak to even stand. 

The contrast hits Steve hard every time, but the recovery gets easier. The next day, he’s back to his old self. 

Back to carefree smiles and easy touches.

He goes to work without complaints and every few nights, they have dinner with Robin and Vickie, whose rooms now proudly display the pictures Eddie took with the disposable camera.

Some feature the kids, huddled together, pulling stupid faces and more occupied with annoying one another than the camera. There are some too with Steve’s and Eddie’s faces, half cut off because taking pictures of yourself is hard. Those are the secret photos, the ones he took back in Hawkins.

There are pictures too that he snuck when Robin wasn’t paying attention. Of her and Steve messing around while loading the van. 

A few or her and Vickie together, moving furniture around the day they moved in, back when the girls were already dating without Robin’s knowledge.

There was another picture, too.

One where Eddie plants a fat kiss on Steve’s cheek. It’s the only one where Eddie and Steve are fully in frame, and Robin gave that one back. 

Eddie keeps it safely tucked away in one of his notebooks. He doesn’t quite dare to display it in their apartment. 

Not yet. 

The days pass and pass and before he knows it, leaves are trading green for red and t-shirts are exchanged for sweaters to keep out the morning chill. It feels like they’re growing into their own skin, becoming more fully who they are. Steve’s bad days are less and less frequent until they’re hardly there at all. 

When the week the festival approaches, Eddie takes off from work. 

He stays in Hawkins and sleeps in Wayne’s living room. Since Eddie moved out, Wayne reclaimed the bedroom, and Eddie never truly appreciated the extend of the sacrifices Wayne made to accommodate him. The foldout bed is creaky and the springs dig into his back. Besides that, sleeping in the living room is strangely eerie. It’s filled with unfamiliar shadows, and blinking red lights from appliances that annoy him and remain hauntingly present, even with his eyes closed.

If that wasn’t reason enough to lay awake, this week marks the longest he’s been without Steve since months. 

He wasn’t aware how quickly Steve’s heat became a comfort, how he would miss the gentle dip of Steve’s weight by his side. How fast Steve became an extension of himself and moving around without him feels like he’s missing a limb.

They call every night, an hour at least. 

Eddie’s glad Wayne’s off at work by that time, because he probably wouldn’t hear the end of it, how much of a sap he’s become. Eddie doesn’t mind though. He’ll gladly be a sap for Steve. Call him every stupid pet name in the book and tell him he loves him and how much even when words don’t quite do it justice; say it again and again, until Steve can hear it echo in his dreams. 

Fuck, he’s so gone for him. 

The festival is bigger than anticipated.

It’s outdoor, on a big field with two stages inside big tents so bands can play at intervals, allowing time for set-up while the other plays. 

It’s warm for autumn, surprisingly sunny and the world is bathed in gold and orange. 

Eddie appreciates it. 

He likes autumn best of all, when the oppressive heat of summer makes way for a slight chill. A time where the gentle warmth of a brave sun remains, but loses its bite.

Rain persistently refused to show and the grass is a patchwork of green and yellow, dried and crisp. 

The grounds are bordered by movable metal fences that Eddie’s climbed a fair share of in his life, sneaking into gigs when ticket prices were too steep and drug sales were down.

He’s on the other side of it now, performer instead of audience. Invited.

It’s crazy.

They play at 8 PM. It’s near ideal. No dinner performance for one, and people will have some alcohol in their system. A worked-up crowd, easily pleased and ready for whatever they’ll throw at them.

In the week approaching the festival, tensions rose in the band. It’s nothing too bad, but the guys are a little more worked up than they would be otherwise. And it’s nerves, Eddie knows that. Nerves, and the fact they’ve seen each other every waking moment for a week straight. 

Practicing from dawn ‘til dusk, fingers raw and heads aching from drinking too little.

The guys have taken up the habit of calling him cityboy, asking him all kinds of questions about life in Indy— life with King Steve. 

They’re making fun of him, but it’s all in good spirit. 

Eddie gets the feeling they’re catching on though. The details aren’t adding up, and Eddie can’t keep his story straight ( hah). He’s pretty sure Jeff is more than halfway there, more than Gareth at least, who just seems to find it all very odd. And Gareth’s not afraid to voice it either. Asking Eddie all kinds of questions that require leaps of logic that not even he would accept point blank. 

Only Freak seems to be blissfully unaware. 

With their performance creeping closer, Eddie is feeling antsy. The venue opened two hours ago and people are dripping inside. In the distance, he hears the muted sound of another band playing. Around them, crew members are moving things, equipment and the like. It’s organized chaos.

Eddie tunes his guitar for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Steve will be here any moment and he swears time has slowed down. It’s giddy anticipation for what will be their biggest performance yet mixed with the sheer excitement of seeing his boyfriend again. 

Just thinking it feels like a thrill, bordering on forbidden. And perhaps it should be forbidden to feel this happy when so many people are just living, unfamiliar with what it means to be deliriously happy.

Eddie is still standing there, backstage, with his guitar in his hands, when Steve shows up, escorted by a staff member. He feels his breath catch in his throat. 

Regardless of his friends’ suspicions, Eddie feels like he can’t help himself; can’t fight the affection off his face. They haven’t seen each other in a week, but it might as well have been a lifetime. 

Steve stops in his tracks. 

He just kinda stands there and Eddie can see his brain working, the gentle furrow of a brow. 

Steve is thinking of what’s appropriate, here with his bandmates and sound techs and who knows what else walking around. 

It would be easy to toss it aside, to let the world fall away and indulge himself. Let himself have this before he exposes himself to an audience of eager ears. 

Eddie thinks he might actually do it.

He sets his guitar down, and his fingers are hungry for skin and lips starved for touch. It’s only when his eyes meet Steve’s that his better judgment takes hold. 

They can’t.

He won’t. 

Not here. 

The little wave he shoots Steve feels anticlimactic and not unlike the way the other guys greet him. It’s friendly. Not something he’d ever thought possible were he still in High school. A casual familiarity that built itself over time with Steve attending their rehearsals. The Groupie Couch reserved for Steve.

He shoots Steve a smile, as gentle as he dares.

It’s not enough, but it will have to do.

Steve makes his way over, looking no different from how he did a week ago. Floppy brown hair and deep auburn eyes, the kind that catches the sun and burns like fire. 

Looking at Steve feels like muscle memory, and he can imagine every dip, every curve with the clarity of experience.

“The kids are just outside.” Steve points a thumb over his shoulder. “Security wouldn’t let them back here.”

They’re right back into their spiel. 

Friendly and casual.  

A front of normalcy. 

Just two regular guys, sharing rent in the city, living together out of necessity, not desire. Two regular dudes who sleep in the same bed and fuck each other until their legs give out.

Just normal guy stuff.

“Convinced the parents, huh?”

Steve smiles sweetly, a little more affectionately then their conversation ought to spark. “Wasn’t easy,” he says, “Ms. Henderson and the Sinclair’s put up a good fight. Dustin, however, is surprisingly convincing. He’d make one hell of a politician.”

“Don’t give him ideas.” Eddie winces theatrically and Steve laughs in a way that makes his heart flutter.

“Shit’s pretty wild out there. Better keep a good eye on ‘em.” Gareth cuts in. He carries his drumsticks in one hand, rolling them between his fingers in a way that betrays his nerves.

They talk a little more, and it’s all mundane and simple, skirting around the big performance like an open wound, but instead speaking of Hawkins and the little things that move small towns. 

After a while, Steve excuses himself under the guise that those kids are definitely not to be trusted alone at a place that serves alcohol and probably has a good number of drugs circulating.

With Steve leaving, it’s back to nervous anticipation until they’re ready for sound check. 

There’s a few people already gathered inside the tent as they play parts of their song for the sound tech. 

The tent smells earthy and sweet like weed, acrid like sweat. At this moment, Eddie could definitely use the former.

They retreat backstage as the sound of cheering erupts distantly from the other tent. Eddie feels his heart rate pick up as it always does before the moment supreme. He plays with his rings, turning them around and around in an effort to calm himself.

“Good luck boys.”

Eddie looks up and sees that guy, the talent scout. Thomas?

He’s dressed to stand out. A sleek suit where all other patrons are dressed in defiance, black leather and violence. It’s an offensive lack of skin and hair that’s too sleek.

Thomas smiles and says, “I’ll be watching from the side. Break a leg.” And then he winks, walks to the side of the stage as the MC announces the next act as ‘a fresh face in trash metal, Corroded Coffin!’.

And that’s their cue.

It’s happening.

The crowd lets out an anticipatory cheer and Eddie forces his feet to move, but it’s like they won’t work.Jeff gently pushes him forward. 

It shakes him out of it. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, remembers that it's all an act and he is but a character in this play. 

The confident rockstar.

Cocky, bigger than life.

Eddie runs out on the stage and the crowd erupts into cheers. They yell and whistle, but Eddie can’t see them. The lights are too bright and it feels hot on his skin, burns like he’s exposed to a direct sun on a summer’s day. It’s like he’s staring at the headlights of an oncoming truck, sound and heat and smell overwhelming him with the sheer knowledge of a crowd that is there but barely visible. 

Like he’s waiting for the moment it will inevitably hit. 

His hands are sweaty and his heart is pounding out of his chest.

It’s fine. Breathe.

He can do this.

He can fake it.

They don’t have a crazy Ozzy entrance, full of theatrics and flames, but it doesn’t matter. All they need is good music and crowd that’s just a little buzzed.

He swings his guitar from his back and it lands heavy against his chest as he grabs the mic. He yells into the crowd and it seems like whatever he says, they yell back with just as much enthusiasm. He looks back briefly, his bandmates nodding and that’s that. 

Suddenly it’s an explosion of sound.

The transition is so smooth Eddie can hardly pinpoint when he starts. The music makes it easy, pulls him along like a puppet on strings. 

It’s different from session playing, solely due to the fact that this is their music. They’ve written it and Eddie knows it inside out. He doesn’t need to think about lyrics or where to place his fingers. The first song lasts a good three minutes, but it feels like seconds. 

The guys are on fire, hitting every beat, and Eddie feels the words flow from his lips like water. He’s panting after the first song, and it’s release rather than nerves. Like his body is finally adjusting to its new role as entertainer for a crowd that’s bigger and more engaged than they’ve ever witnessed before. 

With his eyes adjusting to the brightness of the colored lights, he can finally scan the crowd as he speaks to them, tells them about the next song while he catches his breath. 

He’s already started on their next song when his eyes finally find them. All of them. So many more than he expected. There’s Steve, of course, and Robin and Vickie and the kids, but to his surprise he also sees Nancy’s curly head, accompanied by Jonathan who seems really into it. 

A smile creeps on his face. It creeps in his voice and he can hear it through his earplugs. From his side, Jeff shoots him a little glance, subtle but there. Maybe he shouldn’t be smiling when he sings of the devil and death, but he can’t help it. 

How can he sing of evil when the crowd is so filled with love. 

It unearths something in him. The last of his inhibitions fading like the last of daylight just outside the borders of the tent. 

His fingers dance over snares, and Jeff gets all up close, voice joining in the chorus, shared breath in front of a microphone. It’s hard to focus on the individuality of a crowd that feels so much like an entity, a beast tamed solely by the magic from their fingers and voices. 

People cheer and beer goes flying. A tiny mosh pit forms near the front.

Time passes in a haze. 

Eddie doesn’t believe in all that sci-fi shit, in hologram movies and hoverboards, but right now he definitely believes in time-travel, because there is no way forty minutes passed in what felt like five. 

The crowd cheers loud and wild, and Eddie can see his friends move with it like it’s the ocean and they’re drifting on the waves. He smiles when he catches Steve’s eyes, and it’s only a second, only a pull of the corner of his mouth, because he’s on stage.

Eddie the Singer.

The tent is fucking hot, 

It’s a waste really, the beer that rains down on the crowd, because Eddie could definitely use some.

He’s drenched in sweat, even after he loses his shirt and tosses it into the mass of people. It’s a nice shirt too, kinda regrets his impulsive nature, but the crowd goes wild for it. 

Goes wild for them. 

When they eventually make their way off stage, followed by loud cheering, Gareth slaps a hand on the skin of his sweaty back and tells him it was cool regardless. 

It’s a high. 

Better than anything drugs could do, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of seeing fucking Thomas with his stupid slick hair walking up to them, all smiles with too white teeth, who tells them they should come to the recording studio to talk business.

They’re shrieking. 

Fucking shrieking like they didn’t just play a rough fucking metal show. They can’t fake coolness now. Character broken. 

It doesn’t matter.

Not even sleek Thomas seems to mind their uncharacteristic enthusiasm. He’s all smiles until Jeff gathers himself enough to take the note with the address and time that Thomas writes them. 

And then he’s gone. Off to the next show, ready to make some other musicians either very happy or devastated. 

“I can’t believe it,” Gareth says, still slightly out of breath. His hair lays a little flat and his exposed arms shine with a layer of cooling sweat. 

They’re disgusting and tired and about to be fucking signed. 

“We should drink to this.” Eddie breathes back. His voice sounds a little rough and he feels it sharp in his throat. 

He embraces the feeling. It feels like a grounding force. Something that tells him he definitely isn’t dreaming. And there’ll be a lot more of that in their future if they get their record deal. More pain, more highs.

A fucking record deal.

He can’t wait to tell Steve. To see Dustin’s face. 

But first, packing up. 

It’s the part he usually dislikes, but at a festival it’s even worse, all hurried and hectic. Their instruments get loaded off stage and they immediately have to get working on packing it all up. Crew members help them make swift work of it, loading it into Eddie’s van with an efficiency he’s rarely seen before. After that’s all done, they finally have some downtime. 

Eddie stops by his van and grabs a new shirt. 

The next band is already setting up while sound erupts from the second tent in the distance. It’s hectic and chaotic. Much more than Eddie ever anticipated. He wonders what it’s like for those big artists, his idols, big names like Ozzy and Dickinson, for whom there isn’t as much of a rush to clear the stage.

Perhaps, one day he’ll know. 

Perhaps. 

They make their way over to the artists’ tent. Eddie offers to get them some beers and balances four plastic cups decently well with two hands. He hands each their own and they cheer, beer spilling over eager hands. It’s hopeful, bordering on madness. A giddy kind of atmosphere that feels ample with opportunity. 

It feels like he’s standing on the edge of his dreams, one step away from reaching what he’s wanted for so long. 

Eddie takes a big swig of his beer, feels it slide down his abused throat and it tastes like the first ray of sunshine after lightning. Soothing relief after stunning violence. 

With tensions falling, he wishes for Steve. 

He spends a little more time with the guys, swimming in dreams that are too big and too deep for small town boys. 

He excuses himself once he downed a second beer, and the guys are fine with it. They have their own visitors in the audience. Gareth’s mom for one, who kissed his cheek backstage and promptly turned the guy tomato red. That was great.

He makes a small stop by the toilets, tries to fix his hair in the small mirror of the backstage festival toilet, but quickly gives up. There’s no saving it, and besides, Steve has seen him in worse shape. Sweaty. Exhausted. 

Ruined. 

He quickly ties it back, thinking that maybe it will help him move through the crowd a little smoother, without too many strangers recognizing him.

Not that he thinks they’ll beg for autographs and the like. He isn’t that cocky.

By now, darkness is settling over the festival grounds and bistro lights do a poor job of lighting the grounds.

He makes his way through the crowd, and fuck it ain’t easy finding his little fanclub because the festival is crowded and dark, much more than he appreciated from up on the stage. It seems like there’s people everywhere, and despite his little makeover, people do stop him. 

And yes, people ask for autographs. He can proudly state he has officially signed his first body part.

After some wandering around and a half-hearted break to get himself a beer to make his quest a little more bearable, he finally finds them. They’re sitting on the grass, listening to the music coming from Eddie’s previous stage.

Dustin spots him first and he flings himself at Eddie before he can say as much as ‘hi’.

Max scowls, always critical of Dustin, but it’s fine. Eddie doesn’t mind. Now that he’s outside,  cool air clinging to his skin and another beer in his system, he’s feeling a little recharged. 

The kids are all up in his face, but Dustin is by far the loudest. 

"You were so cool, man. The way you swung your guitar was sick!"

“It’s not that hard,” Mike cuts in. And that’s right, the guy plays guitar too, only recently picked up electric. Eddie ruffles his hair and Mike groans. 

“I’d like to see you try lil’ man.”

“I’m taller—”

Mike doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Dustin interrupts him with an exaggerated voice. “ Oh Eddie, you’re so cool with your guitar, I wanna be just like you.” Which earns him a shove from Mike.

“I don’t sound like that!”

“You kinda do,” El laughs and then Max joins in, and then they’re all against each other, joking at each other’s expense. Eddie shrugs, eyes meeting the others, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Vickie.

Steve.

“You were fantastic, man.” Jonathan slaps his back amiably, a kind of affection that comes easy to him. Nancy nods, but Eddie knows it’s not her scene, not her music. He appreciates her presence more for it.

Talking to Robin and Vickie has gotten familiar. They congratulate him, tell him he did well, how much they enjoyed the show. 

It’s easy. 

Like love comes easy these days, any kind of it.

When he finally finishes with the girls he turns to Steve. He looks coy, uncharacteristically so, and there’s a kind of tension. They both feel it and yet maddingly can’t act on it. 

Steve lays a hand on his arm, and it’s warm, the simplicity of it drives him crazy. 

There are no words, none are needed. It’s all shared looks and simple touch.

“Can we see your new home?” El interrupts them, looking at Steve.

Steve lets go of his arm and they both turn to face her. Her big brown eyes stare at them innocently, but they’re lethal weapons, really, because there is no way anyone’s willpower can survive their earnesty. 

“Tonight won’t do,” Eddie says, “I’m driving to Hawkins. Equipment to return.” He shrugs and El nods in quiet understanding..

“Another time?” she asks. The others are looking now, following along with their conversation.

“I want to visit too!” Dustin calls, and then it explodes. Heavy discussions on their apartment and what it looks like, and who has the bigger half, Eddie or Steve. About what the city is like and how it compares to Hawkins.

Eddie looks back at Steve, a little helplessly and El looks innocent, despite the fact she unleashed fucking armageddon on them. It’s a silent back and forth between the two of them, until Steve finally caves like Eddie knew he would. 

That man can’t refuse those kids a single thing.

“Yeah, yeah, you can come—” Steve sighs. He can’t finish his sentence, the kids already resuming their arguing. “But!” Steve interjects, this time more loudly, “First get your parents’ permission. I will not add kidnapping to my resume.”

“You already kidnapped us. Several times, technically speaking,” Mike, that sharp little terror, interjects.  

“And if anyone finds out, that will be the end of cool older friend privileges, capiche?” Eddie leans into Mike’s space, finger pointed in faux-intimidation. Mike laughs, pushes his finger down, but takes a step back regardless. 

“We’ll get permission,” Will adds, the sensible one. Eddie called it the first time he laid eyes on him. A much needed force to balance the band of rascals. Well, kinda anyway, lest he forgets the guy apparently was down to cheat a casino with El. 

It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?

Steve’s a nervous cleaner.

Eddie doesn’t think their apartment has ever looked quite as put together. And he’s been fussing, buying snacks and drinks, making sure the kids will have a good time after they pick them up in Hawkins.

They’ve discussed it at length, the single-bed problem. Whether the kids would notice or care. There’s no denying what it looks like. And despite calling them kids, they’re very much teenagers. High School students who have read the filth written inside the bathroom stalls of Hawkins High.

If they’re gonna do it, he might as well do it right.

Eddie grabs his notebook from underneath the mattress and pulls the picture out. Perhaps a single bed can be reasoned away with enough denial, but with the addition of the picture—the one where Eddie plants a wet one of Steve’s cheek—there’s no denying what it looks like.

He doesn’t have a picture frame, but it’s fine. Their apartment is a quilted blanket of mismatched stuff. A picture taped to the wall will hardly make it worse. 

He hangs it on the wall, just above their mattress, next to the picture of Corroded Coffin signing their record deal in Chicago. 

Not on display per se, but they’ll see. 

Curious little creatures. 

The drive to Hawkins feels longer than the way back, when the van is filled with rowdy teens, some in seats, others sprawled in the back, sitting on the hard metal flooring because they took the mattress out. It’s probably not safe and Steve drives a little more carefully than Eddie typically would. 

When they enter Indianapolis, the kids marvel at it. The tall buildings, taller than anything in Hawkins, glass that reflects the sun like mirrors. The sheer number of people on the streets and the fashion that seems strange to small towns. 

It’s great. Fantastic. Eddie loves watching their faces, experiencing their wonder like it is his own first time away from home. 

The walk up the stairs to the apartment is filled with curious comments. They don’t have buildings quite like this back there, the type with hallways full of doors and stairs that feel endless. 

When Steve opens the door to their apartment, the kids rush in. It’s a chorus of observations, of comments on its size and state. 

On the single bed.  

Eddie feels nervous, and it’s so stupid. It’s a bunch of teens and teens hate everything. He doesn’t care what they think.

He doesn’t.

He looks over to Steve, who seems to be similarly nervous as he closes the door behind him. 

And inevitably, the realization seems to catch on. First it’s Will, who’s eyes widen at the bed, the picture, and then moves to Eddie and Steve with silent understanding.

He knows. 

There isn’t disgust or malice in his face. He looks relieved. Almost hopeful. 

Next it’s Max, who’s eyebrows knit together, followed by Lucas. Then El, probably, because she just smiles. It’s Dustin and Mike that catch on last, who open their mouths, only to be aggressively shushed by Max.

“You love each other?” El is the first to speak up. Max is by her side almost instantly, whispers sharply that you can’t ask people tha t. 

Steve opens his mouth, ready to put an end to this torture, when the doorbell rings. Steve gives the group a final glance before turning to take the phone from the wall and listening briefly to a voice on the other side before buzzing someone in. Once the phone is back on the wall, a hushed discussion unleashes and Eddie and Steve can do nothing but pretend they don’t hear it.

A few seconds later, there is a knock on the door. Steve opens it and visibly relaxes once Robin and Vickie walk in. 

Distracted by the new company, the conversation shifts to a small interrogation of Robin and Vickie, and college and dorm rooms.

The tension seems to settle a little, the single bed forgotten in favor of snacks and sodas their parents won’t buy them. Eddie plays a game of cards with Max, El and Will, while Steve speaks quietly with Mike, and Robin discusses some weird science stuff with Dustin and Lucas.

The conversation seems a little troubled, Mike’s eyebrows furrowed. Eddie tries not to listen, but it’s hard. It’s hard for Will too. Max and El complaints echo each other as they remind the boys of their turns.

Listening is far more interesting though, and he catches fragments of it as he reshuffles the cards.

“—dated Nancy.”

“—I did like her.”

“—is a guy.”

“—both.”

Will is staring, eyes glued to Steve and Mike, and Eddie gets it. He suddenly understands and he feels for the guy. If Mike’s troubled expression is anything to go by though, not all hope is lost. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur of sugar and sound. None of the kids addressed the bed or the picture any more after that. It’s a silent acceptance and Eddie is fine with it. Prefers it, really. They treat it no different than Steve’s girlfriends before him, and it’s perfect. 

When most of the kids lie passed out across the various softer surfaces of the apartment, Steve pulls Eddie away. They leave the kids in Robin’s hands and make their way to the roof. 

It’s nearly five, and the sun stands proud and high as their shadows stretch long beneath them. Autumn tightened its grip on the world and slowly but surely the days are cooling down. 

Up here, the city seems loud and big, the world stretching endlessly behind glass towers. 

They lean on the parapet, staring down as cars the size of toys pass beneath them. Eddie’s hand finds Steve’s, heat seeking heat and skin touching skin, interweaving them until they’re a tangle of fingers.

“Are you happy?” He doesn’t look at Steve, but he feels Steve’s eyes on him. The grip on his hands tightens and it's a good tight. Together. 

“Happiest I’ve ever been,” Steve says. He turns his face to the world, sun hitting his skin and it seems like he’s glowing. 

They look over the city, and all is quiet except for the city itself. Eddie thinks of eroded ships and coiled up snakes, of the sun in all its brightness and heat. Of the people in his life, Wayne, Robin and Vickie, and the kids down in their small Indy apartment. Of the spaces they’ve made theirs. Not only in the world, but also in each other.

“Are you?” Steve’s voice interrupts his thoughts and Eddie can’t help but smile as he looks into auburn eyes that shine like liquid fire. Eyes that draw him in like gravity, pull him down, and root him in a world of possibility and love.

“Happiest I’ve ever been,” Eddie says as he squeezes Steve’s hand.

It's the closest two people have ever been. 

It must be.