Chapter Text
1977 Eddie
Eddie Munson discovered porn before he even had his first crush. He had a habit of being both behind and ahead of his peers in various often alienating ways. He’d found his dad’s skin mags in the garage, and boy, those lovely ladies certainly had been eye opening and so very bendy. He really liked the cheerleaders, who sure seemed to enjoy practicing together. But the illustrated Fantasy Whoreoines art zine had been his favorite. Slick fantasy art of hot chicks and dragons? Oh, he’d really liked that.
After his dad got arrested, he snagged a few of his favorites, and started exploring how they made him feel. It was an extremely messy time to say the least. After leaving his dad’s for good, his Uncle Wayne found them while helping Eddie set up his new room. Eyes wide and cheeks flaming Eddie was frozen to the spot, mentally begging for death. He knew these were dirty, secret things and he shouldn’t have them.
Rambling in a shrill voice a mile a minute, “Those aren’t mine! They must have been packed by- by accident! I- I promise I would never— I wouldn’t even know what those— what do you even do with—”
Uncle Wayne waved away his ramblings. Lip trembling Eddie braced himself to be punished. But Wayne just chuckled and said, “Enough of that malarkey. Before I give these back to you, remember, son, it’s not fair, and it ain’t right to expect all the girls you meet when you’re older to behave this way. They might or they might not and either way, that’s all fine, understand?” Eddie nodded. “But above all else, all these girls are somebody. Even the ones in here, and they deserve respect, you hear me?” Eddie nodded again and Wayne started to hand them back. He paused and Eddie waited with baited breath. “Oh, and make sure I’m at work if you’re gonna be reading, okay?” He smiled warmly, and Eddie promptly turned an even deeper shade of scarlet, but managed a timid nod and a smile.
He never forgot what his uncle told him as he grew up. And the older he got the more he loved his uncle for the care and understanding he took with everything he believed.
1977 Steve
The first time Steve Harrington kissed a girl it was completely by accident. Her name was Sophie, and she wore her hair braided with blue ribbons, just like Dorothy Gale from Kansas. He’d been aiming for her cheek, but she’d turned at the last moment, and their lips collided. The kiss was short and dry, but so soft and sweet. After what couldn’t have been more than a second or two she pulled away with a sweet blush coloring her cheeks. Steve felt all warm and tingly, he imagined a butterfly fluttering it’s wings in his chest.
Later that same summer, Steve met a boy at the park named James. He always lost to Steve at Horse, but he told him he didn’t really care about basketball, he just liked Steve. Steve felt the butterfly again. James wanted to be a dancer and was even going to be the young Nutcracker Prince at the Indianapolis Ballet. When Steve asked his dad if they could go see his new friend for Christmas, his parents promptly cut that friendship off at the knees forbidding him from seeing James again. It was the first time Steve heard the word queer. They wouldn’t explain what that word meant, but according to his mother, ‘normal, good boys don’t associate with boys like that.’
1979 Eddie
Eddie wasn’t prone to frequent crushes, and infatuations like his peers, and didn’t really understand what all the fuss was about. He was starting to suspect he may never understand. Then it, she, hit him like a big yellow school bus: Debra Knightley. Deb was a bookish girl with a pixie cut, who hissed at people who interrupted her when she was reading. His heart had always beat for the lost sheep and the outcasts with his friendships, so why would his crushes be any different? All Eddie wanted was to find kinship and love with kindred weirdos.
Needless to say it was like like at first hiss, and Eddie was positively smitten. He crafted a plan that very afternoon to win fair lady’s heart. One day, after she’d closed her book, of course, Eddie made his move. Standing as grand and tall as he could manage, with one hand to his heart and the other outstretched like Romeo in dirty sneakers and a Metallica tee he recited Byron to her right there in the middle of the library. Deb squinted at him impatiently, but didn’t interrupt. Once he’d finished, after the laughter of his other peers died down, she calmly deemed his recitation to be ‘maudlin trash’ and left him without another glance. Every attempt to speak to her after that was just as artistically scathing and equally ineffective. Yet Eddie still nursed that crush for the rest of the school year purely on the grounds that he’d never been insulted in such cool ways before.
1980 Steve
By the time he was 12 he’d heard the phrase ‘I didn’t raise no queer’ countless times. Now close to starting eighth grade he fully understood what those words meant, how he was expected to behave, and most importantly who he was expected to be. There was no escape from hearing those words and it wasn’t just from his dad, his mother loved her less crass but no less cutting variations too. And his classmates and friends were often spitting much crasser, and far more colorful comments with harsh cruelty at their peers. Steve didn’t really say those things, but he didn’t stop his friends either. You hear enough stuff from everyone around you, and you often just think it too. Those people care for you so they must have your best interests at heart, right?
Every time he brought a new girl home his father would pat him on the back, and tell him he was proud. His mother would smile and kiss him on the forehead when he brought the same girl to dinner the following week. But the older he got, the less his parents were around. The less they smiled. The less they touched him. The less they spoke at all. The less anything Steve did seemed to matter to them, and the harder he tried to be important.
Your cruel device
1980 Eddie
Shortly after starting high school, Eddie was walking home from a friend’s house late one night, when he took a shortcut past The Hideout. It was nearly bar close when he heard what sounded like someone in trouble, moaning in pain. Ignoring his instinct to run, he snuck into the alley to see what the commotion was. The guy he found was definitely moaning alright, but he sure as shit wasn’t in pain, lucky fucker wasn’t hurting at all.
Mostly hidden in shadow with his back up against The Hideout, was a preppy older guy, probably college age. He was wearing a beat up Hawkins High letterman jacket, and he was getting a blowjob! Getting sucked off right there behind the bar, next to the dirty dumpsters! And between his legs in a leather jacket was an alternative girl with long wavy blonde hair on her knees. She must have really known what she was doing because Letterman was whimpering and groaning up a storm whilst running his fingers through her hair. Eddie was chubbing up and wishing he could get closer to see better.
It wasn’t long before Letterman was shuddering, “Fuck yea Andie,” into the crisp night air as he came down Leather Jacket’s, Andie’s, throat. “Baby, baby let me…” Letterman begged huskily, “I gotta fucking touch you.” He pulled her up and spun their positions, pressing her into the wall and kissing her hard while reaching down to unzip her jeans. Letterman was clearly about to start fingering her. Eddie was excited to see what she looked like and hear her high breathy moans. When Letterman finally pulled back, revealing her face, Eddie’s mouth dropped open like a cartoon.
Eyes practically bugging out of his head he stared, completely floored because Leather Jacket started moaning low and deep while Letterman jerked him off. And Leather Jacket, Andy, who-was-definitely-not-a-girl, was so hard, just from sucking Letterman’s dick. Andy whispered sexy nothings, Eddie couldn’t hear, into Letterman’s ear as he bucked into his fist. Clutching the preppy guy close, Andy claimed Letterman’s mouth in another desperate kiss. When Andy came, Eddie moaned audibly too, just now noticing he himself was still just as hard, maybe even harder, than when he’d stumbled onto this lurid scene. The noise alerted Andy and Letterman who both froze, turning toward the sound. Eddie heard an audible ‘shit’ from one of them. He fucking booked it on out of there before either of the larger, older men could catch him spying. Eddie ran all the way home.
Thankfully Wayne had just started working third shift, so Eddie was all alone. And with all the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, it didn’t take long as he brought himself off right there against the closed door.
Your web, I’m caught
1981 Steve
Steve’s dad was always trying to set him up with his coworkers’ daughters. Always going on about ‘forging a business Dynasty’ like it was the 1800’s or some shit. Steve was always polite, it wasn’t like the girl wanted to be there any more than he did most of the time.
Until Vivian Woods. She was also a freshman, though she went to an all girls school in another town. She had a big smile and an even bigger perm. He asked her about her interests and she told him she was the youngest member ever on her student council and she loved playing the violin. And she in turn asked him about sports, especially delighted in hearing about his tiny little uniforms. She giggled sweetly and smiled coyly. He put his hand on her knee under the table and she hooked her foot around his ankle. And so it went.
Steve hadn’t gotten his learner’s permit yet, and thus didn’t have a car, so their parents drove them to the movies. Steve’s arm would snake around her shoulders. Their hands not-so-accidentally brushing in the popcorn bucket. Since he’d been kissing girls since he was 11, there was no apprehension to be found when he leaned over to kiss her right as the characters in the movie did the same. She gasped in surprise, pulling away in the darkness.
“Sorry,” he said with mock sheepishness, rubbing the back of his neck. “You just look so pretty in the dark.” Though he couldn’t see her blush in the low light, he knew she was charmed. She looked back at him as he smiled earnestly, eyes big and eager. She leaned into him this time, cupping her cheek, he deepened the kiss. A soft contented sigh escaped her lips. Tentatively he pressed his tongue against the seam of her lips. She opened to him easily like most girls did. He felt her up through her blouse. They made out through the credits and had to be kicked out by the overworked 18 year old manager.
Their heavy petting sessions continued through the next few weeks at movies and during various study sessions. On their one month anniversary he called her house.
“Viv, do you know what day it is?” he crooned.
She giggled over the line, “Yes, of course I do.” He knew she was blushing.
“I wanna see you later, to celebrate, properly.” He wasn’t sure if she understood his meaning.
She giggled some more and he figured maybe she did. Soft and a little breathy, “I’d like that Steve.” Oh she definitely did.
Later that night Steve snuck out of his house with the condoms his dad had given him. He shimmied down the drainpipe like a ninja, and ran the rest of the way to Vivian’s house, never having been so nervous or excited in his young life.
Her bedroom was on the second floor. He thought about throwing rocks at her window like he’d seen in romantic movies, but didn’t want to alert her parents. He climbed up the tree outside her bedroom window and knocked on the glass. There was a small crash inside before she opened the curtains. She yelped and Steve pressed his finger to his lips. She quieted instantly, but her eyes were still big and terrified.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“I said I was gonna come by to celebrate.”
“Yea but I thought you meant to use the door! How did you even get up here??”
Cheekily, “Climbed up the tree.” She looked horrified. Steve felt like the cat that caught the canary, adrenaline and anticipation coursing through his veins. “I knew your dad wouldn’t let me in.” He smiled his most charming smile. Her shock melting as his earnestness affected her. “It’s romantic, like Romeo.”
“He just stood outside Juliet’s balcony.”
“Cause he didn’t have a tree to climb.” She giggled sweetly behind her hand. “Do you want me to leave?” She shook her head. “Can I come in?” She nodded. He gracelessly fell through her window, only barely managing not to crash to the floor.
Her smile was infectious as she delighted in his antics. “You’re a doofus, Steve Harrington.”
He leaned forward into her space. “Only for a pretty girl like you.”
She blushed a deep red and looked up at him through her lashes. “What now?” she whispered softly.
He tilted his head, “Anything you like.” She nervously twisted her sweater in her hands. “But I have a few ideas.” He brushed his fingertips along across the hem, testing the waters as he slipped his fingers up and underneath, touching the bare skin of her stomach. She squeaked softly. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked. She shook her head.
He slipped his hand up, under her chemise brushing against her bra. She stood on her tiptoes as he leaned down to meet her lips in a soft kiss. Steve slipped his hand into her bra. She deepened the kiss, mewling softly into his mouth as he fondled her breasts.
Enhancing the pressure and the closeness he guided her hands to his chest. They kissed and touched like this for a bit, he wasn’t sure how long they caressed each other. He was hard already, but it was so pleasant being close to her. She was so warm under his hands.
“Can we take these off?” he whispered into her hair, tugging at her clothes. She looked up in surprise. “I wanna see you.” She flushed harder, but her eyes were so bright. Nodding furiously she watched him take off his shirt.
She slipped off hers and he undid her bra. She whined against him. She was beautiful. She stared at the tent in his jeans with fascination and trepidation, but she touched it experimentally. Even through his clothes Steve shuddered at her touch.
Embarrassed, she apologized, “Oh, jeez Steve I’m—”
“No, it feels good. I want you to too, if you want to.”
Her eyes were large and excited. He undid his jeans and slid them off. He pulled down her skirt. With mostly bare bodies flush he walked them to her bed and laid her down. He could tell she was embarrassed.
“You’re beautiful, Vivian.” Her breath hitched. The bed squeaked as he joined her, bracing himself up on an elbow. She was so warm between her legs. This wasn’t his first time he’d touched a girl like this, but he loved it every time. The needy little sounds they all made. The way they said his name. The flush dusting over their skin. The warmth of their bodies pressed together. Their wetness coating his fingers. Everything made him dizzy and eager, throbbing in his briefs.
The act itself had only been kinda awkward, mostly it was sweet. Whispering each other’s names because they couldn’t think of anything else to say. The sensation was so different than a hand or a mouth, it was probably over sooner than it should have been. They awkwardly laid next to each other for several minutes, as he felt himself grow soft in the condom.
Steve didn’t call her again after that. And she didn’t call him either. He knew he should have felt bad for not calling, and he did kind of. It had been so fun on their dates, and he liked making out and touching each other, even before they had sex. But he didn’t really feel much of anything once it was over. Not until his dad gave him a pat on the back and a proud smile. Somehow that felt like an accomplishment. Why did that feel like an achievement?
Poison running through my veins
1981 Eddie
It was rare for Eddie to truly want to impress someone, but freshman Jonathan Byers, with his quiet intensity and great artistic eye, in their shared photography class was special. Sophomore Eddie wanted to protect him from bullies, invite him to play D&D, and be his friend. Jonathan always came to class looking so sullen, but not in your standard garbage teenager way, no sir, this was true world weariness. So, above all else, Eddie wanted to make Jonathan smile.
They sat next to each other and Eddie would affectionately annoy him. It didn’t take at first. Jonathan loved photography, that much was clear and was deeply resistant to goofing off when Mr. Hamilton was teaching. So, just like with Debra, Eddie waited for his moment. Since the dark room was so small the students were always broken into two groups. One would be in the dark room and the other half would be working on smaller adjacent art projects. Each new week they would switch off which group was developing film.
In their non-photography weeks Jonathan was just as uninterested in class as Eddie was which meant he could talk with him. When asking about his life home proved futile Eddie shared his campaign ideas with him instead. This got him talking because apparently Jonathan’s baby brother was a DM too, a wee little one. And Eddie was enchanted listening to him gush about it. Sadly, Jonathan didn’t play Dungeons & Dragons, though he still listened with enthusiasm and understood everything Eddie was talking about. They fell into easy conversations after that about countless things. Sharing in differing, but equally polarizing, music tastes compared to their peers. Swapping stupid stories that hid much darker memories. And laughing, there was so much laughing.
He would sing and dance and be an overall goofy, disruptive menace; anything to make Jonathan crack a smile. As his hijinks ramped up more and more, their boorish teacher couldn’t ignore him anymore. Eddie took his detentions, of which there were many, with pride and grace. Mr. Hamilton absolutely sucked anyway, so annoying him was an added bonus, but the goal was a smile from his sad new friend.
Still filled with mirth, after Eddie’s latest tirade, Jonathan turned to whisper to him. Eddie held his breath. “Hamilton hates you dude. How often are you in detention anyway, Munson? It’s gotta be everyday now.”
“Very astute Byers, it is,” he laughed. “But it’s all worth it, if this humble jester can make a noble squire such as yourself laugh.” Jonathan just shook his head and laughed with Eddie, never at him. It made Eddie feel oh so lucky when he had Jonathan’s attention on him. He was doing good work putting a smile on that, so often, woeful face.
One gray Tuesday, Jonathan looked particularly hollow eyed, even for him, when they’d sat down together at the start of class, he brushed off Eddie’s attempt to ask what was wrong. Before he could try again they’d split off to review each other’s work. As Eddie deftly lied to another classmate about the deep inner artistic meaning behind his blurry photo of a bowl of fruit he overheard Mr. Hamilton speaking with Jonathan.
“You’re a waste of film Byers,” Mr. Hamilton said with disgust.
Jonathan held himself stiffly, his jaw tense, clearly fighting off tears. The silent kind that are far worse than loud sobs. The kind you absolutely can’t hold back. The kind that just slip out no matter how hard you try to hold them in. The kind that meant you were on your last hope and you just couldn’t fight it anymore.
Eddie’s blood boiled as he snarled, “You're a waste of a teacher, you fascist.”
From across the room, “Excuse me, Mr. Munson, what was that?” he snapped.
Much louder this time, Eddie stood, cocking his head from side to side for emphasis, “You are a waste of a teacher.” He spread his arms wide, staring him dead in the face, stalking towards him. “You. Pathetic. Fucking. Fascist!”
Mr. Hamilton purpled with rage, “You’re out of here Munson! Detention for a week!”
Eddie bowed dramatically amidst the cheering of his classmates, even blowing kisses to the adoring crowd. He nodded to Jonathan and winked on his way out, “Chin up Ansel Adams. Don’t let The Man get you down.”
It was a small thing and yet it fully reached his eyes as Jonathan smiled shyly at Eddie. And with that he marched out to the principal’s office, proud as a peacock, feeling as though he could fight god and win because it was true, the detentions didn’t matter if he made Jonathan Byers smile. And when he laughed? Well then, Eddie was over the moon. Jonathan would always chuckle behind his fist, but there was no mistaking the joy in his perpetually tired eyes. And Eddie would beam back like the damn Cheshire Cat, grinning so wide his jaw would hurt.
The following week they commiserated about how much their deadbeat dads sucked. Jonathan’s father was far worse than Eddie’s, at least Al was in jail. Lonnie was a real bastard, the kind who only feel big when picking on someone small. He sang the praises of his Uncle Wayne while Jonathan spoke about how hard his mom was trying, but he had to get a job soon to make ends meet. Eddie mentioned that he sometimes dealt for Reefer Rick if Jonathan ever needed extra cash. He’d been wide eyed and horrified by the very idea, claiming his mom would kill him if he ever danced with Mary Jane. Eddie had cackled for a full minute at that.
But paradise was to be lost for good, however, when Eddie got caught smoking in the dark room and finally got kicked out of class for good. Eddie tried to hang out with him after school, but once Jonathan got a job, he didn’t have time for friends. So, without the shared class between them, their lives no longer crossed and even though he’d only known him for a few months Eddie would miss him for much longer.
1981 Steve
They spent most of their time together, Tommy and Steve. They’d been best friends since the sixth grade. Spending plenty of nights alone in one of their bedrooms having snuck a six pack, and later on a bottle of Mr. H’s whiskey. The only differences between the Hagan and Harrington household was the decor. Where Steve’s room was a boring plaid prison, Tommy’s was an equally wretched striped motif. Their ugly giant houses were on the same block, standing stark in muted tones; void of personality, life, and warmth most days. Neither of their parents were around much, neither of their fathers really cared, neither of their mothers ever worried. They told each other everything. Their hopes and dreams, their secrets and fears. And of course, they talked about girls. Who was hottest, what they’d done with them, what they wanted to do with them, and other such ‘boys will be boys’ things. Congratulating and commiserating back and forth on the floor or the bed. Laughing and smiling and bumping their shoulders together. Tommy and Steve against the world.
1983
It was an unseasonably cool night in early September, a brisk, but not entirely unpleasant, breeze coming in through Steve’s window after the summer heat. Tonight started out like most other nights they spent alone together. They were lounging on Steve’s bed and had been passing a ‘78 bourbon back and forth. Steve was feeling pretty buzzed and judging by the rosy flush behind his freckles, Tommy must be even more far gone.
He took another swig from the bottle, it barely even burned, all smoky and smooth going down. “So how’s Carol?”
“She’s on the rag—” Tommy reached over taking the bottle from his grasp, fingers brushing as he does. Definitely buzzed, Steve mused as the pleasant warmth settled low in his stomach. “—and being a grade A bitch.” Steve chuckled. “But fuck her Steve, I wanna hear about your hot date with Geena.”
Tommy settled into his seat, making himself more at home on his left. Steve props his left knee up, balancing his arm casually on it as he regales Tommy, “Took her out for a nice dinner at Finesse, place has candles and everything, ordered her the risotto. She loved it obviously. And went to the movies.” Steve knew this wasn’t what Tommy wanted to know. He was always going to tell him what he wanted, but secretly he loved riling Tommy up.
As of on cue Tommy shifts in anticipation beside him. “Come on Steve,” he whines.
He takes the bottle back from Tommy who huffs in further annoyance. Wearing a shit-eating-grin, cocky as ever he continues, “We saw Flashdance and man, Jennifer Beals can move.”
“You know what I wanna hear,” Tommy groans, leaning in closer, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s. He can smell the bourbon on Tommy’s breath.
“Do I?” Steve smirks around the bottle.
His voice is raspy, needy almost, “Come on man, don’t make me beg.” Steve’s smile nearly slips, breath hitching. “What did Geena do to you after you got her all worked up?”
“How do you know I got her all worked up?”
“Cause I know you. Know how you operate.” Risking a glance over at him, Tommy’s eyes are lidded and dark, hazily looking at Steve. “I know what you do to them, how you make girls feel.”
A strange heat swirls in his gut and he takes another drink, avoiding Tommy’s eyes, but he can feel him watching as he swallows. “Well what do you think she did to me?” he teases, finding ease in their usual banter.
“After you got her all wet and moaning for you, did she suck you off?” Steve feels his cock stir in his Levi’s, clearly thinking about Geena. Out of the corner of his eye he swears Tommy shifts his hand over his own crotch. Steve’s smile faltering as he nods. Tommy's full lips parted on a smirk, eyes still trained on Steve. “Were you hard?”
Still not letting himself really look back at him, Steve answers, breath hitching, playing up his confidence, “Of course I was hard, she was sucking my dick.”
Tommy lets out a small noise, it’s breathy and rough and Steve is so fucking buzzed and kinda hard too. He hears the rustling of fabric beside him. From the corner of his eye Tommy presses the heel of his hand over his jeans, palming himself. Is he…is he hard too?
“Tell me how hard you were,” he whines softly. Oh fuck, he is. Heat pools in Steve's stomach and lower too, only adding to his growing problem. “Steve…” He panics thinking he's been caught out, but when he glances over at Tommy with nervous eyes, Tommy isn’t looking down at Steve’s situation, his eyes are still on Steve’s face. As Tommy awaits his answer, the sound of him working himself over his jeans is unmistakable. “Were you this hard, Steve?”
There’s a definite heat behind Tommy’s voice, in his eyes, he's breathing hard and his cheeks are so flushed. Tommy flicks his gaze down and back up, leading Steve’s gaze to the tent in his pants. Steve’s cheeks warm further. “Fuck,” he whispers. Tommy gropes himself again and Steve nods, “Yeah, yeah I was.”
***
The next morning from his spot on the floor Tommy pointedly says, “Fuckin’ don’t remember a thing from last night. Can’t believe we both blacked out. Couple of lightweights aren’t we, Harrington?” Steve nods noncommittally in agreement, Tommy only calls him 'Harrington' when he’s not fucking around. But Steve doesn’t want to think about last night anyway and by the end of the week, he’s set his sights on Nancy Wheeler.
Burning deep…inside my brain