Chapter Text
Steve is rapidly discovering that Eddie Munson has zero concept of personal space.
Over the months following Vecna’s destruction, Eddie has become a fixed presence in their group. It stands to reason that he’d get on with the kids, having spent a year of high school terrorising Mike, Dustin and Lucas with imaginary monsters, but he and Robin clicked quickly after a rainy afternoon in the quiet video store led to them comparing notes on obscure horror films, and Steve found that the man he’d once considered a complete outcast was actually a real blast to hang out with.
He had a sharp sense of humour, quick comebacks and was generous with his stock of weed and with his music collection, which he let Steve rifle through and borrow from after introducing him to Black Sabbath, telling Steve he should really check it out, seeing as he and Ozzy had a mutual hatred of bats. To Steve’s surprise he’d found himself enjoying the heavy guitar lines and knocked on Eddie’s trailer door the next day asking if he had any other albums by the same band.
Eddie had slung an arm around his shoulder, ruffling his hair as he did so, and grinned hugely at him.
“Steve Harrington, have I managed to corrupt you with Satanic music?”
Steve had nudged him in the ribs with a roll of his eyes.
“Man, I thought I was going to hate it but Ozzy has some lungs on him.”
Eddie had rubbed his side dramatically, wincing, and ushered Steve into his uncle’s new trailer with a bow.
.
The thing was, Eddie’s limbs seemed to draw to people like a magnet.
He’d gesture wildly while telling Steve and Robin about the kids’ latest campaign exploits and they’d find themselves dodging hands flying this way and that around their heads. He’d sling his arms around Mike and Dustin as the group of them hung out at the local arcade, with Steve and Eddie often getting roped into supervising and driving the Little Goblins, as Eddie insisted on calling them. Steve had even seen him spin Nancy up into a hug when they waved her and Jonathan off to catch a flight to California, and watched her giggle delightedly as he gently placed her back down, and kissed her hand with a dramatic flourish. Jonathan looked perplexed at the entire exchange, but that could have been a result of the joint Steve had spotted him smoking earlier that day.
So it wasn’t that he was surprised any more, each time Eddie’s shoulder leant into his as they walked along side by side, or Eddie’s feet landed in his lap as he flopped down onto the beat up sofa in the Wheeler’s basement.
The problem was, Steve was becoming more and more reliant on the little touches and nudges, the warmth of Eddie’s shoulder brushing his, or the scuff of the calluses left by guitar strings on Eddie’s fingers catching in his hair as he ruffled it, to bring his focus squarely onto that point of contact.
.
Steve’s parents weren’t the hugging type, and while playing basketball meant he’d spent a lot of time bumping into other guys, his teammates had never offered more than a solid thump on the back after a good game. When he and Nancy had dated, Steve had spent hours with her tucked against him in the dark cinema, or burying his face in her neck, soft hair tickling his eyelids as he’d pressed his lips to her skin, feeling his stomach flip and his chest burn with how much he wanted to be close to her.
When they’d broken up, he’d chased that feeling, that spark of heat deep within his chest, longing to find it again with one of the girls that giggled at his flirtatious comments and petted at their hair, blinking up at him, but he’d been left feeling just as hollow with all of them since.
He’d thought that maybe Robin would be the one, when they’d started working together, before finding out her secret. Not long after she’d confessed that she liked girls, she’d come to work snappy and terse, and Steve had wheedled it out of her that her crush had started dating a boy whose name he vaguely remembered from their high school. Impulsively he’d grabbed her in an awkward hug, hoping it might comfort her, and she’d wriggled out of it, scrunching her face at him.
“Let’s agree never to do that again, yeah?”
He had nodded firmly. It had been like hugging a squirmy younger sister, if he’d had one.
“Agreed.”
After their experience with the Russians, and the recovery that had followed, Steve had dated less and less. It maybe didn’t help that he’d mostly exhausted the dating pool of ex-Hawkins students and their friends, considering it was a small town, but he found he didn’t have the inclination to try and pretend he’d not been through hell and back while making nice on a date.
So when they were trudging through the Upside Down after encountering the demobats, and Eddie had leaned into him heavily as they bickered back and forth, and something in Steve’s chest sparked quietly into life, he had filed that away to consider when they weren’t in mortal danger.
.
The problem is, now that they aren’t in mortal danger Steve is very much aware that his stomach feels like it’s doing flips when Eddie ruffles his hair, and something glows warmly in his ribcage as they watch nerdy films that Eddie and Robin watch transfixed and Steve pretends to complain about, with Eddie’s calves pressing into his thighs.
As the months roll by after their ordeal with Vecna, he tries to squash out the feeling. He talks loudly about the girls in the films they watch as he drives Robin home from work, as she cringes and tells him he’s being weird. He flirts shamelessly with the girls that come into the video store, gets a few numbers, but never quite gets around to calling and asking them on a date. He watches a live show of Queen one night, on a rare night that both of his parents are in the house at the same time, and finds himself thinking of Eddie as he watches Brian May play his guitar, long hair swinging gently as he nods his head in time.
His mother is tapping her foot along, sighing quietly as Freddie Mercury struts across the stage in a tight tank top, and his father abruptly stands.
“Can’t believe they’re letting people like him parade around like that. Disgusting.”
Steve watches him march out of the room towards his office, and shrinks into the couch a little more, and as Freddie flings an arm out to gesture, tries not to think of Eddie and his wild hands flying around as he tells his stories.
.
Maybe Steve is drawn to Eddie like a magnet, all the same, because he finds himself outside the trailer once again before long, clutching a couple of records Eddie had pressed into his hands last time he’d swung by to pick up the kids from their dnd night, Dustin calling in one of his “Free Ride” tokens Steve had given him for his birthday, having scribbled the words over ten old arcade tokens.
Eddie had grinned as soon as he’d seen him descend to the basement, snagging the records from a bookcase nearby and leaning into his space as he handed them over.
“Stevie, you’re the only one who will appreciate this music, the infants over there say it’s offending their precious little eardrums.”
Steve broke eye contact before he got caught up in Eddie’s warm brown eyes, and looked down at the record, reading the band name Twisted Sister framed between Eddie’s ring-covered fingers, which brushed against his own.
Eddie squeezed his fingers briefly as he stepped away, strolling back to the table to clear away the dice and figurines that littered it.
“I’ll want a 3 page essay on why We’re Not Gonna Take It is one of the best songs ever written, due on my desk Monday, Mr Harrington.”
Steve cleared his throat quietly before smirking over at him.
“Mr Munson, you and I both know my academic history is nearly as poor as yours, you’re never getting that essay. I’ll give it a listen tomorrow though.”
Eddie nodded his head sagely, but whatever he was about to say next was interrupted by Dustin rushing over, saying he needed Steve to deliver him back home before his mom called the police and demanded they form a search party for her baby, who was 25 minutes past curfew.
……………
The door to the trailer swings open a couple of moments after Steve knocks, and Eddie beams as he takes in the sight of Steve standing on the step, records in one hand and a six-pack of beers in the other. He steps out, and Steve notices his bare feet peeking out from under his loose, ripped jeans that may have once been black but are now a faded grey. Eddie gives him a brief hug, and Steve feels his hair brush against his nose and cheek, wafting a faint smell of lemon and an underlying hint of smoke from the cigarettes Eddie smokes.
“To what do I owe this pleasure, my good sir?”
Eddie steps back a little, giving Steve’s shoulders a small squeeze as he releases him.
Steve blinks twice, eyes having closed as he tried not to breathe in the scent of Eddie’s hair too greedily, and shakes his head fractionally, waving the records lamely.
“I realised I’ve had these a little while, and honestly I’m dying to hear more of Twisted Sister, if you have any more of their stuff?”
Eddie practically drags him inside, almost yelling as he does so.
“I knew it! I knew you’d like them! I’ve got one of their earlier albums, let me find it and we can listen!”
As they walk through to Eddie’s tiny room, his uncle is shrugging on his jacket in the kitchen area.
“Hi, Steve.”
Steve nods politely, as Eddie’s uncle continues, directing his attention towards his nephew.
“Right, kiddo, I’m on a night shift so I’ll be back tomorrow. I know you’re old enough to look after yourself but don’t get trashed, clean up after yourselves if you make food and don’t get old Mrs Rand knocking on the door again telling you to turn your music down.”
Eddie snaps off a smart salute.
“Yessir.”
His uncle chuckles, and ruffles Eddie’s mane of hair as he walked to the door.
“See you tomorrow, you little shit.” He says affectionately.
Eddie grins back, squeezing the man’s shoulder and waving as he shut the door, turning on his heel to address Steve, who has been watching the easy comfort of their interaction with a pang of jealousy .
“Shall we?”
……………
In hindsight, getting stoned with Eddie might not have been Steve’s greatest idea, not when he’s trying to play it cool.
They’ve worked their way through one joint and then another, blasting Eddie’s music, Eddie trying to copy some of the songs on his guitar, and finally settling into comfortable silence as the trailer gets darker, night falling outside and the glow of a small bedside lamp lighting the room they sprawl in.
Steve has stretched out, head at the foot of Eddie’s bed and feet at the head, on the insistence of his host that he take the comfortable spot, and Eddie is on the floor, guitar in his lap and his head lolling back against Steve’s thigh. Steve pulls his gaze away from the ceiling and feels the warmth in his chest flare as he sees the puff of Eddie’s hair draped over his leg and the bedspread beneath. Eddie’s profile is silhouetted in the lamplight, eyelashes fanning out underneath his fringe. His fingers are gently strumming across the guitar, left hand pressing into the frets, notes barely breaking the silence. Steve has to choke down on the thoughts the weed is trying to get him to blurt out, before he inadvertently tells Eddie how pretty he is, how much he likes his stupid, gorgeous fluffy hair.
As if he feels the weight of Steve’s gaze, Eddie tilts his head, meeting Steve’s eyes with his own, pupils wide and glittering in the dark.
Steve drags his eyes away, looking out the window between the stickers and band flyers Eddie has stuck to it, where he can see the tops of some of the other trailers, and the treeline beyond. Suddenly, the quiet seems too oppressive, and he clears his throat, grabbing at the first conversation topic he can, the comfortable affection of Eddie and his uncle still on his mind, a far cry from his own family.
“Man, I don’t think I’ve ever asked how you ended up living here.”
Eddie sits up a little, lips tugging down a little as he places the guitar down, and Steve regrets his question immediately.
“Shit, you don’t have to tell me, just—“
Eddie shushes him with a lazy pat on his hip, one side of his mouth pulling up into a wry smile.
“It’s fine, Steve, don’t have a coronary. My parents kicked me out right after I failed high school the first time around, and my uncle was the only person in my family I could ask for help. Us black sheep of the family have to stick together.”
Steve sits up a little, half reaching to offer Eddie his condolences.
“That’s bullshit, did they think that would scare you into passing Math?”
Eddie chuckles, eyes flicking up to meet Steve’s. Steve sees his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, words coming out in a rush.
“I think it was less about the grades, and more about the fact my dad caught me with my hand down Tommy Sawyer’s pants when he’d come over to ‘study’ one night.”
Steve’s stomach swoops and he stutters.
“You- um, wha-“
Eddie rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Robin said you guys talked about her last year, so I figured, y’know, my secret would be safe with you.”
Steve’s head is spinning, and he realises he’s been silent too long.
“No, yeah, dude, of course!” He hesitates before asking. “Can I- did you always like, know?”
He sees Eddie relax, tension leaving his shoulders as he figures Steve isn’t going to bolt immediately.
“Yeah, I mean I think I always knew. Girls just didn’t do it for me, y’know. Never gave me the warm and fuzzies. And my parents had talked about my uncle, Dad told me I’d end up being ‘trash like that fucking queer’ when he booted me out, so I figured he’d be safe to ask for help.”
Eddie puts on a booming, exaggerated snarl for his dad, but the laughter doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Steve reaches out and squeezes his shoulder from his position on the bed, rolling a little onto his side, feeling suddenly more sober. Eddie tilts his head a little until his chin rests on Steve’s fingers, lips quirking a little.
Inside Steve’s ribcage js a bright heat, and he replays the phrase “warm and fuzzies” in his head. This doesn’t feel warm and soft, it’s a burning heat that threatens to engulf him.
Eddie reaches over to the bedside table, plucking the remaining half of the joint they were sharing earlier and offers it out. Steve shakes his head.
“I should head home, I’ve got an early shift at the store tomorrow.”
Eddie nods, stretching his legs out and pushing himself up, before offering a hand to Steve, who takes it and levers himself up off the bed. As he stands, he realises how close they are, the limited floor space in Eddie’s bedroom meaning their feet almost touch, Steve’s old basketball socks to Eddie’s bare feet. Steve tears his eyes away from their still-joined hands, and tilts his head up to look at the slightly taller Eddie.
Eddie isn’t wearing his characteristic grin, instead staring down at Steve with an almost shy expression. He clears his throat.
“Listen, man, I know I can be a bit, like, full on. If you want me to stop with the-“
He lifts their clasped hands a little, by way of explanation. Steve blinks, then blurts out.
“Eddie, man, no. It’s cool, really, it’s fine.”
The warmth inside him flares again, and he thinks back to the times he didn’t tell Nancy how he felt, to every time he thought might be his last moment in the Upside Down, to the things he wished he’d said and done. Their lives have been at risk so many times, he doesn’t want to regret or miss one more thing, when it might all go to hell again any day.
“I like it.” Steve looks up at Eddie, whose expression is open and unguarded. “I- I like you.”
Eddie’s entire face lights up in the darkness, and his hand drops Steve’s. Steve only mourns the loss for a second before Eddie’s hands cup either side of his face and he steps closer, feet either side of Steve’s.
“Can I-“
Steve might have stopped breathing. All he can think of, all he can feel and smell is Eddie, the scent of lemon and smoke again crowding his nostrils, calluses fingers brushing his cheekbones, and he feels his head tilt in a nod.
Eddie doesn’t hesitate, pressing in closer and tilting his head slightly as he slots their mouths together. For a second they stay like that, then Steve’s brain clicks in and his hands come up to Eddie’s hips. This is something he knows, something he’s good at. He parts his lips slightly, tilts his own head a little in response, and the kiss turns from chaste to heated.
Eddie rumbles out a quiet groan, and Steve presses his advantage, gently nipping his lower lip, feeling Eddie’s lips part a little in a silent sigh. It’s not much different to kissing girls; Eddie responds to the same things, and lips are lips, when it comes down to it. But also, this is Eddie, and everything is different. He’s a shade taller than Steve, and his hips, where Steve’s hands press into his worn hand tee, are firm, the muscles of his waist shifting in Steve’s hands as Eddie leans in further, brings a hand down from Steve’s face to the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair a little as he takes the lead again.
They part, chests heaving, and Steve feels like he’s on fire. He expects to open his eyes and see himself glowing, lighting up the room with how heated his skin feels.
Eddie’s own eyes are dark, pupils blown, and his lips are full and slightly shiny.
I did that, Steve thinks.
A distant part of his mind is screaming Nancy, screaming girls, replaying his father’s scorn over Freddie Mercury, what he might say if he finds out about Steve, but he squashes down that part of his brain and chases the high that is Eddie and Eddie’s mouth and Eddie’s hands, still in his hair as they kiss once more.
Eddie kisses lazily, like he’s got all the time in the world. He’s so sweet it could give Steve toothache, gently cupping the base of his skull with one hand, the other trailing down Steve’s neck to rest over his heart, fingers pressing gently over his T-shirt. And Steve, Steve is a gentleman, knows how to charm his dates, when to be soft, but this feels like it has been a long time coming and he wants to press into Eddie, to burrow inside him and wrap around him and dig his claws in a little, keep him close.
Reflexively, his hands tighten a little on Eddie’s hips, and he presses the taller man back a little, into the wall crowded with posters, tilting for a better angle to swoop his tongue over his bottom lip and into his mouth, running over Eddie’s teeth as he presses their hips flush.
Eddie pulls away with a rough, stuttering gasp as their crotches press together.
“Fuck, Steve, you-“
He pulls his hands away from Steve’s hair to scrub a hand roughly over his face, then dips his head to press his forehead to Steve’s shoulder and laugh quietly.
“This is a dream, I am not making out with fucking Steve Harrington in my bedroom. I must be higher than I thought.”
Steve lets out a chuckle too.
“You have many dreams about me, Eds?”
Eddie keeps his head pressed into Steve’s collarbone, breath huffing over his heated skin.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that without my lawyer present.”
And Steve is grinning, feeling like he’s floating. His eyes drift to the clock on Eddie’s nightstand, blinking the time, 1:08am, and he starts.
“Shit, man, I actually do need to get some sleep, I’m covering Rob’s 9am tomorrow.
Eddie sighs, pulls away reluctantly, looking like Steve feels, like he doesn’t want to be apart from Steve for a second. Steve feels instantly bad.
“But look, I’m off tomorrow night, how about you come to the store, we’ll pick one of your horrible horror films, and we can go to mine? My folks are, um, out of town for a while.”
Eddie’s mouth quirks up.
“I’d like that.”
“Great, great! Um, right, I’d better-“
Leaving the trailer is nearly painful, and they awkwardly embrace by the door, mindful of potential nosy neighbours, but Steve carries the warm coals of affection in his chest as he drives home, unlocks the door to his empty house and buries himself in the sheets of his bed, the scent of lemon still lingering around him.