Archive of Our Own

Steve had naively assumed, not for the first time, that saving the world and its backlog of trauma would at some point get easier. That the practice of it, the previous experience, would make it a simpler journey back into the normal world. But that was the optimistic part of himself. The part that picked himself up and was ready to say I can be friends with my ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend. To not take it too personally that he had no idea what he was doing with his life or that one of his best friends was a dweeby just-graduated Freshman. That part. 

But it was naive, because more trauma didn’t make the previous trauma any easier, just piled on. And Steve was adjusting the best he knew how—pretending it wasn’t there, keeping on a brave face for his friends. Which was fine enough during the day, but at night… well, night fucking sucked. 

He struggled to fall asleep most nights, and the ones his exhaustion took over typically ended in nightmares that were worse. Steve was exhausted. A bone-deep sort, but he was Steve Harrington. Once King. Now Babysitter. The one who kept shit together when the adults were gone, and it was just him.

So he didn’t mention it when Robin looked at him with suspicious eyes at work as he was drooping more than normal or answer Nancy or Jonathan’s are you okay? with anything beside a smile and a nod. He just shrugged when Dustin made a comment about Steve being a space case, whatever he meant by that. 

Yeah, going alright. As far as his adjusted standards went. 

But it was when he was sitting on Joyce Byers’ stoop for the third time that week, sharing a late night cigarette with her because his house was too quiet, that it hit him. How tired he was. How much he’d been ignoring just how tired he was. 

“Honey, you can always sleep here, you know,” she said casually, a cigarette perched between her lips, looking somewhere in the distance. Like she knew, somehow, how hard it might be for him to ask. Steve liked Joyce a lot—in some ways, he was the mother he wished he had. And he felt so lucky to be able to drive up to their new house in Hawkins and have her step out on the front stoop as if she was expecting him, cigarette pack and lighter already in her hands. 

“Thanks, Joyce. But it’s just…” he didn’t know exactly how he was going to finish that thought, where it was going, how to explain things. His friends might have helped him become a better communicator over the last few years, but he was raised in a household that didn’t talk about anything. That pushed problems under the rug and threw a smile on their face instead. That sort of habit was hard to break. 

Joyce reached out and patted his shoulder, as if she already knew what he was thinking when he didn’t even have a handle on it. “If you find the words, you can always talk to me,” she said. As easy as breathing. 

Steve felt his breath hitch, his throat tighten, and he swallowed it down. Some days, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve all of this… support in his life. How he’d went from an empty home, a few fake friends, parents that didn’t give a shit about him to true, real relationships. A pack of people willing to come fill up his living room if he were just to ask. Adults who offered their shoulders for comfort or advice or a cigarette smoked in silence beside you. 

Yet, there was still that hook of lonely that was cemented in place in his gut. That Nancy had Jonathan, Max had Lucas, Robin had Vickie, Dustin had Suzie, etc. etc. And King Steve didn’t have an ear to turn to, not really, when everyone already had someone else. Which was a stupid thought, he knew. If he were to ask, any of them would love to listen. To offer their version of whatever—advice, comfort. But it felt nagging, like too much, like a burden. Steve wasn’t anyone’s burden. 

What he really needed more than an ear was to fucking sleep. Without weird nightmares. Without screams or hours rolling in bed because it just wouldn’t come. What he would do for eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Fuck. 

“Well,” Joyce said as she flicked the last of her cigarette, pushing herself back up to standing, “I should make sure all the hellions are asleep. You stay as long as you want or come on in if you get chilly.” She pressed a hand into his shoulder, and Steve leaned in. 

“Thank you,” he called after her, and when she turned at the half open door, giving him a shy little smile, he continued, “for everything. You know, just… yeah, everything.” 

The smile turned to a beam, a light switched on, and she gave one final nod before disappearing inside. 

Something about the way Joyce had said it: simply—offering sleep, offering to talk. Those two things were what he needed more than anything, and it was silly that it had to be said in her voice for Steve to really hear it. But he didn’t know how to walk across the bridge of communication quite yet, so sleep? That was first. 

The next day Steve worked, this time on only an hour or two of sleep that was slowing him down. Usually he was better at hiding it, but he’d only gotten one cup of coffee, and it was pouring rain outside. The weather always got to Steve, making him feel like he should be at home lounging on his couch and not in the outside world with other people. 

“Perk up, buttercup,” Robin said, sending him a full-blown and shit-eating smile. “Only a few more hours in the hellhole, and then you can go take that nap you clearly need.”

Vickie appeared at the counter, seemingly tired of looking through rows of movies she’d looked at a million times before waiting for Robin to be off or on break. “You have looked better, Steve.” She grimaced a little, as if she knew the words didn’t necessarily come off as polite. 

“Thanks for the pep talk, guys.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m feeling pretty hot now, and totally not like I look like shit. Super cool. Just take your break and go make out in the back like I know you want to.” 

Robin gave him a grateful smile and blew him a kiss. “Sorry. We loooooove you.” 

He shook his head, turning back to lean his elbows on the counter. When it wasn’t busy, and especially when Steve was tired, shifts dragged without Robin’s company. Nothing to distract himself with, and all he was left with was thinking. Though Steve didn’t miss being an asshole with no real friends, he did miss the simplicity. Only worrying about basketball practice, which party was coming up and how he was gonna steal booze from his parents, what girls he’d flirt with. Easier than now and all the racing thoughts he was attempting to keep tamped down. 

As if the universe was answering his prayers, trying to offer him a modicum of distraction, Eddie Munson walked through the doors with a small bell chime. No, walk wasn’t the right word for the way Eddie entered spaces. It was near a strut, hands moving around him like he was performing, and in a way he probably was. He shot Steve a wide grin, tiptoeing toward him as the smile stayed and he leaned himself up onto the counter. His right forearm grazed Steve’s. They were too close, but Steve had grown comfortable with the closeness Eddie sometimes elicited. He didn’t seem to question it, so why would Steve?

“Hey, princess.” Eddie brought his arm into an L, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “Why so lonesome?”

He motioned behind him with his thumb, clicking his tongue. “Ditched for a makeout, and this weather is gloomy as shit.” 

Eddie looked over his shoulder to confirm, as if there weren't still rain droplets leaving damp tears on his jean vest. As if his normal curls weren’t tamped down by the rain, shining just the littlest bit under the artificial lighting. Steve never understood why he seemed so acutely aware of Eddie in his space, the way he moved, but he chalked it up to his comfort with being ridiculous. No shame. So unashamedly himself in a way that made Steve jealous, honestly. To know who you were and not give a shit about the rest of the world; hell, Steve had been trying, had gotten a lot better at it, but his brain was too quick to turn on him. 

“Stevie needs to geeeeeet some,” Eddie sing-songed, tilting his head back and forth with that grin again. The wide one that was nearly always on his face, that emitted joy. It was so fucking contagious, and Steve could barely contain his own smile in return. 

But he was being insulted. So he pouted instead, narrowing his eyes just a little. “Eddie Munson commenting on my sex life. I’ll make sure to get some when you finally do, pal.” 

Eddie tilted his head. “Careful, Steve. Might sound like an offer.” He cackled at the way Steve’s eyes widened. “Don’t worry. My standards haven’t lowered quite so catastrophically.” He bent forward, widening his eyes dramatically, whispering out, “ Yet. ” 

“Some days, I almost wish Vecna had just gotten you, man.” But they both knew it was a lie, because Steve was teasingly smiling back. 

“It’s the ‘almost’ that counts.” Eddie stood up, crossing his hands over his heart. 

“What brings you in? Miss my pretty face?” Steve asked. 

Eddie reached forward a hand, cupping Steve's chin and wiggling it back and forth. “How could anyone resist this thing?” He pulled away, slipping back into normalcy like it was nothing to him. One second a jester, the next metalhead Eddie. Decked out in his rings, his jean vest, hair looking the perfect kind of not perfect. “Just fucking bored, man. Nothing to do, and the trailer park is so fucking loud.” 

“I would kill for loud,” Steve said, unable to help himself. Eddie tilted his head, begging for explanation. “My place is just… quiet. So dead quiet. Can’t sleep.” 

“You can’t sleep…” Eddie narrowed his eyes, “because it’s too quiet?”

“Nah. Probably wouldn’t sleep anyway,” he admitted. He ran a hand through his hair, nervous at the sudden vulnerability. He waited for Eddie to laugh it off, to change the subject, to segue away from the personal. But it never came. 

“Damn. I was hoping you would tell me it got easier.” He gave a sympathetic smile, leaning forward again onto the counter so it brought them close again. “Spoils of battle, huh?” 

Steve released a wry chuckle. “Yeah, something like that.” He watched Eddie, who was playing with the rings on his hands lost in thought. Twisting them one way and then the other, his tongue peaking out for a second between his teeth—so pink. 

“What do you normally do?” Eddie asked, peeking up through his eyelashes before looking down again, retaining his stance of nonchalance. “When you can’t sleep?”

Steve shrugged. “I go and smoke a cigarette or two with Joyce. I’ve tried reading, which sucks. Movies, which are a little better. You know…” He trailed off, mind clicking in place. He had been about to offer for them to hang out, spend more time together in those endless nights instead of just seeing each other in passing or in group settings with Robin and Vickie, but to offer it alone felt too vulnerable again. That sense of danger that Steve felt on the precipice of every time he was beside Eddie. If he had a reason, though, another thing to add to the deal… then maybe it wouldn’t feel so close to his chest. 

There was a time, not too long ago, where he got his weed from Eddie Munson. Not Steve directly, of course, usually sending Tommy H or someone else who’d happily get it for him when they were already going. Steve had tried drinking, which worked sometimes to knock him out, but he hadn’t considered weed for some reason. Maybe he unconsciously knew who he’d need to ask. 

“My place is empty, and I’m up anyway,” he said. “You could always come over. Smoking weed might do the trick to knock us out.” 

Eddie eyes him suspiciously, as if Steve wasn’t finished. “You know I’m Eddie Munson, right? I’ve already tried weed. Weed is part of my balanced diet.” 

Steve fluttered his eyelashes. “But you haven’t tried it with Steve Harrington. ” He laughed at Eddie’s eye roll. “At least it’s company, right? You can sleep at mine. It’s just me there so… quiet.” 

Eddie gave him an appraising gaze, of which Steve did not fully understand, but then that million-watt smile was back. “Sure, Stevie. Don’t have to beg a man.” 

They huffed with laughter, Steve feeling a strange sort of elated. One he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Though, it was probably the threat of another empty and quiet night at his back now evaporated in front of him thanks to Eddie and the promise of weed. Of some company, for at least a little bit, to fight away the monsters. 

Robin appeared from the back, hair slightly askew. Vickie a step behind, looking all sorts of lovesick. It tugged at something in Steve’s chest, but he shoved it down. Compressed it like trash. That’s what it was, a feeling to be deposited and forgotten, thrown away to some other stretch of land. “What’d we miss?” Robin asked, eyes popping between the two of them. 

And though there shouldn’t have been anything funny about that question, having missed practically nothing (but secretly, to Steve, maybe everything), Eddie and Steve shared a quick look. Both sporting identical smirks, before bursting into another round of laughter. When Vickie stepped forward, patting down Robin’s hair, it only grew louder. 

Friendship. Steve would be eternally grateful for friendship like this. 

Steve had been home for a half hour—enough time to clean up his trash lying around the house, take a quick shower, and switch into an oversized sweater instead of the shirt he wore to work. Despite the heat and humidity outside, his house was perpetually an icebox. He’d attempted a million times to figure out the thermostat, make it more manageable, but he’d given up a long time ago. It wasn’t as if his parents couldn’t afford the bill. 

Eddie appeared with a knock at his front door just as Steve was reaching into his fridge for a beer, swooping a hand through his still damp hair. He popped the cap as he walked forward, taking a drag before opening the door. Building his courage for… well, he wasn’t sure for what exactly. 

It was just that him and Eddie didn’t normally spend much one on one time together. Sure, plenty of group settings. Or talking briefly when Steve was picking Dustin up from Dungeons & Dragons or at the shop, but this was different. 

Steve pulled open the door, and Eddie spread his arms wide. “Thought you were gonna let me sweat into a puddle out here, man.” His eyes caught on his outfit, eyebrows peaking upward. “A sweater? Steve, it’s summer. ”

“What’s wrong with my sweater?” Steve glanced down at the light gray cashmere, hanging almost beyond his wrists and certainly past his waistband. “Wait until you get inside.” 

“I’d have to be let in for that.” Eddie tilted his head. “You didn’t invite me over just to pull a prank, did you? Make me drive all the way home to my sad lil’ trailer?” 

“Of course not.” Steve shook his head. “Just trying to make sure you weren’t a vampire.” He stepped to the side, giving Eddie plenty of space to make his way through. 

Eddie took a step forward, pretending to hit an invisible wall, before he chuckled to himself and jumped through. The whole act was actually quite endearing in a way that Steve was sure no one else in the world but Eddie Munson could pull off. 

“First test passed,” Steve said, closing the door behind him. Trying at some levity as the sun began setting, sending only the last of the light from the day in through the wide windows. 

Steve used to love the sunset. Thought it was beautiful, hell, a ploy to get a girl to Skull Rock and kiss her with a background of romance. Now it was just another sort of clock reminding him that night was upon them. He shook the thought away, watching as Eddie kicked his boots off clumsily without prompting. Who knew? Eddie Munson had manors. 

“You got more of those?” Eddie asked, tilting his head toward the beer in Steve’s hand. 

“Hell yeah.” Steve turned, feeling Eddie follow him to the kitchen. Shaking him out of his brief moment of observation. He reached into the fridge and pulled a beer out, tossing it over to Eddie who caught it without hesitation. 

Then Eddie was just looking, eyes trailing around the clean lines of the kitchen and the high scoops of his ceilings. He let out a low whistle, turning around as he took a sip and scanned the place in one go. “Hell of a place, Harrington. And you weren’t kidding about the cold. You like to freeze or something?” 

Steve snorted out the edge of a laugh. “Nah. Just can never figure out the thermostat. It’s like my parents set it up specifically so they could spend a shit load of money for A/C they never use.” 

“Your parents really never here?” Eddie asked. His eyes were still turned away, looking at the stainless steel of Steve’s microwave like it was a spaceship and not something Steve made 75% of his dinners in. 

“Not really.” Steve leaned against the counter, happy to watch someone else view his place with fresh eyes. Normally, it made him nervous, flinching in ready for the judgment. But there was something amusing about Eddie’s observation, as if he was stepping into a new world and trying to take in every detail. “My dad’s always away on business, and my Mom is either with him or on some retreat. I’m pretty sure she’s just avoiding both of us, honestly.” He winced. Unsure where the words had come from. “Sorry, that was—”

“Hey, man.” Eddie reached out a hand and clapped his shoulder. “We’re friends. Friends can share shit.” He gave a little smile that left Steve returning one of his own, and then Eddie was reaching into his pocket and pulling out a baggie of weed. “Even the good shit.” 

Trust Eddie to find a way to bring Steve back to comfort, accepting as Eddie tugged him toward the living room and they both plopped down on opposite sides of the long couch. Eddie took another drink of his beer before setting to work, turning toward the coffee table to pack a joint. “But that sucks,” he said, lining the paper without turning his head. “Don’t know why people have kids they don’t want to give a shit about.” 

Steve could understand that, maybe, Eddie wasn’t just talking about him anymore. He wondered why Eddie lived with his uncle, had never learned that secret, but he didn’t want to push. Maybe when the night went on longer, when more time had passed. 

“I’d never do that,” Steve agreed. 

“You already proved that,” Eddie said. He brought the joint up to his mouth, licking the paper, before wrapping it. At Steve’s raised brow, Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Dude, you have like six kids already. They worship you. Do you know the shit they say about you during the campaigns?” Eddie readjusted his shoulders, as if getting into character. “ Steve is just the best, drives us everywhere. Oh Steve, he’s a badass. Savior of the world. Steve Harrington, best man alive and with the best hair to boot.” 

Steve laughed. “I highly doubt any of those munchkins said the words to boot. ” 

Eddie shrugged. “My word against yours, Steve-O.” He lit the end of the blunt, tipping off the edge of the paper into a nearby candle before pulling it to his lips. After he’d released a long stretch of smoke and taken his second hit, he passed it to Steve. “Might not be World’s Greatest Dad, but at the very least World’s Greatest Babysitter. I’d argue you’re more of a Dad to those little shits than any of their real parents.” 

“That…” Steve took a hit, relishing in the pull of smoke into his lungs. It had been a while since he smoked, certainly not the last few months, but he relished in the familiar feeling of a first hit, “might very sadly be true. What about you?” 

“What about me?” Eddie asked. He’d repositioned himself now, back leaning against the arm of the couch as their legs met in the middle. When Eddie bent forward, his hair briefly curtained in front of his face, hiding his expression to pull back and reveal Eddie—joint in his mouth and taking a puckering pull. 

Steve hit Eddie’s foot with his own, jolting his eyes to him. “You’re practically Dustin’s dad, too. Probably Mike’s, at this point. Half the time when they’re talking about needing advice they want to ask you, and they say that shit right in front of me. Rude, honestly.” 

That elicited a real smile out of Eddie, hitting at something that Steve wished he could understand. “Well, frankly, I wouldn’t take advice from you, either.” 

“Hey!” Steve hit out his leg, kicking into Eddie’s thigh. He laughed in response, throwing his hands up as if to say what did you expect. “I give great advice.” 

“Oh yeah?” Eddie raised a brow. “Like, smoke weed if you can’t sleep. ”

Steve put his own hands up, total innocence. “Hey, I’m already feeling ten times better. Would I give this advice to 15-year-olds? Hell no. Doesn’t mean it isn’t right.” 

Eddie smiled, stretching a foot out that he tapped against Steve’s thigh. Steve didn’t understand why it shot something warm through him, too. Right up his thigh and into his chest, constricting there for a moment before releasing the pressure. “Glad you’re feeling better, Stevie.” 

“And thank you,” Steve said, holding the joint up, “for your contribution in making it possible.” 

They both released a sincere laugh, something soft and light, before Eddie was reaching for the TV controller and blaring the thing on. Steve thought about complaining about him putting MTV on, but he figured that was an argument for later. The weed was already rolling through his system, starting to ease his muscles and his mind. He readjusted himself on the couch, facing the TV instead of Eddie, and Eddie did the same. Both of their feet propped up on the coffee table in front of them as they passed the joint back and forth until it was finished. 

Once Steve was properly high, like really high, he stood up to move toward the cabinets around the TV. He was floating a little, his body feeling lighter and tipping more easily. As if sensing his presence was needed, Eddie met him. “What do you think about a movie?” Steve asked. 

“Sounds about right.” Eddie trailed his fingers over the VHS’s, seemingly amazed by the quantity and diversity. His fingers stopped on a spine, yanking it out with little finesse and holding it up triumphantly. “I want to watch this.” 

“You want to watch The Goonies ?” Steve asked. He was amazed he hadn’t plucked out a horror or drama, something dark like he knew he liked to watch (he’d had to pick up the kids enough times after Eddie explained the plot of some Horror movie, begging Steve to rent it for them for their next movie night, to know his taste). 

“Lighthearted,” Eddie said, as if it was common sense. “What did you expect? Eddie the Freak to pick out some kind of freak show?” 

“Dude. You like freaky shit.” Steve didn’t say it with malice, just the truth. 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Well, tonight… we’re going adventure and comedy. And who’s to say, the night is still young. I’d rather spook you right before bed.” He wiggled the fingers of his free hand in front of Steve’s face, making a nonverbal ooo with his lips.

“Evil,” Steve whispered, but he popped the movie into the player anyway. 

“Shit,” Eddie said, and Steve turned just in time to see him shiver. “It’s fucking freezing, man.” 

“Sorry, I should have warned you.” Steve winced. “Want to borrow something?” 

“If it’s not, like, an imposition. ” Eddie’s head bobbed back and forth, shoulders shifting with what Steve almost thought was discomfort. 

“Imposition. Now that’s a buzzword.” Steve clapped a hand on Eddie’s upper arm. “Not a problem at all. Why don’t you loot around the kitchen for some snacks while I go grab you something? Go wild.” 

Eddie nodded, already moving into action, and Steve did the same after telling him to pause the VHS first. Steve took the stairs two at a time, walking the long stretch of the hallway until he got to his bedroom, the last on the right. His eyes scanned his closet, wondering what Eddie would hate the least. Part of him wanted to give him some sort of pastel sweater, just to see the look Eddie would give him, but instead Steve was drawn to one of his old basketball sweatshirts. Gray, comfortable, nondescript enough Eddie shouldn’t hate it. 

It wasn’t until he was passing it back to Eddie downstairs, his eyes rolling as he saw what it was, that Steve thought about his last name spread across the back. Eddie shifted out of his vest, tossing it onto a nearby chair, and lifted the sweatshirt above his head. He pulled the hair that had gotten stuck in the collar out, now dangling over the emblazoned letters. Steve felt a strange tug, a weird near possession, at seeing Eddie in it. He had no clue what that feeling was, maybe it was just the weed, but when Eddie turned and showed off the look it brought a string of elation wrapping through his chest. 

“You look good, Eds.” Steve smiled, hands on his waist as if he was scolding his children instead of watching his friend model his very own sweatshirt. 

“Eds, huh?” Eddie smiled. “Think I could pass for a jock, now?” 

Steve considered it, eyeing his smudged eyeliner, the rings still decorating his fingers, the long, dark hair and ripped jeans. “Yeah, probably not. But one of the team girlfriends for sure.” 

Eddie flipped his hair back, eyeing Steve down the line of his nose. “You move fast, Harrington. Didn’t even ask me to go steady first.” 

“Ha,” he said drily, plopping himself back down on the couch. Eddie had managed to scrounge up a few good snacks, even going so far as to pop a bag of popcorn. “Movie time.” He grabbed the bag of popcorn, moving it to his lap, where Eddie dug a fist into it as he simultaneously reached for the controller to press play. 

They were only about twenty minutes in when Eddie was standing back up, returning to the kitchen and bringing two more beers with him. He passed one to Steve, and then he dipped down to roll another joint. Steve attempted to keep his eyes trained forward on the movie, but there was something methodological about the way he rolled the joint that Steve found his high brain enjoying the movement of. The way it was second nature, practiced movement, skilled hands moving in rhythm. 

When Eddie offered it to him, Steve just toasted and took a drink. “Guest first.” 

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice, and he lit up as Steve leaned back into the couch. It was nice, actually, to fall into the movements of a movie like this. Where the big bad didn't seem quite as scary, where these kids reminded him in a fond way of his own bag of weirdos. He laughed, and he turned to see Eddie staring at him, holding out the joint. His eyes big and round, so weirdly infecting. Steve cleared his throat, reaching forward to grab it. 

He took a hit, ignoring the feeling of Eddie’s eyes. Keeping his own trained forward. 

“Data is Dustin,” Steve said at one point, and Eddie’s head threw back with infectious laughter as he agreed. 

By the end of The Goonies they were properly crossfaded, feeling the high with the combination of a few more beers. Eddie popped up to the movies, fulfilling his promise when he threw on The Shining. 

Steve was gratefully feeling the beginning of a sense of sleep. There was a weed-induced drowsiness playing at the edge of his mind, a heaviness in his limbs from the beer, and he barely noticed at first when Eddie’s thigh collided with his own. The two had shifted closer at some point, Steve now aware of the feeling of Eddie’s hair somehow tickling his own neck. As Eddie started to dip, head coming perilously close to Steve’s shoulder only a half hour in, Steve jolted. Not consciously, as if his body was sensing something he couldn’t yet figure out, and Eddie did, too. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe we should head up?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Might be a good idea.” He jumped up to his feet, as if he hadn’t been near sleep mere seconds earlier, and held out his hands for Steve. 

Steve took them gratefully, happy to be tugged upward. They overshot the force needed, Steve tipping into Eddie’s chest for a second before dipping back with a laugh. They turned the TV off before switching the lights off too, and Eddie followed Steve up the stairs. 

“So, like,” Steve started as they’d reached the top, “there’s plenty of rooms to choose from, or you could—” He paused in both words and step, feeling Eddie pause behind him. Eddie took a step up, now by his side. 

“Or I could?” he prompted. 

“I mean,” Steve said as he shuffled, “you could always sleep in mine, too. Whatever you like best.” 

Eddie tilted his head, eyes scanning Steve’s face, and Steve wished he had some kind of decoder for that look. Wish he could understand what was rumbling through Eddie’s head as they stared at one another. “You want me to stay with you, Steve?” There was the edge of teasing on the words, but it was also kinda genuine. As if Eddie was walking cautiously. 

“It's just, I mean, sometimes it helps to have someone close, y’know? With the nightmares and shit, but whatever works.” He fumbled, hands doing way too much as his eyes turned back toward the rest of the hallway and away from those piercing eyes. “Whatever.” 

“I’ll stay with you,” Eddie said decisively. Steve was grateful. Grateful that Eddie could sense that maybe Steve wanted it but couldn’t speak it aloud. Grateful that Eddie made it easy. Grateful for Eddie, period. Being here. Being himself. 

They continued their trek toward Steve’s bedroom, slipping in and shutting the door behind them. Steve grabbed him a pair of old basketball shorts, which Eddie took with a mumbled thanks. He turned, giving some privacy, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and pull off the sweatshirt. 

He appraised his chest in the mirror, eyes scanning where he still had scarred skin on his stomach that would likely be there forever. Reminding him what exactly being close to death meant. His fingers trailed the raised, red flesh. His eyes closed seemingly on their own accord, the memory flashing behind his eyelids of struggling and struggling, making no difference, and then looking up to see Eddie, Nancy, and Robin. How it had felt like a Godsend. 

A knock came on the door, and Steve’s eyes jolted open. “You drown in there, bud?” 

“Co- Coming!” he called. Good job, Steve. Very convincing. 

When he opened the door, Eddie was leaning against the door frame. He was still wearing the sweatshirt, which hung a little shorter over his more lithe body than Steve’s own. In his basketball shorts, Steve could see tattoos he’d never been privy to. They were spotted over Eddie’s calves and shins, and he wanted to catalog them all, but that felt weird. He turned his head back up. 

“You going to let me in, Steve?” he asked, voice more of a whisper this close. 

He didn’t have the words to answer that, so he stepped aside and let him through. Fuck, that weed must have really got him. “Extra toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink!” he called, coming only briefly to his senses before flopping into his bed. He shifted to the side where he normally slept and slipped under the covers. 

It was another minute or so before Eddie reappeared, and there was something so… soft about him in Steve’s clothes that left Steve’s mouth a little dry. It was still distinctly Eddie—incapable of erasing that bit of edge—but it was Eddie watered down. A private sort of Eddie. 

Eddie was clearly unfazed by any of it, falling on the open side of the bed. He turned on his side, jokingly curling his body into the fetal position. “Gonna read me a bedtime story, Babysitter Steve?” 

Steve pushed his chest, Eddie giggling like a child as he pushed onto his back and raised an arm above his head instead. “Fuck off, Munson.” 

“Fine, no fun.” He puffed out a long breath, some of his hair floating up and down with the air. “Thanks for letting me stay.” 

“Anytime.” He found he meant it. This was the most at peace he’d been at night in a long time, and it was only partially because he was not entirely sober. Nope, most of that he dedicated to Munson himself. “Thanks for staying.” 

Eddie sighed wistfully. “If I knew I’d get into your bed, I would have invited myself over sooner.” 

“You are… a total jackass.” 

“Yeah.” Eddied laughed again, this time quieter, shaded with the beginnings of sleep. “Night, Steve.” 

Eddie’s breath was already slowing down, evening out, when Steve said, “Night, Eddie.” He got a small hum in response, and then, miraculously, he felt sleep grasp at him too. 

Steve woke to a shuffling body beside him, unsure of the hour but aware it was still too dark to be anywhere near waking time. It quickly became apparent the shuffling was Eddie, lost in some sort of nightmare. He was still on his back, but his body tossed to the left and right, one of his arms swinging out and nearly colliding into Steve. There were soft mumbles coming from his mouth, none of them distinguishable, and Steve felt his chest constrict—the whole situation was frustratingly familiar. 

“Eddie,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to Eddie’s chest in an attempt at grounding. It would have felt more normal to rub his back, but that wasn’t an option, and his arms were too jittery to get a grab on. “Hey, Eddie. It’s just a bad dream.” 

Then Eddie’s lips opened, and it wasn’t a scream exactly that released from between them, but something close enough to feral it made Steve press hard into Eddie, tuck himself closer so his body was nearly aligned with the right side of Eddie’s. Bringing himself in contact. “Come on, Eddie. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” 

Eddie’s body jolted, almost like an electric shock, and then Eddie was awake. Panting, eyes wide and wild in a way that was similar to the memory of a broken bottle against Steve’s throat, and then he reached for Steve. There wasn’t much to grab onto beside skin in Steve’s shirtless state, so Eddie’s hand came to his upper arm, the one attached still to Eddie’s chest, and his head tilted to the side and tucked itself nearly into Steve’s collarbone. Steve let it happen, resting his chin on top of Eddie’s wild curls. 

“Sh. I’m here,” Steve said. It felt wrong, somehow, to keep saying it’ll be okay when he was a prime example of how it never really became okay. Just the normal. What you’re painfully used to. “I’m here. It’s a nightmare.” 

“So fucked,” Eddie mumbled into Steve’s skin between hurried breaths. Once his breathing evened out a little, his hand loosened on Steve’s arm but didn't entirely let go. Eddie pulled back only slightly, the two of them still connected at several points of contact, but now Steve could see Eddie’s eyes again. They’d lessened in their magnitude, but they still held a familiar echo of haunting. “It was Chrissy. I was seeing Chrissy again. Then it was… well it was more than just Chrissy. A lot of people just… fucking cracking like glowsticks.”

Steve released a humorous breath. “Apt description.” He shifted his thumb back and forth as reassurance that he wasn’t taking the words lightly. “But we got that fucker. He isn’t coming back. You made sure of that.” 

Eddie flopped onto his back, finally letting go of Steve, and yet Steve’s hand was still on his chest. Why was his hand still on his chest? Steve was scared to break the contact in case Eddie needed it, which it seemed like he might. “Nah, man. I didn’t make sure of shit. That was all your fucking Scooby Gang. I’m a runner, you know that.” 

Steve bent closer, making sure Eddie could see his face. “You didn’t run in the end, Eddie. Plus, surviving shouldn’t be given shit. Don’t you ever, I don’t know, save up your fucking spells and shit in D&D or whatever? Until you can make sure you take down the big guy?” 

Eddie laughed, eyes scanning Steve’s face. “How do you spend so much time around those kids and still understand so little about D&D?” 

“Hey, am I wrong ?” 

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Not necessarily.” His bottom lip was pulled in by his teeth, and he worked it between them for a second before a small smile sprouted. “Steve Harrington. Consoling me after a nightmare. Who woulda thought?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I hate when you say my full name like I’m some sort of, I don’t fucking know, mythological character.”

“Sorta are, man. The man, the myth, the legend. Steve Harrington.” Eddie’s eyes were scanning again, and Steve wondered what his own face looked like in return, still half-bent over Eddie. “You don’t really feel real sometimes.” 

That stuttered something in Steve, unsure what the fuck to do with that. What to think of that. “More sleep, Eddie. You’re sounding delirious.” 

Eddie shifted to his side, Steve’s hand finally evacuated from his sweatshirt-clad chest, curling further into himself as he brought the sheets further up and above his shoulders. “Sure. Maybe I’ll get to hold you next when you wake up from a nightmare.” It was probably meant to be a joke, but the words fall flat and tired. Steve readjusted back down, but before he’d fully settled, Eddie’s hand came to his wrist. 

Steve didn’t mention it, didn’t bring any attention to it, just scooted so they were facing each other and their joined arms were between them. Eddie fell asleep surprisingly quickly, or at the least pretended to, and Steve stared for too long. He watched Eddie’s face, looking for warning signs of another bad dream, and he fell asleep like that. Scanning Eddie’s face between drowsy blinks. 

The next morning, Eddie was gone by the time Steve awoke. Which was all sorts of surprising because Steve assumed that Eddie might be the sort to lay around, sleep in. Then he remembered why exactly Eddie was over at all, which, yeah, neither of them slept that well anymore. Hell, the sun was just peaking over the horizon as Steve pushed himself up. This was the most he’d slept in weeks, likely thanks to Eddie and that weed, but his body still didn’t know how to sleep in. 

Steve’s morning went slowly—getting ready for work, cleaning up a few things in the living room from last night, and when he got back to the kitchen Steve saw a slip of paper. In a terrible chicken scratch, Eddie had left a note. 

Sorry to dine and dash, man. Promised to help my uncle with something this morning. 

I promise I’m not usually this kind of guy. I’ll make you breakfast and everything next time after a night so sweet.

Eddie

Steve put it down, laughing to himself. Okay, Eddie. Fair enough. 

The next few days passed listlessly and without Eddie. Steve worked a few shifts, had a day off where he spent most of it in Mike Wheeler’s basement while Nancy and Jonathan sat beside him, the children (though, with the way they were sprouting up it started feeling strange to still refer to them as that) doing whatever the fuck they do on the floor as they bickered. 

“They grow up so fast,” Steve joked, throwing his arms around Jonathan who sat beside him. 

“You can say that again,” Nancy said, a smile alight on her face. She turned her body, bringing a leg up that pushed into Jonathan’s thigh so she could get a better look at the two of them. “We should have an adult night soon. I feel like we haven’t been seeing as much of you lately, Steve.” 

Steve shrugged. “Capitalism, baby.” Jonathan snorted. “I’d be in, though. Sure Robin, Vickie, and Eddie would be grateful for a reason to be debaucherous together for a night.”

“You've been smoking a lot with Eddie, lately?” Jonathan asked. 

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Where’d you hear that?” 

Jonathan narrowed his eyes. “Where do you think I get my weed from now?” 

“Right. Not a lot. Just the other night.” Steve bent closer. “Why, are you jealous I didn’t come to you, man? I promise I still love you.” 

Now it was Jonathan’s turn to roll his eyes. “Not exactly. He can have your weird ass, dude. Though, you’re always welcome to smoke with me and listen to some music. You know that.” 

“I think Jonathan is mostly just saying we’re glad you have someone to hang out with when the rest of us are preoccupied,” Nancy supplied with a smile. Which was sweet, but Steve heard the implied rest of that sentence. Or what preoccupied really meant—all those couples and friends, Steve the third wheel who’d self-ejected to avoid self-punishment. “Check with the others, though. I think my parents are leaving this weekend for a work trip, mom’s tagging along, so we could do it here.” 

Which brought Steve back to the present, remembering suddenly he was supposed to ask Robin about that so she could ask Vickie. She was propped up on the counter, eating through a pack of Twizzlers and turning the television volume up despite the several customers loitering about and looking at her strangely. 

“Hey,” Steve said, hitting his shoulder into Robin’s leg as he saddled up beside her. “You want to have a party with Jonathan and Nancy this weekend? Her parents are out of town. Vickie can come, obviously.” 

“Life is so weird,” Robin said, swallowing the last of her current Twizzler rope. “Like, telling us two years ago that all of us would be hanging out? What a weird mix of people. Life moves fast.” 

“Too fast, sometimes. I’ll even invite Eddie, which just adds to the weird. Have you seen him recently, by the way?” 

Robin shrugged. “He was in yesterday when you were off. Could always hunt him down at his place.” 

Which, yeah, sure, Steve always knew that was an option. But he’d gotten so used to seeing him casually that it had never needed to come up. Honestly, not seeing Eddie for four whole days after spending an entire night with him was out of the usual. Steve was surprised he hadn’t just shown up, talked shit about their movie collection or Steve’s hair or made some passing jokes at Robin for amusement. 

“Aww, you miss him,” Robin teased. She poked at his cheek, bending over. “Your face is filled with sweet longing. This is adorable.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Steve huffed. “I’m going to actually do my job.” Which just left Robin cackling behind him and wasn’t that all sorts of annoying. 

It only took a little debate with himself after work to drive to the trailer park and attempt to catch Eddie and ask about his weekend plans. It was that familiar feeling—of potentially being a burden—that caused the apprehension. As if his friend would really care he dropped by unannounced. Steve shook himself out of it on the drive over, and when he arrived Eddie and his uncle were already outside. 

Steve stepped out, squinting in the sunlight. Eddie was in shorts and a band t-shirt that was cut at the arms, revealing even more of those tattoos that Steve got his eyes caught on. Eddie was usually so covered up, and it was strange to see him in this setting. As he stepped closer, he noticed the sheen of sweat covering his forehead, making his bangs stick to his skin. 

“Hey!” Steve called as he grew closer. 

Both Wayne and Eddie turned, waving a hand. There was a sheet of metal leaned in front of them, clearly working on something, and Steve stepped closer. 

“Hi, Eddie. Mr. Munson,” he greeted again. 

Wayne waved him off with a grunt. “Wayne’s fine, Steve. You came at the right time. We could use another pair of arms.”

“Wayne, does Steve look prepared for manual labor?” Eddie asked, reaching out a fist to punch at Steve’s arm. 

Steve looked down at himself. Yeah, he wasn’t wrong. A pair of jeans and a polo from work. “It’s fine.” He waved it off. “Would love to help. What do you need?” 

Wayne explained, gruffly but not unkindly, about the puncture in the ceiling from a fallen tree branch during the recent storm. They were trying to lift it up to the roof so they could nail it in place, but it was difficult with just the two of them. 

“How sturdy is the roof?” Steve asked, looking between them. His hands had returned to his waist, the natural stance for when he was preparing for a job. “‘Cause one of us could go up and pull it from above. If you got some rope even better.” 

Wayne tossed the idea around his head if his squinted expression was anything to go by. Then he gave a quick nod. “Eddie, you climb up. You’re probably the lightest of us, but tread carefully.”

Which was how Steve found himself lifting up a sheet of metal while Eddie Munson tugged it up from above, standing beside his uncle. The thought from earlier, about how quickly life changed, ran through his head the whole time. With the extra set of hands, though, it didn’t take too long to get it into position. Then Eddie was yelling down about getting the hammer and nails, and Steve and Wayne held it in place the best they could from below. 

Steve held the ladder as Eddie crawled back down, though he only climbed a step or two before jumping the rest. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Thanks, man. You definitely didn’t have to do that.” 

“Come in and have a beer or something,” Wayne offered. 

Eddie squinted. “Don’t you have to head out? Bobby’s probably already wondering where you are.” 

“Shit, yeah.” Wayne nodded. “Doesn’t mean you boys don’t deserve it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie. Thanks again, Steve.” Then he went inside to collect his stuff. 

“Your uncle is pretty nice,” Steve said. 

Eddie smiled. “Yeah, he’s a good dude. Probably helps that you just offered free labor. You might want to be careful about that, or he’ll be calling you up all the time.” 

Steve chuckled. “Worse things than someone thinking you’re helpful, I guess.” 

“Come on.” Eddie ushered him inside. “You do deserve a beer after that.” Wayne passed them with a head nod before Eddie and Steve were alone again, now in the quiet of Eddie’s trailer. 

Though, Eddie hadn’t been wrong. There was a lot of noise coming from around the park. Kids playing in the sun, someone yelling after a cat, the revving of motors. 

“Fuck, it’s hot.” Eddie tossed Steve a beer, then he leaned against his counter and wiped at the sweat on his brow as he took a hearty pull. “What’d you want, by the way?” 

“Oh, just thought I’d drive past in case you needed someone to lift something heavy. I should probably head out, actually, seeing as that’s done.” Steve pointed his thumb back, and then he smiled as he took his own drink. Eddie gave a quick laugh before dipping toward the sink and putting his whole head under. Steve was caught for a second at the way he squeezed the water out of his hair and when he stood back up, the way the droplets ran down the side of his face and neck. He cleared his throat. “But actually, I wanted to see if you’d be into a little party this weekend. Nancy’s parents are gone, so you know. Us, them, Robin, Vickie.” 

“What else do I got going on? Why the hell not.” Eddie smiled. “But I swear if you’re controlling the music, then I’m out.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “We’ll leave it to Jonathan then. You guys shouldn’t be too off base with your tastes.” With the task at hand done in front of him, Steven suddenly didn’t know what to do. He took another drink of his beer, thankful for the cold of it when the heat was still hitting his body from all sides. His eyes trailed around the trailer, not that he hadn’t been here before, but it was the first under such normal circumstances. 

It was small, sure, and sorta dirty, but it also felt lived in. So different from his house that nearly always looked like it was ready for an open house showing. That’s why he loved the Byer’s place so much—that feeling of chaos from lives lived, people rushing past each other, drawings and pictures that showed people had a home there. 

“Not much but home,” Eddie said. Steve turned, seeing Eddie watching him with what he would almost assume was a sense of nerves. “I’m done for the night so you could hang out if you wanted. Unless you weren’t lying and really do gotta go find some other heavy shit to lift for your male ego.” 

“My male ego is perfectly intact.” Steve clapped his chest. “Thanks, man. Yeah, if you don’t mind. I’ll definitely need food at some point, though. Just got off of work.” 

Eddie jumped out of his kitchen, spreading his arms wide. “We can absolutely accommodate such a request at the Munson Abode. Short on the caviar, I’m afraid, but absolutely stocked on frozen pizzas.” 

“Damn, not even like a gold-encrusted salmon or something?” Steve whistled. “That’s a shame.” 

Eddie stared at him for a beat, slow smile brimming, hands coming to his hips and placing his weight further on one side so that his left hip jutted out just a little bit. Steve didn’t know what this look meant, shuffling a little in response, but Eddie just kept looking. He shook his head, one hand coming off his hip to point it at Steve, accentuating each word. “I like you, Steve Harrington.”

Steve bowed his head to save face, hiding the light blush he could feel rushing to his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah.” He looked up through his lashes, ready to look down but he caught Eddie’s still on Steve’s face. That smile still steadily in place. “I like you too, Eddie Munson.” 

Eddie stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Steve’s neck, pulling him into his side and ushering him down the hallway as they both practically giggled like little kids. “Let me smoke you out, Stevie boy.” Eddie patted Steve’s chest and plopped down on his bed next to the small end table that held a lamp, a stack of magazines topped with several guitar picks, and a bong. Like, the tallest bong Steve had ever seen (not that he’d seen a lot of bongs in his life, so really who was he to speak on it). 

Eddie reached into the drawer and pulled out a glass jar and his grinder. He took buds out of the jar, ripping them and placing them into the metal teeth. For a moment he paused, looking up. “You can pick something for us to listen to, man.” He nodded toward the record collection on his other wall. 

Yeah, probably should, since standing in the doorway and staring at Eddie because he liked the way his knowledgeable hands worked weed was fucking creepy. When did Steve become so spacey? Maybe Dustin was onto something. His eyes scanned the records, flipping through. He didn’t know half of these bands, only a few through the shirts Eddie wore. 

“Aha!” he called, spinning around and holding up the record. Eddie groaned as Steve went to place it on the turntable. 

“Come on, dude. There’s so many options in there, and that’s what you go with?” 

“Get a better collection, and I’ll make better choices.” Steve delicately placed the needle on, listening to the scratch of the opening chords and moving his hips just a little bit. “ Rumours . This is a good record, man.” 

“It’s not… bad, obviously.” Eddie used the bottom of his lighter to pack the bowl tighter, then bent forward and lit and pulled. He held it for a second before releasing the smoke. His demeanor seemed to instantly melt. He took another deep breath, as if collecting himself, then held it out to Steve. 

After Steve had grabbed it, Eddie repositioned and leaned his back against the wall and stretched his legs out. Steve shuffled over, crawling over the bed as best he could with a bong and lighter in his hands before sitting the same. 

Eddie leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a beat and shuffling just a little bit with the rhythm of Dreams as it came on. “The best part of this album, though, is the backstory. I mean, the whole band just fighting and breaking up and barely being able to stand each other and then… coming out with this? Like none of that shit mattered, or maybe it was all that mattered, but in the end the art is what lasts. The art is timeless. Fucking music, man.” 

Steve was entranced during Eddie’s monologue, watching his throat bob as the words rushed out. There was manic energy to the way he spoke, there always was with Eddie, but it was a calmer version. The passion pushing through the words. He took a hit to get himself to look away, to calm his own muscles. “That fucking speech was art.” Eddie scoffed in reply. “No, seriously. I wish I was as passionate about anything as you are about music.” 

Eddie turned his head, opening his eyes and giving Steve a look. “You care about people more than anyone I’ve ever met. Even Dustin, who makes it hard sometimes.” Steve snorted. Eddie hit his shoulder into his. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s passion, baby.” 

Steve brought a hand up to his nape, scratching at it before running a hand through hair. “Thanks, but like… I can’t just care about people as a job. My future is a big blank page.” 

“I think you probably can,” Eddie said. He brought up a hand, listing on his fingers. “Babysitter, nanny, teacher, social worker, nurse, police—though, like, fuck the police.” Steve gave him a look and Eddie raised his hands up, relenting. “Hopper is ex-police. He’s reformed. But see? Plenty of options.” 

“I don’t want to do, like, any of that.” Steve smiled. “But thanks.” 

Eddie tipped a fake hat. “My pleasure, sir.” He slapped Steve’s chest, just enough out of nowhere for Steve to lurch. “Come on. Lay back and enjoy the music as we get properly blasted.” They readjusted the pillows, getting themselves at a 45 degree angle so they could still kinda smoke the bong as they passed it back and forth. “I promise to turn the oven on for the pizza when we flip the record.” 

Then they were both listening to the music, only opening their eyes when they felt a nudge of glass at their shoulder. They finished the bowl, setting it aside for now, and then Steve felt Eddie's fingers at his wrist. Not grabbing it or rubbing circles, just tapping with the beat of the music. A warm, constant pressure that grounded Steve. 

Static filled the room when the last song finished, and Eddie hopped up and disappeared into the kitchen. Steve propped himself up, though he was high enough for it to feel like quite the task, and floated his way over to the record and flipped it. He paused to scan all the posters in his room—such a different world than his own—and fell face first back into the bed. Not bothering to flip over as the music washed over him because what was the point?

“We alive there, Stevie?” Eddie hopped back onto the mattress butt first, shifting to grab the bong again and load another bowl. Steve perked up, wondering where Eddie, regular consumer of cannabis, landed on the high scale right about now. Because Steve was feeling it. He stopped his movements to watch Steve, a fond smile playing at those lips. Steve watched them spread, amazed how someone had so many smiles to give. Someone who’d been through shit and, sure yeah he was occasionally an asshole, but still held such exuberance. Was able to share some of that joy. “Steeeeve.” 

“Sorry, yeah, alive.” His eyes snapped back to Eddie’s, and Eddie was giving him one of those looks again. The type Steve still didn’t understand how to break down. “Oven on?” 

Eddie nodded slowly, eyes catching for another second before he returned to business. Steve used the lack of observance to finally look at his tattoos, turning and starting by staring at his shins. They were all small, slightly spread out, but they all felt so Eddie. As if Eddie had planted art straight from his heart and personality onto his body. 

Steve dipped closer, unconsciously bringing a finger to a tattoo below his right knee of a snake. For a brief moment Eddie froze, but when Steve looked up he was still working on the weed as if he didn’t notice, didn’t care. Steve resumed his movements, trailing along the tail before moving his fingers to a guitar down his shin. He walked the strings before rounding the body. There was another one, right above his ankle of a skeleton hand, reaching up. He placed the pad of his thumb onto it and his other fingers seemed to wrap themselves around the ankle. For a breath, he just held on. Felt the heat of Eddie below his hand and his leg hairs tickling at his palm. 

“Having fun?” Eddie asked, but his voice was quieter, slower, nearly inquisitive. 

Without releasing his hold, Steve looked toward him. “They’re, uh- cool.” 

What was it about Eddie Munson’s fucking eyes? So big and dark, unreadable and yet impossible to look away from. He licked his lips, and Steve’s eyes flipped to the movement for only a glance before he returned them to Eddie’s. There was a flicker of something in there now, a sparkle, and then Eddie released a huff of a laugh, shaking his head, and looked back to the bong. 

“What?” Steve asked, finally letting go and scooting further up. 

“Nothing.” Eddie held out the bong, but Steve shook his head no, and he took another pull. “Just, no one has ever looked at my tattoos that close before. Didn’t realize how…” He readjusted his shoulders, his jaw, “ intimate it would be.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Steve.” Eddie shook his head. “It’s fine. I don’t mind you looking at them.” He tilted his head to the side, tongue peaking out. “Nice for my physical form to be appreciated.” 

Steve smiled, and then the buzzer for the oven went off. He joined him in the kitchen this time as he put the pizza in, and they talked about nothing as they waited for it to be done. Sending jokes back and forth, getting into dumb arguments for the sake of it. Eddie passed him a Coke from the fridge, somehow sensing that was what he’d want to drink with the pizza, and Steve thought about how observant Eddie was. Cataloging shit about the people he cared about just for the sake of it, like how Dustin liked 3 Musketeers and Eddie would sometimes just have them lying around in his bag. Totally incidental.

There was something amazing about realizing Steve was included in that small, intimate circle. People Eddie Munson cares about. 

They watched the rest of The Shining while they ate, Eddie rolling his eyes every time Steve made a comment about it not even being that scary. Nearing the end, Eddie rotated on the couch and spread his legs out and landed his calves in Steve’s lap. Honestly, Steve didn’t really care, didn’t even think about it when he let his right hand rest there. And if his thumb started drifting mindlessly, unconsciously trailing the guitar tattoo again, it never even occurred to him whether that was weird or not. His body was high and happy, and he was going with the motherfucking flow for a change. 

It was only when the movie was ending, and Steve looked over at Eddie blissfully content with Steve’s hand on his calf, that Steve considered how ridiculous it was that he was this comfortable being physical with Eddie and still knew less about him than he’d learned about Steve. Which sorta made Steve feel like shit, honestly. 

“Eddie?” Steve asked as the question from the other day worked its way back into his head. Eddie hummed in response. “Why do you live with your uncle?” 

Eddie’s head turned slowly, eyebrows clenching together and then smoothing with his thumb and forefinger as he rubbed his forehead. “Huh.” 

“You don’t have to answer, just curious.” 

“You mean, you want the whole dramatic,” he said, emphasizing the word dramatic with spirit fingers, “spiel? Your funeral, Harrington.” He squeezed out a tiny smile, in case Steve was concerned he was poking at something sore. Though, Steve suspected he might be, just a little. He thought about the way Eddie had said the last night they hung out, Don’t know why people have kids they don’t want to give a shit about.  

Eddie shrugged. “Not that good of a story, honestly. Mom ditched a million years ago, and dearest Dad started a new cookie cutter family. You can imagine I didn’t, let’s say, fit the mold of their happy picket fence lifestyle. He calls on Christmas, and I haven’t seen him since I was… maybe, thirteen? He’s three towns over, and I haven’t seen him in seven years.” Eddie scoffed, peering up at Steve through his lashes. An angry turn of his mouth complimenting his words. “What a piece of shit. Wayne offered to take me in. He’s always been an outsider. So now we’re just two freaks together. Voila!”

Steve’s teeth grit against one another, a fire roaring to life in his chest. Fuck parents who didn’t care. Who didn’t understand having a kid meant loving them at their best and their worst, for exactly who they were. For putting their shitty expectations in front of them like a cookie cutter their kids were meant to jump into. It was all bullshit. 

His mind flashed to Nancy for a minute, bullshit. But that memory didn’t sting anymore quite the way it used to, thinking that having someone pretend to love you might be worse than telling it to you straight. Steve didn’t have it in him to be a second option. 

“Fuck. Him.” Steve all but growled, and Eddie’s eyes widened slightly. He was all in, watching Steve like the last few minutes of the Super Bowl. Well, if Eddie were into that sort of thing. “He can’t possibly realize what he fucking gave up. You’d have to be an idiot to give you up.” 

Eddie’s lips twisted, as if he was attempting to clamp down a smile, and then he let out a low breath. The tension in his body dissipated yet again. He threw his forearm over his eyes, leaning back, and he nudged his leg into Steve. “Thank you.” Neither moved for a beat, Steve watching the long planes of Eddie’s arm. 

Then Eddie, like he so often did, rose obnoxiously to his feet without warning. He pulled Steve up, surprisingly strong, and twirled him in a circle before Steve could tell what was happening. 

“A bedtime bowl awaits, my liege.” Eddie did a little jump, shuffling an arm out in the direction of the bedroom. 

Drily, Steve said. “You are… such a freak, man.” But the wink that followed the words was reassurance that Eddie being a freak might very well be one of the reasons Steve couldn’t get enough of him. That was Steve’s reasoning anyway. 

When they got to the bedroom, Eddie threw Steve a pair of his own shorts. “Returning the favor,” he called, before setting himself up to pack another bowl. “No spare toothbrushes at the Chez Munson, little lady, but there’s some mouthwash you could swish around.” He waved a hand, and that was enough for Steve to go off and get ready for bed. 

He returned to Eddie half under the covers, bong held in his hands, shirt off but otherwise looking much the same. The sight of that skin made Steve pause, jeans and polo shirt still held in his hand, and his eyes took his chance. He finally got a full view of all the tattoos hiding there, and he took a mental picture. 

“You alright, dude?” Eddie looked at him with big doe eyes, bending forward to light the bowl and take a pull, but his eyes didn’t leave Steve as he pulled the column full of smoke and then ripped it up into his mouth. Casual as anything.

And, fuck. Steve had been aware loosely that he considered Eddie Munson sort of attractive, and he’d even pushed so far as to say he’d thought the word beautiful a handful of times. But that was because of who Eddie was—so warmhearted, such a tough exterior and warm center, constantly moving his body and using the space around him as if he didn't want the air to be lonely. It had never struck him before that, well, Eddie was kinda hot. 

Musician arms, tattoos freckled across him, an infectious smile that could turn into a slow smirk within seconds. Something about the way he carried himself, filled his space, but those looks. Those eyes pointed right at him—especially here, especially with Eddie using his ringed fingers to pull a hit and making his chest puff up—sent something straight to his gut. A warm coil that just grew tauter. 

“Aces.” He gave a wobbly thumbs up. “You have to brush your teeth, though, or I will definitely make you sleep on the floor. I have no interest in you breathing down my neck with the stench of cheap beer and pepperoni in the middle of the night.” Steve threw his clothes to the floor and climbed into bed, avoiding Eddie’s gaze. Only once he was settled did he risk a glance, getting the bong passed to him in his efforts and Eddie flipping him off with a deadpan expression before heading to the bathroom. 

They finished the bowl upon Eddie’s return, sharing in light conversation. 

“I kinda like the sound of all the feral cats,” Steve said. “It’s kinda gonna be like sleeping with a box fan, you know. Just more… hissy.” 

Eddie swept his arm around the room. “Just another perk of the stay.” 

Then Eddie reached for the light and flipped it off, sinking further into the sheets. Steve stared up at the ceiling, listening to nighttime sounds of the park and to Eddie’s breathing. Begging his brain to just let him fall asleep. 

Thankfully, it listened. 

Steve woke with a start, surrounded by blackness, and then his eyes adjusted on Eddie leaning over and shushing him, one hand to the right of his head to prop him up. His hair cascaded down and brushed Steve’s bare shoulders; they were so close. 

“Just a nightmare, baby,” he whispered, giving a wry smile. “Just a nightmare.” 

Except it wasn’t a nightmare, and the word baby coming soft and slow from Eddie’s sleep-tinged voice did nothing to help that fact. Because for once it hadn’t been a nightmare, just a dream about Eddie. 

They’d been in Eddie’s car, listening to some music as they sat in a parking lot waiting for a rain that was pounding on the windshield to let up. Eddie had just told a joke, Steve didn’t remember what it was, and then Eddie had leaned in. A hand cupping his chin like Eddie had done just the other day at Family Video, lips moving with certainty over Steve’s own before pulling back to leave their foreheads touching. Just had to kiss that laugh out of you, baby. 

And Steve hadn’t been able to help himself, pushing forward again and grabbing at the lapels of Eddie’s jean vest to pull him closer. Eddie’s hand sunk its way into the back of Steve’s hair, tugging at it in a way that pulled a moan right from Steve’s throat, and then dipping to leave sloppy kisses over where the sound had just come from. 

“I feel insane,” Steve said, aware how his eyes were probably blown wide and his hair a mess on the top of his head. 

“Get in line, buddy,” Eddie replied, and then he was climbing over the console to get closer to Steve. He was too tall, ducking and stabilizing himself with his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “You’re so fucking hot. You have no idea what you do to me.” 

Steve wanted to reply, had a million things on the tip of his tongue, but then Eddie pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and Steve was lost. Fucking breathless. Then he’d snapped out of it, waking to find Eddie nearly just as close as he’d left him in the dream. 

He must have mumbled or moved from the dream, pleasure resembling pain enough to elicit Eddie’s worry. Steve brought the heel of his hands to his eyes, needing a chance to reset. To get his breathing even. One problem at a time. 

Eddie pulled out of his space, laying onto his side and giving Steve a minute. He brought his head closer, pushing it into Steve’s shoulder. After a beat, Steve lowered his arms to his sides, bringing his right hand dangerously close to Eddie’s. 

“You good?” Eddie asked softly. 

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. “I think I’m good.” 

Steve wasn’t unaware he sometimes found men attractive. It simply wasn’t of much concern because girls were hot, and there were plenty of them. There’d never been a dude who struck him so completely it had felt necessary to step off the normal path, the easy path, to pursue them. So for all intents and purposes Steve thought he was straight, even if he knew that wasn’t strictly true, and he didn’t really bother with that other part of himself. 

Not necessarily ashamed exactly, because that would make him a hypocrite for how easily he’d accepted Robin and loved her. He didn’t really give a shit, honestly, love seemed too beautiful of a thing to care about who was giving it to who. But he would admit that it was simply easier to keep something that didn’t affect his life inside. 

It wasn’t some gay panic that took him over the next day after leaving Eddie’s after they’d shared a cup of coffee, attempting to revive themselves. It was more oh shit. Now I have to deal with this. Except, maybe he sorta didn’t. Because Steve’s whole philosophy with the problems in his life involved pushing them down, pretending they didn’t exist to not make it a problem for his friends. 

Not that being attracted to Eddie was a problem, but Steve liked what they had. He liked knowing he had Eddie as a friend, that he cared for Eddie and Eddie cared right back. That they could sleep in the same bed, help with the nightmares, and spend their time doing whatever in the comfort of another person. He didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose Eddie. 

So it wasn’t going to be a thing. Steve had experience with avoiding feelings that were inconvenient. Might even call himself an expert. He’d just keep on keeping on, but with the knowledge that Eddie sometimes made Steve’s stomach flip, that the sight of his hands made Steve have to grit his teeth to keep from reaching out and pulling them into his own. Whatever. Easy Peasy. 

The next night, Steve found himself pulling up to the Byer’s house again. When he shut his engine off, Joyce was standing at the door and waving. By the time he’d made it to the steps, she was already seated and lighting her first cigarette. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said. “Hopefully that means you’re sleeping more?” 

Steve considered the question as he got his own cigarette lit. He was, in some ways, and he wasn’t in others. He wondered if there would come a day where all of those nightmares rolled off his back, were just a memory of the past that didn’t claw at him. But he doubted it because he’d been doing this long enough to know there was something always around the corner, ready to pop up as soon as they’d let themselves relax. 

“A little, yeah.” Steve released a long exhale. Joyce hummed beside him in pleasure. “I’ve been spending more time with Eddie which helps. Just having someone around.” 

“I do worry about you in that empty house,” Joyce said. “My house was like that growing up.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asked, turning his head toward Joyce. 

She nodded, staring out at her lawn. “Oh, yeah. My dad was a drunk, and my mom worked at the hospital constantly, and I was well-versed in how to make myself a microwave dinner. That constant quiet, it can leach you up.” She tapped the side of her head, turning toward Steve. “Makes this go haywire.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed out, feeling seen in some way. Understood. He scratched at the side of his face, then leaned his forearms against his knees. “Makes me wonder sometimes why it’s so hard for them to be around.” He didn’t add me. 

“It took me a long time to learn this, so maybe you can get a jumpstart on it earlier than I did.” Joyce took a breath, waiting for Steve to meet her eyes before continuing. “It’s never about you, honey. That’s always on them. Always. ”

Steve nodded, smoking his cigarette while that idea settled. “You did a great job at making your home nothing like that.” 

Joyce laughed. “It’s okay. You can say this place is a madhouse, but at least that means there’s a place for all us crazies to convene.” She patted Steve’s knee before leaning back against the stoop. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Steve asked, curiosity sparking. Joyce nodded, and he continued. “What’s going on with you and Hop?” 

She laughed again, shaking her head this time. “If I ever figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.” 

“It never made sense to me, I guess. Why you weren’t just together, especially after everything. I don’t know, it just seems like there’s some people…” he trailed off. “Well, that are pulled together, right? As if even the world can’t keep them apart.” 

“We’re together, in a way,” Joyce said. “I don’t think Hop and I will ever be conventional, but that’s what works for us. So… we take it day by day. Our lives aren’t normal, why do we have to be?” 

“Normal is boring,” Steve added. 

“Ain’t that the goddamn truth.” 

Then they finished their cigarettes. Lit up a second one, enjoying the summer nighttime and the companionship of someone beside you. Steve thought about normalcy, conventions, how neither was quite destined for him anymore. He found he was okay with that. 

“Why am I always the chauffeur?” Steve asked as Robin and Vickie slid into his backseat. 

“You’re just so good at it, Steve,” Robin answered, reaching up to pat his shoulder. 

“Should we buy you a chauffeur hat or something?” Vickie asked. “So you feel better about it?” 

Robin chortled, and Steve shot Vickie a look over his shoulder. “That would not make me feel better about it. So jot that down.” Vickie smiled back, mischievous, and goddamn if her and Robin weren’t perfect for each other. 

They pulled up to Eddie’s next, and he threw himself into the passenger seat. “Drive!” he yelled, slapping the dash, and Steve pulled out with a sense of hurry. Seeing Steve’s wide eyes, Eddie laughed like a maniac. “Sorry, I just thought it would be fun to be dramatic.” 

As Robin and Vickie giggled in the back, Eddie shooting Steve a wide smile, Steve threw his hands off the wheel in aggravation. “I am so tired of all of you. I don’t even want to see you bastards drunk tonight since this is how you all act sober.” 

“Mom,” Robin whined. “Come on.” 

“You need to unwind, Harrington.” Eddie clapped his shoulder then slunk down into the seat, putting a foot up on his dash. Steve shot him a glare, and he shot him a shit-eating grin in return without moving his foot anywhere. 

He turned the music up louder, whatever the radio was playing, and ignored the groans from everyone else about him being a party pooper. He just wanted to make it to the Wheelers in one piece, thank you very much, and with his sanity intact. 

(Maybe he was a little on edge, but he’d get over it. Once he had some alcohol in his system and a whole night with his friends in front of him). 

Nancy flung open the door as they walked up the front stoop, clearly already a drink or two in if her less than sturdy stance was anything to go by, and Jonathan was futzing with the stereo to get music going in the background. 

“Welcome one, welcome all,” Nancy cheered. 

She giggled as Eddie stepped forward and took her hand, placing a kiss to the back of her hand and giving a little bow. “Thank you for allowing us into your lovely home.” 

“Move it, loverboy.” Robin hit him with her hip out of the way. “Nance, dearest, where may we find the alcohol?”

Nancy smiled, slipping her way between Vickie and Robin and throwing an arm over each of their shoulders to tug them toward the kitchen. Steve followed, leaving Eddie behind to talk with Jonathan about the music selection, because he was ready to let loose.

There was vodka and tequila on the counter, a few sodas for mixing. “Beer in the fridge, too,” Nancy said as she placed out a few plastic cups. 

Steve took one, pouring what was definitely more than a single shot into his glass, and pouring in some soda to dilute it. He took a sip. Yeah, it tasted kinda like shit, but that was fine by him. 

“You know, with the way you never say hi to me when you drop by,” Jonathan began as Steve returned, Eddie shuffling past him to go get himself something to drink. The sound of the girls laughing over something in the kitchen reached them in the living room, “I’m starting to think you like my mom more than you like me.” 

“Jonathan, Jonathan,” Steve said, pausing to take another sip from his drink (yep, just as bad as before), “I definitely like your mom more than you. She’s my favorite Byers. It goes Joyce,” he continued as he counted on his fingers, “then Will, obviously, and then you.” 

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “We defeated a demogorgon together. Where’s the loyalty?” 

“What we talking about?” Eddie asked, the girls trailing behind and plopping themselves down onto the couch. 

“Oh, just how Steve is in love with my mom,” Jonathan said. 

“That’s out of context. I would never steal her from Hopper.” Steve pointed at Jonathan. “If Hopper and her break up, though… all bets are off.” 

Groans erupted in the room, and Steve cackled. “I promise to come hang out with you soon,” Steve added, looping an arm around Jonathan’s shoulders and placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Jonathan pushed him off, wiping at his skin, but he was smiling and rolling his eyes. 

Eddie plopped himself down on the carpet in front of the couch, spreading his legs out in front of himself and leaning back on his free hand, and Steve did the same, though crossing his legs in front of him instead and resting his elbows on his knees. 

“So, what do you guys normally do at your parties?” Eddie asked. “Because honestly Corroded Coffin parties normally involve us breaking shit.” 

Nancy’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, please don’t break anything in my parent’s house.” 

Eddie shrugged. “Fine, but when do we start painting each other’s nails?” Which devolved into a jab from Vickie about how Eddie was clearly confusing sleepovers and parties, and then Robin who was making some sort of comment about whether the words came off sexist, and then Eddie’s hands were in the air as he was pointing to the chipped polish on his nails like that defended his stance. 

And then, funnily enough, Nancy disappeared down the hall in a fit of giggles and came back with a little bag of nail polish. Nancy and Vickie sat on the floor across from each other, picking out colors, while Robin and Eddie did the same (though, their conversation involved a lot more bickering, mostly because Eddie asked if Robin could paint a skull and Robin held up a bottle in astonishment: with this?? ). 

Steve and Jonathan shot the shit, throwing in comments about Vickie’s wobbly hands and the far too concentrated look on Eddie’s face. I’m trying not to smudge, dipshits. Which was funny enough to have Steve glowing, following with a chug of his drink that left him going to grab another. And if he took a shot while no one was looking, well, that’s a secret just for him. 

Upon his return, Eddie held out his hands toward him. 

“Beautiful,” Steve commented, shooting Eddie a smile. Eddie beamed, floating the now navy nails ( The fact that you don’t have black polish, Nancy, is a disgrace before she was throwing that bottle at him) around his face. “What do you want, Harrington?” 

“Nothing,” he deadpanned. 

“Come onnnn,” he whined, pouting his lips and moving to his knees, carefully holding his hands together in a plea. “Please, please, pleeeeeease.” 

“Fine! One finger, Munson. Just the pinky.” He held out his hand, and Eddie moved back to his butt and spread his legs wide to scoot himself closer. The insides of his thighs hit Steve’s knees, and Steve gulped at Eddie’s face bent down, tongue between his teeth, as he applied the polish to his pinky. Steve looked away, catching a suspicious look from Robin. He narrowed his eyes at her for good measure, and she shook her head in amusement. 

“All done, honey. I accept only cash tips.” Eddie looked up with a pleased expression, and a raised eyebrow. 

“Nice,” Steve said, but really that was in response to the joy coming from Eddie and far less to do with the single painted nail on his hand. 

“Let’s play a drinking game,” Jonathan said. 

“I like the way you think, Byers.” Eddie popped up to his feet. “Let me get a refill first.” 

“You purposefully waited until we all had wet nails, didn’t you?” Nancy accused. 

“We’re just too good for him, otherwise,” Vickie said. 

Robin nodded. “Definitely an evil scheme. We’ll still beat your ass, though. Girls against boys.” 

They shuffled to the kitchen table, setting up cups for a game called Flip Cup that Eddie had learned from someone in his band. He returned with a few beers that he passed to Jonathan to open ( So I don’t mess up my nails), and then poured a little into the cup in front of each of them. 

Eddie explained the rules, in his element at the head of the table as he jumped around and demonstrated. He was a patient explainer, not being bothered by Nancy’s million and one questions about the technicalities of the game. Even when Robin made a joke about this is supposed to be fun, Nancy, Eddie shushed her and bent forward to answer. 

Steve and Vickie were starting the game off, so they toasted their glasses to one another and then chugged. Both put the cups on the table, trying to flip them over. Steve got it on his first go, feeling rather proud of himself, and Jonathan chugged. The boys ended up winning the first round, then the second. The girls came through for the third and fourth. Nancy cut them off at a tie, forcing them to switch to beer pong so she could stop chugging beer in such quick succession. 

Her and Jonathan went to one side of the table, and Steve and Eddie took the other while Vickie and Robin went off to switch over to dancing music, whatever that meant to them. They set up the cups as Nancy disappeared to find some ping pongs in the basement. 

“You know how to play beer pong?” Steve asked. 

Eddie shot him a disgruntled look. “Yes, Steven. I know how to play beer pong.” 

“Just asking!” Loud pop music took over the space, and Steve could hear Vickie and Robin laughing. He bobbed on his feet, feeling the music as he took another sip, and then he looked to Eddie. 

Eddie, who was watching him with a smile. His eyes just the littlest bit glazed over as he swayed to the music slightly. God, this night was everything, and it wasn’t even done yet. There were still so many more hours ahead of them to just… be amongst friends. Forget about their lives and responsibilities and the darker things hanging at their backs. 

“Let’s gooooooo, boys.” Nancy was clapping her hands, energy coursing through her. “I’m ready to demolish you.”

“She gets really competitive,” Eddie whispered into Steve’s ear, his warm breath tickling his neck. “Kinda scary, but also like, very metal.” 

Steve turned. “Never thought I’d hear someone refer to Nancy Wheeler as metal. ”

Eddie shrugged. “Never thought I’d describe something you did as metal, either, but here we are, pal. The world is full of surprises.” 

They played the game through, both of them pretty even-footed though Steve definitely had a slight upper hand. Him and Nancy were landing the most shots, while Eddie and Jonathan straggled behind. They were each down to one cup, the anticipation rising, and Vickie and Robin were cheering them both on as they kept falling into each other, laughing at nothing in particular. 

Steve grabbed Eddie’s shoulders, turning him toward him. Those eyes. Those fucking eyes. “Okay, Eddie. I believe in you. You’ve got this. Think about where the ball is going before you throw it, and just sink that sucker in.”

Then Eddie turned, a lopsided smile on his face, and the ball sunk right in. A perfect arch. And Steve jumped up and down, jumping into Eddie and throwing his hands around him as Eddie grabbed onto his waist and lifted Steve into the air for a second. They both turned, still with their arms around each other, as they waited for the rebuttal shots. Jonathan clenched his jaw in concentration; it hit the rim of the cup, and then it bounced out. Nancy followed, also missing her shot, and then Steve and Eddie were cheering again. Eddie ruffled Steve’s hair, and he didn’t even care that it got messed up. 

“Knew you could do it,” Steve said. 

Eddie bent in close. “I mean, with such a cute cheerleader, how could I not?” Steve shoved his shoulder, his chest filling with warmth and something bubbly. 

“Dance party?” Vickie suggested. “But maybe… a shot first?” 

“You,” Eddie began, pointing a finger at Vickie, “are surprisingly a party animal. Never trust those band kids.” 

“Said the boy in a band,” Robin returned. 

“Different breeds, but certainly not wrong.” He clapped his hands, and they all made their way into the kitchen and lined up against the counter. 

Nancy poured them each a shot with unsteady hands, spilling nearly just as much on the counter as she was into the tiny glasses. Jonathan helped pass them out, and then they stood in a makeshift circle and cheers-ed to, of all things, Tammy Thompson’s muppet voice as suggested by Vickie. Steve and Robin collapsed in fits of giggles, instantly agreeing. 

“Definitely missing an inside joke here, but why not,” Jonathan said. They clinked their glasses together and threw them back, each grimacing in their own way. 

Some of the lights were turned off as they made their way back to the living room, and then Robin clicked the stereo even higher, and they were all jumping back and forth and singing the lyrics to dumb pop songs. Even Eddie, who normally would fight against mainstream music, was happy to join in. 

Steve was flinging himself one way then another, hitting into his friends, and throwing his hands up between sips from his cup. Yeah, he was certainly drunk, but so were all his friends, and it felt good. He shimmied toward Nancy, who shimmied back. He bumped hips with Robin before she pushed him away. He crooned into Jonathan’s face, who crooned in return. He turned to Eddie, who had his eyes closed as he sang along and bounced, and then Eddie flipped them open. He kept his voice going, gripping out at Steve’s hip, and they moved in tandem to the song. The heat of Eddie’s solid hand made heat crawl up Steve’s back. 

The next song was still poppy, but a little slower, less of a jumping song and more about the smooth rhythm. Steve, feeling dizzy and a little breathless, dipped his head against Eddie’s chest as he stepped minutely side to side. Eddie’s hand came off Steve’s hip and moved to his neck, gripping him in place with a thumb that moved up and down the bump of his spine. Steve was pretty sure he’d be happy to stay right here forever. To pretend the outside world didn’t exist, and it was just him and Eddie keeping each other upright. 

Then the next song came on, crashing with heavy bass, and Vickie was grabbing him around the waist to pull him into some sort of dance move that mostly involved them kicking out at each other. It almost distracted him from the remaining whatever was happening in his stomach. Almost. The familiar drunk feeling of wanting a cigarette took over, and he gave one last kick out with a laugh before turning toward the back door. 

Steve made his way to a step, falling down into it and pulling out the pack he’d stashed earlier in his back pocket. He tapped the carton against his hand, then pulled one out and the lighter before popping it into his mouth and lighting it. A second later, the back door opened, and Jonathan was sitting beside him. 

“Can I bum one?” he asked. Steve held out the pack, and Jonathan took one and the lighter from him. “You good?” 

Steve nodded, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. “Yeah. Just drunk and craving nicotine. Also, that’s the most cardio I’ve done since running away from Vecna. I really need to start working out again.” 

Jonathan huffed out a laugh. The light breeze felt good against his skin, and Steve fell back and laid on the top of the deck. Soon, Jonathan was joining him, and they smoked their cigarettes while watching the stars. 

“Question for you,” Steve prompted, and Jonathan emitted a soft hm? “How did you, like, deal when Nancy was with me but you liked her?”

“Is this about… Nancy?” 

“No! Nonono. I don’t like Nancy like that, it’s just like… a hypothetical. About liking someone you can’t have.” Steve winced. Could he be any dumber. He should have just kept the stupid question in his head, but his new awareness of Eddie was proving harder than expected in his drunken state. 

“Ooookay,” Jonathan said, then they sat in silence for a beat. Seemingly, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t know. It gets easier, at some point, because you grow kinda used to it, I guess. But honestly? It always sucks, at least a little, and you extinguish the hope just long enough to think you might be over it just for it to pop back up. If the hope’s there, though, maybe that means it isn’t impossible.” 

Steve took that in. Not particularly helpful, honestly, but he thought about Eddie’s hand on his waist. The way he held his neck, clamping him closer. The way his eyes found his first in the crowd. Those, maybe, were signs of hope that this wasn’t one-sided. But Steve would never assume that, and that didn’t mean his previous worries weren’t of concern. He still didn’t want to lose Eddie, and he wished the feelings would just fucking vanish. That he could be best friends with Eddie and not wonder what kissing him would be like. 

Fuck, then he was thinking about that dream again. The way their breathing had grown in sync, the feel of Eddie’s legs bracketing his hips. He was too drunk for this. He was much too drunk for this. 

“Is this, hypothetically of course, about someone specifically?” Jonathan asked. 

“No, just a—” Steve waved his hands above his head, “general question. For, like, research.” 

“Well, when you do have feelings for someone again, just make sure they’re worth you, Steve. You’re a good dude.” 

Steve thought about saying can you believe how far we’ve come? Thought about bringing up all the shit that’d happened over the last few years that allowed Steve and Jonathan to be here, sharing cigarettes and chatting about love on the back step. But then Steve realized it was probably as obvious to Jonathan, that it didn’t really need to be said at all. 

“If anyone was gonna love Nancy Wheeler instead of me,” Steve said, “thank god it was you, Jonathan.” 

Jonathan huffed a laugh. Then they went back to staring at the stars.

The party was seemingly collapsing by the time Steve made his way back inside, one more cigarette down the hatch after Jonathan went inside to check on Nancy. Vickie was lying on top of Robin on the couch, passed out while Robin’s head was turned to the side and still engaging in drunken conversation with Eddie on the floor. 

“Nancy and Jonathan?” Steve asked, making sure to keep his voice low to not disturb Vickie. 

Eddie looked up. “Think she might be…” he made a blegh sound and mimicked vomiting. “That or they’re fucking, but I’m pretty sure it’s the first thing. They went up.” 

Steve nodded. “Do you need, like, a blanket or something?” Steve asked Robin. 

She shook her head, dumb smile on her face. “She’s surprisingly warm, and also if you could not ruin this moment for me I would love that. Go downstairs or something. This is like my lesbian fantasy right here.” 

“She’s literally your girlfriend.” 

Robin sighed blissfully, turning to watch Vickie’s sleeping face. “I know. ”

“You got it, Rob.” Steve stepped forward and reached his hands out to Eddie, who tickled them, making Steve pull back with a betrayed sound, before reaching them back out again and giving him a puppy dog look. This time, he grabbed Steve’s hands and let himself be pulled up. 

Eddie stumbled into him the slightest bit, readjusting himself with the help of Steve’s hands still clasped in his own between them. Eddie retracted his hands, then he brought one up and patted Steve’s cheek. “Thanks, Stevie.” He turned toward the basement door. 

Steve looked over to Robin to see her grinning maniacally. She mouthed, we are so talking about this in the morning with a little swivel of her finger toward the two of them. He rolled his eyes and went to follow Eddie down the steps. 

Eddie was already grabbing bunches of blankets and tossing them on the floor, taking a pillow from the couch to toss at the end. “You can have the couch,” he said. 

“Nah,” Steve replied. He held up his painted pinky finger. “Sleepover solidarity. Grab me a pillow, too.” 

Which is how they both found themselves on the floor on top of a pile of blankets, two sleeping bags covering them. They were turned toward each other, neither quite saying anything, attempting to ease themselves into sleep. 

“It seems like you had fun tonight,” Eddie said. Steve hummed. “Nice to see you let loose.” 

“You make it sound like I’m wound so tight.” Eddie raised a brow. “I resent that.” 

“Not wound tight. You just… care so much about other people all the time. Like if you let your eyes close for even a second shits going to hit the fan and you’ll have missed it. All the stuff you just keep locked inside. Churning away in there.” Eddie reached out a finger and tapped his forehead. 

“You’re too observant for your own good,” Steve said. “And I don’t keep it all locked inside. I say some of it. To you.” 

“Color me honored.” Eddie gave a tired smile. He reached out a hand and pushed Steve’s hair back, running his fingers along his cheek, and Steve’s eyes fluttered shut. “I remember King Steve in the halls, how you were an asshole sure, but you had this brimming energy. Like the Energizer Bunny, man. Just rolling through life in the fast lane, not caring what anyone thought.” 

Steve snorted. “I cared way too much.” 

Eddie’s hand dropped, and Steve opened his eyes. Eddie was scanning his face, like he was taking in every divot, every curve, every line. “Now you’re so much more cautious. There’s still joy, but there’s also heaviness. It was nice to see you without the chains for a little bit is all.” 

“And what about you?” Steve asked. “Because the Eddie “The Freak” Munson I remember was all about the middle finger, making sure everyone knew how much he didn’t give a shit about any of it.” 

“I still don’t give a shit about any of it,” he said. 

“Yeah, which I’m so jealous of, honestly.” Steve reached out his own hand, his thumb tracing Eddie’s jawline as Eddie’s eyes grew thin like a cat being pet. “I think you always cared about people, I mean you cared about Dustin Henderson and your whole gang, but now you’re so much more open about showing it. You really don’t care what the world sees.” 

Eddie shook his head as Steve removed his fingers, watching Steve again. “The world is going to decide who and what I am, anyways. Might as well give them something honest to judge.” 

“Guess we’re both a little better people then.” 

Eddie’s eyes flashed. “Spoils of battle,” he said, now a familiar refrain. 

“Still sounds about right.” Steve smiled, and his eyes dipped to Eddie’s lips again that were wet and pink and right there. How easy it would be to dip forward, to let his drunk mind and body have exactly what he wanted, but then he’d ruin it. The way he’s ruined every romantic relationship in his life, failed to be what someone else needed. He ducked his head instead, allowing himself the pleasure of at least tucking his nose into Eddie’s arm and resting his head against his shoulder. “We’re going to feel like shit in the morning,” he whispered. 

Eddie laughed. “Goodnight to you, too, Steve.”

They did, in fact, feel like shit in the morning. Steve could feel it the second he’d woken up, the pounding in his head and the taste of rust and salt in his mouth. He was practically completely covered by the blankets they’d piled around them, only the tip of his hair and his eyes revealed, and his arm was slung over Eddie’s waist. Eddie’s legs were tangled in his own. 

For a second, he let himself enjoy the feeling. Then he carefully pulled himself back, cautiously standing up and making his way upstairs. 

The only two people awake were Nancy and Robin. Nancy was bent over a cup of coffee as she sat at the kitchen table, head in her hands, while Robin was attempting to make pancake batter. Though, there seemed to be more flour on her shirt and in her hair than in the bowl itself. It was quite… runny.

Upon his entrance, Robin turned and pointed the whisk at him, pulling it back just in time to the bowl before batter dripped to the floor. “What is going on with you and Eddie Munson?” 

Nancy groaned. “Talk quieter, please.” She peaked one eye out, though, scanning Steve. “ Is something going on with you and Eddie Munson?” 

“Besides friendship?” Steve asked, going to grab his own cup of coffee. “Absolutely not.” 

“But you want there to be,” Robin said. She gave the bowl a vigorous whisk before turning toward the stove, dropping a too large portion of batter into the sizzling pan. “Come on, Steve.” She turned back around. “Friendship is a two way street, and I told you everything about Vickie. What’s going on? Are we having a gay crisis? That is what I’m here for.” 

“No gay crisis,” Steve said, a purposefully nonchalant shrug. “Guys are, like, hot.” 

“What?” Nancy asked. “Why have you not mentioned this before?” 

Steve flailed with his arms. “It hasn’t come up before! There was absolutely no need!” 

“Us gays do flock together. I should have known.” Robin sighed wistfully, fluttering her eyes at Steve. “Come on. Give us all the details.” 

“There are absolutely no details to give.” He poured a shit ton of creamer into his coffee ‘cause why not. “We’re friends. I can also like guys and be friends with one. You’re friends with Nancy and don’t want to bang her.” 

“I have a girlfriend,” Robin answered, “and I don’t touch Nancy’s face half as much as you touch Eddie’s. Or her hands. Or her waist. Or call her beautiful. Nancy, am I being a bad friend? Should I be doing these things more?” 

Nancy waved her hand, then she groaned again and took a sip of coffee, wincing as it went down. “I am happy with our current level of physicality. Thank you for the open communication, though.” 

Robin nodded, satisfied. She flipped the pancake and followed with a victorious pump of her fist when it landed with a splat. “We’re your friends, Steve.”

“And so is Eddie,” Steve replied with a shrug. “I’m not going to fuck that up.” 

Robin and Nancy both paused, turning their eyes toward him. Steve hated the way they were looking at him, the pity and surprise leaching through their gazes. “Steve…” Robin began, but he was saved from whatever she was going to say by Eddie jogging up the stairs, appearing in the doorframe and running a hand over his face. 

“Fuck. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.” He made grabby hands out, and the moment passed. 

Steve wasn’t avoiding Robin. Honestly, he really wasn’t. He only switched his shift because he promised Dustin he’d take him to the movies, absolutely nothing to do with avoiding the continuation of a conversation Steve had no interest in having. 

He already knew exactly what Robin would tell him, the faces she would give him, and Steve was certain he didn’t need to live through it. There was simply no point. It wasn’t going to change his mind about anything. He remembered sitting on Joyce’s porch, what? Two weeks ago or so? Thinking about how he just needed sleep and someone to talk to. 

He had that with Eddie. Neither of them even had a nightmare the last time they slept together, and Steve knew how relationships could fuck up friendships. Make what once felt easy disintegrate to dust. And that was assuming Eddie wanted a relationship, which Steve was pretty sure he didn’t. Eddie was a physical guy, it didn’t mean he was attracted to Steve the way Steve was to him. That he wanted to date a once asshole jock turned mother hen babysitter. 

Yet, nothing was entirely avoidable, and Steve came in two days later weary from the littlest sleep he’d had in weeks and a head hung low, understanding the calamity about to befall him. 

The instant he entered through the doors, Robin popped up from behind the counter. “Welcome to Family Video, how may I be of service to you today?” 

Steve clutched his chest. “Jesus, Robin. Give a man a heart attack.” He hopped over the counter, leaning on his hip next to her. “Hiya to you, too.”

“We have some returns to restock. Get to it, slacker.” Which was… so not what Steve had been anticipating. 

They worked normally all the way through lunch, Steve waiting. And waiting. And waiting for Robin to give him the lecture he’d been crafting himself in his head, or at the very least teasing him incessantly about his big ole crush on Eddie Munson, but nothing. Until that steadily building nervous sense of anticipation finally won over. 

Steve hopped up onto the counter after a lone customer left, and Robin looked lazily up from the computer. “Come on, spit it out.” 

“Spit what out?” Robin clicked the button for another return, huffing as the computer froze and she slapped the side. “Such a piece of shit. ”

“You’re really not going to bring it up?” 

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Steve huffed, crossing his arms. Was it possible that he’d made this into a bigger deal than it actually was? Magnified it all in his head? This was so out of place for who he knew Robin to be, though, and it was throwing him off. He huffed again, eyebrows squeezing together. 

“Fine,” she said, rotating in her chair and clapping her hands on her thighs. “I was trying to be nice, but you make it so hard when you look like that.” She motioned her hand up and down his body. 

“Devastatingly handsome?” 

Her head threw back with the force of her groan. “Here I was, thinking I was being a good friend. Don’t tease him, Robin. Don’t push him, maybe he’s sensitive and you’ll just make it worse. Don’t bring up his likely requited crush on Eddie Munson that could so easily be solved with communication but boys, stupid fucking boys, can never just say how they feel. Oh no, that’d be too eeeeeeasy. Where’s the challenge?” 

“Woah,” Steve said, pulling back. “That’s, like, a lot to unpack.” 

She threw her hands up. “This is exactly what I was talking about! How do I stand you on a regular basis? Fine, you want me to tell you what I want to say? Get your head out of your ass. You’re not going to make someone disappear just because you love them, okay? I love you, and you haven’t disappeared. You love me, and I haven’t disappeared. And guess, what? Eddie loves you, and he won’t fucking disappear.” 

Steve paused, letting all that sink in. A smile spread across his lips. “You love me?” 

“Yeah, you dipshit.” She rolled her eyes. “You love me?” 

He nodded. “I really do. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” 

Robin smiled with the edge of annoyance, but the fond sort. “Same, brat. I’ll keep teasing you about Eddie, probably, I’m not a saint. But you do things on your own time. We all know it took me nearly dying to do anything about Vickie.” 

“Sounds like a compromise.” Steve held his hand out for a shake, and Robin shook back (with an eye roll, of course). 

A few days later, Steve was halfway through a bag of Doritos when the phone rang. He was expecting a call from Dustin, the only person who really called these days, usually with a request or just to tell him a story that could be told in a minute elongated somehow to thirty. 

Steve wiped his hand off on his jeans, making his way to the phone and pulling it up to his ear. 

“Dude, I swear to God. Suzie saying I can’t wait to talk to you soon, in this case, definitely just means she can’t wait to talk to you soon. You gotta get a grip.” 

“Wow, Dustin is going through it, huh?” Eddie laughed. “Was still pretty convinced he’d made her up until Jonathan confirmed she exists. Probably too good for the little shit, too.”

“Eddie.” Steve collected himself, annoyance draining from his limbs. “Shit, sorry, man. He’s called two times today already to get my opinion, and there’s only so much you can hear about a relationship between two 15-year-olds before you want to just jump off the edge of the quarry.” 

“Nah, I think you responded more than appropriately. Though, it is sorta depressing to hear about how Dustin Henderson has a more successful dating life than me.” Oh, if only you knew, Steve thought. “But whatcha up to? Want company?” 

“I’ve almost eaten an entire bag of Doritos by myself and flipped through all the channels at least three times. Yeah, I could use some company.” 

“Dude, you know you work at a movie store, right? You have options right at your fingertips.” Eddie clucked his tongue over the line. “I’m bringing some movies over to save you from this. See you soon.” Then the line clicked dead. 

“Ooookay,” Steve said to himself, turning back to his living room and deciding he should probably pick up at least some of the empty containers littering his coffee table. 

Fifteen minutes later (checking his hair in the hall mirror three times, circling the living room for a full five minutes, and pacing in front of the door the remaining time on the clock), Eddie arrived. Steve opened the door in record speed, cringing when he realized how weird that probably was, but Eddie seemed unbothered. 

“New idea. What if we got high and swam?” Eddie asked. 

“Love being friends with a genius. Let’s do it.” 

Which was how they found themselves another half hour later (they got distracted by finishing the Doritos and talking about dog breeds, a natural digression) high and floating in the pool as the the last of the summer day began fading. It was still highly humid and warm, though the temperature was beginning to edge away the slightest bit. 

“There’s something about being… weightless,” Steve said. 

“Seriously, I wish I had this thing in my backyard. Don’t know how you’re not in it everyday.” 

Eddie flipped to his front, doggy paddling over to Steve and then dipping below the water to pop back up, spitting a stream toward him. He proceeded to do a few somersaults, Steve watching in amusement all the while, and then pop back up in the shallow end. He stood up and used the band on his wrist to pop his hair into a messy bun on the top of his head. 

“You’re literally worse than the children in this pool,” Steve said. “You’re like a fish.” 

Eddie laughed, bringing his feet up and using his arms to keep him afloat in a seated position. Steve’s eyes trailed his biceps in the water, then he ducked under to cool himself off. When he reappeared, he made his way closer. 

“That’s the only good memory I have of my mom, maybe the only one honestly.” Eddie flicked a little water at Steve with his forefinger. Steve attempted to reciprocate, but he couldn’t manage to get it as targeted. “She’d take me to swim lessons at the community center, and when everyone else was getting out and going to change she’d have to coax me to the edge, yell a little to get me to move my ass. But,” he said, tilting his head, “she said I must have been a dolphin in a past life. Not a fish.” 

“Probably not, much too graceful.” Eddie slapped water into Steve’s face, and Steve sputtered. “Sorry, sorry, I take it back.” Steve floated to the edge, holding it as he spread his legs out in front of him. “Do you miss her?” he asked. 

Eddie shrugged. He was kneeling now, pushing his hands through the water like he was in a trance. “Can’t miss what you never knew.” 

Steve contemplated that, but he wasn’t sure he agreed. He thought about all the daydreams he’d had about what his parents could have been, what it would be like to have parents that were there for you. But maybe that wasn’t the same as missing. Maybe that was longing. 

Longing, he considered as he watched Eddie adjust his hair, came from things you knew you’d never learn like the insides of your own palms. 

“I know I’m beautiful, Harrington, but come on.” 

“It’s just,” Steve began, standing up and placing one hand on his hip, the other motioning to the sky, “with the way the sun hits your bare torso. Whew. I don’t know man, wish I had my easel. That should be remembered for decades.” 

He scoffed. “Eat shit.” 

Steve took his moment, dipping forward and splashing the biggest wave he could manage toward Eddie. Which made Eddie laugh maniacally, jumping forward and knocking Steve into the deep end. They twirled underwater, both clamoring to get to the surface while the other tugged them down. Eventually they both needed air, swimming to the surface with a gasp of breath. 

They paddled to keep themselves afloat, and Steve considered that his words really hadn’t been that far from the truth. Steve thought he could watch Eddie play like a child in the water all day, and it wasn’t a bad view. His wet lashes somehow magnifying his eyes (seriously, there should be a warning label on those), his skin reflecting with the water, the damp bun on his head and the tendrils of hair sticking to his face. Art.

“They call me the freak, but you’re the one with the staring problem. Always makes me wonder what’s ticking away in that noggin of yours.” 

No way in hell Steve was going to say I was just thinking about how you’re as beautiful as art, Eddie. No one has made me feel this good in a long time. “Just happy,” Steve said instead, which was really the same thing. 

“I’ll crack you someday, man.” Eddie narrowed his eyes, swimming just a little bit closer. 

Steve released a breathless laugh. “I think you already have. Not sure anyone besides Robin at this point knows more about me than you.” 

This took Eddie back, though he played it off with a twist of his lips. “Not even Wheeler?”

“I know you thought it was true love shit or whatever, which is super adorable that you believe in true love by the way,” Steve said, eyes catching on the way Eddie’s lips widened on the word adorable, “but that’s not it. Like, don’t get me wrong, I loved Nancy. I seriously did. I’m just not sure she fully knew me, maybe I didn’t let her or didn’t actually know who I was yet. Maybe we were just passing by each other, missing by inches.”

“So, if Nancy Wheeler showed up right now on the edge of this pool and said Steve Harrington, you’re the one. Let’s get back together. You wouldn’t say yes?”

Steve shook his head. “No. I still love her because she’s fucking awesome, she’s Nancy Wheeler, but I’m not… in love with her. I think that’s how it’s meant to be.” 

“That’s very mature of you.” Eddie smirked, twisting his body and paddling back to the shallow end. 

“Well, that’s me. Steve Harrington. Real Ass Adult. Mature as shit.” Steve dipped his head into the water and took full strokes back to the shallow end. 

They floated out there for at least another hour before the cold began to creep closer, and then they returned to the house. Steve slipped into shorts and a crewneck he’d left out while Eddie rushed up the stairs, cursing the A/C. His stomach growled, and he made his way to the kitchen to see what he could whip together. There wasn’t much, but there was a box of pasta and a can of sauce that hadn't expired, so he put a pot of water on the stove. 

Then he looked up, wondering where Eddie had gone off to. “Eddie?” he called. There was no sign of him in the living room, and Steve turned around the corner to the first floor hallway to find him bent near the wall, cursing to himself. The fact that he was yet again in Steve’s old sweatshirt, the Harrington on the back as bold as ever, was not entirely lost on Steve. Quite the opposite, honestly. 

“What are you doing?” 

“There has to be a way to fix this thing,” Eddie said. “Like, how can something be so fancy and yet not do its primary function.” 

“I’d argue it's doing its primary function too well.” 

Eddie dipped forward, looking dangerously close to ripping the thing off the wall in an attempt to make the house a little warmer. His mouth was spitting curses under his breath, the swears getting more creative as he went on. “I usually… can fix…” His hands went to the side of the unit again, and Steve stepped forward. 

“You’re going to break it.” 

“I’m not going to break it. ” 

“Jesus, Eddie…” and then some harmless squabbling started, neither quite listening to the other, and as it rose and Eddie jolted forward one last time with hands ready to yank, Steve stepped with a hand out between Eddie and his newfound enemy. 

Unprepared for Steve’s movement, Eddie hit into his chest and caused them both to stumble to the wall. With Steve’s back flush against the wall, there was barely any space between them. Steve couldn’t feel his face, had no idea what his expression must be, and his eyes were moving on their own accord. Over Eddie’s flushed cheeks, the curve of his jaw, his wet lips. He wondered if kissing him in real life would be the same as his dream, making him want to burst into flame from the heat of it. 

Eddie’s feet shifted, bringing them even closer, and Steve had to look away. He needed to look away, but then that left his eyes looking up to Eddie’s, and he couldn’t read them. Didn’t know what the flashing of Eddie’s eyes meant, the way his lips parted and a soft sound emitted. Entirely incomprehensible. 

Then Eddie paused, brow furrowing. “Did I just hear, like, a hiss?”

“Fuck, the stove.” There wasn’t a huge rush to get to it, it was just boiling over water after all, but the idea of what it had just shaken Steve out of. Contemplating crossing a line he knew he shouldn’t. He was grateful for the intrusion to set him back on track. 

“Bon appetit,” Steve joked as he went to refill the now only half filled pot. 

“How dreamy. He can cook and fight monsters of an unexplainable variety. Sweep him off his feet before he’s gone, ladies.” Eddie leaned against the counter by Steve’s side, twirling a ring on his middle finger. 

Steve stared at the pot on the stove, struggling under the weight of the moment he was still wrapped in and the idea that he fucked everything in his life up. Everything. His only successes were by the skin of his teeth or with a million extra hands of support. Steve? He was the one who needed all of them more than they needed him, and someday everyone would be gone. They’d be living their lives, the dreams they’ve worked toward, and Steve would still be lost, looking at the ruin of the life he made in Hawkins, Indiana. 

It was ridiculous, all of this hitting Steve as he stared at a pot of water. That creeping sense of loneliness twisting around his ribs, impossible to yank out. What did he possibly have to offer to another person? Besides breaking whatever they build without even realizing he was doing it? 

“Just water, baby,” Eddie cooed, reaching a hand out by his waist and slipping his fingers around it. Then his left hand did the same, and he was holding Steve from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. “No biggie. Spilt milk and all that.”  

Steve let his head drop backward, closing his eyes as Eddie held him from behind. The hands at his hips grounded him, brought him back to earth, made him feel like he could breathe again. “Sorry, I just—” The words caught in his throat, ready to pull him under, and then Eddie gripped a little harder. Reminded him he was here. “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Eddie’s nose grazed the side of his neck, and Steve was going to lose it. He was really going to fucking lose it. “I fucking love spaghetti.” 

Then he laughed, a surprised chuckle, and he had the strength to lift his head off Eddie’s shoulder to see the water finally bubbling in front of him.

When hours later Steve woke with a start, Eddie’s arm wrapped around his chest. He mumbled something into Steve’s neck he couldn’t pick apart. Steve fell asleep as quickly as he’d woken up. 

When a few days later it was Eddie’s turn, Steve didn’t hesitate to do the same right back.

“Dude, why would I know anything about this movie?” Steve held up The Thing, shaking it for effect. 

“You’re fucking kidding.” Eddie leaned closer on the counter, practically vibrating. “It redefined the Horror genre! How have these kids not made you watch this shit. Did you know you work in a movie store?”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’ve seen allllll of these.” He swept around. “Dude, who has the time.” 

“I know you have the time. You take no time to educate yourself on the finer things in life, don’t even get me started on your music taste.” 

“Popular music is popular for a reason. ”

Eddie’s mouth was open to retort. He snapped it shut as soon as Robin sidled up beside them. “This whole thing is cute, but Steve, could you maybe do your job for once? And then you can return to this riveting debate with your soul mate? Cool? Cool.” 

He was about to argue, but then Steve saw the line waiting to check out Robin was working her way through. Yeah, that was kinda fair.

A few more days later, standing at the edge of a bonfire while the kids were roasting marshmallows. Nancy was holding out graham crackers for Max, Jonathan snapping some pictures of the kids, and Steve was next to Eddie. The two of them watching the flames and talking in quick back-and-forth's. 

“You really think I’d be able to jump across?” Eddie asked. “I mean, it’s a big pit. I have to get over and up.” 

“But you’ve got long legs, Eds. It would just take a few starting steps and whoooosh, you’re flying.” 

“We have the same leg length. You could do it just as easily as me.”

“What?” Steve asked, slapping Eddie’s chest with the back of his hand. “You don’t want to do it? You could totally do that, man.” 

“I don’t not want to, I’m just trying to follow your logic.”

“Aerodynamics. You’re like, leaner and shit. Slip right past the flames.” 

“Aerody namics? Now you’re just—”

“You two are idiots, ” Robin said. “I’ve just been standing here, watching you go back and forth about this for five minutes. Is this what you do when you’re alone? Just gear each other up into idiotic decisions?” 

Steve and Eddie shared a look. “I mean…” Steve began, tilting his head up and his face bent in concentration. “Not… no?” 

“Idiots,” she repeated, crossing her arms. Her eyes went to the fire pit. “Anyways, I actually kinda think Steve would be better off jumping it. It seems like he’s more springy from his legs.”

Eddie snapped. “Yes! See, that’s what I was saying.” 

Steve eyed the both of them, his chest swirling with such a mix of fondness and security, with being seen and accepted, before he started again to reassure them he knew exactly what he was talking about. 

It was mid-July when Steve found himself walking up the Byer’s steps, catching Joyce at the front door. 

“A smoke?” she asked. 

Steve smiled. “Sorry, Joyce. I promised Jonathan my next insomniac debacle was all his. He’s getting a little jealous that you’re my favorite. Is he in?” 

Joyce shook her head. “Little charmer. Yeah, get on in there. He’s in his room.” 

Jonathan was reading on his bed when Steve knocked at the open door. “Steve!” He sat up, tossing the book to the side. “Come on in. Close the door behind you.” 

“I’m not interrupting?” he asked. 

“James Joyce? Yeah, I don’t think so.” He patted a spot on his bed, and Steve flung himself down. Jonathan stood up, clicked on a mixtape, opened his bedroom window, and then he packed a bowl into a small glass pipe. 

They passed it back and forth, enjoying the music in silence as they smoked. Steve was actually starting to worry about what the amount he’d been smoking lately was doing to his tolerance, but Jonathan and Eddie managed fine. He was sure he’d survive. 

“So, like, hypothetically,” Steve began, and Jonathan huffed out a laugh, “I’m in love with Eddie Munson.” A breath caught in his throat, bracing for the reaction. He was on his stomach, and he propped up onto his forearms to see Jonathan’s response. 

Sitting with his back against the wall, legs crossed in front of himself, he raised a brow. “ And? Is that the end of the hypothetical?” 

Steve bit back a smile. He should have known Jonathan wouldn’t give a shit, but it was still something new and terrifying. Something he knew could potentially cause him trouble. 

“And hypothetically…” Steve trailed off, unsure exactly where he’d been going, “I’m dying.” 

“Because of Eddie Munson?” Jonathan asked. 

“Because of Eddie Munson,” Steve confirmed. “It’s just— like he’s— so much . Everywhere.” 

Jonathan squinted, trying to fit those words together. “Okay, so I’m still catching speed on this, but why don’t you tell him?” 

“I can’t just tell him! It’ll ruin everything. It's like when you couldn’t just tell Nancy you wanted to be with her.” 

“Yeah. Because she was dating you.” Jonathan was speaking slowly as if to a child. 

“She was unavailable,” Steve continued. “Eddie is unavailable. What is the point?” 

“Eddie’s dating someone? Who is he dating?” 

“No one! You’re not getting it.” Steve groaned, flopping down onto the bed. He was a little dramatic, sue him. “He couldn’t like me like that. He doesn’t. Eddie Munson? Dating a jock who used to be an asshole to him in the hallways? Fat chance.” 

“And why not Steve?” he asked. Steve groaned again, and Jonathan perked up, reaching out and slapping Steve’s arm. “That’s not who you are. You are kind, you’re attractive, you’re insanely loyal, occasionally funny, alright taste in—”

“Feel like this list is plummeting a little bit.” 

Jonathan shook his head, looking out the window for a second before returning his look. “Steve. You don’t know until you try. I know sitting in limbo might be less scary, but it’s also taking something away from you. You’re depriving yourself.” 

Steve hummed. “I’ll consider it.” 

He shrugged. “You should. You really should.” 

And Steve considered it. He really did.

It was sweltering. The day had started with driving the kids somewhere, all of them complaining in the backseat about the heat while Steve, too tired from the humidity and the sweat dripping down his back, could do nothing but agree. Then he’d popped into work to pick up his check, finding only Keith working which involved one of the strangest conversations Steve had been part of in days. Which was saying something: he didn’t understand half the shit coming out of those kids’ mouths. 

He met up with Robin, who was in her backyard sitting cross-legged inside of a kiddy pool. “This is the only way to survive,” she said, splashing the water beside her. 

Steve pulled up a folding chair and stuck his legs into the water, reaching into the cooler Robin had brought out with her and grabbing a beer. It helped, the cool drip of alcohol, but he was listless and warm. Feeling like something was itching underneath his skin and begging to come out. 

They talked about nothing for a half hour, Robin lying back and fitting as much of her body underneath the water as she could manage, and then Eddie and Jonathan showed up together. It was clear they’d definitely smoked in the car on their way over, the both of them loose-limbed. 

Jonathan, in basketball shorts that Steve was surprised he even owned, pushed Robin out of the way to plop himself down in the water, too. The sight tugged at Steve’s chest, made him laugh a little—the two of his fully grown friends sitting cross-legged in a kiddy pool that barely contained them. 

They passed beers around, and Eddie found another chair to sit down next to Steve. He was wearing shorts again, another sleeveless band t-shirt, and he kept lifting his hair off the nape, trying to air it out. Lessen the oppressive heat. 

“Why aren’t we at Harrington’s pool?” Eddie asked. “This is ridiculous.” 

Robin looked at him wide-eyed. “I wish. I couldn’t get out of the water, though. It’s the only thing keeping me alive.” 

“I can see how you feel that way,” Jonathan said. 

Which was all sorts of ridiculous, honestly, and Steve did actually miss the sub-zero temperature of his house, but he never would have given this up to be there. They worked their way through a few more beers, and then Robin was finally pulling herself up to her feet. 

“I’ve got a date, gentlemen. Time to attempt to not look like this,” she said with a sweep over her body. “I trust you can find your own way home?” 

“Thanks for having us,” Jonathan said, letting Robin tug him up. The two of them nearly slipped, splashing down, but Eddie reached out quick hands to keep them upright. All four of them laughing. “Eddie? You want me to drop you off? I have to go pick up Nance, but it’s no problem.” 

“I got it,” Steve said. Jonathan watched him, the smallest of smiles playing at his lips. “I can take you home.” He turned to Eddie who gave him a nod in return. 

“This is actually perfect,” Eddie said as they walked toward Steve’s car, waving to Jonathan as he jogged back to his own, “because now we can listen to this.” He tossed Steve a mixtape before slipping into his seat. 

Steve paused by the driver’s side, looking at the tape now in his hands. Eddie had made him a tape. It shouldn’t be a big thing, but it somehow was. He let the smile take over his face before composing himself and getting into the car. Eddie took it back from him, sliding it in and turning the music up. 

“You made me a mixtape,” Steve said, daring a glance to his side to find Eddie sprawled in the passenger seat. 

“So?” Eddie asked, scratching at the side of his face. 

“You made me a mixtape,” he repeated. “You care about me enough to attempt to educate my peasant music taste. ” 

“Don’t get a big head. I’d do it for anyone.” Eddie lifted his thumb to his teeth, smiling around the gesture as he watched Steve. “Oh fuck, this is a good one.” He bent forward and turned the music up, dancing around with his arms and whipping his head back and forth. 

Steve wondered what he looked like on stage with his band. Decided he was going to have to see it for himself sometime, just to see the way Eddie stopped the world, the audience, and spread his exuberance through the crowd. 

When they arrived at Eddie’s place, he jumped out without so much as a goodbye, but then he was at the driver’s side and opened Steve’s door, leaning in the open space. “You coming, Harrington?” 

“Yeah, I’m coming.” He got himself together and followed Eddie inside, dropping to the couch and catching the beer Eddie threw to him. 

Upon his return, Eddie jumped over the backside of the couch, crashing into Steve and nearly knocking the beer out of his hand. “The fuck, Munson.” Steve laughed, though, sinking further into the couch as Eddie laid on top of him before pushing up. They shifted into seated positions, eyeing each other. 

“This might be one of the best summers of my life,” Eddie said after a beat, shaking his head as if he realized how ridiculous it might sound. 

“Even the Vecna bit?” Steve asked. 

“That was spring, dipshit.” 

“Fair enough.” Steve took a sip, watched as Eddie did the same. “This one is definitely up there for me, too.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Bullshit.” 

“What do you mean bullshit?” Bullshit. Bullshit. Bull. Shit. He refused to let it claw its hooks in, refused to let him sink into that memory. “This summer has been great.” 

“My summers have been like… sitting outside of parties to sell drugs, band practices in overheating garages, sitting alone in a trailer park. Yours, though, you’ve had to have, I don’t know, gone on vacations? Gone to a million parties, been with a million girls, I don’t know. You’re working a minimum wage job and spending the majority of your time with The Freak.” 

“I’m not lying,” Steve said. He dipped his toes beneath Eddie’s thigh, both of them still sticky and too warm but wanting to anyway. “Friendship like all this? Fuck, you can’t beat it. I really like Eddie “The Freak” Munson. I really like him.” 

Eddie watched him, face blank, eyes scanning, and Steve’s breath stuttered. He didn’t know what to do with himself, with his hands, with his face. Selfishly, he didn’t want to look away. Really, he never wanted to look away from Eddie, even before he properly understood what it was. Because looking at Eddie had been infinitely fascinating always, a pull from Steve’s heart and head he never quite understood. 

And now it had developed into this, these feelings that were eating Steve alive in the sweetest destruction. There were a million things Eddie was: hot, sure, but also warm and kind and expressive, bursting with energy, making everything in the world seem a little easier when he was by your side. The fact that they could have serious conversations just as easily as they did the dumbest ones. That Steve never got sick of any of it. 

“You like me?” Eddie asked. His voice was slower than normal, a little deeper. Steve’s stomach flipped. “How much, baby?” 

Steve practically growled. “You and those fucking pet names, man.” And then he was nearly flinging his beer onto the side table and lunging forward, bringing himself face to face with Eddie. His hand gripped into Eddie’s hair, tugging him in, and then their lips met. There was too much momentum, teeth clashing, but Steve didn’t mind. He softened it, and for a beat Eddie was frozen, and then he wasn’t. So miraculously, he was anything but. 

Eddie leaned his weight forward, hands seemingly everywhere. His shoulders, his stomach, his hips, and he pushed Steve back to lay on top of him. “Holy shit, Steve.” It was breathless, said between growing kisses, followed by him nipping at Steve’s bottom lip. “You have no idea what you do to me.” 

Steve laughed, Eddie pulling back with a look edging on hurt before Steve was shaking his head. “You would not believe how many times I’ve dreamed about you saying that to me. Like, literally sometimes when you were sleeping right next to me.” 

Eddie shook his head, smile light and full. “You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m an idiot? Who just kissed who?” Steve asked, affronted. 

“Sure, and who has been calling you baby for two months? And touching you here,” he said, grazing hands against his neck, “and here,” moving them to his shoulders, “and here,” they came to Steve’s hips as Eddie leaned back on his knees. “Just begging you to touch me back.”

Steve reached out his hands and clamped them onto Eddie’s hips. Eddie looked down at him, and Steve was lost. Could barely catch his breath. “I’m a little slow on the uptake,” he said, “but that doesn't mean I can’t learn.” 

Eddie trailed his fingers down Steve’s chest, growing closer and closer to Steve’s navel. Steve thought he might disintegrate, might never recover. “Sure we can work on some other things for you to learn.” 

“Fuck, Munson, you’re so—” But Steve didn’t need to finish the thought because Eddie was leaning down again and capturing Steve’s lips. The two kissing as if begging for dominance, a little sloppy, a little unable to contain themselves with the actuality of what they’d both wanted for months finally coming to fruition. 

Eddie’s hand came to the back of Steve’s head, grasping at a little hair and tugging his head back, and a groan released itself from Steve’s throat as Eddie made work on his neck. “Unreal,” Steve mumbled, catching on a breath as Eddie sucked at the spot below his ear. “So beautiful, just perfect. Your fucking eyes and your—” Eddie nipped at the hollow of Steve’s throat, cutting off all the oxygen to Steve’s brain. 

“You’re really a sweet talker,” Eddie whispered, dipping close as if to kiss Steve and then pulling an inch back when Steve pushed forward, teasing him. Steve grunted and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck, bringing those lips exactly where he wanted them. 

“Can’t help it,” Steve said once he’d pulled back for a breath. “Sorry.” 

Eddie raised a brow. “Sorry? This is the hottest moment of my life, don’t apologize. You clearly don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of you all flushed out in front of me, speechless because of what I was doing to you.” 

Steve could barely swallow. “I don’t want this to ever end.” 

Eddie smiled—wide and bright and Steve could do nothing but smile back, in pure amazement that Eddie Munson was real, that he reciprocated every thought and feeling and need Steve had. “I’m not running this time. Who says it has to?” 

Which went against every one of Steve’s fears, his insecurities, but he wanted to believe it. Maybe that was enough for now. 

“Unless, of course, you want to run to my bedroom, in which case…” 

“Yes. Yes. Fuck yes.” Steve pushed Eddie off of him, laughing as he sputtered and dipping forward to kiss him sloppily on the lips before he was tugging him up, pulling him to Eddie’s own bedroom, the two of them taking far too long as they kissed against every surface before finally falling into bed together. 

In the middle of the night, neither able to fall asleep but whispering things back and forth like middle schoolers at a sleepover, Steve rested his head on Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s hands went into his hair, scratching at his scalp. Steve suspected that maybe they were both afraid this was a dream, that falling asleep might break the magic of what had all happened. 

He’d never felt consumed before by another human being. So unconscious in his own body, his brain shutting off so he wasn’t thinking about what he was supposed to be doing and instead moving purely on instinct, on Eddie’s moans and breaths and touches. Steve wondered if love felt different every time you had it. Where Nancy was like a steady stream—cool, constant, refreshing, Eddie was a house on fire—all-encompassing, burning you from every side, so fucking alive and unpredictable. Untamable. 

“When did…” Steve started, tracing a finger over Eddie’s chest, trying to twist his brain into finding the right words, “you start liking me?” 

“Like like?” Eddie teased. 

Steve snorted. “Like like.”

“You’ve always been hot, Steve. Like, I remember watching you in the halls and thinking about it, but I didn’t know you. What I knew about you…”

“Yeah, an asshole.” 

Eddie laughed softly, tracing his fingers through his scalp lighter, the touches barely there so that Steve pushed his head harder into his hand, begging him not to stop. “Maybe, yeah. It was when we were leaving Skull Rock and you told me to get my stuff.” 

Steve popped up, an incredulous smile. “You’re kidding. I wasn’t even being smooth or charming, I was just being… I don’t know, I was frustrated.” 

“But you see, Steve, I think you only get properly aggravated with people you care about. And then I realized you actually cared what happened to me, and all that jealousy was like… it suddenly made sense. In this new way. Plus, you wearing my jean vest all sweaty and bloody? That was sexy.” 

“Really are a freak,” Steve said, the words barely coming out his smile was so wide, pulling his face taut. 

“Yeah, a freak you looooooove. ”

“Unfortunately.” Steve shifted so he was lying entirely on Eddie, ignoring the huff he released at the sudden extra weight, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers to watch Eddie’s face illuminated by only the slight moonlight fluttering through his torn curtains. 

“What about you?” Eddie asked. “When did you know?” 

Steve groaned, ducking his head into Eddie’s chest. Eddie cupped his cheeks, making him look at him. “Come on, man. Now I gotta know.” 

“There’s always been something about you I couldn’t quite pin down, something that made me just have to, like, watch and try to understand why you fascinated me. But it was the first night I slept over here, and I’d come back from changing, and the way you looked at me as you took a hit. I don’t know, I couldn’t deny it anymore. That me thinking about you all the time was more than just friendly. It was… you were so hot.” 

“Really are a freak,” Eddie whispered, scooping his thumb along Steve’s cheekbone.

“Your freak?” Steve asked. 

Eddie nodded. “Damn straight, baby.” 

It was the last week before Jonathan and Nancy were leaving for college, all of them in the Byers backyard as Hopper kept grumbling at the grill. The kids (almost sophomores, Steve amended, still unable to process it) were switching between jumping through a sprinkler and sitting around drinking soda and talking about movies or something (Steve didn’t really know). 

“Should we… help him?” Eddie asked, hitting his shoulder into Steve’s. His eyes were narrowed, watching as Hopper cursed as he dropped the tongs. 

“Do you have a lot of grill expertise?” Steve asked. 

“Shit no, but I feel like he needs the moral support.” 

Steve grabbed Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer, planting a kiss on his lips. “I love how you care about other people, but I think he’s going to be alright.” He tilted his head, the both of them turning to look at Joyce placing a reassuring hand on his upper arm. Hopper’s demeanor loosened, released, and Steve got that. Eddie had that sort of effect on him, too. 

“You love me,” Eddie teased, leaning forward and kissing him back. 

There was still something so terrifying about being open like this in front of everyone, of Steve showing how happy he was as if it might disappear right in front of him. The world playing a joke on him for thinking he could be allowed to be this happy. And he wasn’t naive enough to think there wasn’t another monster around the corner, another problem for them to solve, but Steve felt confident they could sustain it. Manage it. That doing it with Eddie at his side might be the best thing for him, honestly, and not all that bad for Eddie, either. 

“I do,” Steve said, honestly and fully and not even afraid for once to admit it. There was no fear looking into Eddie’s eyes. 

“Dads!” Dustin yelled. He was undeterred by the middle finger Eddie flipped his way. “Stop making out and explain to these dweebs how I’m right!” 

Steve stepped back, throwing his arm around Eddie’s waist. “Look at our son. So articulate. So mature.” 

“What a job we’ve done,” Eddie agreed drily. 

Robin jumped between them, breaking apart their arms to stand in the middle. “They’re trying to get Steve to do a D&D campaign, by the way. Mike thinks you’ll ruin it, Steve, but Dustin is standing up for you.” 

“Hey, you little shit, Wheeler!” Steve called. “I’d kill in a campaign, though I still don’t even really know what that means.” 

“Great job, babe. Really good how you fought that 15-year-old.” Eddie reached out and poked Steve’s side, which he slapped back at, Robin trying to deflect from her place between them. 

Robin pulled them over to the kids, all three of them quickly getting steamrolled into the debate, and Steve found it hard to argue because he just kept looking around. Watching all these people in his life he would die for, he would live for. All these people that planted themselves so sturdily in his chest. 

He did argue, of course, because despite his absolute lack of desire to get involved in Dungeons & Dragons (Eddie had tried to explain it only about 100 times, and Steve loved to watch him try he really did, though it made so little difference in his opinions on the matter), he was Steve Harrington. How dare they think he was incapable of anything. 

“My boyfriend is allowed in any of our campaigns,” Eddie said, slamming his fist into his own knee as if it was a gavel. “Dungeon Master veto ruling. Just imagine the chaos this fucker would cause.” 

Steve narrowed his eyes, not entirely sure that was a compliment at all, but he dipped into his side while he smelled the meat finally grilling behind them, listened to the chatter of his friends, watched Jonathan clicking away as he captured all these moments Steve was desperate to never forget. 

The world was moving fast, it always was in Hawkins, but Steve knew now how to hold it in the palm of his hand. How to cherish a moment as it came, and he laid himself into Eddie’s lap. Eddie dipped his fingers to absentmindedly play with his hair, and Steve threw in his barbs when the conversation let up enough for it. The sun was shining, and Robin was smiling at him, and the world was so fucking bright. 

Maybe, just maybe, not everything good had to come to an end. At least, as Steve felt the heat of Eddie beneath him, he surely hoped so. Hope, that was a feeling that felt true, that didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore. That was one he was willing to hold onto.