Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Steve

Three Months Later

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” Steve says, rolling on top of Eddie and pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Baby, wake up, it’s Christmas.”

“It’s not Christmas, actually, not for two days,” Eddie says, not opening one eye. “And it’s too early.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve says. “Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“It’s asleep,” Eddie says, reaching up blindly for Steve and wrapping an arm around him. “C’mere. Close your eyes, come back to sleep.”

“How can I sleep? It’s Christmas party day, we have Secret Santa!”

Eddie laughs. “What if I just blurt out who I got? Can I go back to sleep then?”

“No, that would be cheating,” Steve says, pulling away from him and getting out of bed. “Come on, please?”

Eddie groans, rubbing his eyes and sitting up in bed. “What could you possibly have to do this early in the morning?”

“It’s already eight-thirty!” Steve says, throwing (shirtless) Eddie a sweater. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Well I’m cold now,” Eddie says. “I was previously being kept warm by my annoyingly energetic boyfriend, I don’t know if you know him.”

“He sounds like a great guy,” Steve says, pulling on his own cable knit sweater. “Come on, we need to get a Christmas tree.”

“Can’t we get an artificial one?”

“Absolutely not,” Steve says. “Don’t be a grinch.”

“Fine,” Eddie says, rolling out of bed with a dramatic groan and pulling on the sweater Steve gave him. “Where does one get a real Christmas tree on December twenty-third in New York City?”

Steve shrugs. “We’ll google it on the train. Put a hat on, it’s cold out there.”

They return with the biggest Christmas tree they could find, which they could not, in fact, take on the train. Eddie watches with amusement as Steve carries it down their street, an unfailing cheerfulness on his face.

“Can you please help?” Steve says, peeking around the tree at Eddie.

“Nah,” Eddie says. “I’ll hold the door for you though.”

Steve shakes his head. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“Oh, you love it,” Eddie says, walking ahead of Steve to unlock the door of the bookshop, where they now live.

No longer being supported by David Harrington, Steve and Robin had to part with their fancy uptown apartment. But it’s alright, it was time for both of them to move in with different people anyway. First was  Steve and Eddie, taking up residence above the bookshop with Angela the cat, and then, a little while later, Chrissy and Robin, renting a humble one bedroom together in Brooklyn, which they have since populated with about a hundred plants, and a puppy named Betty. 

“Yes, I do love it,” Steve says with a smile, dragging the tree into the warmth of the shop and sighing. “Now we just need to stand it up and decorate.”

“I thought we were going to let the kids decorate it,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, we are,” Steve says. “But we can help.”

“At least wait until they get here,” Eddie says with a rueful shake of his head. 

Steve reluctantly busies himself with cooking until the brood of children who have taken to hanging out around the bookstore arrive one by one. 

“Steve!” Eddie calls upstairs. “Your kids are here!”

Steve laughs to himself, grabbing a plate of cookies in one hand and a pitcher of hot chocolate in the other and starting down the stairs. 

Him and Eddie have made some renovations since they moved in. Oddly enough, Eddie’s the rich one between them now, with a constant stream of royalties coming in from his album, and lots of money to be made playing small gigs around New York that he books himself. They made the upstairs living area more comfortable, getting a bigger table and chairs into the kitchen so they can have people over for dinner, and making sure that Eddie has room for all his guitar gear around the place. They also fixed up the central heating system and installed better speakers. 

The downstairs is a little different, too; a couple of shelves in the back having been moved over to install a raised circular stage that bands can set up on. The acoustics in the bookshop aren’t half bad, and anything Eddie promotes on instagram draws in a crowd. 

“Guys, I have snacks!” Steve calls, setting down the plate and pitcher on the counter and smiling at the kids. They’re all decked out in Christmas sweaters, Lucas and Dustin carrying big boxes of decorations, and Max and El already fussing with the tree while Mike helps get it into the stand. Steve can see Eddie stuffing a cookie in his mouth. 

“I think I dropped the star somewhere,” Lucas says, frowning down at his box. “I’ll be back.” He walks out the door with a jingling of the bell.

“When does Will get in?” Steve asks a nervous looking Mike, taking the box from Dustin and setting it down by the tree so the girls can start their pinterest-inspired improvement of his shop.

“Tonight,” Mike says, pale face going a bit redder, though that could be charitably attributed to the cold. “Him and Joyce are staying with Jonathan and Nancy. And we’re all having Christmas dinner at my parents' apartment. Nancy wants them to get to know Jonathan, and he wants to be with his family.”

“Do they know about you and Will?”

“I think my mom does,” he says. “She sat me down one day and we had this weird conversation about how she loves me unconditionally and she thinks the Byers are a really nice family. She never actually said she knew, but I'm pretty sure that’s what she meant. I haven’t told my dad.”

“Well, dads are tough,” Steve says. Mike nods. “But I hope things go okay.”

“Thanks,” Mike says, smiling. “Will’s really excited to see you and Eddie.”

“We’re excited to see him, too,” Steve says, smiling at Eddie, who’s currently laughing at something Dustin said.

“Steve!” Max calls to him from across the room. “I  need you to help me hang this!”

“Is that mistletoe?” Steve says, laughing. “Where do you want to put it?”

“Above the door,” she says, opening the door with a jingle of the bell tied to it. “It’s festive.”

“Yeah I guess so. Out of the way,” he says, reaching up to tie the plant around the frame of the door, high enough that it won’t knock people in the head, but low enough to be seen. “Good?” he asks.

“Maybe a little higher.”

He sighs, untying it and raising it. “Better?”

“Looks good to me,” she says, a secret sort of smile on her face. Steve decides he doesn’t want to know and walks back over to Eddie. 

“Those are for the kids,” Steve says, as Eddie bites into another cookie. 

“But I’m hungry,” Eddie says. 

Steve shakes his head. “You’re not going to be hungry when I get you real food.”

“Oh I promise you, I will,” Eddie says.

There’s a jingling of the bells and Steve looks over towards the doors. 

“I found it!” Lucas is saying from the doorway, holding up the star. Steve nudges Eddie, tilting his chin towards Lucas, and Max, who was lingering in the doorway when he got back. 

“What kind of plant is that?” Lucas asks, a bit nervously, Steve thinks.

“It’s mistletoe,” Max says, looking upwards.

“Oh,” Lucas says, eyes widening. “Um. That’s fun.”

“Yeah, well, there’s this tradition, I don’t know if you’re familiar with it,” Max says, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. 

“Yeah…” Lucas says, trying to smile at her, “I think… I might have an idea of what you’re talking about.”

“He’s so nervous,” Eddie murmurs with a smile.

Steve shushes him, smiling as Max rolls her eyes and plants a kiss on Lucas, who stands frozen and wide-eyed for a second before leaning forward and giving her a kiss of his own. 

Eddie and Steve grin at each other quickly turning around and busying themselves with the food before the kids can realize they were watching. 

“Dustin,” Steve calls, “put on some Christmas music.”

“Something jazzy,” Eddie adds, wandering over to help the kids with the tree.

“You should make a Christmas album, Eddie,” Dustin says, putting on an oldies holiday station. 

“Maybe,” Eddie says, “I think I’ll write a few more about Stevie here first.”

“Aw, I feel special,” Steve says, smiling over his shoulder at Eddie. 

“My little self-produced albums that no one will listen to,” Eddie says with a small smile.

“Didn’t you say it was possible that a producer in New York would pick you up?” Max asks skeptically. 

Steve raises an eyebrow, waiting for Eddie’s response. 

“It’s possible,” Eddie says, shifting his eyes away from her.

“Eds,” Steve prompts. 

“Fine,” he says, “I got a few offers already. I’m considering them.”

“Are you really?” Max asks. 

“Nah,” Eddie says with a laugh. “You know, I have a fan base now, I don’t need bad advice to sell records, just money for production, which I have, and creative freedom, which I’d like to hold onto.”

“My little rebel,” Steve says. 

Max shrugs, going back to the tree. 

“The grown up’s party starts at four,” Steve says. “I want these halls fully decked.”

“I want that Yuletide gay, Wheeler,” Eddie says.

“Aye aye, captains,” Dustin says. Steve laughs.

When the kids have done up the bookshop to their hearts’ content, Steve and Eddie reverently place their secret Santa gifts under the tree and drag their TV down the stairs so the kids can watch Krampus (Eddie’s choice, not Steve’s). 

About two minutes into the film, Steve says, “Nope!” and grabs a book off of the nearest shelf to distract himself with, hiding his face in Eddie’s shoulder during all the jump scares. 

And once the movie has drawn to a close, and the kids (and Steve) are all sufficiently creeped out, it’s nearly time for the adults’ Christmas party to start. 

“Put your damn coats on,” Steve says, as Max, Lucas, and Dustin pour out onto the street, all close enough to walk home. 

“My dad will be here any second,” El says softly, nibbling on a leftover cookie.

“Take your time, kiddo,” Eddie says. 

“And Joyce is coming to pick me up,” Mike says. “She’s bringing Will. And Nancy and Jonathan, for your guys’ party.”

“Cool,” Steve says, trying not to make Mike anymore nervous than he already is.

A couple of minutes later, a huge man in a puffy jacket appears in the doorway. Steve flinches. Eddie laughs, whispering into Steve’s ear, “Did you think that was Krampus?”

“No, I did not,” Steve snaps. “Hi, I’m sorry, sir, we’re closed through New Years.”

“Oh, I’m just picking up El,” the man says, coming into the warmth of the bookshop and peeling off his gloves. 

“Hi, dad,” El says, handing him a cookie, which he takes. 

“Oh!” Steve says. “Good to meet you.”

“You too,” he says, coming forward to extend a hand. “Which of you is Steve, and which is Eddie?”

“I’m Steve,” he says, “And this is Eddie.”

“Jim Hopper,” he says, shaking their hands in turn. “It’s good to put faces to the names. El has a lot of fun hanging out over here. All those kids from the school band are such good friends.”

“We’re happy to have them,” Steve says. 

“Well, merry Christmas,” Hopper says with a smile, putting a hand on Eleven’s shoulder to steer her out of the shop. 

As they’re nearing the exit, the door jingles, Joyce Byers appearing out of the snowy darkness, pushing into the shop. Her and Hopper find themselves on either side of the mistletoe hanging above the door frame. 

“Oh!” Joyce exclaims, seeing him. “Gosh, I’m sorry, I couldn’t see anything out there, didn’t mean to bump you.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” Hopper says.

“Thanks,” Joyce says, looking above him with a little laugh. She peaks around his shoulder to look at Steve and Eddie, “Getting cheeky with these decorations, boys.”

“What?” Hopper says, following her gaze. He flushes when he sees the mistletoe. “Oh,” he says.

“Mom, move over,” comes a voice behind her. Jonathan pushes past, holding Nancy’s hand, Will close behind the both of them. 

“Hey, guys,” Steve says, as Nancy and Jonathan greet him and Eddie politely. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see Will and Mike greeting each other, Mike saying something quick before Will wraps his arms around Mike, pulling him close. Steve has to smile. 

“These are my friends,” Steve hears El telling Hopper. 

“I’m Will’s mom,” Joyce tells Hopper. 

“Where should we put the gifts?” Jonathan asks.

“Over here,” Eddie says, leading him to the tree.

Hopper seems to have given up on leaving. El is busy talking to Will and Mike, and he seems to be rather busy himself, talking to Joyce. 

Nancy and Jonathan set down their gifts, moving to the snack table. 

“Oh, I’ve got better food upstairs,” Steve tells them quickly. “Eddie got this fancy clove wine at a bodega.”

“You need any help?” Nancy asks.

Steve hesitates a moment, looking at her. “I guess,” he says. “Eds! We’re going to get the food!”

“Sounds good,” Eddie says, shooting him a thumbs up. 

Nancy follows him up the stairs, Steve pushing open the door with his hip.

“Wow,” Nancy says. 

Steve turns to look at her questioningly. 

“You guys have such a cute place here,” she says.

“Oh,” Steve says. “Thanks.”

Angela is curled up in the kitchen window. Steve walks over to scratch her head. 

“I didn’t know you guys had a cat,” Nancy says, coming over to pet her. “What a little darling.”

“Yeah, she’s a good girl,” Steve says, smiling. “She likes to break stuff in the middle of the night though, she always knocks shit over.”

Nancy laughs. “That sounds about right.”

It’s quiet for a minute. 

“It’s good you guys could come,” Steve says. “You and Jonathan. I know the holidays are busy.”

“Well you’re our friend. You and Eddie.” She pauses, inhaling like she had something to say, and then stopping. After a second she tries again. “I know you helped Mike out,” she says. “In LA.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “I guess.”

“Well, I’m really grateful,” she says. “When he was a little kid, he was so… loyal, and brave, and emotional. Fiery, I guess. And he was starting to lose that, becoming more like our dad. More… I mean, you’ve met our dad.”

“I have met your dad,” Steve says with a light laugh. 

“Not exactly the best model of healthy emotions,” Nancy says, smiling tightly. “But Mike’s so much more like his old self now. And I know it’s not all your doing, but you helped. And I’m very grateful.”

“I’m glad,” Steve says.

She sighs, absently scratching behind Angela’s ears. “And, I think I owe you an apology, too, as well as a thank you.”

Steve swallows. “Oh?” 

She nods sadly. “I… don’t know if you really remember, or if you even care, but I’ve always really, really regretted the way I handled our breakup. The things I said… I think about it a lot, and I guess I’ve never had the courage to say anything to you about it before, but with the new year coming, I thought I should. I kind of thought you hated me before you started hanging around Eddie. But you seem so happy nowadays, and I’m so glad that we’ve become closer. Friends, even.”

Oh.

Steve bites the inside of his cheek. “Thanks,” he says hollowly. 

“I didn’t know how I felt, so I made things about you,” she says, “your behavior, your characteristics, when really I was just scared. Scared of my own emotions, and my life running off in a totally different direction than I’d wanted it to, I guess. But I never should’ve said anything to make you feel like you were the problem, because you really weren’t. You weren’t… unlovable, or unlikeable, or anything like that, you were so good to me, and I knew that at the time. When I told you I loved you, it wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t a feeling I could hold on to. I behaved really selfishly, and I’m sorry, I really am.”

He feels tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. He sort of hates how easily he cries nowadays. On the other hand, it’s amazing how much better it makes him feel. “Thank you for saying that,” he says.

She pursues her lips in a smile. “You’re welcome,” she says. “And, for the record, I’m crazy happy for you and Eddie.”

He nods, smiling, a tear falling from the corner of one eye. He blinks it away, shaking his head at himself. “Sorry,” he says, wiping his face.

“It’s okay,” she says, patting his arm and grabbing the bottle of wine from the counter. “I’ll meet you downstairs, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Steve says, watching her go.

He tries to take a deep breath. But it’s sort of like all the scarred over emotional pain of that last night with Nancy is draining out of him all at once. She’s telling him there’s not something fundamentally wrong with him. She’s telling him that he can stop waiting for the day when Eddie decides it’s actually impossible to love Steve at all. He breathes out. He’s just a person, he thinks. Just a person who maybe can let himself trust. He waits for a second, wiping the tears off his face, and grabbing the cake they bought from the refrigerator, walking back downstairs to rejoin the party.

Chrissy and Robin have arrived, their puppy, Betty on a leash, tucked under Robin’s arm. Joyce and Hopper seem to be edging towards the exit. 

“I’m taking the one train back to Jonathan’s apartment,” Joyce is telling Hopper.

“Oh, we live up that way,” Hopper says. “I could walk you.”

She smiles. “I’d like that,” she says, walking with him and El back towards the exit. “Mike, Will, come on, let the boys have their party.”

The two boys follow her out, all of them bundling up for the cold, and then it’s just the six of them.

“Hi, Steve,” Chrissy says, coming over to give him a hug. Robin waves.

“How’s it going?” she says, Betty licking her face. “We brought the dog, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I see that,” Steve says with a smile, petting the top of the dog’s head. She licks his hand enthusiastically. “Course I don’t mind.”

“Let me see my Godchild!” Eddie calls, walking over to take the dog from Robin. “Hi, baby,” he coos, letting her lick his face.

“Gross,” Steve says.

Robin laughs, pulling him in for a hug. “Good to see you,” she says. 

“I saw you yesterday,” Steve says.

She shrugs. “Bad to see you then. What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know, neutrality?”

“Fine,” she says. “I am seeing you. Happy?”

“Much better,” he says with a laugh. “Good to see you, too, Robbie.”

Nancy and Jonathan have dug into the cake, Chrissy popping the wine. Eddie puts on some album of electric guitar Christmas songs, stuffing his face with cake. 

When they’ve all eaten, they find themselves sitting in a circle around the tree.

“Present time,” Eddie says. He’s sitting in Steve’s lap on the ground, Steve’s arms wrapped lazily around his waist. Chrissy and Robin are in a similar position, Betty curled up near them. Nancy and Jonathan are the only civilized ones, sitting shoulder to shoulder by the space heater. 

“Who’s first,” Chrissy says with a mischievous smile.

“I wanna go first,” Robin says. “Is everyone familiar with the rules of secret santa?”

“At this point, I hope so,” Jonathan says.

“Okay, okay, here I go,” Robin says, picking up a box with her name on it and shaking it, resulting in a dull clunking. Betty yaps excitedly at her ankles. 

“Just open it!” Nancy calls. 

Robin eyes her suspiciously, opening the box and grinning at its contents. 

“What is it?” Chrissy asks from where she’s sitting.

“It is a Phoebe-fucking-Bridgers hoodie!” Robin says, holding up the skeleton sweatshirt with a grin. 

“Oh, we’re gonna share that,” Chrissy says from where she’s sitting.

Robin laughs. “Nancy? Was it you?”

“Guilty,” Nancy says with a smile. “I hope you like it.”

“I love it,” Robin says, smiling and sitting back down next to Chrissy, who immediately steals the hoodie from her. “Babe, c’mon,” Robin pleads. 

“It’s so cozy,” Chrissy says, snuggling into Robin’s lap again. Robin’s complaints seem to dry up after that, pulling Chrissy closer to her.

The rest of the gifts are exchanged, Eddie receiving a James Hetfield funko pop from Robin, and Steve getting a vintage Rolling Stones shirt from Jonathan. They’re all happy and full when people start filtering out, Chrissy and Robin giving Eddie and Steve bear hugs before gathering up Betty and heading back home. Nancy and Jonathan say sweet goodbyes and head off, too. 

“Successful Christmas party,” Steve says.

“Indeed,” Eddie says, standing up with a huff. “We can clean this up in the morning, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve says. “I’ll get it. Just get some rest.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. 

Eddie smiles at him. “Thanks, Stevie,” he says, coming over to kiss Steve on the cheek. “Love you.”

“I love you, too,” Steve says, hands coming to rest lightly on Eddie’s hips. “So much.”

Eddie smiles, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s lips. “I know,” he says. “But I love you more.”

Steve breathes a laugh. “Impossible.”

“Nope,” Eddie says. “Cause it’s true.”

“Can’t be,” Steve says, kissing Eddie again. “Cause I love you more than anyone ever loved anything. Top that.”

“Mm I can think of something else to top,” Eddie says.

“Oh, ew,” Steve says, pulling his face back, grinning in spite of himself. “That was gross.”

“You walked right into it, baby, what was I supposed to do?” Eddie says, grinning in a way that makes his whole face glow a little bit. 

Steve shakes his head. “I’ll clean up in the morning,” he says. “Come upstairs.”

“Did that line actually work?” Eddie asks, laughing as he follows Steve. 

“Of course not,” Steve says, starting up the stairs, “you’re just lucky you’re cute.” 

He giggles as Eddie pushes past him, racing him to bed and pulling him down by the belt loops when they get there.

“You know how cute you look in your little sweater?” Eddie says, hands coming up under Steve’s sweater to run up the sides of his torso. “Something about cable knit.”

“You want me to leave it on?” Steve asks, pushing up on his elbows. “You like me better like this?”

“Oh, let’s not get crazy here,” Eddie says, swiftly pulling the sweater over Steve’s head and kissing the center of his chest, letting his lips travel over Steve’s skin, kissing and biting as he goes, flicking over freckles with his tongue. Steve hums in satisfaction, relaxing back into the pillows and letting Eddie take his time with him, kissing down Steve’s stomach, covering what feels like every inch of Steve’s abdomen with his lips. “Tell me what you want, baby,” Eddie says. “Fingers or mouth?”

Steve forces himself to look up, meeting Eddie’s eyes. God, he’s so beautiful, with his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen. 

“Words, Steve,” Eddie says. 

“Want your mouth,” Steve says.

Eddie smiles. “Got it.”

Steve sighs, head falling back onto the pillow as Eddie undos his jeans and pulls them off, casting them somewhere off the bed, his boxers following them. There’s snow falling outside their window as Eddie takes Steve apart, slow and easy.

“Still with me?” Eddie asks him, when Steve’s eyes drift shut.

“Mmhm,” Steve says. “Just feels good.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie murmurs, easing his mouth back over Steve and drawing a moan past his lips, his left hand resting on Steve’s thigh, keeping him steady. 

The slow pace would almost be tortuous if the hazy pleasure of it wasn’t so good. It’s moments like this, quiet and intimate, when he feels like Eddie might actually understand just exactly how much Steve cares for him. Loves him. He can feel it, in the press of his lips and thrum of his pulse. 

He says it as he comes, sighing out as he grips Eddie’s hair. “I love you.” Over and over again. “Love you, love you so much.”

Eddie comes up to kiss him fiercely, tongue tasting of Steve. “I love you, too,” he says, as Steve tugs at his clothing, pulling his sweater off, then his jeans, rapidly regaining control as Eddie’s eyes go hazy above him. 

“Let me,” Steve says, flipping them over to climb down Eddie’s body and return the favor, taking just as much time, and wanting to live in the moments that Eddie’s breath catch and his fingers tighten in Steve’s hair. 

Beautiful boy, Steve thinks, over and over and over again. 

When they’re done, Eddie reaches for the sweater Steve was wearing and pulls it over his head. “Cold,” he murmurs.

“I know,” Steve says, pulling the blankets higher up around them. “It’s still snowing.”

“It’s so pretty,” Eddie says with a little smile, laying his head on Steve’s chest and looking out the window. Steve threads an arm beneath his shoulders, pulling him close and kissing his forehead. 

The night of Christmas Eve, they borrow Jonathan’s car and Steve drives them out of the city to the suburbs of Long Island. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Eddie says, as Steve drives through Kings. 

“I’m not nervous,” Steve says, smiling patiently as Eddie chews his nails and skips through songs on the radio. “We’re both going to be fine.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “We are. I just haven’t had Christmas at Wayne’s since I was twenty.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Steve says, “last time I had Christmas dinner at a partner’s house, Karen Wheeler got drunk and told me I could have a career in modeling if I wanted to.”

“She’s not wrong,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, but she said it in front of Nancy.”

“Yeah, that’s bad,” Eddie says. “I am… almost entirely sure that Wayne won’t try to get in your pants.”

“Dunno,” Steve says, turning off of the expressway. “He might not be able to resist the signature Harrington charm.”

“Oh, ew,” Eddie says, laughing. But Steve thinks he’s calmed down a little bit. 

“It’s…” Eddie starts, trailing off. “I know you wouldn’t do this intentionally, but if you could avoid saying anything to make Wayne feel bad about the trailer, it would be great.“

“Why would he feel bad about the trailer?” Steve asks earnestly. 

Eddie smiles indulgently. “Come on, Steve, because it’s a trailer?”

“I know,” Steve says. “I’ve never been in a trailer before. I’m kind of excited.”

Eddie scoffs, smiling at Steve. “You’re too fucking nice.”

“I’ll be normal, don’t worry,” Steve says. “Anything, and I mean anything will be better than the Wheeler house. I do not pity Jonathan on this fine evening, I’ll tell you that.”

“Wayne’s gonna love you,” Eddie says. “Just as much as I do.”

Steve smiles to himself, following the directions. “So this is where you grew up, huh?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Eddie says. “Not much to see.”

“I like it,” Steve says. “There are so many trees.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “There are.”

They pull into Wayne’s driveway at half past eight.

“He always takes the night before Christmas off from work,” Eddie says, getting out of the car and excitedly running to the door. He bounces on his heels, waiting for Steve. “Come on,” he says.

“I have to lock the car,” Steve says with a chuckle, walking up to meet Eddie. “Alright,” he says. “I’m ready.”

Eddie knocks. A few minutes later, an older gentleman who bears a passing resemblance to Eddie appears at the door, his solemn face breaking out into a grin when he sees Eddie.

“You made good time!” he says, pulling Eddie into a hug. Steve smiles, watching them. He wasn’t sure what level of friendliness to expect between Eddie and his uncle, but they’re both beaming at each other, hugging like little kids. 

“Steve’s a really good driver,” Eddie says, stepping back so Steve and Wayne can look at each other.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Steve says, holding out a hand to be shaken.

“So,” Wayne says, smiling, “you’re the boy that made an honest man outta my nephew here."

Steve laughs softly. “I guess you could say that.”

“I’m glad to meet you,” Wayne says softly, shaking Steve’s hand. “And I’m sure glad to have you both back for the holiday.”

“Good to be back,” Eddie says, ducking past Wayne into the trailer. “You still keep those chips I like in the big cabinet?”

“Yes,” Wayne says, tiredly but fondly. “You know where to find ‘em.”

“Steve, come here,” Eddie says, from somewhere inside the trailer. “I’ll show you all my old stuff from high school.”

Steve looks apologetically at Wayne, following Eddie through the trailer to where he’s reaching up to a cabinet in the kitchenette. 

“You’re so short,” Steve says, coming up behind Eddie to grab his chips. “Here.”

“Prince Charming,” Eddie says, and Steve actually thinks he might be blushing.

“You gonna show me your bedroom, or what?” Steve asks softly. 

Eddie nods.

“You okay?” Steve asks. 

Eddie smiles, exhaling. “Yeah. But this all feels so real,” he says, shutting his eyes for a second.

Steve freezes. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” Eddie says, grabbing both of Steve’s hands in his. “Not at all. I’m just really happy. Like, you’re here, in my real life, meeting Wayne, standing in my kitchen. You’re real.”

“I’m real,” Steve repeats, squeezing Eddie’s hands. After a second, he feels Eddie’s fingers lightly tapping on the back of his hand. He smiles. “Are you writing a song in your head right now?”

Eddie bites his lip, nodding, looking a bit ashamed. “I got a good idea.”

“Write it down,” Steve says. “Play it for me when we get home.”

Eddie grins, nodding and pulling out his phone to type a quick note out to himself.

He looks up. “When we’re back at our place I’ll play it, yeah?”

“Can’t wait,” Steve says. 

Getting to hear Eddie’s songs before anyone else makes Steve feel like the luckiest person in the world, honestly. It started with little snippets; Eddie practicing in front of him more, and gradually becoming comfortable letting Steve hear the things he writes. Sometimes, he’ll lay his head in Steve’s lap while he reads, guitar held horizontally across his chest, and pluck out snippets of potential melodies before they fall asleep. It makes Steve feel entirely content. 

“Come here,” Eddie says, “I’ll show you my room.”

Steve follows, through the hall to a smallish bedroom. Eddie inhales deeply. 

“I fucking missed this place.”

“It’s so… you,” Steve says, looking around at posters and nicknacks. 

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah I guess it is,” he says. “I took all the good stuff with me when I left for the city. You’re not getting the full experience.”

“What would the full experience consist of?” Steve asks with a small smile.

“Mm, me sneaking you in through the back in the dead of night, because Long Island is full of bigots, and then telling you to be absolutely silent while we had sex because I was terrified that somebody would overhear us and figure out that I was gay?”

“Sounds like a blast,” Steve says with a smirk. “Ever sneak a jock in here?”

“Never once,” Eddie says. “Unless you count Chrissy. I wasn’t brave enough for your type.”

“Well look at you now,” Steve says with a small smile. “Bringing me in through the front door and everything.”

“Eighteen-year-old me would’ve been shocked and appalled.”

“Yeah, me too,” Steve says.

“Come on,” Eddie says. “We’ve gotta watch a Christmas movie with Wayne, it’s tradition.”

“Please don’t pick another scary one,” Steve says as Eddie pulls him back down the hall to where Wayne is going through mail at the tiny kitchen table. There are a couple of bills flattened out.

“Steve wants to watch a scary movie, Wayne,” Eddie says, grinning as he pulls Steve into the living room, an old couch and armchair gathered around a dinky television.

“I really, really don’t,” Steve says, letting Eddie take his wrist and drag him to the couch. “What’s wrong with Rudolph? Or, I don’t know, Frosty the Snowman?”

“I think we have you outvoted, Eddie,” Wayne says, smiling at Steve behind Eddie’s back. “Why don’t you let Steve pick a nice quiet movie for us, son?”

Eddie looks back at them, scrunching his nose in faux disappointment. “Fine,” he says. “Whatever Stevie likes.”

Wayne laughs once. “Look at that,” he says. “I’ve never managed to convince him of anything that fast.”

Steve laughs as Eddie curls into him on the couch. Steve pulls a blanket over them and settles his head on Eddie's shoulder.

“Well, Steve’s cuter than you,” Eddie says. 

“You don’t think I know that?” Wayne says, raising an eyebrow as he sinks down into an armchair. “I’ve got The Peanuts Christmas special on DVD.”

“Oh, perfect,” Steve says.

“Eddie knows where it is,” Wayne says, gesturing across the room with a finger. 

“Ugh, why do I have to do it?” Eddie groans, but he’s already getting up.

Steve has to smile, watching Eddie banter with his uncle. When Eddie sits back down, Steve leans back against the arm of the couch, pulling Eddie against his chest and letting himself relax.

It feels good, to be with somebody else who clearly loves and appreciates Eddie as much as Steve does. Everytime Wayne meets Steve’s eyes, it feels like they’re silently exchanging the happiest kind of disbelief at how amazing this boy they have in common is. Eddie Munson, the rockstar who’s happy as anything just to be home for Christmas. 

Steve pulls him a little closer, kissing the top of Eddie’s head. Eddie tilts his eyes up to Steve, smiling curiously, but Steve just smiles back.

About an hour into the movie, Eddie yawns, snuggling down to lay across the couch, head in Steve’s lap. Instinctively, Steve runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair, untangling knots for the rest of the movie. Steve can feel Eddie’s head getting heavier in his lap, his eyes drifting shut. Steve brings his other hand up to rest on his shoulder, thumb circling over the seam of his tee shirt. 

“Gonna get up in a second,” Eddie murmurs, when the credits start to roll, barely intelligable. “Gonna go to bed.”

“I used to find him passed out on that damn couch every morning,” Wayne says,  a slight smile forming at the corner of his mouth. Steve had nearly forgotten that he was there. “Course, he was a little smaller back then. Used to fall asleep watching the TV every night.”

Steve smiles at the image; little Eddie curled up on this couch. Then, all at once, it hurts. Little Eddie, alone all night, trying to find company in the television. Subconsciously, Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s shoulder. “He leaves the TV on at our place, too,” Steve says.

“Guess he hasn’t grown up too much,” Wayne says. “Though I don’t think I’d have much luck carryin’ him to bed nowadays.”

There’s a sadness to it. His crinkled-up eyes shining. 

“I’d better get to bed myself,” Wayne says, getting up from his armchair with a groan. His knees pop as he straightens up. “You alright sorting him out on your own?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, smiling. “I’ve got him.”

Wayne nods, eyes misty as he smiles. “Yeah,” he says, word drawn out. “You do, don’t you?”

He walks over to them, reaching down to push Eddie’s bangs back from his forehead, hand lingering there for a second before he nods, seeming satisfied, ruffling Eddie’s hair up a bit and then heading through to his bedroom. Eddie’s eyes stay closed, a tiny smile spreading across his face. 

“Night, son,” he says, looking back. Looking at Steve. 

After a second of stunned silence, Steve manages to say, “Goodnight, sir.”

“Call me Wayne,” he says, retreating into his room and shutting the door. 

Son. 

Him? Son? Steve’s own father didn’t really seem too pleased about calling him son, and this man just unhesitatingly claimed him? It makes his chest warm. 

He thinks he can tell where Eddie got his goodness from. The walls are radiating with it. 

“Baby,” Steve says, shaking Eddie’s shoulder gently to wake him up. “It’s bedtime. When you wake up it’ll be Christmas.”

Eddie grins sleepily. “Okay,” he says, threading an arm around Steve’s neck. “Bedtime.”

Steve can’t help but smile as he walks Eddie through the trailer, to his horror-movie-death-metal enthusiast nightmare of a childhood bedroom and lowers him down into bed, laying down next to him and wrapping Eddie up protectively in his arms. The mattress is small, but Steve really doesn’t mind it. It only gets him closer to Eddie.

“You take such good care of me,” Eddie murmurs, settling back into Steve’s arms. 

“I love you,” Steve says, smiling as Eddie yawns. 

“Merry Christmas,” Eddie says sleepily. “Love you, too.”

He drifts back off in another minute, Steve watching him for a little while before he lets himself go too, Eddie safe in his arms.

In the morning, there are pancakes and gift exchanges. Wayne got Steve and Eddie both socks, which Eddie seems entirely thrilled with.

“I know you do a lot of walking in the city,” he says, by way of explanation. “Nothing’ll kill your feet like bad socks."

And honestly, Steve’s feet always hurt, and he thinks it’s one of the most thoughtful presents he’s ever been given.

But now comes the difficult part.

Steve knows what Eddie’s been planning, though he doesn’t know how to help with it, or if it’s even his place to be involved at all. He wonders if he should leave the room as Eddie clears his throat.

“Wayne,” Eddie says.

“Yes?” Wayne says easily.

Steve can see Eddie’s throat working as he swallows nervously. Steve reaches over to take his hand. Eddie looks at him gratefully.

“Well,” Eddie says. “You know, you’re really my only family. My only blood relative, anyway. And… it’s Christmas.”

“Yes it is,” Wayne says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie.

“I want to give you something,” Eddie says, breathing in deeply. “When I sold my record, they paid me something called an advance, which is basically a certain amount of money they give you, expecting that you’ll make more than it. And when you make enough to earn out of your advance, you start earning royalties. And I’ve been earning royalties for a little while now, so I… I want to give you the advance. I haven’t spent a penny of it, I want you to have it.”

He's squeezing Steve’s hand hard enough to blanch his knuckles. Steve just squeezes back. Wayne says silent.

Then, Wayne looks at Eddie and says, “No.”

Eddie looks back at him. “Yes,” he says.

“No,” Wayne says. “You two could use that money for all sorts of things I wouldn’t even think of. I’m not about to take it from you.”

“Wayne, we don’t need it,” Eddie says. “I’m going to write a new album and I could… potentially make even more on that because I won’t owe any percentage to the company. And even if I didn’t make a cent, I’ve got royalties, and money from shows, and Steve has a great job. You could buy a house, and a car. You could start working during the daytime, get a day off every week, imagine that.”

Wayne pales. “Eddie, how much are we talking here?”

Eddie bites his lip, pulling a slightly crinkled check from his back pocket. “This is a bank check,” he says.

Wayne takes the envelope from him warily, tearing it open and holding the check close to his face, squinting at the number.

“Need my glasses,” he mutters before apparently reading it, and looking back at Eddie wide eyed.

“Listen,” Eddie says quickly, keeping his voice low. “My whole entire life, I’ve been trying to think of a way to repay you for everything. I know you didn’t have to raise me, and I know you didn’t have to put up with all my bullshit, and I really know that you didn’t have to keep putting up with my bullshit after I turned eighteen, but you did. So come on, old man, just take the money. As a favor to me, if anything, because I don’t know what to do with it all, and you’re the only reason I survived long enough to make the damn album in the first place. You deserve it. We’ll get you a big house uptown, with lots of windows, and a huge bathtub.”

Wayne casts his gaze down, and Steve sees tears spilling over the red rims of his eyes.

“Jesus, Eddie,” he says. “Why’d you have to go and say a thing like that?”

“It’s true,” Eddie says. “You gave me everything, now let me give you what I can.”

Wayne blinks a few more times, tears spilling over. Steve lets go of Eddie’s hand and watches as he takes both of Wayne’s work-weathered hands in his. Finally, after what seems like forever, Wayne nods, and Eddie grins like a sunbeam.

When they get home from Wayne’s, and it’s too late at night to technically be called Christmas anymore, they’re both stuffed and tired.

In the morning, Steve checks their mail and finds a handwritten card tucked in with the newspapers and bills.

“Eds!” he calls, walking back up the stairs to where Eddie is still cuddled up warm in bed.

“Mm?” Eddie asks, blinking his eyes open.

“We got something,” Steve says, opening the envelope and smiling. “Murray and Alexi,” he says. “They invited us to their wedding.”

“Oh, rad,” Eddie says, taking the card from Steve to read it over. “I love those guys.”

“Yeah, me too,” Steve says. “They’re sort of responsible for this relationship, you know?”

“Nah,” Eddie says. “You would’ve come around to it eventually.”

“Maybe,” Steve says, but truthfully, he’s not sure. And it scares the fuck out of him. So he lets Eddie pull him back into bed and thanks God for Murray Bauman.

It’s a few months later when the wedding comes around. Eddie dresses up in a sharp black suit, still riding the high from the release of his new, self-produced album, which ranked unusually high on the charts, considering its production. Eddie’s hair has grown back to past his shoulders, and he’s gotten a couple of new tattoos; a black cat complimenting the bats on his forearm, and a cluster of stars on the inside of his wrist which he claims remind him of Steve. My little starfucker, he said, endearingly, when he first showed Steve.

Steve follows in a blue suit of his own, hair slicked back, a small E newly tattooed on the side of his ribcage.

Chrissy and Robin were invited, too, and they all sit together at a table at the reception, once Murray and Alexi have said their vows and the party’s gotten started.

There are a shocking number of youngish couples scattered around the room. Steve wonders how many of them can owe their relationship to Murray.

“Will and Mike sent pictures from their prom,” Eddie says, snapping Steve out of his wonderings.

“Can’t believe Wheeler flew to California for that shit,” Robin says. “I skipped prom.”

“Me too,” Eddie says. “Yet here we sit, dating the prom king and queen. Guess it’s working out for us.”

Chrissy giggles, kissing Robin’s cheek and making her blush a dark red.

“I would’ve taken you to prom if I’d known you then,” Chrissy says. “You would’ve been the prettiest girl there.”

Eddie turns to him, smirking knowingly. “Stevie, would you have taken me to prom if you’d known me in high school? Would I have been the prettiest boy there?”

“Don’t make fun,” Chrissy says, throwing a napkin at him.

He laughs. “I’m making fun of Steve, not you! Come on, Steve, answer the question!”

“I mean…” Steve says doubtfully. “If you’d really wanted me to, I guess I would’ve.”

“Like, as a prank though,” Eddie says.

“Nah,” Steve says. “Would’ve stuffed the ballot box and let you beat me to prom king.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, smirking as he shakes his head.

A while later, Murray comes over to greet them, everyone excitedly hugging and congratulating him. He smiles at the two couples, as if examining his handiwork.

“Thank you, thank you,” he says, waving a hand. “Can I borrow Eddie and Robin for a moment?”

Steve raises an eyebrow at Eddie, but sends him along, shrugging as Robin gets up to go, too.

“Gosh, I hope he’s not too drunk,” Chrissy says, giving a telltale giggle that tells Steve she might be a little bit drunk herself.

“I think it’ll be fine,” Steve says.

When Eddie and Robin return to the table, they’re tight lipped about what he said.

“Don’t sweat it,” Eddie says, though he appears a bit shaken himself.

“No big deal,” Robin says, and pulls Chrissy off onto the dancefloor, likely to distract her.

It’s during the speeches that Steve figures out what’s really going on.

“Attention, attention,” Murray says, clinking his fork on a glass. “Usually, during this portion of the night, you would all listen to my close friends talk about me and Alexi. But instead, we’ve decided we’d like to hear you all talk about your own successful relationships. Because what’s more inspiring than love?”

His voice is a bit sarcastic, but he gives a genuine smile out into the crowd.

“So,” Murray says. “To start off, we have our very own Robin Buckley. Robin, take the mike.”

Robin walks up to the front of the banquet hall, blushing furiously, and wiping her hands over the front of her suit before she starts speaking.

“So,” she says, smiling nervously. “Apparently I owe more to Murray than I originally thought I did. My beautiful girlfriend, Chrissy, is my date tonight. And, I guess I can give Murray credit for that relationship. Um, just so everyone knows, I didn’t write a word of this down, so I’m sorry if it sucks. But, yeah, Murray was sort of the kick in the ass we needed to get together, I guess. Which speaks sort of to this greater issue, I think, that a lot of people are afraid of doing things that would make them happy? Because they have this idea in their head that the opposite of success is loss, which isn’t true. I think the opposite of success is gain. Because, I mean, we’ve all had relationships go sour in our lives. Steve knows what I’m talking about. Shoutout to Steve, in the back there, with the hair, yeah.” She giggles into the microphone. “Sorry, Steve. But, what I’m trying to say is, those failures didn’t make me less, they made me more. I learned about myself, and what I wanted, and with every person who failed to make me entirely happy, I learned what things I didn’t like. And when I met Chrissy, I knew that she was the one for me, because I couldn’t find a single one of those stupid things to dislike about her. And so, all those failures sort of became the most helpful things. Because when I met Chris, I was ready to love her, and it didn’t feel like a hole being patched up in my chest, it felt like a gift. Something I could appreciate without fighting for. Something I could sit with.”

Chrissy is tearing up. Steve might be tearing up a little bit, too.

“So, anyway,” Robin says. “Thank you, Murray, and that’s my two cents on love. Never be afraid of wanting something. And never be afraid of not knowing what you want. You'll figure it out in time."

There’s a cheerful round of applause, and Robin returns to the table blushing, her face going even redder when Chrissy pulls her into her lap and kisses her feverishly. Steve laughs lightly, watching as a few more people go up and sing Murray’s praises.

“And lastly,” Murray says, “our resident rock star, which is not a joke, Eddie Munson, come on, your turn, buddy.”

Steve’s stomach flips as Eddie gets up, walking to the front and smiling at Murray.

“Hey, everybody,” Eddie says. “Well, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to top all the great stuff everybody just said, but luckily, Murray told me I could sing instead of speaking, which is a lot more my speed, so, uh,” he reaches behind him, until somebody takes pity on him and hands him an acoustic guitar, which came from God knows where. “Alright,” Eddie says, testing his fingers silently over the frets. “So. Uh, I didn’t write this song. Somebody a lot more talented named Nick Cave kind of beat me to it. But, before my mom died, she used to sing me this song, to get me to sleep. And I think that was the first time I ever felt… love, really,” his cheeks are red. He’s looking down at the guitar as he speaks, not meeting the eyes of the crowd. Steve wants to get up and hug him, but forces himself to sit still.

“It was my mom first,” Eddie continues, “and maybe that’s why I’ve always sort of associated music with love, I don’t know. But, more recently, a guy named Steve Harrington has made me feel more loved than I thought was possible. Not just for me, I mean, he makes me feel better than I thought one human could feel. And I don’t know how to say I love you without it sounding like some cheap line that we throw back and forth. So maybe this will help show him just a little bit. Steve, this is ‘Into My Arms’ by Nick Cave, and this is for you,” he says, and then adds softly, “they’re all for you. Always have been.”

And then, he starts to play, gentle chords echoing from the acoustic around the silent room. Steve doesn’t blink as Eddie sings, the softness of the lyrics smoothing over the roughness of his voice.

And I don't believe in the existence of angels
But looking at you I wonder if that's true
But if I did I would summon them together
And ask them to watch over you

Steve can see the concentration on his face, but as the lyrics progress, Eddie’s move from the frets of the guitar to Steve’s face.

But I believe in love
And I know that you do too
And I believe in some kind of path
That we can walk down, me and you
So keep your candle burning
And make the journey bright and pure
That he will keep returning
Always and evermore

Into my arms

And when Eddie finishes singing, the words trailing off and getting lost among the echoing chords, Steve is sure there isn’t a dry eye in the room. And he’s sure no one minds when he gets out of his seat and crushes Eddie into a hug, the guitar smushing between them.

“Steve-“ Eddie says.

“I love you,” Steve says, and kisses him hard, and tries to tell him everything with that silent motion, tell him that he’s never been happier in his entire fucking life than he is in that exact moment, that life was gray and blue and now it’s golden, that Steve feels like a part of him he didn’t know was numb has been woken up, that he would do anything to keep holding Eddie like this for the rest of his life.

And when he pulls back, Eddie is smiling, face flushed, eyes wide. “Steve,” he says. “I love you,” he says. “I love you more than my guitars, I love you more than anything.”

And Steve laughs tearfully, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s. “Stupid romantic gesture,” he says. “I never would’ve gone for this shit before I met you.”

“You seem pretty into it now,” Eddie says.

Steve laughs, and thinks maybe one of these days he’ll crack open one of those romance books he swears he hates. But then again, maybe not. Because he can’t think of anything he could possibly read that would be anywhere near this.

His beautiful boy, and his perfect life.

"I love you," he says again. And there's not a thing in the world that could make him doubt the words.

The End