Archive of Our Own

He hadn’t talked to Robin in about three days when he’d decided to hop in his old BMW, peeling out of his driveway with little else but a two weeks notice and a duffle bag full of the shit he cared about. She was probably going to be mad at him, he figured, but there’d been something far too tempting about the concept, enough to make her inevitable five minutes of unbridled fury worth it and then some. 

(They’d never gone three days without talking. He was probably not going to grab a working phone for at least another twelve hours, and wasn’t sure if it would be worth it to ruin the surprise anyways, so he’d make up for that too when he saw her.)

The thing was, Steve had always loved the idea of just getting in his car and leaving. A bit like a fantasy he’d toyed with, back when his house was too big and cold, when the high school halls shifted just that side of unreal, when he’d gotten his ass handed to him by the up and coming school king and thrown up colors for two days. He’d think about it, sliding into the leather seats with the moonlight cold and full on the dash, hearing the engine purr into a roar as the guitars on his tape deck screamed with it– following the big bright moon straight down the dotted lines until daybreak. 

Kind of enticing, like a siren’s song he always had to blink awake from– too many things to do, places to go. No time to run off until the impulse shook free from his bones. 

Well, at least not until now. 

Robin had gone off to school several months back, getting into Stanford of all places because her big beautiful rambling had landed her a big beautiful scholarship somewhere along the line. It had been an incredible opportunity for her, she’d been absolutely terrified. 

‘Steve,’ she’d said, having biked all the way over to his house at three in the afternoon on a Sunday, hair askew and eyeliner dark and hollow on her face. ‘I think I got in?’ 

He’d just pulled her through the door and bundled her up on his couch without saying much, not really knowing what to say other than ‘damn, Buck’ and ‘that’s amazing’. She’d burrowed her way back out after a while, eyes huge and swimming with a quiet, ‘you’ll visit, right?’ 

Steve had promised he would, because it was hard on her to move all the way out there on her own, but it was hard on him too. Bit like losing an orbit, floating into the pitch black night without a hope of finding gravity. There just hadn’t been the right time between work shifts and his parents stopping by unannounced and actually staying for once, and her exams and immediate falling into step with the girls in her program like he knew she would. 

There’d never really been a home for him like Robin Buckley, he knew. She’d left Hawkins and taken the whole damn sun with her. 

Steve had always been a bit standoffish, maybe, behind all the forced charm. He didn’t really do close knit friendships or deep meaningful connections, hadn’t even really dated around seriously in his glory days. Just seemed kind of pointless, like everything in the damn town was just stale– brittle and waiting to snap apart, get carried downstream to warmer oceans. Robin had stumbled her way into his life, all knobby kneed and snarky one liners and they’d sort of both clicked into place without meaning to. He’d never known anyone to call him out so succinctly on his shit but also unconditionally support him like her. 

Their last phone call had been partially about that, about the way they hated being separated like this, how she wished he was taking her psych classes too and could side eye her about the shit this girl Melissa said. About how Steve would love San Francisco, how she really, truly felt like herself out there by the ocean most days. Like standing where the salt spray almost touched made the world bigger.

It had been partially about her break up, too, hence…

Well, hence. 

He hadn’t even really left a goodbye note outside of the see you later notice he’d placed on the counter for Keith to find first thing the next day, and maybe the missing keys for the car. Not like his parents would notice until he was miles out anyways. Not like they’d care enough to come after him. 

It was just. Living in a small town like Hawkins felt a bit like breathing in dust. You grew up with it, got used to it, even craved it sometimes when you were gone for a while and knew you’d be coming back, but it was still there. Hard and sharp in your chest, a poison waiting for another day that built bigger and thicker the more you went on ignoring it. You had to get out one day, or it would bury you under it. 

Maybe that was just how Steve felt, pristine house and empty halls and all. Felt like a weight hanging off him every day until he could just lose it, lie down and let it roll over him until he was rounded out by the waves and shaped into the perfect marble of a son they expected him to be. He wasn’t, though. Greatest fucking Harrington failure, sole heir to a throne he refused to ever step up and take.

The siren's song of the moon just got louder and louder. 

In his defense, he’d been maintaining the car for going on six years by himself for the most part. Knew how to repair most things before he’d even graduated; a road trip, even as far as it was set to be, should have been a breeze. He had enough savings for a motel every evening, and cash to burn for food and repairs and then some. It should have been more than fine. 

When the tire popped and forced him to skid loudly to the wrong side of the highway he’d thought, ‘sorry Robbie, going on day six’. Then he’d thought ‘the trunk feels more hollow than it should’ as he’d horrifyingly remembered that he’d had to use the spare last summer and never gotten around to replacing it after his father started tracking his finances. Then he thought ‘Buckley is actually going to gut punch me if I die out here’. 

It would be his luck, some kind of karmic retribution for all his years spent as a cliched high school dickhead (Robin’s words would be more like ‘deranged jock cookie cutter clone’ because she liked the way it made it feel like a possession he’d shaken off or something) finally circling its way back in the most specific ways. Like the universe telling him ‘you thought it’d be that easy to run?’ Kind of felt monumental at the time, in a way that was panic laden and anger inducing. 

Out here, in the middle of nowhere, he thought, surveying the landscape. A flat expanse of dry as hell Nebraska nothing, perfect place for the entire universe to tell him to go fuck himself.  

He hadn’t seen any turn off signs for the last few miles, either. Not a single gas station notice, no far off oasis on the rolling hills. Just a lot of road and random passing cars that didn’t seem to want to slow down at all– not that he could blame them, really. 

“Fuck,” he said, just to really drive it home.

There were probably funnier ways to die, was the thing. He’d always assumed he’d at least be part of some fucked up conspiracy theory if he didn’t die of pissing off guys who hit like brick shit houses first. He hoped Robin would at least do him the solid of not reading whatever new story they published about him, put in a good picture that didn’t make him look like a sneering piece of shit. Maybe he could stage it like an alien abduction if he really tried, save himself the embarrassment. 

The few cars that passed him didn’t even hesitate, which seemed even more pathetic. He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair and deciding to at least assess the damage. The rim didn’t look cracked, which was a bonus. Plain and simple punctured tire– “what kind of asshole leaves nails on a main road? Jesus christ”-- which, hilariously enough, would have been the type of thing he could normally replace in ten seconds flat with his eyes closed. If he had a spare tire, or even a patch and pump, moot point really. 

He held a hand out to the car nearing up the hill– zoomed past without so much as a brake light. “Well, Bobbie,” he sighed to himself. “Your theory about Harrington charm isn’t working out so far.” 

‘Hair itself is a powerful magnet,’ she’d say. ‘Certainly wasn’t your brains that got the ladies before, huh?’ 

If he knew which direction a gas station even was, maybe he’d make the trek. Then again, car like this by itself out here would probably mean his trip would be over before it even started, and a full house arrest from his parents despite the fact he was twenty two and the car was insured under his name. 

Maybe it was stupid, to think he could leave that easy. Maybe the dust had already built up too thick in him. 

A van hurtled past him on the road, going East, the long lonesome stretch towards empty Hawkins.  Steve sighed, pushed a hand through his hair. “For the love of–” the van squealed loudly, like metal slamming on brakes. Steve blinked up. 

‘See?’ The Robin haunting him said. ‘Matter of time– hair magnet, people are obsessed with it. That or your palpable loser energy, maybe. Got a sad wet dog thing going.’  

It had been a few hours, honestly, that he’d been sitting around at this point. Long enough he’d given up even attempting to find the gas stations on his map and started just sitting on the hood looking thoroughly depressing in the hopes someone would at least put him out of his embarrassed misery. He’d started anticipating that it would, like, rain on him. And that the cars speeding past would splash him uncaringly just to dig it in deeper. Maybe he’d get hit by lightning too, at least then he’d have a cool story.

He squinted through the late evening sun to see possibly the most beat up looking van reversing towards him, out on the open highway. Serial killer , Steve thought distantly, reaching as subtly as possible for a wrench. Go for the head. 

“Hey!” A voice called out, Steve thought he could see a leather clad arm poking through the window. “You need a ride?” 

“Uh,” he said, frowning. He could practically hear Robin’s voice in his head, ‘you’re really angling to die out here dipshit? ’ “Yeah, Bobbin,” he said quieter under his breath. “Random serial killers in musty vans sounds like my ideal afternoon.” 

A head poked through the window, reversed close enough now that it slid to a stop.

“Long way to a gas station.” The guy had a long mane of curly hair, big dark eyes to boot. He looked… around Steve’s age, maybe. Eyebrow piercing made him look questionably older. He also looked scrawny, like he was maybe more the type to run than to throw a punch. The odds tilted ever more against imaginary Robin’s favor. He was also grinning, relaxed and easy, like he was perfectly in his comfort zone talking to some random guy on the side of the road; all strangely tickled amusement, a spark in the eyes. 

“Look,” the guy held up a hand, ring clad and palm out, showing off a complicated tattoo under his sleeves in the process. “I don’t normally go around offering random Ken doll looking models help but, seems like you’re really having a shit one.” 

“You could say that.” Steve sighed. Fucking Nebraska. Of course it had to be smack dab in the middle– too far to call it quits, too far to even feel a modicum of pride about the journey. Something to be said about rocks and hard places, right? 

The thing was, the guy definitely had some kind of intimidating aura he was trying to go for, all smudged eyeliner and tangled waves of hair. He smiled like he was half expecting to get it launched right off, though, like kindness was a default he was trying to cover up for. Just kind of made him look interesting, to be honest. Made him look sweet. 

Steve put his hands on his hips, squinting. “You know how to change a tire?” 

The guy laughed, it was a little manic sounding, all high in the nose. “Nope!” 

Steve blinked at him. “What do you get out of it?” 

“Hm,” the guy tapped his chin. “You could buy me a burger?” 

Steve scowled. “Can’t buy your own burger?” 

The grin he got back was wild. “You are possibly the most ungrateful down on his luck asshole I’ve ever met, did you know that?” 

“A burger is like, two dollars. Seems a little desperate of you, is all. Maybe I’m better off.” 

“Oh,” the guy laughed again, lower. “You’re a fun one. Come on, promise I don’t bite. Unless asked, that is. Name’s Eddie, if that helps. Eddie Munson.” 

‘Don’t fucking do it,’ made up Robin said. ‘For once in your life, think with the head on your damn shoulders, I am literally begging you.’ 

The road was barren, sun dipping down lower across the miles of ranchland. Steve imagined himself as a dot on a map, red line trailing to where he’d been, uncharted dots to where he thought he’d be going. He thought of mists and woods, and stepping out onto a bridge expecting it to break; stretches of pavement yanking you farther down towards the sunset anyways. 

Sorry, Buckley. You can kill me when you see me. 

“Steve. Harrington. I’m picking the burger place, though.” 

“So, Steve Harrington, where are you from?” The guy, Eddie, said. They’d been driving for all of five minutes, and Steve had learned a few startlingly quick things about him. One, that he didn’t know how to sit still if his frenetic tapping and shifting was anything to go by. Two that he was intensely particular about his music, and had changed the tapes three times already because the ‘mood wasn’t right’. Hadn’t tried to stab him so far, though he had flicked his gaze over Steve’s way nervously like he was expecting Steve to. Which, fair. Probably just as risky for him, actually. 

“Who says I’m not from around here?” He snarked back, folding his arms. 

Eddie snorted. “True, never met a Nebraskan rancher who fixed his hair in my rearview mirror, though.” 

Low blow, Steve frowned. “Hawkins. Indiana. Small town.” 

Eddie blinked, whistled low. “My uncle lives out there, that’s a long drive.”

“Creeping towards murder energy there, Munson.” 

The ranchlands rolled onwards, no sight of a gas station or mechanic as far as he could see, Steve most certainly would not have been able to hoof it over for an easy fix on his own. Seemed more and more like this had been the correct choice, he settled back further. 

“Fair, my bad. Just never met anyone from little ol’ Hawkins, kind of feels like meeting a celebrity.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, real hotshot from the devil town. Didn’t you see my entourage?” 

“Hey,” Eddie grinned at him. “Face like that? It’s a shame, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Do you flirt with every random guy you pick up on the side of the road?” 

Eddie hummed, tapped his fingers. “Only the ones that look like they walked out of a Calvin Klein ad, yeah.” 

Damn , Steve cleared his throat, wrong footed. “For your reference, not that you need to know, but I’m visiting my best friend.”

“In Nebraska?” 

Steve shifted, turning his gaze to the rolling fields beside them. “In California.” 

He wasn’t really expecting the laughter, made him jolt a little in his seat. Made his ears burn, annoyingly. “Sorry, just. That fucking blows, popping a tire here like that. You’ve gone through the ringer and still a marathon ahead of you, huh?” 

He shrugged, untensing. “Guess it helps to be able to count on the kindness of strangers.” He shot a look at Eddie, vaguely pleased at the stunned look that flickered across the other guy’s features for a split second before it faded back into his smirk. 

“Kindness? You can think that if you want, pretty boy. I’m just here for that burger.” 

Pretty boy, another eye roll. “Sure. Well, what brings you out here then? Since you want to be nosey.”

“Ah!” Eddie said, turning up the music suddenly. “That’s an after burgers question I think.” 

Burgers, now was it? Plural. “Whatever man. Once you’ve proven you’re not a murderer, I’ll decide on a burger.” 

“Hard bargain,” Eddie nodded. “Okay, well. I’m not from Hawkins, how’s that? Lived in Chicago for a bit, though.” 

“That’s like, one fifth of a burger.” 

Steve liked the way Eddie’s smile turned inwards sometimes, a little more sweet at the edges before he caught it. Another thing he had abruptly learned, Eddie’s default wasn’t as scary as he seemed to want it to be. “Fine, fine,” Eddie shook his head. “Been living in Kansas City the last few months, had a gig up this way though. Grand Island area. Decided to take the scenic route back.” 

Steve arched a brow. “A gig?” 

Eddie threw an arm back towards the darker part of the van behind them. “Got my stuff in here if you don’t believe me. Rest of the band headed back a few days ago, kind of, I dunno. Wanted to do it solo this time. Apparently fated, huh?” 

“You’re in a band?” Robin in his head seemed mollified by the immediate kinship to some degree, he could hear her practically radiating sudden approval in his mind's eye. Traitor. 

“Eh,” Eddie bit his lip. “I mean, that’s the goal right?” He kind of sighed as he said it though. Steve waited. “It’s just, yanno. Had a band back home, with some friends I actually liked? Didn’t work out but it’s definitely not the same when it’s like, guys that are there for the art of the music or fame or whatever if that makes sense. Less fun.” 

Yeah , Steve thought. I get that. “So you’re pretty good then.”

“In as much as we got a gig, sure. Call me a regular rockstar baby!” He shot a look over at Steve with a waggle of his brow. “What, you want an autograph?” 

“I want a working tire,” Steve said grumpily. “Robin’s in a band– my best friend that I’m uh, visiting.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie tilted his head like he was genuinely interested, it made Steve’s gut twist nicely. “Got a label? Or a record or anything? Must be pretty big for you to drive all the way out to Cali.” 

Steve shook his head, “no, not like that. She, uh, played. In band. Trumpet, you know?” He mimed it awkwardly. 

Eddie winced sympathetically. Yeah, it had been a lot to practically live at her house. Especially when she’d gone through her ‘needing desperately to impress another band girl’ phase– he didn’t think he could hear fully in his left ear from all the practicing. 

“Hm, OK… let me guess. Moved away for college?” 

He knew there was a reflexive smile on his face, kind of couldn’t help it when he talked about her. “Yeah, got a fancy scholarship being a brainiac. Should have guessed. I was driving up to surprise her.” 

“Huh,” Eddie raised his brow. “Must be pretty good friends to drive that long.” 

“We are,” Steve crossed his arms. He got the feeling Eddie was testing the waters here– fair enough, really. No one ever believed they were just friends until yanno, they saw Robin mercilessly bullying the shit out of him maybe. He didn’t know if it was the nerd and the jock dynamic, or the general known fact about King Steve and his trail of broken hearts or what, but no one ever got it the right way. Even when Robin called him rude names in public. 

‘You make it so easy,’ fake Robin said. Ugh. 

Dark eyes fell on the side of his face. “That’s cool. All of my friends were in Chicago mostly. Wouldn’t drive all the way there for any of ‘em though, so, I think that’s nice of you. Whatever that’s worth.”

“Why not visit? Would roadtripping ruin your cool mystery thing?” Steve snorted. 

Eddie looked delighted for some reason. “You know what? For that I might just buy you a burger. Like a shitty one. Flat with fake cheese, but still. Keep flattering me, see where that gets you.” 

Okay , Steve decided, smiling despite himself. Probably not a murderer. 

Steve had been on exactly one trip with his parents when he was little. They’d gone up north to Michigan to visit family, he thinks, or check out a summer cabin his father had been debating buying. The details were fuzzy around the edges. 

He remembered a treeline, a blur of green and grey as the skies clouded over out his car window, the uncomfortable near silence of his parents up front. He remembered the flash of the yellow lines on pavement like a tether pulling them forwards into the mist. 

Mainly, he remembered his father being angry about something or other, some inevitable failing on Steve’s part or his wife’s part probably, and deciding to explore the woods out beside the car when they stopped to look at the map. 

He knows they didn’t go anywhere afterwards, not all together. Not with Steve, anyways. 

Eddie pulled them up to an auto shop with a frankly absurd amount of fanfare, he hoped out and even made a point of opening Steve’s passenger door with a flourish and a bow. 

“My good sir, the resolution for your chariot's demise awaits.” 

“Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and pretend I got any of that,” Steve snorted. “Thanks for the ride.” 

Eddie’s smile quirked on one side. “Hey, I wasn’t yanking your chain about the burger.”

“What, you’ll buy me one for driving me out here?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, hands shoved in his pockets. Goofy Cheshire cat grin out here in the bland expanse of a parking lot, he kind of felt like some off-beat traveling rockstar. “Not like I have anything better to do before I hit the road back home.” 

“You’re a weird guy, you know that?” 

“So I have been told.” 

Steve did not know what to make of that, or him in general if he was honest. Something about the way he rolled his shoulders back, hands tucked into his back pockets as they walked into the shop, all easy practiced nonchalance stuck with him, though. Like a record skipping tracks. 

They arranged for a tow truck to grab his car, Eddie easily rattling off the location to the gruff man behind the counter, leaning forwards and shooting Steve a strange shark toothed grin about the whole thing. Easy fix, all in all. Just sucked it would probably take a few hours– guy said they were short staffed, too, which felt sort of like his luck. 

“You look mighty pissed off for someone who’s getting themselves out of a jam,” Eddie commented once the man went off to file the paperwork and make his calls. 

Steve huffed, “I’ve had this car since I was sixteen. Annoying.” 

Eddie tilted his head, and Steve rolled his eyes with a sigh. “I like to fix it myself, that’s all. Didn’t remember to make sure the spare was in the trunk.” 

The look Eddie gave him was appraising, a slow glide that kind of made him warm and over exposed all over. “I bet you do,” he murmured with a wink. Steve had no idea what to do with that either, swallowing roughly and flicking his gaze elsewhere. 

The mechanic came back over, Steve dutifully handing over his keys and signing the paperwork as prompted, ignoring the whistle from Eddie as he peeked over his shoulder. It wasn’t pretty, the overall price point but, well. Steve had been working full time for months, his best friend across the country and with little else to spend his cash on outside of gas, so. He signed it easily enough, sliding the paper back across the counter. 

And with that, he was stranded for the next few hours. 

“So, what do you say? Burger King? Seems royal enough for you, huh? Can get you one of those little crowns.” Eddie tilted his head towards him. Steve got the sudden impression he’d been sized up somehow while focusing on the specifics of his car with the mechanic, like Eddie had seen right through him somewhere along the line. Maybe it should have made his hackles raise, made the old shitty version of him that liked to shove people away crop up, instead it sort of made him feel like he’d been given some kind of challenge. 

Steve clapped Eddie on the shoulder, “you’re buying.” 

Steve had been on a lot of dates in his life. Most of them were pretty mundane and didn't go too much farther than maybe a ‘call me later’. Growing up as the rich popular kid in a small town did wonders for the appeal probably, even without the meticulously crafted aesthetic. He’d never really found too much of a connection with any of them, though. Nothing super important, just maybe to fool around a little, see a girl grin his way. Liked the idea of being wanted maybe, but never found that spark with any of them; call him a hopeless romantic, Robin sure liked to tease him about it as if she was any better.

Point was, he’d been on a lot of first dates, enough to know what they looked like when he was on them. 

Sitting across from Eddie Munson, supposed wanna be future rockstar, under the painfully shitty lights in small town Nebraska’s version of a Burger King– he was starting to wonder. 

“So, you like shitty burgers, you have a car that’s worth more than my entire life, you like to fix your car but didn’t remember to bring a spare… Tell me more, Steve Harrington. What other sorts of complete juxtapositions are you going to throw at me here.” 

Steve reached for another burger from the stack Eddie had bought them, unwrapping it slowly. “What if I said that was it? You’ve ruined all the, yanno, intrigue right there.” 

Eddie gave him a strange look. “Now I know that’s not true.” 

Steve sighed, planting an elbow on the table and leaning his cheek on it. “Honestly, I think I’m pretty boring.” Enough that the most impulsive thing he’d ever done was currently happening in front of him, anyways. Always played it safe, other than the stint with douchebaggery in his younger years. 

He paused. “I’m allergic to kiwi?” 

Eddie leaned forwards, “Now we’re talking. Come on, keep it going. Favorite color? What did you want to be when you grew up? What’s your greatest fear?”

“Why do I have to do all the talking?” Steve frowned. 

A grin, “Fairs fair, okay fine. My favorite color is red, but like a maroon shade. Creepy and dramatic. I wanted to be a dentist and I’m petrified of men in dorky polos.” 

He glanced down at his shirt, “hey.” 

Eddie laughed, kicking his shin gently under the table. “I did really want to be a dentist, though. Hilariously.” 

Steve smiled. “Favorite color is… blue, I guess? Or, I dunno. Green. Like… forest green. I wanted to be a basketball Hall of Famer. Don’t know what I’d call my biggest fear.”

“Hmm, clowns? You seem like a guy who would hate clowns.”

“Then why am I here with you?” Steve snagged a french fry as Eddie snorted. 

“Oh, alright, wise guy. Next question, best band, and please explain why it’s Dio.” 

“Dio?” Steve squinted, blinking at the appalled gasp Eddie gave him. Full hand to the chest over dramatic backwards lean, too, jesus. 

“I was starting to like you and everything too,” Eddie bemoaned, swiping another burger. “Just for that you’re paying for the next one.” 

Steve felt like he was constantly a half step behind this guy, struggling to translate. “Next one, what?” 

“Way I see it, you’re stuck bumming around here for a while, right? Guy said the car probably wouldn’t be good to go until tomorrow, so. I’m really not in any rush. Far be it from me to leave a damsel in distress, as it were.” 

He… had been a little unclear about the overall gameplan, true. Being stuck in a town he was wildly unfamiliar with didn’t sound ideal– he mostly had thought he could grab a motel bed somewhere and admit to Robin his whole plan had gotten fucked over from the start, quietly admit defeat and head home as soon as he got the go ahead. 

Seemed kind of all over pathetic, though. With how much hot water he was inevitably going to be stepping back across his parent’s front door step– 

“Unless you really have had enough of me already, that is. Say the word and I’m out of your pretty hair.” 

Steve looked at him, really looked. Eddie Munson felt like some half-imagined thing. He had eyeliner dusting the bottoms of his dark eyes, making them look even heavier, edgier, and a thick choker around his neck. With the wild curls and piercing on his brow, it pulled together in a way that made Steve feel like his head was underwater. He was… interested. Wanted to know what it would be like to meet the challenges Eddie seemed to constantly be doling out, to throw him off kilter for once. 

He kind of wanted to know what would happen if he pushed back. 

“Pretty, huh?” He crossed his arms, smirking. “Keep flattering me, see what happens.” 

Eddie blinked, his smile inching farther up on his face.

Sometimes he thought about it. The woods had seemed taller when he was eight, the sort of way that fairytales describe. The dewey mist of morning rain making everything feel vibrant, like it was all breathing with him as he followed it down deeper. He’d found a hollowed out tree across a river, covered in moss and mushrooms and it had practically screamed storybook at him, enough that he hadn’t thought for a second about crossing it. 

It was the kind of tree that was too large to wrap your arms around, he remembers, the kind that creaked when he’d stepped on it. 

He remembers the water underneath being cold. 

“So, world is truly your oyster, Harrington, where to?” 

Steve planted his hands on his hips, surveying the town as much as he could in the fading light. The streetlights hadn’t flickered on just yet, bathing everything in a sort of hazy golden glow, the kind that made everything feel half-real. Like a painting. 

“They got a souvenir shop here? I need an apology gift.” 

Eddie shook his head at him, curls flying. “For your girl?” 

Steve’s smile faded, shrunk maybe. “It’s not like that, she’s just.” He shrugged. Trying to explain how Robin fit with him was like explaining sunlight. It was warm, he could feel it without seeing any sense to it, made the day worth kind of going through the motions for but it wasn’t anything more than that. Or, maybe it was more than anything. 

Eddie’s eyes softened too, smile going sweet. “Nah, I get it. I had a friend like that once, would have done anything for her, you know? Whole city thought I was trying to make a move, I swear, made me a damn pariah for a while. Imagine me, breaking up Mr and Ms Homecoming queen,” he barked a laugh, shaking his head again. “Anyway, I get it. What’s this Robin like anyways?” 

There was something else to unpack there, Steve thought. Like a splinter in an old wound. 

“You’d either hate each other or get along perfectly, I think,” Steve said. “She’s like, the biggest damn nerd I’ve ever met. One time she translated our entire menu into Russian just because she wanted to figure out how to. Tells me off all the time for all of my shit. Awful taste in candy.” There’s no one who got him more easily, really. 

“She sounds hilarious,” Eddie smiled, nudging Steve with his shoulder and gesturing for him to follow down the sidewalk. “What kinds of stuff does she like? We can find her something nice here, I bet.” 

“Um, movies? She’s like, a huge film nerd. Constant trivia. We worked at a movie store together for a while.” 

“What’s her favorite?” 

Steve hummed. “I think it’s kind of a toss up. She likes scary movies, but they make her freak out so I always tell her not to watch them, but then she just makes me watch them with her so we both freak out. Or like, Back to the Future . We watch that a lot.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie turned towards him. “Seen the second one, then?” 

“There’s a second one?” 

Eddie shoved him. “Didn’t you just say you work at a movie store?” 

“Yeah, well,” he didn’t really have a defense for that, felt a little rattled by Eddie’s hands on him also. (Big, long fingers. Ring’s cold on his arm). “I didn’t say I was good a t my job.”

The streets were fairly empty, enough Steve could watch their shadows stretch long and thin in front of them. The storefronts mostly seemed to be for antiques, a few cafes that looked out of place amongst the more aged architecture. 

“What happened? With your friend?” Steve blurted, immediately blushing. Felt like a personal question, maybe too personal for a few burgers and a car ride– maybe there was something to be said about the anonymity though. Not knowing if they’d even see each other again after today sort of sent a flash of lightning through it all, low risk high reward maybe. 

Eddie gave him a side glance, biting his lip. “You don’t have to tell me,” Steve added. 

“Honestly? Nothing, really. She’s probably back home being great and lovely and kicking ass.” 

Steve slowed a step, before speeding up. “But you don’t talk to her anymore?” 

Eddie sighed. “No,” his voice was wistful, wrapped up in something kind of sad. He blinked over at something in front of them. “Ah, there we go. Postcards! There’s gotta be one she’ll like, right? Plenty of nerd references on those things. Come on, tell me, is she a Star Wars person or like, a Star Trek fan?”

“Neither,” Steve followed after. “She likes Rocky Horror, though.” 

Eddie whipped around towards Steve, walking backwards. “Oh?” 

He shrugged, he’d seen the cover and it had seemed kind of fun-goofy, forced her to watch it with him on a random Wednesday and been quietly confused and intrigued the entire time. “I mean, I thought the songs were fun.” 

Eddie’s expression lit up at this, positively delighted. “Steeeve Harrington, boring is absolutely not what you are.” He practically bounced forwards, grabbing Steve’s arm. “Okay, you have to stop saying wildly endearing things for like three seconds though, or I’m going to lose focus. We’re on a mission.” 

Steve knit his brows together, electing to nod along anyways. “She likes cats, too.” 

“Of course,” Eddie said, nonsensically. “Yeah, that makes sense. Let’s get her the best damn cat postcard she’s ever seen.”

They do not, in fact, find the world's best cat postcard. Eddie snags one about Garfield of all things for his uncle, and they manage to find a tiny postcard with a sailor suit clad Ash Williams for some reason, which Steve thinks personally is sort of perfect. 

When Robin had told him about the scholarship, he’d sort of seen it like the way film reels spun around in those upper rooms at the theater. They’d had this fantastic few summers living out of each others back pockets, with Robin sort of rattling him around enough to get his head out of his ass, trailing after this group of dorky kids all day long because neither of them had anything better to be doing outside of mutually assured pathetic codependency. It had to end though, didn’t it? All things did at some point– Henderson and Max and Sinclair were all too old and cool to need him hovering around anymore, Robin and Jonathan and Nance got into crazy cool schools to do badass things like they’d always been destined for, and Steve was. 

Well, Steve was holding down the fort. 

He’d figured it made sense, you know? Someone had to be there to put the new film reel in, make sure it fed correctly and whatever else. He could do that. 

Maybe visiting Robin at school felt a little like leaving it running unattended, maybe it also felt like being part of the film again. 

It was a nice night, all in all. Not really a breeze, just perfectly placid. Carefully storing their new purchases, they decide to stroll around town with their many hours to kill. Steve realizes distantly he could say thanks, bow out of the company and crash at the many motels they pass by, but it seems. Boring. The uninteresting option. Eddie kind of makes him want to be interesting. 

“So, you’ve been to Hawkins, then?” Steve asked. 

“Once or twice,” Eddie said, partially in a sly voice that made Steve quirk a brow at him. “Ha, okay okay. Real answer? I once tried to run away from home, whole cliched dramatic teen thing and hitched it all the way to my uncles. Had this whole plan of living there, been up enough times for the summer, you know? Wayne took one look at me, sighed and said ‘you can stay here tonight, boy, but you know we’re going to have to work things over in the morning’. He told my dad where I was, because you know, he had to, but he didn’t actually come get me right away.” Eddie kicked a rock, shoving his hands in his pockets again and looking down. Steve stayed silent. 

“Funny, isn’t it? Had this whole thing in my head where he’d just never come get me and I could live there. We could have known each other.” He glanced up, locking eyes with Steve for a moment that kick starts in his chest funny. 

He means it like they would have been friends, probably. Maybe like they would have had a hang out spot or smoked at lunch, or maybe he’s smart enough to read the signs anyways. 

Steve grimaced. “I think I’m glad you didn’t know me.” 

“Why? You would have been too cool for little old me?” Eddie said playfully, something stormy flashing in his eyes. 

Steve looked away, “I wasn’t great, back then.” He’d been the worst, actually. Half the time he fantasizes about grabbing younger him by the damn collars and shaking him until he got that none of this popularity shit mattered, that Tommy was just going to go for the next cool new thing the second it came along anyways. Fake, all the way through, all of it was. Hollowed out and ready to break.

The look Eddie gave him was one of those complicated blank ones– something Steve knows he just can’t translate yet, wouldn’t know where to start. “Kids are shitty, man.” 

Steve shrugged, “sure, but I mean. You can probably read ‘ex-jock’ all over me.” 

Eddie didn’t relent, pushed a hand into Steve’s chest to stop him in his tracks. “My best friend was a cheerleader. Most people in high school are kind of awful.” 

“I just mean you wouldn’t have liked me in school, that’s all.” He would have been mean and nasty to someone like Eddie, because he dressed different. Because he was dramatic and weird, and Steve wouldn’t have known how to handle any of it. Sort of hates himself for it, that fictional universe where they’d both been in Hawkins. The town would have ruined them from the start. 

Dark eyes flickered between his, Eddie frowned. “Well, I like you fine now, so. By my books that’s what matters.” 

Steve flushed, swallowing the rest of his thoughts. He didn’t really want this to become a ‘guy he just met has to pump his tires for him’ kind of thing, anyways. He didn’t need to be putting his whole rich kid sob story all over Eddie, that was for Robin’s inevitably shitty couch, and she already knew the important parts. It was nice though, for some reason. To be liked by Eddie. Kind of felt like being known, in some way. 

Helped that he was easy to be known by, it seemed. 

“For the record,” Steve said. “I think you’re pretty cool, too. Yanno, for a potential murderer.” 

It was worth it for the way Eddie laughed, head tilted back and with his whole self. Steve found himself tracking his eyes across the long expanse of neck behind the choker, yeah. Pretty cool. 

He ends up finding a payphone– it’s one of those old things, a full box to step in that they don’t have in Hawkins anywhere. 

“I should tell Robin I’m not actually dead somewhere,” he explained with a sigh. Eddie nodded. 

“Tell her you’re with someone handsome and cool,” Eddie grinned, passing him a few quarters. Steve has his own quarters, has bought Eddie a coffee with bills he pulled out of his wallet. He keeps insisting on paying for things anyways, though, which Steve can’t quite understand. 

Luckily, he had enough practice memorizing Robin’s new number over the last few months, embarrassingly attached to ensuring he knew all of the brand new gossip from her dorm at all times. He punched it in easily enough, laughing a little at the way Eddie breathed on the glass beside him and started drawing some kind of warped smiley back at him. 

“Hello?”

Hearing her voice after this long is kind of amazing, she sounded so annoyed. “Hi, Bobbie.” 

“... I swear to god, if this is you calling because you’re held at ransom or something–”

“No! No, I’m fine.”

“-- or if you’re not, that’s even worse because it has been a full week, Steve, since I have heard your dumbass voice in my ear and frankly, I was concerned you had fallen in a ditch somewhere, or the quarry, and if you’ve just been ignoring me–”

“Wasn’t ignoring you either.” He leaned on the wall, sighing. Eddie caught his eye and gave him a thumbs up, slowly tilting it to a thumbs down, with a quirk to his head like a question. Steve huffed, gave him an ‘iffy’ hand wave back.

“Sorry, Buck, I– I had a surprise for you, wanted it to be kind of, I dunno, fun.” 

“So you decided to leave me hanging?” She sounded mad, but he knows her so well, and can hear the way it was already turning forced. Probably pulled in immediately by the idea of a surprise in general, the dork.

“No, I –” Eddie started mouthing ‘cool and handsome’ at him through the glass, making him smile. “No, sorry. Got distracted. I was… I was actually trying to come up and visit you. Maybe I should have asked first though, if you’re busy with like tests–”

“Stupid!” Robin squeaked, “You’re the worst! You’re coming to visit? When? Like, now?” 

He laughed, pressing the phone tighter to his ear. “Yeah, Bobbin, that’s why I’m calling, because I’m currently driving.” 

She laughed, “shut up! Tell me more!” 

“Which one, asshole!” 

“Maybe for starters, you could tell me why you’re all doofy smiling over the phone? Did you meet someone? Is that why you didn’t call me back? That’s worse, you know that, if you met someone and I didn’t hear about it–” 

“No– well.” He blinked back over at Eddie, who was contentedly tapping out some kind of drum solo on the side of the booth. “I didn’t. Not meet someone.” He decided, wincing as she immediately shrieked a “WHAT” as loud as possible in his ear. 

“It’s– I dunno, we’re just hanging out.” 

She scoffed at him over the line, she sounded delighted at the same time. “You, Steve Harrington, are hanging out. With someone who is not me, and is not one of the hellions back home. Willingly? I will circle back to my kidnapped question if I have to.” 

He scratched his neck, turning away from Eddie a touch, hopefully to hide the heat on his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess.” 

There was a long pause. 

“You have so much to tell me. Get your coiffed hair toting ass over here immediately, I love you so much, glad you’re not dead, fuck off.” And hung up. He laughed again, god he misses her with everything in him, he was so excited to see her again. Honestly, he was not sure how he’s been managing back home like this, just a minute long conversation and it’s like the drought in him has ended. 

He pushed the booth door open, startling Eddie who had been kicking random pebbles into the road it looks like. 

“So!” Eddie said, “how handsome and cool does she think I am?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “She said she’d kick your ass.” Paused. “For being extremely handsome and also very cool, obviously.” 

Eddie pumped a fist, because another thing Steve has realized about him over the past few hours is that he is a huge dork as well. Constantly surrounded by nerds no matter where I go, Steve mused, and it even sounds pretty fond in his head. 

“So, still a go to finish up your trip then?” Eddie asked, and it’s funny in a way, that he pinned down the exact thing Steve was unraveling without even really trying. Maybe Steve really was that obvious. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, “Think I’m still a go.”

“Cool,” Eddie nodded easily. “Think I saw a bar back there.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “What say we have a celebratory drink?” 

Celebratory, like it was some great accomplishment not to quit. Hey, maybe it was. “Sure,” he decided. “Let me guess your drink though.” 

Eddie blinked, grinned. “Oh? Think you have me all figured out, huh?” 

Not even a little , he thought. Surprised himself with the penned on feeling of wanting that came with it, though. He rolled his eyes instead, bumping his shoulder into Eddie’s as he moved past. “Something tells me you’re the type of guy I’d never figure out.” 

It feels a bit like a compliment.

The bar was exactly as shitty as he hoped; peeling wallpaper and mysterious circular stains on the lacquered hardwood tables and all. The bartender looked tired and grumpy, and barely said a word to them when they walked up. It was kind of the perfect small town set up, smoke hanging heavy in the air and turning the walls yellow and the lights low and hazy. Eddie’s smile was a flashlight in the dark, he followed it easily enough. 

“Alright, Stevie,” Stevie , he thought, turning it around in his mind. “Hit me with your best shot.” 

Steve pretended to think, humming to himself. “You’re the type of guy to pick something sweet, I think. But only when you’re with someone who’s picking something hard. If I said sweet you’d tell me you like whiskey on the rocks, just so I’d be wrong.” 

Eddie’s grin is so infectious, his eyes practically sparkled in the dim light. “Wow, you think I’m that much of a contrarian?” 

Steve quirked a brow. “I think you’re arguing with me about being a contrarian, which sort of makes you a contrarian.” 

Eddie leant forward, tucking his ring clad fingers under his chin like the burger place all over again. “Hmm, you might be right about that.” 

“And now you’re agreeing with me just to be extra difficult, I got you Munson.” 

There’d been a flash of that secret smile, the one Steve can’t translate. He flickered his gaze down, tracing Steve’s shirt before looking back up. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm,” he offered, low and casual with just a hint of heat. 

Someone could get addicted to a guy like Eddie Munson, Steve thought. There’s still that wanting, to push back a bit more. See where it goes. Steve swallowed. 

“Usually I make people buy me a drink first,” he said, just as low. “Also, spoken like a real potential murderer. Not helping your case.” Eddie’s eyes darkened, a flash before he laughed again, slapping a hand on the counter. 

“Man, you’re bleeding me dry, Harrington. But you’re on,” Steve missed the way he said Stevie almost instantly, glanced away just to pull his head back on his shoulders. ‘Where’s that King Steve charm?’ he could hear Robin saying. 

Back in Hawkins, probably, where he belongs, he thought, a little morosely. 

Eddie flagged down the bartender, flashing his eyes over to Steve again as he ordered. “Can we get this fine gentleman a Sex on the Beach, please and thank you good sir? I’m good with whatever's on tap.” 

Steve quirked an eyebrow, maybe the charm was still here after all. “Was that supposed to be subtle?” 

‘Hair magnets’ , Robin would say, and probably a lot of fake retching over the absolute cheesiness of the whole thing. She’d probably be mad Steve was getting hit on in a bar while she was nursing a broken heart, actually, something about karma. 

Eddie turned towards him, leaning one elbow on the counter, all easy lines and confidence.  Firelights dancing in his eyes. “Not really.” 

Felt a little like playing with a match, all sharp excitement like this. Steve had always followed a particular path with girls at home, dinner or a movie or both, a walk to the door, a goodbye kiss if it was fine. An invite upstairs when his parents weren’t home (often) when it was better than fine. He’d never done this, hanging out, toeing the lines. Not knowing where it would lead and running right off the page. 

Steve glanced around, dramatic and showy. “Not seeing a beach around here, Munson. Guess you’re out of luck, huh.” Sipped his water slowly, making as intense eye contact as possible. This felt like a date, it made him feel daring maybe. A Steve that would crash right into the sunset, be pulled down the asphalt by that thin yellow line. 

Eddie stared at him back, a little wondrously, so maybe the feeling was at least mutual. 

“Alright folks!” A voice boomed around them, made Steve turn around in his seat until he was facing a tiny makeshift stage. “It’s Thursday night, so you know that means we’re going to get this party rolling.” 

There were a few scant cheers from around the bar; it felt a little homey here, like they were all regulars that convened for their evening hangouts. Low stress, easy conversations type of place, even if it was run down as hell. 

“We’re getting the cassettes going here, and the mics are hot, so remember. First come first serve, see John at the counter for your song requests.” 

Eddie nudged Steve’s arm. “Oh my god, is this a karaoke bar?” 

Steve blinked. They didn’t have these in Hawkins, or at least he wouldn’t have been caught dead at them anyways. Eddie looked thrilled, wild eyed and grinning. Steve settled himself, nudged Eddie back. “Yeah, band boy? You going to get it started?” 

If Eddie had been expecting Steve to suggest they leave or make fun of the idea, he didn’t show it. “Oh, sweetheart, there is no way I’m going up there–” Steve breathed out a bit in disappointment, there was something thrilling about the idea of seeing Eddie really own his supposed element like that. Like a way of balancing out the scales, seeing if he was all smoke and mirrors or if he’d still be there with the lights up. “-- alone, at least.” 

“What?” Steve’s brows crashed inwards. 

Eddie tapped his fingers along Steve’s arm. “Come on, no one here will know who you are in less than twelve hours. Walk on the wild side with me, huh? I bet you sing real pretty.” 

Steve had no idea if that was true, he’d never really tried to, beyond jokey little one offs to woo the ladies or whatever. Scream singing with Robin when they were having one of their monthly ‘we’re hopelessly pathetic’ lose it fests didn’t really count either. 

The patrons at the bar seemed mostly uninterested, shuffling back to their conversations. It was sort of magical, to think of anonymity like a mask– he’d always been known back home, had expectations. Could really only shake it all off himself when he was shut up tight in his mausoleum of a house, sort of paradoxically. Being able to be whoever he wanted to be here– that was something, kind of spun through him like sugar, or starlight. 

The bartender slid them their drinks, Steve lifted his in thanks before downing it and snagging Eddie’s to take a long swig also. 

“I get to pick the song,” Steve said. 

“You are the most bossy person I’ve ever met,” Eddie said, delighted. “Just don’t pick anything that will make me immediately lose my reputation, princess.” 

“You sing it well we won’t have a problem,” Steve shot back, sliding off his stool. Mentally, he shuffled through the songs he knew nonetheless. Something Eddie would maybe like. His jacket had all these names pinned all over, ones he only vaguely knew at best. Harder stuff than Steve listened to normally, at least. His best guess was that Eddie would probably not be down for Bruce Springsteen, unfortunately. 

He thought about the movie nights Robin always had with him, the soundtracks that always added to the action moments. Made them feel real and badass, kind of wild the way Eddie would probably enjoy, heavy on the guitars. He’d seen the real shiny one amidst all the other equipment in the back of his van, so probably a safe bet there. 

“Hi,” he said, walking up to the man setting up the music system. “Got a song request for you.” 

They had a few more drinks before the song came up, enough that Steve was feeling pleasantly warm, looser. Less worried about the random people in the bar and their eyes on him– being no one was kind of a lot, it was kind of everything. 

“Come on, what did you pick? I gotta know,” Eddie teased, leaning in close. Steve shook his head. 

“You’ll know when I pull you up there.” 

Eddie sighed, “if I’m the one singing it, I feel like I should at least make sure I know it.” 

Steve shrugged, it was pretty likely Eddie would know it anyways. “If you don’t know it, I’ll buy the next place.” 

Eddie squinted at him, leaning back with a huff of air. “You drive a hard bargain, pretty boy, but I do like an old fashioned spoiling.” 

“Yeah?” Steve arched a brow, he wasn’t sure that was at all accurate from what he’d seen. Eddie had been nearly impossible to buy anything for, kept sliding in reasons to take it on himself. Eddie’s face shifted, more sly. He twirled his drink, a challenge in the way his lips curved. Steve probably was ass over head in trouble here, he reasoned, he’d only met the guy a few hours ago. Made it easier to breathe out. 

“I think you like to be in control, actually. Doing all the spoiling.” 

Dark eyes on his, tracing his face as Steve purposely looked away, practiced nonchalance. “Oh?” Eddie said, careful, tense in a way that made Steve’s stomach coil. “Do tell.” 

“I think you like when people don’t let you, either. When they make it fun.” A challenge, he hoped. 

“Careful, Stevie,” Eddie said. “Give a boy ideas.” 

Steve looked over at him, big eyed and perfectly oblivious in a way he thought would carve its way under Eddie’s skin. He lifted a shoulder, slow and measured, “Maybe that’s the point.” 

“Alright, folks, give it up for Jess! Always love to have ABBA starting out the night. Next up, we have Eddie and Steve. Looks like two out of towners so let's give ‘em a big warm Bull and Crow welcome!” 

Steve finished his drink, there was a smattering of hoots and hollers, a few people beside them clapping. “Well, Munson? Gunna put your mouth where your money is?” 

The opening to Danger Zone rolled through the bar, Eddie’s face lit up. “Oh, you are a treat. Top Gun ?” 

Steve shrugged, “The guys are hot.” 

Eddie’s laughter followed them all the way up to the mics. 

“Hi,” Eddie said, grinning right into the microphone. “This is Steve’s first time doing karaoke, so everyone make sure to congratulate him afterwards.” 

Steve flipped him off, the crowd laughed. 

“Anyways, lucky for him I do know this song, so. Hopefully we do it justice.” 

He mimed along to the guitar riff, locking eyes with Steve and biting his lip. Steve felt pretty good, crownless and fucking light as air. Realer, somehow, than he ever got to be. He bobbed along with it, laughing back. Eddie kept his eyes on Steve, even as he started.

“ Revvin' up your engine

Listen to her howlin' roar.”

The breath punched out of him for a second, Eddie’s voice was maybe a little raspier than he expected, kind of a growl underneath the words, but it was good. Sat under his skin like a heatwave. There was that flicker in his eyes again, the one that hurtled Steve down further on the highway between them. A challenge. 

Steve lifted his own mic. 

“Metal under tension

Beggin' you to touch and go.”

He saw the surprise hit Eddie like an all over blow, the crowd cheered along with them as they moved into the chorus. Eddie seemed to regain himself, head banging aggressively and making Steve grin. 

“Highway to the danger zone,” Eddie crooned, flipping around to lean towards Steve, singing into his microphone instead. 

Steve leaned back, faces nearly touching, “Ride into the danger zone.” 

They managed to get through the whole thing, Eddie at one point grabbing the mic and moving to stand on top of a group of older women’s table as they cheered and clapped around him. It was… fun. More than fun, like he was somewhere else, a pocket of reality where he did stuff like this. Where Steve was a fun easy going guy, someone comfortable in his own skin and could just decide to sing dramatically to a Top Gun song in front of a bunch of strangers. 

“Thank you, thank you,” Eddie laughed, out of breath and bowing dramatically before gesturing with a flourish towards Steve. “All tips can be collected by my tall, shockingly handsome friend here. You’ve been great.” 

It was easy to see, Eddie being a rockstar. The way he commanded a crowd as simply as moving, bent into the lyrics and the tempo like a whole body experience.  Steve would love to see him play, he realized. 

They hopped off the stage, accepting the arm pats and congrats from the other patrons easily enough, sliding back into their seats. The bartender looked moderately less sour now, sliding them both over two shots ‘on the house’ for their first time. Steve clinked his with Eddie. 

“To being absolutely insufferable,” Steve smirked. 

Eddie lifted his shot higher, “To ruining that stage for any other lesser men.” 

The liquor burned hot and sweet down his throat.  

“You’re a bit of a wild guy, anyone ever tell you that?” Eddie said, leaning against the doorway. He’d requested they step out for a smoke break, something that Steve was trying to quit because Robin viscerally hated it, but had picked up again annoyingly the second she’d moved out. 

“Nah,” Steve shrugged, taking a drag. “Not normally, anyways.” 

Eddie stepped closer, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “Trust me, wild under the surface is still wild.” 

Steve tilted his head, considering. His wildest thing before had been holding the record for keg stands, which was sort of pathetic in hindsight, the kind of thing stupid teenagers would think was worth anything. Everything else had been… expected. Even the partying. From his parents, who’d both been popular kids in their youth, to the other kids. Of course Steve threw the wildest parties, right? Not like there would be anyone home to stop him, not like they’d really care. 

“Think that’s more your influence.”

“Oh?” Eddie cackled. “Corrupting you already, am I?” 

Steve gave him a dry look, “Because of Top Gun ? Isn’t that more me ” 

Eddie put a hand over his heart. “You wound me, my whole shtick, in shambles.” They smoked in silence for a minute. The night had fully settled around them now, big and black with the small town lights. Not enough to block out the stars. 

“Kind of hard to be wild, back home,” Steve said, after a moment, staring straight up at the sky. “Small town stuff, people get it in their heads you’re one way and that’s just what you are, you know?” 

The buzz of highway traffic bounced off the empty streets like a river bed, Eddie sighed quietly. “Yeah,” he said. “Doesn’t mean that’s what you are, though. Right?” 

Steve shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t feel like it matters? Gotta stick around anyways, people need you and all. Just wish…” he sighed. 

“What?” 

“I guess I dunno. Used to think I had to stick around Hawkins because, well I have these kids I babysit. Kind of feel like I gotta make sure they’re doing alright, you know? But they’re older now, so.” He shrugged again, stubbing his cigarette out on the brick wall. 

Eddie’s eyes looked like they’d trapped the starlight, had that funny twist to his mouth again. “Don’t feel like any place is yours, right?”

Steve sort of felt trapped, pinned. “Yeah,” he managed. “You know. It’s like, every step– this is the farthest from home I’ve ever been. Is it stupid that I’m kind of freaked?” 

Eddie blinked, “It's dangerous business, going out of your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” It… sounded familiar to Steve for some reason. Like something Dustin would say. Eddie shook his head, looking down. “I just– nevermind. I don’t think it’s stupid. Kind of makes you a badass, in my books. First time out on the road and you’re going full speed ahead all alone?”

“I guess,” he said, uncertainly. Eddie pursed his lips, stepping back with his arms spread wide, twirling in the dawning moonlight. 

“Think of it this way, Stevie, you can go anywhere! You’ve already done the hard part, the leaving. Everything else is just, taking it in as you go. What’s stopping you?” 

It sounded… nice, like that. Impulsive, crazy, but. Kind of exciting. “Well, a lot. I mean, I’ve never really done anything just because I wanted to? I’m, yanno, small town boring.” 

Eddie gave him a strange look, stepping closer again. “I told you, sweetheart. You. Are anything but boring.” He reached up and patted Steve on the cheek, electric pressure that had Steve frozen. “Hey, I’m craving some shitty god awful diner food after all that. Think there’s a 24 hour place around here? I want some god awful pancakes.”

When his parents had found him in the river, deep in the woods he’d nearly gotten lost in, they hadn’t even yelled at him. It had been strange at the time, sort of felt like a reward he’d been given for nearly drowning, for wandering off on his own. His father had just come barreling through the underbrush towards him, seeing Steve stuck in the current with his leg in the stupid hollowed out tree, and he’d just tied his jacket around his waist and waded in. 

It was a big moment, in Steve’s mind. His dad actually caring more about him than about getting dirt on his nice beige pants. He’d held onto it for a long time afterwards, even when they’d silently turned the car around and drove him home, when they hadn’t followed him inside even though his leg was scratched up and he’d been half frozen for the first hour back. 

He’d spun it around in his mind enough that it hadn’t even bothered him, for a long while, that they never suggested he come along with them again. 

Steve dreamed about it though, the long expanse of green around him, thick and dark with mid summer dew, the mist in the air swirling past his legs. The way the old wood tree had seemed so sturdy and large, meant for him to walk along. The highway before, grey pavement and yellow lines. 

The luck of the day seemed to be on Eddie’s side, or Steve’s maybe considering. There was an all hours diner tucked at the edge of Main Street, one of those classic neon places with overly bright booth designs and waitresses in cartoonishly 50’s outfits. Steve hadn’t actually been confident these places existed outside of TV, so, another experience to chalk up on his list of things to tell Robin about. 

They slid easily into a booth, their waitress– an older woman who’s gaunt, unhappy expression juxtaposed her against the pink of her uniform in a way that was only adding to the unreality of  it all– gave them two menus and coffee, on the house. 

“All this caffeine I’m never going to get to sleep, might be wild all night,” Eddie commented. Steve hid his sudden dry throat behind a sip of his own coffee. 

“I’ll buy, this time,” Steve said instead. “Get whatever you want.” 

Eddie whistled. “Mr. Moneybags over here. Thought you said I wasn’t about being spoiled?” 

Steve hummed, not taking his eyes off the menu in a way he hoped would only make Eddie more incensed. “I think you like being kept on your toes.” 

The grin he got back was sharp, made a buzz run through him down to his fingertips. “Are you always this much of a handful?” Eddie’s voice is nearly a purr, Steve shot a glance around at the other patrons instinctively. They’re fairly alone at this hour, their waitress flitting back behind the counter to refill a mug for a guy who looks half awake. It’s kind of comforting, all vinyl and garish patterned echoing sleepiness–  a really specific dream he thinks he can remember having.

“Only for guys that can handle it,” he said. He’d never flirted like this before, actually. He thinks it’s probably obvious. Before it had been all charming lines about how beautiful the girls were, or about how much he was going to rock their world. He was usually the one in control, there. 

Being around Eddie didn’t feel much like having any kind of control, he was sort of surprised at how much he wanted more of it. 

“Oh, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned back. “You’re that sure about me, huh?” 

Steve smiled into his mug. “I don’t put out on a first date, Munson.” 

Eddie leaned forward like he wanted to bite him. “Good thing by my counting this is at least date four then, right? Don’t normally roll right into each other, though.” 

“Oh,” Steve paused. Eddie had been paying the last few places, he’d had a thought– 

His face flickered, he leaned back. “You seem disappointed.” 

Steve looked at him, just like at the Burger King. Taking in his messy bangs, the way he folded his arms across his chest, sleeves ridden up and intricate tattoos on display. The way he’d easily walked onto a stage in the middle of nowhere, offered to hang out for a whole seven hours with a guy he didn’t know just so he wouldn’t be alone somewhere new. 

The way everything about him crawled into Steve’s rib cage like a fucking craving. He’d never been this into someone on a date before, not like this. It had always been more about the chase of it, saying the right thing and feeling charmed by their blushing, feeling wanted. 

Eddie didn’t make him feel wanted, he made him feel seen . 

“It’s just that,” he took a breath. “I didn’t get to give you a first date kiss, that’s all.” 

Eddie blinked, smiled, surprised and sugary. “You are– ” he trailed off, shaking his head. “How is it possible to be so sweet, and yet so bossy?” He laughed. “I’ll tell you what, Harrington. How’s about you trade up on that one, then? Make it worth your while.” 

He said it like another challenge, like an offering. Like he was hoping Steve would take it and run.

Steve took a long sip of his coffee, eyes never leaving his. “How’s about you finish ordering your pancakes, smartass.”

Eddie’s grin was wolfish. “You’re gunna give me whiplash, you know.” 

This was new, too. Feeling chased, rather than doing the chasing. “I think you can keep up.”  

They chatted for a few hours, long enough that the waitress started giving them dirty looks, coughing pointedly and glancing at the clock. Eddie thought it was hilarious, mostly. 

He asked about Kansas City, about his uncle, learned that Eddie had taught himself guitar, and Uncle Wayne had been the first person to buy him one for his birthday to practice with. He hears about his best friend back home, Chrissy, who he felt a little responsible for breaking up her and her boyfriend, despite having done nothing. Just because Jason had been so sure something was happening anyways– how the rumors had stuck hot and fast to Eddie, made it difficult to be anything other than the local homewrecker. 

“The funniest part to me is that I haven’t looked a ladies' way since I was probably fourteen,” Eddie said. “Guess that whole thing kind of staved off the other rumors though, kind of canceled each other out even if one would have been true.” 

“Did Chrissy know?” Steve asked, maybe a bit somberly. Eddie seemed to laugh it off on the outside, mostly, and– call it willfulness, or just sheer stupidity– Steve thought he could tell that it hurt, though. 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, she’s the only one that knew. Other than Wayne. She didn’t blame me for any of it, thought Jason was a total idiot.” He bit his lip. “I should probably call her, just kind of ran away on her one day. Shittiest thing I ever did.” 

Steve hummed. “Well, as someone currently running away from all of my problems, I mean. Sounds like she’d forgive you.” 

There’d been that look again, the complicated one. Steve thought maybe it read like affection, something stunned behind the eyes. “Probably right,” Eddie sighed. “I don’t think you’re running away from shit, by the way.” 

Steve let out a quiet snort. “Oh yeah?” 

“Seriously, man. Give yourself a break, huh? You said your parents are barely around, sounds like the whole town is stuck up and set on their boxes of people, right? I’d hate it there. Wouldn’t last a day, sounds like.” He shook his head. “I think, it’s more like you’re running towards something else. Something you might actually want, being real balls to the wall about it too. That’s pretty metal, if you ask me.” 

He hid a grin behind a bite of food. “Be careful,” he warned teasingly. “Flattery works on me.” 

Eddie let out a long breath, folding his arms behind his head. “Love to know what else works on you, sweetheart.” 

You , Steve thought, surprising himself again. It doesn’t have any panic with it, though, or really anything other than calm, easy fact. Eddie Munson is attractive, and charming, and makes Steve feel like a person the way no one had been able to since Robin left. He keeps fucking smirking at him, too. Steve thought it was maybe not entirely his fault if he was a little over his head. 

“You uh,” he cleared his throat. “You want to get out of here?” 

Steve does end up getting a motel room after all; Steve rolling up to the counter and asking for a one bed queen sized while Eddie sat out in his car, sneaking through afterwards. It feels a little silly, a little like they’re skirting past parents at a sleepover, or sneaking out for a party. The risk of being caught however mildly thrums in Steve’s chest anyways. 

It was different, all of this was different. He was thrilled, turned on in a way that felt fun and slightly terrifying. Had just enough space without Eddie for the first time in several hours to think. 

He’d maybe been half expecting the strange magic of Eddie Munson to wear off like this, to blink around and realize he’s in the open ocean, or that he’s actually freaked, or something. Hear Robin’s voice telling him he is actually about to get killed, for real, for serious. 

Instead he thought about Eddie’s smile, the real one, when Steve said something genuine. The way his nose crinkled, the fact he’d asked about Robin and hadn’t made weird assumptions outside of what Steve told him. Anything but boring. 

It was stupid, probably, to be this into a guy he barely knows, enough to be pulling it apart and examining it like this. It was the longest date he’d ever been on, though, bordering on hour nine with more stretching on between them. He hasn’t even felt an urge to stop, to say goodnight and leave; he’s mostly just following the yellow dotted lines, trailing out into the mist. It doesn’t feel bad, or wrong, is the thing, the way it maybe should. He wondered, tucked into a run down cheap motel, starchy sheets underneath, if he can be this different. If it's allowed. 

He thought about the log in the woods when he was eight, the way it had looked so strong and whole from the outside, like it was supposed to be walked on. He breathed out, shaky in the quiet of the room. 

He was sitting on the bed when Eddie finally slid the door open, locking it behind him. 

“Hi,” Steve said. 

“Hey yourself,” Eddie said back, hesitating by the doorway. It was silent in the room save for the clock ticking loudly at its place on the wall. Steve had never been in a motel room either, he realized, like the unreality Eddie seemed to spin with him swooped back over them.

“I dunno if you were just you know, talking, back there,” Steve started. “It’s okay if you were.” 

Eddie looked startled. “Oh.” 

Steve looked down at his hands, and back up. Eddie shuffled closer, cautiously. “Were you?” Eddie says, a bit like he’s the one walking across a log bridge now, like he’s the one checking his footing. It made Steve’s chest swoop, something like sympathy rising. “Just saying things, I mean?” 

Steve swallowed. “No.” 

Eddie nodded, “Okay, yeah. Neither was I.” 

“It’s just,” Steve doesn’t really know where he’s trying to go with this, dotted lines on pavement and all. “Back home, I was like, the town jock. You know? King Steve, and all. Real asshole. I don’t,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want to be that person anymore, you know?” 

Eddie sat beside him, leaving space purposely between them, “most kids in high school are shitty, Steve.” 

Steve whirled towards him, “I’ve never even been this far from Hawkins before. I haven’t done like, any of this.” 

“That’s okay, you know that, right? I don’t really do this either, you know,” Eddie shifted. “Flirting? Sure. Had a couple of nights with some guys on the road mostly. This is new for me, too.” He lifted one shoulder, a half shrug, even as his eyes were huge on Steve’s. “Whatever you wanna do, Steve. Even if it’s nothing.”  

It’s like stepping a foot out, walking across the wood. Feeling for the first time that it would hold, knowing that Eddie is sweet all the way down, that it’s not something Steve imagined. That maybe he was a little out on his own, too, treading waters; maybe Steve is different for him, too.

He does want, he knows. He wants Eddie’s smirks and his long fingers and that stretch of tattooed skin. Wants him to spoil him, like he said. 

Something about the road, about anonymity, maybe. Mostly something about Eddie. 

“Can you show me?” Steve asked, words red hot in his mouth. His cheeks lit up as soon as he said it, clenching his hand into the sheet beside him. “Is that… is that stupid?” 

Eddie tilted his head, reaching up slowly to cradle Steve’s cheek with one hand. “Not stupid, not at all. Is that what you want?” 

Sort of felt like an inevitable crash, like gravity on a comet, when Steve nodded. 

“Need a yes, sweetheart,” Eddie clicked his tongue, smiling. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, breathless. “Yes. Show me.” 

He expected the kiss to be more on the brutal side, something biting and snarky, like a smirk pressed against his mouth– Eddie kissed him like a tidal wave, thoroughly, for what felt like hours. He was all consuming. Steve pressed back up against him, licking across the seam of his lips, just for Eddie to smile, pull back the barest amount. 

“Let me do this, sweetheart, relax,” he murmured. 

It was overwhelming, a storm hitting out of the blue. Eddie tilted his head, encouraged Steve to open his lips, dove in further. He could feel him rising up on the bed beside him, shifting his weight until he was straddling Steve’s lap, pushing his hand on Steve’s chest to get him to lay down. 

“How far you wanna go? We can just do this, if you want,” Eddie pressed his mouth down Steve’s neck, wet and hard– not quite bruising. Steve felt it like a punch through him anyways, stretched his neck back farther so he could reach more of it. 

“Oh, you are an angel,” Eddie’s voice went pleased, a bit of a coo. “Need you to answer the question, though, Stevie.”

Steve didn’t know, didn’t have specifics. Eddie made him feel like he was out on a lake, like a lightning storm was pulling in. Like he was driving, pedal all the way down on the highway just to see where it took him. “Anything, all of it, whatever,” he gasped.

“What happened to bossy?” He could feel Eddie’s smile up against the dip of his neck, groaned into it. 

“Stop talking,” Steve said, mind fogging out already in a way that made him feel almost dizzy. 

Eddie laughed. “You okay if I take this off?” He slid his hands under Steve’s polo; the metal was cold on Steve’s chest, made him squirm. 

He nodded, reached his arms up carefully to help him pull the shirt off, warmth pooling through him when Eddie yanked his own over his head in the process. It was sort of breathtaking, in the way that mundane things could be. The bleary motel lights, the god awful patterned wallpaper, Eddie stretched out lean, ab muscles flexing on top of him. 

Steve bit his lip, “You’re beautiful.” 

Got the pleasure of seeing the pink rise from Eddie’s chest all the way up to his nose, trailed it eagerly. He had more tattoos underneath, dark swirls of dragon’s tails and skulls, hints of more down lower over top of his belt loops. 

“Coming from you?” Eddie clicked his tongue. “Are you actually real? You’re fucking perfect.” 

Steve had heard that before, plenty of times actually. Made him preen though, here, with Eddie’s hair falling around them in curtains, his wide dark eyes staring down at him hungrily. Made him believe it. 

“Come here,” he said, looping his arms over Eddie’s shoulder, pulling him into another open mouthed kiss. This one was messier, Eddie practically licking into his mouth, a tilt to his lips every time Steve breathed out with a hint of a whine worked through, shaky. 

Eddie’s hands slid across his stomach, his chest, dancing across his nipples. “You’re so sensitive,” he whispered as Steve arched into it– he didn’t say it like he was mocking though, more like he was awed. The heat in his gut curled tighter. “That’s it, baby, tell me how you want me to touch you, huh?” 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, hissing through his teeth as Eddie pinched, rolled. His thumbs were calloused, from guitar probably, rough. It made Steve feel like he was fucking flying. “Shit,” he said on an exhale, “need you to– more, Eddie.” 

Eddie leaned in, a quick peck to his lips, “Ask nicely, Stevie.” 

He rolled his eyes, moving his own hands down to slide across Eddie’s lower back, raking his fingernails a little in a way he knew he liked. Eddie shivered. “Please, Eddie,” he said, low and heavy. 

Eddie leaned back, his eyes were wild, kind of stunned around the edges, he was still grinning. “Fuck, you’re a walking wet dream, aren’t you? Needy as fucking anything. Weren’t kidding about being handled, were you.” It wasn’t really a question, Steve watched the way Eddie’s hands trail tenderly, shaking just a little, too.  

Steve hadn’t known it about himself, had never tried. Always more focused on the person he was with having a good time, making sure they enjoyed it. “Never had anyone try,” he said, maybe a little bashful. Eddie’s eyes softened. 

“They’re missing out, then. Feelin’ spoiled after all, Stevie, you’re something else,” his hand slid lower, dancing across the top of Steve’s waistband even as he leaned down, lower half rolling into Steve enough that he could feel– that he could feel all of it. White hot, through him like a cord snapping, his mouth opened and Eddie dove back in, messily. Hungrily. 

“Jesus,” Steve gasped. “Yeah, mm, Eddie– you can,” he broke off in another gasp. “Touch me, come on. Your hands– ” Eddie acquiesced, mouth hot against his, other arm coming up to cradle Steve’s chin. It felt like being devoured, like being taken somewhere warm and electric, being held down. He felt stuck, and stupid, and so, so deliciously warm, pinned like this for Eddie to just take in. 

Eddie seemed to notice this, pulling back far enough to look at Steve, eyes dancing between his. “Oh you sweet thing,” he purred, looking sort of punched out. “You like this?” He moved the hand from Steve’s chin to Steve’s wrist, pushing it down on the bed by his head. Steve nearly shook apart, eyes wide. 

“Show me,” he said, barely any voice to his breath. Eddie’s gaze darkened even further, eyebrows pulling together as he leaned back in. 

“So. Fucking. Perfect ,” Eddie growled, punctuating each word with another kiss. Steve felt like he was losing his mind, floating somewhere between bliss and aching want as the other man’s hand moved lower, cupping him through his pants deliciously. Steve mirrored him, dropping his free hand down to Eddie’s ass, squeezing enough to have them both moan low in their throats.

Eddie’s hand flicked open the buttons on his jeans, rubbing a hand over Steve’s boxers with a shaky sigh. “God, you feel good,” Eddie muttered. 

Steve slid his free hand into Eddie’s hair, knotting his fingers through it so he could look at him. “Wanna blow you, think that’d feel better.” 

Eddie’s hand stuttered to a stop, a long groan working out of him. “Fuck, sweetheart, the mouth on you.”  

Eddie pushed back, sitting upright still hanging on top of Steve after a moment. He could feel his own chest heaving, thoroughly wrecked just after a little groping and making out– jesus, he felt needy, he felt wanton and fucking messy. All of it felt good, under Eddie’s gaze though, with him looking just as fucked out over nothing. 

“What is it with you, huh?” Eddie marveled. “Making a mess out of me without barely starting anything.” Steve hummed, warm knots in his gut spiraling larger. Eddie soaked it in, tongue on his teeth. “Oh, baby, you want that? Me being a mess over you?” 

His face must have shown something, Eddie groaned. “You don’t even know how you look right now– you need a minute, honey? Gunna make you feel real good, I promise, you can take a second.” 

Steve shook his head, paused. He missed the warm steel of Eddie’s grip around his wrist, liked the weight of him sitting on his lap. Liked the long expanses of skin and callouses, the scars he didn’t know the history for, the wild look in his eyes that just seemed to mirror the way Steve felt inside, down to his bones. The way he kissed like a fucking thunderstorm, and checked in and waited in between. He didn’t know Eddie, and yet, it kind of felt like he always had. Was that stupid? He felt a little insane, lighting in a bottle, static dancing across his skin.

It was addicting, he suddenly hated the idea of being without it at all. 

“I’m moving out to California,” he blurted. “Brought all my shit in my car, my duffle. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” 

Eddie blinked, “I got thrown out of my apartment, right before this gig. Broke my own band up, all my shits in my van, too.” 

“You make me feel impossible,” Steve breathed out, blushed harder and glanced away. “I dunno, I just–”

“No,” Eddie shook his head, voice hoarse. “I get that, I– it’s the same, for me. Don’t think I’ve been hiding it.” 

Steve’s chest rose and fell, he laughed. Eddie looked bewildered, but that fond smile slid back across his lips. “I have a crazy idea,” he said, reaching up to twirl a piece of Eddie’s hair around his finger. He didn’t know him, wanted to though, more than he’d really wanted most things. Had this image spinning through his mind of Eddie and Robin snarking at each other and him, felt it like sunshine straight into his chest. He thought maybe Eddie wanted to know him too, and he thought that could be enough. Eddie circled his wrist, carefully, smiling soft. 

“Yeah?” 

Steve pulled him down, hands on his shoulders, kissed him, “you know how I said this is as far from home as I’ve ever been?”

It must have been some kind of kismet, or perfectly intersecting lines, the curve on a graph that ran closer and closer together, the way Eddie looked at him, grinned. “You wanna make tomorrow the new record?” 

He’d known Eddie for all of sixteen hours, when he finally walked out of the auto shop, swinging his keys around his finger. Brand new tire installed, gas tank full, wide open blue skies ahead. 

“Ready?” Eddie asked, leaned up against the door with his arms crossed. His van idling in the spot beside. 

“Now who’s impatient,” Steve smirked back. 

Eddie shook his head, tapping his foot in front of him dramatically. “Come on, Harrington, the roads ain’t gunna drive themselves. Besides, Robin said she was going to shave my head if you didn’t get there before Sunday, and I happen to know that’s not a good look for me.” 

“You buzzed your hair?” 

Eddie leaned off the car, palms outward. “It was once, when I was young and stupid, but now I know.” 

Steve hummed. “I know where your uncle lives, I could ask for pictures.” 

Eddie feigned a shudder, stepping around to his side of the car. “Meet you at the next stop?” 

Steve reached into his bag, pulling out a walkie talkie and tossing it Eddie’s way. He caught it easily enough. “Wouldn’t miss it. You’re buying, though.” 

The thing was, Steve had always loved the idea of a road trip. Something about singing along to whatever shitty mixtape he’d made, wind blasting through his hair, watching that yellow line stretch on and on in front of him. 

There was something to be said though about having a copilot to share it with, though.