Archive of Our Own

“I just- I can’t believe I said that to her, man. Like, what was I even thinking?”

Robin stares out at the pool, unimpressed looking in her oversize shades. She slurps loudly and obnoxiously at the dregs in her cup through a straw, before finally turning to face him, sighing.

“Steve. You were probably just babbling nonsense under the threat of imminent death. I mean, I do that all the time- run my mouth, I mean- and that’s without the prospect of marching to certain doom alongside my ex-girlfriend slash potential love of my life, so, like- it’s not a big deal. I bet she’s already forgotten about it.”

Steve snorts, slumping down in the fold out sun lounger and gazing over at Nancy glumly. She looks pretty today. She always looks pretty though, so it’s just something he’s used to at this point. Nancy is pretty, the sky is blue- and Dustin and Lucas are entirely disregarding pool safety as they sprint around the edge, half slipping and screeching threats at each other. 

“NO RUNNING!” he barks at them as they fly past. He folds his arms over his chest, grumbling.

Dustin ignores him, and keeps sprinting towards Lucas, arms outstretched- and Steve sighs in relief as he watches Eddie shoot a skinny pale arm out towards him, yanking him back by the hem of his shorts towards the grass, grinning at him as he tells him to calm the fuck down, Henderson, you’ll kill yourself after we all spent so much effort trying to survive the past year, huh?

Eddie’s good at that, Steve thinks. Calming them down when shit gets rowdy.

Anyway.

Back to the matter at hand.

“Should I bring it up- like even to apologise?”

Robin groans, punching his arm, and then wiping off the layer of sweat and sunscreen she manages to dislodge with her knuckles, muttering under her breath.

“No, Steve, I don’t think you need to bring up the fact you propositioned Nancy Wheeler to have your babies and ride around in a-”

“Keep your voice down!” Steve hisses.

“She’s miles away! She’s all the way over there with her boyfriend, dingus!”

“Yeah, but-”

“Steve. Steven. Stevie. I love you, but please, for the love of all things holy- you need to move on. I never thought I’d be the one saying this, because I also thought there was a vibe there before, but-”

Steve waves an arm in the air to silence her. “Yeah, yeah, fear of death, oncoming apocalypse.”

Robin adjusts her shades and nods at him primly. She stretches her legs out, soaking up the last of the late summer sun, the air still scalding hot in early September. Steve wiggles back against his own lounger and tries not to mope. 

Thing is- yeah, he does miss Nance. Sure. 

But he’s not even sure- he knows they’re not compatible. He gets that.

He’s just lonely. It’s been a good few months since everything settled down after their last run-in with an apocalyptic level threat, and the meager amount of dates he’s managed to score haven’t exactly gone swimmingly. There’s been like, three, maybe. Two of which ended with him getting his dick wet, and none of which warranted a repeat event, mostly because- again. Damn compatibility. 

Like- why can’t he just find a girl who wants the same shit he does? Who suits him?

He asks as much to Robin- whinges about it, really, and she scoffs, poking her toes against one of his bronzed hairy legs.

“You’ll find one, moron. You have them all queuing up for you, it’s disgusting. No accounting for bad taste in this town, clearly.”

“Yeah, but none of them are my type, Rob.”

Robin scowls at him.

“Do you even have a type? I feel like the last few… romantic prospects… have all differed pretty widely.”

Steve hums in response to this, rolling his head to the side to free the crick in his neck. He feels all overheated and stupid, sun-dumb. 

“S’pose. Kind of. Brunettes, for sure- I mean, if I had to pick. Curly hair… yeah, I like curls. I guess smart girls. I think a little level of nerd is cute, right? I don’t care if they’re smarter than me-”

Robin snorts.

“-but yeah. It’s nice when people are like, really into shit. I liked that about Nance, the journalism stuff. Passionate. Guess that’s kind of nerdy. Maybe like- I guess a lot of the girls I’ve dated have been kinda pale, that can be pretty. And- this one I guess is self indulgent, but good with kids- I mean, just cause I want ‘em, you know? And a girl who- I kind of like the romantic stuff, when I’m really into her. Someone who doesn’t mind that. I can be a gentleman.”

“Ew. I’ve heard enough rumour-mongering about the Harrington experience, thanks, I get the picture.”

Steve scowls at her, and she softens.

“I’m kidding, Steve. I get it.”

He sighs. “Guess I’m just describing Nance, for the most part. But I know- even if she wasn’t with Jon, I know that ship’s sailed. Or was never going to sail in the first place, I guess.”

Robin hums, staring out at Nancy. She sits beside Jonathan, smiling at him as they dangle their legs in the pool, chatting to Will and Max in the shallow end. Steve can’t even find it in himself to hate the guy. He’s not even jealous of Jonathan because he’s with Nancy, it’s more like… he’s jealous of what he and Nance have.

“So, in summation… curly pasty brunettes, who’re nerdier and smarter than you, and kind of a sap, and good with kids?”

Steve nods in resignation. “I s’pose.”

Robin stares out at the water again, silent for a minute. Then she bursts out into a fit of giggles.

“Steve, I’ve solved your problem.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve found your dreamboat. Your perfect match, your other half- fits your type to a t. Literally right now, you could walk over and proposition this person to bear your six offspring and sail off into the sunset together in a shitty RV.”

Steve blinks at her bemusedly, and then she points out beyond the pool- where Eddie Munson sits in the grass, smiling lazily as El and little Holly Wheeler adorn him in daisy chains, giggling as he bows to each of them, adjusting his flowery crown.

Steve groans, face in his palms. 

“Yeah,” he laughs dryly, “if only Eddie was a chick, huh?”

“Hey,” Robin grins, hands in the air. “All I’m saying is- tell me he doesn’t fit the bill. You’re already practically co-parenting Dustin.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He glances over at Eddie, who’s now picked up a stick to challenge Holly to some kind of ‘swordfight’, dancing around like an idiot, all pale gangly limbs under his baggy swim shorts and tee. He looks ridiculous.

“Jesus,” he sighs. “I need to get laid.”

“Amen to that,” Robin mutters. “Wanna get in the pool again?”

“You’re on.”

*

Things have been weirdly nice over the past two months. It’s kind of like- there’s a saying, Steve’s pretty sure. Something about the best flowers coming after the rain. Or maybe the best sun? Who fucking knows, but the sentiment is there- April and May were utterly hellish, but after that- once there was no more otherworldly threats on the horizon, and Eddie’s name was cleared and the army had handed out some sizable government payouts and then got the heck out of dodge- things had kind of started to run a little smoother. 

Steve’s parents are still very much MIA, and due to remain that way for pretty much the rest of the year, which had freed up his place as a good spot to crash/host barbecues/game nights/movie nights/other more nerdy pursuit nights in his front room. His summer has been a non-stop whirlwind of busy, noisy evenings with friends and new-made family, and his days are a pleasantly monotonous routine of Family Video shifts and ferrying about idiot sophomores to the arcade, the basketball court, the skate park. 

It’s nice. They’re all just closer since everything went down. 

And that’s the other thing.

Steve actually has friends again. Friends his own age.

There’s Nance and Jon, sure. And Argyle, this bizarre tag-along Jonathan had collected out in California who appears to be bunking with them while Hopper renovates the new house the Byers’ have moved back into. And obviously Robin, with her new tag-along Vickie- Steve would refer to her as new girlfriend, but Robin hasn’t had the balls to ask yet (weird, considering the fact Steve’s seen them making out every time they all get drunk in his back yard, so he’s pretty sure it’s a safe bet she’d say yes.)

And Eddie. Which- colour him surprised, but he’s actually turned out to be a really good friend. It’s nice having a guy friend again. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed that kind of relationship since he and Tommy had drifted. But Eddie sort of slots into his life with the ease of a well worn cog in a machine, and suddenly he’s just there all the time, once he and Steve had healed up from their respective gruesome injuries. He drinks the same shitty beer Steve likes that nobody else seems to enjoy whenever he has people over, and he introduces Steve to a range of truly terrible obscure horror flicks. He turns up at Steve’s after work most nights and flops down on his sofa and orders pizza with weird toppings, complains about the customers at his work (he’s got a part time gig at Carl’s garage out up North), makes a bunch of literary references that go over Steve’s head, regales the latest tales of idiocy from Dustin and Mike during the last Hellfire session hosted in Steve's own kitchen (Steve never sticks around for all of these, because Mike starts complaining if he’s there, which is fucking rich considering he’s using Steve’s house, and eating Steve’s snacks.) 

He divebombs in Steve’s pool and tells him about girls he’s hooked up with at his weird little rock concerts, and Steve in turn tells him about whatever miserable turn his dating life is currently taking (at the moment: nothing after his last failed date with Dorothy. Darcy? Or maybe it was Daisy?)

Point being- Steve finally has a guy friend again. And that rules. 

Which is why it’s so annoying, having a Robin-planted idea in his head now. A Robin-worm, burrowing into Steve’s skull, wiggling away at his thoughts the next time he and Eddie hang. 

Real shame he’s not a chick.

Like- sure. Objectively, Munson meets the criteria. He's Steve’s kind of girl, just, y’know. Without the girl part. He and Steve get along surprisingly well, considering the fact they’d almost never spoken before the world almost ended, and Steve’s previous comrades probably stuck his head in his locker a bunch or called him a freak in the hallways. He’s funny, in that weird, awkward Eddie way, and really easy to talk to. Easy to hang around doing nothing with, shooting the shit. Smoking their way through half his stash, since Eddie doesn’t sell anymore. Doesn’t need to, really, not now that he sort of has a big boy job. 

And there’s other stuff, too. Steve keeps noticing it, like the universe has some great and cruel sense of irony. It hits him the week after their last pool party, when a bunch of nerdy teenagers traipse into Steve’s kitchen like they own the place. 

“Harrington,” Gareth greets him, deadpan. Steve fistbumps him as they make their way in, ready to clear the fuck out. Maybe Steve can count him and Jeff as part of his increase in more adult friends- acquaintances, at least. They no longer seem to think he’s a complete brainless dickhead, so that’s something. 

Eddie comes in afterwards, bumping Steve in the arm as he goes by and flashing him a wide smile. He has some crap scribbled over one hand in biro, and it's smudged everywhere. His hair is tucked away loosely under a bandana, curls sticking to his forehead in the sticky humidity. Still too hot this time of year.

Steve busies himself unloading a bag of chips into a bowl- figures its time for him to retreat to the basement now- when the rest of them arrive, Lucas and Dustin bickering with Erica as they settle in. He’s almost escaped when Mike finally makes an entrance- but he’s not alone.

“Uh- Wheeler. You…”

Mike groans, and Steve peers over the table to see Holly stare up at them, wide eyed, her hair in sleek pigtails. She cowers behind Mike a little, whose face is all pink.

“Look- I told you guys to move the session,” he huffs. 

“Dude. You told me, like- an hour ago. What the fu- heck, what the heck was I supposed to do with that?” Eddie grumbles, waving his arms out dramatically.

“Yeah, well- my mom had some emergency crap come up last minute, and Nancy’s out somewhere and my dad’s away at some business thing so… I kind of-”

“Hey, Holly,” Dustin smiles at her cheerily. Holly blinks up at him, and then at Mike.

She’s only six or seven, Steve’s pretty sure. That’s kind of young for this… monster and dragon slaying stuff, surely.

“Mike,” he says, deadpan. “You couldn’t have missed this one… game?”

Mike splutters. “But- I knew you guys were taking on Kathari’s lair today! And- Holly’s cool, I figured she could- y’know, watch TV or something.”

He stares beseechingly at Steve, who groans quietly. He likes Holly enough, though she’s only ever been around at his place maybe three times- when he’d invited everyone’s families about to kick it by the pool in the heat. But this is a little annoying. 

“Hey,” Eddie frowns. “Fear not, Sir Wheeler- sit your bad-at-communicating butt down, it’s cool.”

He gets out of the chair, and bends the knee.

“Lady Wheeler,” he says solemnly, eyes twinkling. Holly stares at him. “Or is it princess Wheeler, perhaps?”

She giggles.

“I think we can find you a seat at the table.”

“Dude,” Jeff hisses. “Don’t you think she’s a little young-”

“Ah, ah, ah, Jeffrey- you underestimate my improvisation abilities,” Eddie grins. “We can make this a game for all knights, kings, and princesses of all ages, I think. Hellfire spurns no-one.”

Steve cocks his head, and then sits down himself at the end of the table, if only to supervise and ensure Eddie doesn’t start giving any seven year olds nightmares in his kitchen. He has no clue what goes on during these sessions, but he’s pretty sure he’s seen Eddie re-enact (in great and dramatic detail) a scene of somebody getting shot through the heart and then burned alive at the stake, so. Less than ideal, that situation.

Mike huffs at him after he sits, but Eddie shoots him a look. 

“No-one, Wheeler,” he reminds him, wagging a finger, and then shooting a wink at Steve, who rolls his eyes fondly. 

And then he begins.

It’s kind of like watching a play.

Steve’s been to exactly three plays in his life. Two had been terrible renditions at Hawkins Middle, christmas shows that he’d been forced to help build, like, ‘sets’ for or something. The third one had been a show that a local drama troupe had put on, and he’d been seeing a girl at the time who’d had a friend involved in their performance of Macbeth, so she’d dragged Steve along to watch it. It had been a little boring.

Eddie is anything but.

He has about fifteen different ‘voices’. Steve has no idea how he’s keeping track of whatever character he’s playing- probably a bunch of notes behind that big screen he has, but each has a different accent, and some of them have funny mannerisms, actions. He sits Holly beside himself and Mike, and she giggles whenever he plays a nasally witch who keeps dropping potions in front of them all, or a squeaky tavern wench who keeps making fun of Dustin’s character because of the ‘drinks’ he orders. 

And to his credit, it's very PG. The most violence their party sees that day appears to be an ogre who starts a fight with Mike’s character on a road outside town, and when Mike ‘hits’ the ogre over the head, Eddie gets up and stumbles around, falling over theatrically. Steve can see Gareth and Mike roll their eyes, and he’s pretty sure Eddie’s derailed whatever ‘plan’ they’d had for their game today- but he’s kind of taken aback by how sweet Eddie is. He lets Holly help him ‘play’ one of the characters, asking her to roll the dice. He makes her his ‘assistant’ role for some of the voices he plays, and sits back and grins as Dustin and Mike argue ‘in character’ over something Holly asks them after he whispers in her ear, enjoying the chaos unfolding before him, arms folded behind his head. He grins at Steve as he does so, mouthing suckers at him, nodding his head in the direction of an irate Dustin. Steve smiles back, and then eats another handful of chips, getting crumbs all over his lap.

Eddie’s like- really good with kids. 

He’s not sure why this is so surprising, but it’s kind of endearing. In a friendly way. The way he thinks it’s nice when Robin lends her weird insect books to El, or when he sees Jonathan acting sweet with Will. Yeah, it’s like that. It’s sweet. 

Maybe it’s because it’s so surprising, he thinks- Eddie looking all bad-boy and tough, with his tattoos and his long hair and devil-may-care attitude, squeaking out his best ‘witch’ voice to make ‘princess Wheeler’ giggle more. That’s probably why he thinks it again- the Robin worm, the thought that won’t quit- 

Man, real shame Eddie’s not a girl. I’d be so into him if he were.

He shakes his head as if to rid himself of that thought as he stands to get a cup of water, moving away from the table. He tells himself that he doesn’t think it’s cute that Eddie’s letting Holly try on all of his silver chunky rings, smiling at her patiently while he continues playing his game in an animated, excitable tone. Not cute one bit.

*

Steve gets several, blissful weeks of peace after that. And by that he means- he gets so busy with work that he’s too dog-tired to overthink about his never-ending existential loneliness, or how sweet Eddie Munson is with excitable seven year olds or whatever. He works, comes home, and hangs with Robin or Eddie until they all pass out in various states of tiredness/drunkenness/being too stoned around his house. 

It’s a good system. It works.

And he even scores a date- well. A number, anyway, from a pretty looking blonde who’d come by Family Video last shift and spent a little too long fluttering her lashes at Steve checking out her rental of Grease. He’s pretty sure she was in the year below him at school, and she doesn’t even look too put off when he answers her question truthfully about where he’s going to college next year (nowhere, actually- he didn’t bother to re-apply. Too invested in the array of life skills one develops behind the counter at a minimum-wage paying video rental store, sorry.)

He’s probably gonna call her later this week. She’d implied she’d be free if he called tomorrow, but tomorrow he and Eddie have a movie marathon planned, and those nights are Steve’s favourite nights at the moment, because Eddie always chooses the worst films to put on and then spends the entire night squawking in outrage over how terrible they are, as if he’s not the one subjecting them both to hours of torture. It’s kind of hilarious, and Steve loves watching how riled up he gets. He’s ridiculous.

And then it happens.

Disaster.

His beautiful shiny carriage has a problem. He starts up the beemer when he leaves his shift that day- early, because he’d had an open, knocked off at two. The car splutters and sounds pretty weird, so he gets out and cranes his head just in time to see a plume of black smoke exit the exhaust. Steve’s no mechanic, but it looks- and smells- pretty terrible. 

So he takes her to his mechanic. Carls’ is pretty close, thankfully, but his heart beats double time as he drives gingerly there, wincing at the sound and smell.

He’s chatting to one of the guys on shift there- Jorge, Steve’s pretty sure his name is, nodding seriously, when Eddie appears. He emerges from under a beat up looking Chevy at the back, banging his head on the underside and groaning, crawling out on his knees and scurrying over.

“Something wrong with beemer?”

He’s all wide eyes and smeared grease all over his arms and overalls- jesus, there’s some on his fuckin’ nose. Steve resists the urge to wipe it off him with his thumb. He nods instead, relays the problem to Eddie, who waves Jorge away, tells him he’ll handle it.

“Only the best treatment, right?” 

“Oh I’ll take real good care of her, Harrington- don’t you worry.”

Eddie sighs sadly, stroking a hand across the bonnet. “Pretty girl. We’ll fix ya right up.”

Steve’s glad it’s Eddie taking care of it. Eddie appreciates the beemer. Appreciates cars in general- it’s probably one of the only things they both have in common, they can talk for hours over the subject- dream car, favourite make, favourite car they’ve each driven, favourite car Eddie’s fixed, first time driving, that kind of shit. Steve figures it’s kind of a guy thing, and yet- whenever they talk about it, he finds himself wishing he could find a girl as interested in the subject as Eddie is. Eddie's appreciative of his beautiful burgundy beemer, so he trusts him implicitly. He’ll take real good care of her. 

“Think it’ll take a while?”

“Mmm… not sure. Gotta open her up and take a look, might be an easy fix,” Eddie bites his lip, hands on his hips. He pulls his frizzy hair back up off his neck with a rubber band, exposing a pale stretch of neck. Steve glances away and back at the car, skin all itchy for some reason.

“Wanna stick around?”

“Not got anywhere else to be, so.”

“Cool,” Eddie grins. “You can be my glamorous assistant.”

Steve punches him in the side, and he pretends to reel backwards as if mortally wounded, and then gets to work. Steve’s never seen him in his element like this- taking things apart as if it’s second nature, chatting with him absent mindedly while his hands work, quick and nimble, clever. It’s kind of… jesus christ, he needs to get laid. It’s kind of hot. It’d definitely be hot, if Eddie was a chick. The way he knows his way around the car intimately, easily. The way he spots the issue so fast, pink tongue stuck out in focus as he riddles through the problem, diagnosing it and squeezing Steve’s shoulder re-assuringly because it’s an easy fix. Steve can’t believe Eddie ever led any of them to believe that he isn’t a smart guy- super senior or not, guy’s a whiz in the autoshop. Total car whisperer. Real clever.

He stares at Eddie’s hands while he works, his slim fingers caked in grease. The rings are gone for now, but he’s got silver in his ears, hoops flashing in the sun. Chicks must dig that, Steve thinks. Makes him look like a total pretty boy.

It gets quiet after an hour, as Eddie finishes patching up his car, and Jorge and Carl wander over, nodding at Steve. He’s picked Eddie up from work a few times, and they’ve come to regard him with that quiet, unassuming recognition whenever he swings by now. Steve’s just grateful they treat Eddie so well- a lot of Hawkins still believe that he’s some fucked up satanic cult leader, a murderer. Steve thinks if they could see Eddie adorned in daisy chain crowns while he entertains Steve’s own babysitting charges they’d change their minds, the whole fucking lot of them. 

But at least the guys he works with are decent people.

Carl’s teasing him as Eddie shimmies out from underneath the car and starts on removing the jack. Keeps mentioning a redhead, and Steve’s interest perks up.

“Oh? What- Munson, you got an admirer?”

“Jeez,” Eddie huffs. “Carl’s exaggerating.”

“Oh I don’t know ‘bout that,” Carl grins, sticking a cigarette between his lips. “Came back today, didn’t she? And I saw her leave you that number, Ed-”

Eddie smiles at that, pleased with himself. Steve grins, kicking him. “You sly dog. You’re picking up chicks on shift, huh?”

“Ah, the ladies of Hawkins dig the greasemonkey look, what can I say?”

“If that were true, I’d have ‘em lined up round the block,” Jorge mumbles, following Carl as they both head back in towards the shop, Carl puffing smoke out into the afternoon sunshine.

Eddie snorts. “He’s just bitter.”

“So?” Steve pushes, curious. “You got a date?”

Eddie hums. “Maaaybe. Got her digits at least.”

“Nice going, dude. You gonna call? Did we go to school with her?”

“Nah, think she moved here recently or something. Katy, she said her name was.”

“She cute?”

“Oh yeah. Tan. Kinda sporty looking.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. “‘Bout time. I’m sick of hearing you whine and bitch about how long it’s been since-”

Eddie groans, cutting him off. “Dude, cut me some slack. We can’t all be Steeeeeeeve Harrington, veritable royalty of Hawkins high with perfect fuckin’ hair and no previous murder charges.”

“Dropped murder charges.”

“Still, my point stands. It’s been ages since I got lucky, so.”

Steve nods. He gets it. 

“So you gonna call her tonight? Or play it cool.”

Eddie stares resolutely at his toolbox as he finishes cleaning up. “I dunno. She asked for tomorrow, but- y’know.”

“What?”

“Well- movie night.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.”

Steve can’t help it. He’s smiling like a fucking idiot- why’s he smiling so much? Why’s he feeling all light and happy now?

“I mean- look, I do need to get laid,” Eddie grins up at him, blinking up with his big brown eyes. Steve’s never noticed how long his eyelashes are. Long like the ones on girls. Longer than most girls.

“But I rented The Giant Spider Invasion for a reason, Harrington. That comes first.”

“Priorities in order,” Steve laughs, nudging him with one foot. It’s nice, feeling chosen like that. Steve’s always been the clingy one in his past relationships- the one always making the plans, prioritising quality time, initiating. Eddie matches him in this way. 

Not that they’re in a relationship. 

Because Eddie’s a guy, no matter how nice and clever and into cars he is, and regardless of how he’d rather watch shitty horror flicks on Steve’s couch than go on a date with a pretty girl. No matter how long his eyelashes are.

*

Steve calls blondie (Mary, her name is) that weekend, and makes arrangements for them to go out Tuesday night after work. It’s funny, actually, because that’s also the day Eddie tells him he’s taking Katy out- funny coincidence. Steve’s mind wanders when he picks Mary up, when they head out to the drive-in, when they’re watching Pretty In Pink, when they’re grabbing burgers after- where’s Eddie taking her? Are they still in Hawkins? Wouldn’t it be so funny if they ran into each other on their respective dates? 

To be honest, might make for a nice change of pace in the conversation- things are pretty flat between him and Mary. Flat, as in- dead in the water. They have nothing in common, and Steve can’t bring himself to really be interested in her answers to the questions he shoots her way in his usual routine of trying to get a girl to open up and relax around him. She’s relaxed, sure- she's pretty chatty, actually, but he just… he’s not interested. Maybe if they did run into Eddie and Katy they could double up. Then he’d get to hang with Eddie, and they’d get to finish their conversation yesterday where Eddie had been telling him about the time he’d been chucked out of a bar he’d been performing in and snuck back in to retrieve his stolen fake ID. He’d been interrupted mid story by Katy calling him after Eddie had left her a message, and then Steve had forgotten to ask him to finish it. It’s irking him.

So yeah, not great chemistry between him and Mary, sure. And it doesn’t exactly look like she’s feeling it either really- so Steve’s kind of surprised when she asks him to come in at the end of the night.

“My parents won’t be home for another two hours,” she flutters her eyelashes at him. 

And she’s pretty. Really, she’s a pretty girl.

But her eyes are the wrong colour. Her lashes aren’t long enough. And maybe Steve really is just picky now- maybe he really is only into brunettes.

He declines politely and kisses her cheek instead, says he’ll maybe call her later in the week.

He won’t, and she knows that. She rolls her eyes and stomps inside, and he drives back home feeling strangely bereft, and not because he’s deprived himself of an evening of easy, potentially strings-free sex.

It’s frustrating.

It weighs on him, for the next few days. He’s kind of in a slump- and Eddie seems to notice, when he drops into Family Video on Thursday, overalls still tied in a knot around his waist, low slung and dirty. 

“You, my friend, look one customer interaction away from ending it all.”

“Huh?”

Steve blinks at him as Eddie smiles tiredly, pushing a copy of Cujo across the counter at him.

“This for movie night?”

“Hmm… I feel like it’s the wrong caliber of movie for movie night. Too excellent.”

“Ah.”

Eddie frowns at him, and then leans over to poke at the wrinkle in the centre of Steve’s furrowed brow.

“Who pissed in your cereal?”

Steve sighs. “No one, man. Just- I don’t know. Weird week, I guess. I slept like shit too, last night.”

Eddie nods, slowly. “You working Friday?”

“Nah.”

“Wanna get high as balls tonight at mine then? Wayne’s on the nightshift, and I’m free after band practice. Come by after nine. You’ll sleep like a sweet babe after the shit I roll up for you Harrington, I promise you that.”

“Sure. Fuck it, why not.”

“Atta boy. Chin up, soldier- see ya later. Give my love to Buckles!”

Eddie whirls around after that, spinning out of the store and onto the sidewalk, whistling. It’s weird, because Steve already feels better now, better for seeing him. For having plans to actually look forward to later, with someone who’s company he actually enjoys.

Robin re-emerges from the break room as Eddie leaves, coming to join him by the front desk.

“You hanging with Eddie tonight?”

He hums in agreement. “Wanna join?”

Robin wrinkles her nose. “Not if you guys are smoking, Steve.”

“Your loss.”

“Funny, though. How much time you spend together- you guys are attached at the hip these days. Gonna be a real separation period when one of you finally gets a girlfriend.”

Steve hums, ignoring her pointed tone and leaning on his elbows as the next gaggle of customers comes in. She’s right, he supposes. It will be weird. Once again- the whole fucking thing would be easier if Eddie was a girl. If they could just date for real, ta-da! Two birds, one stone.

“Guess we’re just good buddies like that.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

*

He drives over after his shift, only bothering to sling off his uniform vest into the back and yank on a navy pullover, because the weather is finally starting to cool off a little. Eddie looks a little manic when he opens the door- it turns out he’d tried to make pasta for the two of them, but Eddie can’t cook to save himself, and Steve laughs himself hoarse at the mangled burning lump of something he’d ended up curating at the bottom of a black saucepan, stepping in to set fresh stuff onto boil and tease Eddie senseless, till he curls up on the ground whining about bullying in his own home. It’s this easy back-and-forth teasing Steve misses most when he talks to people who aren’t Eddie recently. Eddie’s probably in the best friends category, now Steve thinks about it- in a different way from Robin, somehow. 

Steve fixes the pasta. Eddie makes all these funny little appreciative noises while he eats, groaning over how good it is like he always does, even though it’s a really basic sauce recipe. That’s why Eddie’s Steve’s favourite person to cook for- he’s grateful. If he was a girl, that would drive Steve crazy, the fact Steve is able to make him that happy from a home cooked meal. Steve would cook for him all day, every day.

They lounge around in Eddie’s room after dinner, smoking until the room starts to feel all hazy and unreal, until Steve feels pleasure buzz through his veins and collect in his fingertips and toes. Till he’s giggling mindlessly at every stupid comment Eddie makes- he gets so chatty when he smokes, even more so than normal, and Steve likes to watch as he rants and rambles nonsensically while Steve gazes up at him, quiet and patient. It works between them.

Eddie’s trying to explain some Tolkien stuff again to him tonight. It’s a favourite topic of his to cover with Steve, because he gets so agitated when Steve refuses to read any of the books. He whines and flops around as if in physical pain, and then starts campaigning like a politician: Ten Reasons Why You Should Read The Hobbit. Steve might give in one day, but not until he’s really exhausted all of the potential entertainment available from winding Eddie up like this by refusing each time.

“I mean- Steve, you would love Aragorn. I just know you would. Have I told you about him? His backstory? I mean, I don’t want to spoil any shit, but-”

Steve groans in mock exasperation, poking Eddie’s thigh from where he lies on the floor beside Eddie’s legs. Eddie’s propped up against the bed, mid nerdy rant. Steve loves his nerdy rants. Steve is so, so stoned. Maybe Steve needs to find a nerdy girl- maybe that’s the issue. He just needs to date a girl like Eddie.

“-and when the elves-”

“You already told me about the elves,” Steve interjects, waving in the air. “And the dragon guy. Sm- smog?”

“Smaug-”

“Yeah, yeah, him. What about- are there any cool explosions? Like- action scenes? Or… what about hot chicks? Any of the elves hot?”

Eddie snorts. “Uh, yeah, Arwen. And there’s Galadriel.”

Steve squints. “Gala-what?”

Eddie sighs. “You can’t read Tolkien for hot female elves, Harrington.”

“You’re losing me here.”

“Did I ever have you in the first place?!”

“Eddie,” he whines, rolling over towards his legs. He has the weirdest urge to bite at his thigh, straight through Eddie’s ratty old sweatpants. “I’m too faded for this, dude. For Gala-something and Smog.”

“That you are, Steve, that you are,” Eddie hums. “‘Least you look less fuckin’ depressed now. What, was your date really that bad? Thought you said she was cute?”

Steve sighs dejectedly. He’d kind of forgotten all about Mary up till now.

“I don’t know. Just didn’t click, I guess.”

Eddie clucks his tongue sympathetically. 

“How ‘bout you? Katy? Did it go well?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose.

“Kind of. I dunno.”

He slumps further down onto the floor, hiding his mouth behind a lock of hair, biting his lip.

“Guess we didn’t really click either.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you at least…” Steve stares up at him, craning his neck and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Break the streak?”

Eddie scoffs. “Nah, man. Wasn’t feeling it.”

“Really? That bad? You’ve been whining about it for months dude. Thought you’d take any opportunity to-”

Eddie swats at his head, rolling his eyes, cheeks pink.

“Just knew it wouldn’t work out, even a one off. You know, if you aren’t feeling it…”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“That sucks.”

“So you’ve said.”

Steve isn’t sure what possesses him to ask the next question, really. Maybe it’s the weed. Maybe it’s the quiet, pensive look Eddie has now.

“When was the last time?”

Eddie blinks at him.

“The last time you got laid, I mean. Was it a… band girl?”

“Oh. Uh… yeah, I guess. After a concert last year out in Indy… maybe before christmas?”

“Wow, that is a while,” Steve snickers, and Eddie swats at his head again.

“So- what was she like? Did you guys know each other beforehand?”

“Not really. Just met her after the show, bit drunk. She was… she had black hair, short. Nice tits.”

Steve nods, picturing this black haired girl. Pictures her flirting with Eddie, finding him in a crowd. Maybe up at the bar, buying a drink.

“You guys go back to hers or something?”

Eddie grins at him slyly. 

“Oh. Uh- no. I had the van, and…”

Steve turns to look at him, eyes wide, laughing. “You fucked her in the van?”

“Hey- it wasn’t a total pigsty back then, I kept it clean! Romantic, like! I have blankets!”

“Jesus. Wined and dined.”

“I hear no complaints, so who gives a fuck, really.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “Oh? High customer satisfaction rate, Munson?”

Eddie blushes, to his delight- a little red in his cheeks and up his neck. It suits him, even as he rolls his eyes.

“Nothing like the rumours I’ve heard about King Steve, so.”

“Rumours, huh?”

“Oh dude, c’mon. You have like- half the bathroom graffiti dedicated to you, that and half the female population at Hawkins High singing your praises. Oh, Steve- he’s such a romantic, he’s such a gentleman-”

“Jesus,” Steve laughs, flopping back to lie staring up at Eddie’s ceiling. “That sweet, huh?”

“I mean- there were less sweet rumours, too.”

“Do share.”

“Steve. Come on. You know.”

Steve does know. He knows about all the rumours, because he used to be self-centered enough to care about that sort of thing in High School, and Tommy used to give him shit about all of it on the regular.

But.

He kind of wants to goad Eddie into saying it. Wants to know what Eddie’s heard.

“That I was a total do-good gentleman without any flaws?”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, that and the fact you ate pussy like a champ. That particular rumour even made it down to my lowly neck of the woods- you always go down, and it’s always a good time.”

Steve turns to look at him. Eddie’s looking away now though, avoiding his eyes- his face is really very red at this point, and he’s still absent mindedly playing with his hair, half hiding behind it. His pupils are all dark and blown, his eyes a little red from the weed.

“You’re not gonna ask?”

“What?”

“If it’s true.”

Eddie glances at him then, and suddenly Steve’s aware of how charged it all feels- air crackling around him with electricity.

Which. That’s kind of weird. Because Steve isn’t queer, but it sure fucking feels like the pre-storm current he gets between himself and a girl he’s hitting on, and the only person here is Eddie. His very male friend.

Thing is- if Eddie was a chick, Steve doesn’t think he’d be doing anything differently right now. This is actually still how he’d make a move- which is… is he flirting? Is he really that high, that desperate to get laid? That he’s honestly thinking about-

“Is it true?”

Eddie breaks the silence, but he doesn’t break his gaze away. His eyes are so dark and brown, wide and half lidded.

“Yeah.”

Eddie licks his lips, tongue pink and wet. Steve’s mouth suddenly feels dry as bone.

“And they- every time? High customer satisfaction rate?”

“I’d say so. Every time.”

Eddie hums, his voice all strained sounding, as if loaded up with something unreadable. 

“You like going down?” he asks Steve, voice a little wavery.

“Yeah,” Steve replies. “I fucking love it.”

“Oh.”

“Feels really good, making someone come like that. With my mouth. Could spend hours down there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Gets everything really wet, y’know. Before you fuck them.”

“Mmm,” Eddie hums, his eyes a little darker, breathing a little quicker. Steve wishes he’d move his hand from over his face. He wants to see Eddie’s mouth. Thinks about asking him for that, and then realises that’s a pretty weird thing to ask.

“You don’t like it?” he asks instead.

“I’ve only- once. I’ve only been with… three girls.”

“Fair enough.”

There’s a little lull after that, and then Steve’s mouth moves before his brain can catch up.

“But you liked fucking them?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Did you finish inside?”

It’s getting really weird, Steve thinks, I’m making this so weird. He and Tommy never spoke like this. Actually- maybe they did, once or twice, but things were always so weird with Tommy that it’s just- it’s not a good comparison to make, for male friendship. In fact, Tommy- Steve’s not sure he’s ever jerked off in the same room with someone else with anyone other than Tommy, and it had taken him a few years to realise that not all guys think that that’s chill dude behaviour. That it’s just a way to let off steam together, not weird at all.

“Once,” Eddie finally replies, voice a little strangled. He shifts his legs a little, and Steve tries really hard not to look at his dick. He wonders if Eddie’s hard. Steve is- mostly because they’re talking about fucking girls, and he’s high as shit, body feels good, neurons crossed. He’s been hard for a while, but thankfully he’s kind of tucked away in his jeans in a way he’s pretty sure makes it not too noticeable under the hem of his long pullover.

“You?” Eddie asks.

Steve bites his lip, considering. “Yeah. Bunch of times. Once without a condom- she was on the pill, y’know? Felt so fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Watched it drip out, after.”

Eddie makes a little strangled noise under his breath like fuck, choked off, shifting his legs. Jesus christ, Steve is so hard he feels chafed, aching. He’s this close to just asking Eddie if he wants to get off- separately, of course, like he and Tommy did a few times, just jerking off in the same room, in a very platonic and non-weird way. 

If Eddie was a girl, Steve would proposition him differently.

If Eddie was a girl, he’d be under Steve. Or over him, in his lap.

If Eddie was a girl, Steve would be fucking him right now. 

If Eddie was a girl, Steve would hold him down, make his red face turn even redder, draw out more of those choked-off little noises, make him whine Steve’s name as Steve came inside, filled him up, watched it drip back out. Cleaned him up with his tongue.

He turns his head to look up at Eddie- and Eddie’s already speaking, already opening his mouth to ask, “Steve-”

The phone rings.

Steve flinches, shock coursing through his system at the shrill noise. Eddie jolts comically too, legs drawing up to his knees, and then he pushes unsteadily to his feet, stumbles out to the hallway in the new double wide he and Wayne moved into after the government rehomed them. Answers the phone, mumbling into it. 

Steve is suddenly hit with a wave of irritation over the fact it could be Katy calling. Tan, sporty Katy, who Eddie took out on a date on Tuesday. Katy, interrupting his night with Eddie. Probably asking him out again. Asking if Eddie wants to come over and fuck her, make those strangled little noises in her room instead.

“Just Wayne,” Eddie mumbles, wandering back in. “He was callin’ to say he’d be home early, some shit gone wack at the plant so they’ve sent home half the staff.”

He doesn’t meet Steve’s eyes. Shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Uh. Wanna watch Cujo?”

Steve sighs. 

“Yeah.”

*

Steve doesn’t let himself overthink it.

Well- doesn’t let him overthink it too much. It does bear a little overthinking, he supposes- the fact that he’d accidentally pictured himself (fantasised about) fucking his male friend. Briefly. Once, when they were high, and he was hard as nails because they’d been talking about girls, and neither of them had gotten laid in way too long.

And then again, at home in the shower the next day, with his hand around his dick, thinking about how red Eddie had gone. Thinking about his neck, pale and smooth, when he’d moved his hair off it. About the noise he’d made when Steve had talked about doing a girl raw. That might have been the final nail in the coffin, really- thinking that, and then coming all over his fist.

He’s just- he got his wires crossed. Nice sensations happening around the wrong person.

And the thing is- he can’t even talk about this shit with Robin. Firstly, because she’d squeal in disgust over him talking about his dick to her. And about fucking girls, Robin doesn’t wanna know any sordid details, she’d told him that before. And secondly, because Robin wouldn’t get it. She’d be all… Steve, you’re acting insane. Steve, that’s kind of… weird. That’s kind of gay.

And Steve isn’t gay. He likes girls. And so does Eddie. And he knows- he’s pretty sure there are people who like both, that that’s a thing- but it seems like the kind of thing you’d be aware of from an early age. Like as soon as you know you like girls- you might play for both teams, y’know? And anyway, it wouldn’t- it wouldn’t make sense, to be into all girls and maybe one guy specifically. So no. Steve isn’t queer. And from the way Eddie talks about girls, neither’s Eddie.

It’s just- it’s the Robin-worm. The planted thought, grown from seed into an inconvenient tree, branching out to infect every corner of his mind- if only Eddie was a chick. Eddie, clever and nerdy, good with his hands, funny, easy to get along with. Eddie, who shares his interests, who doesn’t treat Steve like he’s thick as a brick, who tells him silly stories about his day, who always compliments Steve’s cooking like he’s some michelin star chef. Eddie, who’s kind and sweet and good with kids and co-parents Dustin and wants to be a dad one day, even if his own dad was an asshole (he and Steve have had multiple drunk conversations about that.) Eddie, who has curly brown hair and the biggest, prettiest eyes Steve’s ever seen, pale smooth skin with pink and silver scars, pink lips, red cheeks, long legs, a waist Steve wants to grab at, a neck Steve wants to mark up.

So yeah. Steve is like- really into Eddie. But Steve isn’t gay, so- jesus, christ. He just- he needs to find the girl version. He needs to stop having crises in the break room on shift. He needs to stop fantasising about fucking Eddie Munson, even if he isn’t a girl.

“You going to Eddie’s gig tonight?”

Robin stares down at him where Steve crouches on the ground, picking up the stack of return tapes he’d spilled off of the countertop. She raises her eyebrows questioningly.

“Oh- at the Hideout? Yeah, course.”

“Course.”

“You?”

“Obviously. I even have my handy dandy fake ID you guys sorted me with.”

Steve snorts, snatching it from her hand. It’s a bit of a dud, but it’ll do to get into dive bars and small concert venues. Robin doesn’t even drink much, so he doubts she’ll be abusing it much in the future.

“Did you manage to ask Vickieeee?” he teases, poking her in the arm while she turns pink in the face. 

“Yes, god, stop leering at me like that. You look like a creep.”

“I’m trying to be supportive!”

“You are, dingus. I did ask her, yeah. She said she’d meet us there at eight.”

“Cool,” Steve smiles. He’s happy for her. And then he remembers what he was supposed to tell her earlier, before he’d gotten distracted on shift daydreaming about what might have happened at Eddie’s that night if Wayne hadn’t called, and they’d been left alone in the room with nothing but that sweet, aching tension between them.

“Oh shit, guess who I saw earlier in Melvads?”

“Who?”

“Dan. Dan Shelter- must be back from college again. He was with some blonde chick.”

Robin snorts. Steve knows Vickie broke it off with Dan a few months back- shortly after the world had gone to shit and she and Robin had started volunteering together in the aftermath.

“He can’t be too heartbroken then.”

“Yeah,” Steve laughs. “Guess not. I mean… she probably never even liked him, right?”

Robin squints at him, with a you’re-acting-weird look on her face.

“Vickie? Cause, y’know… I was right. About her liking chicks?”

“Yeah,” Robin replies, speaking slowly, “but that doesn’t mean she didn’t like Dan. She did, for a while. They dated for a few months, Steve.”

Steve frowns. “Yeah, but-”

“Steve. You know- Vickie likes both, you know that, right? I thought- you know you can like both? Guys and girls? That’s like, a thing?”

Steve blinks at her. “Sure.”

“Yeah,” Robin smiles, eyes wide. She looks a little loopy. “Yeah, sure. Like Bowie, y’know?”

“Huh. Like Bowie.”

“So, Vickie likes guys- and she’s actually only ever dated guys, up till now. For a while, Vickie only thought she was into guys.”

Steve nods, frowning down at his hands. 

“But then- then she realised, maybe she’s into girls too. Like me. I think.”

Steve snorts. “You think, like she doesn’t try and stick her tongue in your mouth every time we-”

“Ok, ew- enough about Vickie’s tongue, thanks. Point is- she didn’t realise- maybe she needed to meet a specific girl, or girls to realise… you get me? Right?”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, I guess. Congratulations on showing Vickie the light, Rob.”

“God,” Robin huffs, “why do I bother?”

“What? Why are- you’re acting so weird, what did I even-”

“Nothing, airhead. C’mon and help me restock this shelf, we still have an hour left to kill before we’re free of Keith’s minimum wage kingdom, and we are still but lowly serfs under oath to ensure the customers have a wide selection of romance movies to choose from.”

“You sound like Eddie,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Ha! I bet,” Robin grumbles, turning away. Then she changes to subject to her mother’s insistence on her applying for college in Chicago rather than Indy, and the topic of Vickie Dunne’s sexuality doesn’t re-appear.

Several hours later, and Steve is squashed in at the Hideout in his favourite stripy polo over snug fitting levi’s, nursing a beer alongside Robin and Vickie, and trying to look away distractedly whenever they start giggling to each other a little too closely. The bar is pretty packed at this point- it’s almost ten, and Corroded Coffin are late on. Steve’s wondering if he has time for a quick smoke break- but then Eddie and his little troupe of misfits wander into their designated raised section of the venue, wielding guitars and drumsticks and chattering to each other over the din.

He looks- fuck. He looks good. It’s enough to make Steve pause as he sips his beer, swallowing slowly. He’s in big chunky boots and a baggy black tank top with the sides all cut away and some faded silver graphic on the front Steve doesn’t recognise, and his hair is half tucked under a red silk bandana this time. His scars stand out a little among the scattered tattoos over his pale skin, and Steve lets his eyes roam over them. Over the matching ones they share on his left side, up his hip. He wonders how far those extend on Eddie. 

Eddie says something into the mic, but the crowd is too noisy for Steve to properly catch it, and someone at the front is speaking to Eddie anyway, and he laughs, bending over and wheezing against the mic stand. Lights glint off his silver rings, silver chain on his neck, silver in his ears. Steve’s only been with one girl who wore jewelry like Eddie’s, and she’d had a piercing in her bellybutton too. He wonders if Eddie has them anywhere else, and has to turn away suddenly as arousal coils in his gut, swig his beer and duck his eyes. The room feels too full, overheated.

The band breaks into motion a moment later. 

Eddie sings the way he performs when he’s the dungeon master in Steve’s kitchen- his performance is dramatic and alluring in the sense that it’s hard to tear your eyes away, hard to look anywhere else. He’s the focal point of the room, hair flying as he and Jeff bop around to the music, letting the crowd surge around them. He has a good voice, although this isn’t really Steve’s kind of music. But his talent really shines when he plays, fingers flying across the frets during solos, head bent and eyes shut as if in worship, lip between his teeth. The look on his face is borderline pornographic at times, and Steve feels the breath catch in his throat. 

He spends the entire set avoiding Robin’s eyes, (he feels her watching him watch Eddie like a physical touch), staring out at Eddie perform, and thinking to himself- jesus, if this was based on looks alone? Not sure there’s a girl in this bar who could hold a candle to Eddie. Maybe not a girl in this town, in this state. Nevermind the fact that he’s Steve’s type, with his crazy curly hair and his big eyes and soft lips, but the way he moves and dresses and dances around, all teasing laughter and dark looks and tattooed skin- it’s really, genuinely doing something for Steve. Doing it like- if you were a girl I’d queue up for your number. If you were a girl I’d buy you any drink you wanted. If you were a girl I’d ask to get acquainted with the back of your van after the show.

In the aftermath, Robin and Vickie drag him to a little table to the side, and Steve listens as Vickie gushes over the performance. She’s kind of into this music, she tells them. Robin gazes at her adoringly as she speaks, and Steve pretends not to notice that they’re holding hands under the table.

He looks out to the crowd. Eddie’s clearly a little liar, because he’d always bashfully told Steve and Robin that the crowd they usually entertain here consists of three to five drunks who like to heckle them from the bar, but there’s a really decent sized amount of patrons here, and a lot of them too to be in a similar… subculture class, as Eddie and the rest of them. There’s lots of long-haired guys and girls with unnaturally dyed hair, lots of black clothes and boots and piercings. And then Steve sees him, making his way towards them in the crowd, smiling widely at them, all sweaty and glowing under the overhead lights.

And then- a flash of red hair. 

Eddie’s intercepted- she’s short, and kind of muscly. Pretty, in her black tee and jeans, red hair spilling effortlessly over her tan, freckly face and shoulders. Eddie smiles at her easily as she lets go of his arm, nodding in greeting, wiping sweat from his brow. 

He’s taller than her, framing her in. Steve has to look away then, because there’s something- there’s a jabbing, dull ache in his gut, and it's awful in its familiarity. He hasn’t felt it this strongly since he first saw Jonathan Byers asleep in Nancy’s room on her floor like a lapdog, and it’s just- it’s too much. 

Robin catches his eye, and the knowing there stings too. He looks up again, and Eddie’s still trying to make his way over to them, detaching himself from Katy- because it is Katy, it must be her, and she catches his arm again, frustration in her expression. Eddie looks a little annoyed too now, and Steve hates the way she’s touching him at this point, hates the fact Eddie clearly doesn’t want her to touch him.

He’s moving against his own will, snaking through the throng of people until he reaches him, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulder. Just a drunken guy friend. Eddie relaxes into him, and Steve watches as Katy finally lets go, hurt on her face, resigned.

“Dude,” Steve calls over the noise, “you were awesome! C’mon, we’re all over here. Me and the girls.”

At the word girls, Katy flinches, and then with one final scowl in Steve’s direction, mutters whatever and storms away. Funny, Steve thinks. The fact that he and Eddie have two girls waiting for them (two girls who are entirely uninterested in either of them, who are holding hands under the table at this very moment) is the nail in the coffin for her to back off. 

“Hey,” Eddie grins, “thanks, Harrington. Jeeees-us. I don’t… I didn’t-”

“You’re good. You looked a little, uh, stuck.”

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs. “Stuck, right. Fuck, I need a beer. Buy me a beer, Steve- don’t I deserve a beer? Tell me how good I played, c’mon. I know you want to.”

Steve jostles him under his arm- he really should lift it by now, social norms dictate that you don't normally squeeze your guy friend like this in public for this length of time- and then steers him towards the bar, laughing low in Eddie’s ear about the racket he’d made up in stage. Pretending like the entire performance hadn’t been a bit of a final wakeup call- a realisation that maybe it really doesn’t matter that Eddie’s a guy. Maybe Steve’s beginning to forget to care about that little hiccup. 

*

Steve’s pretty out of it the next day, and when Sunday rolls around, he’s kind of in a slump. He, Eddie, Robin and Vickie had spent the rest of their time that night bickering loudly until the bar had closed, and Steve had dropped the girls off home before collapsing in bed. He’d had to try really hard not to act weird around Eddie, even though the thoughts about touching him that night had reached a fever pitch- as though the mere fact that Steve might not care about what equipment Eddie’s packing in those tight black jeans is enough to drive him to constantly want to get his hands (and mouth) all over his one and only close guy friend. 

So. That’s a problem, maybe. Especially given the fact that regardless of how Steve feels (confused, mostly, horny, some), is irrelevant if Eddie doesn’t feel the same way.

And really, he probably doesn’t. Doesn’t feel anything other than friendship for Steve, except maybe gratitude when Steve buys him beer or embarrassment when Steve teases him about his headbanging performance. And if Steve got a little too close during that teasing, leaning into his space the way he would if he was flirting with a girl, tugging on a lock of Eddie’s hair, then, well- who’s business is that, really? Certainly not Robin’s, who’d spent the night watching Steve with distinct curiosity, as though Steve was a mildly interesting zoo animal.

Eddie hadn’t really leaned away or anything- he hadn’t tried to move out of Steve’s space like he had with Katy, but then again… Eddie is just like that, he’s like that with everyone. Tactile and clingy, generous with his touch, freely given to anyone he considers friendly around him. So it’s kind of hard to get a read on all of it.

Which is why Steve goes a little haywire when Eddie calls his place around midday and asks if he’d be cool to come and hang that afternoon. 

Steve’s pretty sure he’d told Robin to come round later in the evening for a movie night- Vickie was gonna drop her off, he thinks, but there’s no harm in Eddie swinging by beforehand. Steve’s been bugging him for weeks now about playing pool with him in the basement, where it’s nice and cozy (and Steve is really good at pool, and totally not competitive, totally uninterested in showing Eddie how good at it he really is.) He thinks he can get Eddie to cave to his whims and play a few rounds when he swings by at three, if he tries hard enough.

As it turns out, he barely needs to try at all.

Eddie gets a little distracted sometimes, his head in the clouds, out of it- and that appears to be the case today. He’s a bit spacey, zoning out in conversation, hardly whining at all when Steve drags him down to the basement, cracking open cans of beer and arranging the balls into their customary triangle on the table, the satisfying clicking noises loud in the quiet room. He lets Eddie stick a record on, quiet thrum of Pink Floyd petering out from the player in the corner, and gives him a cue.

Eddie sighs, resigned. 

“You know I’ve only played this like- twice, right? And both times I nearly injured someone. Multiple people, in fact- I don’t  think you’re quite grasping the terrible hand-eye co-ordination thing-”

“Eddie, chill. I’ll keep a cue’s distance from you at all times, and anyway- practice makes perfect, right? You know I’ve got Robin to play down here, Robin. Pretty sure if I can survive playing with the clumsiest person Hawkins has to offer, I’ll live through this.”

Eddie mumbles under his breath about unfair jock advantages once again, but he lets Steve break without any further complaints. Steve pots a stripe, a red one, and then nods at Eddie. 

“So you’re-”

“The plain ones, got it. I’m prepared for my humiliation ritual.”

Steve smirks, arms folded across his chest, as Eddie leans over the table, tongue out in focus. That fucking tongue. It’s always out, when Eddie’s concentrating, or laughing, or swiping it over his lips. It’s always pink. Wet.

He groans as he jolts the cue and the white careens to the side, scattering a group of balls aimlessly. Steve nods. 

“Hey, you hit it.”

“Don’t patronise me, Harrington. I’ll hit you.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows, and Eddie whaps him gently with the end of the cue, getting a chalk smudge on his red tee. He huffs in mock-outrage, walking by Eddie to line up the white, poking his waist as he moves. Hears the hitch in Eddie’s breath, interesting.

The tension is back. The tension from Thursday night, hot and thick in the air. And he’s barely touched Eddie, barely looked at him. Steve feels a little giddy.

He sinks two more stripes, leaning over the table, arms taught with tension, and then knocks the white out into the middle of the field, letting Eddie line his up. Eddie’s all pink in the face now, but he does manage to sink one this time- Steve may or may not have let the white roll into a fairly convenient patch on the table. Maybe.

“Count your days, Steeeeve,” Eddie mutters under his breath, eyes glinting now. He tucks his hair behind his ear, and then goes for a second. 

It kind of goes horribly in the funniest way.

He manages to sink both a stripe and the white. The ball he’d been aiming for lies untouched, and Eddie’s mouth drops open in confused outrage while Steve giggles behind him.

“Oh fuck you-”

“You’re such a sore loser!”

“You’re an asshole. Take your shot, dickwad.”

“My two shots, you mean. Aren’t you familiar with the rules? I thought rulebooks were your thing, what with all your nerdy gaming shit.”

“I have better rules to familiarise myself with than pool, Harrington. This ‘sport’ is entirely beneath me. Any sport with balls is.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, and Eddie snorts derisively.

“You gonna stare at me for the rest of the day or actually sink something?”

“Hmm,” Steve hums wryly, as if debating. He cocks a hip against the table, and god- the way Eddie’s face goes redder the longer he stares- it’s so good. Is he just not used to being flirted with? That’s a fucking crime if there ever was one. “I’m just deciding which shot to take.”

“Well hurry up, I’m growing old here.”

Steve does eventually pot two more, and the next time Eddie goes to take his own shot, Steve watches him- the shake in his bicep from the awkward angle he’s in, the tension in his shoulders, the way he leans over the table to get at the ball, pointing the cue all wrong. His fingers, in the way and fumbling over the tip.

“Can I- will you like, hit me if I try and help you?”

Eddie scowls up at him through his bangs, still bent in place.

“What, you gonna talk me through it?”

Steve swallows. 

“C’mon, man. I’m only trying to- I just mean, your technique is all fucked. It’ll be easy to show you. Then you can kick my ass when I drag you down here again to play in future, yeah?”

Eddie squints at him for a moment and then looks back at the ball, wavering.

“Fine, do your worst, Harrington.”

Steve comes up behind him, and moves the cue a little.

“No- no stay there, I’ll just- it’s easier to correct it, like this. Hold it looser, towards the top- yeah, that’s it, good. Like you’re cradling it.”

Eddie shifts, but doesn’t say anything. His ears are all red. Steve’s behind him now, staring and staring. He reaches out- he can touch, right? That’s allowed now?

“Then- just move your arm lower, and relax here, see?”

He steers Eddie into place, brushes his knuckles over the back of his shirt, once, and then presses his palm there until he feels the tension melt away underneath him. 

“And you don’t need to lean over so much like this, see? You can shift back a little-”

Eddie moves back, and Steve’s hand drops automatically to his hip. It’s instinctive, and yet no less thrilling, especially because Eddie doesn’t resist- if anything, he shuffles a little closer. 

Suddenly, Steve’s aware of what this actually looks like. If anyone walked in right now. Eddie, bent over the table, arms outstretched, and Steve pressed up behind him, hand on his hip, guiding him. He feels arousal pool low in his body, blood rushing south, bottom lip in his teeth. 

Steve’s pretty sure he has an inkling of how two guys get down to business. He’d been with a girl once- a church girl, ironically- who’d asked him to stick a finger up there because she’d had some twisted idea that she’d still be a virgin if he fucked her in a different hole. They’d never got that far, because after three fingers she’d decided not to go through with it, and Steve had been a little disappointed because he’d been curious as to how it would differ from pussy. Point being- if he was to bend Eddie over, that’s- well.

The little tin of vaseline he keeps on his person as the weather cools is burning a hole in his jeans pocket right about now. Vaseline probably isn’t the best tool for the job, and yet the vision comes to him unbidden regardless- Eddie, bent over with his face red, moaning Steve’s name as Steve drives into him over the pool table, jeans around their ankles, fingers in a bruising grip over Eddie’s pale hips.

He has to shimmy back a little after that, because his dick is really not getting the memo to calm the fuck down, and lets Eddie take the shot.

At the very least, Steve’s a decent teacher. He sinks a solid perfectly, and then another. He’s quieter now though, barely any snippy little witticisms sent Steve’s way after that performance. Steve can feel heat in his own cheeks, and he silently takes his own shot after.

They get pretty close in the end. Well- Steve might be deliberately bottling his own shots. Sure, he’s competitive- but he also kind of doesn’t want this game to end. It feels like a spell, and an excuse to touch Eddie as they navigate the world around the table, touching his waist as he moves past him, offering advice in a low voice near his ear, watching him swallow after Steve flexes his own arms potting a stripe across the table, neat and efficient with a sharp thwack. 

So it’s split now. Whoever takes the black takes it all.

Thing is- Steve plays fair. Steve always plays fair, other than giving himself his own handicap. But Eddie clearly doesn’t. 

Because when Steve leans over to take his final shot- inhaling slow and ready to knock the black home- Eddie leans in, nice and close, lips to his ear as Steve’s eyes go wide, and whispers boo!

Just as he takes the shot.

The cue flinches, and the white goes awry- he manages to make it jump, bouncing off the table and rolling on the ground across the room as he rounds on Eddie, who cackles loudly, dancing in victory at his little interruption.

“No way, Munson. I’m getting another go at that- you totally distracted me! Sabotage!”

“Thems the rules, Steve, thems the rules. You made your play, now it’s my turn.”

“In your dreams- I’m taking another shot-”

“No you don’t-”

They both race for the ball at the same time, and Eddie actually pushes him out of  the way and flies to the ground, Steve on him just he manages to close a hand over the ball, squirming beneath him. They roll for a moment, and Eddie kicks desperately underneath him, cursing as Steve pins his arms to the floor above his head and tries to extract the ball, laughing and squeezing his thighs over Eddie’s stomach. One of Eddie’s hands wriggle free, and he jabs at Steve in the rib until Steve wheezes, collapsing over him further, both of them breathing hard and laughing, Eddie’s fingers poking his sides as he wriggles furiously in Steve’s grasp.

And then Steve pins him down again, and he feels a kind of hot satisfaction in his gut over his upper body strength. He and Eddie are pretty even in height, but Steve is stocky where he’s skinny, muscular where he’s lithe. His hands are bigger, broader, easier to grasp him in place while he pants beneath Steve, staring up suddenly with his big, brown eyes, then looks away as he tries to buck Steve off- Steve just wants him to stay still, dammit- and one of his hands is tangled in Eddie’s hair, so he thoughtlessly tugs-

Eddie gasps, and it sounds an awful lot like a whimper. Steve feels his eyes go wide, and is suddenly struck with the knowledge that the semi in his jeans is quickly on its way to being a full blown issue, and he’s sitting across Eddie’s waist, pinning him down. Eddie’s eyes are squeezed shut, chest heaving- Steve moves again, and he can’t look away, not when he shuffles back and rolls his hips down, not when he feels how hard Eddie is in his jeans too, hard as he bucks his hips up, choking back what could have been a moan.

And Steve wants to hear that.

“Ste-eve,” Eddie pants, and it comes out all whiny and broken in the middle. “You’re- get off, man.”

Steve grinds down again, mindless. Then he panics, and moves back.

“Sorry- I- I’ll stop, if you don’t want-”

Eddie stares at him, frozen.

“If I don’t want what?” he asks quietly. “If I don’t- what is it you think I don’t want here?”

Steve stares down at him, stretched out underneath him. Eddie bites his lip, and his eyes are all dark. His cheeks are all red, and his hair is everywhere as his chest heaves, breathing harsh. He’s still hard beneath Steve when Steve rolls his hips again, languid and slow, mouth dropping open at how good the friction feels.

“Don’t want me to touch you,” he huffs, “if you don’t want-”

“I want,” Eddie groans, “I want- fuck, Steve-”

He’s still gripping the white ball in one hand, wrists clamped beneath Steve’s fingers as Steve tips his head down, rutting against Eddie as he bucks his hips, eyes fluttering shut as their foreheads press together. Eddie makes these soft little bitten off noises as he grinds, uh uh uh, and suddenly Steve feels desperate, dying, needs to make Eddie come, and they haven’t even kissed yet- they’re half breathing into each others mouths, and when he finally releases Eddies hands the ball tumbles to the ground with a thunk as Eddie’s hands come up to bury themselves in Steve’s hair, pulling at it till he groans in pleasure, and Eddie’s mouth finally comes home in a kiss.

He’s all sloppy desperation. He kisses like a dying man- like this is the only time he’s ever going to get to kiss Steve, which is ridiculous, because Steve plans on making this a repeat event as often as possible. 

His body coils beneath Steve- he’s all flat planes, jutting hipbones, firm chest. He’s hard in his jeans, and he’s making out with Steve and Steve’s going to get off on this- on Eddie, on Eddie being a guy, and he just doesn’t care anymore, and maybe he is gay, or both, like Bowie, and maybe it just doesn’t matter, because Eddie’s mouth is on his neck, at his ear, moaning his name like a fucking pornstar.

“Jesus, Harrington,” Eddie pants against his throat as Steve gets his hands on his belt buckle, fumbling, “I didn’t- thought I was fucking imagining all of that, are you- is this actually happening?”

“Feels pretty real to me,” Steve comments, squeezing Eddie’s dick through his briefs. Eddie hisses, bucking into his touch- there’s a wet spot at the front, and Steve is suddenly, desperately, starving to get his mouth down there. To prove to Eddie that the rumours are true- Steve Harrington always goes down, and it’s always a good time.

“But- I thought- but you’re not-”

“Can I-” Steve wiggles off him, down between his thighs, so his head is over Eddie’s groin.

Eddie goes bug eyed for a moment, and then thunks his head back, laughing gently, half hysterical. “You- you wanna suck me off? Oh I am dreaming. This isn’t real. Wayne’s gonna wake me up in about five minutes-”

“You dream about me a lot, Eddie?”

“Do I- Steve. Stevie. You’ve been driving me insane for the past month, yes I dream about you a lot. Fuck, you- I’ve gone through an entire identity crisis because of dream-Steve. You know I- I’m not even gay-”

“Me either,” Steve interjects, “I- I like girls.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. I also like girls.”

“But I really want to suck you off, and I also thought about bending you over the pool table earlier and-”

“Holy shit, holy shit, slow down tiger. Steve, if you- if you keep talking like that, I’m gonna cream my pants before you get a chance to- never mind, actually, if you put your mouth anywhere near me right now I’m gonna-”

“In your dreams,” Steve cuts in, hands stroking firmly up Eddie’s thighs, spreading his legs open. “How did I… what was I doing?”

“What were you doing?” Eddie whispers, and his hand comes up to cup Steve’s jaw. He looks shocked. He looks reverent. “God, Steve. Fuck. You were- you did a lot of things, I guess. This being a repeat offender though- your mouth, on my-”

“Like this?”

“Sometimes.”

“Or was it different?” Steve asks, pressing open mouthed kisses to Eddie’s hipbones, biting at the waistband of his briefs. Eddie’s hips twitch upwards, and Steve hears the breathy fuck he lets out, just like that time they’d been in Eddie’s room while Steve talked about coming in a girl.

“Was I leaning over you? Or was I… was I on my knees?”

Jackpot. Eddie closes his eyes, mouth dropping open silently. “Stop talking.”

“Ok, so-”

“No, Steve- seriously. Stop talking.”

“You should stand up,” he says, voice laced with a little teasing lilt. “Can you do that for me, Eddie? Can you stand on your own?”

Eddie kind of whines in response, and shuffles back as Steve stands up, still between his spread thighs. He gazes down at Eddie- lying back on his elbows, shirt all rucked up, hickey on his pale hip- he bruises like a dream, like Steve knew he would. His cheeks are red, his eyes glazed over. Steve offers him a hand.

“C’mon, champ.”

“Jesus,” Eddie chokes. “What is happening right now?”

“You’re gonna stand here,” Steve says, hauling him to his feet and then walking Eddie back against the pool table, up in his face until Eddie bumps into it, half falls backwards until Steve grabs the front of his shirt, crowding against him. Then he slowly drops back down to his knees, gazing up sweetly through his lashes. “And I’m gonna make you come. That okay?”

“That- yes. Yes, okay. So okay. Yes please.”

Steve laughs a little, then bites his thigh, smiling as Eddie jumps. Yes please. “You’re sweet.”

He hears Eddie whisper what the fuck is happening as he tugs at his undone jeans, and pulls out his dick. He’s rock hard- liable to go off any second, Steve thinks. Steve wants to taste him first- he smells musky, salty. Good.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Steve tells him, and guides Eddie’s hand into his hair. He glances up, sees Eddie biting down on his own fist, eyes dark and wide- he reaches up and tugs at his hand. 

“No way, let me hear you. I love how you sound.”

“Steve-”

He puts his mouth over the head, and Eddie cuts off, strangled. It is kind of salty, but mostly it just tastes like skin, clean and smooth. He’s a little smaller than Steve, but not by much- still far too big to try to shove down your throat, Steve guesses. Still- he tongues at the slit, and then licks a strip from head to base, just to gauge a reaction- it rips a gasp right out of Eddie’s mouth, and the hand in Steve’s hair tightens- and oh that feels good, makes him want more. He takes Eddie back in his mouth and tries to move down the shaft, teeth away under his lips, and Eddie moans, so very loud and hot. His hips buck and Steve hears him curse as he bobs his head, hears him groan under his breath, jesus fuck your mouth, your mouth- fuck, sweetheart. It’s like a direct line of pleasure straight to his dick, makes him moan around Eddie, one hand on the rest of him where he’s too big to fit in Steve’s mouth, and suddenly Eddie freezes-

“I’m- you should move back, I’m gonna-”

Steve pushes down lower, feels it kiss the back of his throat, and it kicks as Eddie comes, and fills his mouth up, down his throat.

It tastes kind of bitter and salty, but not too bad. Steve swallows around him as Eddie cries out a half choked version of his name, pulling his hair. When he pulls back and licks him clean, Eddie whimpers. Steve is genuinely hard to the point of aching at this point- Eddie pulls him to his feet, leaning in to lick into his mouth, wet and dirty, gasping against him.

“Fuck, Steve, that was- that’s fucking ruined me, man- I need to- what do you want? How do you- can I help you? Please?”

Steve kisses him again, gripping his jaw in place, licking at him. “Yeah,” he rasps, “I want-”

“You said earlier… you wanted to bend me over, over here, right?” Eddie murmurs, in between kisses. His eyes are so very dark now, fingers looped through Steve’s belt loops, tugging him close. “You wanna bend me over, Steve?”

Steve’s eyes are wide as saucers. “But- have you ever-”

“No. But you can use my thighs if you want. If you’re already-”

“I’m close,” Steve cuts in, grinding against him, “fuck, that’s- yeah. Let me do that, let me bend you over-”

He lets Steve manhandle him in place, tug his briefs further down, and hey- look at that, the vaseline might be of use after all. Eddie smirks at him as he swipes a finger through it after shucking his own pants down a little, oils up his thighs a little between that and the mess of drool down there.

“Next time,” Eddie pants, as Steve finally slides his dick in between his legs, groaning in satisfaction as he presses Eddie down over the table, “I’ll let you fuck me for real, you want that? Wanna open me up and bend me over-”

“Christ, Eddie-”

He has one hand on Eddie’s hip, the other in the small of his back, eyes shut as he fucks in between his thighs, chasing the sweet, tightening tension in his lower body, cursing and gripping Eddie hard enough to bruise when he finally comes, hips stuttering, moaning fuck, baby, that’s it, you’re so tight-

Eddie laughs afterwards, a total mess over the table. His hair spills out over his pale skin, and Steve collapses back. 

“Never gonna be able to look at a pool cue the same way,” he manages, tucking himself away and searching for something to clean them up with.

“I actually think I’ve converted,” Eddie tells him, eyes bright as he re-buckles his jeans. “Changed sides, as it were.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’m all into pool now. Into jock sports too. I’ll learn all the rules.”

“Flatterer.”

Steve walks up close to him, backing him against the table again. Kisses him slow, and then down over his neck- leaves another bruise there, possessive and damning. A nice message for any redheads Eddie might run into at his next show.

They clean up after, and then spend a good twenty minutes making out lazily on Steve’s slouchy leather couch in the basement. It’s just getting heated again- Eddie making a mess of his neck, whining into him as Steve rubs his palm over his dick- when the doorbell rings.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps, as Steve jolts up.

“Robin, holy shit, I forgot Robin was-”

“You invited Buckley over?” Eddie hisses. “When were you going to mention-”

“I didn’t exactly- I didn’t know we were going to-”

“What, there was no seduction plan, Harrington? That’s a goddamn lie, after you spent half an hour posing across the pool table giving me fuck me eyes and pressing your dick against my ass-”

“Can you stop talking about your ass while I answer the door, please?”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie grumbles, rolling off him and fixing his hair. They both hurry up to the door, breathless and panicky. Steve’s mind is haywire, what the fuck- and they haven’t even talked much, not really. He yanks the door open, and Robin blinks at him. She squints as she wanders inside, nodding to Eddie and shrugging off her denim jacket. She’s looking at them both like they've each grown a second head. 

“Hey,” Steve tries, faux causal. “What’s, uh. How was Vickie’s? How’s Vickie doing?”

“Vickie’s good,” Robin replies, eyes narrowed. “She’s good. We’re dating, now.”

“Oh, nice, Buckley,” Eddie grins. He punches her in the arm, a little lamely.

“Uh huh. I’m a lucky girl. And speaking of, Steven…”

Steve swallows.

She pokes his neck and he wriggles back, scowling. “What the fu-”

“Who’s the lucky girl?” she asks sweetly. “Unless you got in a fight with a vacuum cleaner.”

Fuck. The hickies. Jesus.

And like an idiot, Steve looks at Eddie. At the traitorous matching set of purplish red bite marks around his collarbones, under his ear- fresh, recent, damning. 

“She- uh-”

“Mary?” Robin tries, biting back a smile as she leans against the doorframe.

“Oh. No, not Mary, no…”

“Well, I hope this one sticks at least. It’s been a while since you’ve found someone you really click with, right?”

Steve bites his lip. He can’t look at Eddie, but he can feel Eddie’s stare on him, can tell his eyes are all wide. 

“Yeah, I think so. I… I really like this person. I think we click-”

“Oh man,” Eddie gulps, “you- do you mean that, Harrington? Seriously? Like- this wasn’t just- and you-”

Steve and Robin both turn to stare at him, open mouthed, twin expressions of shock. Eddie’s all red, and his eyes are all shiny. “Like- you really like me? Because I- yeah. I also- fuck. I mean- I know I said I wasn’t gay and all-”

“Why is the concept of bisexuality so difficult to grasp around here?” Robin mutters.

“-but I really, honest to fuck like you. Like, I wanna date the shit out of you. If that’s cool.”

Steve blinks at him, mouth still agape. 

“Yeah. That’s- that’s cool,” he eventually croaks, and Eddie beams at him, dimples in his cheeks, Steve’s bruises on his neck, the prettiest Steve’s ever seen him.

“Damn,” he grins, leaning back on his heels. “I bagged Steve Harrington. Bet the ladies of Hawkins High would haaaate to see me now. Eddie the freak Munson, lowly peasant and chief nerd, trailer park scum-”

“Okay, we get it,” Steve groans, but Eddie just cackles, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek with a loud smack.

“What the fuck,” Robin manages, “is happening right now? I mean this-” she gestures at them, Steve’s hand snaked around Eddie’s waist, “this, I kind of… I wondered. At least from Steve. I had an inkling. But- Steve- did you somehow- did you navigate a sexuality crisis in a matter of weeks, and land a- I mean- that just doesn’t seem fair. That’s way unfair! You should have struggled more! Internally!”

“I did struggle!” Steve scoffs, “I fucking- I thought I was going crazy. I kept wishing Eddie would wake up with boobs or something. Or that I’d somehow find the girl version of him.”

“Tough luck, Harrington.”

“Yeah, well. What can I say, you’re my dream girl,” Steve replies dryly, poking him in the side, “my type to a T.”

“Sweet talker.”

“Do I need to leave?” Robin demands, hands on her hips. “Do you guys need, like- alone time?”

“What? No. I thought we were gonna watch Airplane Two.”

“I’ve already seen it,” Eddie sighs, “but fine, stick it on. Can you grab me another beer?”

“Sure, honey,” Steve tells him, voice all teasing- but from the way Eddie’s cheeks go pink, that’s another revelation being unlocked. Eddie blinks at him stupidly, and Robin facepalms.

“God. I don’t know whether to feel delighted for you both or kind of disgusted. Reel it in, Steve.”

“Jealousy is a disease,” Steve calls from the kitchen, fetching Eddie another can. He flops down next to him on the sofa, tugging him in close, all giddy and a little overwhelmed. He figures they should both probably be freaking out more about this, and yet he can’t bring himself to care. Robin mutters under her breath about should have stayed in with my girlfriend, and the movie starts, and Eddie holds his hand, letting Steve twist the silver rings around his fingers over and over.

He knows it’ll stick this time- this relationship. Feels it in his bones. How could it not, when Eddie’s such a perfect fit for him? Turns out Robin was right from the very beginning- his other half’s been under his nose this entire time.