Work Text:
December, 1992
“So repeat after me: I will not do drugs with strangers in the bathroom unless–”
“Unless that stranger is really hot and alluring–” Robin cuts Steve off, laughing.
“Robin, stop! You’re muddying the waters here.”
“Steeeeve, chill, I know how to party.” Dustin checks his hair in the mirror, teasing a few curls to fall artfully into his face. Over his shoulder, he can see Steve doing the exact same thing, combing his hair to tousled perfection. Their eyes briefly meet, and Dustin gives Steve a shiteating grin. Steve just rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, parties in college frat houses and drinking in Atlanta dive bars that don’t check ID are a bit different than New York clubs, trust me.”
“Relax, Steve. I won’t do any drugs unless they’re the ones you and Robin brought with you,” Dustin says, finally repeating Steve’s mantra back to him. Robin dangles her little baggie of poppers happily.
Steve nods firmly, looking satisfied. “Right. Good.”
It’s Dustin’s twenty-first birthday, and to celebrate he is crashing with Robin and Steve at their Brooklyn apartment for a night of clubbing in the city. Steve had been ecstatic when Dustin proposed the visit– Steve had been offering their couch to Dustin ever since he and Robin had moved in together post Robin’s college graduation that summer.
Dustin does find it funny that Steve is acting oh-so knowledgeable about clubbing when Steve himself has spent less than a year in the city, but he lets it pass. He’s noticed that Steve has been acting particularly nervous ever since Dustin had arrived in town, eyes constantly darting away from him as though he’d been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Steve is hiding something, Dustin thinks to himself. But what?
Dustin doesn’t think it’s because he came out as gay to him last year. Steve was super cool and supportive about it, like Robin had said he would be. The only awkwardness had come when he asked Dustin who his Tammy Thompson was, and Dustin had spluttered at that, trying to figure out what he meant. “You know, who is the person you had a crush on that helped you figure out your whole ‘being gay’ thing?”
“Oh,” Dustin had said, nonplussed. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Uh, you.”
And Steve’s beer went through his nose as he snorted in surprise. It took him several moments to calm down, Dustin firmly patting him on the back at the Atlanta dive bar.
Steve had recovered with a weak joke and self-deprecating smile. “Well, I’m a total dud, Henderson. Good thing I’m straight, because you can do way better.”
And Dustin had let him get away with it, even though everything inside him wanted to argue that nope, Steve was it for him. No one was ever going to be better for him than Steve.
They’d changed the subject after that, and Dustin was relieved to know that Steve wasn’t going to treat him any differently. They could still be best friends.
“So should we do shots?” Dustin suggests. “Get a buzz going before we leave?”
Steve groans. “Dude, you are going to black out before we even head out the door.”
“I bet you can’t even keep up with me!” Dustin challenges, feeling a stupid giddiness in him as he sees Steve’s eyes glint at that.
“Oh, you really don’t want to make that bet, Henderson.”
“I do! I bet that former King Steve, keg-stand champ of Hawkins High, can’t keep up with Dustin Henderson, valedictorian and Hellfire nerd.”
“Ugh, no third person, please,” Robin groans. Nevertheless, she’s already pouring them all vodka shots. “Slainte, fuckos!”
--
As they head out of the building into the frigid New York night, lungs searing, Dustin is grateful for the warm liquor buzz he’s built up in the apartment. He leans in close to Steve’s side, using him as a windbreak as they battle their way toward the entrance to the subway two blocks away. To Dustin’s delight, Steve wraps his arm around Dustin’s shoulder and squeezes him closer.
Robin is the one who made their itinerary for the evening, so she takes the lead on guiding them to their first stop, a gay bar in Hell’s Kitchen. Will meets them there at the bar with a bright smile and a small crown handmade with a paper-mache and what looks like gold paint. “Happy birthday, Dustin!”
Dustin plops the crown atop his curls with a flourish, and Will bows goofily. Robin and Steve follow suit after Dustin raises his eyebrow at them demandingly.
“My liege,” Robin declares, bending to her knee.
“God, this is going straight to your head isn’t it?” Steve smirks, barely nodding his head at Dustin.
“If my loyal subjects do not pay all rightful homage, it shall be off with your head!” Dustin says in a faux British accent, gesturing wildly, and Steve mimes grabbing the crown from his head.
Dustin is overjoyed to see Will, and they immediately fall to gabbing about how college is going. Will compliments Dustin’s latest tattoo– a monstrous tentacle that curls around his left wrist and disappears up his shoulder into a giant squid that sits on his back, and they swap advice about maintaining their respective ear piercings. Steve settles to Dustin’s left and Robin to Will’s right, and the four of them have a great time throwing memories around and light jabs.
“So Steve, do you feel like the odd one out here?” Will calls to Steve lightly down the length of the bar. Dustin leans back against Steve, craning his neck to look at his face, which pulls into a comedic smile as he settles his face forward on his palms.
“Oh, Robin’s dragged me to plenty of gay bars at this point,” Steve smiles. “I’m used to it!”
“He just likes all the free drinks guys buy him,” Robin grouses.
“Hey, on my salary, I don’t say no to free!” Steve protests. He had gotten a job as a fitness instructor at a local gym, with a high school basketball coaching gig on the side. Robin made the “big bucks,” working as a translator for the local government. She got the bigger room in the apartment in exchange for paying a slightly higher percentage of rent.
After two rounds of cocktails, their small party is ready to move on to the next location. Dustin demands a final round of shots, which Robin and Will demure on. To his delight, he does successfully bully Steve into a tequila shot with him. “We did say round for round–” and they explode back out into the night arm in arm, wheeling loosely around the New York sidewalks with swimming heads and dopey smiles.
“These two are liabilities,” Robin says loudly to Will, who just laughs easily as they walk side by side ahead of Steve and Dustin.
“So Steve, I know you’re our token straight, but when you go to these clubs do you ever like, dance with any guys?” Dustin asks curiously, leaning against Steve’s shoulder conspiratorially. The liquor lowers his inhibitions just enough to make him a little handsy with Steve, sneaking his fingers to clutch at the sleeve of Steve’s coat.
“Guys dance with me, Henderson,” Steve clarifies, mouth close to Dustin’s ear. Dustin shivers at his warm breath tickling his hair.
“That’s literally the same thing!”
“There are fine distinctions,” Steve’s voice is somehow both prim and slurred, and Dustin giggles at his absurdity.
When they get to the club and leave their outer garments at coat check, Dustin’s breath catches a little in his throat at the sight of Steve in a silk button down that hugs his chest and waist. It’s not like the outfit is any surprise– he’d literally helped Steve pick it out– but something about the haze of alcohol and low lighting, combined with the way Steve lightly unbuttons the top few buttons before they head further into the club, makes Dustin feel something hot curl low in his core. Wispy tendrils of chest hair peak out over the low cut of Steve’s shirt, and Dustin can vividly imagine licking them.
Shit. He really can’t be thinking this way right now. The whole point of going to a gay bar is so Dustin can find someone he wants to hook up with that would theoretically ALSO want to hook up with him. Not Steve “the Straight” Harrington, his best friend.
Dustin shivers in his own club outfit– a sheer white button down over a black tanktop. He adjusts the birthday crown on his head and squares his shoulders as he faces the muted thumping of house music and dancing bodies in the next room.
“C’mon birthday boy, let me buy you a drink,” Steve pushes Dustin lightly in front of him, the music suddenly loud enough to drown out all of Dustin’s thoughts as they burst through beaded curtains onto the dance floor.
“No more shots, guys!” Robin admonishes over Steve’s shoulder.
Dustin whines, the pounding bass lines and strobing lights going straight to his already tipsy brain. “I don’t want to carry a drink around, I want to dance–”
“Shots it is, then!”
And before he knows it, he and Steve are pounding back another round of tequila shots while Will and Robin roll their eyes at them and nurse their beers. Dustin enjoys the floaty feeling of the booze coursing through him, and he whirls on his feet.
“Fuck yeah, let’s dance!”
Next thing he knows, Steve is pulling him onto the dance floor, fingers wrapping easily around Dustin’s wrist. Robin and Will follow close behind, and they form a small circle, moving their bodies to the rhythm. It’s a strange, intoxicating atmosphere, the music and lighting and crush of bodies doing something to Dustin’s already drunk brain. The dance floor pulses and flows with a tide of beautiful bodies showing more skin than Dustin’s ever seen before in his life.
Because Will is a cute twink, he quickly gets pulled into a circle of other cute twinks in body glitter. Dustin isn’t sure exactly how the other gays in the bar perceive him, but he does his best to project confidence as he watches Will dance with the other guys. After a bit, Will pulls Dustin over with him, and when Will shouts over the music that it’s Dustin’s birthday, he receives several sloppy kisses on the cheek and a baptism of glitter.
Okay, so that’s great, Dustin can dig it. But as the music continues to pulse, Dustin’s head is on a swivel as he tries to keep an eye on Steve. When he finally spies him, he realizes Steve is doing the same thing. Their eyes meet across the dance floor, Steve’s face changing colors with the strobe lights.
Dustin feels the sweaty bodies around him and tries to move in tandem with them, head bobbing to the anesthetizing beat, but his eyes never waver as Steve gazes at him. He feels like he’s in a dream. Suddenly, Robin pulls Steve away from a man trying to kiss Steve’s shoulder, and their eye contact breaks. Will grabs Dustin’s arm and tries to draw him tighter into the circle of young guys.
“Want to make out?” A cute blonde whispers against Dustin’s cheek as they dance together, and Dustin agrees with a shrug.
Their lips slide together, and Dustin can’t help but think about how much the guy tastes like cheap tequila. Sure, Dustin probably doesn’t taste any better– maybe it’s his own mouth he’s tasting?-- but he can’t seem to just let go and enjoy the kiss. When the blonde tries to slip his tongue into Dustin’s mouth, he pulls back.
“Sorry, I don’t–” –don’t want to do this right now, don’t want to kiss you when I want to be kissing someone else– He doesn’t say any of that thought, tongue feeling heavy in his head. He watches the other guy shrug and turn back to his friends.
Dustin desperately wants to get out of his own head, which is why he stumbles away looking for Robin, who is currently trying to grind on a hot butch with a nose piercing.
“Poppers?” Dustin shouts over the thrum of the music.
“Ask Steve!” Robin shouts back, gesturing vaguely at the dance floor.
Dustin whirls around, scanning the crowd again for Steve. He finds him in a corner, eyes closed and head thrown back as an older man with a mustache and bare chest dances behind him. Oh, son of a bitch.
He wades through the sea of dancers, feeling annoyingly sober all of a sudden. He needs to fix that.
“Hey, Steve?” Dustin grabs Steve by the front of his stupid flowery silk shirt and pulls him away from the guy currently hitting on him. The older man makes a face at Dustin but Dustin pays him no mind. “Steve, c’mon– are you trying to get a free drink right now or–”
“What?” Steve yells, leaning in close and trying to hear him over the music. A thin sheen of sweat glistens across Steve’s skin, his cheeks flushed under the strobe lights. “Everything okay, Dust?” His eyes catch on Dustin’s cheeks, and a dopey smile graces his lips. “Hey, you’re sparkly…”
Steve brushes his fingers down Dustin’s face, and Dustin wishes it didn’t make his stomach flip in excitement. When Steve pulls his hand back, it shimmers with streaks of glitter.
“Focus, Steve,” Dustin tries to enunciate his words over the pounding bass. He snaps his fingers near Steve’s face. “Do. You. Have. Poppers?”
Steve mouths the words after him, then his face brightens in understanding. “Oh yeah, sure! I already did some. Here you go, dude,” and he pulls out a small plastic bottle from his jean pocket.
“Motherfucker, we’re supposed to be going toe to toe tonight!” Dustin leans up into Steve’s ear to speak to him, and Steve’s arm slings easily around his waist to pull him closer. Dustin stumbles forward against him, feeling off balance. Steve is dancing with him, hips swaying gently as they talk. He gapes up at Steve, who just watches him with hooded eyes and an unreadable, though fond, expression.
“You having fun?” Steve asks over the music.
“Y-yeah–”
Steve holds the vial up under Dustin’s nose, never breaking eye contact. “Breathe deep.”
Dustin obeys.
It’s a head rush. He feels like he’s stood up too fast and goes a little lightheaded for a moment, wavering on his feet. The colors are all blurring and exploding together in his vision, so that the dance floor increases in impossible intensity. Steve holds him under his arms, pressing him close to his chest as Dustin finds his footing again. They sway together as a Whitney Houston DJ mix suddenly bursts like fireworks through Dustin’s neural pathways, firing off pleasure as he really feels the music in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before.
“Just lean into it,” Steve says into Dustin’s ear. “Let it carry you…”
“Do a hit, too,” Dustin insists, hearing the low whine in his voice and not caring. He paws at Steve’s chest, fingers catching and tugging at his buttons, popping a few more open. Steve doesn’t seem to mind in the heat and sweat of the club.“I need you with me.”
Steve complies, breathing in another hit of the vial and closing his eyes in ecstasy before capping it and tucking it back into his pocket.
Their pace quickens as they start to grind together, and for a moment Dustin isn’t sure where he ends and Steve begins. The rest of the club fades away and it's just them. Always has been.
When Steve leans down to kiss Dustin, it doesn’t even take him by surprise. It feels like the obvious next step of everything they’ve been doing together— everything that they are together. Dustin reaches up and loops his arms around the back of Steve’s neck, drawing him further down and deepening the kiss. He laps his tongue at the entrance to Steve’s mouth, and Steve opens for him. Warm, tender feelings pulse through Dustin as he licks into Steve, the heady rush of pleasure in his body focusing on the points of contact between the two of them.
As the dance floor pulses around them, Steve finally pulls away. Dustin sways, feeling suddenly unmoored without Steve’s lips, but a second later Steve is tugging him toward the edge of the dance floor, away from the crush of the crowd. He lets Dustin push him up against the wall and continue to plunder his mouth, soft gasps and moans traded between them as they grind against each other.
“I hated seeing that guy on you,” Dustin mumbles as he works his lips under Steve’s jawline, biting and kissing down his throat.
“Same,” Steve moans, fingers raking through Dustin’s hair. Dustin’s birthday crown is knocked askew, sitting tilted against the top of his head, but he doesn’t care. The sensation of Steve tugging at his curls sends shivers of pleasure through his body. “I didn’t want to ruin your birthday, but I was ready to fight that other guy.”
“Fuck,” Dustin groans, and he takes advantage of Steve’s half open shirt to bite down on Steve’s exposed collarbone. Steve moans, and Dustin licks a stripe down his chest, finally tasting the chest hair he’s been eying since they entered the club. As he kisses Steve, he leaves trails of glitter behind. Steve is shimmering in the strobe lights of the club, radiant and magical and everything Dustin’s ever wanted.
“Dustin,” Steve chokes around the words, eyes blown and breath ragged. “I don’t think… I’m the token straight.”
“Okay, Steve,” Dustin murmurs happily, leaning back up to kiss his glitter strewn lips. “Want to do drugs and fuck in the bathroom?”
Steve murmurs his happy assent into Dustin’s mouth. “Obviously.”