Chapter Text
The stale stench of piss and bleach pale beneath the heady wafts of smoke. A trail curls from Eddie’s lips as he lets out a weary sigh. The dreary restroom at the far edge of the school is a less than ideal spot for him to bunk off class, but at least it’s quiet. Just him and his muddled thoughts, an unwelcome companion. He takes another long drag from his cigarette and savours the bitter, earthy taste on his tongue. Despite the permanent lingering stink, this sure beats trawling through endless equations in math class. He’d kill for a cushion though. His porcelain throne isn’t the comfiest.
He picks absently at the corner of his scent patch, itching to peel it off, but pushes it back into place; he’d just have to replace it, and the things are damn expensive. He takes another puff of his cigarette to quell the urge to spread his pheromones and mark the dingy stall as his. Ridiculous alpha instincts.
Unconsciously, he takes another drag. He’s running on autopilot. Seeking some sort of comfort. He holds it in his lungs until his chest grows tight and his head a little fuzzy. There’s a sudden slam, the door to the restroom colliding with the wall. Eddie covers a choke as he stubs out his cigarette against the cubical wall and hoists his feet up onto the toilet lid. He’s not about to get caught flunking class. He’s already got enough detentions lined up.
“Shit, you gotta be kidding me. Shit.”
A student. Not a teacher. Unless it’s a teacher with a serious case of potty mouth.
He breathes a small, smoke-swirled sigh of relief.
“Fuck. Where are they?”
There’s rummaging, then a series of clatters and thumps.
“They have to be here—shit!”
He knows that voice. He’s shared classes with it. Heard it hurl insults like ‘freak’ at him in the bustling corridors between classes.
Steve Harrington.
But… that scent… it can’t be Steve. Though it’s brimming with distress there’s no denying that’s the scent of an omega. Everyone knows King Steve is an alpha. At least that’s the rumour that’s been floating around since Steve stepped back into Hawkins High on his first day of sophomore year with scent patches slapped over his glands. Star basketball player, obnoxious flirt, oozing with charm, and ridiculously self-assured. Those are all the hallmarks of an alpha—himself excluded—so why the hell does Steve Harrington smell like an omega?
Eddie’s nose has never failed him before, but now he’s seriously questioning whether the bleach fumes have got to his head. He leans closer, drawing in a slow breath through his nose. The scent is so strong he can taste it. Lavender and chamomile. Calming scents. Omegan. There’s no way. He leans closer to take another sniff, to check his nose isn’t tricking him, when his foot slips beneath him. He catches himself, but his sneaker hits the tiles with a resounding stomp and his hands slam against the stall walls so he doesn’t fall. Shit.
“Who’s there?” Steve snaps.
Double shit. No use hiding now.
Eddie slips his cigarette between his lips, hauls himself to his feet, and takes a deep breath. He’s not going to let the likes of Steve Harrington intimidate him. He slides across the lock and saunters out, gaze lowering to where Steve is sullying the knees of his too-tight jeans on the restroom tiles. A sight he makes, hair tousled and eyes wild. As Steve catches sight of him, his expression morphs from panicked to mortified.
“Munson?” Steve says gratingly. “What’re you doing in here?”
“I could ask you the same thing, Harrington,” Eddie replies, looming over him. “What is King Steve doing bunking off class?”
Steve scowls up at him. “I’m not bunking off, I—” He grits his teeth, sighs heavily, and returns to the mess he’s left strewn across the floor: books, pens, and…
“Is that hairspray?” Eddie asks with a derisive smirk, earning himself another glare.
“I don’t need this right now, freak,” Steve says. There’s no bite to it, only poorly masked panic. He’s lashing out.
Eddie steps back, giving Steve some space. He might be petty, but he’s not going to try to intimidate an agitated omega. He leans against the wall near the sinks, watching Steve push his stuff back and forth as if he’ll miraculously find something else hidden beneath it. His tuts and huffs grow more frustrated the longer he searches, and eventually it bleeds out in his scent. Eddie presses his knuckles to his nose to try and block the scent, but it’s cloying, so intense it sticks to the roof of his mouth. He plucks out his lighter and flicks at the spark wheel until a flame dances to life. The bitterness from the cigarette masks the sweetness of Steve’s scent and he finally feels like he can breathe again. He blows a plume of smoke out in front of him and as it dissipates he spots pretty hazel eyes glowering up at him.
“Lose something?” Eddie asks casually, cigarette wagging between his lips as he speaks.
Steve doesn’t answer. His hands move rapidly as he switches his search to his backpack. The stress is palpable in his scent. Eddie’s always been good at ignoring his alpha instincts, but even he’s helpless to them when faced with a distressed omega. He’s not a complete asshole. He crouches down and gathers up the scattered books, but Steve snatches them off him and stuffs them into his backpack.
“I don’t need your help,” he snaps.
Eddie stands, raising his hands in defence. “Suit yourself, Harrington.” He slings his own backpack over his shoulder, takes one last drag from his cigarette, and turns to leave.
“Wait,” Steve says, so pathetically that Eddie stops in his tracks. “I’m sorry, I—” A shaky breath fills the silence and Eddie turns back to look at him; a sorry sight he makes, hunched over on the filthy tiles. “I’m kinda freaking out right now.”
He should leave. Save himself from the awkwardness of holding a conversation with mega douche Steve Harrington. But Steve’s scent is keeping him rooted. Despite his better judgement, he wants to help. It’s not like Steve would ever do the same for him were the roles reversed, but he’s not Steve Harrington, he’s Eddie Munson, and he’s not one to turn his back on someone in need of help. Wayne raised him better than that.
“Is, uh, there anything I can do?” he asks.
“Scent patches,” Steve says hastily, raising his hand to his neck where his patches are peeling away from his glands. “Do you have spares? Mine are peeling off, and my scent…” he murmurs reluctantly, like he doesn’t want to acknowledge the undeniably omegan scent wafting off him. “I usually have spares in my bag but…”
“I put fresh ones on this morning. Didn’t bother to bring spares,” Eddie tells him, quashing what small semblance of hope still remains in Steve’s eyes.
He slumps, breaths hastening, unsteady. A wave of agitation washes over Eddie. He shouldn’t care, but his inner alpha is restless. It won’t settle until Steve is calm. Shit. There’s only one thing for it. He stubs out his cigarette again and peels back the corners of his own scent patches, already dog-eared from his earlier fiddling, and offers them to Steve.
“Here. They’ll still be plenty sticky. Should hold for the rest of the day at least.”
Steve’s gaze darts from the scent patches up to Eddie’s face and he watches him warily, like he’s searching for the punchline. He takes the patches even more hesitantly, as if Eddie will snatch them back.
“But you’ll get in trouble if you don’t have them on,” Steve says earnestly, and Eddie nearly laughs in his face.
He’s always in trouble for one thing or another; if it’s not for smoking on school premises, it’s for skipping class, forgetting homework, or being disruptive. Walking around with his pheromones wafting about is the least of his worries. Sure, he’ll get another detention when a teacher inevitably catches him without scent patches on. But it’s worth it so Steve can keep his secret. It’s the right thing to do.
“One more detention isn’t a biggie.” He shrugs. “And everyone already knows I’m an alpha.”
Sure, someone might make fun of his scent and call him a freak for walking around with his scent trailing brazenly behind him for everyone to smell, but it’s not a big deal. Not compared to Steve outing himself as an omega before he’s ready.
“Thanks, man,” Steve says, smiling softly up at him now that he’s realised Eddie isn’t playing some elaborate, spiteful prank.
He staggers to his feet and looks at himself, disheveled and flushed, in the mirror. He tears off his own useless patches and sets about plastering Eddie’s over his glands instead.
“You know, since you started wearing scent patches, everyone’s been saying you’re an alpha,” Eddie says casually, eager to fill the silence before it settles too thickly.
Steve shoots him a sidelong glance, slightly scathing. “Well, I’m not. Clearly,” he tuts as he makes sure the patches are securely in place.
“I just assumed—”
Steve huffs. “Yeah, well you know what they say about assuming.”
“Yeah, yeah. Ass. You. Me. I’m familiar,” murmurs Eddie.
Another long stretch of silence that Eddie’s itching to fill but thinks better of; he doesn’t want Steve to give him that same withering look. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.
“Everyone assumed. You, my friends, the rest of the damn school,” Steve says bitterly. He looks wrung out, drained, like he’s had this same conversation with himself hundreds of times. “All my life I’ve been told I’d be an alpha. It’s what was expected of me. So when that wasn’t the case I—” With a sigh, he braces himself against the sides of the sink, head lowered “—I hid it. When everyone saw the scent patches they assumed I’d presented as an alpha. It was easier to just go along with it instead of telling the truth.” He does glance at Eddie then, like he’s waiting for judgement. When it doesn’t come, he continues. “There’s no omeg… no one like me on the basketball team,” he says hesitantly, like saying the word omega aloud will leave a bad taste in his mouth. “None… aside from me. They’re mostly alphas, a few betas. If they found out what I really am…” His gaze drops and he catches his lower lip tightly between his teeth. “I don’t know what they’d do. I don’t want to be an outcast.”
“I’d say give your friends some credit, but I’ve seen firsthand what you do to those that aren’t like you,” Eddie says. “Some of us don’t need to be an—” But Eddie also stops himself from saying omega out of courtesy, “to be an outcast.” One pointed jab should be nothing compared to all the things he’s been called by Steve and his so called friends.
“I didn’t mean it like that, I—”
“I know what you meant, Harrington. Don’t suddenly pretend you give a shit about my feelings,” Eddie retorts sharply.
“I—” Steve stops himself short. His scent has faded now that it’s concealed beneath patches, but Eddie’s has risen to take its place. Steve’s brow creases and nostrils flare. “You smell…”
What kind of a thank you is that?!
“You’re the one that stunk out the whole restroom! If my scent bothers you that much, give ‘em back.” Eddie holds out his hand half-heartedly for the scent patches. He’s not serious. But seriously, have Steve’s parents taught him no manners? Or does he just think he’s above all that? He always acts like the world owes him some great favour for simply existing. “Wouldn’t want to offend your sensitive nose, princess.”
“I meant your scent is nice, Munson. Geez, let a guy finish his thought, why don’t you?” Steve retorts.
Eddie can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You think my scent is nice?”
“Yeah, I—” Steve’s nostrils flare again as he looks at Eddie. Really looks at him. It’s not just a passing glance. There’s an intensity to it that turns Eddie to stone. When he finally looks away, Eddie misses the weight of those pretty hazel eyes. “I should really get back to class.” He hikes his backpack onto his shoulder and brushes past Eddie to get to the door. But he hesitates and glances back over his shoulder. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Eddie raises his lighter and flicks the wheel. “Who am I gonna tell?”
The flame flickers to life, but before it can catch alight on the singed tip of his cigarette, Steve grabs his wrist.
“Eddie,” he says with a slight whine that catches Eddie completely off guard. Steve’s features are soft, imploring. There’s no doubt about it, Steve Harrington is begging him not to expose his deepest secret. He never thought he’d see the day. He could be cruel, he could use this to his advantage, but…
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he says.
“Thank you,” Steve says, blessing him with a sweet smile. “I owe you one.”
His fingers slip slowly from around Eddie’s wrist, a warmth left in their wake, then he hurries from the restroom. In the sudden silence, Eddie’s thoughts run rampant. He attempts to parse through them, but the harder he tries the worse his head throbs.
“Steve fucking Harrington,” he murmurs, shaking his head.
He relights his cigarette once more to stave off the sudden, strange feelings swirling to every corner of his mind. But even the nicotine and tobacco can’t wipe Steve Harrington’s pretty eyes from his memory. He catches sight of himself in the mirror, the long hair and the leather. Then he thinks of Steve: tight jeans; styled hairstyle; nice car; girls fawning over him left, right, and center. They’re from different worlds. But Steve offered him a glimpse of what his world is really like: expectations, pressure, conformity. If you don’t conform you’ll be cast aside. Steve isn’t a king, he’s a prisoner.
That’s not the kind of world Eddie has ever wanted any part in, nor will it ever be. But part of him hopes their orbits will overlap again.
What a fucking mess.
“Don’t even think about it, Munson. He’s way out of your league.”