Chapter Text
How Steve managed to find himself in the parking lot of The Palace Arcade, he’ll never know.
Well... That’s not entirely true. He knew exactly how he got there, it was all Robin’s fault.
When Steve showed up disheveled and grumpy as all-get-out after spending the night at Eddie’s, Robin kept prodding him throughout his shift to “spill the details” about their interaction.
“I don’t know what you want me to say Rob- we smoked, ditched the movie, he gave me a tarot card reading, and we went to bed. That’s it.” Steve glared at Robin as a customer came through the door, shooing her off toward the unfortunate soul and basking in the moment of solitude.
The peace was brief, Robin rounded the corner of the aisle closest to Steve and whispered, “Tarot card reading? What was it about? What did he say?”
Steve’s lips pressed into a fine line, a hand motioning a key locking the corner of his mouth, the other flipping the page of some random Tiger Beat magazine, “Man we really need to branch out, how many times do I have to read about Scott Baio-”
“Don’t you dare try and change the subject on me Steve,” Robin hissed, loud enough for the customer near the front of the store to look up in confusion. Robin turned and smiled, giving a small wave to deflect the pair of eyes elsewhere before returning to Steve, “You’re seriously not going to tell me?” She popped a hip, arms crossed with a frown, “Your best friend. Your *only* friend. The one who has, will, and would share all of her confidential secrets with you?” Robin leaned in closer, whispering, “The one who, for god sake, almost died with you? *Twice?*”
Steve scratched the back of his neck, “You make a point Rob. But, I don’t know… I just don’t want the universe to, like, double back and fuck me over again if I tell anyone. Like how you’re not supposed to say what you wished for when you blow out birthday candles.” His hand fell to his side, “Munson said that things might be looking up. I’m just trying to hold onto that as much as I can.”
Robin rolled her eyes, “Fine. Fine! you fucking sap.”
She paused, chewing her lip as she squinted at him in sudden thought, “You know, I was gonna invite you to third-wheel me and Vickie at The Palace on Saturday, but with this cold shoulder you’ve given me today I guess I’ll invite Eddie instead.” A manic look spread across her face, the corners of her mouth creasing as she stopped Steve from flipping another page, “You know Eddie’d tell me everything that happened if I asked him to right?”
Steve folded quickly after that, not wanting to risk Robin running her mouth, or Eddie’s for that matter.
He would spend the rest of the week complaining to Robin about the whole affair until the weekend came, not so much picking her up as dragging away Robin from her twenty-minute soliloquy on how hopeless her wardrobe choices were.
“Robin, honey, as entertaining as it is watching you freak over impressing this girl- it doesn’t matter! You look cute as you are, Vickie’s not going to analyze your outfit like some pretentious dipshit from the city.” Steve stood at the doorway, staring at the post-apocalyptic state of Robin’s bedroom.
Robin groaned, looking at the mirror that hung from inside her closet door, “You don’t know that!”
“She’s a band geek!” Steve knocked on the doorframe before walking down the hall, shaking the keys in his hand for emphasis, “Now get in the car before I make both of y’all walk.”
Picking up Vickie was an easier ordeal, all the bickering between Steve and Robin dissipating as soon as she slid into the backseat, “Hey, thanks for the ride.”
Steve looked into the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the driveway, “No problem Vick, it’s not like Robin can drive anyway.”
Robin slapped Steve’s shoulder, “I told you I was working on it!” She turned back to Vickie, “I swear I’m working on it, it’s just a little nerve-wracking with all the buttons and stuff- and I have like really bad spatial awareness so I don’t know how or when to stop to not hit cars or like people-”
Steve turned the radio up as he drove to The Palace on the other side of town, blasting whatever the Hot 100 had to offer on his usual station.
“Did you know the name Amadeus means ‘lover of god’ in Latin?” Vickie piped up the moment Steve turned off the car.
Robin couldn’t hide her wide smile as she stepped out of the car, “You know Latin? I only know Pig Latin, well, not just Pig Latin, actually a couple of other languages-”
Steve, opening the door to the arcade, intervened, “Ladies, this is riveting and all, but why don’t you take it inside and start cashing in for quarters. I’ll wait out here to see if Eddie's a no-show.”
Vickie snickered as she looked to Robin, who was glaring daggers back at Steve before she reluctantly made her way inside, Vickie following closely behind. Steve mouthed “You’re welcome~” as Robin passed, and wooosh of the door capping the sounds of laughter behind him.
Steve sighed, moving away from the entrance and into the shadows between his car and the wall. He pulled out his pack of Marlboros and slipped a cigarette into the corner of his mouth. He fumbled around his pockets for a lighter, a sense of complete dread washing over him as he checked and re-checked every possible resting place of his bic, “You’ve got to be shitting me-“
“Harrington smoking a cigarette? Birdie’s gonna have fucking cow!”
The cigarette fell out of Steve’s mouth and landed next to a pair of shiny black boots. His eyes trailed upward, black jeans, chains, shiny belt buckle, an infinity loop, no, handcuffs? A mental checklist Steve didn’t know he had marked all the boxes, landing on Eddie Munson’s face. Bangs dusted his forehead and dropped down longer pieces around the sides of his face. The rest of his hair, however, was absent from his shoulders, leaving his neck exposed to the fluorescent hues of The Palace’s neon signs.
“Woah, did you cut your hair?”
Eddie’s cocked his head to one side, “What? No,” he ducked down to grab the cigarette on the ground, revealing the ponytail that held the rest of his hair, “I was just.. running a couple errands before heading over here.” He gently unbent the cigarette before handing it back to Steve, who took it subconsciously, his eyes still taking in Eddie’s updo.
After a far too long pause, Steve came back to earth to the sound of Eddie’s lighter clicking, Eddie puffing on his own cigarette. Not his own though, as he looked down to see Eddie had pickpocketed a cigarette from Steve’s carton while his mind was...
“You bitch- you know you could’ve just asked?” Steve gave him a look, despite being slightly grateful that Eddie didn’t ask about Steve’s lackluster social presence. That’s the thing, spend enough time on the verge of death together and the nuances of human interaction seem pointless. Yet, as Eddie carefully lit the end of Steve’s cigarette for him, he couldn’t help but suck in a deep breath in their close proximity. The wave of nicotine hit him, the burn in the back of his throat, causing his vision to fray at the edges.
“Been needing a smoke huh? Birdie’s probably the only one holding you back from chain-smoking that whole pack,” Eddie tutted, “Poor thing.”
Steve sputtered out a long plume of smoke, his shaky hand plucking out the cigarette as he flicked its ashes towards the ground, “Fuck off Munson, you’re more addicted than I am. Robin wouldn’t stop talking about how hurt you looked when she snatched your pack in the boat. Recounting every damn detail of it even when I was getting my stomach chewed out by Demobats.” Steve motioned to his right hip, “Love her to pieces, but after what the two of us have been through… The least we deserve is a little cigarette now and then.”
Eddie nodded solemnly, “I’ve tried explaining it to her, but it’s just not getting through. And I’m still pissed that the bats fucked up my best tattoo, I had to sell a couple pounds to go up to Indy and get the piece done, and whoop-de-do! I have a mauled Tim Curry on my ribcage and I my ribs are fucked.”
Steve let the cigarette butt fall to the ground before stomping it out, his eyebrows angled up with curiosity, “Tim Curry?”
Eddie waved his hand dismissively, “It’s a long story. Maybe Birdie will tell ya ‘bout it. Speaking of Miss Buckley, we should probably head in, have you ever played Punch-Out?”
As soon as Steve stepped into The Palace, he knew it was going to be a long night. Not only did he know nothing about the game cabinets that lined the walls, but the barrage of flashing lights and sounds had his head reeling hard to keep it all from swallowing him whole. He blindly followed Eddie to meet the girls who were already playing Dragon’s Lair, Robin swearing under her breath as she smacked the joystick back and forth.
Eddie chucked quietly, nodding to Vickie in a silent hello as to not distract Robin. It didn’t take long for her to die though, kicking the bottom of the cabinet and grumbling as she turned around, “It’s rigged.”
Steve gave her a weak smile, “Dustin wouldn’t shut the fuck up about this game a couple of years ago. Said the exact same thing after I picked him up one time. Well, that along with a five-minute tantrum.”
Robin didn’t respond to his anecdote, rather she leaned in toward Steve, and scrunched her nose, “Did you smoke a cigarette? Steve. You know how I feel about cigarettes! That shit will literally collapse your lungs and apparently you don’t care about keeping yourself safe-“
Before Steve could even think of an excuse, Eddie piped up, “Robin, Robin, he didn’t smoke. He kept me company while I had one.” Eddie slapped Steve’s back, chuckling a bit, “Besides, he wouldn’t put his mouth on anything besides a girl or a bottle, right Stevie boy?”
Robin’s face twisted with disgust, a polarizing opposite of Vickie, who stifled a laugh behind her hand, “Ew! Ew, I didn’t sign up to hear any of that. I’m gonna leave before I vomit, Vickie?” She gives one last piercing glance at Steve before delving deeper into the arcade, and Steve knows she’s bound to interrogate him more the next shift they have together.
“And who said chivalry was dead?” Eddie quipped, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he looked at Steve, though it faltered after a beat of silence, “Come on, don’t I get a thank you?”
It was like his neck was on fire. Maybe it was just the lights getting to him, or the adrenaline from almost getting caught by Robin, and with the way Eddie’s hand was still splayed across the nape of his neck, Steve’s focus had been shot. He managed to stutter out a thank you, keeping his eyes low to avoid flashes of light.
Steve could have kicked himself for how pathetic he felt as he followed Eddie around the arcade, eyes plastered to Eddie’s sneakers as they dodged kids running around the cabinets. They stopped at DigDug to admire Max’s top score, unbeatable despite how much time had passed since she first moved into Hawkins. It made Steve feel better, to see the kids he cared about so much leave an impact on their surroundings. One that they could praise openly to all who’ll listen instead of the silent understanding they have all grown accustomed to because of the Upside Down.
Steve made it to Punch Out, just barely looking at the screen as Eddie not-so-humbly shows off. He was leaning on the corner of the machine, pretending to watch as the pixels cast their bright light onto Eddie’s shirt and jacket. Smooth black leather, blurring the light into some untamed aurora borealis.
Something caught Steve’s eye though when Eddie raised his arm to prop himself on the Punch Out nameplate. Tucked into the large pocket on the inside of his jacket was a magazine. Steve struggled to focus his eyes beyond the light while trying to avoid Eddie’s gaze.
Blueboy, the national magazine about men? It’s a very handsome man, Steve gives him that, flexing large arms, maybe it was a confidence magazine?
Eddie groans louder, moving around more as the game increases in difficulty. He starts missing punches, holding his breath, and getting red in the face. “Come on, don’t do this- Fuck, move!” He whines, “God damn it.”
Steve is staring at the man in Eddie’s pocket. It clicked just like that, something about Eddie’s voice and the mustached, well-oiled man made Steve’s stomach drop.
Eddie likes men. Not just like men, but if those pages are anything like Steve’s collection of Playboy, he gets turned on by men.
Eddie's head flies back as he crumbles in defeat, the mystery magazine disappearing from Steve’s view, leaving him with the guilt that he saw something he definitely shouldn’t have.
More than anything, Steve had questions. How long has Eddie known? Where does he get the magazines? Who else knows? Is that why he was always tense around Tommy or Billy? They were bloodhounds for anyone who isn’t “normal” like they were… God the venom he once spat.
Clenching his jaw, Steve drove the thought away. None of that shit anymore, not that he could tell that to Eddie’s face. He was just gonna pretend like he didn’t see anything until Eddie brought it up himself.
“Do you want to play something?” Eddie’s voice broke through the veil cast over Steve’s eyes, “You seem kinda zoned dude, we gotta get your energy up.”
Steve shakes his shoulders and cracks his neck, giving his eyes a moment of rest before refocusing on Eddie, plastering on a competitive smile, “Yeah, you’re right. I was just imagining what it would look like when I beat your ass at air hockey.”
“You wanna bet on that Harrington?” Eddie puffs up his chest, eyes flaring at the challenge, his signature smile to match.
Steve grabbed Eddie’s shoulder with a firm hand, standing so Steve’s mouth was not too close to Eddie’s ear, but just enough to mutter, “Two packs of cigarettes, winner’s choice,” lowly before walking away towards the hockey table across the other side of the building.
As Steve shoved his hand down his jacket pocket to fish for quarters, he began to settle himself into a competitive mind state. That can ground him surely. He popped 50 cents into the slot on the side of the table, rumbling to life with a whir.
“You’re going down, Stevie boy,” Eddie snarked as he picked up the mallet opposite of Steve, a similar Hellfire red.
“Whatever you say Munson,” Steve smirked as he picked up the neon orange puck, blue mallet in his dominant hand, setting the puck into the arena, the faintest feeling of air glossing over his fingers, before immediately striking the puck with his mallet, sending it skidding over to Eddie’s side in a flash of orange.
Steve’s move had frazzled Eddie, who almost jumped at Steve’s play before hitting the puck back with his own mallet, “Oh it’s so on!”
Four points are split evenly between the two, Steve winning the first goal after Eddie guarded his left side more than his right, groaning with displeasure as Steve reset the puck. Eddie responded with a goal after Steve failed to counter a zig-zag slide across the table, to which he quickly reacted by shooting a straight shot for Eddie’s goal while he was distracted by Robin and Vickie saddling up to their table behind Eddie.
“Having fun girls?” Steve stifles a laugh as Eddie gaped at the score beaming in transparent blue above the table.
The girls nodded happily, Vickie confessing, “We learned we suck at arcade games, but it was still fun!”
“Not as much fun as you guys, clearly,” Robin looked bewildered at the state of the boys, “We just played Miss Pac-Man and Skee Ball!”
Vickie giggled into Robin’s shoulder, which Steve could clearly see Robin spark up in nervous delight.
Steve’s grin only widened, ‘God that’s so sweet’ he thought.
Eddie slammed the puck back down at the sound of the buzzer indicating 30 seconds remaining, “Alright, It’s either two points or nothing.”
“Let’s see you try,” Steve chided, hunkering himself back into the game. He wanted those damn Marlboros.
Eddie tried his damndest to play offensively to earn his points quickly, an eagerness that Steve exploited in snap shot counters that would cause Eddie to jump.
A 3rd point scored for Steve.
“Fuck!” Eddie gritted under his breath, a bit loud for a public establishment but just muttered enough to prick Steve’s senses back to the magazine tucked in that leather jacket of his, a secret he now had to keep.
“Last chance for a tie Munson~” Steve sang, “10 seconds.”
Eddie plays the puck on the field, and it’s all too simple for Steve. He fakes him out, lurching his upper body over half the table to send the puck spiraling out of the table and clattering onto the floor.
“That’s so unfair!” Eddie exclaims as he chased the puck down, slotting it back into the table as the air turned off, “I didn’t even get the chance!”
“No Lucky Strikes for you Sir.” Steve popped the collar of his shirt for a second, before joining the girls on the other side of the table, fake combing his hair.
Robin brushed his inflated ego off with a wave of her hand, the reference thankfully going over her head by the entire Steve realized his slip, “Alright air hockey freaks, are we done here?”
Eddie rolled his eyes at Steve with a smirk still sitting promptly on his face, “I believe so Birdie, shall I be seeing you off?”
“All of us, actually,” Steve jingled his car keys, and could have sworn he saw a flash of disappointment cross Eddie’s face before Robin gestured towards the entrance, “Lead the way Eddie.”
Eddie holds the door for everyone as they enter the parking lot, but catches Steve’s arm before he passes, “Nice win Stevie,” His round eyes glancing away, “Can you give me a couple days and I’ll get your pacs?”
Steve shook his head, “Don’t worry about it.”
“You won though,” Eddie’s eyes look back to Steve so earnestly, yet an expression that he can’t read, “I keep my word.”
Steve flexes his arm out of Eddie’s grip before slipping out the door of the Arcade.
“You know where I work Munson!” Steve trailed off, face still hot while cracking open the driver seat door to his car before slipping inside, Robin and Vickie chattering in the back.
Steve could feel the joy radiating off of Robin as he carted the two of them back to Robin’s house, a delightful thought until Steve remembered the mess Robin made before leaving for the date. He laughed to himself as he watched them walk up the driveway, maybe Vickie would find it cute or they could bond picking up the laundry. Who knows where the night will take them.
Driving silently back to the empty house Steve had to call a home, he couldn’t help but try to revisualize that Blueboy cover, the memory already blurry in his mind’s eye. He wondered if by the time Eddie did come around with his bounty, if he would already have a new issue stowed close to his chest.
This would be a thought that would fester in Steve’s brain for over three weeks.