Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eddie supposes that you tend to form some sort of attachment to the person who saves your life. When you owe your life to someone, It’s hard not to develop some kind of connection to them. Even if it’s one sided.

So after Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington dragged his unconscious body, his dying body, away from them demobats, well, the dead bodies of demobats, and back to his trailer, well, the version of his trailer in the upside down, and proceeded to throw him over his shoulders and climb back up, and then down, that makeshift rope, and back to the over-world, to safety, while the others shouted urgently, there was no surprise that Eddie felt something about that.

That after he was told that king Steve was the one to rush to his side after Henderson had gone screaming for help, when the others where scrambling back to the over-world, and he was told that Steve had carried him to the back of his car, and Dustin had sat next to him crying (although Henderson claims that wasn’t true and Steve must have ‘imagined it’,) and the king of Hawkins High drove him to the hospital, not listening to the others concerns about ‘revealing the upside down’ or ‘demobat rabies’, Eddies heart stuttered a little in his chest.

It had been about three weeks since they had collectively defeated Vecna, since they had closed the upside down away for good (they hoped), and since Steve Harrington had saved Eddie ‘the freak’ Munsons life.

And since then, Eddie had turned up at Family Video almost every time Steve had a shift. Well, since he got out of hospital. Steve hadn’t visited him in hospital. Henderson passed on messages between them, but Dustin had very little to say in regards of what Steve talked about Eddie.

Eddie didn’t take it personally.

But he couldn’t help sitting on the counter of Family Video, talking animatedly more at Steve than to him, as he shuffled through different movies. Steve would just roll his eyes or give an exasperated sigh, but every now and then Eddie would be able to coax out a reluctant grin, and he would grin back victoriously.

He wouldn’t say they were exactly ‘friends’. He was pretty sure Harrington barely enjoyed his presence. If anything, he always seemed slightly irritated by him. But then again, Steve usually seemed slightly irritated by anything that wasn’t a pretty girl.
Still, it would be weird for them to be friends, right? Just because they went through hell and back, literally, together, they were back in the real world now. They were the king and the freak. The golden boy, and the suspected murderer.

No one expected them to be friends. But Eddie can’t just… leave him alone. Not after he saved his life. Not after Steve had looked at him like that in the upside down. Like he was actually interested in what Eddie had to say, like Eddie was someone he cares about in some way, even if it was just because Henderson liked him, but Steve looked at him like he wasn’t just some freak. Like he wasn’t disgusted to be in his presence.

Like he wasn’t the fag Steve had called him in junior year. When Steve hung out with Tommy and Carol and those douchebags, when Steve was untouchable and above them all and Eddie was the pathetic loser with a buzzcut and played guitar in a garage band. When Steve was admired and every girl in the year had a crush on him (minus Robin), and Eddie had to change for Gym in a toilet cubical or he’d get called slurs and be accused of ‘getting off’ to the guys changing in the locker room.

Eddie used to hate the guy. It wasn’t from jealousy, it wasn’t because Steve had something he didn’t, it was because Steve Harrington was a grade A asshole. A fucking jerk. He didn’t beat anyone up or relentlessly bully, but he’d sit there grinning as his friends did. On occasion, he would say something cruel, even throw out a slur, but it never sounded like it did when Tommy H did. It was more muttered, with a grim look on his face. Eddie still wanted to see the guy get beaten up. He smiled when he heard that Jonathan Byers had in senior year.

But now? Now Steve Harrington was the guy who saved his life, when the rest left him for dead. They thought he was dead, when Steve dragged him from the upside down. Still, even the fact that Steve and Dustin risked it all to go back for his body meant everything to him.

Steve Harrington was the guy who would take a bullet for Dustin Henderson. All of the kids. He was the guy who cared enough to stay with them throughout all the bullshit they went through. The guy who beat up a guy to protect them, who jumped into the upside down for them, who swung his nail studded bat at creatures he’d never seen before without hesitation for them. Steve was the guy who cared enough to protect his ex girlfriend and her new boyfriend.

Steve was the guy who came with them to help Eddie, probably knowing Eddie hated him. Knowing that he would’ve happily shoved that broken bottle into Steves throat without question, he was already suspected for murder anyway, what’s it matter if he committed a real one.

Steve was brave, and kind, and caring. Steve was everything he wasn’t in high-school.
Eddie respected him for that. Even admired him a little.

He definitely admired him when he fought off demobats with such ferocity, when he used his teeth to tear one apart. When he took his shirt off and dove into the water because he knew he had to.
Maybe it was a mix of that strange admiration and the debt of his life that made Eddie keep hanging around.

“You’ve never seen Friday the 13th?” Eddie asks with shock written into his expression. Steve just glanced up at him from whatever he was pretending to do on the Family Video stores real slow cash register.

“Do you plan on acting surprised with every horror movie i’ve never seen?” He asks back dryly, and Eddie steps forward, dropping the tape on the counter.

“But this, Harrington, has revolutionised slasher horror as we know it. Everyone’s seen it.” Eddie says dramatically, leaning in, trying to get Steves full attention.

Steve just rolls his eyes.

“I haven’t.”

Eddie clicks his tongue and shakes his head.
“You’re a disappointment, King Steve.” He sighs, and Steve shoots him a glare for the nickname, which makes Eddie grin.

“Thought you’d be put off horror movies after literally living one.” Steve says lowly, almost to himself, and Eddie laughs.

“Thought i’d be put off selling drugs as well after the last girl I sold to got her neck snapped in mid air, but a guys gotta make money somehow.” He says casually with a shrug, and Steve gives him this exasperated look.

“Don’t go saying shit like that when theres customers.” Steve says, before turning back to pretending to do anything other than paying attention to Eddie.

“Relax, I wouldn’t. I can control my mouth, Harrington.” Eddie grins, stepping backwards and swiping the tape off the counter. “Besides, this place is as dry as a desert on a Tuesday.”

“That’s cus you scare them off.” Steve grumbles.
Eddie slides the tape back into its rightful place in the horror section.

“What, you think people see me in here and don’t fancy gettin’ killed?” He grins.

“No,” Steve replies, voice picking up so Eddie can actually hear him across the store. “Scared they might accidentally lose their wallets in your hair.”
Eddie snorts, running his finger along the horror tapes.

“I’ll have you know I take the upmost care of my hair.” He says mockingly, looking over to see Steve raise a brow at him.

“Yeah? You make it look like a birds nest on purpose?” He says dryly, but Eddie can see he’s fighting a grin.

“It’s called style, Stevie. You should know.” Eddie says smoothly as he steps backwards towards the counter.

“Would you two stop bickering?” Robin bites as she steps out of the back room with a small cardboard box filled to the brim with tapes she’s spent the last 45 minutes rewinding. “You’re annoying me already.”
Steve sighs.

“You’re telling me.” He mutters, but Eddie just grins.

“You saying you don’t enjoy my gracious presence, Robbie?” Eddie teases, tilting his head as he leans his arms on the counter. Robin shoots him a look as she rifles through the tapes.

“Don’t mind it so much when you actually come in to buy something, and not just flirt.” She shoots, grinning at the end. Steve scoffs.

“Oh, if I was flirting, you’d know, sweetheart.” Eddie smirks, taking a glance at Steve, who is actually looking at him with narrowed eyes. “This is just me hanging out with my two favourite minimum wage employees.”

Robin huffs a laugh with a stack of rom-coms in her hands, and she rounds the counter, walking towards the romantic comedy section of the store.

“Yeah, well maybe you should consider getting yourself a job instead of just annoying us at ours.” Robin grins, and Steve laughs as he starts organising the tapes out the box.

“I do have a job,” Eddie says, matter of factly. “It’s called being cool. You should try it.”
Steve barks a laugh.

“It’s called being a drug dealer, Munson.” He says smirking.

“It’s called being unemployed.” Robin adds, and they look at each other with a grin.

Eddie mocks offence, bringing a hand to his heart.
“You two are cruel.” He says with fake hurt plastered on his face.

“And you keep coming back.” Robin says, grinning at him over her shoulder.

And he did.

Eddie kept going back.

——

The classroom is mostly empty, save for the clutter of dice, notebooks, empty soda cans, and one black-painted table where Eddie Munson is crouched, dramatically arranging miniature figurines with the care of a man setting sacred relics on an altar.

“Henderson,” Eddie calls over his shoulder, holding up a twisted plastic goblin with a chipped axe. “Is this the one that melted in Lucas’ backpack or the one Mike gave a mohawk with a Sharpie?”

Dustin, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside a battered tackle box full of dice, squints. “Mohawk. The melted one is the guy with no foot.”

“Right.” Eddie places the figurine squarely at the head of a plastic tree. “He dies first.”

“Unfair.”

“Consequences of bad hair choices,” Eddie says solemnly, but there’s a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Dustin rolls his eyes, then flips open a worn campaign notebook. “So are you really throwing them into the cursed mirror dimension tonight, or is that just another one of your fakeouts?”

“Oh, it’s real,” Eddie says, voice lowering like a campfire storyteller. “And it’s cursed. Real cursed. Like…‘Steve Harrington’s dating history’ cursed.”

Dustin snorts. “He’s not that bad.”

Eddie shrugs, a grin still on his face, but his hand stills over the little wooden castle he’s setting up. He doesn’t say anything right away. And when he does, he keeps his eyes on the table.

“Nah, he’s not.”

Dustin doesn’t notice the pause. “I’m totally gonna make him host Hellfire once you graduate. Just, like, barge into his house and set up dice on his kitchen table.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh yeah? Gonna turn King Steve’s bachelor pad into nerd central?”

“Yep,” Dustin says proudly. “He owes me. I’ll tell him it’s a public service.”

Eddie chuckles, flicking a die toward Dustin’s pile.

“You think he’ll survive that? I bet he gets one look at the rulebooks and spontaneously combusts.”

“You like him now,” Dustin says offhandedly, not looking up from his notes.

Eddie blinks.

“What?”

“I said you like him now,” Dustin repeats, with the same tone one might use to state that grass is green. “Before, you used to groan every time I brought him up. Now you don’t even make that weird hissing noise.”

“I never hissed,” Eddie mutters, definitely lying.

Dustin smirks. “You kinda did.”

Eddie fidgets with a dice tower, straightening it even though it’s perfectly fine. “He dragged my half-dead ass out of a murder dimension. I’m sorta obligated to not hate him anymore.”

“Uh-huh,” Dustin says, smug.

Eddie tries very hard not to smile. Fails.

“I mean,” he says, too casually, “once Will takes over as Dungeon Master next year, Steve’ll probably be too busy with, I dunno, whatever Steve Harrington does with his free time. Haircare rituals. Babysitting you weirdos.”

“Don’t worry,” Dustin says brightly. “I’ll tell him to keep a seat open for you.”

Eddie tosses a die at his head. “Nerd.”

Dustin grins. “Takes one to know one.”

And across the table, Eddie, his heart doing that stupid flutter thing it’s been doing lately, smiles quietly to himself.

The classroom was dark, curtains drawn, and a dusty lamp switched on, casting dim light across the desks pushed together to form Hellfire’s final battlefield.

Eddie Munson stood behind his Dungeon Master screen like a rock star at the edge of the stage, voice low and dramatic as he leaned into the climax of the campaign. Around him, the Hellfire Club was on edge, Dustin gripping his pencil like a sword, Mike practically kneeling on his chair, Erica whispering threats at her d20.

“And as the portal begins to close behind you,” Eddie intoned, fingers steepled beneath his chin, “the Lich King’s scream echoes through the crumbling halls of the obsidian citadel. You have defeated him. You saved the realm.”

Silence.

Then-shouts. Cheers. Dice flying. Fist pumps. Erica yelling, “I told you not to split the party!” Mike slamming his hands on the table in victory. Dustin nearly knocking over a can of soda as he leaned into Eddie with a grin that was just a little too emotional for a game.

Eddie threw his hands up, laughing. “Hellfire lives another day, freaks!”

It felt good. Too good. Like he could bottle this moment and carry it with him for the rest of his life.
They began collecting dice and papers, energy buzzing with post-campaign adrenaline, but none of them moved too quickly. No one wanted it to end just yet.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Lucas said, quieter than the others.

“It’s not over,” Mike insisted. “We’ll still play.”

“Just… not here,” Dustin added, softer.

There was a pause.

Eddie leaned on the table, watching them. His kids. His chaos crew.

“Yeah, well,” he said with a mock-serious sigh, “I’m leaving you in Will’s capable hands. He’s already got a whole folder of ideas that scare even me, so you’re in for it.”

“We’re gonna have to find a new hideout,” Erica said, already plotting. “The basement of the library’s empty after four.”

“Or Steve’s house,” Dustin offered, grinning. “I told you he’s gonna host Hellfire one day.”

“Right, right,” Eddie said with a smirk, but something warm settled in his chest at the idea. “Let me know if King Steve survives you all raiding his fridge.”

There was laughter, but quieter this time. More fond.
Mike turned to Eddie, suddenly earnest.

“This campaign was epic, man. I mean it. Best one yet.”

Eddie tilted his head, his usual dramatic edge softening. “Thanks, Wheeler.”

Then Dustin, ever the glue, stood up and raised his soda can like a toast.

“To the final Hellfire campaign at Hawkins High. And to Eddie Munson, the best damn Dungeon Master this school’s ever seen.”

They all echoed it. Even Erica, begrudgingly.
Eddie looked away for a second, blinking harder than he meant to.

“You guys are gonna make me cry in my Dio shirt,” he muttered.

They laughed again, and the room filled with something deep and unspoken- gratitude, nostalgia, a little ache for the things they’d outgrow but never forget.

The classroom door creaked open as the last echoes of laughter and dice rolls faded. Hellfire was packing up, papers stuffed into folders, dice rolling across desks, chairs scraping against the floor. It was a mess of post-game buzz and quiet melancholy.
Eddie zipped his binder closed, tucking his DM screen under one arm.

“Alright, freaks. Get lost before the janitor throws us out.”

Dustin lingered, of course. He always did. “You coming next week?” he asked, hopeful, even though he already knew the answer.

Eddie ruffled the kid’s curls, grinning. “Nah, man. I’ll be too busy with the glamorous life of a high school graduate. You know—beer, tattoos, world domination.”

Dustin made a face. “You hate beer.”

“Details.”

Just then, wheels clattered against the hallway tile. Max rounded the corner on her board, skidding to a lazy stop with her backpack slung over one shoulder.

“There you are,” she said. “You nerds done playing fairy games?”

“It’s fantasy combat storytelling,” Dustin corrected.

“Sure it is.”

They walked down the hall towards the front doors of the school, Mike and Will disappearing down the opposite end of the hall, and Lucas turning to follow, but looking back at Max.

Max turns and meets his eye, and Lucas smiles and offers a small wave, and Max just fights a grin and shakes her head, before turning back around.
Gareth and Jeff had stalked off somewhere, and Eddie, Max and Dustin emerged from the main school doors.

Before Eddie could duck out and disappear, Dustin suddenly grabbed the back of his vest and yanked.

“Wait! Steve’s picking us up. You gotta say hi.”

“What? Why?” Eddie stammered as he was dragged backward.

“Because,” Dustin said simply, “he’s right there.”

And sure enough, Steve Harrington stood leaning against his nice car, probably paid for by daddys money, hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking every bit the reluctant chauffeur-slash-older-brother. His hair, as usual, was criminally perfect.

“Hey, Henderson,” Steve said, smacking Dustin lightly on the shoulder as they approached. “You survive your wizard battle or whatever?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dustin said proudly. “It was epic. Eddie made this crazy cursed mirror dimension thing, and the Lich King exploded, and Erica almost died again, but she rolled a natural twenty and-right, Eddie?”
He nudged Eddie, grinning up at him like he was some kind of war hero.

Eddie laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. It was… pretty metal.”

He didn’t know why he was suddenly trying to sound cool now, after spending the past hour pretending to be a three-eyed dwarven shaman in a cape.

Totally not because Steve Harrington was standing three feet away.

Dustin kept going. “But now we have nowhere to play ’cause Eddie’s graduating next week, and your parents are never home, and you owe me one, so we could totally play at your place-”

Steve blinked and cut in, looking at Eddie. “Wait, you graduate next week?”

Eddie blinked back. “Yeah.”

Steve nodded, like that was suddenly a big deal.

“Shit, dude. I forgot about that. That’s cool.”

Eddie shrugged, trying very hard not to grin. “Yeah. Kinda wild.”

“That was not the point to take away from that, Steve!” Dustin cried. “Focus!”

“What? No,” Steve said, already exasperated. “You’re not playing your weird nerd game at my house.”

Dustin crossed his arms. “You said I could pick the movie last week. This is like that but better.”

“Dude-“

Eddie raised a hand, stepping in. “Hey, hey. It’s cool. We’ll find somewhere to play, Dusty.”

Dustin pouted but let it go, barely.

Max, leaning against the car, groaned. “You guys talk so much. Can we leave now?”

Steve sighed like a single father with a minivan full of problem children. “Alright, cretins. Into the car.”
He looked at Eddie as the kids started climbing into the car.

“Later, Munson.”

Eddie gave a lazy two-finger salute. “Later, Harrington.”

And with that, he turned and walked away from them, off to locate Gareth and Jeff again, trying not to think too hard about why his chest felt weirdly warm.

Chapter Text

Eddie Munson had graduated.

Not exactly with flying colours, but still. He had graduated from Hawkins High.

He was free.

Well, atleast as free as you possibly could be, still living out your uncles van in a town where half the people in it still think you’re a murderer.

But he’d never have to go back to this hell.

He thinks he’d rather go back to the upside down than those halls.

The halls where he was shoved against lockers for looking at someone the wrong way. The cafeteria where he was called a freak everyday of his life. The locker rooms he was called slurs. The alley out back of the science block where he got his ass beat and later sold weed from. The classrooms where he’d scribbled on the desks and got handed papers with big red F’s on them. The classrooms he’d once sat at the back of, quiet (I know, Eddie Munson quiet? Who would’ve thought), and tried not to make eye contact with the wrong people. Tried not to make eye contact with Steve Harrington, with those dark eyes and stupid, boyish grin and even stupider perfect hair. Yeah, Eddie was glad to never come back to this place.

But he thinks he’ll miss his little group of friends, hunched around a table in a darkened classroom, listening to him in awe and suspense as he narrates whatever story he’d written for them to follow.

“Eddie!” A voice came from across the school parking lot. He turned to see Robin Buckley waving him over, standing with her bandmates, Vickey being amongst them. Eddie grins, and approaches her.

“Hey, Buckley.” He nods. “Congratulations! Officially free from hell.” He grins, while doing a small bow for dramatic effect. Robin huffs a laugh as she’s now turned away from her bandmates.

“I know. God, I'm glad I'll never break down in one of those gross toilet stalls ever again.” She groans, and Eddie grins at her.

“Glad that’s a universal experience.” He says, and Robin raises a brow.

“Might just be an ‘us’ experience.”

“Oh, I’m sure those stalls have seen worse.” Eddie grins.

Yeah, such as him dropping a joint in the toilet. Or that one time he gave a handjob to Danny Fredricks in Junior year (Eddie had to give him free weed to not tell anyone, which sucked, because he was the one getting off). Or that one time in Sophmore year Tommy H and Frank Dillward attempted to give him a swirly, but he ended up breaking his nose on the toilet seat.

“I’m sure,” Robin nods. “But I’m surprised you’re actually finally leaving this place. Thought you’d haunt the walls forever like some sort of punk-rock ghost.” Eddie scoffs a laugh.

“You’re tellin’ me. I thought I was gonna die before graduating.” He says, before adding “Almost did.” In a lower tone, but grinning. Robin shoots a glare at him, one that said too-soon.

Before Robin could open her mouth to respond, there was a soft hand on her arm.

“Hey, Rob, we’re gonna go find Hariette and then go to Sammy’s. You coming?” Vicky asks softly, smiling at Robin, whose ears go a little pink.

“Yeah! I mean, I’ll find you later. I’m gonna wait for Steve, but I’ll meet you at Sammy’s later. I mean, I’ll meet you guys. You should get the strawberry milkshake there, though. It’s really good. And, like, not too sweet. Unless you like sweet stuff. Then you should probably get chocolate. Or get whatever you want. I don’t know. But yeah, i’ll be there.” She rushes out, grinning like an idiot, and Vickey just huffs a laugh and shakes her head.

“Cool. See you later.” She says sweetly.

“See you later!” Robin replied enthusiastically, before Vickey turned, her hand leaving Robins arm as she disappeared with the other band kids.

She turns back to Eddie, who was looking at her with a knowing grin, and raised eyebrows.

“Was that cool? I was totally not, like, off putting, right?” She asks, her grin faltering now.

“Totally cool, Buckley.”

Robin had come out to Eddie about two weeks after they had returned from the upside down and defeated Vecna. Maybe it was because they’d sort of started spending some time together in school, being in the same year and whatnot, or maybe it was the fact they where trauma-bonded by some paranormal-horror-movie level bullshit, that was perhaps a greater and more dangerous secret they shared than each others sexuality. Or maybe it’s because she could sense it on Eddie like he was wearing a cologne with a top note of ‘Gay’.

It was probably the hankie hanging from Eddie's back pocket (Black, usually on the left, though sometimes on the right when he was in the mood), or maybe the pink triangle patch Eddie had on the inside of his denim battle jacket, hidden but there. It was important to him that it was there.

The one he had thrown at Steve Harrington in the upside down. Not that Steve would even know what it meant, even if he saw it, which he probably didn’t, seeing as though there where much larger things at hand. The jacket Eddie had found clean and neatly folded on the chair of his hospital room that first week after everything went down. He probably made Dustin drop it off.

Nonetheless, this shared secret had just bonded them more. They had gotten pretty close over the past few weeks, even though they had very little in common. Other than being queer, and saving the world, of course.
Just then is when Steve Harrington's car pulled up, parking relatively close to where Eddie and Robin were standing.

Even now, a year after Steve’s graduating, there was a chorus of whispers as he stepped out of the car, running one hand through his annoyingly amazing hair, and a lot of the graduates of this year, Robin and, annoyingly, Eddie included, were staring. Eddie never knew whether it was impressive or pathetic that Steve Harrington socially peaked at high school.

“Steve!” Robin shouted, waving at him. Steve cracked a boyish grin and waved back. He didn’t even look at Eddie.

“Robin Buckley, welcome to the real world.” He says with mock grandeur as he approaches, putting both his hands on Robins shoulders. “You have grown up so fast.”
Robin snorts a laugh.

“Shut up, dingus.” She bites, but shes grinning wildly.

“Hey! I was just about to say I’m proud of you.” He says, smacking her playfully where his hands were on her shoulders, before dropping them.

“Where you now?” Robin raises a brow.

Steve nods.

“Might’ve even given you a hug, too. But you’ve ruined it now.” He shrugs, pretending to be offended.

Eddie stood there not entirely knowing what to do with himself.

“What makes you think I would’ve wanted a hug?” She retorted. “You’re gross.”

Steve put a hand to his chest in mock offence.

“Wow, Buckley. Being so rude. After I brought you a present and everything.” he shook his head in distaste. Robin's eyes lit up.

“You got me a present?” she asks in surprise, almost sceptically.

“Yup,” He grinned now. Then, amazingly, he looked at Eddie, acknowledging his existence. “You, too.”

Eddie blinked.

“What?”

Steve laughed, and turned on his heel, casually beckoning them to follow.

Robin shoots Eddie a grin, before following, and Eddie, still confused, follows blindly as well.

Steve pops open the back door of his car, before bending over and reaching in, and Eddie watches him, a little dumbfounded as to if he heard him correctly, if he should even still be here, and totally didn’t glance at Steve’s ass.

Steve straightened up again, a proud look on his face, as he handed Robin a small box.

She looked at it with narrowed eyes, before looking back up at Steve. Steve laughed.

“Relax, Rob, it’s not a bomb.” He grinned, and Robin hummed before carefully opening the box.

Inside was a thin gold chain, with a little pendant in the shape of a trumpet.

Robin laughed, staring at it in amazement.

“This is so stupid.”

“You don’t have to wear it,” Steve shrugged casually.

“No, I'm gonna wear it every day, asshole.” She spits at him, lifting the chain out the box. “It’s still stupid, though.” She smiled, and Steve had pride etched into his expression.

“Well, isn’t that cute.” Eddie says, after being surprisingly quiet this whole time. He didn’t want to ruin their moment, or whatever.

Steve then looked at him and grinned, before ducking back into the car. When he re-emerged, he had another small box in his hand, with the same branding as the box he gave Robin. Eddie raised a brow, trying to bury the warm feeling that was stirring in his gut. This box looked more like a ring box.

“Hope you’re not about to get down on one knee, Harrington,” He grinned. “High School graduation isn’t the most romantic place.”

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, shoving the box into Eddie's hands.

“In your dreams, buddy.” He says dryly, then just staring expectantly at Eddie, waiting for him to open it.

Eddie just furrowed his brows at the box in his hand, before cautiously opening it.

Inside was a thick silver ring, with the design of a Dragon, making it look like a dragon was curling around the finger of whoever wore it. Eddie's expression melted into surprise. This was badass.

His eyes flickered back up to Steve, and he stared at him in amazement, and the guy just smirked back at him.

Eddie picked the ring out the box and admired it.

“Holy shit this is cool,” He breathes.

“Henderson helped me pick it out. Knew you’d like it.” Steve says proudly, and Eddie gets this tight feeling in his chest.

“You didn’t, like, have to get me anything, man.” Eddie says, furrowing his brows at Steve. Steve just shrugs.

“I know. But you’re my friend, and you’re finally fucking graduating after, what, being set back 4 years?” Steve grinned, and Eddie blinked at him.

We’re friends? He wanted to say.

“One year,” He corrected, keeping that other thought inside. Steve waved a hand at him, as if to say same-thing.

“Steve, you’re such a softy.” Robin teases, tilting her head and clutching the necklace. Steve glared at her.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I think you’ll find I'm very hard, actually.”

Robin raised her brows at him.

“Not like-”

“Thought I told you I wasn’t into you like that.” She grinned.

“You know what I-”

“Maybe it’s because of me.” Eddie chimed in, smirking.

Steve just let out an exasperated sigh.

“I hate the both of you.”

“No you don’t,” Robin grinned, punching him lightly in the arm. “You love us. Because you’re gonna drive me to Sammy’s so I can hang out with Vicky.”

Steve raised a brow.

“I am?”

Robin nodded, smiling.

“So you’re not even gonna hang out with me after I showed up to your graduation and got you a super awesome gift?” He says plainly. Robin sighs.

“I’ll hang out with you tomorrow, dingus. You’re supposed to be my wingman.”

“I’ll hang out with you, Stevie,” Eddie says cheerfully, leaning against Steves car. “You’ve bought my friendship now. And I know how much you’ve been dying for some one on one time with me.”

He was joking, of course. He and Steve never ‘hung out’, and definitely not just with each other. He was expecting Steve to give him a dry look or a shake of his head.

Instead, Steve just raised a brow at him.

“Cool. But no smoking in the car, alright? My dad’ll kill me.” He says simply, before turning to climb into the driver's seat.

Eddie's eyebrows shot up. He was supposed to go smoke copious amounts of weed with Gareth, Jeff and Matty after this. But now, apparently, he was spending the rest of his afternoon with Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. That definitely did not make Eddie feel a little twinge of excitement at all. Nope.

“You get in the front,” Robin says to him. “I’m getting dropped off at Sammy’s, so you won’t have to switch seats.”

She said it to him like there was nothing bizarre about this at all. Maybe a small knowing smirk as she jumped in the back seat, but Eddie could’ve imagined that.

So, Eddie just rounded the back of the car and popped open the passenger side door, before throwing himself down on the seat.

He looked at Steve Harrington turning the key in his car, and thought that if you told him a year ago he’d spend his first day out of high school with fucking Steve Harrington, he would’ve laughed. Or maybe cried.

The engine hummed low under Eddie’s boots, the familiar rattle of Steve Harrington’s ancient air conditioning barely cutting through the June heat.

He sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s BMW, fiddling with the silver ring that now rested on his finger. Badass. The details of the dragons claws and teeth and scales makes him think about how expensive it might’ve been. He’d given it to him. Just... handed it over, real casual-like, as if it didn’t mean anything.

Eddie hadn’t even known Steve remembered Eddie was graduating too.

Robin was in the backseat, her legs pulled up, graduation gown bunched at her knees. She was messing with the necklace Steve had given her—delicate and gold, not her usual style, but she looked like she might actually cry when she was sitting in the backseat, clasping it around her neck, hoping neither of them turned round to see.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she says.

And Steve just shrugs. “You’re my people.”

You’re my people.

And apparently... Eddie was included in that? What the hell.

They parked up outside Sammy’s Diner, and Robin was fluffing her hair in the visor mirror like she hadn’t just survived four years of Hawkins High with a GPA and a gay crush and come out stronger.

“You think this shirt says ‘cool but approachable’ or ‘I wore this because I had nothing else clean’?” she asked, glancing between them.

“I think it says ‘Vicky is going to think you’re adorable no matter what’,” Steve said, glancing back with a soft smile.

Robin groaned. “God, I hate that you’re nice now.”

She kicked open the door, grabbing her bag. “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone. And Eddie, don’t let him bully you into watching Footloose again.”

Eddie raised both hands. “No promises.”

Robin leaned down through the open window before leaving. “Thanks again, Dingus,” she said to Steve. Then she gave Eddie a little salute. “Later, Munson.”

“Make good choices, Buckley!” Eddie called, but she was already skipping toward the diner entrance, disappearing into a group of laughing girls, blond hair catching the sun like a movie scene.

Then it was just the two of them. Steve and Eddie. King Steve and the town freak. Weirdest buddy comedy of the year.

Eddie cleared his throat and tried to fill the quiet. “So... this is the part where you drop me off at the trailer and we never speak again, right?” He says with a grin.

Steve raised a brow. “I was gonna say we could hit up the arcade or grab food or something. I mean- unless that ring was too much and you’re breaking up with me already.”

Eddie blinked. “I- what? No. I mean, I didn’t even know we were together to begin with, man. Was this, like... a promise ring? Are we going steady?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

But Eddie saw it-just the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He looked back down at the ring. It was real, and it had weight, and Steve had handed it to him like it was nothing, but it, stupidly, meant something to Eddie.

“So,” Steve said, throwing the car into gear. “You hanging out or what?”

Eddie leaned back against the seat and shrugged, doing his best to sound bored instead of like he was currently trying not to float out of his body. “Eh. Sure. Nothing better to do. Might as well waste the first day of my post-high-school life with a washed-up ex-jock and his tragically uncool music taste.”

Steve glanced sideways, one hand on the wheel. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today, Munson. Otherwise I’d make you listen to Tears for Fears the whole drive.”

Eddie clutched his chest. “God, not the ‘Shout’ torture again.”

But the truth was, as the sun lit up the dashboard and Hawkins drifted past the window, Eddie couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

How the hell had he ended up here?

In a car with Robin Buckley and Steve Freakin’ Harrington. With a graduation ring on his finger and a heart that wouldn’t shut the hell up every time Steve looked at him.
He didn’t get it.

But hell if he was gonna complain.

—

They ended up at one of those hole-in-the-wall burger joints just outside of Hawkins, the kind with sun-faded booths, a half-lit neon sign, and a jukebox that only worked when it felt like it.

Steve had pulled in like he always did, too fast into the lot, sunglasses pushed up on his head, complaining about how much gas cost now like he was forty years old. Eddie, of course, had just laughed and called him a suburban dad. Twice.
And yet Steve still paid for both their meals. Which Eddie only gave him mild shit for.

Now they were sitting in a booth by the window, Eddie unwrapping his second cheeseburger with the enthusiasm of a starving raccoon while Steve picked at his fries with all the joy of someone being held hostage.

“You eat like you’ve never seen food before,” Steve muttered, watching in vague horror as Eddie shoved half the burger into his mouth in one bite.

“Because I respect the art of cuisine,” Eddie said around a mouthful, spraying crumbs onto the table. “This is what culture looks like, Harrington. Burgers and bottomless Coke. You can keep your caviar and your croquet or whatever rich people eat.”

Steve gave him a flat look. “Croquet is a game.”

Eddie pointed a ketchup-covered fry at him. “Exactly. What kind of bougie people turn games into food?”

Steve stared at him for a long second, then huffed out a laugh he didn’t seem to mean, but Eddie caught the real one underneath it, that honest, crooked little smile that always made Steve look five years younger and a lot less intimidating.
And of course, Eddie’s heart did that dumb flutter thing again. Like a damn butterfly had set up shop in his ribcage.

But he just leaned back with a dramatic sigh, arms stretched along the booth seat like he owned the place. “I’m just saying, it’s tragic how high your standards are, Harrington. We need to culture you. Introduce you to the simple pleasures in life.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve popped another fry in his mouth, barely looking at him. “And you’re gonna be my guide to culture? That’s rich.”

Eddie smirked, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “Please. I’m the crown prince of Hawkins Trailer Park. I’ll teach you everything I know. First lesson-how to light a cigarette with a toaster.”

Steve snorted. “I already regret this.”

“You say that,” Eddie said, wiggling his brows, “but deep down you’re thrilled to be in my company. It’s okay to admit you like me now. Everyone does.”

Steve rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Only because if I don’t hype me up, who will?”

Steve didn’t answer that. He just leaned back, watching Eddie with a slightly amused squint-like he was trying to figure out if Eddie was actually serious, or just playing a part. Like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that they were here, in this booth, after everything.

Eddie felt that too. Every time he caught Steve looking at him for longer than a second, he felt it in his bones.

The last time they were alone together, there was blood. Fear. The world ending.

Now there was... greasy burgers and that annoying way Steve kept acting like Eddie was some kind of tolerated nuisance. Which, yeah-okay, maybe he was annoying. But it was kind of becoming their thing.

“I mean,” Eddie said, tearing at his straw wrapper like it had personally wronged him, “I gotta say-I expected our first solo hangout to be more, like... dramatic. Thought you’d make me fight a demogorgon or listen to Phil Collins or something.”

Steve looked up, brow raised. “Phil Collins is awesome.”

Eddie gasped. “Oh my god. No. No. This ends here.”

“I’m serious!” Steve said, a little too defensive. “The drum solo in ‘In the Air Tonight’? Legendary.”

Eddie slammed his hand on the table. “I refuse to be friends with someone who says that unironically.”

Steve gave him a look, lips twitching. “Who said we were friends?”

Eddie quirked a brow, giving him a plain look.

“You did.”

Steve blinked at him.

“Oh, right.”

Eddie huffed a laugh.

“I was just saying that to be nice, it being your graduation and all,” Steve just shoved another fry in his mouth, not looking at Eddie. He grinned anyway, like it didn’t touch him. “Right. Right. We’re not friends. You’re just slumming it with a filthy metalhead until Robin’s free again.”

Steve smirked. “Exactly.”

They lapsed into silence for a minute. Not awkward-just quiet. The jukebox in the corner crackled to life with some Fleetwood Mac track, and the sun through the window hit Steve’s hair in that stupid golden way that made him look more like a movie character than a real person.

Eddie looked down at his tray. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, still not used to the weight of it.

He didn’t bring it up. They hadn’t talked about the Upside Down. About that day. About the way Steve had carried him, bleeding, broken, dying, to safety. About how his voice was the one that kept Eddie conscious when the pain had started to drown everything out.

He didn’t know how to talk about that.

So instead, he popped another fry into his mouth and said, “So what’s the plan now, King Steve? You drop me off, go home, and cry to Against All Odds in the dark?”

Steve kicked him under the table.

Eddie grinned like an idiot.

And for a second, everything was simple.

Chapter Text

The first time Eddie Munson saw Steve after everything, was when he and Robin came to his trailer on his first day home.

Steve had stood sort of awkwardly in his crappy living room as Eddie showed off his scars to Robin, saying something about how metal they were, and how a few of them had messed up his tattoos.

The second he had seen Steve Harrington step out of his car, he got some warm feeling creep up inside of him, a strange twist in his gut he couldn’t really explain.

And they hadn’t even mentioned it yet. Steve just said something about how Eddie’s tattoos were shitty anyway.

Robin had asked how he was doing, what the doctors had said about his injuries, and Eddie joked about how they thought he got attacked by some rabid animal.

Eventually, Eddie looked at Steve, his heart rising to his throat, and Steve raised his brows at him uncomfortably.

Eddie had awkwardly stammered out some sort of thanks to him, scratched the back of his neck as he said about how Dustin had told him what he did, and that it ‘was real cool of him, man’.

Steve had just shrugged, saying it was ‘No big deal’, and to ‘not go doin’ it again cus he might not be around next time’, and Eddie had just smiled at him.

They didn’t speak of it again.

Most of them rarely talked about what had happened. The younger of them making too-soon jokes, and Nancy and Jonathan probably comforting each other as the Byers had temporarily moved back home after the events a month ago, and Eddie thinks Steve and Robin probably had each other's backs.

No one really talked to Eddie about it.

Henderson did on occasion, him and little Wheeler being the only ones who visited him in hospital, and Robin did in school once in an empty music room at lunch, and they’d hugged and almost cried.

But no one seemed to acknowledge that Eddie had almost died. Not really. In a way, they had all almost died.

This meant that Eddie hadn’t really had a chance to talk about how he was ready to die that day. How he’d picked up that totally metal upside down guitar, and climbed on the roof of that trailer, ready to die. He knew what he was getting himself into.

And how he thought he was dying, in Henderson's arms. It was his year. He was finally gonna graduate.

He was finally going to die.

Eddie Munson had thought about death a lot before.

The first time was when he was 9 years old, and his father came home drunk and proceeded to tell him he wish he never met his mother because then he wouldn’t have this useless fucking burden of a son.

Since then, he’d probably thought about it at least once a week, if not once a day.

He wasnt suicidal, exactly. Just that there were some nights he thought he wouldn’t mind if he didn’t wake up the next morning.

It’d probably mean he’d be less of a burden to his kind, accepting uncle. The man who took him in when his father got arrested for a drunken hit and run. When 13 year old Eddie had shown up on his doorstep with a duffel bag and a half empty pack of Marlboro's that he’d swiped.

Eddie had a hard life. He’d never say that out loud, barely admitted it to himself, because he was bigger than that. He was tough enough to not sit around and feel sorry for himself. Self pity didn’t help him survive 13 years in that house. And it certainly didn’t help him survive high school.

He never told anyone anything really about his dad. Not in an emotional, opening up way or anything. He’d joke about his daddy being in jail, and not cry about the fact his ‘Daddy’ forgot to feed him for 3 days when he was 10 years old. About the fact he can’t remember ever celebrating a birthday in that house. About the fact he was called a fag by his own dad when he painted his own nails for the first time when he was 12.

It was fine now, anyway. Well, not fine, but better.

Living with his uncle. In a trailer park. Barely making ends meet. That he started dealing when he was 16 just to help Wayne out. Eating stale bread he didn’t feel like he deserved.

Going to highschool just to get thrown against lockers and called names in the halls and have screwed up paper balls launched at his head in class and get beaten up in the far corner of the field in gym because he was weird and quiet and weak and an easy pick.

By anyone else's standards, his life sucked.

But he had band. Playing guitar and writing music and practicing out his friends garage and playing in front of the school like they weren’t whispering about them, about him.
And he had D&D, writing campaigns and playing them with whatever freaks of the school they collected.
And it wasn’t so bad when he was a super senior. The bullying died down because you didn’t really bully the guy a year older than you who deals drugs out the bike shed and has tattoos and probably a knife in his pocket.
He had Hellfire club, and it was small and it was fun and it was his.

But the feeling never really went away. It lurked, just beneath the surface, like it was ready to crawl back into the forefront of his mind the moment things went south again.

Like when Chrissy Cunningham tried to buy off him and she levitated in mid air and had her neck snapped and the whole world thought he killed her.

When he ran and slept in an abandoned boathouse on the lake and he was afraid and hunted and his life was pretty much over.

When he was found and then explained about the paranormal evil creatures and other world and Vecna and he was dragged into literal hell and somehow helped save the world.

Although

Now the feeling had sunk down, buried again, waiting.

And he ignored it. Never speaking it into words. He didn’t need to. He didn’t want to. No one wanted to hear his pathetic sob story. He might be a freak, but he’s got an image to uphold. He brushed shit off him like it was nothing. He was metal.

He had no one to listen anyway.

But none of it mattered. Not now he was sitting in a junkyard with a bunch of fifteen year olds.

“-And then he went BAM, and whacked another one away, and it, like, flung away, but then the other demodog jumped-“ Dustin yells enthusiastically as he swung around an old crowbar, reenacting Steve Harringtons battle with the demodogs from way before Eddie was involved in any of this.

As if Eddie needed any more reason to believe that Steve Harrington was the bravest, most selfless person he’d ever met, Dustin was demonstrating how he’d fended off a herd of strange violent creatures to protect the kids.

Eddie laughed.

“Alright, Henderson, I think I get the picture.” He yells back, and the kid just grins.

“It was totally badass, Eddie! It was like, one of our campaign battles in real life!” He says as he skips over to where Eddie was sat on the hood of a broken down car, smacking the crowbar into his other palm.

“Yeah, and it’s an event I'd rather not relive, really.” Lucas calls dryly from where he and Max were smashing shit up. Well, Max was.

“I’d rather not relive any of it,” Will says sorta to himself, where he was sitting with a sketchbook on his lap.

Eddie had only met the Byers kid during the end of the world. Or, after they’d stopped it.

He was cool, though. After Eddie had heard all the shit he’d been through, he felt sorry for the kid. And the boy was insanely talented. A good artist, and an even better dungeon master. Not that he’d ever played one of his campaigns, but once Mike had insisted Eddie read some of one Will had planned, and even Eddie was impressed.

“You don’t need to keep tellin’ me how cool Harrington is,” Eddie rolls his eyes, smirking slightly. “I’m gonna get jealous.”

“Jealous?” He squints up at Eddie. “Of Steve?”

Eddie shrugs one shoulder, trying to look cool and aloof, even as his foot tapped a little too fast against the car roof.
“Well, yeah. I mean, you're out here singing the guy's praises like he’s freakin’ Captain America. What’s a guy gotta do to get that kind of admiration around here?”
Dustin frowned, genuine and a little confused.

“Dude, you already do get that kind of admiration. From me. And the rest of them, too. I mean—you’re Eddie ‘The Banished’ Munson, slayer of Vecna, ruler of D&D, and deliverer of loud-ass guitar solos in the face of death.”

Eddie barks out a laugh at that, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. “You forgot ‘wanted felon’ and ‘permanent school mascot failure.’”

Dustin leans his elbow on Eddie’s knee, looking up at him like he was an absolute idiot. “I’m serious. Steve’s cool, yeah, but so are you. You’re both, like, equally cool.”

Eddie swallows around something sharp in his throat and looks away, pretending to watch Max go full demolition mode on a broken stereo. “Yeah, well. I guess you’re alright too, Dusty.”

Dustin beams and gives Eddie’s knee a light punch. “Just admit you love me already, Munson.”

Eddie grinned. “Gross. No. Never.”

They both laugh, and for a second, it felt easy-just kids in the junkyard, no Upside Down, no monsters, no complicated feelings about a guy with perfect hair and way-too-soft eyes.

Then Dustin adds, way too casually, “I mean, it’s not weird that you get jealous about Steve, right? You guys are friends now.”

Eddie flinches, just barely, and tries to hide it behind a scoff.

“Yeah. Sure. Friends.”

Will looks up from his drawing at that, gaze flicking between them, thoughtful and quiet.

But no one said anything else.

Somewhere, Max screams in victory as the stereo explodes in a puff of sparks.

Eddie lay back against the windshield of the car, sunglasses sliding down his nose, heart thudding a little too loud in his chest.

Because yeah. Friends.

Right.

Max declares the stereo officially dead, she drops the pipe with a clatter and grins like she’s just won a gold medal in destruction. Lucas gives her an exaggerated round of applause, and she bowed with mock pride, her curls bouncing under the sun.

Mike had somehow found an old shopping cart and was now standing in it like a gladiator, yelling, “Push me into battle, Henderson! I demand vengeance!”

“I’m not pushing you,” Dustin says, holding the crowbar like a scepter. “You’ll break your leg and cry about it for a week.”

“You’re just scared of my war face,” Mike argues, baring his teeth in a way that made Will giggle and roll his eyes.

“Your war face looks like you sat on a nail,” Will says, not even glancing up from his sketchbook.

Lucas, meanwhile, had started juggling pieces of broken glass until Max swore loudly and snatched them away, threatening to throw them at his head if he tried it again.

Eddie slides off the car hood, landing in the dirt with a dramatic grunt like he’d just dismounted a dragon. He stretched like a cat, arms above his head, and said, “Alright, nerds. Game time. Who wants to play ‘Don’t Touch the Ground’?”

Max raised a brow. “Is that a real game or one you just made up right now?”

Eddie grinned. “Does it matter?”

Dustin immediately drops his crowbar. “I’m in.”

Within minutes, the rules were made up (something about climbing on top of old cars and junk without touching the ground, last one standing wins), and chaos took over. Eddie ended up shouting “You are unworthy of the lava realm!” as he shoved Mike off a fender. Lucas tried to swing from one old van to another using a bungee cord that Will wisely refused to get involved with. Max, of course, was winning—jumping, dodging, climbing like she'd trained in an underground gym.

Will stayed mostly on the edges, still sketching but laughing quietly whenever someone fell with a yelp or swore too loudly. Eddie made a point to look over at him now and then, throwing a smile his way or making a joke just to pull one of those little grins out of the kid.

Eventually, the game devolved into everyone flopping in a sweaty pile on an old mattress someone had deemed "probably not covered in tetanus." Max lay across it with her arms flung out dramatically like she’d just died in a Shakespeare play. Mike was panting like he’d run a marathon. Dustin was still talking, something about how he totally could’ve beaten Max if he hadn’t tripped over the hubcap.

Eddie sat on the edge of the mess, arms looped around his knees, the sun glinting off the silver ring on his finger—the one Steve had given him yesterday. He caught his reflection in a piece of shattered side mirror nearby.

He looked... happy.

Like a guy who belonged.

Like someone who wasn’t just passing through anymore.

Max groaned. “I need food. Like, now. Or I’m gonna eat Mike.”

“There’s not much of me to eat,” Mike mumbled, half-asleep.

“Exactly. Easy target.”

Eddie grinned, pushing to his feet and clapping his hands. “Alright, kiddos. To the diner?”

Everyone cheered in exhausted agreement.

They started wandering toward the bikes and the one car Lucas had borrowed from his dad. Dustin jogged beside Eddie, nudging him in the ribs.

“You looked happy, man,” he says softly, not teasing for once. “Like, actually happy.”

Eddie bumps his shoulder. “Don’t ruin it by saying weird heartfelt crap, Henderson.”

Dustin smirks. “Okay, okay. Fine.”

They laugh.

Chapter Text

The bell above the door of Family Video jingles as Eddie Munson throws the door open and walks in with a confidence about him like he owned the place. He’s met with the rows of aisle of tapes, dust floating in the air as the store is lit by the orange glow of the afternoon sun.

Steve stood behind the counter, sorting returns, and barely glanced up.

“You’re later than usual,” Steve says dryly without really looking at him. Eddie grins.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, his mess of curly black hair shifting over his shoulder as he saunters up to the counter. “I was helpin’ the old man with some repairs.”

“I don’t remember asking.” Steve just replies, but Eddie catches the tug of a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

The store’s pretty much empty, minus the tired looking mother in the kid’s section with a toddler tugging at her skirt. Robin was nowhere in sight, and Eddie assumes that she’s in the back room somewhere, and as much as he loves the girl, he doesn’t mind being left alone with Harrington.

“Oh, so cold, Stevie. After I'd made the effort just to come and see you.” He leans his arms forward onto the counter, half expecting Steve to move a little away now Eddies almost breaching his personal space. He doesn’t.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Steve says, the tiniest ghost of a grin at his lips, before he clears his throat and smiles unnaturally. “Welcome to Family Video! With good movies and even better customer service. I’m Steve Harrington and I’ll be here if you need any assistance!”

His tone was unnaturally enthusiastic, his customer service act turned up to the max. Eddie raises his eyebrows at him in surprise, before laughing.

“That was terrifying.” He says after managing to calm his laughter, but still grinning wide.

Steve just shrugs, face fading back into a normal, Harrington smirk.

“That’s probably why you get no customer’s, dude. You’re scarin’ them off.” Eddie tilts his head.

Steve picks up a stack of action movies, and raises a brow at him.

“You sure it’s not the fact there’s always a guy loitering in here with the worst fashion sense they’ve ever seen?” He rounds the counter, and walks over to the action section which is the closest to the counter. Eddie spins round and leans back on it, folding his arms.

“Maybe it’s the fact they’re scared they’ll suffocate ‘cus the place is gassed out by how much hairspray you use.” He smirks, and Steve shoots him a glare over his shoulder.

“Don’t even use hairspray.” He mutters, half to himself, and Eddie huffs a laugh.

Then, they hear the door of the back room swing open, and Eddie turns his head to see Robin walk out awkwardly with a cardboard box in her arms.

Her face lights up a little when she sees Eddie. Eddie’s chest felt a little warm. Yeah, having friends was nice.

“Munson!” She exclaims as she drops the box to the far end of the counter and Eddie spins round again to face her, ringed fingers tapping on the counter. “Was wondering when you’d show your face.”

“Do you two just sit around all day waitin’ for me?” He says and Robin rolls her eyes.

“That’s all Steve does. Well, apart from flirting with young mom’s renting rom-com’s.” She teases, throwing a glance at Steve, who just glares at her.

Eddies gut does that annoying knotting thing.

“I do more than you do around here,” Steve scoffs. “All you do is sit in the backroom pretending to rewind tapes or sit on the counter and criticise my organisation skills. I practically run the place.”

Robin huffs a laugh.

“You deserve the criticism. You don’t know the alphabet.”

“That was one time.”

Robin shakes her head disapprovingly and looks back to Eddie.

“Anyway, how’s the job hunt going, Munson?” She asks, and Eddie pulls a face.

“Not many places ‘round here want to hire a suspected murderer who barely graduated highschool.” He sighs.

“You’re selling yourself short. I’m sure you have a lot of hidden skills.” She says with a little smile as she takes another couple of tapes out the cardboard box. “Just very, very hidden.”

Eddie brings his hand to his heart in mock offence.

“I’ll have you know I have many talents, Buckley.” He huffs dramatically. Robin laughs.

“Yeah? Like what?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at her.

“Like playing one of the hardest Metallica songs in literal hell?” He says like it's obvious. Robin just glances up at him dryly as she sorts the tapes into genres.

“Let me know when that helps you get a job.” She says smiling to herself. Eddie tuts.

Then, there was a presence behind him.

Steve had approached and was now directly behind him. And then he was slightly next to him. And then he was leaning over the counter, reaching for another few tapes he had left there that needed restocking. And Steve was so close that their sides were touching, just barely, and Eddie could smell that probably expensive cologne. Steve shot him a grin from over his shoulder.

“I’m sure you have some redeeming qualities.” He says, before straightening up, a small stack of comedies now in his hands.

He lingers for a second, hip leaning against the counter, still very much in Eddie's personal space. Eddie felt like his insides were on fire.

“Wow. How kind of you.” he says, deadpan, and Steve's grin widens for a second, before he pushes off the counter and makes his way across the store to reshelve the tapes in his hand, and Eddie had to turn back to Robin like his heart hadn’t actually just almost failed.

That’s when the mom and her kid, the only other people in the store, approach the register, and Robin holds up a finger to Eddie as if to say ‘one-sec’.

“Hi, you find everything okay?” Robin says cheerfully as the woman sighs and puts the tapes down on the counter, one kid film and ‘Footloose’. Eddie pulls a face to himself.

“Yeah, just took this one about an hour to decide.” The lady says with a tired smile, gesturing to the little boy at her side. Robin gives a small laugh.

Robin punches something into the register, and announces the price, and the woman hands over some cash, and Robin almost begs her to remember to rewind the tape before returning it. They never do.

Then, the bell above the door jingles as the woman leaves, her kid whining about being hungry, and Robin turns back to Eddie.

“Oh, by the way, me and Steve were gonna hang out after work. Maybe go to that bowling alley in the mall with the really good milkshakes. You wanna come?” She asks casually, leaning forward and smiling at him, and Eddie just raises his brows in surprise.

“Seriously?” He asks, a little skeptical, and Robin just rolls her eyes.

“Yes, weirdo. You come here to annoy us every weekend anyway, you might as well do it outside of our jobs too.” She huffs.

Eddie still just stares at her.

“Hey, Steve?” Robin calls out across the store, and Steve's head pops up from behind one of the aisle.

“Yeah?”

“It cool if Eddie hangs out after work with us?” She asks, and Eddie actually felt like smacking his head against the nearest wall.

He definitely expected Steve to pull some sort of face, and make some sort of dismissive excuse, or just make fun of him, or just plainly say no.

Instead, Steve looked at him for a second, expression unreadable, then back to Robin.

“Sure.” He calls, before he disappears again.

Eddie, confused, and weirdly feeling a little buzz of excitement, turns back to Robin, who has a victorious grin on her face.

“You don’t have anything better to do, do you?” She asks.

Eddie shakes his head.

“Good.” She grins. “We get off at 5, but that idiot will probably take another 20 minutes to close up cus he sings Queen while mopping-”

“I can hear you.” Steve calls, unseen, and Robin just laughs.

“But meet us after work?” She asks finally, a small smile on her face.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Eddie says, fighting the biggest grin from breaking his face in half. God, he was an idiot. Robin just nods.

“Cool. See you later, then.”

——

The bell of the Family video store jingles as he enters, closed sign flipped round on the door and the shutters drawn.

It was 5:15, and Eddie had yet again returned to this god forsaken Blockbuster knock off store.

Robin is the first to spot him, popping up from behind the counter like she’s been electrocuted. “Munson! Right on time.”

Eddie leans against the counter, drumming his rings on the surface, the thick silver dragon one amongst them. “What can I say? Couldn’t stay away from you two lovebirds.” He raises his voice a little. “Harrington! You back there stealing candy again?”

Steve’s head pokes out from the storeroom, an unamused expression plastered across his face. “I don’t steal candy. I taste-test it for quality control.”

“Ah, my mistake.” Eddie grins, rocking back on his heels. “I’m sure the customers appreciate your noble sacrifice.”

Robin snorts. “Very noble indeed. You’re not gonna find a girlfriend if you get fat, dingus.”

Steve rolls his eyes, grabbing his jacket off the hook.

“Okay, can we not talk about my love life already? Before I’ve even locked up? Just—gimme five minutes, alright?”

Eddie flops dramatically against the counter. “Five whole minutes. God, the agony. Guess I’ll just die here, waiting.”

“Feel free,” Steve deadpans, throwing a set of keys to Robin. “Lock the front, will you?”

Robin salutes, sliding off the counter and marching toward the door. “Yes, Captain.”

They finish up quickly, Steve turning off the lights while Robin twists the lock. Eddie waits outside the back door, rocking back and forth on his heels, the early evening sun casting long shadows across the tiny staff parking lot and the bins filled with cardboard. When they finally step out, Steve is jingling his keys and wearing an expression that’s far too grumpy for a guy about to have a night out.

“Oh man, you look thrilled, Harrington,” Eddie teases. “Don’t explode with joy all at once.”

Steve shoots him a look. “I can hardly contain myself.”

“Aw, didn’t know you liked me that much,” Eddie singsongs, shoving his hands into his pockets as they head for Steve’s car. He’s not surprised when Robin takes shotgun without hesitation, leaving Eddie to climb into the back. He slides in, stretching his legs across the seat dramatically.

“Chauffeur, take me to the mall,” he commands, putting on the poshest accent he can muster.

Steve snorts, starting the engine. “Keep it up and I’m dropping you off at the junkyard.”

“Oh, promise?” Eddie raises his eyebrows, but Steve just cranks the stereo in response. The car fills with the sound of Wham!, “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” blasting through the speakers.

Eddie’s mouth drops open. He stares at the back of Steve’s head like it’s sprouted horns. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Steve glances at him in the rearview mirror. “Problem?”

“God, your music taste is tragic.” Eddie’s voice is dripping with disbelief.

Steve rolls his eyes. “My car, my music.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Eddie groans, throwing his head back. He makes a show of clutching his chest. “I’m in a nightmare. I’ve died and this is hell. Wham! on repeat.”

Robin turns around in her seat, grinning. “Better than his Hall & Oates phase, trust me.”

“Hey!” Steve protests. “Private Eyes is a classic.”

“Yeah, a classic piece of shit,” Eddie snickers, and Robin outright laughs, slapping the dashboard.

Steve glares at her. “I thought you were on my side, Buckley.”

“I am! When you’re not playing the same five songs from the top 40,” she says, turning back around and fiddling with the knobs on the radio. Steve slaps her hand away.

“Hey! My car, my music, remember?” He repeats, jabbing a finger at the dial.

Robin huffs. “You play this one more time, I swear I’m jumping out on the highway.”

Eddie leans forward, poking his head between the two front seats. “I’ll push you out if you want. You don’t even have to jump.”

“Thanks, Munson,” Robin says sweetly. “At least someone’s on my side.”

“Oh, don’t start with the team-up thing,” Steve begins, but it’s too late. Eddie and Robin share a glance, and suddenly, it’s like they’ve synced up telepathically.

“You know,” Eddie says, smirking, “I just assumed the hair was the worst thing about him. But this? This is a whole new level of pain.”

Robin giggles. “Right? Like, who knew the guy who dressed like a JC Penney catalogue threw on Wham! to get in the zone?”

“I bet he sings along,” Eddie whispers conspiratorially.

“Oh, he does sing along,” Robin confirms.

Steve groans, gripping the steering wheel like it personally offended him. “I hate you both. I can leave you at the food court, you know.”

“Empty threats,” Eddie retorts, leaning back smugly. “You love the company too much.”

Robin nods. “He’s right. You’d miss us.”

“Not even for a second,” Steve mumbles, but Eddie catches the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile.

They pull into the mall parking lot a few minutes later, the sun just starting to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across cracked asphalt. Steve parks, yanking the keys out of the ignition and sighing like he’s just survived a war.

Robin unbuckles, turning around in her seat to face Eddie. “Ready to get your ass kicked in bowling, Munson?”

Eddie scoffs. “I was born ready.”

Steve rolls his eyes, popping open his door. “You were born annoying. Let’s go.”

Eddie climbs out of the car, glancing up at the bright neon sign of the mall entrance, glowing like a beacon. He’s not entirely sure how he ended up here, climbing out of Steve Harrington’s car, cracking jokes with Robin, and heading for an evening of hanging out with them, but he’s not about to question it.

He just shoves his hands into his pockets, falls into step beside Steve, and grins. “Hope you’ve got bumpers for Harrington,” he stage-whispers to Robin. “Wouldn’t want him to cry.”

“Oh, he’ll cry anyway,” Robin responds.

Steve just sighs, long-suffering, but he doesn’t say anything back. Eddie can’t help but notice the tiny smile playing at his lips as they head inside.

—

The bowling alley is buzzing with the low hum of crashing pins and the distant chatter of families and teenagers crowded around snack counters. Fluorescent lights flicker slightly above them, casting everything in a pale glow that makes the neon shoe racks look even more garish.

Eddie’s crammed into a pair of ugly, checkered bowling shoes, the laces fraying at the ends. He feels a little out of place. The mall isn’t really his scene. Not that he gives a shit about anyone who looks at him funny anyway. He watches as Robin ties hers with expert precision, not even looking at her hands as she chatters away.

“So, last time we were here,” she says, pointing at Steve with her thumb, “Steve almost threw his back out trying to bowl like some kind of Olympic athlete.”

Steve, who’s busy selecting a ball from the rack, looks up with a scowl. “I did not throw my back out.”

Robin smirks. “Oh, sorry. Slightly injured your delicate, middle-aged spine.”

“You know what? I’m not even gonna dignify that with a response,” Steve shoots back, but his lips twitch like he’s fighting a grin.

Eddie’s already laughing, grabbing a ball from the rack and weighing it in his hands. “What’s this I hear? King Steve can’t handle a ten-pound ball?”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “I can handle it just fine. Thanks.” He grabs a bright red bowling ball, spinning it in his hands like it’s a basketball. “I just don’t like to show off. Unlike some people.”

Eddie snorts. “Sure, Harrington. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, and Eddie realizes belatedly that he’s just been challenged.

“Alright, Munson,” Steve says, strolling up to the lane with a confidence that borders on theatrical. “Watch and learn.”

Robin leans over to Eddie, dropping her voice conspiratorially. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

Eddie chuckles under his breath, crossing his arms as he watches Steve square up, hips angled like he’s lining up for a three-pointer instead of a bowling lane. He strides forward, swings his arm back with a little too much flourish, and hurls the ball down the lane. It veers hard to the left, knocking over exactly one pin with a sad little thunk.

“Oh my God, you actually got worse!” Robin bursts into laughter, practically folding in half.

Steve straightens, turning around with both hands thrown up in mock surrender. “It’s called strategy! I’m...testing the waters.”

Eddie’s cackling, leaning back against the ball rack. “Testing the gutters, you mean.”

Steve points at him. “Alright, big shot. You’re up. Let’s see it.”

Eddie snatches his own ball and saunters up to the lane, turning back to give Robin a dramatic wink. “Prepare to be amazed.”

Robin crosses her arms, raising her eyebrows. “Oh, I’m prepared.”

Eddie sets his feet, rolls his shoulders, and lets the ball loose. It glides smoothly, knocking down seven pins with a satisfying crack. He spins back around with a flourishing bow.

“Thank you, thank you.”

Robin claps mockingly. “Wow, seven whole pins. You really are the pinnacle of athleticism.”

“Oh, shut up,” Eddie laughs, nudging her with his elbow. He loves Robin, really. His only friend at school outside of Hellfire. But seeing her with Steve, the way they play off each other, the way she doesn’t even hesitate to tease him, it’s...different. Easy. Comfortable. He gets it now, why they’re so close. Why Steve doesn’t seem to mind the constant ribbing.

Because it’s love, isn’t it? Real, messy, unbreakable friendship, built in forced proximity and forged in trauma. Eddie can’t help but feel a little bit of envy simmer under his skin, but then Robin turns that bright smile on him, and it’s gone just as quickly.

Steve’s back up, picking a different ball this time, something bright green that looks like it came straight from a cartoon. A heavier one. Eddie pretends he doesn’t notice how Steve picks it up with seemingly no effort.

“Alright, watch this. I was just warming up before.”

“Oh, now he’s really playing,” Eddie mutters to Robin, who snickers.

Steve lines up, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he focuses. He strides forward, arm swinging back, and lets the ball fly. This time, it’s actually good. The ball rolls straight, clipping the front pin and scattering the rest in a satisfying clatter.

“Holy shit, Harrington. You actually did it.” Robin blinks, eyebrows raised.

Steve turns back around, grinning triumphantly, and for a second, just a second, he forgets to hide it. He fist-pumps the air, eyes bright with excitement, looking like a goddamn kid who just won his first game of tag.
Eddie feels his heart stutter, like the stupid thing missed a step. He forces himself to roll his eyes, leaning back against the chair dramatically.

“Great, now I gotta hear about this for the rest of my life.”

Steve just smirks, dropping down next to Robin. “Better start preparing, Munson.”

Robin pats Steve on the shoulder. “He’ll be signing autographs by the end of the night.”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. He watches the way Steve relaxes around Robin, how he lets the edges soften and the bravado fade, and it’s...nice. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, really. Steve Harrington is a million things, some good, some less so, well, back in the day, mostly not good, but with Robin, he’s just Steve. And maybe that’s what trips Eddie up. Because it’s genuine. Real. Not the cool, detached guy from high school, but the one who laughs a little too hard at stupid jokes and fist-pumps when he knocks down pins.
Part of him wishes he would just be Steve around him.

Eddie swallows, turning his gaze back to the pins. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. But then Steve looks over at him, still grinning, and Eddie’s stomach flips like he’s just been shoved off a cliff.

He scrambles to fill the silence. “Hey, Harrington, you think you could actually break double digits this time?”

Steve scoffs. “I’m getting a strike next round. Watch me.”

“Oh, I’m watching,” Eddie teases, ignoring the flutter in his chest. He leans back in his seat, legs kicked out in front of him, and smiles. “I’m watching real close.”

Steve raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. He just watches Robin as she stands, stretching her arms out as she goes to pick up her own ball.

—-

The neon sign for Benny’s Diner flickers above them, humming softly as Steve swings the car into the lot. It’s the kind of place that probably hasn’t changed since the sixties; red vinyl booths, checkered floors, a jukebox in the corner that nobody actually uses. It’s also one of the only places still open after nine, and Eddie can already feel his stomach growling at the thought of greasy fries and a milkshake.

Steve kills the engine and unbuckles, stretching his arms over his head. “Alright, let’s feast.”

Robin makes a face as she climbs out. “You said that like it’s gonna be gourmet.”

Steve just shrugs, slamming his door shut. “Hey, sometimes a greasy burger’s exactly what you need.”

Eddie hops out of the back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That’s what i’ve been trying to tell you, Harrington.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Maybe I don’t want to listen to the guy who lives off gas station burritos.”

“Hey, they’re cost-efficient and delicious,” Eddie defends, following them inside, and pretends not to care about the fact that they think he chooses to live like he does.

The little bell above the door jingles, and the warm smell of fried food and coffee hits them. The place is mostly empty, save for a couple of truckers nursing mugs of coffee in the corner. They snag a booth near the window, vinyl creaking beneath them as they settle in.

It’s not even two minutes before their waitress strolls over, all blonde curls and cherry lipstick. She’s got a notepad tucked under her arm and a smile that looks like she’s practiced it in the mirror.

“Well, hey there,” she says. Her eyes flicker straight to Steve. “What can I get y’all tonight?”

Steve leans back, slinging his arm over the back of the booth, looking as comfortable as if he owned the place.

“I’ll take a burger, fries, and a chocolate shake,” he says smoothly. “And maybe your name?”

Eddie tries not to roll his eyes so hard they get stuck. Of course. Of course Harrington’s pulling out the charm. Eddie’s seen it in action before, but it still gets under his skin for reasons he’s definitely not gonna analyse right now.

The waitress giggles, actually giggles, and tucks her hair behind her ear. “It’s Kate,” she says, scribbling down his order. “And what about you two?”

Robin leans forward, expression flat. “Grilled cheese. And a Coke. Thanks.” Her voice is so deadpan that Eddie has to bite back a laugh.

Kate doesn’t seem fazed, turning her smile to him. “And you?”

For half a second, he forgets how to talk. He stumbles back to reality, clearing his throat. “Uh, yeah. Burger, fries, vanilla shake.”

“You got it,” she says, tossing a glance back at Steve before heading off to the counter.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Robin snorts.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington. That was embarrassing to watch.”

“What? She’s cute.” Steve shrugs, leaning back even further, if that was even possible.

“She’s also practically drooling on the table,” Robin mutters, wiping at a pretend spot. “I can’t believe you still do this.”

“Do what?” Steve protests. “Talk to people? Be nice?”

Eddie’s jaw is clenched so hard he might break a tooth. He can still hear her giggling in his head. Christ, how pathetic. He swallows it down, forces a smirk onto his face.

“That wasn’t being nice, Harrington. That was you tripping over yourself because she batted her eyes at you.”

Steve looks amused. “Jealous, Munson?”

Eddie’s laugh comes out a little too sharp. “Oh yeah, real heartbroken. I was already picking out the wedding invitations.”

Robin snorts, and Steve just shakes his head, grinning like he’s got a secret. Eddie pointedly ignores the feeling twisting up his gut and shoves his hands deeper into his jacket pockets.

He’s not jealous. That’s not what this is. Just because Steve’s got that stupid, easy charm and that perfect hair and that dumb grin that makes Eddie’s heart do stupid things, that doesn’t mean anything. It’s just...residual feelings or something. Just some sort of weird attachment thing from Steve dragging his ass out of the Upside Down. Right. That’s all it is. Gratitude or whatever. That’s why his heart kicks up when Steve smiles. Why he keeps glancing at the way Steve’s fingers drum against the table like he’s got music stuck in his head.

It’s definitely not because he’s got a stupid, hopeless crush on the guy. Definitely not.

Eddie Munson could not afford to get a crush on Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

The food comes quicker than Eddie expects, and Kate’s smile is just as wide when she sets their plates down, lingering a little too long when she slides Steve’s milkshake in front of him.

“Enjoy, handsome,” she says, practically purring.

Robin makes a gagging noise as soon as she’s out of earshot, slapping her hand over her mouth in mock disgust. Steve kicks her under the table.

“Would you quit?” he hisses, but he’s laughing.

“Not a chance,” Robin shoots back, shoving half of her grilled cheese into her mouth. “If I have to suffer, so do you.”

Eddie’s already halfway through his burger, watching the two of them banter back and forth, and he’s struck, just for a moment, by how...easy it is. This, them. He’s never quite fit like this before, well, with people his own age. They bicker and poke and prod, but there’s no venom in it. Just laughter. Just warmth.

He takes a long pull from his milkshake and tries not to grin when Steve flips Robin off, all while she’s mimicking Kate’s breathy voice.

“‘Oh Steve, you look so strong! Can you lift me up? I bet you could bench press me!’”

“Shut up,” Steve groans, but he’s laughing, his head thrown back, hair falling out of place.

Eddie watches, and his heart does that stupid, awful flip again. He buries it with a mouthful of fries, trying desperately not to think about how good Steve looks when he laughs, how nice it feels to be part of it.

The plates are mostly empty, smeared ketchup and crumbs the only evidence left of their late-night feast. Eddie leans back in the booth, fingers laced behind his head, legs stretched out under the table. Robin’s picking at the last of her fries, flicking them across her plate in what looks like some sort of pattern, while Steve is flipping idly through the menu, like he’s actually considering ordering more. Eddie’s about to make a crack about King Steve’s bottomless pit of a stomach when the familiar click of heels approaches their table.

Their waitress, Kate, sidles up with that same syrupy smile.

“Can I get you boys anything else?” she asks sweetly, her eyes locked firmly on Steve like he’s the only one who exists.

Steve leans back, that damn charming grin slipping back onto his face. “Actually,” he says, voice dropping just a little, all casual-like. “I was looking at the menu, but I couldn’t find your number on here.”

Kate giggles, actually giggles, like he just told the world’s funniest joke. Eddie nearly chokes on the sip of milkshake he just took, covering it up with a cough as Robin slumps back in her seat, expression flat with disbelief.

“Oh my God,” she mutters under her breath, low enough that only Eddie catches it.

Kate, oblivious or just not caring, reaches up to pluck the pen from behind her ear.

“Well, I can fix that for you,” she says, leaning over the table to scribble her number onto a napkin, her hair brushing Steve’s arm as she does. Eddie watches her hand glide over the paper, looping neat little numbers in blue ink, and he hates it. Hates the way Steve smiles up at her when she slides the napkin his way, hates the way she winks at him before she straightens up and tucks the pen back behind her ear.

“There you go,” she purrs. “Call me sometime.”

Steve’s grin only widens. “Oh, I definitely will.”

Eddie stares at the napkin for a second too long before forcing his eyes away, back to his hands, which are twisting the edge of his flannel. Robin catches his gaze and makes a face, dramatic and pained, and it’s enough to make him snort. She rolls her eyes, miming gagging behind Kate’s back. Eddie doesn’t have it in him to laugh. His stomach twists unpleasantly, and it’s not from the greasy burger.

It’s the way Steve looked at her. That easy grin, all warm and confident. The way she batted her eyelashes and giggled like he’d just said the smoothest thing on Earth. Eddie wants to think it’s just his distaste for Steve’s cheesy flirting, he’s always thought that was dumb, right? But his brain is whispering something cruel and sharp that he’s desperately trying to shut out. It’s dawning on him, slow and painful, that he wants Steve to look at him like that. That he wants Steve’s eyes on him, warm and focused, grinning like Eddie’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Nope. No. Disgusting. Stop it, Eddie. He nearly rubs his palms against his eyes to scrub the thought out. That’s not- that’s not what this is. It’s gratitude. Debt. It’s leftover adrenaline. It’s not...that. It can’t be.

But the feeling doesn’t go away. If anything, it digs deeper, like a splinter beneath his ribs.

Kate disappears back behind the counter, and Steve folds the napkin neatly, sliding it into his jacket pocket.

“She was nice,” he says casually, like he didn’t just steal her entire heart with a couple of words.

Robin raises both eyebrows. “Nice? I think you mean ‘desperately in need of glasses,’ because I’m pretty sure she was just flirting with the world’s biggest doofus.”

Steve just shrugs, completely unaffected. “Maybe she likes doofuses.”

“Maybe she likes brain damage,” Robin counters, and Eddie manages to laugh at that, if only because it’s Robin and she’s impossible not to laugh at. But his gaze keeps slipping back to Steve, who’s just lounging there like he didn’t just set Eddie’s brain on fire.

They don’t linger long. Steve insists on paying for everything, waving off Eddie’s attempt to fish around in his pockets for a crumpled five.

“I got it,” Steve says simply, already pulling out his wallet. Kate reappears just in time to take the cash, smiling sweetly at him as she rings them up.

Eddie watches the exchange, forcing his expression to stay neutral. Steve doesn’t even blink, just hands over the money and thanks her with that same stupid grin. Eddie’s stomach twists again, a little harder this time. He assumes Steves doing it to show off, to flaunt to the cute waitress that he has money. But it’s not the first time he’s done that. And Eddie starts to wonder if Steve does it out of pity. The thought slips in, unbidden. King Steve with his nice car and his big empty house, feeling bad for poor Eddie Munson, living in a trailer park and dealing drugs to make ends meet. It made him feel sick.

But what was worse, was the possibility that Steve was just doing it to be nice.

The thought makes Eddie’s jaw clench, his hands curling into fists in his jacket pockets. He forces a grin back onto his face when Steve turns around, completely oblivious to the storm swirling inside Eddie’s head.

“You always pay for other people’s food, Harrington? Or just the ones you feel bad for?”

Steve just looks at him, brows knitted. “What? Dude, it’s just dinner. Lighten up.”

Eddie laughs, but it’s forced. “Yeah. Right. Lighten up.”

Steve doesn’t seem to catch the strain in his voice, just claps him on the shoulder as they head out into the parking lot. Eddie follows, jaw tight and heart a mess of things he refuses to look at too closely.

He climbs into the back seat again, Robin calling shotgun before he even has a chance to protest. Steve slides into the driver’s seat, turning the engine over with a low rumble. Eddie stares out the window as they pull away, watching the neon lights of Benny’s disappear into the darkness behind them.

Eddies left sitting there wondering if he might actually be a little jealous.

Chapter Text

Eddie Munson had made a terrible discovery.

As if his sad, pathetic life couldn’t get any worse.

He thinks he maybe has a tiny crush on Steve Harrington.

And it may be the end of the world.

It happens a lot. Getting stupid crushes on straight guys. It’s going to. He’s gay. And the gay population of Hawkins pretty much consists of him and Robin. Well, that’s not strictly true. There’s been a few. Such as Danny Fredricks. But none of them seemed to be normal, functioning people. Eddie has to travel outside of Hawkins and sneak into some underground bar or club when he wants to get some use out of that handkerchief in his back pocket. But that didn’t mean he liked any of them. Not really. The guys he has liked have pretty much been straight. Such as George Carter, the guy on the hockey team who was nice to him that one time in junior year.

He’d gotten pretty good at pushing it down and ignoring it until it had gone away.

That was easy when he didn’t have to see or talk to them all the time.

This was Steve Harrington. This was his friend (apparently).

Yeah, for a good while he’d managed to convince himself the fact he felt all good and happy and smiley around Steve Harrington was because the charming, admirably brave, handsome guy had saved his life.

Maybe he knew all along. Maybe he subconsciously knew it was a terrible idea and just ignored it.

Maybe he knew before that, in the upside down, when he was left alone with Steve Harrington, and he wasn’t the guy who called him a slur in highschool, he was the guy Dustin Henderson told him he was. Funny, caring, annoyingly, stupidly brave. When he watched Steve bite into a demobat like he was fucking Ozzy Osborne. When he felt a pang of annoyance, maybe jealousy, deep in his chest when he was obviously flirting with Nancy Wheeler the whole time. When he threw his jacket at him just so they’d stop. When he felt a little funny about Steve Harrington wearing his jacket.

God fucking damn it he was such an idiot.

Now he’s faced it, accepted it, looked himself in the mirror and muttered ‘I-Like-Steve-Harrington’ until he smacked his head against it, he’s got to figure out what he’s gonna do about it.

Nothing. That’s what.

But what sort of nothing?

Stop going to Family video until this dies down? Well, then he wouldn’t be able to see Robin, now school’s over. He couldn’t exactly avoid the guy like the plague, they have the same friends, really. And it’s Hendersons birthday coming up, and he’s pretty sure he’s making Steve hold a party at his house. Steve Harrington was unavoidable.

So, option two, then.

Push it down and pray.

Pretend everythings fine, that nothing bothers him, as he usually does, and probably be a little mean to Steve, until he’s buried it down so far he can forget it’s there.

And pray that he doesn’t do anything stupid. That he doesn’t fuck this up. His life’s finally looking up. He can’t ruin it now.

Eddie digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans. He sits up, and his shitty, broken bed creeks, his back aching a little from his awful mattress, and he looks down at the big ugly scar on his thigh, still red and angry, a tear in his flesh.

He clenches his eyes shut and tries not to think about the fact that he would’ve bled out and dyed a satanic murderer who never graduated in a different dimension if it wasn’t for Steve.

He gets up, and puts on his jeans that are too small and ripped at the knees that he pretends is for fashion and not because he can’t afford or be bothered to get new pants, and his hellfire shirt.

“Mornin’,” Wayne grunts at him as he walks into the tiny kitchen in their trailer, the one that had a barely repaired hole in the roof.

The one where Eddie had watched a girl die.

“Morning,” He replies groggily. “What’s on the menu?” He asks, leaning against the counter, watching his uncle fry something in a pan.

“Eggs on slightly stale toast.” He says with a small grin. Eddie makes an exaggerated hum of approval.

“Delicious.” He says, opening the fridge and taking checking the sell by date on the milk and inspecting it before taking a swig straight out the carton. “We got any butter?”

“No, but we got some of that margarine stuff.” Wayne shrugs, not looking at him.

“That’ll do.” Eddie smiles.

—-

Eddie stabs his fork into egg and bread that's toasted enough you can’t tell it went out of date two days ago.

“Got any plans today?” His uncle asks, glancing up from his own plate.

“Yeah, gonna go into town and try give some places my resume and see if they read past my name,” He smirks. Wayne gives him a tiny pitying look.

“You’ll find somewhere eventually, son.” Wayne says as softly as Wayne goes, before adding, “You better brush that damn hair before you do, though, or you’ll scare ‘em off before you even get a chance to hand it to them.”

Eddie scoffs.

“I’d buzz it again if it meant I'd get a gig that wasn’t…” He trailed off. Wayne knew what he did. That doesn’t mean they had to talk about it.

Wayne just gives him a glance and nods understandingly.

——

Eddie sighs, parking Waynes' van in the parking lot of some deserted store at the far end of town.

He stared at the stack of paper in his passenger seat.

Last weekend, he’d gone to every place in the mall.

He hated it.

Not because he was lazy and didn’t want a job. He’d give anything for the monotony of a 9-5 after everything, even though he’d probably get bored after a week. And he needed the money, he needed to contribute more, for Wayne. He needed to save, to get the fuck out of this dumbass town.
It’s not because he hated the idea of contributing to capitalist society and conforming to societal norms or some activist bullshit, that he’d rather stay on the edge of society instead of striving for the American Dream, and smoke weed in a van for the rest of his life like a hippie.

It’s because it was fucking embarassing.

You wouldn’t think Eddie Munson gets embarrassed. The guy who stood on tables in the cafeteria and shouted at people, the guy who was so extroverted he’d make an idiot of himself in front of anyone if he thought it’d be funny.

It was embarrassing because now he's the washed up high school freak turned satanist and suspected murderer and everyone looked at him funny, not because they thought he was weird or below them, but because they thought he hurt people. And there he was, trying to get a job at a shoe store like he deserved to be a part of society. Like he deserved to live a normal life after what they think he’s done.

Eddie was tired of explaining to people that he didn’t murder Chrissy in some satanic ritual. Tired of reliving the worst moment of his entire life over and over, just so someone would pay him minimum wage to stock shelves or clean floors.

So, he’s not going to.

Not today.

So he gets out the car, leaving the stack of printed out resumes, and hopped out the van, already digging into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes as he slams the door behind him.

He lights one, using the side of the vehicle to block the little summer breeze, and takes a drag.

Well. Now he has all morning to kill.

——

The bell above the door jingles as Eddie steps into the record store, the familiar musk of dust and old vinyl wrapping around him like a blanket. It’s not busy, never is, really, just a couple of guys flipping through the rock section and some girl browsing the pop aisle, popping her gum and swaying her hips to the beat of whatever’s crackling through the speakers. Fleetwood Mac, maybe. Eddie’s not paying enough attention to care.

The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as he makes his way to the metal section, fingertips grazing over cracked spines and fading covers. Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Dio… His fingers pause on a copy of Heaven and Hell, and he pulls it out with a reverence usually reserved for holy relics. The cover is vibrant, angels smoking and gambling, wings stretched wide. Eddie turns it over in his hands, studying the tracklist for the thousandth time like it might change.

“You gonna keep staring at it or actually buy it this time?”

Eddie startles, glancing up. The girl behind the register is watching him, leaning over the counter with her chin resting in her hand. She’s got a nose piercing, a silver hoop that catches the light, and heavy black eyeliner that wings out like she’s ready for war. Her name tag reads Vera, scrawled in black sharpie with a tiny skull doodled next to it.

“Hey, I’m just appreciating the artwork,” he fires back, slipping the record back into its place. “Besides, I’m more of a window shopper. Strictly look, don’t touch.”

Vera arches a brow, unconvinced. “You’ve been looking at that same Sabbath record for three months, Munson.”

“Oh?” He steps away from the shelf, hands spreading wide. “You keepin’ tabs on me now?”

She shrugs, popping her gum with a crack. “Hard not to. You’re kind of hard to miss.”

Eddie’s grin falters just a little, remembering that it’s gonna be a long time until he can walk the streets and just be some random guy. He’s gotten used to it, mostly. But here, surrounded by stacks of vinyl and old band posters curling at the corners, it’s almost easy to forget.

He saunters up to the counter, leaning against it with his elbows. “And what’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

“You’ve got big hair, Munson. Takes up, like, half the damn store.” She grins.

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, sharp and genuine.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He drums his hands against the counter, watching the silver dragon ring glint in the dim light, glancing back at the metal section. “One day, you’re gonna catch me buying that thing. And then what are you gonna do? Miss my company?”

She snorts. “Maybe. Gonna miss you coming in to sigh dramatically for half an hour before leaving.”

“Oh, you want drama? I can bring drama.” He leans in closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “How ‘bout this- I buy that record…today.”

Vera’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

Eddie reaches into his jacket pocket, fishing out a crumpled five, a handful of quarters, and two dimes. He counts it, brow furrowing. Vera watches him with an amused grin as he comes up short by…a lot. He shoves it back into his pocket with a dramatic sigh.

“Alright, maybe not today. But soon. You better be ready.”

“Oh, I’m shaking,” she deadpans, twirling a pen between her fingers.

Eddie opens his mouth to retort, but a group of teenagers shuffle past, cutting the space between them. They whisper behind cupped hands, eyes flicking to Eddie before quickly darting away. He straightens up, jaw clenching. He recognizes one of them from gym class a year ago. A sophomore now. He hears her name drift through their hushed voices, soft and sharp, and Eddie’s hands slip into his pockets, fingers curling tight.

Vera watches them go, gum snapping between her teeth. When they’re out of earshot, she flicks her gaze back to him.

“They’re assholes,” she says bluntly. “Just ignore ‘em.”

Eddie swallows, forces a grin back onto his face. “I always do.”

Vera just raises a brow with a smirk. She just taps the counter with her black-painted nails.

“Come back when you actually wanna buy something, weirdo. I’ll even throw in a staff discount.”

Eddie blinks at her, surprised. “Didn’t know I was on the VIP list.”

“I’m feeling nice.” Vera shrugs, smirking.

He laughs, nodding his head towards her.

“I’ll take you up on that. Promise.” He throws her a mock salute and backs out of the store, the bell above the door jingling as he goes.

As he steps back out onto the cracked pavement of Main Street, the whispers still linger, crawling at his back. But the comfort of someone talking to him like he’s just a normal guy, well, not normal, but just… not Hawkins public enemy number one, was enough to take the edge off.

He went around the stores for a while, bored, just browsing, grinning at people who give him funny looks, and slightly enjoying when he jeers his head forward and sticks his tongue out and they flinch.

He pocketed a few random things he wanted, or needed, like the off brand sleeve of Oreo’s he’d swiped from the grocery store, and was now halfway through eating.

It’s now around midday, when he’s walking down the quieter part of town, when some guy appears out an alleyway, staring him down. He looked not too much older than Eddie, with light brown hair and a broad build and an unreadable expression.

“Hey, Munson!” The guy calls. Eddie just narrows his eyes at him, already suspicious.

“What?” He calls back dryly.

The guy beckons him closer. Eddie doesn’t move. The guy looks annoyed.

“You got anything on you?” He asks, stepping forward and lowering his voice.

“What do you mean?” Eddie replies, raising a brow. Eddie knows what he means.

“Weed, man. Y’know.” He scoffs.

Eddie tilts his head.

“No, man. I’ve not got anything.” Lie. Eddie always had something.

“Dude, I'm not like, a cop or anything. Just, come on.” The guy says plainly, his voice edged with a growl. Then, he just tuts and spins on his heel, heading back to the alley.

Eddie takes a second to weigh up his choices. Then, he thinks about the fact he was supposed to find a job today, so the least he could do is make 20 bucks.

He sighs, before following this random guy into this alleyway.

The second he rounds the corner, he realises what an absolute fucking idiot he is.

The guy grabs him by the collar of the shirt, spins round and shoves him, hard, backward into the alley.

“Fucking murderer freak,” The guy spits at him as he regains his footing.

Great.

“I didn’t-“ He got cut off by a forceful punch to the jaw, a sick, dull crack echoing through the alley. Searing pain shoots through him. He thought he’d escaped this now he’d graduated high school.

Eddie staggers back.

“You think you can just walk around the streets after murdering that poor girl?” The guy steps forward again, and the pang of pain in Eddie’s chest hits harder than any punch.

“I didn’t fucking kill her.” He spits.

The guy sneers.

He grabs Eddie by the collar of the shirt again, throwing him against the brick wall.

“You sacrifice her to Satan or something, freak?” The guy hisses, before landing another blow to Eddies ribs, forcing the air out his lungs.

“I didn’t kill her.” He growls between panted breaths. He rolls his shoulders and rears back to hit this guy, but Eddie was never much of a fighter. He was a more close-his-eyes-until-its-over guy.

He gets shoved back again, this time the guy holding him there by his collar.

“You run a little cult full of queers, huh? Fuckin’ fag trying to corrupt the whole town?” He bites out, before reeling his fist back to swing again.

But the punch never connected.

The guy was thrown back by Steve fucking Harrington in his Family Video uniform grabbing this guy by the back of his jacket and throwing him backwards.

“The fuck’re you doing, man?” The guy barks out, before going to punch Steve, but Steve swings first.

A heavy punch spins the guys jaw, a punch that took all of Steve's body in motion, thats stupid green vest flying, and he’s thrown to the floor.

The guy scrambles to get up before Steve kicks him, hard, in the ribs.

Eddie’s heart was racing so hard he thought it might burst out his chest. What the fuck was happening? Where had Steve even- why is Steve Harrington saving his ass again? And why where his hands getting all sweaty?

With the guy floored for a good few seconds, Steve spins round and looks at Eddie, who’d just been standing there like an idiot, blood on his mouth from a split lip, watching.

Steve runs to him, grabs his arm, and then half runs half dragged him out that alley.

They were half way down the street when they slowed.

“I totally fuckin’ had that, dude.” Eddie breaths, a little out of breath.

Steve just shoots him a worried look.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and Eddie feels like he just got punched again.

He blinks at him.

“Yeah,” he says eventually. “I’m fine.”

Steve sighs, looking a mix of worried and relieved, and Eddies chest felt hot enough to bake a loaf of bread in it.

“What was that about?” He asks, brows furrowed in left over anger.

Eddie shrugs pathetically.

“Just some asshole who thinks i’m a queer satanist.” He says, just now cracking a grin, running his tongue over his teeth to clean any blood that might’ve been there.

Steve's gaze flickers down to his mouth and then back to his eyes. Out of concern, he knows. That didn’t mean he didn’t still feel his gut flutter like there was a violent mob of butterflies in it.

“Douchebag,” Steve mumbles, running a hand through his somehow ever perfect hair.

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Yeah.”

“You didn’t have that. At all. By the way.” Steve then remarks, starting to walk down the street again. Eddie scoffs.

“Totally did. I was just about to beat that guys ass before you got there.” He says matter-of-factly, quickening his pace to catch up to Steve, who just side eyes him.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.” He says, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Wouldn’t hurt to say thanks, though.”

Eddie furrows his brows as he feels humiliation thrum through him. He looks down at the cracked pavement.

“Thanks.” He mumbles. “Becoming a bit of a liability to you, aren’t I?” He smirks to himself, trying to play it off. Steve lets him.

“Nah,” He says, shooting him a full grin now. “I like saving your ass. Makes me feel great about myself.” Eddie snorts.

“Yeah, like you need your ego boosted any more.” He teases, leaning in a little to make Steve roll his eyes.

“I’ll have you know my ego is very fragile.” Steve raises his brows, trying not to smile, but when Eddie does that stupid laugh he does when he finds something genuinely funny, Steve breaks into a grin.

They keep walking, Eddie blindly following, now realising they’re heading to Family Video.

“What are you even doing here, anyway?” Eddie asks, barely glancing at Steve because he’s afraid his heart might crawl out his mouth. Or he’ll fall to his knees and beg Steve to let him suck him off.

Gross, Munson.

“I’m on break,” Steve says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Was heading to the store across the street, you know the one that does the slurpees?”

Eddie nods, smirking a little.

“Yeah, then I heard some shit going on, so I looked, and then it was you getting your ass kicked-“

“I was not getting my ass kicked,” Eddie corrects. “I’ve had my ass kicked, sweetheart. That was not that.” Steve laughs.

“Alright, whatever.” He grins as they turn round the corner, Family Video coming into sight.

The bell jingles above the door as they enter, and Robin, working week days now its summer, barely looks up.

“You’re back already?” She asks dryly. “Does that mean I can go on-“ She trails off, looking up fully to see Eddie. She smiles. Then, her smile falters.

“Eddie? You alright?” She asks, voice dropping into concern as she narrows her eyes. Eddie grins at her.

“Right as rain, Buckley.”

Steve scoffs, but he’s smiling.

“Alright, tough guy.” Steve walks off towards the counter, turning to Robin. “And no, my breaks not over yet, but i’m taking it in the storeroom.”

He waves his hand once, gesturing for Eddie to follow, and Eddie does, because he’s not entirely sure his brains caught up to what’s happening.

Robin shoots him a concerned glance and he just smiles and shrugs at her, before Harrington leads them into the back behind the counter, and then into the store room.

“Am I allowed to be back here?” Eddie asks skeptically, taking in the small room with shelves of dusty boxes. Steve gives him a dry look.

“When have you cared what you’re allowed to do or not?” He asks plainly, turning to face him then.

“When have you not?” Eddie retorts, but Steves just looking at him, brows furrowing.

He takes a step forward, which is all he needs in this cramped room to be a foot in front of Eddie, and he can smell Steve's dumb, musky, expensive cologne. He probably gets a lot of girls with that alone.

“You sure you okay?” He asks, eyes flickering down again. “Your lips really bleeding.”

He reaches a hand out, about to seemingly take Eddie's chin between his fingers and his thumb, either to inspect the damage or wipe away blood. Eddie didn’t feel like finding out.

He instinctively flinches away, out of reach.

“Yeah, i’m fine,” He says flatly. “Seen worse.”

Steve just lowers his hand, looking unconvinced.

“You can clean up in the staff toilets.” He offers. Eddies trying to calm his wildly beating heart.

“Alright. Thanks.” He gets out before stepping back, pushing the door open and backing out the storeroom.

He turns to the other door close by, and opens it, stepping into the staff bathroom.

He inspects himself in the mirror, his lip split and bleeding, a throbbing pain he’s been ignoring in his chin and mouth.

He sighs, grabbing a handful of the shitty toilet paper, before running it under the sink, and cleaning the blood off his mouth.

After that, he cups his hands under the tap, and washes it over his face, trying to wash away the heat in his face.

Steve Harrington had just saved his ass. Again.

Steve Harrington had just beat up a guy in an alley, no questions asked, seemingly with ease.

The image of him swinging his entire body into a punch and flooring a guy with a sick thud is burned into his mind.

He’d never seen anything hotter in his life.

Steve was badass. And brave. And shamelessly loyal. And had just protected him like he cared. Like the fact someone had picked a fight with Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson had really pissed him off.

And, Christ, he looked good doing it.

Eddie was royally fucked.

He stood in the bathroom a while longer, lingering on the thought that Steve must think he’s a pathetic loser who can’t save his own ass for shit, before sighing again and leaving the bathroom.

He’s met with Robin Buckley leaning against the counter and looking at him in concern.

“Steve told me what happened,” she says, almost softly.

Eddie glares at her.

“He tell you how I beat that guys ass while he watched in awe?” He says sarcastically, grinning a little now.

Robin laughs.

“Something like that.”

Eddie just shakes his head and goes to walk round from behind the counter, back into the main store. As he goes to get the fuck out of here.

Robin catches his arm.

“Wait,” She says, frowning again.

“What?”

“Stay for a bit,” she says carefully. “Hang out.”

Eddie gives her an annoyed look.

“What, got something better to do?” She smirks.

Eddie looks more annoyed.

“Maybe.”

Robin gives an exasperated sigh, and leans in a little.

“Just… stay for a bit, alright?” She asks, and Eddie's expression softens, raising a brow at her.

“That guys not gonna be lurking out there waiting for me to come back.” He says plainly.

Robin sorta rolls her eyes.

“I know.” She says, before glancing towards the store room door, before quietly adding, “But Steve’ll get all worried and freaked out that he might be.”

Eddie’s hands went all clammy again as his body warmed up, and the twist in his guy tightened.

Steve? Worried? About him?

He looks away from Robin, not able to meet her eye anymore.

“Alright,” he says reluctantly. “Whatever.”

He steps back, making Robin let go of his arm, and she offers him a small smile, which he barely makes an effort to return.

Chapter Text

Eddie shot up in bed in a cold sweat, his chest heaving as he panted breaths.

His thin bed sheets bunched around his waist, and he could feel the springs in his mattress poking into his ass.

Nightmare.

Another one.

Ever since the upside down, he’s had one pretty much every night. Minus the nights he’s fallen asleep too high to form a coherent thought.

He slows his breath, and runs a hand through his knotted hair. He swallows, and it's hard and dry and uncomfortable.

4:34am, the time reads on his little digital watch.

He blinks groggily, before reaching over to his cluttered bedside table, for the glass of water that's lukewarm and definitely been there too long, and takes 3 big gulps, and it's somehow refreshing.

He tries to go back to sleep. He swears he tries. Laying there in his bed for about an hour, in a cycle of closing his eyes, and then staring at his ceiling. But his bed feels too empty and cold, and he feels too empty and cold, and his body just can’t shut down again. After he sees the first rays of sun creep through his blinds, he sighs, sitting up again, officially giving up.

He switches on the small lamp he has on his overcrowded bedside table, and reaches down on his floor for his book. The Once and Future King by T.H White.

He cracks it open on a page he’d used a random receipt as a bookmark, and reads until about 6:45.

That’s when he ventures out of bed and heads to the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of stale cheerios and miraculously in-date milk.

He keeps reading as he eats, spilling little splotches of milk onto the pages, and about five minutes later, Wayne comes out his own room.

“You’re up early,” he grumbles, filling the kettle in the sink.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Eddie responds around a mouthful of cheerios.

Wayne shoots him a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything as he puts the kettle on the hob and lights the gas.

Eddie makes the smart decision to not speak to Wayne any more before the guy has his coffee.

Wayne spoons instant coffee into an old mug, and switches the hob off as the kettle whistles, before pouring the hot water into his mug.

“You better’ve left me some of that milk, boy.” He mumbles, mostly to himself. Eddie huffs a laugh.

“I didn’t drown my cereal,” he says, as Wayne inspects how much milk they have left, before pouring some in his coffee.

About 20 minutes later, Wayne had changed into his work uniform, and re-emerged from his room.

“Got any plans for today, kid?” He asks as he takes Eddies now empty bowl and puts it in the sink next to the empty mug.

Eddie shrugs.

“Think i’m seein’ some of the Hellfire guys,” he says, not looking up from his book. “Oh, and i’ve got Corroded Coffin practice tonight.”

Wayne hums and nods.

“You in for dinner?” He asks, picking up his van keys.

“Don’t know. I’ll call.” Eddie offers him a small smile.

Wayne just nods, and goes to leave.

“Have a good day.” Eddie calls. Wayne huffs a laugh, and Eddie hears the trailer door shut behind him.

Wayne didn’t have breakfast.

Eddie hates that.

Waynes done it a lot over the years, mostly when Eddie was younger, too young to notice or to care. But eventually he did. And he felt guilty, so he’d refused to eat unless Wayne did. It got better. They got better. Mostly after Eddie started dealing and they had a little more money for groceries. But Wayne had started doing it again, after the upside down.

The repairs to the trailer had been expensive. Eddie’s health care had been very expensive. Things were tight, and Waynes priority is Eddie.

And Eddie hated that. He hated being a liability. All he’s ever been is a liability.

——

“C’mon, weirdo, Lucas is gonna be here any minute!” Max Mayfield banged on his trailer door.

Max Mayfield, the girl who lives a few trailers down from Eddie, and who had survived Vecnas curse, had gotten a little closer with Eddie since everything.

It wasn’t only that when Max came back home from hospital that he promised to a very worried Lucas Sinclair that he’d keep an eye on her, it was that Eddie felt a little protective of her. She had survived. She had been saved from what he couldn’t save the girl who died in his living room from.

Eddie bursts out the door of his trailer, almost throwing the girl backwards off the steps, and grins at her.

She glares at him.

“Well? How do I look?” He says, flicking his hair over his shoulder and slamming the door behind him, locking it.

“About as awful as you always do,” she snides back, but theres a ghost of a smile on her face.

“Perfect.” Eddie sighs, putting his hands on his hips.

Just then, Lucas Sinclair pulls up in the car he’s borrowed from his dad, going almost painfully slow, as he’d only recently passed his test.

Eddie catches the small smile on Max’s face as she bounds over to the car.

She swings open the passenger door and hops in, already complaining.

“You’re late.” She says.

“By two minutes!” He retorts, but he’s smiling.

God, they were cute.

Eddie practically throws himself in the backseat.

“Hey, Sinclair, think you can drive a little faster? I don’t have all year.” He teases, grinning.

“Like you’ve got anywhere else to be,” he rolls his eyes, starting the engine. “And put your seatbelt on!”

——

The gravel crunches under Lucas’s tires as he pulls into the parking lot of the old strip mall, engine sputtering a bit before he kills it.

“I swear this thing’s on its last legs,” he mutters, smacking the dashboard for good measure.

“It’s a miracle it got us here at all.” Max snorts from the passenger seat, already unbuckling.

Eddie, lounging lazily in the backseat with his boots propped up against the window, grins.

“Hey, don’t disrespect the chariot. Got us here in one piece, didn’t it?”

Lucas just rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as they all pile out of the car. Max is already a few paces ahead, boots clacking against the pavement. Eddie jogs to catch up, slinging an arm around her shoulders with a dramatic flourish.

“And where’s our fearless party, Red?”

“Late. As usual.” Max shrugs him off with a scoff.

The rumbling of an engine cuts her off, and sure enough, Jonathan’s beat-up car pulls around the corner, rolling to a stop right in front of them. The passenger door swings open first, Mike practically leaping out before the car even settles.

“Finally!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

Will steps out a bit more cautiously, waving at Max and Lucas, and then offering Eddie a shy smile. Eddie gives him a two-fingered salute back.

Jonathan’s window rolls down, and Nancy leans across the console, her sunglasses perched on top of her head.

“You guys good?” she asks, scanning the group like a mom doing a headcount.

“Just peachy, Wheeler,” Eddie replies, sauntering up to the open window and leaning his elbows on the doorframe. He nods at Jonathan. “Keeping her out of trouble?”

Jonathan grins lazily. “I try.”

“You guys aren’t going to burn the town down, right?” Nancy rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

Eddie gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Who, me? I’m practically a saint, Wheeler.”

“Right.” Nancy just raises an eyebrow.

Eddie grins and leans in a little closer. “So, where are you two lovebirds off to? Romantic stroll through the junkyard? Or maybe a candlelit dinner at Benny’s?”

Nancy laughs, shaking her head. “We’re going to the farmer’s market, actually.”

“Ooh, vegetables and fresh jam. How riveting,” Eddie teases, waggling his eyebrows.

Jonathan chuckles, and Nancy just gives him a little shove. “At least we have plans, Munson.”

“Touché.” Eddie leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, you two lovebirds better skedaddle before Harrington shows up.”

Nancy leans over and smacks him lightly on the arm. “Oh my God, you’re never gonna get over it, are you?”

“Hey, you’re the one that did that. It’s not my fault your taste in men has drastically improved,” Eddie replies with a wink at Jonathan, who gives him a little salute back.

Jonathan shakes his head, amused. “We’ll see you guys later, alright?”

Nancy rolls up the window halfway, and then pauses. “And Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t corrupt them too much.”

He laughs, stepping back from the car. “No promises!”

Jonathan waves as they pull out of the lot, and Eddie watches them go, still leaning against the invisible weight of their conversation. He’s still grinning when he hears it—the smooth purr of a familiar engine, the one he’d been (sort of) dreading.

He turns just in time to see Steve Harrington’s car pull in, spotless as ever, with Dustin in the passenger seat, already waving wildly.
He watches Steve lecture Dustin on something, and Dustin roll his eyes and argue back. He smirks. Then, Steve gets out of the car. Shit.

Steve wasn’t part of their plan. They were going to the arcade where they had a new machine Mike seemed real excited about, and Eddie was here mostly for babysitting, but also because he didn’t really have any other friends. Well, ones that he hung out with. And Dustin had seemed very insistent when he asked him to come, and, well, who was he to refuse that cute little face?

Steve puts his hands on his hips, and seems to scan them, mirroring Nancy’s little headcount. Eddie grins.

“Steve? Are you hanging with us?” Little Wheeler asks almost skeptically. Steve scoffs.

“No.” He says plainly, and annoyingly, Eddie’s heart sinks a little. “Meeting someone here.”

“Yeah, Steves got a date. Some waitress he’s somehow bribed to hang out with him.” Dustin snorts, and Steves lightly whacks him over the head.

Eddie raises a brow.

“The one from Benny’s?” He asks, a small, teasing grin on his face, even though his body seems to be screaming in envy.

Steve sighs.

“Yeah.”

Eddie laughs.

“Wait, you know the girl?” Dustin asks enthusiastically, turning to Eddie. “Is she really cute? Does she actually like Steve?”

Steve gives Eddie a little glare, thats half pleading. Eddie’s grin just widens.

“Oh, real cute, Henderson.” He says, stepping forward, then turning to Steve and studying him. “And real into Steve,” He continues, voice dropping teasingly. “Practically drooling over that handsome face.” He tilts his head, reaching up and messing up Steve's perfect hair, which is annoyingly soft, and Eddie thinks he wouldn’t have ever taken his hand out if Steve didn’t veer backwards, sneering at him.

Steve runs his hands through his hair in a desperate attempt to fix it. Dustin laughs. Eddie's eyes don’t move from Steve.

“Hands off the hair, Munson.” He mutters, and Eddie just huffs a little laugh.

“Can’t help it,” He says jokingly, but he thinks he might mean it, as he finally looks back at Dustin. “He’s just irresistible.”

Steve then shoves his shoulder, and Eddie yelps, Dustin seemingly finding this hysterical.

“Quit flirting, assholes, we’ve got places to be,” Mike calls, where he stood with his arms crossed with an amused looking Will, and Lucas and Max were a few feet away, Max laughing as Lucas looks at her like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Steve walks off towards the mall, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement, and Eddie and Dustin share a little grin before following, and they all start walking.

The neon glow of the arcade lights flicker against Eddie’s grin as he shoves his way through the entrance, holding the door open with a grand flourish. “Alright, little goblins, feast your eyes on paradise!”

Dustin practically sprints inside, nearly tripping over his own feet in his hurry to get to Dragon’s Lair, his absolute favorite.

“I call first go!” he yells back, waving his quarter triumphantly.

Max follows at a more relaxed pace, her skateboard tucked under her arm, eyes already zeroing in on Dig Dug. Lucas trails after her, hands in his pockets, pretending not to be interested until Max gives him a pointed look. He just shrugs and mutters something about Dig Dug being “alright.”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. He glances over his shoulder and sees Will and Mike trailing behind, heads close together, whispering about something he can’t quite hear. Mike’s gesturing wildly, and Will’s face is lit up in that soft, quiet way Eddie’s come to recognize. Will glances up, catches Eddie’s eye, and straightens a bit before giving him a shy nod.

“Not gonna join the chaos, Byers?” Eddie asks, falling into step with them.

Will’s hands twist together nervously, but he nods. “Oh, yeah. I just… gotta warm up first.”

“Warm up? For Pac-Man?” Mike teases, nudging him with his elbow.

“Hey, don’t mock the process,” Eddie interjects, wagging his finger dramatically. “I respect a man who takes his gaming seriously.”

Will cracks a smile at that, and Mike just rolls his eyes. They wander further in, the thrum of retro music and clattering of buttons filling the air. Eddie tries to soak it all in; the flashing screens, the smell of old carpet and buttered popcorn, the shrieks of triumph and groans of defeat. It’s pure, unfiltered joy in this place.

But underneath it all, there’s this faint, nagging itch in his brain.
Harrington. On a date. With her.

Kate, with her perfect smile and fluttery laugh. Kate, with her dainty handwriting on that stupid napkin. Eddie had barely glanced at it when Steve slipped it into his pocket with a grin, but it felt like a punch to the gut. He knew it was irrational, hell, Steve was Steve. He flirted like it was breathing.

But the idea of him sitting in some shiny booth right now, probably ordering a milkshake with two straws, grates on Eddie more than he wants to admit.

He swallows hard and slaps on a grin. He’s got a party to entertain, after all.

“Alright, Henderson!” Eddie calls out, striding up to Dragon’s Lair where Dustin is now furiously mashing buttons. “You still suck at this game, or did you magically learn how to save the princess?”

Dustin scowls, tongue poking out the side of his mouth. “I’m getting better!” he insists, right before Dirk the Daring gets roasted alive by a dragon. The screen flashes GAME OVER, and Eddie bursts into loud, unapologetic laughter.

“Yep, real progress I’m seeing there, buddy.”

“Shut up.” Dustin shoves him, but he’s smiling too, and it’s enough to shake Eddie out of his spiraling thoughts. At least for now.

He glances back over his shoulder and sees Mike and Will hunched over a Galaga machine, shoulders practically pressed together. Will’s pointing out something on the screen, and Mike’s nodding along, a smile tugging at his lips. Eddie narrows his eyes, watching the way Will’s gaze lingers a little too long on Mike’s hands as they grip the controls.

Interesting.

He files that thought away for later, a smirk playing at his mouth.

He hadn’t known Byers long.

But when you are who Eddie is in the society they’re in, you get a pretty trained eye for picking people like him out in a crowd. He could sense it off Byers like a sniffer dog.

Could be wrong, though.

Maxleans against the Dig Dug machine, arms crossed as she watches Lucas fail miserably. She leans against the machine, raising an eyebrow.

“You know you’re supposed to actually win, right?”

Lucas huffs. “I’m just warming up.”

“That’s what Will said,” Eddie calls out, and Max laughs loudly, throwing her head back. Lucas just flips him off, and Eddie salutes him in return.

For a while, he forgets about it. Forgets about Harrington at some cozy booth with pretty little Kate and her perfect teeth. Forgets about the stupid ache in his chest that flares up every time he thinks about Steve doing anything with anyone that’s not...him.

Because he shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care. It’s just Steve. Straight as an arrow Steve. And Eddie wasn’t a girl.

The noise of the arcade drowns out his thoughts, at least for now, and Eddie laughs louder, shouts harder, despite the exhaustion creeping up in him, just to keep the burn in his chest from spreading.

“Hey, Munson!” Lucas shouts, waving him over. “You gonna play or what?”

Eddie grins, shaking his head. “Prepare to get your ass kicked, Sinclair.” He bounds over, shoving his way between Lucas and Max with dramatic flair. “Step aside, amateurs. Lemme show you how a real master handles this.”

It’s not even 20 minutes into being there that Eddie spots that stupid blue striped polo and that perfect hair leaning against a claw machine, talking to Henderson.

Curiosity piqued, he wander away from where he was teasing Mike for losing miserably at Pac Man, and over to them.

Steve looked unhappy. Frowning as Dustin grins at him.

“So you gonna hang out with us now? I can teach you how to play Frogger!” He offers enthusiastically. Steve just scoffs a laugh, glancing up to see Eddie.

“What happened to your date, man?” He asked with the most amount of nonchalance he could muster.

Dustin starts laughing again. Steve sighs and smacks him lightly.

“Go play your nerd games, idiot.” He mumbles.

“Hey! Not my fault you got stood up!” He bites back, still grinning. Steve gives a quick glance at Eddie, presumably in alarm because he just knows Munson’ll give him shit for this.

Eddie couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit relieved hearing this.

“I think it was. She probably saw me hang around with you and thought she couldn’t risk you being my brother.” He says dryly. “Now get outta here before you scare any more girls off.”

Dustin just huffs, before tutting and spinning on his heel.

Steve then looks up at Eddie, his expression grim as he prepares himself.

“You got stood up?” Eddie asks innocently.

“Yeah.” He mutters, looking away.

Now, Eddie has a very important decision to make. Give Steve Harrington the utmost shit for being stood up, because, frankly, it was sort of hilarious too see King Steve get stood up for a date, or, he could actually be nice.

Eddie shrugs.

“Maybe her grandma died or something.” He throws out casually, and steve gives him an incredulous look.

“What?” He asks like it’s the most stupid thing he’s ever heard. Eddie just gives him a small look that says you-never-know.

“Anything could’ve happened, man. I’m sure she’ll call you later.” He says casually, and Steve looks at him like he’s grown three heads for a second, before he sighs and looks away.

“I guess.”

“Hey, there must’ve been some terrible accident for YOU to get stood up,” Eddie leans in, tilting his head. “I mean, come on!” He exclaims, smacking a hand on Steves back and leaving it there. “You’re Steve Harrington.” He says dramatically, waving his other hand out like he’s displaying something to him as he steps back so he’s next to Steve.

Steve laughs. There we go.

“Didn’t take you for a fan, Munson.” He grins. Eddie raises a brow.

“You’re growing on me.” He retorts with a smile. His hand slides across Steve's shoulders, and he guides Steve forward. “Now, come on. You’ve got a date with me and a bunch of 16 year olds now.”

Harrington groans, but he’s smiling a little now.

And despite himself, despite knowing he should be trying with everything in him to push it down, he feels a little pang of happiness that Steve got stood up.

—-

The neon lights of the arcade cast a multicolored glow over Steve's hunched figure, his eyes narrowed with pure, undiluted concentration. His tongue pokes out at the corner of his mouth as he furiously taps the joystick, sweat beading on his brow like he’s in the middle of some life-or-death struggle.

“Left! No - no, the other left! God, dude, you’re worse at this than my grandma!” Dustin groans, throwing his hands in the air like he’s watching a tragedy unfold.

Steve curses under his breath as the little pixelated frog gets crushed by a speeding car for the fifth, no, sixth, time in a row. The machine blares out a mocking jingle, and the screen flashes GAME OVER in bright, unforgiving letters. Steve leans back with a defeated sigh, rubbing his face.

“I swear to God, this thing’s rigged.”

“It’s Frogger, Steve. It’s not exactly rocket science.” Dustin scoffs.

“Maybe not to you, Henderson,” Steve mutters, jamming another quarter into the slot. He’s already burned through way more than he’d intended, but it’s better than sulking about Kate standing him up.

From across the arcade, Eddie’s leaning against a Street Fighter machine with his arms crossed, chatting lazily with Mike and Lucas, who are taking turns fighting pixelated characters on screen. Mike’s losing horribly, and Lucas is laughing at him for it, but Eddie’s gaze keeps flicking over to the pathetic scene unfolding at Frogger.

He yawns while Lucas cheers as he wins a game, the tiredness from his shitty night sleep catching up with him quickly.

Steve looks… miserable. And as much as Eddie would love to chalk it up to karmic retribution for every smug grin Steve ever gave him in high school, it makes something in his gut stir.

He takes his shot. Pushing off the machine, he strides over, hands tucked into his pockets, and leans in close to Steve, enough to make the guy jump a little.

“You know, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs, voice low and conspiratorial, “I heard they’re playing Back to the Future over at the cinema.”

Steve’s hands pause on the joystick, and he glances up with those stupidly long eyelashes, blinking like he hadn’t even realized Eddie was there.

“Yeah?” he asks, a spark of interest lighting up his tired eyes.

Eddie shrugs, casual as anything.

“Yeah. Figured you might wanna get outta here. Dunno if Frogger’s really your style.” He nods to the blinking GAME OVER screen with a smirk.

“And Back to the Future is?” Steve huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

“I’ve heard it’s alright.” Eddie shrugs again, playing it off like his heart isn’t hammering in his chest. “Time travel, DeLoreans…some nerd shit, but kinda cool.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, but Eddie catches the tiny twitch of his lips, like he’s trying not to smile. Before Steve can say anything, though, Dustin, ever the thorn in Eddie’s side, pops up like he’s been summoned.

“That sounds awesome! I wanna come!” Dustin says, bouncing on his heels with that stupid grin of his.

Eddie gives him a look that should, by all accounts, incinerate him on the spot. But Dustin, oblivious as ever, just beams up at them, clearly thrilled with his own enthusiasm.

Eddie plasters on his best grin, even though internally he’s cursing every god he’s ever heard of. “Sure thing, Dusty. More the merrier, right?”

“Right!” Dustin chirps, absolutely clueless. He looks up at Steve, eyes bright. “Hey, we should get popcorn too! And nachos!”

Steve snorts. “You got money for all that, Henderson?”

Dustin blinks. “Well…no.”

Eddie just sighs, shaking his head.

“Of course you don’t.” He turns back to Steve, who’s now looking just a little bit amused. “Guess you’re footing the bill, Harrington.”

Steve grins, more genuine this time. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Eddie’s heart stutters at that grin. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets to hide the way his fingers twitch nervously.

“Come on then, let’s get outta here before I waste another quarter watching you frog-hop to your death.”

Steve just laughs, and Dustin starts talking a mile a minute about how cool the DeLorean is, already leading the charge out of the arcade. Eddie follows behind, his eyes lingering on the back of Steve’s head.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing shit like this. Putting himself in these situations. It’ll only make his stupid infatuation with Steve worse. But, hey. Why can’t he indulge himself a little, before pushing that feeling down?

Eddie, Steve, and Dustin push through the chaotic crowd of the arcade, neon lights and blaring game noises fading behind them. They find the others near the Galaga machine, where Lucas is completely schooling Mike, and Will's watching with a grin, arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey, losers!” Dustin calls out, waving dramatically like they hadn’t just seen each other two minutes ago. “Change of plans. We’re going to the cinema!”

Lucas's head snaps up, brows knitting together. “Wait, what? Why?”

“Because Harrington here is clearly losing his mind at Frogger, and I can only watch him die so many times,” Eddie drawls, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Also, Back to the Future is playing.”

Mike perks up at that, momentarily distracted from his crushing defeat. “That movie’s supposed to be awesome.”

“It is!” Will adds excitedly. “My brother saw it last week, he said it’s amazing.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie smirks, jerking his thumb back toward Steve. “I’m hauling Captain Frogger out of here before he bankrupts himself.”

Steve rolls his eyes, nudging Eddie with his shoulder a bit harder than necessary. “You guys coming or not?”

Lucas glances back at the Galaga screen where Mike is still paused mid-game. “We still got a few more tokens left. Maybe we’ll catch up with you later?”

Mike looks a little torn, but when Will gives him an encouraging nod, he shrugs. “Yeah, go ahead. Tell us if it’s good!”

Dustin throws them both a thumbs-up.

“You bet!” He’s already halfway out the door, practically vibrating with excitement. Steve sighs like this is all mildly inconvenient, but Eddie catches the little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as they follow Dustin out of the arcade and into the main halls of the mall.

The cinema is on the ground floor, nestled between the food court and a pretzel stand that makes Eddie’s stomach growl as they pass. The bright, flashing marquee reads ‘BACK TO THE FUTURE – 3:30PM’, and there’s already a line forming at the box office.

Steve strolls right up to it, pulling out his wallet as Dustin bounces on his heels. “I’m getting popcorn, too!” Dustin announces to no one in particular.

“Big surprise,” Eddie mutters, folding his arms. But when Steve starts to hand over a bill for three tickets, Eddie’s hands shoot out, stopping him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa- hold up there, Harrington.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, money still poised between his fingers. “What?”

Eddie’s already digging around in his pockets, producing a crumpled five-dollar bill and a handful of change that he slaps onto the counter.

“I got mine.” Steve looks like he’s about to protest, but Eddie just shoots him a look. “I mean it. I’m paying.”

“Didn’t think you were shy about free stuff, Munson,” Steve smirks, shoving his wallet back into his back pocket.

“Not shy, just... you know. I got it this time,” Eddie says, a little too quickly. His ears feel like they’re burning, and he looks anywhere but Steve’s face. His ego’s still a little bruised from all the times Steve had just casually paid for shit without thinking, like Eddie needed some kind of charity. Even if he did, sometimes.

Steve just shrugs, still grinning, and pays for his and Dustin’s tickets. Dustin, already halfway to the concession stand, waves them over. “Come on, you slowpokes!”

“Man’s got an appetite like a black hole,” Eddie comments as they catch up.

“Think he burns it all off running his mouth,” Steve replies smoothly, and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

The theater is dim and humming with chatter as they find their seats, Dustin in the far right, Steve in the middle, and Eddie on the left. Eddie flops into his chair, stretching out like he owns the place, glancing over as Steve settles next to him.

“Sitting next to me, King Steve? I’m flattered.” he teases, glancing at Dustin, who’s already got his face buried in a tub of popcorn.

“I figure you need the company, Munson. Can’t have you crying during the scary parts.” Steve shrugs, cracking his knuckles as he settles in.

Eddie huffs a laugh. “You’re hilarious, Harrington.”

Steve just grins back, that easy, casual smile that’s been creeping its way into Eddie’s thoughts more often than he’d like to admit.

Then, Eddie barely manages to stifle a yawn.

“We boring you, Munson?” Steve raises a brow, still grinning.

Eddie finishes his dramatised yawn, blinking.

“Mh. So much.” He mumbles. Then he sighs. “Just slept like shit.”

Steve gives him this tighter look, horrifically close to concern, and nods with something that seems like understanding.
“Nightmares?” He asks, almost painfully soft, and Eddie feels his heart skip a beat.

He pauses for a moment, not really knowing how to answer, before just looking away and nodding.

Steve just hums and nods again, something saying I-get-it.

Eddie supposes they probably all get nightmares after the shit they’ve been through.

The lights start to dim, and Dustin shushes them loudly even though the previews haven’t even started yet. Eddie leans back, arms crossed, but he can’t quite keep the warm feeling in his chest away. If he happens to glance over at Steve more than once during the opening credits, well...that’s nobody’s business but his own.

The theater hums with muffled excitement, the screen flickering bright with the futuristic lights of Hill Valley as Back to the Future rolls on. Eddie’s lounging in his seat, arms crossed and legs stretched out like he owns the place. Dustin’s perched on the edge of his seat, shoveling popcorn into his mouth like he’s afraid it’ll disappear if he stops for even a second.

About halfway through the movie, Dustin nudges Steve’s arm with the popcorn tub, eyes still locked on the screen.

“You want some?” he whispers, barely above the sound of Marty McFly shredding on his guitar.

Steve raises an eyebrow, glancing down at the popcorn. “Since when are you this generous, Henderson?”

Dustin huffs. “Since always.”

Steve just smirks and reaches in, grabbing a modest handful before turning and offering the tub to Eddie. “

Eddie blinks, dragging his eyes away from the screen (and, if he’s being honest, from Steve’s profile, sharp and clean-cut in the flickering light) and looks down at the tub. He grins.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He then proceeds to grab an enormous handful, kernels spilling out between his fingers as he shovels them back to his side.

Dustin nearly chokes. “Dude! Are you feeding a family of five or something? Save some for the rest of us!” he whisper-yells, glaring daggers at Eddie.

Eddie just chews loudly, grinning with his mouth full. “You said I could have some.”

“Yeah, like a normal person’s amount! Not like a vacuum cleaner!”

Steve, still chuckling, leans over to ruffle Dustin’s hair. “Hey, I paid for it, remember? That makes it my popcorn. I’m just lending it out.”

“So now you’re taking his side?” Dustin’s eyes narrow.

Steve shrugs, entirely too pleased with himself. “I’m taking the side of fairness. Next time, you can pay for your own.”

Dustin just mutters something under his breath and slumps back in his chair, crossing his arms in an exaggerated pout. Eddie flicks a kernel at him just for good measure, and Dustin swats it out of the air.

The movie continues on, scenes flashing by, but Eddie’s focus is split. He’s half watching the screen and half... well, half looking at Steve. It’s stupid, really. Steve’s just sitting there, one arm draped casually over the back of the seat, eyes fixed on the movie with that soft, unbothered expression of his. He’s got this little furrow in his brow every time the plot takes a turn, lips parting slightly when something explodes or Marty nearly gets himself killed. Eddie wonders if he knows how damn animated he gets when he’s actually paying attention to something.

And then Steve’s eyes flick over, catching him. Eddie feels his stomach do a weird little flip. “What?” Steve whispers, a lopsided grin stretching across his mouth.

Eddie, entirely too quick, straightens up and throws on his most nonchalant expression.

“Nah. Just...wondering if you’re actually enjoying this. Thought King Steve wasn’t into nerd stuff.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, barely muffled by the movie. “It’s not that nerdy. I mean, it’s got a DeLorean. That’s badass.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “You think anything with a car is badass.”

“And?” Steve whispers back, still grinning. “What’s your point?”

Eddie shrugs, feigning indifference.

“Just sayin’. I’m kind of bored, to be honest.” It’s a lie. The movie’s great. But he can’t help himself, not with Steve looking at him like that, with that soft sort of amusement in his eyes.

Steve just laughs, shaking his head and turning back to the screen. “You’re so full of shit, Munson.”

Eddie smirks, settling back into his seat, but the warmth lingers. He’s too aware of Steve’s presence beside him, the occasional brush of his arm when Steve shifts, the way his laugh sounds too loud in the muffled quiet of the theater.

Eventually, somewhere between Marty meeting his mom and the DeLorean tearing through 1955, Eddie’s eyes start to droop. He fights it for a while, arms crossed tight like that’s going to keep him awake, but it’s warm and dim, and Eddie can smell that stupid, expensive cologne that Steve wears that he likes so much (that’s probably weird, right?). Eddie’s head dips, jerks back up, then finally lolls to the side, cheek pressed against the seat’s slightly scratchy fabric. His breathing evens out, and he’s out cold, oblivious to the way Steve glances over once or twice, grinning and shaking his head.

When Eddie wakes up, the end credits are rolling, and his head is resting on something firm and warm with the soft fabric of polo-shirt and the smell of that damn cologne is practically smothering him.

Holy fucking shit he’d fallen asleep on Steve Harringtons shoulder.

He quietly let’s out a slow breath he’d apparently been holding, and lingers for a second, a second longer than he probably should, indulging in the warm, fluttering feeling in his chest.

Then, he sits up straight, blinking before rubbing his eyes.

“Morning, sunshine.” Steve says dryly, but Eddie hears the smile in his voice. Damn it.

“Shit. Sorry, man.” He says as casually as he can muster, voice a little gravely from sleeping.

Steve, annoyingly, just shrugs, with that stupid grin.

“It’s cool.”

Why was it cool? Why had Steve let him do that? King fucking Steve let Eddie and his chaos of black hair fall asleep on his goddamn shoulder. Why did he not push him off? Why did he-

“Eddie, you missed, like, the whole ending of the movie!” Dustin huffs dramatically. Eddie, thankful for moving on so quickly, just smirks.

“What did I miss?”

“You missed the DeLorean coming back, and Marty totally—ugh, you just gotta watch it again, man.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as Dustin just keeps talking, launching into a rapid-fire explanation as they shuffle out of the theater. Steve walks beside them, hands in his pockets, and Eddie can feel the warmth of him still lingering against his shoulder, like a ghost touch he can’t shake.

As they step out into the dim glow of the mall’s neon lights, Dustin is still talking, waving his hands animatedly about flux capacitors and 88 miles per hour, and Eddie just nods along, half-listening. Most of his focus is on the fact that Steve’s walking just slightly ahead of him, easy stride and casual confidence.

Dustin’s babbling about how there’s no way Marty’s parents wouldn’t recognize him after that whole thing in the past, and Eddie just nods absently, trying not to think too hard about how Steve let him because he knew that Eddie slept shittily and he knew about the nightmares and thought about that instead of pushing Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson off.

Eddie feels his throat tighten up a little, and he clears it loudly, shaking his head like he’s trying to dislodge the thought. He’s not gonna dwell. He’s not. Harrington’s just… nice. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just Steve being Steve, probably trying to save his own neck from listening to Eddie complain about being tired later.

And maybe Eddie almost believes that.

They step back into the chaos of the arcade, neon lights flashing in rhythm to the digital beeps and bloops of Pac-Man and Galaga. Mike and Lucas are huddled around the air hockey table, slamming the puck back and forth with such aggression that Eddie’s pretty sure he just watched Mike lose a finger. Max is parked at Dig Dug, practically punching the controls, and Will’s just behind her, smiling quietly, watching the screen like he’s trying to learn the secret to her rage.

Dustin immediately bounds off to join them, calling out something about showing Lucas how to actually win, and Eddie watches him go, grateful for the temporary distraction.

Then Steve turns back to him, leaning against the wall with that stupid, lazy grin of his.

“So…wanna tell me what the movie was really like? Or are you gonna stick with the ‘it’s boring’ story?”

Eddie laughs, ducking his head. “Hey, I gave it a chance, alright? Just wasn’t my style.”

“Uh-huh.” Steve’s grin widens, and Eddie’s heart does that stupid thing again. He clears his throat and looks away, hands fidgiting with his rings. The silver dragon ring. The one he’s barely taken off since Harrington gave it to him. Steve glances down at it.

He makes a small, proud smile. Eddie almost throws up.

“You two done making eyes at each other or what?” Max calls out from Dig Dug, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie nearly chokes. “You- shut up!”

Max just smirks, turning back to her game. Steve scoffs, muttering something under his breath as he walks off towards the hockey table, and Eddie watches him with a small smile.

Eddie follows him, shouting some sort of challenge at Mike, who just gives him a dry look.

And he distracts himself with the chaos, but Eddie’s mind is still stuck back in the theater, his head still resting on Steve’s shoulder, and he really hopes it’s not written all over his face.

Chapter Text

Eddie flipped through a comic book, leaning against the dresser in Robin Buckleys bedroom. The room was chaotic, with some of the most horrific wallpaper Eddie had ever seen, with random shit strewn around the floor. It was almost as bad as Eddies. But it was organised, in a chaotic way. Pile of worn-once clothes over there, dirty clothes over there, half read books here, not started books there.

Her bed was big and comfy with a big mess of duvet that looked like someone could be hiding in there, and she had a Bowie poster on the wall, and a classic looking record player on her desk.

“Would you put that down?” She barks from where she was kneeling on the floor, rummaging under her bed. “Stop snooping.”

“I’m not snooping,” he smirks, putting the comic back down on the dresser. “Simply observing.”

Robin shoots him a little glare.

“Well, quit observing and just wait.” She says, throwing miscellaneous things from under her bed.

Eddie just laughs. She makes a small gasp, before sitting up straight with an object in her hand.

An old tape recorder.

She grinned at him proudly.

“Told you I still had it,” She says as Eddie gives her a theatrical round of applause, and she stands up and bows.

“Used to use it to record my daily thoughts. So if you press play and it plays me singing some The Cure song then don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She hands it over with a grin, and Eddie takes it with a little nod.

“I look forward to it,” he says.

She makes a half-hearted attempt to kick a shoebox back under her bed, and Eddie gives her a smug look when the lid falls off revealing a rather inappropriate magazine with a topless woman on the front. She just bends down and quickly slams the lid back on and shoves it deep under her bed.

“Shut it, dingus,” She bites, “I know you have a lot worse of a collection than me.” Eddie laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says innocently, but grinning as Robin just scoffs and pushes past him.

They head down the stairs.

“You heading out, sweetie?” Robin's mom, Sarah Buckley, called from the kitchen, where it smelled like she was baking banana bread.

“Yeah,” she calls back. “I’ll be home by 9.”

“Alright.” Sarah says. She turns to Eddie with a smile. “Keep her out of trouble, Munson.” Robin scoffs.

“Do you know who you’re talking to? It’ll be me keeping him out of trouble.” She says dryly.

Mrs Buckley was surprisingly nice to Eddie. She was wary at first, obviously, but after Robin had made his case, and she’d actually met Eddie (and Eddie was surprisingly charming with parents), she changed her mind. And now that Eddie and Robin were pretty good friends, the woman had seen enough of him that she wasn’t too worried about him being a bad influence.

Sarah just chuckles and ducks back into the kitchen. Eddie raises his eyebrows at Robin with a grin, who just shakes her head and opens her front door.

Just then is when Steve Harrington's shiny car pulls round the corner at the end of the street, coming to a stop just outside Robin's house.

“C’mon, idiot. I don’t have all day.” He says with a look of mock annoyance on his face. Buckley scoffs but there's a grin on her face.

“I’m coming.” She retorts, bounding towards the car.

That's when Steve's eyes flick to Eddie.

“You need a ride, Munson?”

Steve was here because he’d, clearly, just finished work, the stupid green vest on over that beige polo shirt, and was giving Robin a lift to see Vicky, because it was on his way home-ish. Not really. Steve'd just do anything for his friends.

Eddie had planned on getting out of here before Steve got here, but he’d ended up hanging around at Robins for a lot longer than he intended, and he was probably gonna be late to get to Jeffs for Corroded Coffin practice.

He hesitates.

He caves.

“If it’s alright, I wouldn't mind one.” He shrugs.

Steve rolls his eyes and grins.

“Get in.”

He grins, as Steve ducks back into the car and Eddie flings open the back door, clambering in.

Steve’s BMW rattles a bit as it turns the corner, the springs creaking like it’s older than it actually is. Eddie sprawled out in the back seat, legs stretched across the leather and boots leaving faint scuffs that Steve had grumbles about for the first ten minutes before giving up entirely. Robin’s in the passenger seat, one foot tucked beneath her and her arm resting casually out the window, wind whipping through her hair.

“You look nice,” Steve says casually, but throws Robin a knowing grin. Robin scoffs at him.

“I always look nice.” She retorts, reaching to fiddle with the radio, but Steve slaps her hand away.

“You’re all dolled up.” Steve teases, and Robin gives him a dirty look as Eddie leans forward in the back, grinning.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“You nervous to hang out with your friend, Buckley?” Eddie chimes in, Steve giving him a small glance with furrowed brows.

“Shut up,” she sighs. “Both of you.”

Eddie nudges her shoulder, and Steve taps the wheel to the beat of Wham! playing on the radio, grinning.

“Can we please talk about anything else?”

“Fine, fine. Let’s talk about how Harrington here can’t drive for shit.” Eddies grin widens.

Steve’s head whips around, just for a second, but long enough for Robin to yelp and smack his arm.

“Eyes on the road, Dingus!”

“I drive just fine, Munson. Better than you, I’m guessing.” Steve grumbles, turning back to the wheel.

“Oh, you wound me, Harrington.” Eddie clutches his chest dramatically, flopping back against the seat. “I’m an excellent driver, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it.”

They pull up to Sammy’s Diner a few minutes later, the neon sign flickering against the glass windows. Vicky’s already inside, sitting at a booth by the window, her red hair bright even from the car. Robin glances at her, then back at Steve and Eddie.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she warns.

Steve just grins. “No promises.”

Eddie leans forward again. “Go get her, Buckley.”

Robin rolls her eyes but there’s the hint of a smile tugging at her mouth.

“Later, losers.” She clambers out of the car, slamming the door shut, and Eddie watches her for a moment as she jogs up to the door, Vicky waving her over.

“Alright, go. I’m late as it is.” Eddie demands, and Steve gives an exasperated sigh.

He rolls his eyes and shifts the car back into drive, pulling away from the diner. Eddie takes the opportunity to awkwardly climb into the front seat, half falling, before sprawling out in the passenger side like he’s lived there his whole life.

Steve glances at him. “Comfy?”

Eddie kicks his feet up on the dash, grinning. “You have no idea.”

“Gonna get mud all over my car, Munson.” Steve just sighs, turning up the radio a little as they head towards Jeff’s.

“Consider it an improvement.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head but not actually bothering to tell him to take his feet down.

“Onward, chauffeur,” Eddie declares dramatically, pointing out the windshield. “My bandmates await.”

The car rumbles down the streets, and they fall into comfortable silence for a while, filled only by Steves terrible music that Eddie has made an effort to exaggeratedly scoff and frown at.

After a few minutes of the streets of Hawkins blurring past, Steve clears his throat.

“So,” He starts, way too casually. “You into Robin?”

Eddie whips his head round, looking at him like that's the most absurd thing he’s ever heard.

“What?!” He almost chokes. Steve just gives him a small glance.

“I don’t know,” He smacks the wheel in a little shrug. “You two have gotten pretty close. And you always make those weird jokes with each other. Thought that was your way of flirting or something.” He doesn’t look at Eddie, leaving him to stare at his profile in part shock part amusement.

“No, man.” Eddie laughs out. “She’s not exactly my type.” Steve looks at him then, with raised brows, and a ghost of a smirk.

“Cool,” he says, before turning back to the road. “You’re not exactly her type either.”

Eddie barks out a laugh then. A real laugh. Obviously, Steve doesn’t know that Eddie knows. And that is hilarious to him.

“I know, Harrington,” He says, still half laughing. “She told me.”

Steve looks at him then, brows raised. “Told you what?”

Eddie blinks at him, Steve glancing back at the road, but making the effort to look confused.

“What do you think, Stevie?” He asks dryly.

Steve doesn’t say anything. Eddie thinks it’s sweet that he makes such an effort not to out her.

“I know her type is more… ginger.” He hints, painfully.

Steve, then, gives him a surprised look and a slow, understanding nod.

“You know she likes boobies.” He says slowly, and way too seriously. Eddie laughs way too hard.

“Sure, that’s one way to put it.” Steve shoots him a little look for laughing at him.

They lapse into silence again, Eddie still grinning at amusement of hearing Steve say ‘boobies’ so seriously.

“So, why’d she tell you?” He asks, thrumming his fingers against the wheel. “You like her and then she broke the news to you? That’s how I found out.”

Eddie blinks, not knowing which part of that statement to respond to.

“You liked Robin?” He furrows his brows.

“Well, it was after we’d been kidnapped and tortured by Russians together. I was a little drugged up. And she was my best friend.” He explains himself, almost defensively. Eddie nods, feeling a little pang of sympathy about how much shit these guys have been through.

“Fair,” he shrugs.

They pause, Steve turning a corner.

“And no, I didn’t like her.” Eddie says. He then thinks, very carefully, about what he’s about to imply. Whatever. “As I said, she’s not exactly my type.” He emphasises on ‘type’, tilting his head and raising his brows.

Steve scoffs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He assumes Eddie’s insulting Robin. That makes Eddie laugh a little.

“Hey, she’s great. Maybe she would’ve been.” He grins, having way too much fun being vague, ignoring the way his heart is hammering in his chest.

He knows Steve is cool with it. With… gay people. Well, he is now. He’s not the guy who called him a slur in high school anymore. But Eddie’s still nervous, obviously. And what if Steve’s a little freaked out because he’s a guy into guys? What if he immediately assumes Eddie might be into him? Which is, unfortunately, painfully accurate.

“What the fuck are you talking about, man?” Steve tuts impatiently.

“God, you’re slow.” Eddie flops back in his seat dramatically. Steve shoots him a glare. “I’m not into her for the same reason she’s not into me, Stevie.” He says plainly.

Steve's brows furrow.

Then, Steve’s brows raise, his eyes widening as he opens his mouth in a little O.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie laughs, distracting himself from how sick he feels.

Steve clicks his tongue awkwardly.

“Its- you know i’m…” Steve stammers. Sort of cute. “You know i’m cool with it, man.”

Eddie nods slowly.

“Yeah.”

Steve gives him a little, studying look.

“That makes so much sense.” He mutters, almost to himself. Eddie barks a laugh.

“I thought you probably guessed,” he says casually, folding his arms and staring out the window. “Since, you know. What I got called in high school?”

He sees Steve flinch a little in his peripheral vision.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t- I mean- didn’t know if it was true,” He says quickly. “I didn’t assume, man, I mean, I thought- People say dumb shit all the time. I said dumb shit all the time. I called Jonathan a queer and he totally stole my girl, so, I mean-“

Eddie laughs softly, and lightly whacks him on the arm.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, sweetheart.” He says almost gently. His heart is, slowly, calming down now. That wasn’t so bad.

He’d just come out to Steve Harrington. No biggie. Not a big deal at all. Everything was absolutely fine. Just telling the guy he hated in highschool, the guy who was a sort of homophobic, and all around mostly an asshole, and the guy that now, was one of the most selfless and brave people he’d ever met, who he would get on his knees for in a heartbeat, that he was gay. Totally fine.

After a few beats of silence, Steve opens his mouth again.

“So, you got a boyfriend?” He asks, making a painful attempt at small talk.

Eddie cracks into a laugh again.

“Do you know how many queers there are in Hawkins, Harrington?” He asks unseriously. “Two. Me and Robin.”

Steve laughs.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“You’re right,” Eddie shrugs. “But all the other ones I've already cycled through.”

Steve makes a little gagging sound, his face contorting, and Eddie smirks.

“What, you disgusted by me, King Steve?” He teases, and Harrington shoots him a glare.

“Not cus you’re gay,” He says dryly. “Because you’re a whore.” He smirks. Eddie smacks a hand to his chest and gasps in mock offence.

“How very rude.” He breaths dramatically. Steve just shakes his head.

“Shut up.”

They spend the next few minutes teasing each other, Eddie still finding it painfully endearing how awkward Steve gets about all this, and also trying to take his mind off the deep aching in his chest at Steve being oh so very straight.

“Alright, Munson,” Steve announces as he pulls up outside Jeffs house, and Eddie can see Gareth and Jeff in the garage, setting up the drum kit. “Here’s your stop.”

“Why thank you, gracious gentleman.” Eddie grins as he clicks off his seatbelt. He goes to open the door, when Steve lightly touches his arm.

Eddie looks back at him, brow furrowed.

“Hey, uh,” He starts, before swallowing. “Thanks for… telling me, dude. I know it can be, uh, hard, for you people,” You people. Hah. “So it’s cool, that you… yeah.” He offers a small smile, and Eddie can’t help but smile back.

“Yeah, anytime.” He says unseriously, and Steve just chuckles and shakes his head. “Thanks for… being cool about it, I guess.” He adds, a little quieter.

Steve gives him a big, boyish smile that feels like a punch in the gut.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Eddie looks at him for a second, before throwing the passenger door open and climbing out, slamming it behind him. As he rounds the car, Steve rolls the window down and leans out.

“This doesn’t mean I'm gonna keep being your damn taxi driver.” He calls, but there's a smirk on his face.

Eddie just spins round, walking backwards, sticking his tongue out at him before whirling back round to meet the confused faces of Gareth and Jeff, who were looking between him and Steve Harrington's car that’s now half way down the street.

“What?” Eddie bites out, glaring at them.

“Seriously, dude?” Gareth asks, sounding almost offended.

“You’re actually friends with him?” Jeff folds his arms. Eddie shoots them a distasteful look as he bends over to mess with the amp, pulling Robins tape recorder out of the pocket of his leather jacket and placing it on the floor.

“Yeah, and?” He says dryly. “He’s a good guy?”

Jeff scoffs a laugh and Gareth looks at him like he’d killed someone.

“Really? King Steve? The guy who’s slept with half the girls in Hawkins and shoved guys like you into lockers in highschool?” Jeff steps forward, and Eddie just scoffs.

“People change.” He stands and grabs Jeff's guitar that’s leaning against the wall, the one that’s way less cool than his baby, but the one he borrows when he can’t bring her to practice.

“Even if he has, you’re not the type to get over shit,” Gareth scoffs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie narrows his eyes as he plugs the guitar in, giving it a strum to test it out.

“You hold grudges.” Jeff answers for him.

Eddie sighs.

He does. He absolutely holds grudges. He doesn’t forget shit. Once, he didn’t talk to Jeff for two weeks because he blew off D&D to hang out with a girl.

“When’s Matty gracing us with his presence?” He sighs, trying to change the subject. Gareth just walks over to him, poking a finger in his face.

“Don’t change the subject, Edward.” Eddie frowns, giving him a look that could burn him on the spot. He hated being called that.

“Tell us what’s so special about King Steve Harrington that he managed to earn your favour?” Jeff pushes, stepping forward as well.

Eddie just looks between them.

What’s he supposed to say? Oh, we went to a different dimension together and I found out he wasn’t all bad, and then he saved my life so I got a massive crush on him.

Yeah, real good story. One that, even if he told them, they wouldn’t believe.

They thought he was in hospital that week because he overdosed.

He rolls his eyes.

“He’s just nice,” Eddie bites out, defensively. “He drives me around and buys me shit, and he’s friends with my friends. Our friends. He’s not my friend.”

He goes back to fiddling with the knobs on the guitar, but can feel his friends' eyes on him.

After a moment of silence, Gareth and Jeff look at each other with concern etched into their faces.

“What?” He barks, annoyance stirring inside of him. Who were they to question him? They didn’t know shit.

“Eddie,” Gareth starts, slowly.

“Are you into him?” Jeff finishes quickly, voice lowering conspiringly.

Oh.

Maybe they did know shit.

Eddie’s heart jolts, but he plasters on a disgusted look.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” He hisses. “No, I’m not into Steve fucking Harrington.” He sneers like it's the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard.

Gareth gives Jeff a side glance, who just sighs.

“You sure?” He asks.

“Yes, I'm sure, Jeffery.” He snides, giving them a look that could kill. “I’d rather rip my own eyes out and eat them.”

Gareth laughs, and Jeff raises his brow, but, for now, they look convinced. Good.

Eddie looks away, clicking his tongue in exaggerated annoyance, distracting himself from the horrible feeling in his gut by continuing to act displeased with the tuning of the guitar.

Just then, Matty swerves into the drive on his bike, bass guitar slung over his shoulder by the strap. His brown hair falls in his eyes as he practically falls off his bike, letting it clatter to the ground carelessly.

“Guys,” He breathes, panting from the exertion of cycling here as fast as he could. “I’m sorry I’m late, mom made me stay for dinner and-”

“Don’t need you’re life story, Mathew.” Eddie sing songs dryly. “Get your greasy hair in it before I rip it out.”

Matty raises his brows at him, slowing his breath as he walks into the garage. He swings his bass off his back and goes to plug it into the spare amp.

“What’s up his ass?” Eddie hears him whisper to Jeff behind him.

“Steve Harrington, apparently.” Jeff snorts, and Gareth laughs.

Eddie spins round violently, and punches him in the arm. Hard.

Jeff jolts back, glaring at him, rubbing his upper arm to soothe it.

“Ow, man!” He spits, looking at Eddie, pissed off. Gareth just laughs harder, and poor Matty looks so confused.

“You deserved it.” Eddie huffs.

Chapter Text

Eddie stares at the box on the table in front of him.

The small cardboard box that it came in, not wrapped, because you’re crazy if you think Eddie’s spending money on something that’ll be torn off in three seconds flat anyway.

Inside, was a small, hand painted figure of Dustin Hendersons character from their last campaign.

It had taken Eddie hours. He bought the plain goblin figure from the store, and painstakingly modified and painted it based off the description sheet Eddie still had crammed into that folder he had for that campaign.

He groans, falling backwards against the couch.

It was so stupid.

He knows Henderson will think it’s cool. Henderson thinks everything's cool. He’s painfully enthusiastic about everything.

Something about it made him feel annoyingly sappy and sentimental. Eddie had spent his whole life pretending he didn’t give a shit about anything. So small things like this when he reveals he really does are almost painful for him. Not that he didn’t want Henderson to get the best birthday presents ever. God, the kid deserved it. He’d held him while Eddie was dying, for fucks sake.

Not only that, it was the little twang of guilt for not being able to afford big, extravagant presents. Not right now, anyway. Not while he still didn’t have a stable job. Not when he’d lost a lot of customers when the whole town thought he was a satanic murderer. Not when he’d almost considered selling the love of his life, his guitar, out of guilt when Wayne had almost scraped his savings dry for Eddie’s healthcare.

He knew it didn’t matter. He knew Dustin wouldn’t care. None of them would. They all understood. They pitied him.

Eddie rubs his eyes. Quit feeling sorry for yourself, Munson.

He stands up, sighing, and walking to his bedroom. He checks himself once over in the reflection for about the third time in the last hour. You’d think Eddie Munson doesn’t look at himself in the mirror when he dresses himself, and, usually, he doesn't.

But tonight is Dustin Hendersons birthday party. Everyone will be there. And, not only that, it’s at the one and only Steve Harrington's house. He’s putting in at least a little effort to look okay.

He’d showered, his hair softer and detangled, and smelling like the shitty 3 in 1 shower gel he uses, and not like cigarettes or weed. He had on his Metallica shirt, and his arguably nicer, better fitting black jeans, the ones without the rips in the knees, the ones that he didn’t struggle to put on, and his boots. The wallet chain hangs off his belt as per usual, and his hands are lined with rings and his chain bracelet and his watch.

He looked pretty much the same as usual. At least on the nicer end of his scale of usual.

He even sprayed himself with the cologne he only uses on special occasions.

He sighs, running a hand through his black curls, staring at the ugly scar on his bicep, just visible beneath the short sleeve of his t-shirt, the one that warped the tattoo he had there of a badass skull and daggers.

He clicks his tongue, before moving over to his bed and swiping up a red flannel, and shoving his arms through the sleeves, sliding his arms through it. He smooths it down, and adds an extra spritz of cologne for good measure, before giving himself a forced smile in the mirror.

He then jumps, swivelling round as there’s a loud knock on his trailer door.

He rushes back into the living room, grabbing the box on the table, and goes to rush to the door, before-

“Eddie,” Wayne poked his head out from his own bedroom. “You off?”

“Yeah,” He smiles.

“Alright. Have fun. And don’t get into any trouble.” He says tiredly.

“No promises,” Eddie winks, and Wayne tries too scoff, but can’t help the smile he gets seeing the small twinkle in his nephews eye.

Eddie then turns and swings open the door, greeted by Nancy Wheeler.

Nancy Wheeler, who was wearing a nice blouse and skirt and little Doc Martens, with her brown hair curled perfectly and half tied up, and her lashes dark and long with mascara. She was pretty. Really pretty. Soft and feminine and had everything Eddie didn’t.

Nancy grins.

“C’mon, party doesn’t start till you turn up.” She teases, and Eddie huffs a laugh, closing the door behind him and leaping down from the steps of his trailer.

“You’ve never been to a party with me, Wheeler.” He shoots her a grin, as he starts walking backwards towards Jonathans beat up old car. Nancy smiles at him as she rolls her eyes.

“I’m dreading it.” She follows him to the car, hopping back into the passenger seat, as Eddie climbs in the backseat.

“Hey, Johnny,” He greets cheerfully, leaning forward. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“No problem,” Jonathan smiles, starting the engine.

Jonathan pulls out the trailer park, and Nancy turns round to look at him.

“Whats that?” She asks, gesturing to the box in Eddies hands. Eddie grins.

“Don’t want to spoil the surprise now, do we?” He replies with a grin. Nancy just scoffs.

Jonathan’s car rattles along the winding roads of Hawkins, the engine grumbling like it's mildly pissed to be awake this early. Eddie squished in the backseat, his knees practically hugging the front seat where Nancy sits, legs crossed, poised as usual, too poised for a girl who owns multiple guns.

“Think it’ll hold out?” Eddie asks, nodding at the radio as it sputters out another wave of static.

Jonathan glances back at him in the rearview mirror with a grin. “Maybe. Or it might catch fire. Fifty-fifty, really.”

Nancy snorts, closing her notebook. “I keep telling him to just get it fixed, but he’s convinced it adds character.”

“It does add character,” Jonathan says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You wouldn’t want me driving around in something brand new. What would that say about me?”

“That you’re not a broke burnout?” Eddie shoots back, and Jonathan laughs. “Hey, you’re talking to the King of Burnouts back here,” Eddie adds, spreading his arms wide and slouching back with theatrical flair. “I’d never judge you, Byers.”

“Glad to hear it.” Jonathan adjusts his grip on the wheel, and Nancy just shakes her head, a smile playing at her lips.

They take a turn, the old car wheezing in protest before settling back into its grumbling rhythm. The streets are mostly empty, save for a few kids biking down the sidewalk and a couple of cars parked outside the diner. Hawkins on a Saturday. Practically a ghost town.

They drive in comfortable silence for a bit, the scenery blurring by in muted greens and browns. Eddie taps his fingers on the window ledge, the steady rhythm keeping him grounded. He’s gotta admit, riding with Jonathan and Nancy’s not half bad. They don’t look at him like he’s a walking crime scene. It’s kinda… nice. He wasn’t exactly close with either of them. He’d only met Jonathan after the (almost) end of the world. But, the tragedy had bonded them, and they were friends, whether they liked it or not.

Nancy shifts around in her seat, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “I still can’t believe Steve offered to host.”

“Yeah, well, Harrington’s got the place to do it, doesn’t he?” Eddie replies, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, but he’s been kinda...I dunno. Moody? Lately,” Nancy says, her brow furrowing.

Eddie snorts. “Pretty sure Harrington’s default setting is moody.”

Jonathan grins at that, but Nancy just shakes her head. “No, it’s different. He’s, like...I don’t know, distracted or something.”

Eddie shrugs, looking out the window to hide the fact that he’s probably more interested in Steve’s mood swings than he should be. “Maybe he’s just sick of babysitting a bunch of nerds.”

“Hey, you’re one of those nerds now,” Jonathan points out, and Eddie flips him off in the rearview.

“Not by choice,” Eddie shoots back, but it’s hollow.

“Steve’s always weird, Nance. Why’re you paying attention to it now?” Jonathan asks, barely disguising the distaste in his voice. Nancy smacks him lightly and shoots him a glare.

“I’m just saying!” She scoffs, “Besides, he’s my friend. And he’s yours, too, you know.” She says matter-of-factly, and Jonathans face softens a little.

“I know.” He sighs, and Nancy’s eyes linger on him for a second, before she settles back down in her seat.

They pull up to the edge of Loch Nora, the Harrington house looming large and pristine at the end of the street. Already, Eddie can spot the swarm of bikes tossed carelessly across the lawn, Dustin’s signature hat bouncing around as he runs toward the front door. The place is alive with noise and chaos, and Eddie can’t help the grin that tugs at his mouth.

“Well,” Jonathan says, killing the engine with a sputtering cough. “Time to party.”

Eddie shoves the door open, jumping out and slamming it behind him, and Jonathan winces as the car rattles with the impact. Nancy gives him a little dirty look that he pretends not to notice as she climbs out of the car, closing the door behind her a lot more carefully.

Eddie’s already halfway up the drive, small cardboard box in hand, when Dustin spins around and spots him.

“Eddie!” He shouts with so much glee it makes Eddie’s heart feel lighter.

He runs towards him, before tackling him, throwing his arms around Eddie’s waist and playfully throwing him backwards. Eddie yelps before ruffling the kids hair.

“Careful, Dusty-Buns,” He warns, laughing. “You’re gonna crush your present.”

Dustin steps back, and looks at the box in his hand and laughs in a way that sounds like wo-ho-ho!, and Eddie scoffs a laugh.

“You got me a present?” He looks at Eddie with stars in his eyes, and he just shakes his head and starts walking, Dustin falling into step with him.

“Of course I did, nerd. It is your birthday, isn’t it?” He asks jokingly. “How old are you again? 13?” He puts on a face of genuine curiosity, and Dustin smacks him on the arm.

“16, a-hole.” He says matter of factly, and Eddie hears Nancy laugh behind them.

They make their way to the door, and Eddie steps inside Steve Harrington's not-so-humble abode.

He’d been here once before. Only briefly, when Steve had to swing home to grab something when he’d driven him and Dustin somewhere a few weeks ago, but Eddie hadn’t made it far past the entryway.

It was big, and awfully plain, with boring wallpaper and photos on the wall where few and far between. It seemed almost unlived in. Nothing compared to the mess of Eddie and Wayne's trailer. It was almost sad.

Eddie knew the Harrington’s were hardly home, on some business trip or holiday they didn’t care to invite Steve on, like they’d given up raising him when he turned 15. Steve shrugs and says he doesn’t care, that it was cool he got to hold parties in highschool, that it made him more popular, but Eddie always noticed the light die in his eyes when he mentioned his parents coming home.

Robin emerges from the kitchen, beer in hand, giving Eddie and the birthday boy a bright smile, before turning her head down the hall.

“Dingus!” She calls. “More guests have arrived!” She sing-songs.

Then, Eddie hears “No- don’t touch that- Mike!” from the living room down the hall, and Steve sounding very exasperated.

Nancy immediately sighs and rolls her eyes, pushing past them to go and sort out her brother, her and Robin sharing a small, amused look.

“So? What are you waiting for?” Eddie grins at Robin, sauntering towards the kitchen. “Beer me, Buckley.”

Robin huffs a laugh and turns back into the kitchen, and Dustin races past them, joining his birthday party, probably off to annoy Steve, maybe break a vase or something. Jonathan laughs a little, barely having moved from the entryway, not entirely sure what to do with himself.

“Byers!” Robin calls, and Jonathan appears in the doorway of the kitchen, hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets. “You want a beer?” She asks as she tears through the cardboard of the pack, yanking one out and handing it to Eddie.

“No, thanks.” Jonathan says with a small smile. “Can’t. I’m driving.”

“Boo,” Eddie boo’s, cracking open his beer with a hiss. “Boring.” He takes two big gulps. It’s cold and frankly a little gross, but he’s never gonna complain about free beer.

Jonathan gives him an incredulous look. “I’m the one giving you a ride home,”

Eddie shrugs. “A beer or two before driving never hurt.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Robin huffs, putting an arm round Eddie's shoulders. “He gives terrible advice.”

“I can imagine.” Jonathan says dryly, and Eddie shoots him a little look of mock offense, but there's a grin tugging at his lips.

Robin guides them out the kitchen, Jonathan stepping aside as she bends Eddie down a little and ruffles his hair. Eddie shoves her off with a little too much force, and they laugh.

Yeah. This was pretty alright.

The three of them walk into the living room, where Steve was standing, hands on his hips, Nancy at his side laughing softly, and Steve looking at her with a proud grin on his face, like making her laugh was the best thing he’d done all year.

Eddie felt a little nauseous. He imagines Jonathan probably feels it worse.

Dustin was sitting on the floor, a collection of wrapped gifts in front of him. Mike and Will where sprawled on the couch across from him, and Lucas was currently poking Max in the side, also sat on the floor, Max attempting to look annoyed and swat Lucas away, but she’s giggling.

Eddie walks over to them, ignoring Steve completely, and flops into the empty armchair nearby, beer in one hand, box in the other. He leans forward, holding it out to Dustin, who looks at it like Eddie is handing him pure gold.

“Happy birthday, gremlin.” He grins. Dustin takes the box, and then shakes it. Eddie sucks in a harsh breath. “Don’t shake it! Fuckin’ idiot.” He scolds, and Dustin just gives him an apologetic face.

“Language, Munson.” Robin warns, leaning over the back of his chair. “You’re in the company of children.” Most of them look at her with a range of offended faces and scoffs.

“Hey,” Eddie says, leaning back and tilting his head back to look at an upside-down Robin. “Think these kids have heard a lot worse than the F-bomb, Buck-o.”

Will huffs a little laugh in agreement, and Lucas pipes up.

“Max can’t go three words without cursing,” He teases, and Max practically shoves him over, and he just laughs.

Robin just rolls her eyes.

“Fair enough.” She says, patting Eddie on the shoulder before going to join the rest of the ‘grown ups’, thankfully to distract Nancy.

Jonathan has sidled up to the edge of the couch, and leans over to gently pat Will on the head, who rolls his eyes fondly.

“You alright?” He asks, and Will looks up at him.

“Yeah,” He grins.

Jonathan was a good guy. Really. And a damn good brother.

“You have fun today?” He asks, and Mike leans forward, smirking.

“Yeah, I totally kicked his ass at battleships.” He teases, and Will laughs, giving him a playful smack on his knee. Jonathan raises an amused brow at them.

Dustin, who’s been practically vibrating with anticipation for the last twenty minutes, finally clears his throat loudly.

“Alright, people!” he announces, clapping his hands together. “I’m officially starting the gift-opening ceremony.”

There’s a round of chuckles, but the conversations die down, eyes turning toward the birthday boy. He rubs his hands together dramatically, staring at the pile of presents like he’s just discovered treasure.

“Well?” Eddie drawls from the armchair, drumming his fingers on the armrest. “What’re you waiting for, Henderson? Christmas?”

Dustin rolls his eyes but grins, diving for the first present. It’s from Will, wrapped carefully in crisp blue paper. Dustin tears it open with all the grace of a wild animal, bits of paper flying everywhere. Inside is a hand-drawn comic book, titled ‘The Adventures of Dusty-Buns’, which Mike grins at in amusement. Will ducks his head a little as Dustin gawks at it.

“Dude, did you draw this?” Dustin asks, flipping through the pages with reverence.

Will nods, a small smile on his face. “Yeah.”

“This is awesome. Seriously, man.” Dustin beams.

Next up is Mike’s, wrapped in shiny red paper with tape that looks like it was applied with a shovel. Dustin rips it open and pulls out a brand-new set of dice, polished obsidian with flecks of silver. Dustin’s eyes widen.

“Holy shit, these are cool,” he breathes, holding them up to the light.

“Weighted for crits,” Mike says proudly, crossing his arms. “I tested them.”

Dustin laughs. “You tested them? Did you cheat?”

“I did not.” Mike scoffs, but his grin gives him away.

Next is a joint one from Lucas and Max, wrapped in comic book pages and tied with twine. When Dustin tears into it, he finds a brand-new walkie-talkie set, top-of-the-line, long-range, with static resistance.

“So we can actually hear each other for once,” Lucas explains with a grin.

Max nudges him. “And maybe you’ll stop screwing up the frequency.”

Dustin looks like he might cry. “I love you guys.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Max smirks. “You’re welcome.”

The next one is from Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan. It’s wrapped neatly, probably by Nancy, judging by the perfectly even creases, and when Dustin opens it, he finds a stack of vinyl records, each one handpicked. There’s some Bowie, Queen, and even a Led Zeppelin album.

“I figured you might wanna expand your taste beyond just Weird Al,” Nancy teases gently, and Dustin laughs.

“These are amazing! Seriously, thanks!”

Next, Dustin reaches for Steve’s gift, a slim, rectangular package wrapped in silver paper. He tears it open and lets out a gasp. It’s a custom-made backpack, sleek and sturdy, with patches of all his favorite things, NASA, Star Wars, the Hawkins Tigers.

“You keep running around with that old one with the busted strap,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Figured you might need an upgrade.”

“Dude, this is amazing!” Dustin exclaims, clutching it to his chest. “Thanks, Steve!”

Steve grins. “Yeah, well, don’t get it all muddy, alright?”

Dustin rolls his eyes and finally reaches for the last present, the one from Eddie. It’s small, unwrapped in a little cardboard box with ‘Dustin’ scrawled onto it in marker. Dustin rips into it, and the room falls a little quiet when he pulls out the hand-painted figure. It’s his D&D character. It’s so intricately detailed that Dustin just stares for a moment, mouth slightly open.

Eddie, who’s been watching with his arms crossed and a lazy grin, clears his throat.

“I, uh… figured your last one got kinda…wrecked in the last campaign. So, y’know.” He shrugs. “Didn’t wanna use the cheap plastic one.”

Dustin doesn’t say anything for a second, just turns the figure over in his hands with wide eyes. “You painted this?”

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. S’not perfect or anything, but-”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect.” Dustin looks up at him, eyes shining. “This is the coolest thing I’ve ever gotten.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Robin claps her hands together. “Well, if that isn’t the most wholesome thing I’ve ever seen…”

“You’re gonna make him cry, Munson.” Steve chuckles, shaking his head.
Eddie just smirks, throwing his arms behind his head and kicking his feet up onto the armrest. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Dustin just holds the figure close to his chest, looking like he’s never gonna put it down. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Anytime, Henderson,” Eddie replies, voice softening just a bit.

The room settles back into its hum of conversation, Dustin happily sifting through his pile of gifts with a grin that looks like it might split his face in half. Eddie watches him for a moment, then leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and letting his eyes drift to Steve, who’s watching the whole thing with a fondness he’s not really bothering to hide.

About an hour later, they had all migrated outside. Lucas, Mike and Dustin where in the pool, chasing each other around in the water and doing what looks like trying to drown each other. Max and Will sat on the side, legs dangling into the cool water, occasionally kicking water at one of their friends who got too close.

Nancy and Robin seemed to be in a very passionate conversation about something, giggling occasionally and throwing little looks over their shoulders at the guys. The guys being Steve, Eddie and Jonathan. A quite odd trio, in retrospect. The king, the freak and the creep. If you had told any of them three years ago that they would be sitting here, with each other, at a 16 year olds birthday party, they probably would’ve laughed. Or punched you in the face.

Jonathan looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, perched awkwardly on the edge of a chair, his eyes wandering over to Will every so often just to make sure the kids’ alright and having a good time. Eddie was sprawled out on a plastic sunbed like a lazy cat, hands behind his head like he was sunbathing, not wearing jeans and a long sleeve flannel. Steve was leaning back in his chair, feet kicked up on the edge of Eddie’s sun bed, sipping a beer casually like he didn’t notice how strange this was.

All of them together, without tragedy or danger or monsters.

He was nice to Jonathan. Friendly, even. And even though, from what Eddie has heard about the past, Steve has done more than enough to redeem himself from his questionable actions in high school, Jonathan still seemed uptight around him. Eddie gets it.

“God, you guys really need a lesson on taste,” Eddie groans after Steve had just criticised The Clash, as one of their songs had started playing on the little radio Steve had dragged outside, and Jonathan had defended them with seemingly his life.

“Alright, Munson,” Steve shoots him a dry look. “Some of us don’t want to listen to screaming and guitar riffs. Some of us like real music.” Jonathan huffs a small laugh at that, and Eddie catches the little smile that Steve gives him.

“Wham! Isn’t real music, sweetheart.” Eddie says patronisingly, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Why’d you always go for Wham!, dude. I listen to other music.”

Eddie sits up a little, leaning back on his hands and drawing his knees up, now fully invested in this debate.

“Yeah, like what?” Eddie leans in for dramatic effect. “Queen? Bowie?”

Steve tuts. “Don’t insult Bowie, jackass. Not when Robin can hear.”

Eddie laughs. He looks at Jonathan.

“What about you, Byers? Tell me your at least a little better than Club Tropicana over here.” He jerks a thumb at Steve, who mutters something about ‘Club Tropicana’ being a great song. Jonathan pauses.

Eddie’s voice drops in mock horror. “Don’t tell me you’re into The Smiths.”

Jonathan looks at him with raised brows, a look that says guilty. Eddie stares at him in disgust before flopping back down on the sunbed, theatrically bringing the back of his hand to his forehead.

“I am in the company of uncultured imbeciles.” He groans, and Jonathan and Steve share a look.

“You call DIO culture?” Jonathan teases. Eddie shoots up, glaring at him.

“Don’t go there, man.” He warns.

Steve smirks, sipping his beer. “If you can give it, you need to take it.”

Eddie raises a brow at him, an amused grin plastered on his face. He shrugs casually. “Think I know a little more about taking it than you, Harrington.” He says suggestively. It takes a moment for it to hit Steve.

When it does, he makes a little gagging noise and kicks Eddie’s leg, and Eddie just laughs. Jonathan just looks a little confused, looking between the two of them.

Another hour goes by, and now Will is in the pool, too. T-shirt and shorts still on after Mike had pulled him by the legs into the water (Which Jonathan had looked not too pleased about). He was sitting on Mike's shoulders, and Lucas was on Dustins, playing chicken fight, as Max was cheering them on, or rather, shouting insults and laughing at them.

“Remember when we used to play that?” Steve says to Nancy, who was now sat cross-legged on a sunbed, Robin perched next to her but turned the other way, facing more towards Eddie, who was totally not eavesdropping.

Nancy laughed softly and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah. I hated it, though. Carol was a sore loser.”

Steve huffs a laugh and tilts his head. “Yeah, she was.”

Eddie feels a little pang of annoyance inside him, which he definitely didn’t deserve to have. Eddie knows Steve’s still into Nancy. He heard what they talked about in the upside down. He saw them. He’s not stupid.

Robin, who was talking at him about something he wasn’t really listening to, turns her head to see Jonathan emerge from inside with a fresh case of beer.

Jonathan immediately looks displeased when he spots Steve practically kicking his feet and giggling over his girlfriend, giving Steve a look that could incinerate him on the spot. He looked at Eddie and Robin, and Eddie gave him a tight smile and shrugged.

Jonathan not-so carefully drops the case on the floor, and Robin and Eddie immediately reach down to grab one.

Jonathan then bends down and grabs a beer himself, cracking it open with a hiss. Robin gives him a questioning look.

“Thought you weren’t drinking?” She asks, and Jonathan shrugs as he flops down into a deck chair.

“Wise man once told me a beer or two before driving never hurt.” He sighs, shooting a smirk at Eddie who salutes two fingers at him lazily.

A few minutes later, Dustin has splashed over to the side of the pool, arms folded and leaning on the concrete.

“Hey, Steve!” He calls, and Steve's head snaps round. “Can we do my cake?”

Steve sighs, slapping his knees as he reluctantly stands, probably upset to be torn away from Nancy's side for five minutes, Eddie thinks.

“Alright, nerds, get out the pool then.” He demands, and Dustin throws his hands up in celebration, spraying water at Lucas.

The kids all clamber out the pool, grabbing towels from nearby sunbeds that Steve has put out for them, and Jonathan stands to talk to Nancy, reclaiming his rightful place at her side.

Robin and Eddie follow Steve inside.

They find him in the kitchen, sliding a store bought chocolate cake from the box, and Robin goes for the candles, insisting she has a creative mind and would have better candle placement.

A few minutes later and they’re back outside, Robin scolding Steve as he almost drops the cake as they walk towards the circle the kids have made around the table on Steves patio.

“Munson, lighter.” Steve orders, and Eddie digs around in his pockets for his lighter.

“Yes sir,” He grins, flicking the lighter on and lighting the candles.

Steve then spins around and goes to set the cake on the table, but Dustin stares at him expectantly. Steve gives him a dry look.

“I’m not singing.”

Dustin pouts. “You’ve got to.”

“No.” Steve shakes his head.

Eddie rolls his eyes and nudges Robin.

“Come on, Buckley. We got this, don’t we?”

Robin blinks at him. “Do we?”

Eddie starts dramatically singing happy birthday, and Robin slowly grins and joins in.

Then, the rest of them join in, Max looking very unenthusiastic, and Dustin grinning wildly. Eventually, Steve reluctantly starts mumbling the words.

He sets the cake down infront of Dustin, and he blows the candles out. They cheer.

“What did you wish for?” Lucas nudges him by the shoulder. Dustin glares at him.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true, idiot.”

The night went on, and they kept chatting and laughing. They all ate cake, and Eddie watched Lucas and Max fall into hysterics at Dustin getting cake over his face, and Will smear chocolate icing on Mikes cheek.

At some point, Henderson had yelled at Eddie to stop being boring, and Eddie stood up and started chasing him around the pool until he eventually caught up and practically threw the kid into the water in retaliation.

Eddie had been throwing back beers like they were water, and, stupidly, he had challenged Robin to keep up with him, which she was trying her best to. At some point, he watched Steve stab his key into the side of his can and shotgun it in 3 seconds flat, before crushing the can and throwing it to the ground, throwing his arms out to show off. Eddie and Robin had given him a very enthusiastic round of applause, and Nancy had scoffed, rolling her eyes, while Jonathan sat there, now with his arm around Nancy.

Eddie stood up dramatically and announced that he’s going to the toilet, before heading inside.

As he walks past the kitchen, he glances in to see ginger hair ducked behind the counter.

“Max?” He calls out. The girl shoots up quickly, staring at him, feigning innocence, but she was obviously hiding something.

He looks between the girl and the open case of beer on the kitchen island.

“You sneakin’ beer?” He raises an amused brow. She just scoffs.

“What’s it to you?”

Eddie shrugs. “Hey, i’m no grass, Mayfield. Just don’t let Harrington find you.” She narrows her eyes at him, but he just laughs to himself and spins on his heel, heading to the toilet.

The sun was setting now, and at some point one of the kids had cranked the radio volume up and started dancing, well, doing something that was supposed to be dancing, even Max, which Eddie thinks may be her loosening up from the beer no one else knows she had.

Eddie had been roped into it, and now Dusting was trying to tear Steve up to join in.

“No, Henderson. I don’t dance.” He huffs. Dustin groans.

“What do you mean you don’t dance?” He puts his hands on his hips. “Everyone dances, Steve.”

Thats when Nancy nudges Steves arm.

“I’ve seen you dance, Harrington.” She teases with a smile. “Come on.”

She stands up, and, like a dog, Steve sighs and follows.

“Oh, so you can dance when she asks-“

“Shut it, Henderson.” He hisses.

Eddie can see the grimace on Jonathan's face, and watches as Robin nudges him by the arm and gestures for him to join, and he just shakes his head.

He felt bad for the guy, really. Not because he thought Nancy had any interest in Steve. He thinks she’d sooner kiss Robin. But it must suck. Hanging around your girlfriend's ex boyfriend who used to be a dick but suddenly he’s this amazing guy who’s still trying to steal her back.

What also sucks is the horrible tight feeling in Eddies gut when he catches the way Steve looks at her.

Robin shrugs, and then skips off to grab Nancy’s hand and spin her around, and Eddie sees the small smile on his face at that.

Will strays from the group to go and sit and talk quietly with his brother, and suddenly someone jabs him in the side.

“Earth to Eddie?” Mike grins at him. Eddie gives him a noogie he desperately tries to escape from.

Eddie tries to distract himself with Robins abhorrent dancing, but watches Nancy giggle as Steve spins her around, and then as she gets on her tiptoes and spins Steve around in retaliation, Steve grinning at her like it was the best night of his life.

Not long later, Jonathan stands, making his way over and gently putting a hand on Nancy’s arm to get her attention.

He thinks Jonathan has just asked if they can leave, and Nancy’s saying she wants to stay. Jonathan argues, and Nancy tells him to give a few of the kids rides and come back for her. He looks unhappy, but then begins to heard Will and Mike towards the door.

There's a chorus of groans and complaints, but eventually Lucas and Max decide to leave as well, and Dustin remembers he was supposed to be home about 20 minutes ago.

Jonathan’s muttering something about getting the bikes in the car as he heads inside, Will and Mike trailing behind him, and Steve begins leading the rest of the kids inside.

Nancy, Eddie and Robin follow, laughing about something Robin said.

Dustin gives Steve a hug so tight it could squeeze the life out of him, and thanks him for ‘the beat birthday ever’, and Steve just pats his back and smiles fondly saying it was an honour.

The kids wave and say their goodbyes and Henderson half tackles half hugs Eddie, and he returns the gesture with the same level of aggression.

Then it’s just Nancy and Robin flopped down on the couch and Eddie returning to the armchair, throwing his legs over the armrest casually. The noise of the kids disappear outside and they hear the front door click shut, and about two minutes later, Steve appears in the doorway of the living room, leaning against the doorway with his arms folded in a way that doesn’t make Eddie’s chest flutter at all.

“So,” He grins. “Anyone want a drink?”

Eddie perks up, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Got anything stronger than beer?” He smirks. Steve huffs a laugh and gives him a nod of approval.

“I like your style, Munson.” He turns on his heel and disappears down the hall, and Robin gives him a deadpan look to which he just shrugs innocently.

Steve reappears, a bottle of vodka in one hand and a case of soda in the other, dropping the soda on the coffee table before throwing himself on the couch, forcing Nancy to scooch up as she rolls her eyes.

He unscrews the cap of the bottle, and Robin leans forward. “You stealing that from your parents?” She teases.

Steve shrugs. “Not like they’re around to notice.” He takes a big swig.

He pulls a face, before turning to Eddie grinning, leaning across the armrest and stretching across the gap between the couch and the armchair, holding the bottle out to him. Eddie leans forward and swipes it.

“Thank you, good sir.” He grins, before taking two big swigs himself.

“Jesus, Munson,” Robin snorts, eyebrows raised. “You trying to drink the whole thing?”

Eddie grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just tryin’ to keep up with Harrington. Man drinks like he’s got a hollow leg.”

Steve snorts from the couch, reaching out for the bottle. Eddie tosses it to him, and he catches it with surprising ease, taking a deep pull before handing it off to Nancy.

Nancy eyes it for a moment before shrugging and sipping. “I guess I’m not driving anyway.”

“Atta girl,” Robin cackles, giving her knee a little pat.

They settle into a lazy rhythm of passing the bottle, laughing at stupid stories, Robin recounts some horrific customer encounter at Family Video, and Eddie’s pretty sure Steve might actually cry from laughing. Nancy talks about Hawkins High, about the teacher who still could never figure out the projector, and Eddie’s feeling warm and loose, leaning back with a grin that’s all teeth.

Somewhere along the way, Robin glances at Eddie. “Hey, Munson,” she says, voice lilting with mischief. “I need to ask you something.”

Eddie raises a brow. “Oh? Should I be scared?”

“Terrified,” she deadpans, swinging her legs off Nancy and standing up with a wobble. She grabs Eddie by the arm, tugging him out of the chair with surprising strength. “C’mon. Outside. You need a smoke.”

Eddie blinks but lets himself get pulled up, tossing a glance back at the others. Steve just waves him off, too busy snickering at something Nancy’s whispered to him. Eddie raises a brow but follows Robin out onto the porch, cool night air biting at his flushed cheeks.

Eddie slips a Marlboro Red between his lips and flicks his lighter. They lean against the porch railing, smoke curling around them.

“So,” Eddie drawls, exhaling a plume of smoke. “What’d you drag me out here for, Buckley? Trying to get me alone? Sorry, you’re not really my type.”

Robin snorts, shoving his shoulder. “Please, like I’d stoop that low.”

Eddie laughs, and they fall into easy conversation, talking shit about Hawkins, about Family Video, about the kids. It’s easy with Robin. She doesn’t judge, doesn’t prod too deep, just lets things breathe.

“So, what did you wanna ask me?” He asks slowly, taking another drag. Robin sighs.

“Well,” She starts. “I dunno. It’s stupid.”

Eddie nudges her reassuringly. “Once I was told that there was no such thing as stupid questions.”

“Was that in Bio when you asked what a single cell Orgasm is?” She raises a brow, smirking. Eddie laughs.

“Easy mistake, Buckley.” He defends himself. Robin shakes her head, pulling a face when Eddie blows out smoke a little too close to her.

“No, it’s about… Vicky.” She says slowly.

“What about her?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” She runs a hand through her hair. “I talked to Steve about this, but he wouldn’t get it, cus he’s…”

“Straight?” Eddie raises a brow, but the word feels like a punch to the gut. Robin nods.

“Exactly.” She sighs. “It’s just- I feel like she’s been hinting at me but I can’t tell if she’s just being friendly-“

They then lapse into a long conversation of Robin ranting about every tiny look Vicky gives her and every vague comment that might be slightly suggestive or something other than platonic, and Eddie trying to give her his genuine and unbiased opinion.

After quite some time, his cigarette crushed beneath his boot long ago, they head back inside, Robins mind a little at ease.

When they step back into the living room, however, Steve and Nancy are nowhere to be seen. Not a good sign.

They give each other a look, one that's equal parts amused and horrified.

But then they hear Steves voice from the hall.

“Nance, come on!”

“No, Steve, I just- I’ll see you around, okay?”

The front door closes.

They walk into the hall to find Steve leaning back against the banister of the stairs, running a hand through that amazing, perfect hair of his.

He looks at them. He blinks. He plasters on a grin.

“Hey, guys.” He says way too casually. Robin raises her brows at him and Eddie just narrows his eyes.

“What was that?” She asks, and Steve stands up straight, feigning innocence.

“What? Oh. Jonathan’s just come to pick Nancy up.” He shrugs, pushing past them to go back into the living room.

Eddie blinks.

“That bastard was supposed to be my ride.” He mutters.

Robin laughs, and Steve looks at him over his shoulder.

“Was he?” He throws himself dramatically on the couch. “You can crash here, dude.”

Eddie steps to the side of the couch, hands on hips, staring down at Steve, who's now laying with his hands behind his back, and a slight tension in his brow.

“You sure?”

Steve just gives him an incredulous look and then closes his eyes.

“Yeah. You can take the couch. Or spoon Robin in the spare room. Your choice.”

Robin groans, and Eddie turns to her, grinning, pushing down the weird feeling that's crept up in his chest at the fact he’s apparently close enough to stay the night at Steve Harrington's house.

“Come on, Buckley. You know you want to.”

“Never.”

She yelps as Eddie lurches forward, tackling her from around the waist. Steve cracks his eyes open to laugh at them.

He sits up, reaching for the bottle of vodka on the table, only to find it empty (it was only half full when they started it, to be fair.) He frowns, as Eddie now flops back down onto his now claimed armchair.

“Alright,” Steve says, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. “We need more booze.”

Robin frowns. “I dunno, man. I’m kinda slowing down for the night. I got work tomorrow, remember?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s tomorrow. It’s like…hours from now. We’ve got time.” He glances over at Eddie, eyebrows raised. “You in?”

Eddie gives a lazy grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head. He pushes himself up off the couch, stumbling a little before righting himself.

“I got some whiskey in the cabinet.”

Robin groans. “Oh god, not the whiskey.”

“What’s wrong with whiskey?” Eddie asks, stretching his legs out.

Robin leans forward, whispering conspiratorially, “It makes him weird.”

Eddie’s eyes light up with mischief. “Weird, huh? Now I gotta see that.”

Steve shoots them both a glare before disappearing into the kitchen. Eddie and Robin exchange glances, and then Robin lets out a sigh.

“If he pukes, you’re cleaning it up.”

Eddie chuckles. “Deal.”

A minute later, Steve comes back with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. He sets them on the table, filling them to the brim without much grace.

“Bottoms up.”

Robin grimaces. “You’re trying to kill us.”

Eddie just picks up his glass, clinking it against Steve’s with a grin. “To death by whiskey.”

Steve barks out a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll drink to that.”

They throw back the shots, and Eddie’s pretty sure he can feel his soul leave his body. He coughs, swearing under his breath, and Steve just laughs, slapping him on the back.

And then it begins.

Robin taps out after her second glass, curling up on the couch with a cushion over her head and mumbling something about how they’re both degenerates. Steve just scoffs, tossing a balled-up sock at her, which she chucks right back, hitting him square in the face. Eddie loses it, practically howling with laughter.

“Alright, that’s it!” Steve yells, launching off the couch and tackling Robin, who screeches like he’s just declared war. They roll onto the carpet, limbs tangled, Robin using her elbows to jab Steve’s ribs as he wrestles her into some kind of headlock.

“Jesus, you’re like a bear!” Robin yelps, her voice muffled.

“That’s insulting. Bears are hairy.” Steve laughs, pinning her down just long enough to raise his hands in victory before she kicks him in the shin, sending him sprawling back with a yelp.

“You are hairy!” She yells, laughing, and Eddie scoffs a surprised laugh.

“You two are gonna kill each other.” He says fondly.

Robin clambers back onto the couch, hair a mess, shirt twisted.

“He’s a menace,” she pants, pointing at Steve, who’s already reaching for the whiskey bottle again.

Steve just shrugs, grinning like he hasn’t got a care in the world. “I’m a delight.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Robin snorts, shoving his arm.

Eddie’s still chuckling as he leans back, watching Steve pour another glass. He’s sloppy now, whiskey spilling over the edge, and Steve just laughs, licking it off his hand with zero grace. Eddie’s heart does something weird, but he chalks it up to the booze.

Robin yawns, stretching her arms above her head and blinking slowly like a sleepy cat.

“Alright, children,” she slurs, stumbling slightly as she gets to her feet. “I’m calling it a night.”

Steve, sprawled out on the couch with his head tipped back, barely opens one eye to look at her.

“What? You’re bailing on us?”

Robin scoffs, leaning against the wall for support.

“Some of us actually have things to do tomorrow, dingus. I’m taking the guest room.” She wobbles, pointing a finger between them like she’s accusing them of a crime.

Eddie salutes her from the armchair, bottle dangling from his hand.

“Goodnight, Buckley. Dream of Vicky,” he sing-songs, and she flips him off half-heartedly before shuffling toward the stairs.

“Night, Robs,” Steve calls out, his voice softer, more familiar. Robin throws him a lazy wave over her shoulder and disappears up the steps, her footsteps heavy and uneven. A door clicks shut, and then it’s just Eddie and Steve in the wide, quiet living room.

Steve sighs, patting the cushion next to him. “C’mon, Munson.”

Eddie raises a brow, taking a slow swig from the bottle. “You inviting me to the King’s throne?”

Steve snorts, patting the spot again. “Only ‘cause I’m drunk.”

Eddie grins, dragging himself up and flopping down beside Steve. The couch sinks under their weight, and Eddie stretches out, one arm slung over the back, legs crossed comfortably. He offers the bottle to Steve, who takes it without question, taking a long drink that has him wincing.

They sit like that for a moment, the silence stretching comfortably between them. The clock ticks somewhere in the background, and outside, the wind rustles the trees. It’s a stillness that doesn’t feel awkward or rushed. It’s almost…nice.

“So,” Eddie says finally, his voice cutting through the quiet. “You gonna tell me what that whole thing with Wheeler was about?”

Steve chuckles dryly, handing the bottle back. “Not a chance, Munson.”

Eddie shrugs, not pressing it. He swirls the whiskey around, watching it slosh against the glass. “Fair enough.”

They talk for a while, about Dustin, his birthday, Steve saying the gift Eddie got him was really sweet actually, and Eddie smacking him playfully in retaliation. Eddie tells him about Max stealing a beer, to which he mumbles ‘that little shit…’ and Eddie teases him for being a babysitter.

They talk about highschool. Steve asks about Hellfire club and Corroded Coffin, seeming actually genuinely interested, and Eddie happily starts ranting enthusiastically, drunkenly explaining the rules of D&D, and his most recent campaign, and Steve tilts his head, just listening. Eddie then starts talking about how his friends (Jeff, Gareth and Matty) don’t like Steve, and Steve frowns. Eddie shrugs and tells him it’s because he was an asshole in high school.

“You’re not an asshole now, though.” He reassures quickly, and Steve sorta laughs.

“Thanks?”

Eddie nods, tucking hair behind his ear.

“A pain in the ass, maybe. But… you’re a good dude.”

Steve laughs. “I’d hope so. I saved your life, Munson.”

Eddie gives him a little awkward look, before glancing away.

“Yeah, you did.” He says sorta softly. Steve nudges his arms.

“Hey, don’t get all weird about it.” He offers, leaning in a little. Eddie just scoffs a laugh, barely glancing at him.

“Totally,” He grins, but it’s a little forced. “Not like I owe you my life or anything.”

Steve's brows furrow. “You don’t owe me anything, dude.”

Eddie just chuckles and fiddles nervously with his hair, running it between his fingers.

“Alright, quit it with the damsel in distress act.” Steve teases, trying to lighten Eddie's mood. Eddie snorts.

“Yeah? And you’re my knight in shining armour?”

Steve shrugs cooly, raising a brow and leaning back.

“What can I say?” He says smugly, and Eddie just looks at him deadpan.

“Please,” He says dryly. “You couldn’t even pick me up.”

Steve gives him an incredulous look. “I quite literally did.”

Oh yeah.

Eddie blinks at him.

He clicks his tongue, looking away.

“Don’t believe you.” He huffs.

“You challenging me?” Steve grins, already pushing himself up off the couch. Eddie looks at him, wide eyed.

“Don’t you dare.” He warns, pointing a finger at Steve, but he was already stood in front of Eddie, arms braced.

“No- Steve!” Steve lurches forward, tucking one arm around Eddies shoulders and one under his knees. Eddie desperately tries to fight him off, kicking and half-heartedly shoving against his chest, but he’s laughing, and his heart is thumping like crazy.

“Harrington- you asshole!” He tries to bite out, but hes giggling like a fucking girl, and Steve heaves him up off the couch. Eddie grabs at Steves shoulders as he almost drops him, and he yelps, Steve cracking up into a barking laugh.

Steve, who had obviously over estimated how much heavier Eddie would seem when completely smashed drunk, just drops Eddie back down on the couch, the air getting knocked out of his lungs as he hits the cushions. He attempts to glare up at Steve, fixing his mess of black hair.

Something strange flickers over Steves expression for a second.

“Alright, jackass, it’s on.” Eddie grins, veering forward and tackling Steve by the waist, swinging him around the throw him back down on the couch. Steve lets out a little yelp of surprise before laughing.

He attempts to shove Eddie away by the shoulder, trying to sit up, but Eddie swats his hands away, grabbing his wrist and shoving it away.

“Get off me!” Steve pleads between laughter, and Eddie gives him mercy, sitting back and staring down at him smugly, Steve's brown eyes wide, perfect hair tousled, chest heaving from heavy breaths.

Eddie tries to ignore the warmth creeping inside of him, the soft flutter of his heart.

“I hate you,” He says, but his tone has no heat.

“You love me.” Eddie grins, biting his lip.

And then, for some bizarre reason, they just stare at each other for a second. Eddie swears he can hear his own fucking heartbeat. He was way too drunk for Steve Harrington to just be… staring at him.

Steves brows furrow ever so slightly.

“You know,” He slurs, voice painfully soft. “You’d make a pretty girl.”

Eddie feels like he might throw up. He tears his eyes away.

“You saying i’m not a pretty guy?” He teases, but the soft smirk he plasters on is forced.

Steve sits up, and the smell of whiskey mixes with his stupid, musky cologne, that Eddie could pick out in a crowd.

“No, I-“ He started, before cutting himself off. “That’s not what I meant.

Eddie throws him an amused smile, trying his best to act like he isn’t completely freaking out under the warmth and fuzziness of the alcohol.

Steve sighs, shifting, and leaning back on the back of the couch, drumming his fingers on his thigh. Eddie, for once, can’t think of anything to say.

“You know how you’re, like…” Steve slurs, pausing himself for a second. “Gay?”

Eddie snorts. “I’m quite familiar, yeah.” He teases, but his hands instinctively fidget with his rings, spinning the silver dragon one around his middle finger.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?” Steve asks with genuine curiosity. Eddie raises a brow at him.

“Yeah,” He nods. “Why?”

Steve thinks for a moment. “What’s it like kissing a guy?” He tilts his head, and Eddie's eyes widen a little in surprise.

“You trying to find out?” He says too quickly, in true, ever unserious, Eddie Munson fashion. He’s grinning, but Steve furrows his brows at him.

“Maybe.” He says quietly, too genuinely.

Eddie’s smile fades. His heart skips a beat.

“Is that weird?” Steve adds, frowning a little.

“No,” Eddie assures, then makes a mental note to be more nonchalant. He shrugs. “It’s like… if Robin kissed a guy. You know? It’s not… weird. Its just, whatever. Right?”

Steve blinks at him, then lets out an exhale.

“Would you…” He trails off. “Sorry. This is stupid.”

“If you want to.” Eddie says simply.

But Eddie actually feels like he’s burning from the inside out. The feeling is distant because of the alcohol. But it’s there. Something tightens in his stomach. He wishes he could put the nausea down to the alcohol.

Steve looks at him then, expression unreadable. Debating it. Eddie swallows nervously.

Steve Harringtons eyes drop to his lips. Eddie tries not to move, like he might scare him off if he does.

Then, Steve Harrington sits up, gaze flicking back up to his eyes, giving Eddie plenty of chances to pull away, to make some sort of expression that would show he’s uncomfortable. Eddie just stares at him.

Steves hand raises, almost too quickly for him to really process what the fuck is happening, and his hand is warm and firm on his jaw, fingers tucking into his black curls.

Steve kisses him.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut. It was soft, and a little messy because they’re both abhorrently drunk. It lasts about two seconds. Steve's lips are surprisingly soft, and it's warm, and it makes every nerve in Eddie's body feel like fireworks erupting.

It’s over before he knows it. Just a short, normal kiss. Steve leans back, tucking Eddie's hair behind his ear in a soft gesture, like he’s forgotten it’s Eddie, and not a girl. Not a girl.

Then he sits back, sighing.

Eddie’s frozen, staring at him.

“Not really different from kissing a girl.” He says, painfully casual. Eddie remembers this is casual.

He plasters on a grin. “No?”

Steve shrugs, giving him a small smile. “No.”

“Didn’t turn you, did I?” Eddie teases, and Steve snorts.

“Don’t think so.” He says dryly, smile tugging at his lips.

Eddie grins, sighing as he flops back on the couch, sprawling out, trying to shove down the horrible feeling in his stomach.

“Good,” He mumbles. “Wouldn’t want to break that news to your fanclub.”

Steve scoffs, tilting his head to look at him. “I do not have a fan club.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie grins. “Then what's the meetings I attend every Tuesday for?”

Steve whacks him, laughing.

Eddie, despite himself, is smiling like a madman.

Steve looks over at the now half full whiskey bottle on the coffee table.

Eddie rolls his eyes, twirling his hair absentmindedly. “Daddy gonna notice all his liqours gone?”

Steve glares at him. “You drank, like, half of that, man.”

“Please,” Eddie scoffs. “You practically poured the first three shots down my throat.”

“That’s because you wouldn’t stop talking,” Steve says, smirking. “Figured if your mouth was full of vodka, you’d shut up for five seconds.”

“Ha!” Eddie barks out a laugh, nudging Steve with his elbow. “You secretly love it. Admit it, Harrington. You like my charming personality.”

Steve rolls his eyes but there’s a grin pulling at his lips. “I like that you keep Robin entertained, so I don’t have to.”

“Oh, that’s what this is?” Eddie leans back, stretching his arms across the back of the couch. “I’m just here for Robin’s entertainment?”

“Pretty much,” Steve replies, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re like…a court jester or something.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in mock offense. “You did not just call me a jester.”

“Yeah, I did,” Steve fires back, barely suppressing his laughter. “Dance for me, Munson.” He does a little gesture with his hands, like he’s twirling invisible puppet strings.

“You’re such an asshole,” Eddie laughs, swatting his hand away. “I’m way too drunk for your bullshit right now.”

“Right back at ya,” Steve chuckles, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. “Think I’m gonna head up.” He says it casually, but it makes something dip in Eddie’s stomach.

“Oh,” Eddie says, too quickly. He clears his throat, shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah, yeah. Get your beauty sleep, Harrington. God knows you need it.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, lips quirking up. “I’m naturally gorgeous. You’re just jealous.”

Eddie waves him off. “Yeah, yeah. Go fluff your pillows or whatever it is you rich boys do.”

Steve stands, swaying just slightly before catching his balance. He looks back at Eddie, eyes softer than they should be.

“Night, Munson.”

“Night, Harrington,” Eddie says, leaning back against the couch, stretching his legs out to claim all the space Steve just vacated.

Steve hesitates for a second like he’s about to say something else, but then he just nods and heads for the stairs, footsteps heavy and unsteady. Eddie watches him go, eyes lingering a little longer than they probably should.

The living room feels impossibly big when he’s alone. Eddie sighs, flopping sideways onto the cushions and rubbing a hand over his face.

“Get it together, Munson,” he mutters to himself. But there’s still a stupid grin tugging at his lips.

He had fucking kissed Steve Harrington.

Chapter Text

It had been three days.
Three days since he woke up to Robin Buckley poking him and telling him Steve’s giving her a ride to work so he can give him a ride home, and to hurry up, dingus, she’s going to be late. Since the most horrific hangover, that Steve had helped cure by getting them greasy breakfast muffins from Sammy’s. Since Steve looked at him like nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed.

Between them, atleast.

Everything had changed for Eddie.

He had done quite literally the opposite of what he was supposed to do.

Push it so far down he didn’t feel it anymore.

But now, he felt it harder than he had felt anything in his life.

He lost sleep. Could barely eat. Couldn’t focus on his book.

Like his ability to function had left his body the moment Steve Harringtons lips touched his.

It had taken him 15 minutes after waking up to remember. He was sat in the back of Steve’s car, resting his head against the window, Robin and Steve chatting about the night before, Steve probably way too hungover to be driving, but none of them said anything. He stared out the window, until the vague memory of Steve Harringtons mouth on his popped into his mind.

At first, he’d thought it was some kind of messed up dream. But it was too real. Foggy, from the fragmented memory, but real. The smell of his cologne. The firm hold of his hand. The soft of his lips.

He’d shot up straight, swallowing a hard, dry swallow. Steve had looked at him in the rearview, brow raised, asked what was wrong.

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure if Steve remembered. I mean, he didn’t think Steve would act so normal, if he did. Maybe he did and he really just didn’t care. Eddie prefers to think that Steve doesn’t remember.

Eddie sat in his bed, AC/DC blaring from his stereo, staring at his wall.

He was down fucking bad.

Steve Harrington consumed his every waking thought. And, most of his asleep ones, too. Other than the nightmares, if Eddie had a dream, which, to be fair, was rare, it was something to do with Steve.

He was too far in now. Too far gone to block the thoughts out.

The thoughts, late of night, when he indulged himself. He’d make up little scenarios in his mind of Steve turning to him one day, confessing he’s had some sort of crisis and he’s into guys now, and he’s into him. Him. And Steve would kiss him again, because he wanted to kiss Eddie. And he’d be sober and he’d mean it. And Eddie would run a hand through his hair and it’s be so soft and smell like fancy shampoo, and Steve would smile at him like he smiled at Kate from the diner, like he smiled at Nancy.

He knew it wasn’t good for him. That’d probably just hurt him in the end. But what was he supposed to do?

He tries smoking so much weed he has an existential crisis and passes out. He tries distracting himself.

This was one of these days.

Eddie’s sprawled out on the grass behind the Wheeler’s house, back propped up against the trunk of an old oak tree, legs stretched out in front of him. Mike is balancing on his bike, idly pushing back and forth with his foot, while Will’s lying on his stomach, sketchbook open, pencil scratching quietly over the page. Dustin is a few feet away, dissecting one of those old walkie-talkies, mumbling about wires and frequencies like he’s planning on launching a spaceship from the backyard.

Eddie’s laughing at something Mike said, some snarky comment about gym class that had Will grinning and shaking his head, but the sound feels foreign even to his own ears. It’s a little too loud, a little too sharp, like he’s trying to convince himself that everything’s normal.

But it’s not.

Though here he is now, sprawled out with the kids, trying to be normal. Trying to act like everything is fine and like Steve Harrington hadn’t kissed him and turned his entire universe upside down.

“You okay, dude?” Mike’s voice cuts through his thoughts, sharp and direct. He’s stopped wobbling on his bike and is now staring right at Eddie with raised eyebrows.

“Huh?” Eddie blinks, dragging himself back to reality. “Yeah, man. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Mike shrugs, but his gaze is skeptical. “I don’t know. You’re just, like...laughing weird.”

Eddie snorts. “Laughing weird? I didn’t know you were a critic of my vocal performances, Wheeler.”

Mike just rolls his eyes, but Will glances up from his sketchbook, his pencil pausing mid-shade.

“You’re kinda...spaced out,” Will adds softly.

Dustin finally looks up from his pile of walkie-talkie parts, adjusting his hat. “Wait, are you high?” he asks, squinting at Eddie like he’s trying to solve a math problem.

Eddie lets out a laugh, an actual, genuine laugh this time.

“Christ, Henderson. You think I’d waste good weed just to sit around in Wheelers backyard?” He leans back against the tree, crossing his arms. “I’m just...y’know. Chilling. Being normal.”

Dustin snorts. “Yeah, well, you’re doing a terrible job of it.”

“Eat shit, Henderson,” Eddie fires back, chucking a stray acorn at him. It bounces off Dustin’s shoulder, and he barely flinches, just grinning back at Eddie with that gap-toothed smile.

But still, Eddie can feel the way Will’s eyes linger on him, like he’s trying to piece together something that doesn’t quite fit. Eddie just flashes him a grin, big and toothy, and stretches his arms out like he hasn’t got a single worry in the world.

He’ll take this to his fucking grave.

But God, does he wish he didn’t have to.

Nancy comes marching out of the house with the precision of a drill sergeant, her heels clicking sharply against the concrete path. Her eyes are locked on Mike, who immediately groans.

“C’mon, Nance,” Mike complains, still balancing on his bike. “We’re not even doing anything!”

Nancy crosses her arms, unimpressed. “Mom says you haven’t done your chores yet. She’s not gonna keep letting you slack off just because you’re-” She glances around at the group, her eyes pausing just for a fraction of a second too long when they land on Eddie. Her jaw tightens. “-just because you’re out here playing pretend.”

Mike sighs dramatically, but it’s obvious he’s going to go inside because, well, Nancy doesn’t really lose these battles. He grumbles under his breath as he wheels his bike toward the back door.

“Later, losers,” he tosses over his shoulder, and Will just waves back, barely looking up from his sketchbook.

Nancy watches him disappear inside, her eyes still narrowed, hands planted on her hips. Eddie tries not to look at her, really he does, but the silence stretches out a little too long, a little too thick, and eventually, he glances up.

Her eyes are already on him.

It’s awkward. Painfully awkward. Her gaze flickers, just slightly, and then her lips press into a tight, polite smile. Eddie musters one back, something casual and easy, even though it feels like his skin is too tight all of a sudden. He thinks about three nights ago, about Robin and him going out for a smoke, about the way Steve had been looking at her all night, eyes soft and almost...hopeful.

About how when they got back, Nancy was leaving, and tensions were high, even if Steve refused to acknowledge it.

Nancy turns to follow her brother, and go back into the house, but Eddie is standing up before he knows it, jogging over to her.

“Wheeler,” He says, getting her attention, making her spin around with a look of slight annoyance.

“Yeah?” She sighs as Eddie sidles up to her, and Eddie studies her, taking a moment to actually think about what to say.

“I, uh,” He starts, folding his arms and rocking on his heels. “Wanted to ask what happened. At the party?” He lowers his voice, even though Dustin seems to have fallen into annoying Will and distracting him from his drawing.

Nancy flinches, her expression flickering into something unreadable for a second, before she gives an exasperated sigh.

“It’s nothing.”

“Steve say something stupid?” He tilts his head carefully. Nancy smirks.

“You could say that.”

Eddie just looks at her for a moment, brows furrowed. He doubts he’s going to get anything more out of her.

He sighs. “Alright,” He says, dramatically unfolding his arms and letting them fall back to his sides. “Just… let me know if you want me to punch him or something.” He offers, grinning.

Nancy gives a little laugh. “Thanks, Munson.” She gives him a little smile, before turning and stepping away.

Then, she spins round. “He could easily take you in a fight, though.”

Eddie gasps in mock offence. “How dare you.”

She laughs as she spins back around, disappearing into the Wheeler's house.

Eddie grins a little, before turning towards Dustin and Will, who were now, unfortunately, staring at them. Eddie just gives them a deadpan look.

“What?” He asks dryly, walking back over, hands shoved in pockets.

Dustin stares at him like he’s an equation he can’t figure out.

“Dude,” He starts, as Eddie flops back down under the tree, and Dustin just stands there, hands on hips. “What happened after the party? You’re all acting weird.”

Eddie gives him an incredulous look. “No ones acting weird, Henderson.”

Will scoffs softly, almost to himself, and Eddie shoots him a look.

“You are!” Dustin continues, laughing now, mostly out of annoyance for not knowing. “You, Steve, Nancy, apparently- what happened?”

“Steves acting weird?” Eddie said almost too quickly. Dustin looks at him in utter confusion, Will looking at him from behind his sketchbook in slight surprise.

“So you’re admitting that you’re acting weird.” He says plainly.

“No, idiot, I just-“ Eddie breathes, exasperated. “You seem to think everyone is. And I would love to know why, Sherlock.” He says dryly, narrowing his eyes, resting his arms on his knees and internally cursing himself for messing up.

“C’mon, man, just tell us what happened.” Will pipes up, sketchbook now set down, fully invested.

“Nothing happened.” Eddie says, voice firm with conviction.

Dustin and Will look at each other for a beat, before Dustin sighs, collapsing to the grass because he knows better than to keep being insistent with Eddie. As stubborn as Henderson is, Eddie is more stubborn.

Eddie leans his head back against the tree, and as the other two stay in defeated silence for a while, and Eddie just thinks back to Nancy Wheeler and her soft, curly hair and big brown eyes and soft skin and kind smile and the fire in her eye.

He can’t help the awful, sinking feeling in his chest.

—-

Five days.

Five days since.

The bell above the door of Family Video jingles as he, reluctantly, pushes open the door.

He was only here to give Robin back her tape recorder. He’d got what he wanted from it, recorded a song for Corroded Coffin, since Gareths got smashed. He’s keeping the tape, obviously. He just needed to give Robin the recorder back.

He’s already put it off long enough.

It’s fine. In and out. Not even five minutes. Maybe he’d be lucky and Steve’ll be in the back and he won’t even see him.

He forces an easy grin, trying to look as relaxed and as ‘Eddie’ as possible, and Robin, behind the counter, spots him.

“Eddie!” She smiles. “Hey!”

He sidles up to the counter with his usual casual swagger, trying not to so obviously glance around to see if Steve’s around.

“Hey, Buckley.” He says, sliding the tape recorder across the counter. “Got this for you.”

Robins eyes widen. “Oh, thanks.” She grabs it, putting it behind the register.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” He says, leaning his arms on the counter.

“No problem,” She smiles, shrugging. “It was getting dusty under my bed anyway.”

Eddie laughs.

“You sure you don’t need it longer?” She asks, leaning her hip against her side of the counter.

“Yeah,” He nods. “Gareth’s gettin’ a new one this week, so.”

“Oh, cool.” She says. “It’s his birthday, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” He smiles. “The big 1-8.”

“Great,” She grins, tilting her head. “You’ll finally have more friends who aren’t kids.” Eddie tuts in offence.

“At Least I have friends.” He grins teasingly, and Robin rolls her eyes.

“I have plenty of friends,” She corrects, turning back to the small pile of returns she's sorting through.

“Such as?” Eddie prompts, leaning further over the counter.

Robin shoots him a look. “You,” she counts on her fingers. “Steve,” Eddie almost flinches, anxious he might hear his name and emerge from where Eddie assumes he’s out the back. “Uh…” Robin hesitates.

Eddie scoffs a laugh.

“Nancy!” She exclaims, pointedly ticking off a third finger. “Vicki.” She raises a brow.

“Oh, come on.”

“What? She is my friend.” Robin narrows her eyes at him.

Eddie leans in, lowering his voice, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Not for long, let’s hope.”

Robin smacks his arm. “Shut up.”

Eddie just shrugs, laughing. “Well, that’s more than I thought, anyway. You’ve exceeded my expectations.”

“You’re such an ass.” She grumbles, sorting the tape of Footloose into a pile.

“Careful, you might lose a number.”

Robin shoots him a glare. “I’ll get Steve to kick you out.”

Eddie grins, leaning back and smacking the counter. “You won’t have to. I better go.”

Robin furrows her brows. “Really?”

“What?” He shrugs. “I’m a busy man.”

Robin huffs a laugh. “Sure, whatever.”

Just as Eddie’s about to spin around and walk away, Robin pipes up again. “You sure you don’t wanna hang around and annoy us more? You haven’t even said hi to Steve.”

Eddie freezes, before spinning back around.

“Uh, really. Places to be, Buckley.” He makes a gesture of checking his digital watch. “Just tell him I say hi.”

Robin studies him for a second, and Eddie’s a little afraid that she might actually figure him out, realise that he is, infact, avoiding Steve.

That is when Steve Harrington emerges from the small back room with a cardboard box of tapes in his arms.

Shit.

“Just tell me yourself,” He smirks, dropping the box on the counter. “Little rude to leave without even saying hi.”

Eddie blinks at him. Then he scoffs. “Hi.” He says dryly, doing a dramatic, annoyed wave.

Steve laughs.

God fucking damn it.

“So, what’ve you got going on that’s more important than pissing us off?” He asks, glancing up at him as he starts taking tapes out the box, and Robin watches him with an annoyed expression, presumably because she’s gonna have to sort through them.

“Uh,” Eddie hesitates. What does Eddie have to do? “I’ve got, uh, Corroded Coffin.” He shrugs, casually.

Robin raises a brow. “Thought you weren’t practicing until after Gareths birthday?”

Steve gives him a little glance of intrigue.

Shit.

“Yeah, well, we aren’t playing. We’re just gonna, like-“ He quickly scans the store. One guy in the action section with headphones in, attached to a walkman, and a couple in the comedies fighting over whether they should watch Ghostbusters or The Goonies. “Smoke, and shit. Y’know.”

Robin raises her brows at him and nods, accepting this answer. Steve gives him a little smirk of approval.

Good.

“When’re you coming by again, though?” Steve asks, barely even looking at him. Eddie feels every nerve in his body freeze up.

Steve’s asking when he’s coming back. Why? Steve wants to see him? Oh no.

“Uh,” Eddie swallows, and Robin is staring at him way too hard right now. He just shrugs. “Don’t know. Thought I just annoyed you, Harrington.” He grins.

Steve huffs a laugh. “You do. But you didn’t come in on Tuesday. You always do.”

Eddie's gut tightens. Steve remembers when he comes in. God, he knew seeing Steve was not going to be easy.

Eddie rakes through his hair with one hand. “What can I say? I was busy.”

Steve raises a brow at him.

“But if you’re so desperate to see me, Stevie,” He puts his hands on his hips, sighing. “Probably friday.”

Steve grins. “Cool.” He goes back to pulling tapes out the box, clattering them on to to counter.

Eddie stays there, frozen for a second, before clicking his tongue. “Cool.” He repeats, spinning back around, towards the door.

“Bye, idiot!” Robin sing-songs. Eddie raises a hand and gives it a quick wave, not turning around, before making it to the door and swinging it open, stepping back out onto the cracked pavement.

He turns and starts walking down the street.

“Cool.” He says under his breath.

Jesus christ.

Steve asked when he was gonna see him again. Like he wanted to see him. And his hair is dumb and perfect and he’s so stupid because how does he look good in that awful uniform and he laughed at Eddie being an idiot and his laugh was stuck somewhere awkward between Eddie’s ribs, jabbing into his heart like cupids fucking arrow.

Eddie was royally fucking screwed.

Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights in Family Video flicker with that familiar, irritating buzz as Steve locks up the cash register for the night. Robin is busy stacking the last few tapes onto the "New Releases" shelf, humming something off-key and snapping her gum obnoxiously every few seconds. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Do you have to do that?” he calls out, finishing up with the register and grabbing the keys.

Robin snaps her gum even louder, like it’s her own personal act of rebellion. “Do you have to complain every time I do?” she retorts, not even looking up from the stack of movies she’s attempting to organize alphabetically.

Steve flips the keyring around his finger a couple of times before slipping it into his back pocket. “I’m just saying, you’re gonna chew a hole through your jaw one of these days.”

“Then I’ll just have a cooler scar than you,” she fires back, dusting her hands off and making her way over to the counter. “Anyway, you done yet, dingus? Vicky’s got a late shift at Melvald’s, and I was thinking of just...happening to walk by.” She raises her eyebrows in that exaggerated way that says she’s not fooling anyone.

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Stalking isn’t endearing, Buckley.”

“Uh, it’s not stalking. It’s...strategic coincidence.”

He snorts, leaning his hip against the counter as she hops up to sit next to the register. For a moment, everything feels normal. The way it always does. Him and Robin, bantering and teasing, trading barbs and movie quotes. It’s good. Solid.

But there’s this thing hanging over him. This weight that’s been sitting heavy in his chest since that damn party.

He almost forgets about it during the day. Almost. He distracts himself with shelving tapes, flirting with customers, arguing with Robin. But it creeps back in when the sun dips low, and Family Video gets quiet, and it’s just him and his thoughts again.

Robin swings her feet, glancing at him sideways. “You alright, dingus? You’re being weirdly quiet. That’s my thing, not yours.”

Steve blinks, snapping out of whatever fog he was in. He musters up that easy smile he’s perfected over the years. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous,” she teases.

“Bite me.”

She grins wide, tilting her head. “You sure you’re good?”

“Promise.” His voice doesn’t even shake. He’s proud of that. Because there’s no way he’s gonna unpack this now. Not here. Not with Robin looking at him like she could pry his secrets right out of his skull if she stared long enough.

He thinks about Nancy. Thinks about her voice cracking in his living room, her eyes filled with tears as she muttered, “You don’t know what you want, Steve. You never have.”

And maybe she’s right. Maybe he’s still the same damn guy he’s always been. Confused and desperate for someone to just… get him.

“Earth to Harrington,” Robin says, waving her hand in front of his face. “You just zoned out for like a solid minute. That’s creepy. Are you sure you’re not on something?”

He laughs, actually laughs, and it feels good, natural. “Just sleep-deprived. I’ve been dealing with Henderson and his little army of nerds more than usual lately.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, unconvinced but letting it go. She hops off the counter, dusting her hands. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s get outta here before Keith remembers we’re still on the clock and makes us alphabetize the horror section again.”

Steve chuckles and grabs his jacket off the hook. “Fine by me.”

He follows her out, locking the door behind him. And as they walk to the car, Steve tries not to think about Nancy Wheeler and her soft hair and big brown eyes and the way she never really loved him.

The fluorescent glow of Family Video flickers out as Steve locks up, the metallic clink of the key ringing out in the empty lot. He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and nods his head toward the car. Robin, still snapping her gum with wild enthusiasm, falls into step beside him.

“You know, you could really work on your locking-up skills,” she says, elbowing him in the side. “Takes you like ten minutes every time. You’re gonna be an old man before we even get to Melvald’s.”

Steve rolls his eyes, clicking the lock button one more time just to be sure. “I’m thorough. That’s called being responsible.”

“That’s called being paranoid.”

He snorts, leading the way to the familiar sight of his BMW, parked right under the single, flickering street lamp. Robin beelines for the passenger seat, trying to tug the door open before Steve’s even unlocked the car.

“Impatient, much,” Steve deadpans, climbing into the driver's side as she flops into the passenger seat, messing with her hair in the mirror in the sunblocker. Steve just scoffs, twisting the key in the ignition. The engine growls to life, and the radio buzzes on, flooding the car with static before settling into some local rock station. He turns it down just a bit, enough to hear himself think, and glances in the rearview mirror.

Robin’s drumming her hands against her knees, her eyes already bright with the thrill of seeing Vicky. Steve bites back a grin.

“You gonna puke in my car this time?” he teases.

Robin’s eyes narrow. “That was one time. And it wasn’t even because of Vicky, it was because-”

“-because you drank half a bottle of wine cooler like it was juice,” Steve finishes for her.

“You’re lucky I’m not driving,” she mutters.

“Yeah, you and the rest of Hawkins.”

They drive in comfortable silence for a minute, until Steve feels Robin's eyes on him. He tries to ignore it, before he sighs, caving.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She says innocently, crossing her arms and looking ahead.

“You’re being weird.” Steve complains, tapping the wheel.

Robin gasps. “I’m being weird?” She scoffs. “You’re being weird, Steve Harrington.”

Steve gives her a quick glance, brows furrowed.

“I am not being weird.” He says, huffing a laugh.

“Oh, you so are. You have been since the party.”

“Will you quit it with that?” Steve’s grip tightens on the wheel. This isn’t the first time she’s brought up the party in the last few days.

“Please, Steve. I can tell when you’re not telling me something.” She laughs bitterly.

“There’s nothing to tell.” He says dryly.

Robin groans. “There so is, and it’s totally unfair that you’re not telling me, cus i’m your best friend, and you’re obligated to tell me everything.”

Steve scoffs a laugh. “I am not,” He side eyes her. “You’re just nosy.”

Robin leans back in her seat, huffing in annoyance. “Just spill it before I lose my mind.”

“Spill what?”

“Nancy, dingus!” She exclaims. “What happened with Nancy?”

Steve's heart sinks. He knows Robin and Eddie could tell something happened that night. Why else would Nancy have stormed out after they’d been left alone together for a few minutes? Obviously, because Steve did something fucking stupid. Again.

“Unfortunately, we’re nearing your stop, Buckley. Outta time.” Steve shrugs, flicking the indicator on.

“No,” Robin barks, leaning over and flipping the indicator back off.

“Hey, what the fuck-” Steve almost yelps.

“Keep going.” She demands. Steve regains control of the wheel and keeps going down the road, missing the turn for Melvald’s.

“You’re gonna fucking kill us, woman.” Steve scolds. “What about Vicki?”

“This is more important.” She says with such firmness that Steve glances at her, stunned. “So, I’ve missed seeing her for this, Harrington. This better be good.”

Steve sighs, checking his mirrors just for something to do.

“Spill!” Robin gestures impatiently.

“It’s stupid.” Steve scoffs, brushing off the heavy feeling in his chest. “We were drunk, and I just… I just said something stupid. And it… upset her. That’s all.”

Robin stares at him for a few beats. Steve doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from the road.

“Well, I guessed that much, idiot!” She rolls her eyes. “What did you say?” She says more as a demand than a question.

Steve hesitates.

“I can’t- I mean, I was really drunk, Robin! I barely remember-”

“Oh, bull-shit, Steve!” She practically shouts, and Steve flinches. “What, you confess your love to her or something?”

“No! No. Nothing like… like that.” He drums his fingers on the wheel nervously.

“So?” She prompts. Steve bites the inside of his cheek, the awkwardness of that night creeping back up inside of him.

“I just…” He starts. “I said something stupid about how… I don’t know… how I think we could… work. Or could’ve worked, if we really tried. Or something.”

There’s a long pause, and Steve takes a quick glance, immediately regretting it when he sees Robin gawking at him.

“You’re such an idiot.” She mutters. Steve groans.

“I know, alright? I know.” He rushes out, annoyed.

Robin just shakes her head, falling back into her seat. “When are you gonna accept it, dude?” She says, tone softer now. “She’s happy. With Jonathan.”

The words feel like a punch in the face. He knows.

But he never knows how to give up, apparently.

“I know.” He says quietly.

He doesn’t want to look at her. He knows she’ll be giving him some sappy, pitiful look.

“It’s just-” He starts again, unhelpfully. “She’s… She’s the only person I've ever loved, Robin.”

Robin sighs, but it’s sad.

“Are you sure it’s not because she’s the only one you can’t have?” She says carefully. Steve gives her a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

Robin sighs, calculating her words. “I mean, you go on a date every week, Steve, most of the time with different girls. You could have quite literally any girl you want,” She explains. “But you’re hung up on the one girl you dated a few months in highschool.”

Steve huffs, offended.

“Nancy’s different.”

“I know,” Robin says a little more softly. “I get it.”

There’s a slightly awkward pause, and Steve can tell Robin’s not finished by the way she’s fidgeting.

“But,” There it is. “You just… I don’t know. I think you just want someone to get you, Steve.”

Oh. Steve blinks. He feels a little nauseous.

“You’re a real romantic. Real lover boy, I mean, some of the stuff you come out with is Rom-com worthy.” She says, almost like she’s telling a story. Steve shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “I think you just want someone to love you, the way you love them.”

Steve swallows. He glances at Robin, not entirely knowing what to say.

“When did you get all wise?” He mutters, and Robin huffs a laugh.

“Always have been.” She grins.

“So, what? You’re convincing me i’m not still in love with Nancy?” He asks dryly.

Robin shrugs. “Maybe you are. I just think you’re in love with the idea of her. That she could… get you. Like, after all this shit we’ve been through. You’ve been through. You know?”

She pauses, and Steve is feeling a little too sick to say anything. His stomach has twisted into one of those elaborate knots he learnt in Scouts when he was a kid. Mostly because he has a terrible feeling Robin’s right. As per usual.

“And I guess maybe the fact that she’s just outta reach, that she’s, like, the one you can’t have, that could be, I dunno, maybe you’re bored of getting what you want all the time-“

“I don’t get what I want all the time,” Steve scoffs. “I’ve been rejected before.”

“Yeah, not by a girl you used to really be into. A girl that used to really be into you.” Robin emphasises. “You know what I mean.” She rolls her eyes.

Steve furrows his brows and looks at the road signs ahead, realising he doesn’t exactly know where he’s even going.

“So what, philosopher Buckley?” He sighs. “I’m not really into Nancy?”

“You tell me.” Robin shrugs.

Steve scoffs.

Then he thinks about it.

Maybe he was just in love with the idea of her. He guesses he barely even knows who Nancy is anymore. Outside of what he knows from high school, and saving the world. It makes sense, right? None of the girls Steve dates now would understand that, would they? What he’s been through? Not that he’s ever really thought that matters.

Robin’s right. He just wants someone to love him. Love him enough to let him love them.

He thought… he thought Nancy was supposed to be the one. She was, once. Well, not really. Apparently, she never even really loved him.

But it was real to him.

Seeing her again, in the upside down. He convinced himself it was supposed to be her. He saw her relationship with Jonathan being rocky, and the old, dull spark of hope in his chest lit up again.

Maybe he just wasn’t ready to admit it was never going to be her. Maybe it was never supposed to be.

Steve never really knew how to get over things. His heart was so full and he had nowhere to put it. Sometimes he cried in the shower after a date with a new girl didn’t go well. He thought for days about if a girl was gonna call him after he’d given her his number.

Everyone thought he didn’t really care. Thought he liked going on dates with different girls, the casual sex, the low commitment. He didn’t. He wanted something real.

Well, Robin knows. And Nancy.

For fucks sake, Steve just wanted to know he wasn’t unlovable. Wanted someone to know him, and like him anyway.

Maybe that's another reason why he’s hung up over her. She knew him.

And… maybe there was another reason, too.

That thought scared him more than anything else.

So much so he’s convincing himself he’s still in love with Nancy so he didn’t have to face it.

“Maybe you’re right.” Steve says quietly, after the car had been silent for a solid minute.

“Yeah?” Robin asks softly.

“Maybe I'm not in love with Nancy.” Steve says, mostly to himself, like he needs to say it out loud.

“There we go.” Robin smiles. “See? Robin’s always right.”

Steve sighs, staring straight ahead.

They’re quiet again, and Steve takes a turning towards Sammy’s.

“What’s wrong?” Robin asks after a minute.

“Nothing.” Steve says tightly.

“There’s something else,” She prompts, seeming annoyed by Steve being all vague and untelling again.

Steve sighs, pulling into Sammy’s, and he parks up in silence.

He turns the ignition off, already upset by the lack of distraction of driving.

He looks at Robin then, hesitating.

He really has no idea what she’s going to say. How she’ll react. He drums his fingers on his thighs nervously. I mean, it’s not a big deal, right? Why was he making it a big deal?

“I, uh.” He clears his throat. “I kissed Eddie.”

The car was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. He stares at his shoes like they’re the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. Eventually, he drags his eyes to meet hers.

She’s looking at him in complete and utter shock.

“WHAT?” She practically shrieks. It makes Steve jump.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just- it’s not a big deal!” He scolds her, huffing.

“Steve,” she insists, putting a hand on his arm. “You- what?”

Steve shrugs a little, and looks out the window, before looking back at her. “We where both really fucking drunk, like, so drunk I didn’t remember until the next night, drunk. Okay? It was just… I dunno. It just happened.”

“How?” Robin hisses. “You don’t just slip and fall and kiss a guy, dingus!”

Steve gives her an awkward, pained look. Robin's expression immediately dissolves into concern.

“Oh, god, what happened?”

“I…” He half groans, half sighs. “He, like… came out to me. About two weeks ago.”

Robin raises her brows in surprise, before she looks so worried she could vomit.

“I didn’t know about that.” She says quietly.

“Yeah.” Steve breaths. “And I… I think I was talking to him about… fuck.”

“Steve.” She says, voice soft with a mix of concern and pity.

“I don’t know. I guess i’ve been thinking about it recently. Not really. I don’t know.”

“Thinking about what?” She retracts her hand, placing it on her own instead, now sat cross-legged in the seat, facing him. “Kissing him?”

“No!” Steve says too quickly. “Just… I don’t know. A guy.”

Robin takes a long exhale, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Okay.” She says eventually.

“What?” Steve looks at her like a kicked puppy.

She sighs. “That’s just… I didn’t expect it. From you.”

Steve groans, running his hands over his face.

“This doesn’t-“ He starts. He pauses. “I’m not gay, right?”

Robin scoffs. “I can’t tell you that,”

Steve disappears to the safety behind his hands.

“But I can say that thinking about kissing guys makes you a little gay.” She snorts. Steve whacks her. But he’s grinning a little now, his heart a little eased.

“So,” He says after a moment of letting the peace sink in. “What do I do now?”

Robin thinks for a moment, looking out the window at cars passing on the main road. She then whips back to him with an urgent expression.

“Wait,” She starts, tilting her head a little in concern. “You didn’t kiss him because you were upset about Nancy, did you?”

Steve blinks at her.

“I mean, I thought I did.” He looks confused himself.

He is confused.

He is very fucking confused.

About five minutes ago he was convinced Nancy Wheeler was the love of his life.

Now he’s debating if he’s gay or not for kissing Eddie Munson.

What the fuck.

His stomach feels like it was in turmoil, and his hands are sweating so much he has to wipe them on his jeans. What a fucking rollercoaster of a conversation.

Robin, who looks like she’s trying to work out the world's hardest equation, hums to herself.

“So, question is, did you kiss Eddie because you were upset about Nancy, or were you so invested in Nancy to try and distract yourself from Eddie?” She says, like its simple.

Steve gives her an alarmed look. “Woah, hey,” He says, bewildered. “This has nothing to do with Eddie.”

Robin gives him a surprised laugh. “Uh, yeah, dude. It sorta has a lot to do with Eddie.”

Steve clicks his tongue, scoffing, folding his arms as he falls back against his seat, looking away from her.

“Totally does not. I am not…” He pauses. “Look, I don’t even think I'm into guys, alright?” He says defensively, and the little smirk Robin gives him makes him want to punch her in the face.

“Really, Steve?”

Steve looks at her like she’s the biggest idiot he’s ever met.

“Robin, do you know how much sex I have? With girls? And I love it, okay? I love boobies.” He ignores the groan of disgust Robin gives him. “I mean, I know that. For a fact. So I can’t… it’s physically impossible for me to be gay.”

That’s what he’s been telling himself, at least.

“You know you can like both?” Robin half-laughs.

Steve whips round and looks at her, alarmed.

What?

“What?” He splutters.

Robin gives him an amused look. “Yeah, dingus. It’s called being bisexual.”

He blinks at her, a horrible, sinking feeling in his chest.

“What?” He says again, like it's all he knows how ro say.

Robin, rudely, laughs at him.

This is not funny.

“Yeah, it’s pretty simple.” She tilts her head, seemingly finding Steve's crisis increasingly entertaining. “You can like… boobies,” she forces out, seeming disappointed in herself. “And, you can like… penises?” She looks unsure.

“Oh my god never say that again.” Steve groans.

“What, penises?” She grins, as Steve grimaces. “Now you know how I feel.”

“But, I- I don’t even know what’s going on, Robin!” He gestures wildly, irritated, mostly by himself. “I’ve never… how’ve I never known? I feel like I would’ve known by now!” He smacks the wheel in annoyance.

“Cus you’re king Steve.” She says with an amused grin. “You were who you were supposed to be. I mean, hey, some people don’t figure it out until they’re middle aged.”

“That sucks!” Steve raises his voice. Robin laughs.

“Yeah, doesn’t it?” She says dryly.

Steve groans again, slumping down in his seat dramatically, covering his face again.

Robin puts a hand on his shoulder in an attempt at comforting him.

“Well, at least you’ve got me, hey?” She offers, sort of awkwardly. Robin Buckley is not amazing at comforting people. Steve knows she’s trying. “I had to figure this shit out all on my own.”

“Then how do I figure it out, Rob?” He asks pathetically. “How do I figure out if I'm into guys, or if I'm just confused? Having some sort of weird crisis because my brains all fucked up?”

He knows he looks awful. He knows his face is contorted in confusion and maybe fear and urgency. Because Robin is looking at him in that weird, soft way.

She sighs, snapping her gum that she's still chewing, and thinks for a moment, looking out the window.

Then, she shrugs, and like it’s the most casual thing in the world, throws out- “I don’t know, jerk off to a guy in a magazine or something.”

Steve straightens, choking on nothing out of shock.

“WHAT?”

Robin bursts out laughing.

“I don’t know, man!” She yelps. “I’m, like, the worst at advice!”

Steve can feel the heat in his face, but Robins too distracted giggling to herself. He huffs a deep breath, slumping back down, brows still furrowed.

“I mean,” She gasps, calming herself down. “If you can get off to a shirtless guy, then you’re definitely into dudes.”

Steve, finally, huffs a laugh.

“This is ridiculous.” He half-laughs, but he also feels like he wants to cry.

“Hey, I never thought I'd be having this conversation either.” She smiles, the air a little lighter now.

They sit in silence for a minute, letting the weight of the conversation settle over them.

Steve has been given a lot to think about.

For one, that he maybe wasn’t so in love with Nancy as he thought he was.

For another….

“Where would I even get a magazine like that anyway?” He raises a brow, and Robin laughs again. “I mean, all the ones I ever see are girls.” He adds, looking at Robin in curiosity.

She grins, tilting her head and leaning forward a little. “You’re just not looking in the right places.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” She leans an elbow on the centre console. “You should see Eddie’s collection.”

Steve's face scrunches up in disgust. “Ew, dude.” She sniggers again.

“Anyway, not like I can go into a store and buy one, can I?” He says plainly, folding his arms.

Then, an idea clicks in his mind.

He turns to look at Robin with an inspired expression.

Robins face falls.

“No.” She says, low with conviction.

Steve throws his hands up. “Come on! Nobody would bat an eye if it was a girl buying it!” He argues. “You said you were gonna help me.” He says pointedly, and Robin scoffs.

“I never said that.

“You implied it.” He raises his brows, pushing it.

Robin groans, thunking her head against the headrest in annoyance.

——

The harsh lights of the convenience store flicker with a low hum, casting a sickly glow over the aisles. Robin trails behind Steve with her arms crossed, brows knitted into a look of pure reluctance.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she hisses, glancing around like they’re about to get jumped by the morality police.

Steve, standing in front of the magazine rack with his hands in his pockets, raises an eyebrow. “C’mon, you’re acting like I’m asking you to rob a bank.”

“This is worse,” she mutters. “This is so much worse. Why can’t you just-”

“Because I can’t!” Steve whisper-yells back, eyes darting around. There’s only one other guy in the store, a grumpy-looking dude behind the counter who’s too busy reading a newspaper to pay them any mind, but still, Steve lowers his voice. “Look, you’re... you’re you. It’s not weird if you’re seen buying one of these.”

Robin’s eyes widen, and she jabs a finger at him. “Not weird?! Do you have any idea how much of a walk of shame this is gonna be? I’m gonna have to make eye contact with that guy.” She gestures wildly toward the cashier, who’s still oblivious to their conversation.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Just pretend you’re buying it as a... as a gift or something.”

Robin stares at him, deadpan. “A gift.”

“Yeah!” Steve nods, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Like... a birthday present. Or a... uh... a joke.”

“A joke?”

“Yeah, you know, like... ‘Ha ha, here’s a... dirty magazine for your birthday!’” Steve does jazz hands, and Robin just stares at him, unimpressed.

“You are unbelievable,” she mutters, turning back to the rack. Her fingers hover awkwardly over the glossy covers before she yanks her hand back like she’s been burned. “Why are all these dudes so... oiled up? It’s like they’ve been basted for Thanksgiving.”

Steve snorts, biting back a laugh. “Isn’t that, like... your dream come true? Except, you know... lady-shaped.”

Robin gags. “I’m not a walking hormone like you, Harrington.” She flips one of the magazines over, cringing at the cover. “Ugh, what is he doing with that banana?”

“Probably eating it?” Steve guesses, squinting over her shoulder. “Or... not.”

Robin shoves the magazine back into the rack like it’s radioactive. “I’m gonna need therapy after this. I hope you know that.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” Steve grins, poking her in the side. “Just pick one and let’s go. I’m dying of old age over here.”

Robin glares at him but finally huffs and grabs one with a guy on the front who’s got abs for days and a grin like he knows it.

“This one good enough for you, Your Majesty?” she deadpans, holding it up.

Steve’s face goes bright red, and he glances around again before nodding quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s... fine.”

Robin waves it in his face, her grin returning. “You sure? What if he’s not your type? I mean, look at him. He’s practically sculpted. Is that what you’re into, Harrington? All shiny and greased up?”

“Would you just go pay for it?!” Steve whisper-yells, smacking her arm.

“Fine, fine!” she grumbles, marching toward the counter like she’s heading for the gallows. Steve watches with a mixture of horror and amusement as she slaps the magazine down, avoiding eye contact with the cashier entirely.

The guy behind the counter barely blinks, ringing it up with the enthusiasm of someone dead inside. Robin hands over the cash, snatches the brown paper bag he slides across the counter, and practically sprints out the store, and to Steve, who was very inconspicuously staring through the window, shoving it against his chest.

“There. Happy?”

Steve looks down at the bag, then back up at her. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Robin glares. “You owe me. Big time.”

Steve grins, clutching the bag to his chest like it’s made of gold. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Lunch? I want, like... five lunches.”

Steve just laughs, and Robin rolls her eyes, shoving past him and walking down the street. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Steve jogs after her, still grinning, the bag tucked safely under his arm.

“This is the weirdest fucking day of my life.” Robin mumbles as Steve catches up to her.

“You’re telling me that was weirder than us being kidnapped and tortured by Russians? Than going to a different dimension?” He says quietly, so that anyone walking past that might overhear, doesn’t, and doesn't think he’s on crack or something.

Robin huffs a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, dingus.” She shoves her hands into the pockets of her work trousers. “Weirder than that.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Fair enough.”

Chapter Text

Robin has been acting weird all morning.

They’d opened up, set up ready for the day, organised the new stock in the back ready to be put on the shelves, chatted about random stuff, like what the most versatile fruit is, or what animal in the world could jump the highest, you know, the usual.

But every now and then, when they would shut up for a bit to do some mundane task, Robin would side eye him, and smirk, or even giggle to herself.

It has been two days since… well, since Steve had poked a foot out the closet. Since Robin had had one of the most awkward interactions with a cashier in her life.

They didn’t have work yesterday, it was Keith and Rebecca in. Robin and Steve usually get rota’d together, ever since Rebecca had hit on Steve and he, as gently as possible, broke it to her that she wasn’t exactly his type, and she threatened to file a sexual harassment complaint, and since Robin got into a very heated argument with David about him organising the tapes in the Dewey Decimal system, Keith had done the kindness of usually putting Steve and Robin together.

He was just waiting for the moment Robin initiated the very awkward conversation by bringing it up.

It’s early in the morning, around 10 o’clock, when she does.

“So,” She began, sitting on the counter, legs swinging. It was quiet this time of morning, they’d only had around two people to come in to return things so far. She grins at him, leaning forward a little. Steve shoots her a little look of dread as he’s facing-up the action section. “Have you, uh…” She stifles a laugh.

“Come on, spit it out.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Have you…” She rakes a hand through her hair, looking away for a second, still grinning wildly. “Used that… magazine?” She asks as casually as possible.

Steve exhales through his nose, putting the Indiana Jones movies into chronological order.

“You really wanna ask about my personal life at work?” He asks dryly.

“You’ve told me a lot of worse things at work.” She shrugs.

Steve looks at her over his shoulder. “Yeah, but that’s, like, sex stuff.”

Robin quirks a brow at him. “This isn’t sex stuff?”

He looks back at the row of tapes, which he’s now done organising, really, but he pretends to be really interested in Conan the Barbarian, because the distraction is nice.

“I mean, yeah, I guess, but it’s different.”

“Hey, you don’t have to give me details, weirdo.” She teases, drumming her fingers on the counter. “I just wanna know the results.”

He groans. Then he’s weighing up whether he could ignore her or not. But he knows ignoring Robin isn’t exactly possible. She’ll just keep bringing it up, and annoying him all day, and, hey. Steve has no shame, right? Him and Robin had been through a lot worse, told each other about a lot worse.

He doesn’t really know why the words are sticking in his throat.

“Yeah, okay.” He sighs, turning to face her. “It was… It worked.” He says simply, feeling extremely exposed.

Robins brows shoot up. Then she nods slowly, but Steve can tell she’s trying not to laugh.

“Okay.” She says. Steve narrows his eyes at her.

He then just scoffs, and goes behind the counter, to find something else to busy himself with. Robin spins around, swinging her legs off the other side and jumping down, now behind the counter with him.

“So,” She leans back against the counter, crossing her arms. “You’re bi?”

Steve scrunches up his face and looks at her incredulously. “I’m what?”

“Bisexual, dingus.”

Something heavy aches behind Steve’s rib cage. It was the same sort of feeling he got when he was… finished, that night. It wasn’t disgust, not really. Shame, maybe. Confusion, definitely. He, Steve Harrington, was a queer. There was nothing wrong with that, not at all, It was just… how had he gone his whole life not knowing?

Maybe he was too busy being who he was supposed to be to notice. Too busy trying to be the perfect son, who played sports and got good enough grades and brought home girls. Being King Steve, who was cool and threw parties and shit on other people because they were different. King Steve who was perfect and an asshole and who all the girls wanted to go to prom with. Steve, who never really felt like he belonged, but he was at the top of the food chain, and everyone else seemed to accept that, so he thought he must be in the right place.

It made him rethink everything. Rethink how he used to feel a little weird about Tommy H, the feeling he chalked up to slight annoyance and loyal friendship. Rethink about how he felt when he broke Jonathan Byers camera and every bone in his body told him he had to get him a new one. When Jonathan Byers beat the shit out of him and then stole his girl. The feeling deep in his core he was so sure was hatred, but it felt warm and dangerous and slightly alluring.

Rethink about when Dustin Henderson had dragged him with the others to that boathouse on Lovers Lake and Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson had shoved him against the wall with a smashed bottle to his neck and a shine of fear in his eyes. The small feeling of protectiveness that settled inside of him that he hoped would go away after the upside down, after he was safe and everyone could go on with their normal lives. And it didn’t.

Steve got protective about a lot of people. All the kids. Robin. Nancy. Even Jonathan. He would probably take a bullet for any of them in the blink of an eye. Whether that said more about his bravery or what he thought of his self worth, though, he doesn’t know. But Eddie wasn’t any different. Right?

Eddie still wasn’t any different after he kissed him, right?

God damn it, Steve was a queer. That made it different. That meant something now. Because he’s into guys, and maybe he was into that, and something about that made dread creep up his spine.

“Yeah.” He forces out. “I guess.”

Robin could probably sense his discomfort, because she sighs, and then does the strangest thing. She takes a step forward, and opens her arms out, before slightly awkwardly wrapping them around Steve, one around the shoulders, one around the waist. Steve freezes for a second.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you, idiot.” She mumbles in annoyance.

After another beat, Steve then slowly moves his arms and hugs her back.

Robin wasn’t a hugger. She’d show her affection in other ways, but it was more like punching Steve in the arm or something. Steve wasn’t a hugger, either. He’d probably received a grand total of five hugs in his entire life, so.

Oh.

This was quite nice, actually.

Robin smelled like cheap perfume and strawberry shampoo and she was warm and real and there, and she was his best friend, and it made the awful feeling in his chest feel a little lighter to carry.

“Alright, that’s enough.” She announces, pulling back.

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles.

Robin sighs. “I know it kinda feels… sucky.” She fidgets awkwardly with her bracelet. “But it gets easier.”

Steve nods. “Yeah.” He says quietly.

Easier.

Robin gives him a little smile, before she leans back on the counter, folding her arms. They just stand there for a bit, in comfortable silence, letting the strange yet undeniable weight settle.

“Do you think you have a type?” She asks, and Steve looks at her with his brows furrowed.

“What?”

“Like a type, of guys.” She shrugs.

Steve blinks at her.

“I mean, you’ve only been gay for, like, two days so-” She then argues with herself, gesturing to nothing with her hands. Steve scoffs a laugh.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.” He says dryly.

Steves probably known a lot longer than he thinks. He’s definitely thought about what it would be like to kiss a guy before. Maybe it was because of how he grew up, so shielded from that sort of thing by his parents, his entire childhood being told it’s wrong, so it must be, right? It wasn’t a possibility for him. It never was.

That continued into highschool. The people he was friends with, the kind of person he was supposed to be, that everyone thought he was, the homophobic asshole who didn’t like anyone who was different. He was consumed by the notion that it was wrong, and it wasn’t him. He fit so nicely into a little box that he never tried to get out of.

It was only when people started really bullying Danny Fredricks in junior year that he actually felt terrible for the guy. He’d spoken to him before. He was a nice guy. He was just a nice guy. He wasn’t what everyone was saying about him. He realised that the whole community wasn’t what people said they were. They were just people.

Steve was still an asshole. He kept up with the act, yeah, because he was seemingly convinced he was above everyone else and he sure damn acted like it most of the time. Because he had to.

He had to be King Steve. He had to be normal and rude and straight to survive. He had to be straight because otherwise where would he be? He didn’t want to be like Danny Fredricks.

And then it was when the girl he liked who was also his best friend came out to him on the floor of a mall toilet that he realised there was absolutely nothing wrong with it at all. That it was normal. Not something you can choose.

It was a little bit after then that he thought about it some more. But it didn’t make sense for him to be gay, right? That wasn’t who he was. He sorta just chalked it up to being lonely and threw himself into his search for a girlfriend.

Maybe he’d known the whole time. Maybe he’d just spent so long convincing himself otherwise, that he’d hidden it so far down it took him all this time and a lesbian best friend and evil, disgusting creatures from a different dimension to find it. To figure it out.

Because if another dimension and an 11 year old girl with superpowers can exist, then Steve Harrington being into dudes isn’t the most far fetched thing.

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve only known, I guess.” She corrects.

Steve thinks for a moment, tracing his hand over the register.

“I don’t know.” He ponders. “I don’t really have a type in girls.”

Robin snorts. “That’s true.” She grins teasingly. “Anything that moves, huh?”

Steve whacks her on the arm, but that just makes her laugh.

Then, he sighs, staring out the window, watching the quiet street as he thinks.

“I don’t know. I guess… nice?”

“Wooow.” She nods slowly, brows raised. “Bars real low.”

Steve tuts in exasperation, shaking his head.

He thinks harder.

What is his type?

He tries to think of girls- or, people, he’s liked before.

“Nice,” He says again. “But confident. Knows what she- he, wants.” He stumbles, remembering he’s talking about guys now.

He tries to picture it. Him with a guy. What would he want in a guy?

“I think… I don’t know how to explain it. Like a little weird, y’know? I can’t do normal. Normal’s boring.”

Robin nods like she understands exactly what he’s saying. “Anything looks-wise?” She asks, probably just carrying on this conversation because it’s interesting for her and there’s nothing better to do.

Steve hums.

“I don’t know, not really.” Then he quickly adds. “Not blonde. Never blonde.”

“I thought you digged blonde chicks?” She asks curiously.

“They’re fun, but not really a long term investment.” He shrugs. Robin gives him an unimpressed look.

“I should really lecture you on how to talk about women.” She says dryly. Steve rolls his eyes.

“I’m not just talking about girls anymore, Rob.” He argues. Robin looks at him for a second before giving him a shrug that says fair-enough.

He goes back to thinking.

“Not really into muscles,” He thinks aloud.

Robin barks a laugh. “That guy in the magazine had plenty of muscles.”

Steve glares at her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I'd like that in practice.” He leans back against the counter, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s like, nice to look at, but I think I’d feel a little emasculated, y’know, if I dated someone and they were totally ripped and, like, a foot taller than me.”

Robin hums. “Right.” She tilts her head. “So, scrawny dudes?”

“Not scrawny.” Steve corrects, a look of utter seriousness on his face. “Just… normal.”

There’s a small pause.

“But also, sorta fierce.” He continues, looking at Robin with furrowed brows. “Like, I don’t know, they could totally stand up for themself if they needed to. And you’d probably not expect it.” He tries to explain.

Robin raises her eyebrow with a knowing look. “Like Nancy?”

Steve gives her a little annoyed look, but then looks away. “I guess, yeah.” He says. Then, before he can even really think about it (which happens quite a lot to him), the words escape his mouth. “And Jonathan.”

Robin's brows shoot up and her eyes widen, giving him a little shocked look. “Jonathan Byers?”

Steve waves an urgent hand, a look of irritation on his face. “I’m not into him, or anything, dude! That'd be weird.” He sighs. “I just mean that- I don’t know. I was an asshole, and he totally beat the shit outta me. And I kinda… respected that. Like, damn. Didn’t expect that from him, sorta thing. Y’know?” He desperately tries to explain himself, and Robins giving him a little grin.

“Okay, yeah.” She says, still grinning. “I get you.”

Steve gives her one, curt nod, before returning to studying the Back to The Future poster he’d stared at 100 times before.

Robin was right.

It does get easier.

He doesn’t exactly think she meant in the next five minutes, but, somehow, it has. Somehow, stood here talking with her trying to figure out his type in guys, it has gotten a little less heavy. A little more normal.

It was about 2:30pm when the bell above the door jingled, which wasn’t unusual, things had picked up around midday and even now they had a handful of people in the store. It was when Steve heard the rather heavy thud of boots against the linoleum, and the quiet clink of chain that he remembered it was friday.

Steve rakes a hand quickly through his hair, just in case it needed fixing, which it probably didn’t. It’s always perfect. Robin gives him a small, unreadable look, as she has also just seen who’s walked in.

“Ladies,” Eddie Munson greets with a lazy salute and an easy grin as he leans forward onto the counter.

Steve barely looks up from the stack of returns he’s now decided to alphabetise a second time.

“Hey, Eddie.” Robin smiles, seemingly having decided to ignore Steve for the time being.

“You been having an exhilarating day?” He tilts his head, still grinning.

Robin deadpans. “Just thrilling.”

Eddie gave a soft laugh, and something made Steve look up just to see him with that little shine in his eye he gets when he laughs.

“Well, no fear, my friends,” Eddie starts dramatically, gesturing to nothing. “For I am here to add a little excitement to your mundane American Dream lives.”

Steve groans. “Oh, how lucky are we?” He says dryly. He looks up to see Eddie grinning at him.

“Very lucky indeed, Stevie.” He teases, tilting his head, and his dark curls fall over his shoulder and it looks more brown haloed by the afternoon summer sun, and Steve realises he’s been looking for a second too long so he just scoffs, but theres a smile tugging at his mouth.

He feels Eddie’s eyes linger on him for a second after he looks back down at the tape in his hands, before he turns back to Robin.

Eddie’s still lounging against the counter, his rings tapping idly against the edge. “So, what’s the family business look like today? Sold out of Porky’s yet?”

Steves trying to look anywhere else but the ring on Eddie's middle finger. The silver dragon one Steve’d gotten him for his graduation. The one he hasn’t seen Eddie without since. The one Eddie wore like it meant something.

It didn’t mean anything.

“Porky’s?” Robin snorts. “Try Dirty Dancing. We’re down to one copy.”

“And it’s rented out,” Steve adds. “We have a list of, like, five moms waiting for it.”

Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Suburban moms and Patrick Swayze. Can’t say I’m surprised.” He pauses, leaning in conspiratorially. “You think they watch it for the dancing?”

Robin scoffs. “Hell no.”

Steve chuckles despite himself, shaking his head. “Hey, if I looked like Swayze, I’d be dancing in every room I walked into.”

Eddie looks at him then, quirking a brow. “What, looking like that-“ He gestures vaguely. “Isn’t good enough for you?” A teasing smirk plays at his lips.

Steve’s brows furrow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Eddie's smile falters for a split second, and there's a flicker of something unreadable behind his eyes, almost unnoticeable, so it’s a good job Steve was staring at them so intently. Then, he just looks at Robin like Steve was stupid or something.

Robin grins, and Eddie’s gaze flickers back to him, looking at him with an amused look. He hesitates for a second, before pushing back off the counter and folding his arms.

“I’m saying you’re… conventionally attractive, sweetheart.” He says plainly, looking Steve up and down.

Obviously he was. Steve knew it. He’d been told it a lot of times. Usually in more flattering ways.

But for some goddamn reason, he stills, feeling a little flush rise to his face. A stupid smile breaks on his face.

Eddie sees this and his face contorts, scrunching up in annoyance. He probably regrets boosting Steve's ego.

“That so?” Steve asks, and he’s quite pleased with how smooth it comes out. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, shut up.” Robin groans.

Steve laughs, and Eddie's expression dissolves back into amusement, and something Steve can’t quite name.

Eddie shrugs. “I’m just saying,” He leans his hip against the counter, brown eyes studying Steve. “Think you’ve got what it takes to dance into any room, Harrington.”

Steve looks at him with a raised brow. “Oh yeah?” He smirks. “Tryna see me dance?”

Robin groans again. “Oh, please god, no. My hearts too weak.” She makes an expression like she’s in physical pain at the thought.

“Hey, come on.” Steve glares at her. “I can totally dance.” Robin looks unconvinced, and Steve folds his arms. “I could so do that lift in dirty dancing.”

Eddie scoffs a laugh. “You could not.”

Steve quirks a brow at him, smirking. “Oh, I absolutely could.” Then, he lifts the short sleeve of his work polo above his shoulder and raises his arm, grinning as he flexes his bicep. “I’ve been working out.”

He is absolutely showing off. Now, by all means, Steve knows he’s not jacked. But, damn, swinging bats at demonic creatures gives you a little definition. He has a gym in his garage that his parents aren't exactly around to use so, yeah, he gets bored and works out sometimes.

He doesn’t quite know why he’s showing off. Maybe he’s trying to just annoy Eddie as much as Eddie annoys him. Or maybe it’s for the way Eddie looks at him for a moment before his face scrunches up in irritation. The quick moment where Eddie actually looks a little impressed. Or whatever that look was.

Steves grin widens as Eddie makes a noise of distaste, and Robin buries her face in her hands.

“Jesus, Steve.” She grumbles.

Steve lowers his arm, and Eddie’s now grinning at Robin, finding her disgust very amusing.

“You got a licence to carry those, Harrington?” He tilts his head, leaning in and grinning.

Steve puts his hands on his hips, smirking. He’s not entirely sure why he’s entertaining Eddie currently. Maybe it’s the discomfort on Robin's face that is seemingly amusing the both of them.

“You want a ticket to this gun show?” He says sarcastically, raising a brow as he grins.

“Both of you, please. Do me the favour of shutting up?” Robin spits. They both laugh.

Steve ignores how he feels lighter watching Eddie laugh. That stupid, half snort, lighthearted laugh. The way his eyes light up.

He always puts it down to the fact he sorta saved Eddie’s life. Ever since he dragged Eddie’s almost lifeless body out of the upside down, sure, he’s felt a little protective. That’s normal, right? Yeah, he likes to know that Eddie’s alright. He’s sorta like that with all the kids, too, especially Dustin. And Robin.

He just doesn’t really show it. For the most part, anyway.

The truth is, Steve Harrington cares a lot damn more than people think he does. More than he should.

He thinks that saving Eddie's life is why he cares about the guy so much. Why it makes everything seem a little better when Eddie laughs. Why he likes having the guy around, even if he only comes in the store to irritate him and Robin while they’re at work. Why he makes an effort to pay for Eddies shit all the time.

That excuse, however, runs out when it comes to the fact that Steve kissed him. It also doesn’t explain why Steve has been thinking about it quite a lot ever since the party last week.

Apparently, while Steve had been too busy listening to his inner turmoil, they had started talking about plans for the weekend. Robin was talking about how she’s going around Vicky’s place, and she’s really nervous and doesn’t know what to wear. And Eddie’s suggested ‘nothing’, which earnt a hard smack on the arm from across the counter.

“You’ve got Gareth's party tomorrow, right?” She asks, folding her arms.

Eddie nods. “I do indeed.”

“What did you get him?” She asks curiously. Eddie shrugs.

“Bottle of tequila and a 3.5.” He throws out casually. Steve gives him an incredulous look as Robins expression is bordering on horrified.

“He’s turning 18, Eddie.” She says, voice low with horror. Eddie blinks at them.

“So?” He looks between them like he has no idea how strange this is. “We’re gonna share it.” He tries to explain.

Steve huffs a laugh and Robin shakes her head.

“Hey, don’t act like you’ve never drunk before, Buckley. You’re not 21.” He argues, and Steve shrugs.

“It’s true.”

Eddie gestures towards Steve as if to say ‘see?’.

Robin just looks disappointed.

“So, what,” She sighs. “You’re gonna get drunk and high off your mind and make an idiot of yourself before passing out in his bathtub? What a wonderful evening.” She deadpans.

Eddie laughs.

“Not quite.” He tilts his head. “Gareth’s having Jeff crash and he can’t have more than one person over, apparently. Which I think is bullshit. So i’ll be making an idiot of myself on the streets of Hawkins as I walk home in the middle of the night.” He grins, his tone joking.

Steve narrows his eyes. “What?” He asks, forgetting to correct the level of concern he should have in his voice. He dials it down a tad. “Why can’t Matty give you a ride?”

Eddie scoffs a laugh. “What, on his bike? No thanks.”

“Who else is going?” Robin asks.

Eddie shrugs. “I dunno, random guys Gareth's friends with from middle school.” He fiddles with the end of his hair between his fingers. “They’re getting kicked out way before, though.”

“Dude, you’re gonna get killed.” Robin says dryly.

“I’ve done it plenty of times in the past.” Eddie brushes her off.

Yeah, but not when half the people in town still think you're a satanist murderer, Steve thinks.

Robin gives Steve a small side eye of concern. He doesn’t look at her, though.

“I’ll come get you.” Steve says, firm with conviction, before he’s even really thought about it.

Eddie looks at him in confusion, but there’s something weird in the way he looks at him then. Like he’s studying Steve. Steve doesn’t like it.

“What? Why?”

Steve shrugs, looking away.

“Not a big deal, man. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Than, what, pick me up at 1 in the morning?”

He’s looking at Steve like he’s sort of crazy. Maybe he is.

“Sure, man.” Steve insists as casually as possible. “I saved your ass, I'm not letting you get yourself hit by a car cus you’re too high to see the headlights.” He adds, muttering to himself as he turns to pick up the small stack of returned tapes that need rewinding.

He knows Eddie’s staring at him. Still fucking studying him like he’s trying to see right through him. Steve prays to god he doesn’t.

Steve also has discovered the tactic of just walking away from Eddie. If Eddie looks like he’s about to argue, Steve just makes a statement and then walks away, and Eddie usually just seems to accept that.

Which, as he heads into the back room to rewind these tapes, he realises means he’s just signed up to pick him up from a party at some ungodly time in the morning tomorrow. Great.

Chapter Text

1:42am.

The alarm Steve had set went off about two minutes ago. He looks like shit. Feels like it, too. It’s a Saturday night, or Sunday morning, depending on how you look at things. He’s tired from a day of chauffeuring Dustin around and paying for his ice-cream, or what Henderson likes to call ‘hanging out’. He’d tried to sleep a little early, but ended up on the phone with Robin at around 11pm as she told him about her day at Vicky’s.

Now, here he was, pulling a shirt on and trying to tame his hair.

He tries to blink away exhaustion as he heads downstairs and grabs his keys, wondering to himself why he agreed, or rather, insisted on doing this.

Then he thinks about Eddie walking home alone, gone to the world from alcohol and weed, and his stomach knots a little.

That’s why.

He climbs into his car, turning the key, as he tries to remember the way to Gareths house from that one time he dropped Eddie off for band practice.

As he drives, the radio rattling off some rock music quietly, he thinks about how insanely talented Eddie is, it’s stupid. He’s heard him play once or twice, and, shit, the guy was actually really good. Like, if they seriously tried, Corroded Coffin could be playing sold out gigs with little metalhead groupies.

He also thinks about the dream he was having before his alarm went off, the one where he was back at school and Robin was there and Hawkins High had a pool with a waterslide and Mike Wheeler was his teacher, and then there was a really big horse and it fell in the pool. Yeah, his dreams where usually fucking weird.

He turned the corner and the little house a few doors down had multi-coloured lights on and he could hear the weird metal music from here. Steve wonders what an emo party would be like.

He pulls up outside and sighs. He’s gonna have to knock. God damn it.

He knows Eddie’s friends don’t like him. Which is fair enough. Steve just doesn’t particularly want to deal with them while they’re heavily intoxicated.

He climbs out the car, walking up to the door, barely avoiding a pile of vomit on the pavement that he guesses is from someone whose already left.

He reaches the door, and hesitates one second before knocking. The music and laughter inside is loud.

He knocks. Nothing. He rings the bell.

A few moments later, the door flies open, and a wild haired, red eyed Gareth stands there. The guys eyes widen, mouth ajar as he stares at Steve Harrington on his doorstep. He probably thinks this is some weird hallucination. Then, bursts out laughing. Steve gives him a dry look.

Gareth grips the doorway as he doubles over in laughter.

“Eddie!” He shouts between laughter. “Daddy’s here!” He sing-songs.

Steve groans.

Then, Eddie Munson, hair impossibly wilder than usual, adorning his usual leather jacket which seems impossible in this summer heat, stumbles out from the living room. He looks a little alarmed, before he glances at Steve, and his face dissolves into what Steve can only describe as pure rage as he turns to Gareth.

Gareth, still laughing, is then barrelled into violently, shoved against the wall and falling to the floor. Gareth doesn’t seem hurt, though. He just laughs even harder, rolling around on the floor now.

“Jackass,” Eddie hisses, kicking him lightly in the ribs. Steve sees Jeff in the doorway, staring at Steve like he’s not sure if he’s real.

Eddie brushes a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ear as he turns to face Steve. He smiles at him, wide and boyish. His eyes are a little red, and there's chipped black nail polish on his nails.

“Hey, Stevie.” He says almost sweetly.

Steve just sighs. “Alright, buddy. Let’s go.”

Eddie frowns. He then turns and bends, tugging Gareth to his feet. The guy looks a little confused, but he’s still grinning wildly.

“Happy birthday, Gargar.” Eddie swiftly kisses him on the cheek, before slapping him on the shoulders, and turning to give Jeff a salute. Jeff blinks at him, before giving a curt wave.

He then spins around, and tilts his head at Steve.

“So? What are you waiting for?” He gestures impatiently. Steve tuts as he turns around.

Eddie follows him, walking out the door and falling into step next to him. He smells like vodka and weed. It makes Steve scrunch his nose up in disgust.

“Later, Munson!” Gareth calls from the doorway. “Don’t have too much fun!” Eddie flips him off without even turning to look at him. They hear Gareth laugh again before the door clicks shut.

“So,” Steve starts, opening the driver's side door and climbing in. “Good night?”

Eddie falls into the passenger seat, rewinding the seat like he belonged there. “Hell yeah.” He kicks his feet up on the dash, and Steve’s too tired to tell him otherwise.

“Good,” Steve nods, pulling away.

After a beat of silence, and Steve feeling Eddie staring at him, Eddie breaks the silence that Steve was sort of enjoying.

“Thanks for picking me up, by the way.” He says quietly, his tone earnest and real, which it so rarely is. “You didn’t have too.”

Steve dares to take a glance at Eddie. His soft black hair with more volume than usual, falling around his face in curls. His big brown eyes tired with the time of night and something else, but twinkling in the low light.

Steve swallows.

“Sure, man. It’s fine.” He says as casually as possible.

“I could’ve walked.” Eddie insists.

“Didn’t want you getting jumped on the way home. Or falling off a cliff.” Steve shrugs.

Eddies quiet for a moment, which Steve doesn’t like. Eddie’s never quiet. He doesn’t like that he can see Eddie looking at him in his peripherals.

“You sure you didn’t wanna get me intoxicated to take advantage of me?” Eddie jokes softly, grin tugging at his lips.

Steve can’t help the little exhale of amusement. “In your dreams.”

Eddie shrugs. “Not like you haven’t done it before.” He mutters, but his tone is still light, a small smile on his mouth.

Steve’s eyes widen, and he looks alarmed. The kiss. That wasn’t- He wasn’t taking advantage- they were both drunk, Steve was drunker- It was-

“I didn’t-” He starts. “You… Eddie, I-”

Eddie laughs, reaching out his hand and brushing Steves arm.

“Relax,” He grins, retracting his hand. “I was joking.”

But Steve doesn’t relax. His heart is hammering in his chest like it’s trying to escape, and his face feels hot. He takes a deep breath as he readjusts his grip on the wheel.

“I didn’t even know you remembered.” He says quietly, no longer looking at Steve, but staring at his hands, spinning the dragon ring around his middle finger.

Steve swallows, hoping it’ll ease the knot in his stomach.

“Yeah.” Is all he can say. What an idiot.

He’s driving Eddie Munson home because he was too worried about him to let him walk home alone and intoxicated at this time, referencing the time they were drunk and kissed last week for the first time.

Every single terrifying thought he’d had in the past week since the kiss, or, rather, since he remembered kissing him, was slowly creeping up on him. The awful, scary thoughts that he wouldn’t half mind doing it again. The thoughts he’d really had to try hard to ignore since he’d sort of accepted his… sexuality. What a week. A real rollercoaster.

After about a minute of the awful, crushing silence, Eddie snorts.

“Oh my god, you won’t believe what Matty did.” He half laughs, grinning.

Steve doesn’t look at him, too distracted by the tension in the car and how Steve thinks he could get used to Eddie Munsons presence, despite the smell of alcohol and weed.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“He- He was tryna, I dunno, do a handstand on the armchair, or some shit.” He starts laughing, real and raw, before he’s even fully got the story out. Steve, despite himself, finds himself smiling. Not at the story. “And he flips the armchair! Fully crashes to the floor! We fully thought he broke his neck or something, before he started laughing.” Eddie continues chuckling to himself, grinning wildly as he shakes his head at the thought.

“You guys are tragic.” Steve shakes his head, smiling.

“Damn right.” Eddie nods, something proud in his tone.

The night is quiet, the hum of Steve's car the only sound as they drive down the winding roads back toward the trailer park. The moon hangs low, casting silver streaks across the hood of the car, and Eddie slumps against the window, eyes half-lidded and a lazy grin stretched across his face. Steve glances at him every few moments, just to make sure he’s not gonna hurl or pass out or something, but Eddie seems fine, more than fine, actually. He looks almost... peaceful.

“Do you think,” Eddie begins suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence, “that there’s, like... I dunno, other versions of us out there somewhere? Like... I dunno, a version where you’re the metalhead freak and I’m the jock with the nice car?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“You know,” Eddie gestures vaguely with one hand, the other still splayed against the window. “Like... alternate universes, man. Parallel dimensions. Where things are just... different.”

Steve snorts. “I think you’re still drunk.”

Eddie waves him off. “Nah, I’m serious! Like, what if there’s a universe where I’m, like... prom king or some shit, and you’re... I dunno, in Hellfire with me?” He turns to look at Steve, eyes wide and sparkling with mischief. “I mean, if demegorgans can exist, then who's to say there isn’t a chick magnet Eddie Munson out there?”

Steve shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Me? In Hellfire? I’d last five minutes before I lost my mind.”

Eddie grins. “Yeah, you’re probably right. You don’t have the patience for D&D, Harrington. You can barely sit through a movie without squirming.”

“I do not squirm.”

“You squirmed like crazy during Back to the Future,” Eddie counters, sitting up a little straighter. “I was two seconds away from telling you to go run a lap.”

“Hey,” Steve argues. “You’re the one who can’t sit still for longer than three seconds.”

“Not true!” Eddie retorts. Steve rolls his eyes at him. Then, Eddie freezes, like stops moving completely. “One, Two, Three.” He counts. He then relaxes again, grinning. “That was three seconds.”

“God, you’re stupid.” He scoffs, but he can’t help the amused smile on his face.

Eddie hums, looking back out the window. “You love it.”

That was the problem.

They pull up to the trailer park, the headlights sweeping across the gravel, and Steve kills the engine. Eddie doesn’t move right away. He just sits there, blinking up at the stars through the windshield, like he’s waiting for something.

“You alright?” Steve asks after a moment.

Eddie blinks, looks over at him, and for a second, Steve swears he sees something shift in those dark eyes. But then Eddie grins, wide and reckless.

“Course I am. Thanks for the lift, Harrington.”

Steve nods, his throat a little tight. “Anytime.”

Eddie laughs, soft and low, and then he’s climbing out of the car, stretching his arms above his head like he’s shaking off the weight of the night. He leans down to the open window, hair falling forward in messy waves.

“Night, Harrington.”

“Night, Munson.”

Eddie grins one last time before he turns and saunters off toward his trailer, hands stuffed in his pockets, whistling some tune Steve can’t quite place.

Steve watches him go, watches until Eddie disappears behind the door, and he sits there for a moment longer, fingers still wrapped around the steering wheel.

Then, he lets his head fall forward onto the wheel.

Oh god fucking damn it.

He was totally, royally screwed.

—-

Robin’s house was small and smelled like stale coffee and something vaguely floral. Her room was also relatively small, probably looked smaller because of the semi-organised mess. Random shit was strewn about the floor, knick knacks lined the shelves and there was an odd amalgamation of items on her bedside table. A weird, vintage looking lamp, a book that was sort of dusty, a cup of coffee Steve dreads to think how old it is, a little jewellery holder with buttons and even a key in there, and there's a little pill on the side which Robin insists is some sort of antibiotic but you’d have to take it and find out.

Her bed was comfortable, a big, crunchy duvet that was really too big for her bed, and there’s one or two stuffed animals lovingly placed in the corner.

Steve is currently laying face down on that bed that smells almost comfortingly like Robin. He’d probably be almost drifting off because of his late night adventure last night, if his body wasn’t so awake with the adrenaline of a hundred unwanted thoughts per minute.

There’s a small thunk on the bedside table, and Steve turns his head enough to see the bottle of soda that's been placed there.

“You come over just to sleep or are we gonna do something?” Robin, who was now cracking off the lid of her soda, stood staring at him.

Steve momentarily buries his head back in the pillow, before pushing himself up to sit.

“What do you want to do?” He crosses his legs beneath him, raking a hand through his hair.

She throws the little metal bottle opener at him, before turning to flick through records she has in a basket on her dresser.

“I don’t know,” She starts, inspecting a Bowie record. “We could paint each others nails, we could have a makeover…” She lists off casually. Steve scoffs a laugh. “We could… talk about boys?” She glances at him, grinning.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, alright.” He says dryly, and Robin laughs to herself, blowing dust off a Dolly Parton record.

“So,” She starts, slipping the record onto the record player. “You gonna tell me why you’re being all weird?”

Steve narrows his eyes at her, even though she’s not looking. “I’m not acting weird.” He says defensively.

Robin raises a brow at him. “Steve, you totally are. Weirder than usual.”

He groans a little, reaching for his soda and popping the lid off. “Is it not enough for you that i’m totally having a crisis?”

Robin laughs, and he takes a long sip. Jolene is now playing quietly, just a nice background music. Robin grabs her soda off the dresser, and goes and shoves a pile of clothes off her desk chair, before dragging it to sit across from Steve, bringing her knees up to her chest and pretty much curling into a ball in the chair.

“I mean, how is your crisis going?” She asks, smirking. Steve frowns at her.

“Not good.” He grumbles, picking at the label on his soda bottle.

They sit there for a moment, Robin watching him like she’s trying to figure him out, and Steve seems very interested in the nutritional facts on this Cola.

“You, uh…” She starts, and Steve looks up at her, trying to decipher what she’s about to say. “You wanna talk about Eddie?” She asks sorta softly.

His brows raise, eyes widening, heart instinctively picking up. He then furrows his brows, almost scowling at her.

“No? Why? What’s going on with Eddie?” He tilts his head, feigning disinterest.

Robin gives him an incredulous look, scoffing a laugh.

“You tell me, man.” She folds her arms around her knees.

Steve narrows his eyes at her. Then, he sighs, and just flops sideways back down onto her bed, grabbing her pillow and covering his face with it, half hoping he could smother himself to death.

He hears Robin laugh.

“Come on, Steve.” She says.

Steve remains under the pillow for a few seconds, before he throws it off. Robin is looking at him, expression half amusement and half interest.

“I don’t know, Robin!” He sits up, hugging the pillow to his chest. “I don’t know what’s going on! It’s like… my brain is spiralling out of control and I can’t catch up.”

He looks at her in despair, and, annoyingly, she just laughs.

“I know the feeling.” She smirks.

He shakes his head. His chest feels like it’s imploding inward.

He barely slept last night. He couldn’t get back to sleep after dropping Eddie home. Because the slow, agonising realisation was creeping over him.

“I…” Steve starts. He was somewhat scared that if he said it out loud it might be true. That maybe if he kept it to himself he could deny it until it went away. “I think I might be into Eddie.” He finishes quietly, staring at where he’s fidgeting with the corner of the pillow case.

He looks up to see Robin staring at him, not with the surprised expression he expected, but one of slight amusement.

“Yeah, no shit, dingus.” She snorts. Steve blinks at her, a little confused. She raises a brow at him. “Really? I mean… nice, confident, a little weird, fierce… brown eyes, dark curly hair…” She lists off, and Steve glares at her in annoyance.

“Shut up.” He spits. Robin laughs again.

“What? He’s pretty much exactly what you said your type was.” She tucks hair behind her ear, grinning. “And, you totally had, like, a sexual awakening after kissing him.”

Steve opens his mouth to argue. Then closes it again. He feels heat rising to his face, but he puts it down to annoyance. “I did not!” He argues eventually.

Robin takes a sip of her soda, still smiling. “Sure.” She says plainly. Steve just gives her the most miserable expression he can muster.

“So,” she starts again. “What are you gonna do about it?”

He blinks at her. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. He was too busy trying to keep away the deep ache of having his first real crush on a guy, that he hadn’t really thought about what he could do about it.

“I don’t know.” He frowns, confused.

“Well, you’re pretty lucky.” Robin stretches her legs out, propping them up on the edge of her bed. “You’re actually crushing on a gay dude. You don’t have to experience the Tammy Thompson effect.” She gestures out, almost spilling her soda.

Steve scoffs a laugh. “Yeah, but, that just makes it worse if he’s not into me. Because it won’t be cus he doesn’t like dudes, it’ll be because he doesn’t like me.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Come on, man. I’m sure you could charm him. If you haven’t already.” She raises a brow, and Steve groans.

He flops back, a little more carefully this time, setting his soda on the bedside table as he falls backwards.

He stares at the swirl pattern in Robin's ceiling.

“What do I do, Rob?” He asks sincerely, a little quietly as ‘9 to 5’ plays softly.

Robin sighs, and it's pitying, and Steve knows she’s giving him that sad look again.

“What you do when you like a girl.” She says simply. “It’s not much different, really.” She nudges him with her foot and he knows that’s her trying to be comforting.

“So, what,” He throws his arms up, gesturing to nothing. “I just… flirt with him, ask him out?” He scoffs.

Robin shrugs. “Yeah, flirt a bit. Test the waters.”

He puts his hands in his hair. This was so different from liking a girl. He knew how most girls worked. Knew what to do, how to talk to them. He didn’t know how to flirt with a guy. Especially not with Eddie Munson.

“Hey,” She says, like she’s reading his mind. “Don’t stress about it. You’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She smiles at him, and Steve nods, hoping that she’s right.

—-

Later, they were in the kitchen, a pizza in the oven, making the kitchen smell like cheese and pepperoni. Robin sat on the counter, swinging her legs, as Steve crouched down to peer through the glass door of the oven.

“So,” Robin starts. It had been quiet for about five minutes, so Steve figured eventually she’d fill the silence with some nonsense. And, seemingly, her favourite topic of conversation was Steve’s tragic crisis of a love life. “What do you like about Eddie?” She tilts her head.

He straightens up, glaring at her. “I’m not gonna get all sappy, Buckley.”

“Why not?” She grins, tilting her head. “You do about girls.”

“Not true.” He scrunches his nose up.

“Oh you do.” Robin argues. “She’s got hair that glows in the sun and eyes like sapphires and smells like roses and fresh rain,” She mocks, bringing a hand to her heart and holding the other one out like she was Shakespear.

“I do not do that.” Steve folds his arms.

“Whatever you say, Romeo.” She leans forward a little, smirking.

Steve just scowls and shakes his head.

What did he like about Eddie? He liked that Eddie was so himself, unashamedly, even right up until the end, or what was almost his end. That he was different, and weird, and didn’t let anyone tell him who he should or shouldn’t be. He was brave in that way. It was almost admirable that he just… knew who he was. He liked that Eddie was really nice behind all that sarcasm and sharp humour, that he was actually a really thoughtful guy. He liked that Eddie was funny, more so than Steve would ever admit. He liked that Eddie’s hair looked black most of the time, except when it was really sunny, and his hair turned a warm brown, and it made him look lighter and softer. He liked his big brown eyes that literally lit up when he was happy, and that real, raw, funny laugh he does when he’s genuinely amused by something. He liked Eddie's rings that decorated his already nice hands, and he liked seeing the tattoos on his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. And he liked that Eddie’s presence made everything feel a little warmer, a little lighter.

God damn it. How the hell had Steve Harrington gotten a crush on Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson? They were almost polar opposites. Well, they had more in common than they think, really, but still. How did this happen? When did this happen? Was it after Steve dragged his sorry ass out the upside down and saved his life? Or, an even scarier thought; Was it before? Was it when they split up in the upside down and Eddie had been actually nice and said he thought Steve was a good guy and looked at him in that weird, unreadable way?

“Earth to Steve?” Robin sing-songs, waving a hand at him.

He narrows his eyes at her.

“What?”

“Pizza’s ready.” She grins.

Chapter Text

Eddie’s lying flat on his back on his lumpy mattress, arms spread out like he’s making a snow angel in the dingy fabric, staring up at the water-stained ceiling of his room. A joint dangles between his lips, unlit, just sort of... there, because he’s too lazy to reach for his lighter. His brain is running like a goddamn hamster on a wheel, and there’s one person occupying 99% of that brain space right now.

Steve.

Steve Harrington.

Eddie groans, tossing an arm over his eyes. This is getting pathetic. He’s gotta get a grip. He’s had crushes before, obviously, but this one is starting to feel less like a crush and more like a goddamn curse. A curse with perfect hair and a stupid, stupid smile.

He shifts a bit, the mattress springs creaking under him. Steve freaking Harrington. King Steve, golden boy of Hawkins High, former prom king, and occasional douchebag. Or... used to be a douchebag. Steve’s different now. Softer, maybe. Gentler.

Eddie thinks about the party a couple of days ago. How Steve showed up to pick him up at two in the goddamn morning. Eddie had been a total mess, barely upright, slurring his words and giggling at nothing, and there was Steve. Arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe of Gareths house, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed and drove straight there.

He didn’t remember the drive home too clearly, just that Steve didn’t complain once. Not about the smell of beer and weed clinging to Eddie’s clothes or the way Eddieput his feet up on the dash. Steve just... tolerated him. Smiled at him, even.

And that’s the part that’s really messing with Eddie’s head.

Steve Harrington is... nice to him. Really nice. Not just the polite kind of nice that you do because you feel bad for someone. Like, genuinely nice. He picks him up from parties. He drives him around. He pays for his stupid movie tickets.

He’s gotta be honest with himself: Eddie’s not used to people treating him like that. Not even his friends, not in the same way. The guys in Hellfire are loyal, sure, but there’s a distance there. A line between them and him that they’re not brave enough to cross. Not since everything, anyway. The guys know something happened to Eddie. Obviously, they knew about Chrissy dying and him being accused of murder. Then, Eddie was in hospital for a week. They didn’t talk about it. But something had changed, and there was a distance between them that grew each day.

He feels the joint slipping from his lips and catches it, twirling it between his fingers. His stomach flips, that annoying little tug that makes him want to hurl and grin at the same time. It’s dumb. It’s so, so dumb.

Because Steve is straight. Like, textbook definition of it. The guy literally flirts with anything in a skirt. Hell, he flirted with that waitress right in front of him, got her number and everything. And yeah, maybe it’s a little pathetic that Eddie remembers the way Steve smiled at her, all charm and confidence. The way she scribbled her number on a napkin and giggled, like Steve was the best thing she’d ever seen.

It shouldn’t bother him. It does, though. Way more than it should.

Eddie sighs, bringing the joint back to his lips. He fumbles for his lighter on the nightstand, flicks it on, and takes a long drag, closing his eyes as the smoke curls down his throat. He’s gotta get over this. Gotta shut this shit down before it drives him insane.

Steve is just being nice because that’s who he is now. Steve Harrington, the reformed good guy. He’s friends with Henderson, for Christ's sake. He’s practically the babysitter for the whole bunch of them. He’s just looking out for Eddie the way he looks out for all the kids.

But still…

Eddie can’t stop replaying it. The way Steve’s eyes lingered on him when he climbed out of the car. The way he watched to make sure Eddie got inside safe before driving off.

Eddie takes another drag and breathes out slow, smoke curling above him. His mind drifts back to that drive, to the way Steve laughed at his rambling, to the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

Maybe Eddie’s just not used to someone being that good to him. Or maybe he’s in way over his head.

Either way, he’s so screwed.

He had nothing to do tomorrow. Well, it was Tuesday. He only had what he always did. Going into town to go and harass his two favourite Family Video employees.

He hates himself for the little restless excitement that settles inside of him.

Honestly, he should probably still be looking for a job. But apparently, this crush was so debilitating that every waking second he’s not actively hanging out with other people, he’s thinking about Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington, laying in his bed, kicking his feet and making up fake scenarios like he was a teenage girl.

——

The bell above the door of Family Video gives a half-hearted jingle as Eddie shoves it open, a gust of hot Hawkins summer air trailing in behind him. The air conditioning hits him like a godsend, and he closes his eyes for just a second to savor it before he swaggers in, slapping his palms against the counter dramatically.

“Alright, Harrington!” he declares, loud enough to make a couple of browsing customers glance over. “I’m here to harass you. Prepare yourself.”

Steve doesn’t even flinch, just looks up from the stack of VHS tapes he’s reorganizing behind the counter and rolls his eyes. “Didn’t you do that, like, two days ago?”

Eddie shrugs, grinning like he’s just been handed his favourite kind of trouble. “What can I say? It’s just so damn fun watching you try not to cry every time I walk in.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head as he goes back to stacking the tapes. “I don’t cry, Munson. Unlike you when you tried to pick up that amp last week.”

“Hey!” Eddie points a finger at him, mock-offended. “That thing was heavier than it looked, okay? I’m a delicate flower.”

“Yeah, sure. A delicate flower with noodle arms.”

“Is that a compliment? I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Steve laughs, really laughs, the kind of laugh that crinkles the corners of his eyes, and Eddie has to blink a couple of times because… since when does Steve laugh like that? Since when does he grin all easy and light, looking at Eddie like he’s actually funny?

It’s a little disorienting. A little terrifying. Eddie’s not sure what the hell is going on, but his heart’s already picking up speed, and there’s that stupid fluttery feeling in his stomach that he really should get checked out or something. Probably indigestion.

From the other side of the counter, Robin leans against the returns rack of VHS tapes, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. She’s giving Steve this look, one Eddie can’t quite decipher, but it’s definitely amused. Steve catches her staring and promptly tosses an empty VHS case at her, which she dodges with a snort.

Eddie’s leaning against the counter at Family Video, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he watches Steve sort through a pile of tapes with all the enthusiasm of a man facing the gallows. It’s slow, painfully slow, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s been here long enough that Robin’s starting to give him weird looks from the back corner, where she’s attempting to put up a new poster on the wall behind the counter. But hey, he’s got nowhere else to be, and getting under Steve Harrington’s skin is pretty much the best use of his time.

Steve straightens up, hands braced against the counter as he gives Eddie a long, unimpressed look. “You really got nothing better to do than this?”

Eddie grins, rocking back on his heels. “Nah, man. This is the best use of my time.”

He expects Steve to scoff, to roll his eyes and toss some snarky comment back at him. That’s how it goes. It’s their routine. But instead, Steve just grins, easy and unbothered. “I’m flattered, Munson.”

Eddie blinks. His grin wavers, just slightly.

Eddie narrows his eyes, trying to read him, but Steve just holds his gaze, smug and comfortable. Eddie's skin prickles with confusion. He clears his throat and forces his voice to stay steady. “Right. Well, after I’m done loitering here, I might go meet up with Henderson and the others. Think they said something about the arcade or whatever.”

Steve’s head tilts, his expression sparking with interest. “Yeah? You know if they’ll still be there after five?”

Eddie pauses, narrowing his eyes even further. “Why? You wanna come?” Steve chuckles, shrugging one shoulder. “Didn’t think arcades were your scene, Harrington.”

Steve just leans in a little, that damn grin still playing on his lips. “Maybe you could teach me a thing or two.”

And Eddie’s brain does this little... glitch. Like someone pulled the plug for half a second and now all the lights are flickering. He stares at Steve, trying to decipher the tone, the look, the casual confidence.

But Steve’s just standing there, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself, and Eddie’s mouth decides to act without consulting his brain. “I don’t know, man. You failed miserably at Frogger last time. Don’t know if I’m up for witnessing that again. Might break my heart.”

Steve laughs, a real, genuine laugh, and it sends a weird flutter through Eddie’s stomach. “Maybe I’ll have better luck this time.” He winks, for fuck’s sake, and then picks up a small box of tapes, turning on his heel to shove it at Robin. She takes the box, and Eddie watches as Robin gives Steve a long, amused look before glancing back at him.

Robin raises an eyebrow, lips twitching with barely concealed delight. Like she’s in on a joke Eddie’s not privy to.

Eddie’s arms cross, gaze flicking back to Steve, who’s not even bothering to hide the smile on his face as he disappears into the back. Eddie’s stomach twists. He’s not sure what just happened, but he knows one thing for certain: he’s not in on the joke.

And he’s not finding it very funny.
Eddie decides to distract himself by sauntering over to the horror section, skimming the shelves like he doesn't pretty much know the stock off by heart by now. His fingers trace over a copy of ‘The Thing’ as his brains trying to catch up with whatever the hells going on, and why it’s making Eddie’s chest feel all warm and achy.

“Are you ever actually gonna buy anything, or do you just stare at these longingly?” Robin appears behind him after a minute, making Eddie jump a little. She places the box at her feet, picking out two copies of Poltergeist to put back on the shelf.

“Staring longingly’s kinda my thing, Buckley.” He grins. Robin raises her brows in amusement.

“I’ve noticed.” She says simply. Eddie tilts his head, smile faltering. He feels a little pit in his stomach, as he has a terrible feeling he knows what she’s hinting at.

“Shut up.” Is all he decides on saying, and Robin laughs as he picks up and inspects a copy of Little Shop of Horrors.

He picks it up, before leaning back to look at Steve who's still behind the counter. He waves the tape at him.

“Hey, Harrington. You feeling like doing some charity and letting a guy take this?” He calls, and Steve just looks at him with a dry look. “I won’t break it, promise.”

He hears Robin mutter, “you could’ve asked me. I’m stood right here.”. He ignores her.

Steve looks between the tape and Eddie, and Eddie prepares himself for the dry, sarcastic response, probably ridiculing Eddie and telling him to put it back.

“Sure,” He shrugs, a little smirk playing at his lips. “Just make sure you bring it back by next week.”

Eddie raises his brows in surprise, and quickly makes his way across the room to the counter in a weird half-run that makes a few customers look at him weird.

“Really?” He looks at Steve incredulously, clutching the tape like a kid on Christmas.

Steve huffs a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “Yeah. I’m feeling generous.”

Eddie leans in, hands on the counter to support his weight. “Wow.” He breaths, studying Steve. “Who are you and what have you done with my Steve?”

He must admit, his heart flips a little nervously at his very purposeful choice in wording.

He catches a flash of something unreadable in Steve's eye, before he scoffs at Eddie and gives him a dirty, exasperated look before looking away.

“There he is.” Eddie teases, grinning. He watches Steve smile to himself, like he can’t stop himself, or maybe he’s not trying to, and Eddie’s stomach does that stupid fluttery thing again.

“What even is this movie anyway?” He asks dryly, snatching the movie from Eddie’s hand and examining it, raising a brow.

Eddie shrugs. “Cute guy and evil plant.” Steve gives a surprised laugh.

“Story of your life,” Steve turns the tape over to read the little blurb on the back. Eddie raises a brow.

“Is the evil plant weed?” Eddie grins, tilting his head in amusement, currently deciding to ignore the way his stomachs knotting because he’s pretty sure Steve Harrington referred to him as a cute guy

Steve just gives him an entertained smirk, before holding up the tape and pointing to it exaggeratedly. “What makes this guy ‘cute’ anyway? He looks like a nerd.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t get it.” Eddie tries to disguise the small, underlying tone of disappointment when he says that, but Steve gives him a weird look, like there’s some joke he’s not in on.

Eddie snatches the tape back. “Glasses, man.” He says simply, plastering a grin on his face. Steve raises a curious brow at him, before just shaking his head and turning back to whatever he’s doing behind the counter.

Then Robin walks behind the counter, box now empty.

“Do you watch anything other than horror movies?” She asks dryly.

“Of course I do, Buckley.” He slips the tape into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Back to the Future was pretty good.”

“Thought you said it was boring?” Steve asks, raising a brow. Eddie blinks at him. Did he say that?

“I rewatched it.” He folds his arms. “It was a lot better without you and Henderson yapping the whole time.”

Steve looks unconvinced, but just laughs. Eddie narrows his eyes at him.

“And the Breakfast Club is good.” He turns back to Robin. Robin's eyes light up.

“I love The Breakfast Club!” She says excitedly. “It’s like, the best movie ever!”

“You have a new favourite movie every two weeks.” Steve says dryly, scribbling something down on a clipboard behind the counter.

“Alright, dingus,” She glares at him. “Your favourite movie is Footloose.”

Eddie laughs, and Steve looks at her, alarmed. “It is not!” He argues. “I mean, it’s a good movie, but it’s not my favourite.”

“What is it, then?” Eddie asks, still amused.

Steve narrows his eyes at him. “Blade Runner.”

Eddie raises his brows. “Sci-fi fan, huh?” He grins. “Thought that’d be too nerdy for you.”

“It’s not nerdy.” Steve scoffs, putting his hands on his hips. “It’s badass.”

Eddie laughs, and Robin snorts, which makes Steve shoot her a glare.

Robin looks past Eddie, and he looks over his shoulder to see a customer approaching with two tapes in their hands. Eddie spins back around, slapping the counter.

“Alright, i’ll leave you two in peace.” He grins.

“Thank god for that.” Steve sighs, but there's a smirk pulling at his lips. Eddie steps back, straightening up his jacket.

“See ya around, losers.” He starts walking backwards, before pointing a finger at Steve, tilting his head. “Maybe see you later.” He grins, and Steve gives him this strange, fond smile.

Eddie spins around, pulling open the door and escaping into the street, trying to push down the lingering warmth in his chest.

Steve was being weird. Friendlier. Definitely just banter. But it was getting to his head.

—-

Eddie shows up to the arcade like he’s got a caffeine IV hooked straight into his veins. He’s practically vibrating, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels outside the entrance, waiting for the others to catch up. Max is the first to saunter up, her Walkman blaring something loud enough to make her head bob, followed by Lucas and Mike, who are mid-argument about the best boss battle in Legend of Zelda.

“No way, man! The dragon’s way harder!” Mike is insisting, practically tripping over his own feet as he gestures wildly.

“Only if you’re bad at aiming!” Lucas fires back, dodging Mike’s half-hearted shove.

Eddie barely registers their presence, still buzzing with enough nervous energy that Max raises an eyebrow as she slides her headphones off her ears. “You good, weirdo? You look like you just drank a gallon of coffee.”

“Me?” Eddie says, a little too quickly. “I’m fantastic. Never been better.”

Max’s eyes narrow. “Uh-huh.”
Dustin jogs up last, cheeks flushed and grinning like he’s already won a prize. “Alright, what are we playing first? I’m feeling like today’s the day I finally dethrone Lucas at Galaga.”

“In your dreams, Henderson,” Lucas scoffs, holding the door open for the group.

They filter inside, neon lights flickering to life above them, the familiar hum and clatter of machines filling the space. Eddie trails behind, glancing around the place like he’s expecting something. Or, well... someone.

“So,” Dustin says as he drops a quarter into Galaga and starts mashing buttons. “What’s up with you? You look... I don’t know. Twitchy.”

“Twitchy?” Eddie echoes, leaning against the machine and crossing his arms. “I’m not twitchy.”

“You’re twitchy,” Dustin confirms, nodding with absolute confidence. “Like you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, Henderson.” Eddie shrugs, forcing a grin. “Although, Harrington did say something earlier about maybe showing up. So, y’know.” He waves his hand around, trying to look casual.

Dustin’s fingers pause just slightly over the controls. He glances up, brow furrowed. “Steve? Here?”

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, he just… he asked if you guys would still be here after five, so.”

Dustin’s frown deepens. “Weird.”

“Why’s that weird?” Eddie asks, his voice a touch too defensive.

Dustin shrugs, focusing back on the screen. “I don’t know. Steve doesn’t really... I mean, he comes to the arcade sometimes, but not, like, voluntarily. Usually, I gotta beg him. Or bribe him.”

Eddie’s stomach does a weird flip. “Yeah, well... maybe he’s just got nothing better to do today.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dustin says, but he sounds unconvinced. He keeps playing, though, and Eddie leans back, folding his arms tighter across his chest and biting back a smile.

Because it’s 3 p.m., and Steve gets off work at 5. Usually takes him a little longer to close up. Maybe he’ll go home and change or something. But if Eddie’s lucky, if he’s really lucky, Steve Harrington might just stroll through those doors at approximately 6 p.m.

Or he won’t show up at all.

But Eddie can’t bring himself to care about that possibility, because the other one is way too good to think about.

The arcade is buzzing with life. Neon lights flicker in a frenetic dance, casting electric shadows across the sticky linoleum floors. The air smells like popcorn and dusted-off carpet, punctuated with the occasional zap of a game resetting or the hollow clatter of quarters hitting the bottom of machines.

Eddie trails behind the group, trying, and failing, not to look at his watch every five minutes. He swears he’s not. He’s just...making sure time is still moving.

Dustin is elbow-deep in a Galaga run, fingers tapping like he’s playing a damn concerto. Max is currently murdering Lucas at Street Fighter, her grin so wide it’s practically smug. Mike is lurking over at Pac-Man, slamming the joystick around like it owes him money.

Eddie’s wandering between machines, playing a little of this, a little of that. He doesn’t really have the quarters to be throwing around today, but he’s good at pretending.

The Frogger machine lets out a harsh, pixelated screech as Dustin’s little green frog is unceremoniously flattened by a semi-truck.

“Damn it!” Dustin groans, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I was right there! You saw that, right? That was cheating.”

Eddie, who’s been leaning against the side of the machine with his arms crossed and a lazy grin on his face, just shakes his head. “Oh, no, Henderson. That was all you. I’ve never seen a frog commit suicide so enthusiastically.”

Dustin whips around to glare at him. “I’d like to see you do better, man.”

“Nah, I’m more of a Centipede guy. Frogger takes too much...what’s the word? Coordination.” He waves his hand around like it’s a foreign concept.

“Right.” Dustin snorts, feeding another quarter into the machine. “Well, at least I’m not as bad as Steve was.”

Eddie’s grin grows wider, and he straightens up from the machine. “Hey now, it was his first time,” he defends, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “You can’t expect the King of Hawkins High to be good at everything.”

“Uh, yeah, I can,” Dustin counters, slapping the Start button. “Especially considering how much damn money he threw at this thing. I’m pretty sure he bought stock in Frogger that day.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning back again. It’s easy to get lost in the rhythm of watching Dustin struggle his way through the levels, but there’s still a nagging itch under his skin. The clock on the wall ticks in his peripheral vision, a taunting little reminder that, no, it’s not 5 yet.

He rubs his palms together absently, eyes flicking to the arcade entrance every now and then. Not that he’s expecting anyone. Not that he’s waiting. That would be… no. Nope. Absolutely not.

Eddie eventually tears himself away from watching Dustin get absolutely demolished at Frogger. He needs a distraction. A real one. Not one that involves a clock he can see from the corner of his eye.

He spots Mike near the back of the arcade, hunched over a Galaga machine with his tongue sticking out in concentration. He’s all limbs and messy hair, looking like a baby giraffe trying to play video games. Eddie strides over, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

“Hey, Wheeler,” he greets, leaning against the machine and ignoring the annoyed look Mike shoots him.

“Eddie,” Mike replies stiffly, eyes not leaving the screen. He’s tapping the buttons furiously, clearly trying to shake Eddie’s presence.

“Where’s Byers today?” Eddie asks casually, eyeing the screen as Mike’s ship gets blasted to bits by pixelated aliens.

Mike stiffens, just barely. “Busy.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie grins, catching the edge in Mike’s voice. “Doing what?”

Mike huffs, smacking the side of the machine when the screen flashes Game Over. “Stuff.”

Eddie arches an eyebrow. “Right. Stuff. That’s real specific, Wheeler.”

Mike turns to him, crossing his arms like he’s trying to appear intimidating. He mostly just looks like a pissed-off cat. “It’s none of your business, man.”

Eddie raises his hands defensively, though he can’t help the grin spreading across his face. “Hey, just askin’. You two are pretty much a package deal, you know. Kinda weird not seeing you stuck to each other like glue.”

Mike’s cheeks flush, and he looks back at the dark screen of the Galaga machine. “He’s with Jonathan. Having, like...brother bonding or whatever.”

“Oh, right. That’s cute.” Eddie nods, but he can’t quite shake the way Mike’s voice gets all tight and defensive when Will’s name is mentioned. “You two have a fight or something?”

“No,” Mike says, far too quickly. He glances back at Eddie, eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”

Eddie shrugs, leaning back a bit and examining his nails with deliberate nonchalance. “I don’t. Just...I dunno. Was curious.”

Mike’s eyes dart away, hands still gripping the edge of the machine. “We’re fine. He’s just...busy.”

“Right. Busy,” Eddie echoes, voice dripping with scepticism. He watches as Mike’s jaw tightens, and his eyes flicker with something. Guilt? Embarrassment? Both?

“Why are you asking all these questions?” Mike snaps suddenly, turning back to face Eddie fully.

Eddie blinks, holding his hands up again. “Whoa, calm down, dude. I’m just making conversation. Didn’t realize it was such a sensitive subject.”

Mike’s face goes redder, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’s not. I just...it’s fine. We’re fine.”

Eddie tilts his head, watching the kid for a moment longer. There’s something there, something just under the surface that Mike’s scrambling to cover up. But Eddie’s been around enough to know what that looks like. He’s worn the same expression too many times not to recognize it.

But he just shrugs again, letting Mike off the hook. “Cool. Just checking.”

Mike glares at him for a moment longer before turning back to the machine and jamming another quarter in with more force than necessary. Eddie watches him for a few more seconds, the wheels in his head turning.

Interesting.

But now he needs a new distraction. He wanders over to the prize counter, serverying the options and the ridiculous amount of tickets you’d need to win any of it.

The guy behind the counter is barely paying attention, slumped over a magazine with his head resting on his hand. He’s half asleep, maybe hungover, and certainly not invested in the three screaming kids trying to pick between a slinky or a pack of bouncy balls.

Eddie’s fingers drum idly against his thigh as he eyes the glass display. It’s mostly crap, plastic trinkets and rubber toys, but there’s this lighter. A heavy, silver Zippo with a skull engraved on the front. It’s the only thing behind the glass that looks halfway decent, and it’s glaringly out of place among the piles of neon-colored garbage.

Eddie is, by nature, a creature of impulse. He’s like a magpie. He sees something shiny, and he wants it. So he takes it. Sometimes he tells himself it’s his way of rebelling against the corrupt capitalist society they live in. But really, he just thinks that's a badass lighter.

He glances back at the guy behind the counter, who’s still drooling over his magazine. He catches Dustin in the corner of his eye, still bickering with Lucas over who actually won Pac-Man, and Max is nowhere to be seen, probably demolishing some poor kid at Dig Dug.

Eddie rocks back on his heels, tapping his fingers a little faster, before he huffs out a breath and leans over the counter. His ringed fingers slip easily between the lid and the glass, and it takes nothing more than a little nudge to get it to pop open.

The guy doesn’t even flinch.

Eddie snorts under his breath. Amateur.

His hand darts in and snatches the lighter, and he’s slipping it into his pocket before he’s even straightened back up. He shoves his hands deep into his jacket pockets, rocking back like he’s just browsing the stupid plastic keychains and slap bracelets.

Dustin comes barreling around the corner, his voice raised in triumph. “I told you, Sinclair, you cheated! No way you got that high of a score without rigging it!”

Lucas follows, rolling his eyes. “It’s called skill, Henderson. Maybe look it up sometime.”

They almost crash into Eddie, who chuckles and steps back dramatically. “Whoa there, gremlins. Arcade wars getting a little too real?”

Dustin scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You wish. Lucas is just a sore loser.”

“Sure,” Lucas deadpans. “That’s definitely what happened.”

Eddie’s fingers fiddle with the lighter in his pocket, turning it over and feeling the cool metal press against his knuckles. It’s heavier than he expected. Satisfying. He can already picture himself flicking it open with a dramatic snap, leaning against the wall, cigarette dangling from his lips.

He catches the arcade attendant still hunched over his magazine, oblivious, and Eddie can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.

It’s when he’s watching Lucas getting really pissed off at a claw machine, trying to win something for Max, probably, that his watch ticks past 5pm. He’s managed to distract himself up until this point, and now the antsy, nervous feeling in his gut is kicking back up again.

God, he probably won’t even show, Munson. He keeps telling himself that, trying to push down the shameful excitement that's built up inside of him. He needs to keep his expectations low, because if, or when, Steve doesn’t show, his disappointment will be immeasurable.

5:30.

Lucas, now with a weird looking teddy bear in hand, is discussing with Mike about whether they should head to a diner for food after this. Mike’s arguing that they can’t go to waffle house because you can’t eat waffles for dinner, and Lucas is arguing they can do whatever they want.

6:00.

Lucas had given Max the teddy bear, and she made a face like she could vomit and punched Lucas in the arm, but she’s been holding it pretty damn close for the last 15 minutes, and shot Eddie a glare when he raised a brow at her.

Eddie keeps glancing at the door.

He’s not gonna show. He probably has something better to do. Probably got asked on 3 different dates this afternoon, and is probably going on all 3 this evening. What an idiot. With his stupid smirk and stupid perfect hair and stupid nice smelling cologne and stupid biceps. He’s so stupid. Steve freaking Harrington.

The neon lights and mind numbing sounds of pixelated noise coming from the machines has pretty much consumed his brain at this point. He’s been here so long he thinks he’ll probably hear these noises when he’s falling asleep tonight.

But he watches Dustin chase Lucas around the place as Lucas screams like a girl, holding Hendersons cap above his head, while Max watches, trying to look exasperated but there’s a small grin on her face. Meanwhile, Mike is at the counter hauling a pile of tickets onto it, pointing aggressively at shit in the glass case, a bunch of crap he wants in return for the tickets. The guy behind the counter looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

That’s when Eddie gets tapped on the shoulder. He whips his head round to the right, the side he was poked on, and there’s no one there. Confused, he turns the other way, to see Steve Harrington standing there, laughing at him.

Holy shit.

Eddie punches him on the arm. “Asshole.” He says, but he’s grinning way too wide for it to come out as vicious.

Steve just smirks at him, clearly very amused by his little trick. He’s wearing a deep navy polo shirt that's tucked into his jeans, silver belt buckle glinting in the flashing lights of the arcade. His hair is, as usual, immaculate, and soft looking, and Eddie can smell he’s put on way too much cologne, but he doesn’t half mind. Steve went home to get ready to come out.

He realises he probably shouldn’t have looked Steve up and down, because Steve is giving him a little look with his brows raised.

“So, what have I missed?” He asks, vaguely amused, watching as Dustin jumps at Lucas.

“Not a lot.” Eddie says, still smiling so hard his cheeks are starting to hurt. “Dusty-buns is currently retrieving his hat from a thieving Sinclair, Mayfields trying to act like she’s not swooning over the fact her little boyfriend won her a teddy, and I think Wheelers currently seeing how many Mike and Ikes he can buy.” He narrows his eyes at Mike. “It’s a little self absorbed, your favourite candy being the one with your name in it, i’d say.”

Steve laughs, and Eddie’s entire body is still buzzing with excitement, like Steve’s mere presence next to him has brought a warmth he doesn’t want to get rid of. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than being stood so close to Steve Harrington that their shoulders are brushing and he’s being practically smothered by that cologne. Was there hints of Sandalwood in that?

Dustin spots Steve and his eyes light up as he places his cap back on his head. He grins boyishly as he runs over to them.

“Steve!” He exclaims, practically jumping on the spot, and Steve shakes his head in amusement.

Usually, Eddie would feel a little pang of jealousy at Dustin's excitement, but honestly, Eddie would react like an excited puppy at seeing Steve Harrington too, if he wasn’t too busy trying to act cool.

“What’s going on, man?” Dustin asks excitedly. “Why’re you here?”

Steve shrugs. “Nothing better to do. Thought I'd come hang out with you nerds.” He gives Eddie a little glance, and Eddie just grins at him like an idiot.

“Awesome!” Dustin smiles, and Steve huffs a laugh. God, they were like brothers. “Well, do you have any quarters? I wanna play Donkey Kong again.”

Steve clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Is that all I am to you? A wallet?”

Dustin scoffs a laugh. “Pretty much.”

Steve just gives an exasperated sigh, but he’s digging into his pocket for his wallet, and Dustin turns on his heel and bounds over to the Donkey Kong machine, and Steve follows. He looks at Eddie over his shoulder.

“You coming, Munson?” He grins, and Eddie just stares at him for a second, before nodding, and rushing up to fall into step with Steve as he tilts his wallet and shakes out a few quarters into his palm.

Dustin stares at Steve expectantly, and Harrington slaps a couple quarters down on top of the machine.

“Think that’ll keep you busy for a while, Henderson?”

Dustin’s eyes go wide. “You’re a godsend.” He snatches them up without hesitation and jams one into the slot, immediately hammering the buttons with focused determination.

Steve watches for a second, slightly entertained, before turning to Eddie.

“I don’t know how you guys spend so long in here.” He folds his arms, leaning against the side of the machine, and Eddie jams his hands into his pockets to stop them from fidgeting nervously.

“Yeah, well, when you’re actually good at the games it doesn’t get boring.” He smirks, and Steve raises an offended brow.

“Sorry I have better things to do than trying to get the high score in Pac-Man all day.” He teases, tilting his head a little.

“Yet here you are.” Eddie gives a smug grin, hands slipping out his pockets to gesture dramatically at the arcade.

Steve just glances around, an unimpressed expression on his face. “I’m not here for the games, Munson.” He says dryly, but he’s got this smirk on his face that makes the knot in Eddie’s gut tighten. Oh.

“What are you here for, then?” Eddie leans in a little, voice teasing. “Watch these gremlins go feral over trying to get enough tickets to win an action figure?”

Steve just gives him an amused look, that weird, unreadable glance he keeps giving him, the one that makes Eddie feel like he’s missing something.

His eyes scan the room before landing on an arcade cabinet near the back. “Hey, what’s that one?” He nods towards the flashing lights of Street Fighter II.

Eddie glances over. “That? That’s Street Fighter II. A classic. Way better than all this Pac-Man bullshit.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise, interest flickering in his eyes. “You any good?”

Eddie straightens up, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Oh, the best.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s grin widens, and before Eddie can even think of what to say, Steve’s hand closes around his wrist. “Come on then.”

Eddie stumbles slightly as he’s pulled forward, and the warmth of Steve’s hand is seeping through the fabric of his jacket, sending tiny shocks up his arm. He’s too surprised to do anything but follow, letting himself be dragged across the arcade.

Steve looks back at him with that grin still in place, eyes glimmering with something sharp and playful. “You gonna show me how it’s done?”

Eddie just stares at him, dazed, and then laughs, shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret this, Harrington.”

“Try me,” Steve says, voice dripping with challenge.

And Eddie… well, Eddie’s never been good at backing down from a challenge. Especially not when Steve Harrington is the one issuing it.

Steve pulls a few more quarters from his wallet, before jamming one into the machine, slipping his wallet back into his pocket and gesturing towards the machine.

“Come on then,” He grins lazily. “Impress me.”

Eddie makes a show out of cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders. Oh, he’s about to win the shit out of Street Fighter.

He starts mashing buttons and shoving joysticks like crazy, but it’s strategic precision. He sees Steve watching him with raised brows in his peripherals, but he ignores it to the best of his ability. Not that he thinks being amazing at an arcade game would impress Steve Harrington. If anything, Steve’ll probably think him more of a loser. But, if anything, this was for his pride.

“This, Stevie,” He announces, after defeating an opponent. “Is how you should be impressing the ladies.”

Steve scoffs a laugh. “I don’t see any ‘ladies’ in here above the age of 15, Munson.”

Eddie shoots him a side glance, ginning. “Ladies aren’t exactly my target audience, anyway.”

Steve just hums, but he’s grinning, like there’s something entertaining about this. Eddie sticks his tongue out a little in concentration.

“Well, in that case,” He leans against the machine, folding his arms, dropping his tone. “I’m very impressed.”

Eddie blinks for a second, and takes a hit of damage because his stomach has just done a weird little flip. He gives Steve a quizzical little glance, before focusing back on the game.

“I’d appreciate if you shut up now.” Eddie says dryly. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

Steve just laughs softly, and Eddie goes back to manically mashing shit, until he’s defeated the last opponent.

As this pixelated little victory screen pops up, Eddie steps back, throwing his arms out with a smug grin on his face.

Steve raises his brows, and gives him a mock round of applause, and Eddie bows dramatically.

“Thank you, thank you.” He says theatrically. “I’m here all night.”

Steve laughs this easy, lighthearted laugh, and it makes Eddie grin like an idiot, and for a moment, everything feels good. Easy. Warm.

“Well, King Steve,” Eddie steps back, gesturing to the machine. “Your turn.”

Steve huffs and shakes his head. “No way. I am not embarrassing myself again.”

“Oh, come on.” Eddie leans in teasingly. “I would so enjoy watching you fail.”

Steve shoots him a little glare. “No.” He nudges Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction.”

Eddie does his best to frown in disappointment, but Steve just laughs, drumming his fingers against the side of the machine.

“You’re boring.” Eddie folds his arms. Steve scrunches up his face in offence.

“Am not.” He argues. Then, he pushes off the machine, stepping past Eddie.

“Where’re you going?” Eddie raises a brow at him.

“For a smoke.” He says simply, gesturing for Eddie to follow. And Eddie does. Like a damn dog.

They walk through the arcade, side by side, and Eddie can see Max swinging full pelt at one of those Boxing machines, Lucas watching with a mix of fear and admiration, clutching the teddy bear as he watches the number flick up above 800. Eddie laughs and thinks to remind himself to never get on her bad side.

They escape the mass of noise and neon lights and push through the doors, onto the pavement outside, and the humid summer evening, sun beaming down on the cars in the lot. There’s a few exasperated parents dragging their kids away from the arcade, presumably because it’s around dinner time, and a few teenagers on bikes with water guns they’d just won from the arcade, squealing as they squirt water at each other.

Steve leans against the wall, and holds his hand out. Eddie raises a brow.

“Oh, you don’t even have your own?” He asks dryly, sighing as he reaches into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. “Poach of the poor man, why don’t ya.”

Steve laughs. “Hey, I've done enough charity for you in my time that you can at least spare a cigarette.”

“Charity?” Eddie scoffs, pulling out a worn out pack of Marlboro Reds. “Here I thought you were just being a gentleman.”

Steve shrugs cooly. “Same thing.” He grins, and Eddie tries to look annoyed but he can’t help the small smirk on his lips.

He takes two out, bringing one to his own lips before holding the other one out to Steve. He takes it with a gracious nod. Eddie reaches into his pocket, sliding the pack in there and retrieving the badass Zippo lighter he ‘borrowed’, flicking the lid and bringing the flame to the tip of the cigarette before breathing in to light it.

Then, he holds it out to Steve, flicking it on again, and Steve leans his head forward a little, putting his hand gently on Eddies to steady his hand, and holy shit it felt like fireworks shot up Eddie’s arm. He was so hyper focused on the feeling of his warm hand on top of Eddie’s, against the cool metal of his rings, that he almost missed when Steve glanced up at him, head still ducked down, tip of the cigarette in the flame. Eddie's heart flipped in his chest.

Steve pulled back, and Eddie could feel the lingering warmth of his hand like a ghost on his hand as he flipped the lighter closed and returned into his pocket. Steve's lips curl into a smile around the cigarette before he takes a drag, leaning back against the wall.

God damn it Eddie felt like he was about to combust. He falls against the wall, leaning his shoulder against it like it’s the only thing that’ll keep him upright, before he brings the cigarette back to his lips and takes another drag.

“I don’t know how you wear that.” Steve gestures to Eddie’s jacket. “It’s like, 80 degrees out.”

Eddie shrugs, exhaling smoke that curls into the air. “I’m cold blooded.” He grins.

Steve raises an unimpressed brow. “Liar. There’s no way you’re not boiling.”

He was. But hey, it’s fashion. And he doesn’t really feel like walking around in a t-shirt for everyone to see the ugly scars on his arms that look like he’s been torn apart by a rabid animal, which, realistically, isn’t far from the truth.

“I adapt.” Eddie says simply, and Steve hums, unconvinced.

“Just saying,” He says casually, turning his head to exhale a cloud of smoke away from Eddie’s face. “You’d be hot enough already without it.”

Eddie blinks at him, feeling heat rise to his face, and not because of the temperature outside.

What?

“What?” He almost splutters out a lung full of smoke. Steve just shrugs a shoulder at him, but he’s grinning to himself as he brings the cigarette to his lips.

“I meant, like… it’s already hot out… y’know?” He barely even attempts to explain himself, and he shoots Eddie a glance that’s all heat and smirk.

Eddie furrows his brows, and then shoves him gently with one hand, but hard enough that it almost knocks the cigarette out Steve's hand.

“Hey!” He exclaims, but it’s a half laugh. Eddie makes a half sigh, half groan.

“You’re awful.” He mutters. Steve's grin widens, and he leans in.

“You don’t mean that.” He teases, and Eddie’s starting to feel a little nauseous.

“Careful. I won’t hesitate to mess up your perfect hair.” Eddie says dryly, taking another drag.

Steve laughs. “Oh, that’s low.”

Eddie kicks his foot up against the wall, flicking ash onto the ground. “It’s a real threat, Harrington.”

“Sure it is.” Steve scoffs, bringing his cigarette to his lips. “You wouldn’t dare. You couldn’t take me.”

Eddie turns his head, a confused look on his face. Maybe slight concern. Why was Steve being so… weird? And could he stop? It’s making his stomach feel all fluttery. He narrows his eyes at him. If Steve was going to do this weird banter, oh, Eddie could go lower.

“Try me,” He says cooly, raising a brow. “I’d have you pinned in three seconds flat.”

Bold faced lie, really. Eddie wasn’t much of a fighter. His fight or flight response was definitely flight. Well, other than the time he decided to be a hero and get his ass almost killed by a swarm of Demobats, which, coincidentally, Steve Harrington was the one who dragged him outta there. Steve Harrington was a fighter, without question. Without hesitation. He swung nail filled bats first, and asked questions later. And, he was probably a hell of a lot stronger than Eddie. He’d seen Steve’s biceps (definitely hasn’t been thinking about them late at night). But honestly? He’d probably let Steve beat him up. Probably thank him afterwards.

“Is that a challenge, Munson?” Steve smirks, pushing up off the wall and flicking ash to the floor.

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe.” He grins.

The, before he knows it, Steve has put his cigarette between his lips, and lurches forward, giving Eddie a playful shove. Eddie barks a laugh.

“Oh, it’s on!” He says, before lunging towards Steve, attempting to push him back against the wall by the shoulders.

Steve laughs, grabbing Eddie’s wrists. Eddie struggles, attempting to break free, and trying not to think about the fact that Steve would definitely be strong enough to hold him down, before kneeing Steve in the gut. Steve makes a little ‘oof’ sound at the impact, as he catches the cigarette that was currently falling out his mouth, and Eddie breaks a wrist free, and jumps forward to wrap his arm around Steve's neck, getting him in a chokehold.

“Not the hair, man!” Steve yells as Eddie laughs, almost hysterically, as he uses his other, now free hand to mess up Steve's perfect, soft hair.

Steve twists his body, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist, before pushing forward, Steve’s shoulder driving Eddie backwards into the wall.

“Hey!” Eddie shouts, attempting to push Steve off, one hand shoving at Steve’s shoulder, the other smacking at his back.

He manages to push Steve a bit away, but now their faces are scarily close, and Steve’s hair is messy and unkempt, brown strands falling over his forehead, and he’s grinning wildly. His hand reaches up to grab Eddie’s wrist, and Eddie uses his other free hand to punch Steve in the chest, not hard, but not soft, either. Steve looks vaguely unaffected, just grinning smugly at Eddie.

Eddie pokes Steve in the side, hard, and it makes Steve recoil a little, and Eddie uses this moment of weakness to push himself off the wall, and escape Steve's grip. Steve straightens, a mischievous glint in his eye that makes Eddie’s chest do something weird and warm, before Steve rolls his shoulders.

“You’re in for it now,” He warns, stubbing his cigarette out on the wall and tossing it to the ground. Eddie blinks at him, before grinning.

“Oh, shiver me timbers.” He teases, but then Steve lunges towards him, and he yelps.

Steve's arms are around his torso again, and Eddie barks out a laugh as he stumbles, Steve almost tackling him to the ground, Eddie finally dropping his almost burnt out cigarette to the ground. He attempts to get him in a headlock again, simultaneously using his other hand to try to pry his arm off from around him. He stumbles again, trying to pull Steve off of him one hand hooking under Steve's arm, but Steve just shoves forward again, pushing Eddie back against the wall so hard it almost knocks the wind out of him. But Eddie was quick. As much as he’d love to just let Steve Harrington pin him against the wall, unfortunately Eddie had to keep his dignity.

He grabs Steve by the front of his shirt, and spins round, using the momentum of the movement to instead push Steve against the wall, while Steve smacks at his shoulder with one hand, and uses the other to try and push Eddie away by the waist, which totally doesn’t make Eddie feel weird at all.

They’re both laughing, and Steve’s saying “Stop, stop!” between laughs, but, seemingly, Dustin doesn’t notice this, as he rushes up to them.

“Eddie!” He calls, alarmed, and before Eddie can even lower his arms, Dustin’s grabbed him by the jacket, pulling him back. “Jesus christ, dude! Can’t you two get along for five minutes?”

“Henderson-” Eddie starts, but Dustin cuts him off.

“I thought you liked Steve now! What are you doing?” He continues lecturing him, looking between him and a breathless Steve who was now fixing his hair.

“Wait,” He waves a hand, interjecting himself between them. “You like me, Eddie?” He grins teasingly, and Eddie’s heart does a weird flip, half because of Steve teasing, and half because he can’t remember the last time Steve actually called him ‘Eddie’ to his face.

Eddie just casually raises a brow at him. “In your dreams, sweetheart.”

Steve huffs a laugh, and Eddie bites his lip, failing to bite back a grin. Dustin, meanwhile, is staring at them, confused.

“What is going on?” He asks, blinking as he tries to examine the situation.

“You seriously thought he was beating me up?” Steve asks dryly, giving Eddie a light shove. “I’d beat him in a fight any day.”

“Certainly didn’t look like you were winning there.” Eddie mutters, recovering quickly as he straightens up.

Steve shoots him a little glare. “I wasn’t trying. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, wow.” Eddie mocks, “How considerate of you.”

Steve grins at him, which totally isn’t helping the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest, and Dustin sighs, exasperated.

“So you guys were just messing around.” He looks unimpressed. Eddie straightens his jacket.

“Exactly, Henderson.” He slings an arm around Steve's shoulder like he can’t keep himself off the guy for more than 5 seconds. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face, would we?” He leans in, probably way too close to Steve, voice dropping teasingly. Steve doesn’t veer away. He just smirks, shaking his head.

“No, we wouldn’t.” He says dryly. “You would ruin my streak. This is the longest I've gone without getting a black eye in years.” He grins, but there’s something serious lingering in his tone, something a little darker, and Eddie catches the way Dustin's expression flickers with sympathy before being plastered over with one of amusement.

Something in Eddie’s gut twists painfully, a reminder that he cares way too much about Steve fucking Harrington.

His arm slips from around Steve's shoulders, giving Steve a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Alright, well, we were just about to head to McDonalds.” Dustin says, still with a lingering glint of caution in his eye as he looks between them. “You coming?”

Steve looks at Eddie expectantly, as if Eddie was deciding for them. Eddie spins the ring around his middle finger with his thumb nervously.

“Sure, yeah.” He shrugs, and Steve looks at Dustin and nods.

“And before you ask for a ride,” Steve starts, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t fit all you guys in my car.”

Dustin scoffs. “We’ve got our bikes, anyway, douchebag. I wasn’t gonna ask.” Dustin folds his arms, and Steve pushes past, clapping a hand on Dustins shoulder.

“You totally were. Lazy ass.” He grins, and Dustin gapes at him in offence. He falls into step with Steve as they start walking away.

“I am not lazy,” He argues. “You’re lazy. You haven’t worked out in weeks.”

Eddie smirks as he shoves his hands into his pockets, following them.

“I have.” Steve retorts, brows furrowed in offence. “You think this physique comes from sitting around all day?” He gestures to himself, and Dustin groans. Eddie stifles a laugh.

“What physique?” Dustin says dryly. “You’re totally getting fat.”

“I am not getting fat!” Steve exclaims, smacking the kid on the arm, which just makes Dustin start laughing hysterically. “It’s all muscle.”

Dustin scoffs a laugh, before turning to look at Eddie, jerking a thumb at Steve. “Do you believe this?”

Eddie just grins lazily, shrugging. “I think you look great, Harrington.” He winks, and Steve grins smugly, and adjusts the strap of his watch almost nervously. Weird.

“See?” He raises his brows at Dustin.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Eddie!” He groans, before starting to walk away. “You two weren’t supposed to convene.” He mumbles, walking away towards where Max was balancing on her skateboard, and Lucas and Mike were holding their bikes.

Steve and Eddie share an amused look, and it feels nice, like some sort of joke only they were in on, and, yeah, Eddie could get used to this.

Dustin goes over to the others, picking his bike up off the ground, and Steve and Eddie stand facing them. Steve puts his hands on his hips.

“Right, so you’re all cycling…” He trails off, eyes landing on Max. “Or… skating, I guess?”

Max shrugs, stepping on the end of her board, and it kicks up, and she catches the other end in her hand.

“Yeah,” Mike nods. “We’ll meet you there.” He climbs onto his bike.

“Alright, I'm taking Munson from you.” He claps Eddie on the back.

Dustin shrugs, before climbing on his own bike. “Alright, man. Just don’t go off on some adventure or something.”

Eddie grins. “No promises.”

Dustin just scoffs, before the group starts cycling off, Max dropping her skateboard and stepping on it, skating up to Lucas’ side.

“Radio if anything happens!” Steve calls after them, and Lucas gives him a thumbs up, Dustin looks back and nods with a little wave, and Max flips him off. Mike just ignores him. Typical.

Steve sighs, before reaching into his pocket for his keys.

Alone. With Steve Harrington. Again.

They walk towards his car, and Steve slides the key into the driver side door, unlocking it, before climbing in and leaning over to unlock the passenger door inside.

Eddie pops the door open, falling into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him. He sprawls out in the seat, making himself comfortable.

“How do you even get places, man?” Steve asks curiously as he turns the key in the ignition. “You don’t drive, or cycle.”

Eddie raises a brow. “You don’t know?” Steve glances at him quizzically as he pulls out the lot. “I teleport.” Eddie says with complete seriousness.

Steve scoffs a laugh. “Right. That makes sense.”

Eddie shrugs, smirking. “Seriously. I think I black out or something. I sorta just show up places.”

Steve shakes his head, grinning in amusement. “You’re an idiot.”

There's a fondness in his tone Eddie doesn’t expect. One that makes his heart do a weird little flip. He smiles at Steve like an idiot, staring at his profile for longer than he should. Before he manages to look away, Steve glances at him. Just… looks at him. For the sake of it. Before smiling to himself and staring back at the road. There's that damn joke again that Eddie’s not in on.

Seriously. Eddie thinks he’s going delusional. Maybe this is all in his head. Maybe he took something this morning and forgot about it. But things are… weird. Steves being weird. He can’t quite place it. But it’s certainly not helping his weak old heart.

They sit in comfortable silence, Eddie fidgeting with his rings, hoping Steve doesn’t notice how he traces the silver dragon wrapped around his middle finger.

They end up driving past the kids on their bikes, and Steve flips them off and laughs like an idiot, and Dustin sticks his tongue out at him as Max sticks up two fingers at them.

Eddie just sits there thinking about what an idiot Steve Harrington really is. Beneath all the cool, above it all King Steve bullshit. He’s just a guy. A funny, sorta goofy idiot of a guy. And Eddie feels like it’s some sort of privilege to get to see this side of him. Like, they’re close or something.

“Hey!” He exclaims as the radio starts playing some The La’s song. “I love this song.” He cranks the dial, turning it up.

Eddie doesn’t complain. He usually would. Throw out some exasperated insult about Steve’s shitty music taste, but Steves smiling to himself like there’s nowhere he’d rather be, and tapping the wheel along to the beat.

Eddie doesn’t mind. Not one bit.

Chapter Text

Eddie couldn’t sit still. He’d tried, flopped onto the couch with his guitar for about thirty seconds before his knee started bouncing, and the restlessness crawled back under his skin like fire ants. Now he was scrubbing the kitchen counter with a vigor that might’ve actually frightened him if he stopped long enough to think about it.

Wayne shuffled in, scratching at his beard, and paused in the doorway to the kitchen, eyes narrowed like Eddie might’ve been possessed. “You on somethin’?” he asked gruffly, voice thick with sleep.

Eddie huffed, scrubbing at a stubborn stain that probably hadn’t been touched in ten years. “No, I’m not on something.” He shoots his uncle a little glare.

“You’re cleanin’.” Wayne leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms like he didn’t entirely believe that answer.

“Yeah. So?”

Wayne’s eyes narrowed further, brow creasing. “So, I’ve lived with you for a lotta years now, kid. Ain’t never seen you this concerned about a countertop.”

Eddie paused, the rag going still in his hand. He glanced over his shoulder, hair falling into his eyes. “Well, maybe I’m just trying something new. Ever think of that?”

Wayne grunted, scratching at his cheek. “Nope.”

Eddie sighed, tossing the rag into the sink with a wet slap. “Fine,” he muttered, turning to face him. “My friend’s coming over.”

Wayne sighs, his shoulders dropping. “A boy?” He asks, exasperated.

Eddie straightens, alarmed. He blinks at his uncle, ignoring the heat that's rising to his face. “No.” He says firmly. “I mean, yeah. But not, like… a boy-boy. Y’know?” He tries to explain, and Wayne gives him a quizzical look before Eddie spins back around, straightening up the knife block like Steve’d be impressed by the world's straightest knife block.

Wayne huffs a little, gruff, amused laugh, sidling into the little kitchen.

“So, who’re you tryna impress?” He raises a brow, and Eddie doesn’t even look at him, as he neatly folds the ragged tea towel they have.

“Steve,” He says, stepping back and admiring their now almost-spotless little cramped kitchen. “And I'm not trying to impress him.” He shoots his Uncle a dry look, before rushing off to the living room, picking up the blanket that’s strewn across the floor and beginning to fold it.

At McDonalds the other day with the others, Max had started making fun of Lucas for almost peeing himself when watching Poltergeist the other day. Max and Eddie had then gotten into a very passionate conversation about horror movies, debating which ones were the best. Max likes the gory ones while Eddie prefers the more psychological ones. Mike and Dustin had chimed in, adding something about ones that were cool. Mike said something about Friday the 13th.

“Isn’t that the one you wanted me to watch?” Steve asked, gesturing at Eddie with a fry before shoving it in his mouth.

Eddie blinked at him, a little surprised that Steve had remembered that. He’d mentioned it in passing, like, ages ago.

“Yeah, man. It’s like a total classic.” Eddie had grinned, scooping up way too much ketchup onto one fry.

“You wanna watch it?” Steve threw out so casually that it took Eddie like surprise, and he had to internally reboot, making sure he’d heard it right.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Cool.”

From there, they had arranged for Steve to come by after work two days later, taking the VHS from family video. It had happened so fast and so casually, that it really hit him in bed that night that he was going to casually hang out with Steve Harrington. Alone.

He hears that Wayne has followed him, watching him like he’s a wild animal, leaning against the wall in the small, cramped hall of their trailer.

“You know, he’s like, super rich.” He says, strategically placing the neatly folded blanket over the arm of their shitty couch. “I just don’t want him to think we live like total slobs.” He keeps talking as he starts picking up stray cans and trash on the floor, bundling them in his arms.

“You’ve never cared about that before.” He says dryly, as Eddie pushes past him to throw the stuff in his arms into the trash in the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, this is the first proper-real time coming over.” He rushes back to the living room, inspecting the mess of magazines and record sleeves and VHS tapes in front of the little TV, before springing into action, picking them up and stacking the magazines together, putting them into a neat pile and stashing them under the coffee table.

“You sure you not tryna impress this boy?” Wayne raises an unimpressed brow at him, and Eddie just scoffs, sliding VHS tapes back into the little shelf on the table beneath the TV.

“100%.” He says with conviction. He inspects a stray record and rubs his shirt sleeve over it, before sliding it back into its rightful sleeve. Waynes, obviously. Eddie would never treat his records like that. And, he’s more of a tape guy.

“You keep yappin’ on about him.” Wayna says plainly, and Eddie shoots him a glare over his shoulder as he slips the few records in his hands back into the basket.

“I do not.” He snaps, brushing some random crumbs and fluff on the wooden floor underneath the table.

Wayne just hums. Eddie stands, swivelling round to pick up a pile of dirty clothes that were totally his, and squeezing past Wayne again to go dump it in the laundry basket in his bedroom.

His bedroom. Shit.

His bedroom looks like a bombs gone off.

Wayne, whose now stood in his doorway behind him, huffs a laugh.

“Good luck with that.” He says dryly, and Eddie huffs at him, slamming the lid of the laundry basket closed.

He grabs the edge of his bed sheet, and throws his arms up, resetting the sheet neatly on top of his bed, and a stray sock flings off and onto the floor. He bends over to pick it up.

“I’m workin’ late tonight, so you kids stay outta trouble.” Wayne says with vague amusement. Eddie spins round and throws the sock at him, which Wayne just huffs a laugh, lifting the lid of the laundry basket and throwing the sock in there, before spinning round and disappearing back to his own room.

Eddie stood in the middle of his room, hands on his hips, surveying the absolute war zone that lay before him. Dirty clothes were strewn about like casualties of a long-forgotten battle, cassette tapes were scattered across the floor, empty soda cans leaned precariously on his nightstand, and the ashtray on top of his dresser was overflowing with cigarette butts and crumpled rolling papers.

He crossed the room, stepping over piles of laundry and nearly tripping over his combat boots, and jammed a tape into his battered old stereo. He cranked the volume up loud enough to shake the windows and fill the tiny trailer with the thunderous sounds of Metallica. If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it right.

He goes back over to his bed, smoothing the sheet over, before fluffing up his flat pillows for good measure.

Next, he tackled the floor. He gathered up stray socks, flannels, band shirts, most of which he sniffed for good measure before tossing them into the laundry basket. He grabbed the empty cans and bottles, lining them up like soldiers on a shelf before hauling them out to the kitchen for recycling. He even kicked some of the junk out from under his bed, shoving it into a trash bag with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.

His eyes fell on the dresser. He sighed. This was going to be a job and a half. He grabbed the ashtray first, grimacing at the mess, and dumped it out in the trash. He wiped down the surface with an old rag, clearing away ash and dust, then lined up his collection of rings and bracelets neatly on the edge. His stack of tapes got some love too, he sorted through them, returning missmatched tapes to their rightful cases, organizing them into something that almost resembled a system into the box that he slides under his bed.

Finally, Eddie turned to his guitar. His sweetheart was hanging on the wall, slightly crooked. He stepped over, straightened it with a gentle hand, and gave the strings a light pluck.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured affectionately. “We’ll get our time later.”

He steps back, surveying his room, admiring his work. He grins to himself in approval. He thinks he’d make an excellent goddamn house wife.

He checks his watch.

10:34am.

Steve doesn’t get off work until 5.

That’s… 6 hours and 26 minutes.

Damn it.

Oh, shit. Steve’ll probably want food.

There’s no god damn way he’s feeding Steve Harrington whatever the fuck him and Wayne have in the kitchen. Oh, yeah, Steve, here’s stale bread and half a can of beans and maybe an egg. What a banquet.

He sighs, hearing the front door of the trailer close as Wayne leaves for work, and he kneels down, scrounging around under his bed for the metal tin.

He pulls it out, and checks his stash. It’s relatively good. He bought off his guy like two weeks ago, with cash he found in a wallet that totally wasn’t his, but he hasn’t really sold anything, mostly just using it himself, recreationally, of course.

He stands, grabbing his jacket, before shutting the lid of the metal lunchbox and bicking it up, slipping it into a backpack.

He stands again, slipping his jacket on, and slinging the backpack over his shoulder. Right. Time to go to work.

The walk to the park on Maple took about twenty minutes, but it was worth it. The picnic benches under the sprawling oak trees had been Eddie’s makeshift office for years now. Kids from the high school, older burnouts, and even the occasional desperate housewife knew this was where to find him. It was safe enough, quiet, tucked away, and with enough escape routes if the wrong people showed up.

He dropped his bag onto the bench, pulled out his lighter, and lit a cigarette as he waited. He wasn’t sure if anyone still came here. It’d been a good few weeks since he sold. After the whole… satanic murderer thing, he’d lost a lot of loyal customers.

Surprisingly, It didn’t take long.

First up was Benny, one of the college kids who came back to Hawkins every summer. He ambled up with his usual sloppy grin and a crumpled twenty in his fist. They exchanged the usual pleasantries; “How’s life?” “Still sucks.” “Heard that.” and Benny walked off with a fat baggie stuffed in his coat pocket.

After that, it was pretty steady. Tina Blake from junior year came by with her new boyfriend, giggling nervously as she handed over cash and whispered about how they were going to “get so high.” Eddie just smiled and handed her a joint, throwing in a second one for free because he was feeling generous.

Two more drop-ins, a couple of regulars, who all seemed surprised that Eddie was back, asking him questions that Eddie just shrugged and said he needed the cash, and he was nearly out. Eddie leaned back on the bench, cigarette dangling from his lips, and counted the cash. Not bad for an afternoon’s work.

A familiar voice called out from the edge of the park, and Eddie’s head snapped up. James Pickett, one of the older burnouts, waved him over, already digging in his pockets. Eddie grinned, stuffed the money into his jacket, and strode over to make the last sale of the day.

When he finally started back towards the trailer, the sun was starting to dip. It was basically 5. Shit. He’d be fine. Steve probably wouldn’t show up until around 6 anyway. He thought he’d surely go home and change first.

His pockets were full of crumpled bills, and there was a spring in his step that hadn’t been there earlier.

He reaches his trailer, unlocking the door with jangling keys, as he thought to himself about what an incredible business man he was, even after everything.

He steps in the door, and considers the fact that when people want drugs, they’ll look past the weird rumours about the dealer. Honestly, people who’d bought from Eddie before Chrissy died were the ones that believed his innocence the most. They were the ones that knew that Eddie was actually probably the nicest dealer Hawkins had ever seen.

He pulls the bills from his pocket, and flops down on his couch, counting through it.

275 American Dollars.

He smiles to himself.

More than he needed, really. He only really needed to be out for like an hour and make 50 bucks. Enough to order a pizza and a little change for himself.

But he really got into the flow of it. It was a good day. Summer break, on a nice day like this? And things picked up a lot damn more than he thought it would. Benny probably sent a couple his way, and now, apparently, Eddie Munson was officially back in business.

Then, he hears a car pulling up outside.

Shit.

He jumps up, rushing over to peer through the blinds of the trailer window.

Steve Harrington's BMW was pulling into the lot.

God damn it.

He checks his watch.

5:23

Why is he so early?

Eddie practically sprints through the trailer, snatching his backpack up on the way. He rushes into his bedroom, throwing the backwack at the foot of his bed, before tearing off his jacket, and hooking it over the door handle of his closet.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He practically rips off his shirt, getting a little caught up in it before he manages to get it off, throwing the Dio t-shirt into the laundry basket like it was a basketball. Ironic.

He throws open the door of his closet, careful to not tear the leather jacket off the handle. He roots around in it, flicking through hangers.

He finds his Metallica shirt, the one from their tour in 83’, the one with the cool ass design on the back. He slips it on, before slamming the door shut again.

He almost trips as he turns to his dresser, grabbing the bottle of cheap, drug store cologne before practically smothering himself in it. It was running pretty low, actually.

Then, he turns to the mirror, and peers at himself. He looks fine. He fluffs up his hair a bit, running a hand through it to make sure it’s not knotted. Good. Fine.

He heads back to his dresser, a little less urgant now, grabbing his red guitar pick necklace, slipping it over his head, before fluffing his hair out again.

Cool. He’s fine. Why’s he being all weird? It’s not like a date or anything. It’s just Steve. Steve Harrington. Coming over. To watch a movie.

There's a sharp knock at the door, and it makes Eddie jump.

He rushes through the hall and towards the main trailer door, before realising he doesn’t want to seem too eager, so he takes a second to take a breath behind the door, before swinging it open.

Steve Harrington, stood there in a pale blue polo, and the jeans he wears to work, with his hair all stupid and perfect and this dumb, easy grin on his face like he’s genuinely happy to see Eddie. He’s got a tape tucked under his arm, and his car keys in his hand.

“Hey,” He says smoothly. Eddie kicks his brain back into action.

“Hey,” He replies casually, leaning against the doorway, folding his arms. “You’re earlier than I thought you’d be.”

“Yeah, Robin let me leave a little early and I had a change of clothes in my car, so I just came straight here.” He shrugs.

Did he have spare cologne in his car, too? Because it’s a goddamn miracle Eddie doesn’t have asthma. He wears so much damn cologne that it could suffocate someone. Or maybe Eddie’s just gotten really good at picking up on it.

“Someones a little eager.” He raises a brow. Steve just scoffs a laugh.

“Are you gonna let me in or are we gonna stand here talking all night?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, stepping back to let Steve in.

Harrington steps in and surveys the place. It’s not like he hasn’t been here before. But Eddie closes the door behind him, and catches the little, surprised look on his face.

Hopefully he thinks the trailer being a trash heap was a one time thing after the hell that happened, and that it’s usually like this. Clean. Or, clean-er.

He steps into the living room, going to sit down, before noticing the cash on the coffee table.

“What’s that?” He gestures to it, a vague smile on his face. Eddie blinks, before lunging forward to snatch it up. “You been prostituting?” His grin widens, amused with himself.

Eddie glares at him, shoving the cash into the pocket of his ripped black jeans. “No.” He huffs out, but he’s struggling to keep back an amused smile.

“Shame.” Steve says, flopping down on the couch like he owns the place. “Was gonna ask your rate.” He throws Eddie a lazy grin, and Eddie narrows his eyes, more annoyed at himself for the heat rising to his face.

“For you, Stevie,” He starts, sighing, stepping in front of Steve and putting his hands on his hips. “I’d do it for free.”

Steve raises his brows, smile faltering for a second, before his grin slowly widens, before he just takes the VHS tape and holds it out towards Eddie.

Eddie takes it, trying to ignore the weird sort of tension that's shifted in the room, something he’s pretty sure only he’s feeling.

He spins round, crouching down and cracking open the VHS, but hesitates before putting it in the VHS player.

He straightens, spinning around.

“I’m being a terrible host.” He announces, furrowing his brows, and Steves just still looking at him with an amused smile. “Do you want a drink or anything? I think we have soda.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Eddie nods, rushing off to the kitchen and throwing open the door of the fridge, pulling out two off brand Cola’s from a case that was lazily thrown in the bottom shelf. He slams the door, grabbing a bottle opener from the drawer, before sauntering back to the living room.

Steve, whose now kicked off his shoes, was taking up half the couch, leaning back and manspreading like he owned the place.

He graciously presents a soda to Steve.

“Thank you, oh gracious host.” He teases as he takes it, Eddie setting his own on the coffee table and throwing the metal bottle opener into Steves lap.

He hears the crack and the hiss of the soda as he pops the lid off, and the clatter of the little metal lid on the coffee table, as Eddies knelt in front of the TV again, slipping the VHS into the player, and it clicks and whirs.

He straightens, brushing his hands off, and turns, stepping back to the couch and practically throwing himself down on it.

“I can’t believe you roped me into this.” Steve mutters, but there's still a smirk playing on his lips.

“You volunteered yourself, if I remember correctly.” Eddie corrects, leaning forward to grab his soda that he notices Steve has opened for him. Sweet.

“Did not.” Steve argues, furrowing his brow.

“Oh, you absolutely did.” He brings the bottle to his mouth. “Practically invited yourself over.” He takes a sip, as Steve scoffs, offended at the idea.

“I’ll get up and leave, Munson.” He threatens, but there’s no real heat in his tone.

“Awh, Harrington,” Eddie tilts his head teasingly as the start of the movie begins to play. “Don’t worry. It’s not that scary.”

Steve raises a brow, smirking. “You promise?” He plays into the joke, and Eddie blinks at him for a second.

“I’ll hold your hand if you get too scared.” He grins, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He smiles back, and Eddie’s stomach flips.

He’s a little confused.

The movie flickers to life with the creepy camp setting, and there’s already a tension in Steve's brow. Eddie’s mind tries not to linger too long on the fact that Steve has chosen to spend his evening in Eddie Munsons trailer watching a movie he knows he won't like. He tries not to because he knows he’ll read into it too much, and start getting all delusional and get crazy ideas, maybe end up convincing himself that Steve had turned gay overnight or something.

“Hey, let me know when you get hungry.” Eddie says casually, drumming his ringed fingers against his thigh, trying to shove down nervousness. “Was thinking I could order a pizza or something.”

“Didn’t know you even had a phone.” Steve just shoots him a sidelong smirk, and Eddie half shrugs.

“You gotta use the pay phone out by the lot,” He picks at the stray threads where his jeans are ripped at the knee.

“Oh. Right.” Steve’s smirk falters a little, which just makes Eddie grin.

“Welcome to the life of a commoner, King Steve.” He teases, gesturing grandly to the small living room, and the movie has totally started but is, apparently, currently being ignored.

“Shut up.” He huffs, but theres a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he gives Eddie a playful shove.

Eddie thinks about saying ‘make me.’ before he decides that’s probably a little too far, so he just laughs, shaking his head, turning back to the TV.

They just watch the movie for a while, Steve grimacing at the sex scene, and Eddie laughing at him.

They poke fun at whatever's going on on screen, mostly Eddie throwing out jokes about how the stupid teen characters are acting, before explaining the ‘final girl’ trope to Steve, mostly just to make sure Steve doesn’t get too bored. Or shit himself when there's a jumpscare.

The first few kills get Steve, he jumps a little, which Eddie finds very amusing, snorting as he teases Steve how he’s fought off literal demon creatures but a slasher movie scares him as he sips his soda, Steve scoffing and saying it’s unnatural that Edsie enjoys watching this shit. But eventually, they stop surprising him, just making him widen his eyes a little, or make a little groan of distaste when one is particularly brutal.

Approaching half way through the movie, Steve’s stomach audibly growls, and he clutches it, blinking, before Eddie just laughs, throwing his head back.

“So, uh.” Steve grins almost awkwardly. Its cute. “How about that pizza?”

Eddie shakes his head, standing to rush over to the TV and pause it by the button on the side.

“What flavour?” Eddie asks innocently.

“Flavour?” Steve quirks a brow, grinning. Eddie deadpans.

“Like, toppings or whatever. You know what i mean.” He stands in front of Steve, crossing his arms.

“Pepperoni good?” Steve asks, amused smile still lingering. Eddie nods.

“Pepperoni’s good.” Eddie flashes a smile, before shoving his feet into the boots he’d left at the door. Steve follows suit, slipping his sneakers back on.

They leave the trailer, door rattling shut behind them, as the suns beginning to lower in the sky, casting orange rays across the trailer park. Steve picks up his pace to fall into step next to Eddie.

“You’re not a pineapple on pizza guy, are you?” Steve shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, asking like the idea of it was preposterous.

“God, no.” Eddie gives him an offended look. “How low do you think of me?”

They reach the little pay phone at the edge of the lot, and Steve smirks.

“Not low at all. That’s why I was hoping you weren’t into it.” He says simply, and Eddie just fishes around in his jean pockets for a quarter, ignoring the fact that Steve Harrington had just admitted to thinking highly of him.

He slides a quarter into the slot, and dials the number for the local pizza place, remembering the number off by heart.

“Hey, yeah, hi. Placing an order, please.” Eddie says dryly into the phone, as Harrington leans against the payphone cooly, arms crossed.

“Larger pepperoni, please.”

Steve raises his brows like he’s impressed by the ‘large’, and Eddie just sticks his tongue out at him.

“Yeah, Forest Hills Trailer park… number 13.”

Steve just watches him, a strange amusement, or perhaps fondness in his eye, and Eddie just sorta half glares at him, but he’s smiling.

“Alright, cool. Thanks.”

He puts the phone down with a sigh.

“Ten whole minutes, Harrington.” He says. “Think you can survive that long?”

“Not sure.” Steve shrugs, grinning back at him. “Might die of starvation.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone died in my living room.” He says dryly, walking back to the trailer.

Steve, who doesn’t quite know what to say to that, just follows suit.

“Sorry, too soon?” Eddie asks with a small, almost nervous smile.

“Hey, your shit, man. You decide when it’s too soon.” Steve shrugs, offering him a soft, almost comforting look.

Eddie just sorta tilts his head at him for a second, considering this. He doesn’t like soft Steve. It makes him feel way too warm. Way too comfortable.

They make their way back to the trailer, tension alleviating a little when Eddie makes a big gesture out of holding the door open for Steve, and Steve calls him a gentleman, before kicking his shoes back off.

Eddie tears his boots back off, struggling with the right one, before going back to the couch, this time flopping down and crossing his legs beneath him. Apparently, he had misjudged his seating placement, because when Steve sits back down after going over to the TV to press play, spreading out comfortably like he belonged there, they were a little closer this time, shoulders almost brushing.

The movie continues, a characters throat getting slashed, and Eddie can Steves expression of distaste, which amuses him a little.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door.

“Pizza.” Eddie announces, like that’s not completely obvious.

Eddie stands, not bothering to pause the movie, heading to the door, Steve watching him with vague entertainment.

He swings the door open, and the delivery boy, a very unenthusiastic looking teenage boy, tells him the total. Eddie pulls a few crumpled bills from his pocket, shoving it in the guys hand, before taking the pizza with his other. He even tipped a little. How generous.

He says thanks, then promptly slams the door shut, bounding back into the living room.

Steve grins at him as he enters.

“Finally,” He almost whispers, like his prayers had been answered. Eddie laughs, falling back onto the couch, purposefully not bothering to move any further than where he was before, keeping the comforting closeness of them.

He opens the pizza box, leaving it on his lap, and Steve reaches over, and shit, now he’s really close, like his face is close, and Eddie still gets a waft of that fucking expensive cologne, despite the warm smell of cheese and pepperoni that should be pverpowering it.

Steve takes a slice, and tilts his head up, dangling the pizza into his mouth and almost biting the whole damn slice in half.

Eddie snorts, and Steve chews, an amused glint in his eye.

“What?” He says, around a mouthful of pizza.

Eddie grins, wide and boyish.

This was good. It felt… natural. Almost too natural. It was nice. Just him and Steve. And it wasn’t awkward, not at all, and the tension in the room, which Eddies sure only he can feel, one that's built in his own mind, is warm and almost inviting. That’s a little scary. But Eddie doesn’t half mind the little flutter in his chest he gets at just Steve being here. Close enough their knees are touching. And Steve doesn’t move away.

Eddie just shakes his head, grabbing his own slice, turning back to the movie, folding it in half long ways before taking a bite, watching the characters discover a dead body.

“That’s weird.” Steve says, gesturing to the slice in Eddie’s hand.

“It’s practical.” Eddie argues, swallowing his mouthful.

“No, I think you’re just weird.” Steve states with a little smile, before taking another bite of what's left of the slice in his hand.

“So are you.” He retorts, narrowing his eyes. Steve huffs a laugh.

“Maybe.” He says simply, leaning forward to grab his soda from the coffee table.

God damn it he liked Steve Harrington.

They continued like that, half watching the movie, half chiming in with jokes or random questions Steve asks, and then seems genuinely interested as Eddie answers enthusiastically, as they eat pizza, or occasionally grabbing their sodas, or Steve grabbing Eddies for him, because the pizza on his lap keeps him from getting it himself.

Eddie had pretty much demolished his half of the pizza in under 10 minutes. Steve teased him about the fact he always eats like he’s never eaten before, and Eddie just told him to shut up.

Steve took his time, slice of pizza hovering in front of his mouth as he stares at the screen, watching camp counsellors run around and get slashed and killed on screen.

“You don’t eat the crusts?” Eddie looks down at the box in his lap as Steve tosses a pizza crust back into it.

“Nah,” Steve shrugs. “They’re like… the handles of the pizza.”

Eddie scoffs a laugh. “We don’t waste food in this house.” He grins, before grabbing one of the crusts in the box and shoving half of it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Steve just laughs softly, a glint of amusement in his eye, before turning back to the screen.

Eventually, the pizza was done, and Eddie closes the lid of the cardboard box, standing quickly. He hooks the necks of the empty soda bottles in one hand.

“You want another drink?” He asks, Stepping past Steve and towards the hall.

“Yeah, thanks.” Steve flashes him a little grin, looking up at him, and Eddie just nods, before disappearing down the hall and to the kitchen.

He tosses the cardboard and the two bottles into the trash, before throwing open the fridge door and grabbing two more sodas.

He slams the door, making the fridge shake, before slipping out and back into the living room.

For a split second, he freezes, narrowing his eyes.

Steve had thrown an arm over the back of the couch, over the back of where Eddie had been sitting a minute prior.

Whatever.

He steps closer, handing one to Steve, who takes it with his other hand.

“Thanks.” He nods.

Now, Steve had every chance to move his arm. Eddie also has every chance to sit a little further away. But why would he do that? Why would he not just… sit back down where he was before?

Eddie bends and grabs the metal bottle opener, before falling back onto the couch, tucking one leg beneath him.

Their knees were still touching, but not just that. Steve's arm was thrown over the back of the couch behind him, and their sides were almost touching, like, if Eddie just moved a few centimetres to his left, they entirely would just be pushed up against each other.

Hey, that’s not weird, right? Steve is the one who put his arm there. It was practically an open invitation for Eddie to indulge himself. Given the opportunity to sit like this? Yeah, he’s gonna take it.

Besides, Steve doesn’t seem to care. Eddie glances at his profile from where the guys’ still staring at the TV.

The idiot is smiling to himself.

Eddie’s stomach does a stupid flip. He tries to internally explain it, that Steves smiling at the movie, but a girl is currently screaming bloody murder on the screen. He doesn’t think Steve would be smiling at that.

How weird.

Eddie pops the lid off his bottle with a quiet hiss and pop, before handing the bottle opener to Steve, who balances the soda between his legs and leans over to grab it with his arm that isn’t currently almost around Eddie.

He then furrows his brow, seemingly trying to decipher how he can open this bottle one handed, before almost reluctantly moving his arm off the back of the couch, Eddie leaning a little out of the way so he can move it around and grab the neck of his bottle, opening it.

He places the bottle opener and the tin lid on the arm of the chair, before miraculously snaking his arm back into the position it was on the back of the chair.

Okay. Eddie’s heart was sorta hammering right now. It shouldn’t be. There was nothing strange about this. Just two guys… watching a movie. Just, Steve could move his arm a fraction and it would just be around Eddie's shoulder.

This is fine. Everythings fine.

Steve takes a swig of his soda, and Eddie tries not to stare at how his adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

The closeness is making Eddie feel too warm, too comfortable, like he wouldn’t half mind never moving, staying sat like this with Steve Harrington for the rest of his goddamn life.

They sat like that, quietly watching the rest of the movie, watching Mrs Vorhees get decapitated, which Steve excitedly exclaims at, giving an impressed laugh which Eddie finds painfully endearing.

As the movie comes to a close, Eddie throws himself into an enthusiastic rant.

“Most people just think of the Friday the 13th franchise of the one with the guy in the hockey mask, of Jason, but people forget that it’s actually his mom who's the killer in the first movie.” He gestures wildly with his hands. “I think that’s more badass. Undead big creeper killer guy? Yeah, sure, cool. But a vengeful murderous mother? That’s metal.”

Steve just scoffs a laugh, seeming genuinely interested. Or maybe just amused.

“So, how many of these movies are there?” He raises a brow, bringing his almost empty soda bottle to his mouth.

“Six.” Eddie says, and Steve almost chokes on his mouthful, forcing a swallow.

“Six?” Steve looks alarmed. “How did they make six? That’s like… one a year!”

Eddie just laughs.

“I mean, what are they all even about?” He furrows his brow. “Just Jason killing people?”

Eddie nods, still grinning. “Yeah, pretty much.” He twirls a strand of hair around a ringed finger. “He doesn’t even wear the hockey mask until the third movie. Oh, and they kill him off in the fourth one.”

Steve blinks at him, confused. “So, he comes back to life?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out.” Eddie nudges him in the side with his elbow, raising his brows.

“You’re gonna make me watch all six?” He sighs, attempting and failing to look irritated.

“Obviously.” Eddie grins. “Pretty sure there’s a new one coming out next year. We’ve gotta make sure you’re ready.”

Steve just scoffs a laugh.

“I think we have the next few at work,” Steve looks off into the distance, like he’s trying to remember the horror section of Family Video. “Did you wanna, uh… watch the second one soon?”

He seems almost awkward. Eddie’s a little confused. He actually is willingly going to watch the entire franchise so far with him? King Steve, asking him to hang out? Again?

He tilts his head. “Yeah, sure.” He pokes Steve in the thigh. “I don’t have any solid plans coming up, so, uh, whenevers good for you.”

“Friday?” Steve says almost too quickly, looking at Eddie with what looks like hopefulness. Something knots in Eddies stomach. Friday is, like, two days away.

“Yeah,” He says. “Fridays good.”

Steve grins then, trying to hide it by taking another swig of off brand Cola.

Eddie tilts his head at him, trying to figure him out for a second, before just smiling.

“So you liked it?” He asks, raising a brow.

Steve shrugs. “It was alright.”

“You were totally scared.” Eddie snorts.

“Was not.” Steve scoffs, arguing. Eddie just laughs harder.

“I’m surprised you didn’t piss yourself.” Eddie teases, raising his brows.

“Shut up.” Steve nudges him in the shoulder with the hand that’s on the opposite side of him, due to his arm still being scarily close to being around Eddie.

“Well, hold on to your hat, Harrington. They just get scarier from here out.” He smirks. Steve just laughs.

They talk for way longer than expected. They sit there and talk about other horror movies that Eddie gets way too passionate about, the types of movies Steve likes and Steve threatening to make Eddie watch Footloose, which Eddie groans at and buries his face in his hands. Eddie brings one knee up to his chest, hugging it with one arm and turning to face Steve a little more, and Steve has moved back a little to twist his torso to face Eddie as they talk.

Steve talks about work, about Keith, and about the leak in the staff bathroom. They talk about Robin, and about Vicki, and Steve flinches a little, something unreadable passing through his eyes, when Eddie says something about how he thinks Vicki might be gay, because Eddie’s real good at being able to tell these things. He’ll think about that more later.

At some point Steve asked where he actually got that money from, and Eddie just tapped his nose and said ‘A magician never reveals his secrets.’, and Steve just scoffed a laugh and shook his head.

Steve made a comment about how the trailer seems cleaner than it was when Steve came here before, and Eddie shrugged and said it was messy that time because Wayne was stressed after everything that had happened. Steve had leaned in and raised a brow and asked if Eddie was sure he hadn’t cleaned to impress him. Eddie just cooly grinned, asking if Steve was impressed. Steve said he was. Very.

Eventually, Steve checked his watch, and it was 9:34pm.

Steve's eyes widen a fraction, and his body stiffens. Eddie furrows his brows, now a little concerned.

“Shit. I gotta go.” Steve straightens, standing up, Eddie immediately missing the warmth of him by his side. He just gives Steve a slightly confused look.

“Everything alright, man?” He asks, tone a little soft.

Steve turns to look at him over his shoulder as he’s bent down to shove his feet in his shoes.

“Yeah, yeah. All cool.” He sighs, tying his laces with the swiftness of an olympic athlete. “My dad just wanted me home by 10.”

Eddie blinks at him. “Your dad’s in town?”

Steve slips his other shoe on, thing the lace and straightening up again. “Yeah.” He says simply.

Then, Eddie gives him an incredulous smirk. “You have a curfew?” He asks, voice thick in disbelief and slight amusement.

Steve scoffs. “Yeah, well. He’s an asshole.” He gives a half smile, before crossing the room and crouching in front of the TV, ejecting the VHS tape and slipping it back into the case.

Eddies brow knits. He bites his lip pensively. He knows Steve's parents sorta suck. From casual comments thrown out by Robin or Nancy or Steve himself. Eddie gets it. Maybe better than anyone.

He feels sorry for Steve. Part of him wants to just tell him he understands. Give him the comfort that no one thought King Steve would need.

That’s silly. He didn’t know anything about Steve's situation, really. It wasn’t like Steve had ever opened up to him.

He tucks the VHS box under his arm, crossing the room again, and Eddie stands up to walk him to the door.

“Thanks for uh… yeah.” Steve says, almost nervous. Eddie just sorta examines him for a second.

“My pleasure.” He offers a light grin, which actually makes Steve ease a little, smiling.

“See you Friday? Same time?” He asks, as Eddie opens the trailer door.

“Yeah. See you.”

Steve steps out, giving Eddie one last nod and a smile, before half jogging down the steps and walking off into the night. The trailer park was now bathed in warm oranges and pinks, but darker as night begins to settle in and the sun dips below the horizon. The first of stars are visible in the sky, and a few porch lights have started to flicker on. The evening is still humid, just beginning to cool down for the night.

Eddie sighs, closing the door, thinking it’s probably weird to watch Steve walk all the way to his car.

The trailer felt too quiet, a little too empty. The smell of Steve's cologne lingered in the living room, and Steve's empty soda bottle remained on the coffee table, a ghost of a reminder that Steve Harrington had, in fact, been here.

Later, Eddie was laying in bed, sprawled out on the springy mattress, the only light in the room being the moonlight cracking through the blinds. He wasn’t trying to sleep. There was a lit cigarette between his lips. He takes a drag before taking it between his index and middle fingers.

He’s been replaying every millisecond he spent with Steve. The way their knees touched. Steve’s arm on the back of the couch behind him, warm enough that he could feel the heat of it. The way Steve had seemed genuinely interested in Eddie’s passionate rambling, a strange fondness in his eye. How Steve had so willingly agreed to watch the rest of the movies, like he wanted an excuse to hang out with him.

It all made Eddie’s chest swell with warmth.

It was confusing. The way Steve smirked and his voice dropped when he made those weird, sort of flirty jokes. The way he teased Eddie in a way that was fond, not making fun of him at all.

Outside the arcade the other day. How Steve put his hand over his when he lit his cigarette. The play fighting. That comment Steve made and barely even played off. The way he had mainly spent time with Eddie that day, barely making conversation with Dustin or the others. The way he had dragged Eddie over to that Street Fighter machine and made that weird comment about being very impressed.

How Steve had spoken to him when he popped into Family Video that day.

Banter, right?

Just… banter.

Eddie’s brow knits as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

He replays it all again in his head, this time dissecting every interaction, every comment, every small look, every touch.

He shoots up, sitting up so fast it makes his head spin.

Was Steve Harrington… flirting with him?

Chapter Text

Eddie drums his fingers on the side of the pay phone at the edge of the lot in the trailer park, antsy as the phone rings. His rings clink against the metal rhythmically, as he taps his foot impatiently.

It was Thursday morning, the slight chill of the night still lingering, Eddie’s leather jacket protecting him from it.

“Come on, Buckley.” He mutters to himself in anticipation as the phone continues ringing.

He was calling Robin. He had barely slept all night, spiralling further into delusion, over analysing every interaction, convincing himself that Steve Harrington was, in fact, flirting with him.

He had really deliberated his decision on calling Robin. Unfortunately, the only person in the world who he could discuss this issue with, one who knew he was gay, one who knew him, and Steve, was in fact Steve Harrington's best friend.

“Hello?” A tired voice picks up the phone.

“Hi, Mrs Buckley? It’s Eddie.” He tries to say casually as possible, not portraying the nerves in his voice. “Is Robin there?”

“Oh, hi Eddie.” She says, voice cracking through the phone, her tone becoming sweeter. “Yes, she’s upstairs. Is everything alright?”

“Yep, yeah.” He nods, even though she can’t see it. “Everything's good. Just need to… speak to her.”

“Alright, darlin’.” She says. “ROBIN, PHONE!” She yells into the house.

Eddie glances around the quiet trailer park, save for the older guy who lives a few doors down getting into his truck to leave for work.

“Who is it?” He hears Robin ask her mom in the distance.

“Eddie.” Mrs Buckley replies, voice quieter now as she hands the phone to her daughter.

“Munson?” Robin asks, voice now loud and clear as she presses the phone to her ear.

“Yeah, hi.” Eddie says quickly.

“Everything okay?” She asks, a little nervously.

“Yeah, everythings fine. Everythings… just peachy, Buckley.” The slight tension in his voice betrays him. “Look. I need to talk to you. Like, urgently.”

He hears Robin sigh down the phone.

“How urgently?” She asks.

“Well, it’s not like an emergency, but, y’know, if I don’t get this off my chest I might lose my mind.” He hisses into the phone.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Look, I-“ He smacks the side of the pay phone. “It’s something only you would get, okay? It’s not a big deal, but also, like, I am a few hours away from drowning myself in the lake.”

Robin snorts. “Alright, dude. Um, do you want me to come round there or you come here?”

“I’ll come to you. What time’s good?” He hopes she says soon. Please say soon.

“About an hour? But i’m going out later, around 2, so you better not talk for that long.” She says dryly.

“Yeah, alright. That's perfect. Thank you.”

Robin laughs again. “Okay, weirdo, you’re freaking me out.”

“I’ll see you in an hour.” He says finally, before slamming the phone down and rushing to his trailer.

He rushes to his room, getting changed as fast as possible, trying to work out how long it would take him to walk to Robins place.

About an hour later, Eddie stands outside the Buckley household, rocking back and forth on his heels after ringing the bell. A few seconds pass, and he impatiently rings the bell again.

The door swings open, and Robin stands there wearing a striped, worn button up shirt, that's tucked into her jeans, a brown belt threaded through the belt loops, and an annoyed expression.

“Jesus, idiot, impatient much?” She sighs, as Eddie steps forward, barging forward.

“What’s your deal?” She asks, and Eddie just heads towards the stairs.

“You’ll find out.” He leans back, one hand gripping the handrail of the stairs. He’d thrown on his Dio shirt and his denim battlejacket, too hot for the leather jacket beneath it. He didn’t mind the scars on his forearm just visible beneath the short sleeve of his tee. It was just Robin. And the matters were too pressing to care about any of that.

Robin just rolls her eyes, following Eddie upstairs as he lets himself into her room, before sitting on the edge of her bed, burying his head in his hands, dark curls falling over his shoulders.

She closes the door behind them, before climbing onto the bed herself, tucking her legs beneath her and leaning back against the wall.

“So?” She gestures as he turns to look at her. “What’s got you all freaked out?” She prompts impatiently.

Eddie sighs, long and exasperated.

“There’s a guy.” He says. He is deciding to get Robin's unbiased opinion.

Robin raises a brow, eyes narrowing a little. She doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“Okay?”

“There’s a guy,” Eddie repeats. “And I thought he was straight.”

“Right.” Robin nods, understanding.

“But, I dunno… I’ve been seeing more of him recently, and he’s been… weird, right?” He rambles, throwing his hands out as he speaks. “I thought it was just… I don’t know- him being friendly? But I… maybe I’m overthinking shit, but I feel like he’s flirting with me.”

He pauses for a second, staring at Robin expectantly, who just makes a long exhale.

“Why? What’s this ‘guy’ been doing?” She asks, slowly getting invested into this.

Eddie blinks, thinking for a second, scrambling his brain for all the things that Steve had done that were a little suspicious.

“So, he… he’s just been being really nice. Like suspiciously nice. Paying for my shit. Giving me rides. Like, i’m starting to feel like his little girlfriend or some shit-“ He emphasises his words, while being careful about what he chooses to say, not wanting to make it obvious. “And, like, I dunno, he keeps making these comments, and I sorta thought they were jokes, but I- he’s not laughing. He just gives me this weird look.” He knigs his brow, confused at the thought of it.

“Comments like what?” Robin asks, leaning forward, elbows on her knees like she’s intrigued now.

“Like…” Eddie thinks. “He called me hot the other day, but it was like, vague and weird. And… I don’t know… it’s just like teasing, sorta thing. Like the other day, I was doing something, and he all… leaned in a smirked and said he was ‘Impressed’ or whatever. I thought he was joking.”

Robin raises a brow and nods slowly.

“But it’s shit like… he keeps purposely going out of his way to… hang out with me. He didn’t do that before. I didn’t really think much of it, I don’t know, maybe he’s being friendly. And, when we were hanging out the other day, he put his arm round the back of the couch, like it was almost around me, Buckley. I swear, our knees were touching, and he didn’t move away.” He knows he’s rambling, words spilling out his mouth like a waterfall.

He looks at Robin, a slow grin spreading across her face. Her eyes shine with amusement.

“What?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“I think he might be flirting with you.” She says, but there's underlying entertainment in her voice.

Eddie shakes his head. “See? That’s what I thought! But this guy, he’s like… textbook straight.”

“Yeah?” Robin tilts her head, biting her lip to stifle a laugh. Eddie crosses his arms.

“Yeah, Buckley. He wants to get married. Have children. Proper American Dream type life.” He slows down, something heavy now settling in his chest. “He can’t do that with another guy.” He finishes, and Robins smile falters. “He can’t do that with me.” He adds quietly.

Robin frowns now, and picks at her sock, staring down at it.

It’s quiet for a moment, the weight of what Eddie said settling over them.

“Look,” She starts, voice quiet, almost soft. “I… I think he might be flirting with you.”

Eddie scoffs. “You’re just feeding into my delusions now.”

Robin gives him this weird, hesitant look. Shes quiet again for a moment.

“I think I know who you’re talking about.” She says carefully.

Eddie freezes up. Every muscle in his body tenses, like a deer in headlights. Shit. He’d made it too obvious. But… but Robin had just said she thinks he’s flirting? Why would she say that if she knew they were talking about Steve? His mind was whirring with a million thoughts in one second, an awful crash of dread and hope falling over him.

Robin doesn’t wait for him to speak again.

“I don’t know… I think- I think he’s… confused, maybe.” Eddie’s heart drops. “But… I don’t think he’s what you think he is.” Eddie’s heart rises back up, all the way to his throat.

“What do you mean?” Is all he manages to force out. She looks at him, cautious and raw.

“He doesn’t know what he wants.” She says softly. “But I think all he wants is to be loved.”

Oh.

Eddie’s brain skirts to a halt at that moment.

Robin has pretty much confirmed every delusion he’s ever had. Holy shit.

Robin had also just told him the saddest thing ever about Steve Harrington and now Eddie just wants to scoop him up and kiss him on the forehead and sappy, sentimental things he’s never really thought about doing before.

His stomach flutters so hard he thinks he might throw up.

This is real. This is way too real. Nothing, currently, felt real.

“Oh.” He says quietly. Robin huffs a sort of sad laugh.

“So,” She starts, tracing the bracelet around her wrist. “Do you like him?”

Eddie blinks at her, brain kicking back into action. “What?” He half chokes out. “I mean, I don’t know.” He shrugs. Robin's grin widens. “Is… does he like me?”

Robin laughs again, softly and to herself. She shrugs as well. “I don’t know.”

Right.

Eddie sighs, nodding.

“Well, this has been very enlightening.” He says. Robin raises an amused brow.

“Yeah?”

Eddie falls back, laying down on the bed.

“Somewhat. Not entirely.”

Robin laughs again. “It’s been very enlightening for me, too.”

Eddie glares at her, grabbing a nearby teddy bear and tossing it at her, full pelt.

“This conversation never happened.” He warns, expression deadpan and serious. Robin just grins at him.

“Of course it didn’t. I would quite like to keep my life, actually.” She says, only half joking.

Eddie can’t fully tell if she means him or Steve would kill her. Maybe both.

Anyway, he thought it would probably be safest if he left it there. Mostly because Robin had figured it out a lot quicker than he anticipated, but that had also been somewhat helpful, so he can’t complain. He doesn’t think she’ll tell Steve, but it's not like he said anything incriminating, right?

It wasn’t like he’d confessed his undying love for Steve. He didn’t even say if he was into him. But Robin didn’t say Steve was into him, either.

She didn’t actually confirm a lot. She’d given him enough to think about, though. About the fact that Steve Harrington, Prom King of Hawkins high, is apparently into guys.

And there’s a slight chance that he might be into Eddie.

His entire fucking world had just turned on its axis.

“Earth to Eddie?” Robin calls, nudging him in the side with her foot.

“Huh? Oh, yeah?” Eddie blinks at her.

Robin laughs. “Everything alright, man?”

“Oh, totally fine.” He grins at her as convincingly as possible. “Dandy, even.”

Robin raises a brow, and she looks like she’s going to say something else, but Eddie cuts her off.

“So how was hanging out with Vicky the other day?”

Robin’s eyes widened, and then it was like a dam had broken. “Okay, so first of all,” she began, flopping back so she was mirroring his starfish position, her head tilted toward him, “I thought it was gonna be super casual, right? Like, we were just gonna go get coffee, nothing big. But she shows up wearing that stupid yellow sweater, you know the one with the buttons and the sleeves that are like, way too long?”

Eddie grinned. “I know the one.”

“And she had her make up all done, all pretty and stuff,” Robin continued, making wild gestures with her hands. “And she kept doing that thing where she tucks her hair behind her ear while she’s talking, like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it!”

“Scandalous,” Eddie teased, eyes twinkling, internally grateful that his distraction technique had been successful.

“Shut up,” Robin shot back, swatting at his arm. “But, seriously! She was like… extra smiley. At one point, she laughed at my joke, and it wasn’t even funny! It was like… an anti-joke. I said something dumb about how decaf coffee is a crime, and she giggled. Like, full-on giggled.”

Eddie raised his brows. “Oh, she giggled?”

“Yes! She did that little thing where she scrunches her nose, and I swear to god, Munson, I almost died on the spot.” Robin let out a dramatic sigh, throwing her arm over her face. “And then we were talking about any plans we had for the rest of summer, and she was like ‘oh, i’m pretty free.’ and she looked at me. Like… she looked at me.”

“She looked at you?” Eddie gasped, playing along, hand clutching at his chest.

“Don’t mock me!” she shrieked, but she was grinning too. “I’m serious! I just… I don’t know. I can’t tell if she’s just being nice or… y’know…”

“Yeah, I hear that.” Eddie sighs, giving her a knowing smile.

“God, being us is so complicated, isn’t it?” She scoffs, gesturing out like she’s mad at the world.

“Sure is, Buck-o.”

They laid there talking for a while, a nice catch up, seeing as they’d both been pretty wrapped up in their own lives, or love lives (or the tragic yearning they both experience) to properly catch up.

They talked about Steve, not in the weird, vague way when neither of them dared to say his name in case it became too real, but just as a friend, poking fun at him and teasing him, neither of them mentioning whatever weird thing him and Eddie apparently had going on now.

They talked about movies, and Robin talked about work, and Eddie pretends it’s the first time he’s hearing about the leak in the staff toilet. Eddie talks about how hard it is to find a job. That leads to a passionate debate about where they would move if they could move out of Hawkins and go anywhere. Eddie expresses his distaste for Hawkins, and Robin sarcastically lists off all of it’s redeeming qualities, like Sammy’s, or the junkyard, or the parallel universe they all almost died in.

Eventually, the clock ticks past midday, and Robin pushes herself up, straightening up her shirt.

“I gotta go soon,” She announces, plopping herself down on her desk chair and grabbing a tube of mascara.

“Where’re you going?” Eddie asks, sitting up to watch her curiously.

“Me and Steve are going to the mall cus I need to get a ‘nice shirt’ for my uncles birthday dinner.” She says before opening her mouth because it makes it easier to put mascara on, apparently.

“Wait, Steve?” Eddie narrows his eyes, alarmed.

“Hey, chill out, I’m not gonna say anything, I promise.” She says, dipping the mascara wand back into the tube.

“I preferred it when we were being vague and not using names.” Eddie grumbles, flopping back down onto his back as Robin applies the mascara ro her other eye.

“Wait, you were talking about Steve?” She mocks shock.

“Shut up.” He bites out, but she just laughs. “For the record,” He starts again, pointing a finger up. “I am not, like into him, or whatever.” He emphasises the ‘not’ like the idea disgusts him. He doesn't even sound believable. He doesn't care if Robin knows his feelings, per se, he just... is thinking of her as an extension of Steve. They may as well share one braincell anyway. But he's ensuring that Robin has absolutely nothing to go off, if she feels like going and blabbering to Steve. Not that he thinks she would. But Eddie would much rather do it his way, rather than have Robin Buckley be a catalyst, and, potentially, blow everything up. Slow and steady wins the race. And Eddie prefers to have a little more control over the whole thing.

“Yeah?” Robin grins, unconvinced. “Want me to tell him that?”

“No.” Eddie says too quickly, before sitting up again. “I mean, juries still out, you know?” He shrugs. “He could win me over.” He says like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

Like he wasn’t actively spiralling deeper in the worlds most debilitating crush every day.

Robin gives him a thoughtful look, like she believes him.

“Fair.” She says, returning the wand back into the tube before reaching for a chapstick. “Honestly, just go with the flow.” She applies it to her bottom lip, staring in the mirror on her desk and not at Eddie. “I know a lot less than you think I do. Seriously, the guys an enigma.” She presses her lips together, making a popping sound.

Eddie laughs. “Fair enough.”

She chucks the chapstick back on her desk, before fluffing her hair up in the mirror. “I don’t think he knows what he’s doing half the time.”

Eddie grins, tilting his head. “Yeah, well, neither do I.”

Robin turns her head, giving him a little smirk before standing, going to grab her boots that were chucked on the floor in front of her closet.

She grabs her boots in one hand, before straightening up.

“Alright loser, i’m kicking you out.” She gestures for him ro stand up.

He laughs, and Robin ushers him out the room and down the stairs. They say their farewells in the doorway, and Robin waves him off like he’s going to war.

Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks away, hearing Robins front door click shut in the distance behind him.

Well. That was certainly enlightening.

The nervous energy in his body had died down, now replaced with a warm buzz of excitement.

What he had gathered from that conversation is that he had a chance with Steve Harrington.

Is it just him or does the world seem brighter? Are the birds tweeting more cheerfully? He feels like skipping all the way home.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Just before 2pm, Steve Harrington pulls up outside the Buckley household. He honks the horn once, and within a minute the door is flung open, and Robin rushes out, a satchel-style bag slung over her shoulder. He waves at her, and she gives him a little half wave back as she approaches the car.

She throws open the door and flops down in the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her and throwing her bag down by her feet before buckling her seatbelt.

“Hey,” She says, smiling at him.

“Hi.”

The ride to the mall was filled with the crackle of static from Steve’s old car radio and Robin drumming her fingers on the dashboard to the beat of whatever song was playing. Steve was one hand on the wheel, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, the other resting lazily on his thigh.

"So, what exactly is this birthday dinner?" Steve asked, glancing over at her.

Robin huffed. "It’s for my uncle Gary. He’s turning fifty, which, apparently, is a big deal. My mom’s already called me three times about wearing something ‘appropriate.’" She mimed air quotes with both hands.

Steve snorted. "Appropriate? Do they not know you at all?"

"Right? I told her I’d just wear one of my button ups and a blazer, and she nearly had an aneurysm."

Steve grinned, shifting in his seat as they hit a stoplight. "You could just go shirtless and paint ‘Happy Birthday, Gary’ across your chest."

Robin gave him a look. "Steve, I’m trying to avoid getting disowned here."

"Good point," he said, tapping the steering wheel thoughtfully. "So, like… a nice shirt it is, then."

She sighed, letting her head fall back against the headrest. "Yup. The nicest shirt a measly Family Video paycheck can buy."

They pulled into the mall parking lot, and Steve swung into a spot surprisingly close to the entrance. Robin eyed it suspiciously.

"Did you sell your soul for this parking spot?"

Steve grinned. "Nah, just had good timing."

They hopped out of the car, and Robin stuffed her hands into her jean pockets as they made their way inside. The mall was its usual hustle and bustle, groups of teens clustered by the fountain, the smell of pretzels and popcorn wafting through the air.

"Alright, mission ‘Robin Doesn’t Look Like a Total Disaster at Her Uncle’s Birthday’ is a go," Steve announced, clapping his hands once.

Robin rolled her eyes. "Your enthusiasm is both reassuring and terrifying."

They wandered into the first store, a generic department store with racks of clothes crammed together. Steve sifted through some button-ups, holding up a particularly garish red one.

"Too much?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Robin scoffed. "I’d rather not look like a walking ketchup bottle."

"Fair," he admitted, putting it back.

They shuffled around the store for a bit, Robin giving commentary on the ugly ties and weirdly patterned vests. Eventually, they moved on, making their way into a smaller, trendier store. Steve gravitated towards the mannequins dressed in what he deemed "cool but classy" attire.

Robin was already halfway through a rack of shirts when Steve came over, holding up a dark green one with short sleeves and a bit of a floral pattern.

"Hear me out," Steve said. "You in this? It’s kind of… nice, but not like, trying too hard."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "It’s floral."

"Yeah, but like… subtle floral. You’d look cool. Distinguished."

She squinted at it like it was going to sprout legs and run away. "Fine. I’ll try it."

Steve gave her a triumphant little smile. "Knew you’d see reason."

As they headed to the dressing room, Robin couldn’t help but glance back at him. "You’re really invested in this, huh?"

Steve shrugged. "You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna let you look like a total disaster."

Robin gave him a look of mock gratitude. "Your loyalty is truly heartwarming, Harrington."

"Anytime, Buckley."

When Robin disappeared into the dressing room, Steve leaned against a display rack, idly thumbing through his wallet. A minute later, Robin popped her head out.

"So?" she asked, doing a little spin.

Steve looked her up and down, then gave a thumbs up. "Hell yeah. You look great. It’s like… dressy, but still you."

Robin glanced at herself in the mirror, her expression softening. "Maybe it’s not so bad…"

Steve nudged her shoulder when she came back out. "Told you. Now we just gotta grab some lunch after this, and I’m officially deeming this a successful trip."

Robin shook her head, but she was smiling. "You’re ridiculous."

"Yeah, well. You love it."

"Debatable," she muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

They made their way to the checkout, and Steve tried to subtly toss his own cash onto the counter before Robin could dig hers out. She smacked his arm, but he just grinned.

"Let me do something nice for you for once," he argued.

Robin groaned but eventually gave in. "Fine. But I’m paying for lunch."

"Deal," Steve agreed, swinging an arm around her shoulders as they headed out into the mall, Robin shaking her head but not pulling away.

“You know,” She says, dipping her voice and leaning in so only Steve could hear. “I should’ve known about your… deviating sexuality before. You’re surprisingly good at shopping for womens clothes.”

Steve un-snakes his arm from around her shoulders to give her a hard shove. “Shut up.” He hisses. Robin just laughs, throwing her head back.

They went up to the food court, deciding on getting toasted sandwiches and fries to share, Robin handing cash to the cashier, before they take their food and their refillable soda cups and go to sit down at a spare table.

“So,” Robin starts, chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of bread and cheese. “You gonna tell me about your movie date?”

He throws a fry at her.

“It wasn’t a date.” He scowled. “It was just, casual hang out.”

“Sure.” Robin smirks, some sort of amusement in her expression like she's in on some joke that Steve isn’t.

“But it was good, yeah.” He leans his head on one hand, while the other swirls ketchup around with a fry. “I mean, the movie was crap, but it’s sorta sweet when he gets all excited about it. He has a way of making things seem interesting.” He shoves the fry in his mouth.

Robin raises a brow. “Yeah?”

“Mh,” Steve continues, poking at his sandwich. “I’m pretty sure he went out dealing in the day just to have money to order pizza.” He thinks, involuntarily smiling to himself at the thought.

“How romantic.” Robin says dryly, taking another bite.

“It’s thoughtful.” Steve argues with conviction. “I still can’t tell what his deal is, though.” He sighs, taking another bite as well.

“No?” Robin grins, like she’s finding this incredibly entertaining.

“I mean, I’m really trying, Rob. I feel like I'm being incredibly obvious. And, it’s shit like, we were sat so close, I swear, I had my arm basically around him, but I can’t tell if that’s just… Eddie. You know?” He takes another bite, but just continues to talk around his mouthful. “This is the guy who kisses his friends on the cheek. The guy who kissed me at a party just for total fun.”

Robin shrugs. “Yeah, well, pretty sure he only does that drunk. And, I think he’s probably noticed, Steve.” She says dryly, shoving three fries in her mouth at the same time.

“You think?” He slurps on his soda, swallowing dramatically. “You think he’s into me?”

Robin glares at him. “I don’t know, Steve. I’m not watching you through hidden cameras.”

Steve just sighs, disappointed.

“We’re gonna watch the rest of the movies, though.” He continues, waggling the straw around in his drink. “Apparently there’s six. So i’ve secured, like, six more hang outs.” He looks at her, completely innocently, like hes expecting her to celebrate or something. She just scoffs at him.

“Awesome, maybe next time you’ll cuddle while watching Jason decapitate camp counsellors.” She says dryly, smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“If i’m lucky,” Steve tilts his head, grinning, before shoving more sandwich in his mouth. “You can’t talk, though. Your Vicky dilemma is no better.”

“My dilemma,” Robin narrows her eyes, leaning in. “Is that I don’t know if she swings for my team. At least you’ve got confirmation on that part.” She hisses, and Steve just laughs.

It doesn’t even cross his mind that that could be a potential dilemma for Eddie in regards to what team Steve plays for.

“Your problem is just figuring out if he’s stupid enough to like YOU.” She grins, and Steve kicks her under the table.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, jackass.” Steve frowns, and Robin just giggles.

“Hey, if it helps, he is the guy who got kept back like two years in high school. He seems pretty stupid to me.” She tilts her head, her tone a little softer like that’s supposed to be comforting. It sort of is.

God, Steve really fucking hopes that Eddie likes him.

Chapter Text

Eddie woke up with the sun burning right through his eyelids, stabbing into his skull like tiny shards of glass. He groaned, turning over and burying his face in the pillow, which still smelled faintly of smoke. His mouth tasted like something had crawled in there and died, and when he cracked his eyes open, the first thing he saw was the half-empty ashtray on his nightstand, crammed with cigarette butts and the remnants of last night’s blunt.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt like shit, but it was the good kind of shit, the kind that came after a night of celebrating something monumental. Or, at the very least, something potentially monumental.

Steve Harrington liked guys. Or, Robin vaguely hinted at the possibility of it. And, apparently, he was flirting with him. Him. Eddie Munson.

Eddie rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t shake the memory of Steve’s little smirks, the hand that lingered just a second too long on his shoulder, the way he’d leaned into Eddie’s space like it was his right to be there. He hadn’t been overthinking it. Reading into what was just casual banter. No, this was real.

He ran a hand through his hair, wild and frizzy from sleep, and let out a long, shaky breath. He didn’t really have anything to do today; it was already creeping past midday, the clock blinking with the wrong time because he’d unplugged it again by accident.

He could sit around, maybe put on some music, smoke a little more, just kill time until Steve got off work. They were hanging out tonight, and Eddie was not going to be the guy that showed up late or unprepared.

But first, coffee. And maybe some toast, if he could stomach it.

Eddie pulled himself out of bed, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a ragged old Metallica shirt, and shuffled out into the kitchen. Wayne had already gone off to work, his coffee mug still sitting in the sink with a little ring of black liquid at the bottom. Eddie rinsed it out, threw a pot on, and leaned against the counter while it brewed.

He was just about to pour himself a cup when someone started pounding on his front door. Like, really pounding.

He blinks, pausing with the coffee pot hovering over the mug. “What the hell…”

The knocking didn’t stop. It only got louder.

“Alright! I’m coming, Jesus!” Eddie shouts, setting the pot back on the burner and stumbling his way to the door. He unlocked it and yanked it open, expecting maybe one of his customers looking for a wake-and-bake or some Jehovah's Witness on a mission to save his damned soul.

Instead, he was met with Max Mayfield, red hair plaited, and a scowl on her face that looked permanently etched there.

“Jesus, Red. Ever heard of knocking like a normal person?” Eddie asks, blinking against the sunlight pouring in behind her.

“That was knocking,” she shoots back, hands on her hips. “If you’d answered the first five times, I wouldn’t have to go full demolition on your door.”

Eddie snorts, leaning against the doorframe. “Alright, what’s the emergency? Someone beat your high score at Dig Dug or something?”

Max rolls her eyes. “Get dressed. We’re going.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Going? Going where?”

“Dustin’s,” she says like it was obvious. “There’s a crisis.”

Eddie groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “Isn’t there always a crisis with Henderson?”

Max didn’t even crack a smile. “This one’s different. Now get your ass in gear.”

Eddie stares at her for a moment before sighing. He wasn’t about to say no to Max Mayfield, not when she was in a mood like this. Besides, if there was chaos, he kinda wanted to be there to see it.

“Fine, fine. Come in or whatever. I’m gonna get changed,” he grumbles, stepping back and gesturing for her to come inside.

Max steps past him, taking one look around his trailer and raising an eyebrow. “You clean?”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

“The place. It’s not…a total disaster.”

Eddie snorts, heading back toward his room. “Yeah, well. Had company the other night. Figured I’d try and make it look less like a troll lives here.”

Max just hums, folding her arms and waiting. Eddie disappears into his room, yanking a clean pair of jeans from the drawer and pulling on his vest. He gave his hair a quick half-assed brush, and then grabbed his keys off the dresser.

When he came back out, Max gave him an approving nod. “Alright, Munson. Let’s go.”

Eddie locks the door behind them, shoving his keys into his back pocket as they made their way to her trailer.

Max spins around, chucking him some other keys. He catches them, before peering at them, confused.

Max had started walking towards the car parked outside Max’s trailer.

“Hey, I’m not driving your moms car.” He argues, catching up with her.

“It’s not my moms.” She rolls her eyes at him. “It’s Billy’s. And he doesn’t exactly use it anymore.”

Eddie blinks at her for a second, and she just stares at him, arms folded, standing by the passenger side door with a look that could incinerate him on the spot. Eddie doesn’t entirely know whether or not you're supposed to laugh when someone makes a joke about their dead brother, especially not when it’s someone like Max.

“Well?” She prompts, impatient. “Unless you want me to drive?”

“No, no. I’d rather not die today.” He mutters, unlocking the car and slipping into the driver's seat.

He takes a second to inspect the car, figuring out the new vehicle as Max slips into the passenger seat. He turns the ignition.

“Seatbelt.” He says plainly. Max furrows her brow at him.

“Really?” She almost laughs out of absurdity.

“Yes, really. What’d Steve say?” He mumbles as he puts his own seatbelt on.

Max dramatically looks around. “I don’t see him here.”

Eddie grins. “He’s always here.” He puts a hand to his heart theatrically, and Max scowls.

Reluctantly, she clicks on her seatbelt, and Eddie pulls out the lot of the trailer park. “He’s not dead.” She grumbles to herself, a small smile of amusement on her face.

Eddie pulls up outside the Henderson residence, and Max is out the car and halfway down the path before Eddie’s even fully parked. He jumps out, slamming the door behind him, before jogging to catch up with her.

“You gonna tell me what this crisis is?” He asks, glancing around for any sign that some doorway to the upside down hasn’t opened up in Dustin Henderson’s front yard.

Max snorts. “It’s funnier if you just see for yourself.”

Max then hammers on the door like she’s the FBI.

Eddie smirks, rocking back on his heels as they waited. It only took a few seconds before the door swung open, revealing Dustin with his hat backward and a look of pure, unfiltered panic stretched across his face.

“Oh good, you’re here!” Dustin exclaims, grabbing Max by the arm and practically yanking her inside. Eddie followed, shutting the door behind him.

“What’s the crisis, Henderson?” Eddie asks, hands stuffed into his pockets as he looked around the living room. Mike was perched on the arm of the couch, Lucas was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and Will was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, looking a little bewildered but mostly concerned.

“The crisis,” Dustin says, voice shrill with frustration, “is that Tubs is gone!”

Eddie blinks, glancing at Max, who just shrugged. “Tubs?” he repeats, eyebrows raised.

“My cat!” Dustin exclaims, flailing his hands. “My mom got him a couple of weeks ago. He’s huge and orange and really fat. Like, seriously, the name is not ironic.”

Eddie snorts. “Wait, hold up. You got another cat?”

Dustin's expression faltered for just a second. “Yeah, well...after Mews went… missing, Mom...she thought it’d help.” He squares his shoulders. “But that’s not important right now. What’s important is that Tubs is missing and we need to find him before Mom gets back from work.”

Eddie let out a low whistle, crossing his arms. “You lose two cats, Henderson, your mom’s gonna start thinking you’ve got some sort of anti-feline curse.”

Dustin’s eyes go wide with horror. “Don’t say that!”

Mike finally piped up from his spot on the couch arm. “We’ve already looked in the house, the backyard, the front yard...we even checked the neighbor's porch, and he’s not there.”

Lucas nods. “Cat’s vanished. It’s like he got beamed up by aliens or something.”

Will bites his lip, glancing over at Eddie. “You think he could’ve, like...wandered off? Sometimes cats do that, right?”

“Not Tubs,” Dustin shoots back. “He’s too lazy to wander off. He barely leaves the kitchen unless it’s to find a sunny spot to sleep.”

Eddie rubs the back of his neck, glancing around the living room like maybe the cat would just appear out of nowhere. “Alright, so what? We gonna go on a little rescue mission? Hunt for Tubs the Terrible?”

Dustin’s face lit up with a glimmer of hope. “You’ll help?”

Eddie rolls his eyes but can’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Henderson, I’m already here, aren’t I?”

Dustin pumps his fist, turning to the others. “Okay! Lucas, Mike, you guys take the front of the neighborhood. Will, Max, you check the backyard and the woods behind Mrs. Donnelly’s place. Eddie and I will go around the other side.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “And what’s the plan when we find him?”

Dustin pauses, considering. “I dunno. Catch him?”

They all shuffle out of the house, a mess of voices and sneakers hitting the pavement. Eddie follows Dustin, hands still stuffed in his pockets as they round the corner and started their search.

“Didn’t know you were such a cat person, Henderson,” Eddie teases, glancing down at him.

Dustin just shrugs, determination etched into his face. “You’d understand if you met Tubs. He’s like...the best. And Mom’ll kill me if I lose another one.”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, let’s find your fat-ass cat.”

They trudge down Maple Street, voices bouncing off parked cars and hedges as they called out for the runaway cat. Eddie has a cigarette dangling from his lips, squinting through the smoke as he scanned the area.

“Tubs!” Dustin hollers, hands cupped around his mouth. “Here, kitty, kitty! Come on, fat boy!”

Eddie snorts, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. “You really think he’s gonna come waddling over if you call him fat?”

Dustin shoots him a glare. “He doesn’t know what it means.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “I dunno, man. Cats are pretty judgmental. I’m pretty sure he knows.”

Dustin ignores him, continuing to call out as they moved down the sidewalk, peering under parked cars and shaking bushes. Eddie leans down and rapped his knuckles against the wheel well of a Chevy parked by the curb.

“You under there, Tubby?” he called, voice low and coaxing. Nothing. He stands again, glancing at Dustin. “Maybe he got kidnapped.”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Who the hell is gonna kidnap a fat orange cat?”

Eddie shrugs, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “I dunno, maybe someone with a weird Garfield obsession?”

Dustin groans, kicking at a stray rock. “You’re not helping.”

Eddie grins around his cigarette. “I’m plenty helpful. I’m moral support.”

“You’re moral something,” Dustin shoots back. He cupped his hands around his mouth again. “Tubs! Get your chunky butt out here!”

They turn down another block, cutting through the small park where the kids sometimes rode their bikes. It was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic. Eddie flicks his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his heel.

“Hey, you checked that playground yet?” Eddie asks, pointing towards the set of swings and monkey bars at the edge of the park.

Dustin frowns. “He wouldn’t go there…would he?”

Eddie shrugs. “Cats go wherever the hell they want. Why not a playground?”

Without waiting for a response, Eddie strolls towards it, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. Dustin hurries to catch up, sneakers slapping against the concrete. They check under the slide, around the swings, and even in the little wooden playhouse that had probably been there since the ‘60s.

Eddie leans down, peering into the shadows beneath the playhouse. “Well, well, well…guess who I found?”

Dustin’s eyes went wide. “You found him?!”

“Nope.” Eddie straightens up, hands on his hips. “But I did find a very pissed-off raccoon.”

Dustin recoils as Eddie jerked his thumb back towards the gap under the wooden planks, where two glowing eyes stared back at them, unblinking.

“Jesus!” Dustin yelps, stumbling back. “That’s not a cat, Eddie!”

Eddie cackles, slapping him on the back. “Nah, it’s not. But you should’ve seen your face.”
Dustin glared. “You’re awful.”

“Aw, come on, Henderson,” Eddie says, still chuckling. “We’ll find your cat. He’s probably just...I dunno. Taking a nap somewhere. Or bullying the neighborhood squirrels.”

Dustin sighs, but there was still a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Yeah...maybe.”

Eddie slings an arm around his shoulders, steering him back towards the sidewalk. “Come on. Let’s check down Elm. If we don’t find him, I’ll bribe some of the neighborhood kids to join the search party.”

“You think they’ll do it?”

Eddie smirks. “For ten bucks? Hell yeah.”

Dustin snorted, shaking his head.

They continue down the street, voices ringing out through the quiet neighborhood.

“Tubs!”

“Here, kitty, kitty!”

“If you come out, I swear to God I won’t call you fat anymore!”

A pause.

“Well…not as much, anyway!”

Nothing. Just the distant sound of a lawnmower a few blocks away and the gentle rustle of wind through the trees.

They must’ve circled the entire block twice by now, with absolutely zero sign of one fat, fluffy orange cat. Eddie was starting to suspect Tubs had somehow orchestrated his own disappearance just to mess with them.

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” Eddie groans, rubbing the back of his neck as they met up with Lucas and Max on the corner of Sycamore. They’d both shown up about twenty minutes ago, Max with her skateboard tucked under one arm, Lucas with a slingshot dangling from his back pocket like they were about to take down Goliath.

“You guys find anything?” Dustin asks, looking almost desperate.

Max shook her head, squinting up at the sun. “Nah, but I did almost get run over by a Buick, so that’s something.”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “You weren’t even close.”

“I could feel the wind, Sinclair.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Children,” Eddie interrupts, waving his hands. “Focus. We’ve got a Garfield lookalike on the loose and not a lot of time to find him.”

Max raises a brow, glancing at him. “What’s the rush? It’s just a cat.”

Eddie hesitates, glancing at his watch. 3:39 p.m. He still had time. Technically. “I’ve just got somewhere to be later.”

Dustin perks up, grinning. “Somewhere to be? Like…a date?”

Eddie snorts, shoving him lightly. “I should be so lucky.” He flicked his lighter open, closed, open, closed. “Just plans. With a friend.”

Lucas crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “Does this friend have a name?”

“Nope.” Eddie popped the ‘p’ with a grin. “They are now simply known as My Mysterious Acquaintance.”

Max rolled her eyes. “You’re weird.”

“Thank you.”

The conversation lulls as they move down another street, calling out for Tubs. Dustin was practically chanting the cat’s name now, his voice hoarse from yelling. Lucas tried to whistle, which fails miserably. Max tried shaking a can of food she’d snagged from Dustin’s kitchen, but nothing.

They were getting desperate.

“Maybe he’s dead,” Max suggests bluntly.

Dustin looks horrified. “Don’t even say that!”

“Well, I mean, we’ve been out here for like, two hours, and we haven’t even seen a paw print.”

Eddie holds up a hand. “Nah, I’m with Henderson. Tubs isn’t dead.” He squinted at the nearest bush like he could will the cat into existence. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that chonky bastard's practically invincible. He’ll outlive us all, just to spite us.”

Dustin sighs, kicking a stray rock down the sidewalk. “He better be. My mom’s gonna lose her mind if I come home without him.”

They’d been trudging along for what felt like ages, voices hoarse from calling, heads craning around every bush, fence, and garbage can. The sun was starting to dip just slightly, painting the cracked sidewalks in long shadows. Eddie was glancing at his watch again, about to groan in frustration when-

“Shh!” Max holds up her hand, squinting.

Dustin looks around, confused. “What?”

“Did you hear that?” she asks, head tilting.

They all pause, listening. Eddie raises an eyebrow, just as a faint, distant meow floated through the air.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie mutters, following the sound. It was close, practically right around the corner from Dustin’s place. They round the block, and sure enough, there he was.

Fat, fluffy, and smug as hell, Tubs was perched on a low branch in one of the old oaks, tail flicking lazily as he blinked down at them.

“Seriously?” Dustin shouts, throwing his hands up. “You were here the whole time? We walked, like, ten miles!”

Eddie squints up at the cat, shading his eyes. “You’re telling me! We passed this spot like...three times?”

Dustin turns to him, eyes wide. “I told you to check the trees!”

“You did not!” Eddie protests, crossing his arms. “You said to check the bushes. I checked the bushes.”

“Maybe if you didn’t get distracted talking about Wayne’s goddamn truck for fifteen minutes, we would’ve found him earlier!”

“Excuse you, Henderson, my storytelling is captivating, alright? You just have the attention span of a fly.”

Lucas snorts. “So, how are we getting him down? Want me to sling a pebble at him?”

Max turns to him, incredulous. “Are you suggesting you’d just...what? Slingshot the cat out of the tree?”

Lucas shrugs, reaching into his back pocket and holding up the slingshot with a grin. “Could work.”

Dustin holds up a hand, horrified. “I’m not gonna let you turn Tubs into target practice, you maniac.”

Lucas crosses his arms, squinting up at Tubs. “Okay, so how do we get him down?”

All eyes turn to Eddie.

Eddie blinks. “Why the hell are you looking at me?”

“You’re the tallest!” Dustin says, pointing. “And you’re...you know. Agile.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Agile?”

Lucas smirks. “He just called you lanky.”

“Hey!” Dustin snaps. “I did not!”

Max sighs, poking Eddie in the ribs. “Are you gonna do it or not?”

Eddie looks back up at Tubs, who blinked down at him with a distinct lack of concern. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, and shoots them a grin.

“Alright, alright. Stand back and watch how it’s done.”

He hands off his jacket to Max, gives a dramatic little bow, and approaches the tree. The branches were low enough to grab, but the trunk itself was a bit wider than he expected. Still, Eddie was nothing if not stubborn. With a little jump, he grabs onto the lowest branch, muscles flexing as he hauled himself up.

“Don’t break your neck, Munson,” Max calls, sounding way too entertained.

“Shut up, I’m fine,” he grunts, swinging his leg over. A couple more branches, a little more cursing under his breath, and he finally reaches the one Tubs was lounging on.

The cat regarded him with absolute indifference.

“Well, aren’t you a little bastard,” Eddie says, inching forward. He stretches out his hand, making that little tsk tsk tsk noise people always did. Tubs stares at him, unblinking.

“Come on, buddy. Time to come down.”

Tubs does not move.

“Seriously?” Eddie huffs, scooting even closer. “Okay, if you claw me, I’m throwing you back up here, I swear to God.”

Miraculously, Tubs allows Eddie to grab him without incident, though the cat does groan like he was being incredibly inconvenienced. Eddie held him against his chest, feeling a wave of relief.

“You’re heavy as hell, you know that?”

From below, Dustin cups his hands around his mouth. “You got him?”

Eddie looks down, a wild grin spreading across his face. “Hell yeah, I got him! King of the goddamn jungle, baby!”

He begins his descent, one arm gripping the branches while Tubs hung in the other, still looking wildly unimpressed. When Eddie finally drops to the ground, the group erupts into applause.

Dustin runs forward, scooping Tubs up from Eddie’s arms and hugging him to his chest. “You scared the crap outta me, you furball!”

Eddie straightens up, cracking his back. “There you go. Munson, the cat whisperer.”

Max snorts. “I think you’ve officially reached Disney Princess status.”

Eddie throws her a wink. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Lucas grins, clapping him on the back. “Alright, hero. Let’s get him back before he runs off again.”

Eddie glances at his watch. 4:08 p.m. He couldn’t help the little grin that tugged at his mouth. Right on time.

They return to the house, Max graciously handing Eddie back his jacket, which he slips on with a graceful bow. Dustin cradles Tubs, kissing the fluffy fur of that unnaturally large cat.

When they get back, they find Mike and Will just sitting in Dustin's living room.

“You found him!” Will smiles, excitedly.

“Yeah, no thanks to you, apparently.” Dustin spits, rolling his eyes.

Lucas flops down on the empty couch, pulling at the elastic of his slingshot. “Have you guys seriously been sat here the whole time?”

“No.” Mike argues, folding his arms. “We only got back, like, 15 minutes ago.”

Lucas hums, not believing them, while Dustin is quietly scolding the cat, who he’s now set down on the ground, and the cat just walks away, unbothered, and he hears Dustin whisper “Don’t you walk away from me, young man.” Which makes Eddie grin.

“Right.” He announces, clasping his hands together with a loud clap. “I have places to be. Mayfeild?” He raises a brow at her, gesturing for her to come.

“Nah, I might hang out for a bit.” She shrugs. Eddie deadpans, giving her an unimpressed look.

“So you just want me to take the car and leave you here.” He says more as a dry statement than as a question.

Mayfield gives him an expression that says ‘Duh.’ and shrugs at him, before grinning to herself like she thinks Eddie’s an idiot.

“Alright, whatever, just… get home safe.” He sighs, giving up. “Later, Dusty. Keep that cat on a leash.” He grins.

“Cya Eddie! Thanks for the help!” He calls after him, and the faint chatter of the kids dissolves as Eddie lets himself out of the house, and back towards Billy Hargroves car. How ironic.

Sometimes he feels a little bad, seeing as the guy was his friend's brother and all, but… Eddie couldn’t give less of a shit that that asshole is dead. Obviously, he sympathises with Max, but, this is the guy who almost cracked his skull open in gym when Eddie was a sophomore, just for looking at him the wrong way.

He get’s back, parking the car outside Max’s trailer, and rushing off back to his.

4:34. Perfect. He even had some time to kill before Steve came round.

He goes and flops down on his bed for a while, half way through his re-read of the shining, until it’s around ten to five, when he gets up, slipping a guitar pick between the pages as a bookmark.

He brushes his hair, properly this time, fluffing it up carefully. He untucks the necklace from where it’s slipped under his Black Sabbath t-shirt. He deliberates whether to leave the denim battle jacket on or off, before just deciding to leave it on. For the final touch, he heavily sprays on the drug store cologne with the last drops at the bottom of the bottle.

Perfect.

He was practically vibrating where he sat, one leg bouncing up and down with enough force to shake the entire trailer. He checked the clock on the wall for the tenth time in the last five minutes. 5:13 p.m. Any minute now.

Not that Eddie was counting.

He let out a slow, steadying breath, running his hands through his hair and shaking them out.

“Alright, Munson. Calm down. Chill out.” He tried sinking back into the couch, forcing his leg to stop its relentless jittering. It lasted approximately ten seconds before he was drumming his fingers against the armrest.

And then, finally, he heard it. The smooth, unmistakable purr of Steve’s BMW pulling up outside. Eddie shot to his feet, barely resisting the urge to run to the window like some excited golden retriever. He rolled his shoulders, took another breath, and tried for a casual stroll to the door.

He flung it open just as Steve raised his fist to knock, and Steve blinked, clearly surprised. “Eager, huh?” he said, one brow cocked, that signature Harrington grin slipping easily onto his face.

“You bet.” Eddie just grins. God, it was like he saw the guy in a new light entirely. No longer just the guy who saved his life who he yearned for who was unattainable, out of reach, but a guy who, apparently, he might have a chance with. A big chance, Eddie thinks, by the look on Steves face.

“Right,” Steve said, clearly amused. He raised his hand, and Eddie finally noticed the familiar VHS tape clasped in it. Friday the 13th Part 2. “Brought the goods.”

Eddie stepped aside, waving him in with a dramatic flourish.

“So, how was the monotony of a 9-5 occupation?” Eddie asks, still smiling like crazy as he closes the door behind them.

Steve sighs. “Long. Boring.” He makes his way into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch with a huff.

He’d changed again. Obviously. Like he didn’t dare show up at Eddie’s in his work uniform. Sweet.

“Yeah?” He cocks a brow. “Oh, you want a drink? We’ve got… beer or soda. Or you could risk the tap water.” Eddie shrugs with a grin.

“Beers good.” Steve nods at him, smirking.

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Coming right up, Sir Harrington.” He mock bows, before rushing off to the kitchen, retrieving two beers from the fridge and slamming the door shut with his hip.

He re-emerges into the living room, putting the two bottles down with a quiet thunk, next to the bottle opener that's still on the coffee table. Steve leans forward to crack to lids off the beers.

He then stands, holding out a hand for Steve to hand him the tape. He does.

Steve nods. “What about you? Anything exciting today?” He asks sarcastically, like he expects Eddie to have just been sat around smoking twiddling his thumbs all day.

“Very exciting, actually.” He says as he cracks open the VHS tape box, kneeling in front of the TV. “I saved a fat cat from a tree.”

Steve lets out a surprised laugh. “What?” He asks incredulously.

“Y’know, Dustin's new cat, Tubs.” He says as he slides the VHS into the TV box, it whirring to life as he does. “It got lost. We were looking for hours, before Max found it in a tree.” The movie begins to buzz to life, the little play screen flickering before fading away. Eddie practically skips back to the couch, before flopping down on it.

“I climbed the tree and saved it like I was a damn fireman.” He explains, as he throws his legs over Steve's lap casually. Apparently, he’s got some newfound confidence.

Steve’s face flickers with surprise for a split second, before he blinks at Eddie with a quizzical look, slightly grinning in disbelief.

“You serious?” He asks, casually putting the arm on the side not facing Eddie over Eddie's legs, hand resting on his knee.

Eddie mentally checks a box. This is totally, 100% no longer a ‘bro hangout’. What it is, though, Eddie doesn’t know. He doesn’t entirely care. Because there is currently a lot of physical contact going on, and it’s warm and making him feel slightly dizzy, and Steve’s hand is currently on his knee which is, infact, bare, due to the rip in his jeans.

“Totally.” He grins. “They’re calling me cat whisperer Munson on the streets now.”

Steve snorts. “Not the worst thing you’ve been called.”

Eddie whacks him playfully, but he laughs. “Alright, are we gonna watch the movie or talk the whole damn way through?”

Steve shakes his head, smiling, and their gaze lingers for a beat, almost like a shared acknowledgment of the shift in dynamic, but Eddie can’t be sure. He’s never sure. So he tears his eyes away first, watching the opening scene flicker on the TV.

The living room was drenched in the flickering glow of the TV screen, screams and ominous music filling the small trailer. Steve’s left hand rested on Eddie’s knee, fingers drumming absentmindedly in rhythm with whatever tension was building on screen. His other hand held a now half-empty beer bottle he’d been swigging at occasionally, the glass slick with condensation. Eddie was trying not to think too hard about the weight of Steve’s palm on his leg, or the way his fingertips occasionally flexed, grounding him.

Eddie’s right calf was starting to cramp up something fierce, but there was no way in hell he was moving. Nope. Not happening. He’d endure the pins and needles and full-blown muscle failure if it meant keeping Steve right where he was.

“So, wait,” Steve leaned forward a bit, eyes squinting at the screen as if trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding. “Why the hell are they splitting up again? Didn’t they literally just see the guy with the machete?”

Eddie laughed, flicking some hair out of his eyes. “Harrington, you gotta understand, this is slasher logic. These people have the survival instincts of lemmings. If they didn’t split up, there’d be no movie.”

Steve snorted. “I dunno, maybe a movie where they use, I don’t know, common sense, would be more interesting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you suggesting you’d rather watch two hours of people sitting in a locked room, not getting killed?” Eddie wiggled his foot a little, nudging Steve’s side. “Face it, big boy, you’d be bored in ten minutes.”

Steve took a sip of his beer, his hand still drumming steadily against Eddie’s knee. “Yeah, alright. Maybe you got me there.” He tilted his head, watching the screen as another victim inevitably met their end. He winced. “Jesus. That was…graphic.”

Eddie snorts. “You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Steve gives him a thoughtful look. “You really like this stuff, huh?”

Eddie blinks at him, suddenly feeling entirely too seen. “Yeah. I mean, it’s fun. And it’s sorta metal.” He grins, running the ends of a strand of hair through his fingers.

“Right.” Steve just says, but it’s not mocking or insulting. Just… amused. Fond, maybe.

They sit like that pretty much through the entire movie, like neither of them dared to move. Eventually Eddie had to shift his right leg, tucking it up a little higher because he thought it might fall off. Steve didn’t notice. Or pretended not to. He absentmindedly fidgets with the threads at the rip of Eddie's jeans, occasionally swallowing a mouthful of beer, eyebrows raising when something shocking happens on screen.

Eddie never wants this movie to end. He feels light, and warm, and he’s relaxed now. It feels natural, easy. He drank his beer way too quickly, and now he’s swirling the leftovers around in the bottom of the bottle. Occasionally he throws out a joke about the stupidity of horror characters, or teases Steve about being scared.

Before he knows it, the movies over, and Steve is sighing. “Well, that was…”

“Better than the last one?” Eddie prompts, grinning with one brow cocked.

“I think I prefer the first one.” Steve says seriously, tilting his head.

“Yeah?” Eddie says, a little endeared by the fact Steves genuinely taking this seriously.

“I don’t know. Like they say. Sequels are never as good.” He shrugs, grinning.

Eddie gives a soft laugh, and goddamn it Munson that wasn’t even funny.

He fidgets with his rings. “Food?” He asks simply. Steve's grin widens.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Eddie snorts. “You wanna order pizza again? Or I know a real good Chinese place, but we gotta drive there and order it the old fashioned way.” He suggests.

“I’m down for that.” Steve tilts his head.

“Good.” Eddie bites his lip, grinning, before swinging his legs off of Steve, almost kicking the beer bottle out his hand and already missing the warmth. He straightens, stretching out like a cat.

He feels his shirt ride up, showing midriff. He didn’t think about it at all until he drops his arms down to his side, looking down at Steve, whose eyes quickly, inconspicuously flicker upwards to meet his gaze. A slow grin spreads across Eddie's face.

“Alright, come on, Princess.” He teases, before going to slip his boots on.

Steve scoffs. “You keep coming up with worse things to call me.” He says dryly as he stands, following Eddie to the door to slip his sneakers on.

“What do you want me to call you?” Eddie raises a teasing brow, leaning back against the wall in front of the trailer door.

Steve shoves his foot in his sneaker, before straightening up, now entirely too close. “Whatever you like.” He replies smoothly, that dumb smirk on his mouth again.

Eddie stews in the tension for a second, enjoying every second of it, before just leaning in even more, and tapping Steve lightly on the cheek.

“Princess it is, then.” He sing-songs, before throwing the trailer door open, hearing Steve huff behind him.

The sun was just starting to hang low in the sky, the evening still warm and bright. Eddie walks towards Steves car, and Steve jogs up behind him to catch up. Eddie smirks to himself.

“So, where is this place?” He quirks a brow.

“Oh, it's the one down Ivenmore. Y’know, it’s called Shan Shui or something.” He explains, reaching the passenger side door of Steves car.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how you say that.” Steve raises an amused brow as they climb into the car.

“Whatever.”

The smell of Chinese takeout filled Steve's car, the windows rolled down for ventilation, as they sat in a parking lot down the road form the Chinese place. Eddie was perched sideways in the passenger seat, one leg curled up beneath him, chopsticks expertly navigating a box of fried rice.

“You’re gonna get soy sauce all over your car, y’know that?” Eddie warned, waving his chopsticks dramatically.

Steve, mouth full of lo mein, just shrugged. “That’s a future Steve problem.”

Eddie laughed, a loud, unrestrained sound that filled the car. He plucked a spring roll from the crinkling paper bag, holding it up like he was making a toast. “To future Steve, who’s really gonna hate you.”

Steve clinked his half-eaten dumpling against the spring roll, grinning. “I’ll drink to that.” He bit into the dumpling, then gestured at Eddie with his chopsticks. “I’m still surprised you can use those things.”

“Please,” Eddie scoffed. “I’m a man of culture, Harrington. A worldly gentleman.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, sure. Real refined.”

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows. “I can even slurp ramen without spilling it.”

“That’s a goddamn miracle,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

They ate in companionable silence for a minute, the radio playing some soft rock tune that neither of them really listened to. Steve tossed the empty dumpling container into the backseat and leaned back

“Chinese food always reminds me of when I was a kid,” He starts, swirling his chopsticks around in his noodles. “My mom used to order it all the time when she didn’t feel like cooking.”

Eddie quirks a brow. Steve never really talks about his parents, or childhood, or himself that much, really. “Was that a lot?” He asks carefully.

Steve gives him a quick, hesitant glance, before shoving some noodles in his mouth so he doesn't have to speak. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowing.

“I guess.” He says finally. He pauses, and Eddie just lets him. “As I got older, they just wouldn’t bother coming home. Leave cash on the counter for me to order something myself. By the time I was 16 I was spending it on cigarettes or beer.” He snorts, like it’s funny.

Eddie gives a half hearted smirk. On the inside, his chest feels all warm and weird, because Steve Harrington is actually somewhat opening up to him.

“I remember eating dry handfuls of stale Cheerios for dinner when I was a kid.” He offers with a shrug, hoping him sharing something would make Steve feel less vulnerable.

Steve huffs a laugh, but there’s a flicker of sympathy in his eye.

Eddie just twirls more noodles around his chopsticks, quite enjoying the comfortable familiarity of Steve's company.

“My dad’s in town at the moment for once,” Steve starts casually, but he’s staring at the noodles in his lap so hard it might burn a hole through them. “It makes the house feel smaller, you know?”

Eddie nods, chewing slowly. “I get you.” He says around his mouthful before swallowing. “Doesn’t it get lonely in that big empty house, though?” He asks quietly.

Steve nods, barely glancing at him. “Yeah. That’s why I used to throw parties so much in highschool. It filled the place out.” He sort of grins. “It still feels empty, I guess, but now there’s just an asshole walking around who’s gonna tell me everything I've apparently done wrong.” He huffs a laugh, bringing his chopsticks to his mouth.

Eddie tilts his head. It’s nice that Steve’s being open with him. It makes this, whatever this is, feel raw, and real. He likes that Steve’s letting him know him.

“Hey, dads suck.” Is stupidly all he can think of saying, but Steve looks at him then and gives him a small smile.

He feels a little bad for Steve. Yeah, Eddie's dad was probably in the Guinness world records of worlds shittiest father, but hey, Eddie had Wayne now. Eddie got away.

“Yeah.” Steve says simply, before going to reach for one of Eddies spring rolls. Eddie scoffs a laugh but just lets him. Eddie would give Steve Harrington every spring roll in the world if he asked.

“Hey,” Eddie starts, a little too softly. “If you ever get sick of that big old house, you’re always welcome in my humble abode.” He shrugs, casually. “I mean, it’s no mansion, but…”

“We gotta get through the Friday the 13th franchise somehow, right?” Steve smiles, but his tone is fond. Eddie smiles back.

Steve throws the rest of the spring roll in his mouth.

“Thanks, though.” He says quietly.

“‘Course.” Eddie says, still smiling.

He could get used to this.

Chapter Text

It had been two and a half weeks.

Almost three whole weeks of… whatever's going on.

After that Friday, Eddie had visited him at work on Sunday, and brought him a coffee from the cafe down the street, and Steve had smiled like an idiot at the fact Eddie remembered his coffee order.

Then, it was Tuesday, and Steve’d come round after work to watch Friday the 13th part 3.

They sat on the couch, legs entwined like it was natural now, splayed out on the couch like Steve lived there. He’d brought popcorn from a convenience store on his way there, the kind you put in the microwave to pop, and Steve was only slightly terrified of the possibility of Eddie's microwave blowing up.

At some point during the movie, Steve had teasingly said Eddie would probably die first in a horror movie, and Eddie chucked a piece of popcorn at his face.

“Don’t act like it wouldn’t be you dragging my ass away from the guy with a machete.” He narrowed his eyes, smirk pulling at his mouth.

Steve huffed a laugh. “I’d totally leave you there.”

Eddie gasped, bringing a hand to his heart in mock offence. “You wouldn’t.”

“Maybe i’m getting tired of being your knight in shining armour all the time.” He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning fondly.

Eddie nudged him with his elbow. “I don’t care, I can absolutely save myself.” He argues, before turning back to the screen. “Besides, if I was in a horror movie, I’d be one of the idiots that die while having sex. Like the people in the first movie, the ones who got the arrow shoved through both of them from under the bed. That was metal.”

Steve raises his brows, considering this. “Lucky guy.” He muttered.

Eddie laughed. “Not really. He’d be dead.”

Steve shrugged, shooting him a little grin. “Risk i’m willing to take.” He throws out casually.

Eddie felt heat rise to his face, and he smacked Steve on the arm. “Shut up.” He said, but there was no heat behind it, just vague amusement.

After the movie ended, they ended up migrating to Eddie’s room, Steve inspecting it like it was a science experiment.

Eddie knelt on his floor, rifling through the box of tapes under his bed for a good album. Steve lightly traced his hand over the collection of jewellery on top of Eddie’s dresser.

Eddie slipped an AC/DC tape into the cassette player, as Steve now flipped through Eddie’s collection of comic books.

“Hey, this is the one Dustin was looking for.” He held up the newest Uncanny X-men comic.

“I know,” Eddie said dryly. “Last time I lent him a comic I never got it back.”

Steve snorted a laugh, and sat on the edge of his bed, he flipped through it like he was pretending to actually read it.

“How do you have so many of these, anyway?” He asked curiously, as Eddie flopped down on his bed next to him, the bed frame creaking beneath him.

“I have an in with one of the guys who work at the comic store,” He grinned, laying flat on his back and fiddling with his hair. “I give him weed, and he sneaks me the newest releases.”

Steve gave him a dry look, raising a brow in a mix of slight disapproval and amusement. He bent down to return the comic to the pile, before his eyes caught the glint of silver metal hanging from the side of Eddie's closet. His brow furrowed.

“Why do you have handcuffs?” He asked incredulously, small grin of disbelief on his face. Eddie straightens, sitting up next to him, looking between him and the item in question.

“You wanna find out?” He said smoothly, leaning in a little and lowering his tone, smirking. Steve stared in confusion for a second, before his eyes widened a fraction and Eddie watched in real time as he went the tiniest bit red.

“I… maybe.” He muttered, his best attempt at a retort. Eddie laughed, nudging him in the side before falling back to laying down.

“Relax, sweetheart. They’re just for decoration.” He explained, but there was still something lurking behind his tone, tension still hanging between them as Steve is now just staring at the cuffs like he’s deep in thought. “I think they look cool.” He offered, attempting to make Steve relax, but he’s still grinning wildly.

“How’d you even get them?” Steve mumbled eventually. “You rob a police officer?”

Eddie just laughed, tapping the side of his nose and winking at Steve after he finally looked back at him.

The next day, on Wednesday, in the evening, Eddie got a hammering knock at his door. He swung the door open, as he was just wearing sweats. He was having his wind down joint of the evening. Max Mayfield stood in his doorway with an exasperated expression, a big chunky radio in her hand. The radio’s that all the kids had to communicate with each other.

“Steve wants you to call him.” She said simply, seemingly annoyed at the effort of walking across the street.

Eddie blinked at her. “What?” But she had already turned and started walking back to her trailer.

Eddie sighed, running and grabbing his jacket and a handful of quarters before going back out, half jogging over to the Payphone at the edge of the lot.

Some of the trailers had landline phones, but now Eddie’s cursing the fact that he and Wayne agreed it was ‘just another bill to pay’ and that they ‘don’t have anyone to call’.

He slips a quarter into the slot, dialling in Steve’s number from where he had all his friends' numbers scrawled on a scrap piece of paper.

He ended up standing out there for hours, watching the sun begin to set over the trailer park, making it seem somehow pretty as it’s bathed in pinks and oranges. Every now and again, he’d have to slip in another quarter so they could keep talking, and Eddie leaned against the side of the machine, cigarette between his fingers.

He can’t exactly remember what they talked about. Steve had wanted to call him to talk about something Dustin had done, something about him trying to rope Steve into playing D&D, but eventually admitted he just wanted to talk to Eddie, which didn’t make Eddie’s stomach flutter uncomfortably at all. Nope.

They talked about the kids, about how they should get Eddie his own radio so he can communicate with them, and Steve said something about how he’s not a kid, and he should have a phone like a normal person, and Eddie said ‘not all of us have the privilege of having this new age technology, King Steve’.

They talked about Robin, about her Vicki dilemma, about when they were gonna watch the next movie, and Steve said something about how some of them are planning some movie night round the Wheelers place, and apparently Nancy had invited Robin, and then Steve started talking about how Robin and Nancy keep hanging out.

Something aches in Eddie’s chest when Steve talks about Nancy. Steve hesitated for a second, probably sensing this.

So he scrambled to get out that Mike wanted him to ask Eddie to come, and that it would be cool if Eddie could come, y’know, because he… it would be cool. Eddie laughed and asked when. Saturday. He had Corroded Coffin practice, but he could cancel.

Eddie made a joke about how all they seem to do is watch movies. Steve laughed and said it sorta was his job.

Eventually, he heard a door open, what he assumed was Steve's bedroom door, and there was a different voice in the distance.

“Stephen, get off the phone!” It demanded, and Steve huffed, covering the receiver of the phone, muffling the conversation.

“Alright.”

“You’ve been talking for hours, do you ever run out of damn things to say?”

Steve grumbled. “I’m getting off the phone.”

“Good. Last time I checked you don’t pay the fuckin’ bills around here.”

The door slams closed.

Steve sighs down the phone.

“It past your bedtime, Stephen?” Eddie teased softly, hoping to lighten the mood a little. Steve scoffs a laugh, groaning.

“Save it, Edward.” He retorted.

Eddie hates being called that. Hates being called his full name. Every time, it just makes him think of his stupid piece of shit father.

But for some reason, coming from Steve Harrington, it didn’t annoy him as much as usual. He made it seem softer.

Still hated it, though.

But he guessed Steve probably feels the same about being called his full name.

“Alright, well. I’ve gotta go.” Steve said reluctantly.

“I’m on my last quarter anyway.” Eddie grinned.

Steve laughed softly. “Alright, well. See you.”

“Go get your beauty sleep, Harrington.” He said fondly.

The line went dead.

The payphone asked him to insert another quarter. Good timing.

He hung the phone back up, and practically skipped back to his trailer. He slept good that night, still feeling warm and fuzzy like a lovesick schoolgirl.

The next time they saw each other was that Saturday.

Eddie called Gareth that morning to tell him he couldn’t make it to practice. Gareth had gotten annoyed and they’d bickered for a bit before Eddie just scoffed at him and said he’s not wasting another quarter talking to him before hanging up.

Steve picked him up around midday, because apparently he had some errands to run and he wanted company.

Steve went to the bank to exchange his paycheck for cash, which he crammed into his wallet. Then, they went to a hardware store to pick up some nails for some shelf his dad was putting up, while he rambled complaints about how he’s doing renovations when he’s barely even home.

They went back to Steves place to drop it off, and when they pulled up, Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, seeing that his dad’s car wasn’t on the drive. He started complaining about how he’s not even home now, and then invited Eddie inside.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in Steve Harringtons bedroom.

“Your room is almost exactly what imagined.” Eddie said thoughtfully, taking in the slightly ugly wallpaper and the terrifyingly cleanliness of it, like it was a furniture store showroom. Just a bed, a desk with a record player, a bedside table with a book and a lamp on it, a closet, and that was pretty much it. It was almost sad.

“You imagined my room?” Steve raised a brow, smirking as he sat down on his bed.

“Oh, yeah. Dreamed of it.” Eddie said, only half sarcastically, and Steve’d just raised his brows at him.

Eddie rifled through Steve’s record collection that was stored neatly on a little shelf. He grimaced, expressing his distaste for Steve’s subpar music taste, before eventually settling for The Cure, slipping it onto the record player. They only had an hour or so until they had to leave for the Wheelers, picking Robin up on the way.

Eddie sat on Steve’s bed, eyes immediately widening. He threw himself onto the bed, head sinking into the pillows.

“Holy shit this is the most comfortable bed i’ve ever been in in my entire life.” He breathed in amazement, closing his eyes to just enjoy the feeling of laying on a cloud.

Steve's bed was big. King sized. A lot of things about Steve's life seemed to be big and empty. He cracked an eye open to see Steve smiling at him like an idiot.

“Nice change from that gross mattress, huh?” He teased, swinging his legs up to lay on his back next to him, Eddie who was still on his front, burying his face in the pillow, mass of soft dark hair around him.

Eddie poked him in the side. “Shut up.”

Steve laid with his hands behind his back, as Friday I'm in Love crackled from the record player, and Eddie tucked his arms under the pillow, head to the side to face Steve.

Laying in Steve Harrington's bed, with Steve Harrington. How on earth had his life led to this?

Maybe this was a little too sappy, but… maybe this made it worth it. Maybe Eddie attempting to blow hair out his face, and Steve laughing at him before tucking it behind his ear for him, all soft and gentle, like it was natural, in a bed that smelt comfortingly like Steve Harrington's washing detergent, made it all worth it. Being accused of murder, hunted like an animal, going to literal hell and almost being mauled to death by demon bat creatures.

He’s not saying he’d do it again. If he could turn back time and stop it all, save Chrissy, obviously he would.

But he can’t. This is how things went in this universe. But maybe it all wasn’t so bad. Maybe this made it all a little better.

And the way Steves smiling at him tells him maybe, just maybe, he feels a little fraction of the same thing.

Eventually, the clock ticks over to 4:40, so they get up and go back downstairs, Steve grabbing his keys and they shove their shoes on before going back to Steve's car.

They go and pick Robin up, who complained about being demoted to the back seat before giving them both a little knowing smirk, and Eddie studied Steve to see if he noticed how Robin hadn’t just given one to Steve. He didn’t. He just scowled and told Robin to put her seatbelt on.

They spent the rest of the evening in the Wheelers basement. At first, Steve had sat next to Robin, Eddie sitting with Dustin and Mike and the other younger ones, talking excitedly about a new campaign idea, one they were all really excited that Will was planning. Will acted all shy and humble about it, but Wheeler was really hyping it up, saying they were gonna play it here in the basement, and that they want Eddie to play, like it’s a Hellfire reunion. Eddie laughed and shrugged and said he’d love too if it was okay with the Dungeon Master. Will said it was okay.

They were watching Top Gun, which Eddie wasn’t entirely thrilled about, not really his style of movie. Nancy was curled up with Jonathan on the smaller loveseat, who had his arm slung around her.

Steve barely even looked at her. They had exchanged pleasantries, Nancy seeming a little hesitant at first since, well, whatever the hell had happened at Dustin's birthday party, but Steve was casual, just friendly, and she seemed to relax a little.

Eddie couldn’t help the pang of jealousy in his chest. But Steve wasn’t flirting with her. She’d teased him at some point and he punched her in the arm like she was one of his guy friends or something. Eddie eased up as the movie started, and Steve didn’t even look at her once, just whispering to Robin about something that made her roll her eyes.

About half way through the movie, Eddie and Dustin got up to go retrieve snacks (and beer, for Eddie), and when they got back, Dustin had bounded back into the room, handing the bags of chips to Mike and Lucas. Before he could reclaim his spot on the couch next to Steve, Steve looked at Eddie and patted the space next to him. Eddie shot Dustin a smug look before flopping down next to Steve, sprawling out like a lazy cat.

Dustin had complained, but Steve just said something about how Eddie was older, and needed the back support, which earned him a smack on the arm from Eddie. Dustin grumbled and took Eddie's spot on the floor in front of the couch with the rest of the kids.

Eddie shamelessly threw his legs over Steve's lap, and half over Robins. She smacked his feet away, sneering at him, and Eddie just kicks her in the side. They started bickering either side of Steve, and Steve just snapped at them both to be quiet. Eddie retreated a little, hiking his knees up so his feet were just on the couch between Steve's legs, and Robin grumbled something under her breath, which only Steve heard, him laughing at her.

People moved around as others got up to pee or retrieve snacks and drinks from the kitchen, and eventually Eddie and Steve were ushered over so Nancy could cram on the end of the couch, slipping in next to Robin, Eddie and Steve sharing a look of half annoyance and half amusement as the two women whisper to themselves and giggle.

Will and Mike end up taking her spot on the loveseat, the Byers brothers bickering quietly as Mike rolls his eyes.

Eddie catches Dustin giving him and Steve a look, and Eddie just sticks his tongue out at the kid.

Eventually, the movie ends, not that half of them were really watching it anyway.

The room erupted into normal volume chatter instead of the whispered kind. Eddie and Steve started debating, Steve arguing that action movies like that were better than the horror movies Eddie forces him to watch, Eddie stubbornly folding his arms and saying they won’t watch the rest of the Friday the 13th movies then, to which Steve narrows his eyes and argues no, they’re going to watch the rest of them. Eddie laughed.

Eventually, Steve had gotten up to talk to Dustin about something, leaving Eddie, Robin and Nancy to chat about random stuff.

Eventually, Dustin and Steve had begun what looked like play fighting, Dustin attempting and failing to wrestle the older man to the ground. Eddie watched in amusement, before returning to his conversation about the best form of potato with Robin and Nancy.

Eventually, Max and Lucas had somehow joined in, as they were now attempting to retrieve Dustin's hat back from where Steve was holding it above their heads, grinning wildly. After a bit, Steve was just laughing, as Dustin pouted at him, arms folded, as Max had given up punching him in the stomach.

“Come on man! Give it back.” Dustin practically whined. Steve laughed harder.

“No way. This is way too funny.” He snorted, lowering the hat before swiftly raising it back up again.

“Give it!” Dustin basically yelled, frowning. Steve was still just laughing at the kid. Max stood there with folded arms, amused smirk on her face, as Lucas just rolled his eyes and went to sit on the arm on the chair where Mike and Will still were.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Steve.” He called out firmly, like he was calling a dog. Steve's head snapped towards him, blinking, before looking a little embarrassed. He quickly lowered his arm, slamming the hat back down on Dustin's head.

“There you go, dork.” He huffed, grin returning, before glancing back at Eddie for a second, who just scoffed a laugh.

Dustin adjusted the hat on his head, giving Eddie a perplexed look before glaring at Steve, mumbling some insult at him.

Eddie turned back to the girls, and Robin had a look of pure entertainment on her face, while Nancy just raised her brows at him. Eddie just gives them a smug grin, before continuing his argument about hashbrowns.

After that Saturday, after Steve had dropped him and Robin home, he next saw Steve on Monday.

As was natural now, Steve came by after work, and they watched Friday the 13th part 3. They ended up smoking a bit, not too much so Steve could sober up by the time he needed to head home, but they curled up on the couch as what was apparently usual.

They passed the joint between them, Eddies left arm slung over the back of the couch (Eddie always sat on the right, Steve was always on the left) and Steve, at some point, had leaned back a little, pressing his back into Eddie’s side as he kicked his feet up over the arm of the couch.

Steve found the movie increasingly funny, now watching it a little under the influence, starting to stifle laughter when someone gets their throat slashed on screen. Eddie felt a little lighter too, laughing as well, more at Steve than the movie, though. Steve would throw out some stupid joke that wasn’t even funny, but Eddie would laugh anyway.

Eventually, Eddie stubbed it out in the ashtray on the coffee table, and Steve was fully leaning into him now, his warmth firm and grounding from the haze of being slightly high, and the smell of Steve’s nice, expensive shampoo was comforting.

At some point, Steve nudged him in the side with his elbow, telling him not to fall asleep. Eddie scoffed and said he’d find it difficult to fall asleep when there's a girl screaming on the TV. Steve laughed and said Eddie could sleep anywhere.

Then Eddie listed all the worst places he’s slept, Steve either laughing in disbelief, or occasionally throwing in a concerned, more sympathetic glance when Eddie said a place that he thought was funny, but apparently wasn’t.

It got late, and they ate, and at some point Wayne came home, just raising a brow and glancing between the two of them where they stood in the kitchen.

Steve, who had now basically sobered up, said hello, and was surprisingly friendly to Wayne, and they ended up talking for a few minutes, mostly poking fun at Eddie teasingly, who just grumbled saying he was right there, as well as talking about cars for a bit and other, simple small talk.

Wayne had started to thank Steve for all the shit he’s done for Eddie, such as paying for stuff, giving him rides, and saving his life, you know, casual stuff, but Eddie threw an empty beer can at his Uncle, glaring at him, and Wayne just huffed a laugh. Steve had looked at him with a raised brow and a smug grin, and when Wayne disappeared into his room, Steve teased him.

“You talk about me?” He grinned, leaning in against the counter.

“Yeah, I complain about you.” Eddie retorted dryly, folding his arms.

Eventually, Steve left, disappearing into the night, and Eddie worried about the fact he’d stayed too long, and if he’d get in trouble with his dad.

Wayne came and lent in the doorway of Eddie’s bedroom as he’s sprawled on his bed, head stuck in Stephen Kings The Shining.

“He’s growin’ on me.” Wayne said plainly, scratching the stubble on his chin.

“Yeah?” Eddie raised a brow from behind his book.

“Yeah.” He nods. “He’s a good kid.”

Eddie scoffed. “Thanks for your approval.” He said sarcastically. Wayne grinned.

“You’re welcome.” He said simply, before disappearing to the kitchen to grab a beer.

He saw Steve the next day. He went and visited him at Family Video, as he did every Tuesday.

Steve had smiled at him like a puppy when his owner comes home when the bell above the door jingled and he saw it was Eddie who’d walked in. It made Eddie’s heart skip a beat.

They’d talked, and Robin threw them little looks and chimed in with exasperated comments every now and then.

Steve casually mentioned how his parents had gone again, on holiday in Europe, and he almost awkwardly asked if Eddie wanted to come round and watch the next movie or something, almost not wanting to seem too eager.

Eddie raised a brow, grinning as he points out they only watched the third one yesterday. Steve stumbled, throwing out how they could do something else or Eddie didn’t have to come round at all if he didn’t want to, whatevers fine.

Eddie and Robin shared an amused grin.

“Nah, I’m down to watch the 4th one.” He shrugged. Steve tried not to look too happy.

Cute.

He then casually threw out that Eddie could stay round if he wanted too. Eddie’s grin widened, ignoring the excitement creeping up inside of him.

“Oh yeah? Gonna make me stay on the couch or is King Steve inviting me to his chambers.” He teased, lowering his voice as he leaned in over the counter. Robin made a small gagging noise from where she was re-organising returns.

Steve shrugged. “Whatever you prefer.” He leaned in a little, before quietly adding. “My beds big enough for two, though.” He winked, leaning back to go back to scribbling something down on a clipboard.

Eddie ignored the way his stomach flipped.

Later, Eddie was in Steve Harrington's big, bare house, watching Friday the 13th the Final Chapter. Steve's couch was bigger, enough to fit around four people, but they’d still ended up sitting way too close, this time Steve's legs up over Eddie's lap, Eddie's feet kicked up on the coffee table.

They drank a couple beers, now neither of them had to go home.

Eddie had sweats and a spare T-shirt crammed into his backpack, along with his toothbrush and other essentials, like his pack of Reds and a lighter.

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t gotten his hopes up. Staying the night? Getting a little tipsy? Eddie had a small hope swirling in the back of his mind that something, anything, might happen.

It didn’t. Not really.

Other than them finishing the movie, talking, then playfully wrestling each other, Eddie pretending he didn’t slightly enjoy pinning Steve down. Or Steve pinning him down. They both equally made that annoying heat rise to his face, and gut.

It got late, and they went upstairs, and Eddie dug into his backpack for his other T-shirt, before tearing off the one he was currently wearing.

He’d usually probably be a little insecure about the ugly scars on his torso from his near death-by-demobats experience, but he’s a little tipsy, and it’s just Steve. It’s no longer him trying to impress Steve. They’d slipped into something easy, natural, familiar.

Steves eyes widened a fraction, and Eddie caught him looking, gaze a lot further down than his eyes.

Steve went a little red.

Eddie's torso was pale, ugly pink scars on his sides and upper arms, but it was scattered in badass tattoos, only a few of them messed up by the damage.

By the look on Steve’s face, he still had it.

Eddie threw his bundled up shirt he’d just taken off at Steve, Steve pretending the impact was so great it threw him back on the bed.

“Quit staring, pervert.” He grinned, pulling on the new T-shirt he slept in.

Steve sat up, laughing, Eddie's shirt in his hands.

“I can’t control myself. You should’ve warned me.” He retorted smoothly, raising a brow. Eddie just snorted a laugh as he pulled the new shirt on.

Steve then pulled off his own shirt, the navy polo being thrown to the ground.

Steves torso was tanner, and a little muscular. Nothing Eddie hadn’t seen before. He’d seen it in the upside down. But these were… different circumstances. Eddie had to stop himself from pouncing on the guy.

He had one pinkish scar around his throat, one that often poked out from the neck of his shirts, but there was one on his right bicep too, a healed tear in the skin, as well as one on his left side that looked like it had been particularly nasty.

They had similar scars. Similar things they’d been through. Battles they faced. Each one was a story, and the bigger, uglier ones was a story they had survived together. One they all had. But there were smaller ones, more healed ones, too. Fainter, little white scars on his shoulders, arms, one on his temple, too. Ones from the hell Steve’d survived before Eddie got involved with all the upside down shit.

Eddie had those too, like the little dots on his right shoulder from his asshole dad putting cigarettes out on him when he was a kid, ones he’d covered up with a tattoo of a badass dragon.

He realised he’d been examining Steves shirtless body for too long, because Steve was looking at him with a wolfish grin.

He looked away, grabbing his sweats and going to Steves bathroom to change out of his jeans, saying something about having some shred of dignity. He just heard Steve laugh.

That night, they laid in Steve's king sized bed in the dark, the only light being the dim moonlight pouring through the crack in Steve's curtains.

They were closer than they needed to be, shoulders brushing, as they spoke softly.

Still tipsy, and still thinking about Steve Harrington shirtless, he curiously asked about some of the other scars Steve had.

Steve didn’t seem to mind.

He talked about all the stuff that happened before Eddie ever got involved. The Russian base beneath StarCourt mall, the Mind Flayer, Steve dramatizing the whole thing with enthusiasm, gesturing wildly, Eddie occasionally laughing, or giving Steve a soft look and a comforting nudge when he talked about something that sounded particularly shitty, that Steve just shrugged and said he didn’t really remember because he was drugged out his mind.

He talked about how awesome he was, really hyping himself up, and Eddie didn’t mind, mostly because he agreed, thinking Steve was incredibly brave.

He even talked about stuff from a longer time ago, about fighting Billy Hargrove, about his fight with the demodogs that Eddie had all heard previously from Dustin, and about his first encounters with demogorgans.

It all sounded so fucking surreal.

And, even though Steve was mostly telling it like it was a lighthearted story, Eddie could tell there was a slight tension in his tone. He could tell Steve was leaving out parts, probably ones that were particularly awful. Still, it all sounded fucking awful. Steve probably wouldn’t be talking about this at all if it wasn’t for being a little tipsy.

Eddie sighed sympathetically, finding Steves hand under the covers and tracing his knuckles lightly. Steve froze.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “That’s all fucked up. You shouldn’t have had to go through all that bullshit.” His voice was quiet, and a little gruff with sleepiness.

Steve gave him this wide eyed look, like he was surprised, like Eddie saying that was the most bizarre thing in the world. Like no one had ever said that to him before. His brown eyes glinted softly in the moonlight, and he opened his mouth to say something, before shutting it again, not being able to think of the right words.

Eddie’s heart ached.

Steve looked away, staring up at the ceiling. He cleared his throat.

“Thanks.” He said stiffly, but his hand had moved to trace the rings on Eddies fingers.

And honestly? Of anything that could’ve happened tonight, this was the best.

Laying in bed with Steve, hands entwined, just talking. Opening up, even.

He’d rather lay here, getting to know Steve Harrington, than sleep with him.

It was then, after Steve's breathing had evened out, chest rising and falling steadily as he drifted into sleep, and Eddie watched him, profile illuminated by the moonlight, that Eddie knew he was falling in love with the guy.

That thought scared him a little. But excited him, too. It made his chest ache painfully, but it was a sort of nice warmth that he welcomed.

He didn’t quite know what this in between state they had found themselves in was, this not platonic but not exactly romantic dynamic, but he didn’t mind. Yeah, he was actively waiting, yearning almost, for the day that Steve Harrington would actually make a move, but he knows it can be confusing, and a little scary, Eddie being the first guy he (hopefully) likes.

So he’d wait. He’d wait years if he had to.

God, Eddie was really down bad.

The next morning, Steve had woken up first.

When Eddie woke up, Steve was sat up against the wall, reading Gone with the Wind by Margret Mitchell. Eddie rolled onto his back, rubbing his eyes.

“Morning, sunshine.” Steve grinned, voice still a little deep and gruff from sleep.

“You read?” Eddie smirked, cracking an eye open and looking up at him.

Steve scoffed. “Sometimes. When i’m bored enough.”

Eddie laughed, propping his head up on his hand, elbow leaning against the bed.

“Romance, too.” He used one finger to tip the book forward a little so he could read the blurb. “I should’ve known.”

Steve just tutted and snatched the book away, folding the corner to save the place before throwing it on the bedside table.

His hair was a little unkempt, but somehow still looked painfully good, messy brown hair falling over his forehead and around his face perfectly.

Eddie could get used to waking up next to Steve Harrington.

“Your hairs a mess.” Steve huffed a laugh, before reaching a hand out to carefully brush Eddies bangs back into place over his forehead.

“Thanks. That’s the goal.” Eddie grinned, pretending his heart hadn’t done a little summersault in his chest.

They had brushed their teeth together, laughing at each other in the mirror with mouthfuls of foam, the perfect picture of domesticity.

After that, they had gone downstairs, Eddie entirely too thrilled by all the in date food in Steve's kitchen. He marvelled about the soft bread and the options of spreads in the fridge, and Steve just laughed at him and told him to knock himself out.

Eddie ate three slices of toast that morning, all with different spreads, while Steve spooned shreddies into his mouth, watching Eddie in amusement.

Eddie talked enthusiastically about this new campaign Will was working on, and how it was gonna be nice to not be the Dungeon Master for once, even if he did enjoy it. Steve had just looked a little perplexed, nodding along like he was pretending to understand.

“You know,” Eddie said, shoving the crust of his second slice of toast into his mouth. “I’m surprised you haven’t picked up a little knowledge from Dusty-Buns and the other gremlins.”

Steve shrugged. “I just zone it out.” He took a gulp of orange juice, and Eddie laughed. “They keep asking me to play, they should know by now it’s a no.”

Eddie raised a brow. “Why don’t you?” Steve scoffed an incredulous laugh. Eddie nudged him. “Come on, you might actually have fun.”

“I don’t even know how to play.” He shook his head, swirling his spoon around in his bowl that was now mostly milk.

“I could teach you.” Eddie offered, taking a big bite out of his jam covered toast.

Steve furrowed his brows, giving him a smirk of disbelief. “Isn’t it, like, really complicated?”

Eddie shrugged one shoulder, swallowing. “I could dumb it down for you.”

Steve laughed, kicking him under the table.

“Come on, Harrington. You sure I can’t entice you?” He raised his own glass of orange juice to his mouth before adding. “They’re playing a one-shot on Saturday. If your free tomorrow I could bring my stuff round and teach you in time for then.”

Steve blinked at him for a second, before smirking. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” Eddie just smirked, looking back down at his toast. “Also, one-shot? What’s that?”

“It’s like a campaign that only takes one session.” He explained, gesturing out with his toast, a few crumbs falling on the table. “Sorta like a shorter story.”

“So It’s like a one time thing?”

“Yeah.” Eddie said around a mouthful of toast.

Steve narrowed his eyes, shoving shreddies in his mouth before chewing thoughtfully.

“Alright,” He said eventually. Eddie’s eyes brightened up, almost choking on his toast.

“Really?” He spluttered after managing to swallow. Steve laughed, nodding. Eddie slammed his hands down on the table, making the plate and bowl rattle, and Steves eyes widened a little in surprise. “Yes!” Eddie exclaimed, and Steve just laughed again.

“Chill out, Munson.” He grinned. “I probably won’t be any good at it. Or enjoy it. Actually, i’ll probably ruin the whole thing for everyone.”

“Not for me.” Eddie smiled, and Steves expression softened a little, before returning the smile.

Eddie was eventually kicked out as Steve had so called ‘plans’ with Robin, but the next day, that Thursday evening, Eddie turned up at Steve Harringtons door, backpack crammed with his dungeon master's guide, dice, and little figures, rocking back and forth on his heels impatiently.

Teaching Steve Harrington D&D was hellish. As expected, Eddie had to explain things at least three times before it semi-permanently stuck in Harrington's mind.

They sat on his bedroom floor, book flipped open on a random page, Steve inspecting the dice like they were ancient runes.

“So what’s this one again?” He asked.

“D12,” Eddie sighed. “It’s used for determining the damage you take from some weapons or spells. And if you pick Barbarian as your class, it’s your hit die.” He explained before Steve even had to ask.

Steve raised his brows, nodding slowly. “Right.”

Eddie huffed a laugh.

It took them longer than either of them expected. Eventually, Eddie was rambling about the different classes, holding up an example of one of his character sheets, pointing to each category with his pen like he was doing a presentation. He’s enthusiastic explaining different characteristics of different classes, different weapons or spells they can have.

He’s about ten minutes into his rant when he realises Steve isn’t listening. He’s laid on his floor, head propped up in one hand, just staring at Eddie with the ghost of a smirk on his face.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, but he could feel heat rising to his face and the tips of his ears.

“Hey!” He barked. “Are you even listening?”

Steve's brows raised lazily. “Yeah, I'm listening.” He said smoothly, smile widening.

“Then what did I just say?”

Steves smile faltered, and his brows furrowed. “Something about… dancing lights and bards?”

Eddie chucks the pen at him. “Look, i’m not gonna hold your hand the whole time on Saturday, so you gotta pay attention, or you’re gonna look like an idiot.”

Steve shrugged. “I am an idiot.” He tilts his head. “And you’re cute when you ramble.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. He opens his mouth to say something, before shutting it again. Steve laughs softly.

“God damn it I wish I had another pen to throw at you.” He grumbled.

Steve held out his pen to him as an offering.

“Thank you.” Eddie said politely, taking the pen, before chucking it back in Steve’s face.

“Ow.” Steve frowned.

Eddie laughed at him.

He’d tried his best to teach Steve. But a few hours went by, and they’d somehow started playing a game of boules with the dice, seeing who could roll one closest to the d20 across the room, Eddie complaining that Steve had an advantage because he had the nicer shaped dice.

He’d ended up spending longer than anticipated around the Harrington household. That had started becoming habit now. They’d been spending a lot of time together, barely going a day, two days max, without seeing each other.

They were becoming somewhat inseparable. Like they really couldn’t get enough of each other.

It was nice.

Weird, confusing, but nice.

The next evening, Friday, Eddie had Corroded Coffin practice.

“Dude,” Gareth started literally as soon as Eddie stepped foot in the garage. “Where have you been? We’ve hardly heard from you in, like, a week.”

Eddie shrugged. “I’ve been busy.” He kneels down to set up his darling sweetheart guitar with the amp on the floor.

“Busy doing what?” Jeff scoffed. “Selling weed?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “No.” He shoots them a glare. “I have other friends, you know.”

Gareth raises his brows. “Oh yeah? Like who? King Steve Harrington and that Buckley girl?” He folds his arms. “Remind me how you’re all friends again?”

Eddie shoots them a glare. “Robin was in my chemistry. Harringtons her best friend.” He said simply, standing up, slinging the strap of his guitar over his shoulder. “And it’s not them.”

“No?” Jeff tilts his head. “Then who?”

“None of your damn business.” Eddie said, before promptly drowning them out with a loud strum of his guitar. The two of them muttered amongst each other, Jeff going back to setting up his drums, Gareth giving him a dirty look as he sets up his own guitar.

Matty, who had been quiet this whole time, bass slung over his shoulder, steps forward. Eddie narrows his eyes at him.

“Uh,” Matty starts, clearing his throat. “I know, none of our business or whatever,” He says carefully. “But, uh… is everything good?”

Eddies expression softened a fraction. Matty had always been too thoughtful for his own good.

“Yeah, everythings cool.” Eddie said, a little quieter, and Matty nodded.

Eddie then sighed.

“Hey, if i’m honest…” He starts cautiously, and Mattys brow quirks curiously. “Don’t tell the others,” He jerks his head towards the other two, leaning in so only Matty can hear. “There’s… a guy.”

Matty knew about Eddie's sexuality. So did Gareth. He thinks Jeff knows too, but he can’t really ever tell what Jeff does or doesn’t know.

Matty’s brows raise, and a grin spreads across his face. “For real?”

Eddie grinned too, nodding.

Actually, it was quite nice to talk to someone else about it.

He’d been keeping the whole Steve-situation to himself for far too long, and he assumes Steve talks to Robin about it, or he sorta hopes he does, but Eddie has to keep all that excited and nervous energy bottled up inside him, and sometimes it gets so much he feels like he’s about to explode.

Matty gives him a friendly punch in the arm. “That’s awesome, dude!”

Eddie laughs a little, looking away. “Yeah, well.” He said, trying to play it casual.

“You’re not gonna tell me who it is, are you.” Matty says dryly, more as a statement than a question.

Eddie scoffed a laugh, before patting Matty on the shoulder. “Maybe one day, my child.”

After that, practice went pretty good. Eddie and Gareth had been friends since Gareth was a freshman, and their whole dynamic was them bickering and forgiving each other about 30 seconds later. And Jeff… well, he had the memory of a goldfish. He’d probably already forgotten what they argued about.

The next day, Saturday, Steve picked Eddie up at 12:30pm on the dot.

Eddie threw open the door of the passenger seat, chucking his backpack down by his feet, or where his feet were before he kicked them up on the dash.

“You nervous?” Eddie grinned as they pulled up outside the Wheelers house.

Steve gave him an incredulous look. “No.” He said, before hesitating. “Should I be?”

Eddie laughed.

They walked to the Wheelers door, and Nancy is the one who answered. She gave Steve a weird look, wondering what exactly he’s doing here, and he just shrugged at her.

Then, they made their way down to the basement. Eddie flew down the stairs.

“Eddie!” Mike called, but Eddie brought a finger to his lips, shushing him.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” He announced theatrically. “Today, I have for you a special guest.” He grinned wide, throwing his arms out dramatically.

The kids looked up at him in confusion.

“I present to you,” He continued, as he went all the way down the stairs, before gesturing for Steve to come, who was still hidden at the top of the steps. “Sir Steve Harrington!”

Steve gave them an awkward little wave.

The kids erupted in cheers.

Dustin sprung up, laughing hysterically as he practically jumped on Steve. Steve laughed back, before they did their dorky little secret handshake. Eddie watched, hands on hips, thinking it was incredibly endearing.

“Steve! What’re you doing here?” Dustin beamed at him.

Steve shrugged casually. “Dunno, thought I'd give it a go. Eds showed me the ropes, but ah, no promises of me being any good.”

Eddie pretended he didn’t very much enjoy Steve calling him ‘Eds’.

“Oh, so you agree when he asks you.” Mike called dryly from across the room.

“Hey,” Steve pointed a finger at him. “I’m doing this due to popular demand, okay?”

Dustin scoffed a laugh, turning to Mike as he headed back to his seat at the table. “I don’t care if Eddie had to suck his dick to make him play, he’s here now.”

Eddie's brows shot up, and a surprised laugh escaped him, and he looked at Steve, whose mouth had fallen a little ajar and was turning a little pink.

“Shut up, dork.” Steve grumbled, smacking Dustin on the back of the head. “I miss when you were too young to cuss.”

Eddie laughed to himself, before joining them at the table, pulling up a new chair for Steve, and dumping his bag on the ground, getting all his die and figurines out. He handed Will a copy of his (very detailed) and Steves (scrawled like a 5 year old) character sheets.

The session wasn’t a total disaster. Steve did need help multiple times deciphering what dice to use, but he actually started to get into it, and Will did a good job of being very patient with Steve. Will was an incredible Dungeon Master. Even Eddie was impressed. You could tell the kid had grown up doing it.

Steve was also… endearingly enthusiastic. Once he’d gotten over the initial ‘i’m too cool for this’ act, he ended up cheering along with the rest of them, double hand high-fiving Dustin when they took down a boss, and shouting at Lucas for casting a spell that ended up backfiring. Obviously, Eddie himself was equally, probably more so, fired up, throwing out criticisms of others moves and instructing, rather bossily, on what they should do, which resulted in more than one heated argument.

Eventually, the one-shot campaign came to a close with Will’s dramatic flourish, killing off the final boss and succeeding in their venture, and they all celebrated, cheering and high-fiving, and Eddie watched Steve grin. He was happy he’d actually had fun. Mike was complimenting Wills writing, and Will just said thanks shyly.

When Steve checks his watch, he looked shocked.

“Holy shit it’s been four hours.”

Eddie snorted. “You hadn’t noticed?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun, hey?” Dustin laughed, nudging Steve with his foot under the table.

On the drive home, there was a quiet pause.

“Thanks for uh,” He cleared his throat. “Doing that, by the way.”

Steve gave him an odd look, before he shrugged. “I had fun.”

Eddie grinned. “Would you play again?”

Steve looked at the road ahead with a thoughtful expression. “I don’t know. Seems like something you gotta have a lot of time and dedication for.”

“Fair enough.” He smiled, twirling his hair.

“I’m gonna make you do one of my things next, though.” He said with a slight smirk.

Eddie scoffed. “Oh yeah? What’s one of your things? Gonna make me play basketball or something?”

Steve shoots him a glare. “I have things.” His brow is still furrowed as he stares ahead. Eventually, he clicks his tongue. “I just can’t think of anything right now.”

Eddie laughed. Real hard.

When Steve dropped him off back at the trailer park, he stopped Eddie for a second. He reached into his pocket, and dumped a few quarters out of his wallet, before slamming them into Eddie’s palm.

“Call me tomorrow?” He smiled.

Eddie rolled his eyes at him. “Alright, sweetheart. Don’t miss me too much.” He said dryly, but he ducked out the car with a grin and a wink, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Steve didn’t drive away until Eddie was through the door.

So Eddie did call him the next day. It was a cooler evening, but Eddie didn’t actually own a single sweater, so he just threw on his leather jacket.

He stood at that damn payphone for almost 3 hours.

God knows what they talked about, seeing as they had seen each other almost every day for two weeks.

He stood at that pay phone until 11pm, the night settling over the trailer park, smoking his third cigarette and watching the stars as he talked to Steve Harrington about everything and nothing.

Eventually, they hung up, Steve feeling bad that he’s keeping Eddie stood out there in the cold, even though Eddie said it was worth it, which made Steve do that stupid little laugh.

When Eddie returned to the trailer, Wayne tossed him a dry look from where he was sat on the couch, beer in hand.

“We oughta get a phone if you’re gonna be out there all the damn time.” He said gruffly. Eddie rolled his eyes, flopping down next to him.

“It’s not all the time.” He argued, reaching for a beer and cracking one open for himself.

He was still grinning to himself as he took a sip.

“You’re smitten, kid.” Wayne said, small smirk of amusement on his face.

“Shut up.” Eddie glared at him, but they both laughed.

On Tuesday, Eddie visited Family Video, as per usual.

It was a quieter day, so Eddie could perch on the counter without Steve or Robin complaining.

Him and Robin chatted for a bit, catching up while Steve stocked some shelves, until eventually he came over to them, joining in their conversation.

That’s how Eddie had been roped into their plans for the next day.

The mall. The dreaded mall.

Eddie doesn’t like the mall. Says it’s a cesspit of conformists to a capitalist society.

He was swayed by Robin saying they’d turn a blind eye if Eddie shoplifted anything.

Steve picked Eddie up around midday on Wednesday. He kicked Robin into the backseat. She’d complained, muttering something about favouritism, which made Eddie grin like an idiot.

The mall was loud and obnoxious and smelled like cheap perfume and desperation. Eddie wrinkled his nose as he trailed after Steve and Robin, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

"Remind me why I agreed to this," Eddie grumbled, eyeing the neon signs and bustling shoppers with open disdain.

"Because you love me," Steve replied smoothly, not even glancing back. He was walking backwards, somehow managing to dodge the crowds without looking, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

Eddie scoffed. "I think you mean tolerate. I tolerate you."

Steve smirked, giving him a once-over. "Pretty sure that's not what you said last night, Munson."

Robin made a noise like she was being physically strangled. "Okay, if you two could maybe go five seconds without being disgusting, that would be fantastic. Some of us are in a permanent state of third-wheeldom and would love just a crumb of respect."

Steve smacked her on the arm, scowling, and Eddie just smiled so wide it made his cheeks hurt.

They were in the women's section of some store, Robin showing very visible signs of distaste at the frilly blouses.

Steve picked out a particularly hideous white floral one, holding it up to Eddie’s chest.

“This’d suit you.” He grinned.

Eddie raised a brow. “Yeah? That what you’re into, Harrington?” He smirked, leaning in playfully and yanking the hanger holding the blouse out of Steve’s hands.

Steve just grinned wider, shrugging.

“And they call me the freak.” Eddie muttered under his breath, amused as he shoved the blouse back onto the rack.

"Ugh," Robin groaned loudly, whirling around to face them again. "If I have to listen to any more of your verbal foreplay, I’m gonna hurl right in the middle of Sam Goody’s."

Steve just scoffed. "You’re just mad you didn’t bring Vicky."

Robin pointed at him, eyes squinted. "One more word out of you, and I’m locking you both in the lingerie section and leaving."

Eddie perked up at that, his grin sharp and mischievous. "Oh? Stevie, think you could pull off some lacy red panties?"

Steve laughed, actually threw his head back and laughed, and Eddie felt something warm and stupid bloom in his chest. Steve straightened, sighing away the remnants of his laughter, and said, "I think I could make it work, yeah."

Robin looked like she was genuinely considering killing them both. "I hate both of you. I hope you know that."

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie said, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they walked. "Let’s go find you whatever it is we’re here for so we can get out of this godforsaken place. Smells like capitalism."

Robin rolled her eyes but didn’t shrug him off. Steve was still grinning at him, and Eddie tried not to grin back, but he failed. Miserably.

They meandered over to the men's section, Steve narrowing his eyes at the racks of clothes.

"Okay," Steve held up two shirts, one blue and one maroon. "Which one says, 'I’m here because I have to be, but I’m still cooler than everyone else here'?"

Robin tilted her head, studying them. "Neither. Those both say, 'I’m here because I got lost on the way to a loser convention.'"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Buckley. Super helpful."

Eddie snorted, meandering around the accessories rack, picking up a few things, shoving them back. When he was pretty sure Steve and Robin were fully engaged in their fashion crisis, he slipped a pair of sunglasses into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why. They were these ugly wire framed ones with reflective lenses that he’d never actually wear, but it felt right.

Like a game. A test to see if he still had it.

He floated back to Steve’s side, eyeing the shirts. "I vote blue," he said, pointing. "It brings out your eyes."

Steve raised an eyebrow, holding it up to his chest. "Yeah?"

Eddie nodded seriously. "Yeah. Really brings out that whole 'douchebag jock turned suburban heartthrob' vibe you’ve got going on."

Steve whacked him on the shoulder with the hanger. "Real funny, Munson."

Eddie just grinned and wandered off again, hands slipping over trinkets and keychains. A stupidly shiny lighter went into his pocket next. Then a cassette tape off one of the spinning racks near the entrance. He wasn’t even paying attention to the title. It just felt good to take. A bad habit he never quite shook.

They moved on to another store, and Eddie swiped a handful of candy from one of those overpriced display bins, stuffing it in his jacket with practiced ease. Robin squinted at him at one point, her gaze lingering on his slightly bulging pockets, but Eddie just smiled innocently, and she rolled her eyes and kept walking.

They ended up at the food court, trays loaded with fries and sodas, and Eddie stretched out comfortably, pulling his hoard from his jacket one by one.

Robin stared, jaw slack. "Are you a raccoon? Where the hell did all that come from?"

Eddie just grinned, tossing her a pack of gum he’d snagged from the drugstore. "What? This ol’ thing?"

Steve watched with wide eyes as Eddie dumped more onto the table: the sunglasses, the cassette tape, a metal keychain shaped like a guitar, a set of stud earrings that were little silver skills and a handful of mini Snickers.

"Holy shit," Steve said, picking up the keychain and twirling it. "Are you some kind of magpie? You just steal whatever’s pretty?"

“Careful,” Eddie leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out behind his head. “Might steal you next.”

Steve, to his credit, barely flinched. He just raised his brows, before a slow, wolfish grin spread across his face.

“You’re making me lose my appetite.” Robin grumbled around a mouthful of fries.

Eddie barked a laugh while Steve rolled his eyes, before he went back to staring at Eddie.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon as they wandered out of the mall, Robin lugging a bag with whatever she and Steve had bought today, and Eddie with his pockets jangling suspiciously. Steve had his keys twirling around his finger, looking oddly relaxed.

They made it to Steve’s prized possession, his BMW, Steve unlocking the doors with a click and sliding into the driver’s seat. Eddie, as usual, claimed shotgun with a dramatic flourish, while Robin sighed and flopped into the back.

“Remind me why I’m in the backseat?” she grumbled, tossing her bag beside her.

“You said it yourself, I'm the favourite,” Eddie shot back, stretching out and leaning his head back against the seat. “There’s a new sheriff in town, Buckley.”

Robin kicked the back of his chair. Hard.

“Ladies! Behave yourself.” Steve ordered as he pulled out the lot.

The drive back to Eddie's trailer was filled with easy conversation, mostly Robin and Steve bickering like an old married couple, Eddie chiming in arguments from whoevers side he decided to be on.

As they pulled up outside the trailer, Eddie unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t move to get out right away. He glanced at Steve, who was leaning back in his seat, hands still on the wheel, eyes lingering on him just a bit longer than necessary.

“So, uh.” He started. “We watching the sixth movie on Friday?” He asked, fingers drumming the wheel.

“Oh, shit.” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself. “I’ve got band on Friday. The guys’ll kill me if I miss it again.”

Steve didn’t do a very good job of hiding his disappointment.

“We usually finish at around 7 ish, though.” Eddie shrugged. “If that’s, uh, cool?”

Steve visibly brightened. “Yeah. Cool. I’ll come get you from Gareths?”

Eddie nodded. “Sounds like a plan, Harrington.” He grinned, before ducking out the car.

He stood there on the curb for a beat longer than he should have, watching as Steve pulled away, Robin waving obnoxiously from the backseat.

When the car finally disappeared down the road, Eddie turned towards the trailer, his heart doing something ridiculous and fluttery in his chest.

Chapter Text

Robin climbs into the front seat, over the center console, while Steve is turning out of the trailer park, which definitely isn’t safe. She flops down in the passenger set, tucks her hair behind her ear before pulling the seatbelt across her.

Then, she just stares at Steve.

Steve can feel her eyes boring into him, and he fidgets uncomfortably.

“What?” He spits, giving her a perplexed side eye.

“Oh, come on, Steve!” She rolls her eyes exasperatedly. “That was painful!”

“What?” Steve says again, tone shifting into annoyance.

“You? Him?” She gestures wildly. “Undressing each other with your eyes all day?”

Steve scoffs. “We were not.”

Robin clicks her tongue out of irritation. “You absolutely were. What are you doing, Steve?”

“What do you mean?” He gives her a glance, furrowing his brows before focusing back on the road.

“Seriously?” Robin folds her arms, leaning back. “When are you gonna make a move, Harrington?”

Steve opens his mouth, before closing it again. “Soon.” He gets out eventually.

“Oh my god, you two have been all over each other for ages now, it’s obvious you really like each other.” She tucks one foot beneath her as the car rumbles down the streets of Hawkins. “You gotta get your shit together, dingus.”

“Okay, who made you the romance professional?” Steve says dryly. Robin huffs a laugh.

“I’m not. I’m just saying, if he was a girl, you would’ve slept with him by now.”

Steve coughs in surprise, giving Robin a wide eyed look. Robin just grins.

“Maybe I'm taking things slow, alright? I really…” He trails off, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “I really like him, Rob.”

Robins expression softens in his peripherals. She sighs.

“That’s cute and all, but there is a thing called ‘too slow’.” She says, but her tones less annoyed now.

Steve just hums.

“You haven’t even, like, told each other how you feel.” She continues.

Steve sighs. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Robin scoffs a laugh. “Ask him out?”

Steve blinks at her. “Really? You think…” He stares at the road ahead, gathering his thoughts. “You think that’s where we’re at?”

Robin shakes her head in amusement. “I think that's where you were two weeks ago.”

Steve’s brow furrows, thumb tapping anxiously on the warm leather of the wheel, car way too silent.

“Okay,” He says eventually. Robin raises a brow at him. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

His heart is already hammering at the thought of it, nervous energy creeping up inside of him. Robin just grins.

“Atta boy.”

Steve tuts, rolling his eyes a little.

They sit there, Steve driving towards Robins neighbourhood, as he tries to sort through the swirl of thoughts in his mind.

“I’ll do it Friday.” He says eventually.

“Yeah?” She says. Steve nods.

Steve swallows, and it feels dry and heavy in his throat.

“Why am I nervous?”

Robin shrugs, amused smirk playing at her lips. “You think he’ll say no?”

Steve chews the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “No.” He says. “I’d be surprised if he did.” He adds.

“See? Nothing to be nervous about. You like him, he likes you, you both know it.” She shrugs, playing with the hair tie around her wrist. “The two of you’ll be making out in the back of this car before you know it.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and he shoots Robin a glare, as he feels his cheeks turn a little pink. “Shut up.” Hi spits. Robin laughs.

They continue in silence for a minute, Steve listening to the snapping of Robin's hair tie against her wrist and the smooth rumble of his BMW.

“I think he just makes me nervous.” He says quietly.

Robin snorts. “That’s cute.”

Steve gives her a sidelong dirty look. “Don’t call me cute.”

“Oh but you are, Romeo.” She sing-songs. “Sickeningly so.”

Steve just huffs a reluctant laugh, and Robin grins at him.

They continued their usual banter and bickering all the way back to Robins. Steve parks up on the curb outside, and she leans into the back to grab her bag, pulling out the two shirts Steve’d bought and leaving them on the passenger seat. She ducks out the car, giving Steve an exaggerated wave and a smug grin. Steve stuck his tongue out at her, waving back.

The next day, they had work. It was a usual Thursday, a little busier than usual, but when they were closing up at five, Steve locking the doors behind them as they stood in the street, Friday the 13th: a new beginning tucked under his arm, sun high and bright in the sky, Robin turns to him, giving him a slap on the back.

“Good luck tomorrow,” She says with a smug grin. “You’ll be in my thoughts and prayers.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shoving the keys into his pocket. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t mess it up.” She points an accusing finger at him.

“I won’t.”

“Call me afterwards.” She calls as she’s walking backwards down the street, off to go meet some friends from band.

“I will.” Steve called back, trying his best to look exasperated but the grin on his face giving him away.

All day Friday, Steve felt nauseous. He felt sick with nerves. He practiced what he’d say in the mirror, over and over, cringing at himself and smacking his head against the mirror, groaning.

He didn’t know how to ask out a guy. Was it any different to asking out a girl? It must be. It’s Eddie Munson. What if he made an idiot of himself and Eddie just laughed at him? What if Eddie said no?

He wasn’t gonna say no, right?

What if Steve had misinterpreted the whole thing? What if Eddie has just been messing with him?

No. Eddie wouldn’t do that.

He was a little paralysed with his brain whirring like a hamster on a wheel. Eventually, around midday, he decided to make use of himself.

He went out. Went to the store. Flowers. He always got flowers when he asked someone out.

It was only when he walked out the store with a small bunch of red roses that he considered that Eddie Munson probably didn’t want flowers.

God, he was such an idiot.

Get your shit together, Harrington.

He went home, leaving the flowers in the back of his car.

He paced around his room, deliberated what blue polo shirt to wear, spent about an hour doing and re-doing his hair. He laid on his back in bed staring at his ceiling. Excitement was building up inside of him now, swirling together with the anxiety in him like a science experiment gone wrong.

He had made it to 6:30pm. By then he had decided on the navy polo with the white stripe, made his hair as perfect as possible, and drenched himself in cologne.

He grabs his keys and goes to his car.

It didn’t take that long to get to Gareths. He ended up driving around the block for an extra 15 minutes, before then heading towards Gareths. He then decided he didn’t want to look too eager, so took a wrong turn to take up a few extra minutes.

At 7:08, he pulls up outside Gareth's house.

The garage is open, and Eddie is standing there, his beloved guitar slung over his shoulder. He was wearing a red flannel, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, hands on his hips as he’s shouting something at the other three. He’s wearing his better fitting pair of black jeans, black bandana in his back right pocket, chain looping from his belt, boots tied loosely around his ankles.

Steve thinks his heart might fail.

Matty’s the one who spots him first. He blinks at him, nudging Eddie on the shoulder, who spins round, eyes widening when he spots him.

Then Gareth follows his gaze, eyes narrowing into a glare. Jeff’s brows furrow from where he’s sitting behind the dums.

Suddenly, all four of them were staring at him.

Thankfully, Eddie saves him as he turns round and barks something at them, Gareth rolling his eyes, Matty just nodding.

He unplugs his guitar from the amp, before he gives each of them a little handshake or a clap on the back. He spins round, taking his guitar off from around his shoulder and grabbing it by the neck, before half jogging towards the car.

“I’m not early, am I?” Steve asks, scratching the back of his neck as Edie flops down into the passenger seat, door slamming behind him. Steve feels some of his nerves alleviate just by him being there.

“Nah,” He shakes his head, carefully putting his guitar in the footwell behind his seat, not looking in the back. Too busy looking at Steve. “They were pissing me off anyway.”

Steve grins, starting the car and pulling away, Eddie waving exaggeratedly at his friends through the window before clicking his seatbelt on.

“I could tell,” He says, grin easy as he feels the tension melting away in his muscles, just leaving the quiet buzz of excitement. “They don’t like me.” He adds.

Eddie raises his brows. “No.” He says simply, leaning back in his seat. “Cus they don’t know you.”

Steves grin widens, softening a little.

“I know you and I still don’t like you, though, so.” Eddie shrugs, smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Steve scoffs a laugh. “Rude.”

“You know I'm only joking, Stevie.” He says fondly, tucking some hair over his shoulder.

Steve just can’t stop himself from smiling.

They go back to Steve’s place. Eddie grabs a beer from the fridge and flops down on his couch like he lives there. Steve doesn’t mind. Not at all.

After the movie, he’s thinking to himself. He’s gonna ask Eddie after the movie.

He pops the VHS tape in the player, play screen flickering on the TV, and he grabs the remote from the coffee table, pressing play before throwing himself down on the couch next to Eddie.

The opening scene flickers to life and Eddie props his legs up on top of Steve’s, as usual, and Steve’s arms rest on top of them, one hand on his knee, the other at his shins.

Steve asks questions, acting confused about how Jasons alive, and Eddie explains how it’s not Jason, it’s a different hockey mask killer, and scolds Steve for not paying attention. Steve just grins, enjoying Eddie’s little rants.

This movie is particularly gruesome. It gets to the kill where a guy is pinned to a tree with a belt around his eyes, and his skull is slowly crushed by the pressure. Steve stiffens, grimacing, and Eddie laughs at him, before excitedly pointing at the screen and trying to convince Steve that it’s ‘metal as hell’. Steve just furrows his brows and mutters something about Eddie being weird, to which Eddie replies by nudging him on the shoulder and saying thank you.

They get through the movie, shifting when they start to get uncomfortable or after Eddie goes to the toilet, but just coming back and leaning into Steve like he belonged there. Steve wanted him to belong there.

The film ends, and Eddie straightens up.

“So?” He tilts his head at Steve. “What did you think?”

Steve shrugs.

“It was pretty good.” He says casually, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “It was cool that it wasn’t Jason or whatever.”

Eddie grins, bright and enthusiastic. “I like how it’s psychological, y’know? Cus Tommy’s gone bonkers.”

Steve nods, giving a soft laugh.

Any time now.

What was he waiting for?

The perfect moment. He needed the perfect moment.

What even was that?

Come on, just spit it out, Harrington.

Eddie stood up, furrowing his brow as he sauntered over to the glass sliding door that leads out into the garden, peering out through the curtains.

Rainfall patters lightly down onto the patio, smacking against the glass rhythmically.

“It’s raining.” He says.

“Is it?” Steve forces out. Eddie doesn’t seem to notice the anxiety stewing inside him.

“Yeah.” Eddie shrugs, spinning round and walking past him, hands shoved into pockets. “It cool if I have another beer?” He calls from the hall.

“Knock yourself out.” Steve calls.

Steve, now alone in the living room, just buries his head into a cushion, and groans.

Get a grip.

Just say it.

It’s not that hard.

Everything he’d rehearsed has escaped his mind, now he was just left with a swarm of incoherent thoughts.

He hears the fridge slam shut and Eddie's light footsteps shuffle back down the hall, and Steve tosses the cushion away, laying down on his back on the couch, arms behind his head, plastering on the most casual look he could.

Eddie just reappears, beer in hand, picking up Steve's feet with one hand before flopping down on the couch, before dropping Steve's feet onto his lap.

“One movie left, Harrington.” He raises a brow, grinning as he brings the beer to his mouth. “After that, you get to stop hanging out with me.”

Say it, Steve. Say something.

“Thank god.” Steve scoffs. Eddie whacks him in the leg. Steve kicks him in retaliation.

“Is the last one any good?” He asks.

“Not really.” Eddie shrugs.

Steve snorts. “You’re really selling it to me.”

Eddie grins, gulping down a sip of beer. “You sat through that one. A New Beginning is the worst rated one.”

“I kinda liked that one.”

“That really shows your distinguished tastes, sweetheart,” He teases. “Really, you should have to go through some sort of film critic test before you get hired at Family Video.”

Steve pulls himself up, sitting, legs still thrown over Eddies lap. “I have excellent taste in films,” He argues. “You’re the one whose made me watch all these.”

“I didn’t make you,” Eddie raises a brow, smirking. “You did it voluntarily. Practically begged to, actually.”

“Begged?” Steve gives him a smirk of disbelief.

“Mh.” Eddie grins wolfishly. “‘Oh, Eddie, please spend time with me. I’ll do anything!’” He mocks in a high pitch tone.

“I don’t talk like that.” Steve gives him a playful shove.

Eddie snorts a laugh. “You’re not denying that you said it, though.”

Steve huffs, whacking Eddie again. Eddie whacks him back. Steve grabs his wrist. Eddie yelps.

“Careful! My beer, asshole.” He scolds. Steve just laughs.

Eddie grumbles, leaning forward to set his beer on the coffee table, before spinning back round to shove Steve back with both hands. Steve falls onto his back on the couch with an ‘oof’.

Eddie laughs, hysterical almost. Steve tries to sit up. Eddie shoves him back again. This time, Steve grabs his wrists, pulling him down with him.

Eddie lands with his hands either side of Steves head so their heads don’t smack together, torso twisted uncomfortably. Steves laughing, before he realises that Eddie is now just on top of him.

Eddie seems to realise this too, based on his eyes widening a fraction.

Steve doesn’t know what to do.

If he thought about it longer, maybe he would’ve kissed Eddie.

He didn’t.

He shoved Eddie away, and he tumbled awkwardly towards the floor with a yelp, grabbing the front of Steves shirt in an attempt to stay on the couch, instead dragging Steve to the floor with him.

They tumble, and Steves shoulder whacks into the coffee table with a harsh thunk.

Eddie sits up a little.

“You okay?” His brow knitted with concern.

Steves heart jolts.

He just grins.

“You’re getting it now, Munson.”

He lurches forward, hands going to Eddie's sides.

“NO!” Eddie yells.

Steve attacks his sides, tickling him. Eddie’s knees draw up, head throwing back, mass of dark curls spilling out on the floor around his head.

“Steve! Steve- stop!” He shouts, trying his best to sound annoyed but he’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe.

Steve, now knelt above him, thinks he's never liked anyone more in his entire life. He grins wildly, just looking down at him, and god, Eddies probably so pissed off at him right now. But he’s never felt more comfortable with someone. Never wanted anything as bad.

Eddie pushes up at his shoulders, and kicks him in the stomach. Steve retreats at the impact, falling back. Eddie sits up swiftly, grabbing Steve's wrists with an iron tight grip.

“Behave yourself.” He scolds, but his hair is messy and his cheeks are a little flushed from laughing so hard.

“Yes, sir.” Steve smirks, and Eddie just cocks a brow, sighing before releasing him.

He leans back against the couch, still catching his breath a little, a soft smile on his face as he stared forward. Steve crosses his legs, staring at Eddie.

Say something. Say it.

Come on Steve. Perfect moment.

But the words get lodged in his throat.

“You’re an asshole.” Eddie huffs, ruffling Steve’s hair as he drags himself back up onto the couch.

Steve looks away from him, forcing a smirk onto his face. He stares at his hands in his lap before standing, going over to the TV to eject the VHS tape and click it back into the box. He hears Eddie slurp on his beer behind him. He takes this moment to himself to curse himself.

He stands, and as he goes back to the couch, Eddie’s grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels on the TV.

“You have so many channels.” He comments in amazement, flicking through the variety of stations. Steve shrugs.

“Don’t know why my dad pays for them. Not like him and my mom are ever home to watch any of it.” He flops back down on the couch, throwing the VHS box on the coffee table before propping his feet up on it.

“We only have, like, three.” Eddie says, eyes still trained on the TV. “Back when I lived with my old man, we only used to have one. The horse racing. He couldn’t afford any others because he lost all his money betting on horse racing.” He says with a dry smirk.

Steve huffs a laugh. Sometimes Eddie says shit like that like it’s a joke. Steve never knows if he’s supposed to laugh. That one was sorta funny though.

Eddie gives him a side glance, grin widening.

“Hey! Voltron!” Eddie sits up excitedly when he flicks to a channel with the kids cartoon.

Steve snorts. “You like cartoons?”

Eddie glares at him. “I’m healing my inner child.” He says dramatically, beer sloshing ironically.

Steve just laughs again. He folds his arm, leaning a little into Eddie, who just flashes him a soft smile, as he leans back into the couch, softening against him.

Steve doesn’t mind watching Voltron. Not when Eddies ringed fingers had somehow ended up on Steves knee, tracing slow circles over his jeans, every now and again taking a slug of the beer in his other hand.

They talk about cartoons for a bit, Steve saying he watched Scooby doo as a kid, and Eddie snorting and saying Steve seemed like a Scooby doo kid. Steve just gave him a perplexed look.

Steve says something about how once when he was 10 he was left in front of the TV and his parents forgot about him until the next day when they came home, asleep in fetal position on the floor. Eddie added a story about when he was a kid he used to close his eyes and make up TV shows in his head and he’d watch them in his brain like they were real. Sometimes he forgot they weren’t so he’d ask kids at school about them and they’d look at him like he’s crazy.

They laugh about their strange childhoods.

Steve didn’t say it. He didn’t say anything. Every time he thought about it, the words would die in his throat.

Eddie didn’t seem to notice the tension. Not when he started flipping through channels again. Not when he eventually got bored and just left Seinfield on while they talked about their favourite foods, and Eddie started listing a bunch of foods he wanted to try, mostly fancy shit like caviar, and then he asks Steve if he could eat anything in the world what would it be. Steve shrugged and said ‘you’. Eddie quirked a brow and said ‘In your dreams, Harrington’ with a down right wolfish grin.

The sun set, sky already dark, rain now hammering down outside, the noise distant and calming beneath the quiet sounds from the TV.

They never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Steve thinks he could list every single one of Eddie's likes and dislikes from memory.

When the conversation lulled, one of Eddie’s knees now hugged to his chest, dark hair falling over his face a little, Steve stared at his profile.

He felt the words crawl up inside of him, like vomit rising in his throat.

Why can’t he do it?

God, get it fucking together, Harrington.

Eddie caught him staring, dark eyes big and wide and shining in the dim light, the flickering colours of the TV framing his face. A small smile tugged at his lips.

“What?” He asked gently.

Say it. Just do it. Ask. For fucks sake, Steve, just ask.

“Nothing.” He says quietly. Eddie just huffs a small laugh, shaking his head fondly, before his gaze flickers away again.

Eventually, Eddie checks his watch.

“Shit.” He mutters. “I told Wayne i’d be back by 11.”

Steves heart sank.

“What time is it?”

Eddie grins. “11.”

Steve huffs a laugh, ignoring the heavy feeling in his chest.

“Let’s get you home then.”

Eddie springs to his feet. Steve follows, and they leave the TV on as they go down the hall. They reach the door, and Eddie shoves his feet into his boots, tying the laces half heartedly.

Steve slips his sneakers on, the aching feeling seeping through his ribs.

He’d missed his chance. He didn’t do it. God, he was such an idiot.

“Do you want a jacket?” He asks as he swiped his keys up from the little table in the hallway.

“Nah.” Eddie shrugs. “I’ll just run to the car.”

And he did. As soon as Steve opened the door, Eddie pelted towards the car, arms above his head. Steve did him the favour of clicking the car open so he could jump in and hide from the rain. He locked his front door, before jogging towards the car himself, rain pelting down around him in the night.

He slips into the driver's seat, turning the ignition as the sound of rain pattering down on metal fills the car. Eddie grins at him, shaking his hair off a little.

Steve pulls away, and they fall into conversation.

“Why’s it raining in August, anyway.” He huffs, trying to shake off the horrible feeling inside. “It’s supposed to be hot.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not cold,” Eddie crosses his arms, staring out the window. “And it rains when it’s hot. Something to do with humidity.” He shrugs.

“Who made you so smart.” Steve smirks.

“I’m an intellectual, thank you very much.”

“You got kept back two years in highschool.” Steve says dryly.

Eddie glares at him. “The American education system couldn’t handle my wit.”

Steve laughs. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I sleep very well at night, knowing I'm a genius.” He says, leaning back in his chair, grinning smugly.

“You sure it’s not the weed?” Steve snorts.

“That’s just to ward off the nightmares.” Eddie explains, waving a hand.

Steve hums. “Maybe I need to try that.”

Eddie shrugs. “I could give you some.” He cocks a brow. “But I reckon the warm presence of a loved one would suffice.”

Steve raises his brows. “Yeah? And where do I find one of those?”

“I could give you my hourly rate.” Eddie grins, side eyeing Steve. Steve scoffs.

“You’re awful.”

“I know.” He grins wider.

Steve feels all warm and fuzzy and he almost forgot how nauseous he felt.

They keep driving and chatting, and about half way to Eddie’s place, there’s a particularly shitty road. They go over a pothole, and the car jolts. There's a thunk in the back, Eddies darling guitar.

Eddie, concerned, twists around, putting his head between the front seats to check on his guitar.

“Everything alright?” Steve furrows his brow out of casual concern.

Eddie’s frozen.

He stiffly moves back, fidgeting awkwardly with his rings.

“Who are those flowers for?” He asks quietly, voice scarily serious for Eddie.

Steve’s heart drops.

Shit.

The flowers. He’d forgotten about the goddamn flowers.

If anything, this was a perfect opportunity. Practically handed to him on a platter.

No. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t how he wanted it to go.

“A girl.” The words left his mouth before he’d even realised it. Before he’d even thought about what he was saying.

Eddie had gone deathly quiet.

Steve dared a glance at him. He was staring forward, expression painfully neutral.

God, Steve. What a fucking idiot. Say something. Anything.

“I- I mean, uh-“ He stammered. His heart had stopped. Or maybe it was beating so fast it felt like it had stopped. He felt ill.

“Pull over.” Eddie cut him off, voice sharp and low.

“What?” Steve breathes.

“Pull the fucking car over, Steve.” Eddie spits.

Steve doesn’t know what to do.

He pulls over, stopping the car at the curb.

Eddie throws the door open.

“Eddie, you’ll get soaked-“

The door slams shut.

Eddie has shoved his hands in his pockets and is just walking away from the car.

Steves grip tightens on the wheel.

He can heart his heartbeat in his ears. Everything felt distant, numbed by the panic and fear coursing through his body.

He was such a fucking idiot. Why can he never say the right thing?

What is he doing?

Come on, Harrington. Do something. Anything.

He throws the drivers side door open, stepping out into the heavy downpour, that immediately begins to soak him. The patter of rain against the pavement and nearby cars is immediately way too loud.

Eddie’s already practically soaked through. And he’s walking away.

“They were for you!” Steve calls, shouting so he can hear him over the rain. His heart hammers just as loud and just as hard as the rain.

Eddie stills.

Steve takes a few steps towards him, hair getting plastered to his forehead by the water, sneakers making wet slaps against the pavement, barely hears above the rain.

“They were for you, okay?” He calls again. He felt the tension in his body like it could snap and break him at any moment. “I’ve just… never asked a guy out before. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Eddie turns around.

His dark eyes look wide and hurt in the dim light of the streetlamp behind him. His mouth was a tight line, his brow tense. His dark hair was thinner now its wet, bangs plastered to his forehead.

He scoffs, a cynical smile spreading across his face.

“What, get bored of girls, Steve?” He calls. Steve frowns. “Decide to mess with the queer for fun?” He spits, sharp smile on his face but hurt in his eyes.

Steve steps forward. “No, what? No!” Steve argues. Eddie instinctively takes a step back. Steve's entire body ached.

“You don’t like guys, Harrington.” His smile fades, brows downturned. “You- you’re just fucking confused, or something.”

Steve felt like he’d been stabbed in the chest. Eddie turns back around, stepping away. Steve hurriedly walks towards him, until they’re a few feet away.

“Don’t tell me i’m fucking confused.” He says, voice low and firm.

Eddie freezes again, half turning back around, meeting Steve's eyes. Steve feels his stomach knot.

“I know exactly what I want.” He says, voice a little softer, still being loud enough to be heard over the rain.

Water pelts down on him, his jeans clinging to him, water pooling in his sneakers.

Eddie turns around fully again, crossing his arms to protect himself. His expression was sort of unreadable. Angry. Understandably so. But also with a lingering pain behind his eyes that made Steve hate himself.

“What’s that?” Eddie asks incredulously, ghost of a smirk on his face, like if he doesn’t make some sort of a joke out of this he’ll break.

“You.” Steve says without missing a beat. There you go, Harrington. Just needed a little adrenaline in you, now you find the words.

Eddie’s expression softens, just a fraction, but he looks unconvinced.

“I really like you, Eddie.” He almost pleads, stepping forward. Eddie stiffens, but doesn’t move away.

“I like the way you use your hands when you talk. I like the way you stick your tongue out when you’re concentrating. The way you fidget with your rings when you’re nervous,” Steves rambling now, all the words that were caught somewhere in his throat before now spilling out of him. “The way you wear that ring I gave you like it really means something to you.” Eddie’s expression softens ever so slightly, turning from angry and hurt to stunned surprise.

“The way you get so passionate about the shit you love. The way you don’t let fucking any one tell you who you’re supposed to be.” Eddie's gaze doesn’t stray from Steve. He looks like a deer in headlights. Steve just keeps talking. He can’t stop it now. He is ripping his heart out and handing it to Eddie, here on the street in the pouring rain.

“How you’re so thoughtful and caring, even though you act like you don’t give a shit. The way you twirl your hair when you’re bored. The way you’re eyes visibly fucking sparkle when you smile, I mean, how is that possible?” Steve scoffs a laugh, pushing down the aching inside of him that physically hurts. “The way you do that stupid snort laugh when you find something really funny. How you’re so fucking talented and incredible and you’re definitely way too humble.”

He gestures his hands out wildly, and Eddie’s still hugging himself tightly, like it would somehow protect him from the rain, his red flannel now soaked through.

“I mean, shit, Eddie, I could keep going!” Steve finishes, shoulders heaving a little as his breath is heavy and ragged.

Eddie swallows, glancing at his boots.

They’re quiet for a moment, just the chorus of the rain around them. Steve’s heart grows heavy.

“If…” He starts, but there’s something lodged in his throat. He pushes it down. “If i’ve got this all wrong… if you don’t like me like that, just- just say it, alright?” He forces out, hoping the rain disguises how he feels like he’s, pathetically, about to cry.

Eddie looks up at him then, eyes dark and wide and shimmering. He chews his lip, dark hair plastered to his face.

Then, he drops his arms, his line of defense.

Steve stares at him, furrowing his brows in confusion, the suspense killing him slowly as hurt creeps up inside him.

Eddie steps forward, grabbing him firmly by the face, one hand on each side of his jaw, and kisses him.

Steve's eyes widen in surprise, before they flicker shut.

It wasn’t like the first time he kissed Eddie Munson.

Drunk out his mind and clumsy, barely lasting two seconds.

This was long and firm and filled with heat. It was wet, due to them both being soaked through by the rain, but it was warm and inviting and suddenly made everything feel lighter. Steve felt a little weak in the knees, suddenly very light headed.

His hands found the back of Eddie’s shirt, fingers grasping at the wet fabric and pulling him closer, so their torsos were pressed together. Not close enough.

The metal of Eddie’s rings were harsh and cold against his cheek, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he sort of liked it.

Rain hammered down on the both of them, as they parted for barely a second before colliding their mouths back together, hungrier this time, like they’d both been waiting far too long.

Kissing Eddie Munson was not like kissing a girl. Eddie’s body was firm and rigid, not soft like a girls. Eddie's lips were a little chapped, despite the moisture of the rain. Eddie’s lips and hands were firm and sure, one hand moving back, fingers curling into Steve’s hair, the other trailing down to Steve's side, snaking around his back. Not like a girl.

One of Steve’s hands shift upward, fingers entwining in that mass of long, dark hair, hand at the back of Eddie’s head, now drenched hair bunching in his hand.

God, Steve liked it. It felt like fireworks going off in his chest. It felt like a missing puzzle piece clicking into place.

Eventually, Eddie pulls away, resting their foreheads together, rain pouring down around them but neither of them seemed to care. It seemed distant now, like him and Eddie were the only people in the world.

“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” He smiled softly, voice quiet now they could hear each other so close. Steve huffed a laugh, holding Eddie just a fraction tighter.

“I know.”

Eddie sighs, soft smirk lingering on his face.

“Does this mean you like me too?” Steve asks, grin on his face but a slight seriousness behind his question.

Eddie pulls back a little more, giving Steve an incredulous look.

“You just want to hear me say it, don’t you?” He asks dryly.

Steve nods.

Eddie sighs again.

“Yeah. I like you, Steve.” He says it looking straight in his eyes. Steve grins uncontrollably, making his cheeks hurt.

Eddie scoffs a laugh, but he’s smiling impossibly wider.

A beat passes.

“Can we go back to the car?” Eddie asks quietly. “I’m getting sorta cold.” He smirks.

Steves eyes widen. “Yeah, of course.”

He grabs Eddie’s wrist, pulling him towards the car. He laughs.

They throw open the doors to the car, climbing in and slamming the doors shut behind him.

Now, in the dry safety of the BMW, the rain slightly muted as it patters down on the windscreen, they were sitting, completely and utterly soaked.

Steve sighs, grabbing the wheel and thunking his head down on the wheel.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to go.” He grumbles. Eddie laughs softly.

“You’ve been planning this for a while, Harrington?”

Steve glances at him.

“I was gonna ask you. I got nervous.”

Eddie tilts his head, smirking. “Ask me what?”

Steve straightens up, sitting up too fast.

“Oh, shit. Okay, wait. I’m gonna do this properly.”

He twists his torso, reaching back into the backseat, grabbing the roses that had ever so slightly wilted from sitting in the back of his car all day.

Eddies eyes widen a little, gaze flickering between Steve and the flowers in his hands as he turns to look at Eddie.

“Eddie Munson,” He starts, grinning.

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie replies, voice a little apprehensive, cautious.

Steve's smile widens. Even now, he feels a little nervous. He chews the inside of his cheek.

“Will you allow me the greatest honour of being your boyfriend?” Is what he lands on saying.

It takes him great effort not to look away.

He’s glad he doesn’t.

Eddie’s brows shoot up, dark eyes wide, staring at him. His mouth opens a little, before closing again.

It might be because of the rain they just survived, but he goes a little pink.

He nods.

“Yeah.” He says. Steve laughs.

Every tension in his body eased, as his heart lightened, and the nausea slips away along with some of the adrenaline, just leaving behind the buzz of excitement.

Eddie Munson was his boyfriend.

Eddie clears his throat, awkwardly fidgeting with the silver dragon around his middle finger. Steve grins.

“I can’t believe you got me flowers.” He says eventually, teasing smirk on his face.

Steve shrugs. “I always get flowers. You don’t have to keep them.”

Eddie reaches forward, snatching the flowers out his hands. “No, fuck off, I want them.” He narrows his eyes.

Steve just laughs again.

Eddie distracts himself by poking at the petals, while Steve sighs, buckling his seatbelt.

“I gotta say, Stevie,” He begins, as Steve starts up the engine. It was now 11:36. Wayne had gotten used to Eddie not being on time, but Steve didn’t want to ruin his boyfriend's Uncles impression of him. “That was terribly romantic.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve pulls away. No one tells you how having pools of water in your sneakers makes it more difficult to drive. “We have my stupidity to thank for that rain rom-com moment.”

“Ah yes, thank you Steve Harrington's stupidity.” Eddie mocks, grinning. Steve snorts a laugh.

They drove for a minute in silence, letting the weight of everything that had been said settle over them, Steve grinning to himself as he drove.

“You left your guitar in the car.” He says.

“Hm?” Eddie hums.

“When you got out, to apparently walk home in the pouring rain. You left your guitar.”

Eddie shrugged. “You pissed me off. I forgot.”

Steve shoots him a little awkward look.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. You’ve made it up to me.” He grins, but it’s a little nervous.

“Yeah?” Steve asks quietly.

“Harrington, I forgave you the second you got out the car.”

Steve blinks. His heart does this funny warm thing.

“Well, you were really stubborn about it.”

“Always.” Eddie grins with a wink.

The rest of the drive is filled with comfortable chatter, Eddie complaining about how wet he is, Steve saying he tends to have that effect on people, and Eddie scoffs, whacking him on the arm.

Steve pulls up at the trailer park at 11:44pm. They just sat and smiled at each other for a beat.

“Right, well, uh.” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “I’ll see you…?”

“Tomorrow?” Eddie finishes, quirking a brow.

Steve smiles boyishly. “Yeah.”

Eddie nods, fond smile etched into his expression.

He reaches into the back, grabbing his sweetheart guitar, bringing it into the front seat awkwardly, clutching the neck of it and the flowers in one hand.

He goes to reach for the door handle, before hesitating.

He spins back round, reaching a hand out and holding Steves chin, kissing him again. Steve makes a little surprised noise, before melting into it, hand cupping Eddie’s jaw and tucking under wet strands of hair.

Eddie pulls away, grinning, as Steve looks at him with a soft, surprised smile.

“Bye,” He says quietly, before pushing the door open, slamming it shut behind him, before awkwardly running to his trailer door, trying to tuck his guitar and the flowers into his already soaked flannel shirt.

Steve watches him disappear inside, door closing behind him.

Steve, now alone, pumps his fist in excitement.

“Yeah!” He whisper-shouts to himself, smacking his hands on the wheel.

He’d done it.

Thanks to his own stupidity and anxiety, somehow, it had happened. And honestly? It went a lot better than he ever could have imagined it going. Dramatic. Romantic. Perfect.

He pulled out the lot of the trailer park, cranking the radio, singing along very off key to Head over Heels by Tears for Fears.

He swears he’d never been happier.

It’s still raining when he pulls up outside his house, just around midnight.

He gets out his car, not bothering to run to the door as he’s already soaked. He didn’t care about the rain anyway. He was too thrilled.

He locked the door behind him, switching off the TV in the living room that they’d left on, before trudging to the laundry room. He peels off the polo and struggles out of his wet jeans, throwing them in the washer, before now, in his boxers, heading up the stairs and to his room, where he changes out of them and into sweats and a clean t-shirt.

He threw himself onto his bed, deliberating as his hand hovering over the phone on his bedside table.

Robin needed to know.

He dialed her number.

It rang twice. Luckily, it was her that picked up, not her mom.

“Hello?” Her sleepy voice came through.

“Robin, It’s Steve.” He rushes out.

“Steve?” She audibly brightens up. “Oh my god, how did it go?”

“Well, Buckley,” Steve grins, laying back on his bed, phone pressed to his ear. “I am now a taken man.”

Robin gasps.

“Harrington! Way to go!” She whisper-shouts, probably trying not to wake up her mom.

Steve laughs. “What can I say? I’ve still got it.”

Robin snorts. “Sure, sure. Tell me what happened. I want deets.”

So Steve does.

He rolls onto his front, propped up on his elbows, twirling the cord of the phone around on his finger like a school girl.

He told Robin about his incompetence. How the whole evening he couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t find the right moment.

Robin made fun of him.

He told her about the pothole. About Eddie checking on his guitar. About him seeing the flowers he’d totally forgotten about.

About Steve, in his panic, and stupidity, said they were for a girl.

Robin groaned, calling Steve an idiot.

Steve said about how Eddie got out the car. How steve followed. About Steves big long confession. About how he was totally shitting himself. About how Eddie was mad but then he wasn’t mad and then he kissed him.

Robin gasped.

“Love confession in the rain? That’s textbook romantic.”

“It wasn’t a love confession,” Steve corrected. “It was a… like confession.”

“Sure, whatever, dingus.” She scoffed.

He told her about how Steve had asked him out, when they got back in the car. How Eddie said yes. How he dropped him home and then he kissed him again and now he’s here.

By the time Steve had finished his long winded explanation, it was around 1 in the morning. They discussed everything from how cute Robin thinks they are to what Steves gonna do next. They discuss the complexity of homosexual relationships, Robin giving her astute insight.

“God, i’m so happy for you Steve.”

“I’m happy for me too. I feel like a schoolgirl. Kicking my feet and stuff.”

Robin snorts.

“Alright, well. I need my beauty sleep, Harrington. This gorgeous face doesn’t come naturally.”

Steve laughs.

“Alright. I’ll see you Sunday.”

“See you Sunday, Romeo.”

She hangs up.

He sighs, lying back in bed, letting the warmth settle in his chest, the one that was light and fuzzy.

He was dating Eddie freaking Munson.
Boyfriend.
Eddie Munson is his boyfriend.
Steve lets the word settle, lets it nestle into all the parts of him that have felt cold and empty for way too long. His fingers dig into the fabric of his pillow as he thinks about it. Boyfriend. He’d get to call Eddie that. He’d get to hold his hand if he wanted, maybe not everywhere, not in this town, but still. He’d get to kiss him goodbye and goodnight and hello.

He lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh into the pillow. Christ, when did he turn into such a sap? But he doesn’t care. Not even a little bit.

He thinks about the way Eddie had looked at him, dark eyes shimmering in the dim light of the streetlamp, rain hammering down on them. Thinks about the way Eddie had kissed him like it said more than any word he could think of. Kisses him like he needed to.

He rolls onto his side, burying his face in his pillow.

It was strange.

He had a boyfriend.

He was used to the word being in relation with him.

Not who he was with.

He didn’t mind it, though. Not at all.

It was new and exciting and a little terrifying, but in the best way possible.

And it felt… right. Oddly, scarily right. Like something had slotted into place inside of him, something that had been dislodged for far too long.

He slept like a log that night, the adrenaline and excitement wearing off, leaving exhaustion in it’s place.

He slept with the warmth of knowing he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Chapter Text

Eddie slams the trailer door behind him, wide grin plastered on his face, dripping a puddle of water onto the floor.

He gently placed his precious guitar against the wall, and equally carefully put the stupid bunch of flowers on the floor next to it.

God, Steve was an idiot. A stupid, cute idiot.

He slips his feet out of his boots, socks relatively dry thanks to the waterproof nature of his leather boots. He left them by the door, grabbing his guitar by the neck and the flowers, before padding further into the trailer.

Wayne appears from his bedroom door, standing opposite Eddie with his arms folded.

“The hell have you been, Eddie?” He asks, voice gruff with tiredness. “Why’re you soakin’ wet?” He looks Eddie up and down, brow furrowed.

Eddie grins wildly. “You’ll never guess.”

“Guess what?” His eyes flicker down to the flowers in his hand, and his brow quirks. “What’re they for?”

“Steve asked me out.” He says plainly, casually, but the way he’s grinning like a kid on Christmas is giving him away.

Wayne's expression softens. His arms fall to his sides.

“He did?”

Eddie nods.

“Yeah.”

“So, when you told me he was just a friend and nothin’ was goin’ on…” There’s a vague, smug grin on his uncle's face.

Eddie shrugs. “Little white lie.”

Wayne raises a brow.

Eddie sighs. “I really like him, Wayne.” He says softly.

Wayne tilts his head, giving him a little downward smile. He steps forward, putting an arm out, before wrapping it around Eddie, giving his very soaked nephew with a guitar and flowers in his hands a very awkward hug. He pats Eddie on the head.

“If you’re happy, then… i’m happy for you kid.” He says quietly.

Eddie smiles.

“Thanks.”

He steps back, holding Eddie by the shoulders at arms length.

“As long as you’re safe, too.” He furrows his brows. “He give you any trouble, you tell me.”

Eddie scoffs. “He won’t.” He assures. “If he gives me any trouble, I'll kill him myself.”

Wayne grins, smacking him on the shoulders. “Atta boy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he’s got a big, fond smile on his face.

“Get yourself dry, you look like a drowned rat.” He says dryly as he disappears back into his bedroom.

“Thanks.” Eddie calls, before his uncle's bedroom door shuts.

Eddie grins, shaking his head, going to his room now. He hangs his guitar up on his wall, and leaves the flowers on top of his bedside table, before peeling off his soaked flannel and t-shirt, dumping them in a pile on his floor, throwing his wet jeans on top.

He changes into plaid pyjama bottoms, and the t-shirt he’s been sleeping in for the past week. He pads barefoot to the bathroom, dabbing his hair dry on a towel, and heads into the kitchen, grabbing a chipped glass and filling it halfway with tap water.

Back in his room, he puts it on his bedside, ripping the brown paper off the red roses and shoving the stems messily into the glass.

He grins to himself. Steve had bought him flowers. That’s so stupid. Why would he buy him flowers? It was sweet though. Incredibly so.

He rubs his hair again with the towel still around his neck, before throwing it on his floor, and getting into bed, sprawling out under the covers.

He lays there, rain still pattering against the window, moonlight cutting through his room as he stares up at his yellowish ceiling.

Steve Harrington.

Steve fucking Harrington.

The guy who’d, realistically, he’d had a fat crush on since he watched the guy tear his shirt off and dive into a lake. The guy he’d tried to self sabotage by encouraging him with Nancy. The guy who’d then saved his god damn life.

The guy he’d spent ever since internally pining over, though he didn’t admit it to himself until later. The guy with his perfect hair and his stupid smile, and his bravery that bordered on stupidity. The guy who wasn’t the douchebag he used to know, but an absolute sweetheart.

The guy who was so unbelievably nice to him. The guy Eddie would’ve dropped everything for. The guy Eddie had, apparently, turned gay. The guy who he’d gotten to know over the last month, who he’d become inseparable with, discovering deeper and darker crevices of his mind, every new fact or story treasured like gold.

The guy who Eddie had a bad feeling he would find falling in love with very easy.

Steve goddamn Harrington.

Was his boyfriend.

Asked to be his boyfriend.

Eddie had never had a boyfriend before. Never been in a relationship. He was nervous. He didn’t quite know what he was supposed to do.

He’d figure it out.

It was almost funny. Ironic, even. Two polar opposite people who made fun of each other in highschool, the prom king and the freak, come together through world ending circumstances, discovering they had a lot more in common than they thought.

And apparently, falling for each other.

Eddie fell asleep with a warmth creeping up inside of him, one that was unfamiliar but welcomed.

It was exciting, new.

Comforting.

Someone liked him enough to want to be with him.

Really liked him, apparently.

He thought about Steve in the rain, perfect hair wet and plastered to his face, look of pure panic and pleading in his face, looking like a damn kicked puppy.

Listing all the things he liked about Eddie.

All the small things. Things he didn’t know anyone had noticed.

Steve noticed.

Steve saw him and liked him. Every bit of him.

It made him feel a little vulnerable. Seen. He didn’t mind.

He likes every bit of Steve, too.

He thinks about the way Steve had kissed him back like he wanted it more than anything else in the world.

It made his stomach flip.

Him and Steve.

He fell asleep with the thought of Steve Harrington and his perfect smile and perfect hair and imperfect life.

And that, apparently, Steve was his.