Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

So.

The thing is - Steve Harrington is completely oblivious. It’s like he’s blind, but with his brain. Brain-blind. Eddie’s been flirting with him for weeks, months, now. Ever since the Upside Down, he’s been practically throwing himself at the guy. But Steve. Does. Not. Notice. And it’s kind of killing Eddie. How many times can you call a dude metal before he notices what you’re playing at? He’s been this close to giving up multiple times, but Buckley has encouraged him to continue trying, being slightly more aware of obvious social cues than Steve, apparently. Eddie had actually been sure the opposite was true. Maybe Steve just doesn’t know lovesickness when he sees it.

Whatever. Basically, Eddie’s run out of ideas at this point. He’s practically thrown everything at the wall. Nothing sticks. It’s not his fault the dude seems to be about as observant as a freaking stone. Not that he’s not charming - God, is he charming. Sometimes when Steve talks to him, Eddie feels like he’s levitating, hands clasped together under his chin and hearts for eyes, like a cartoon.

He has to come up with a good game plan. He can’t take this anymore, can’t walk around like this forever. Ugh. To think his fate is to follow Steve Harrington, of all people, around like a lost puppy. What has the world come to? Has Eddie the Freak fallen so far from grace? Apparently. Oh, how Dustin would laugh at him if he knew of his current predicament.

He’s, in fact, currently following Steve around, around and around the shelves at Family Video. Steve’s dusting off the shelves no one ever looks through. Documentaries, history, other boring shit like that. Unfortunately musicals also belong to this category, according to Family Video customers. Pfft. Have they no taste? Eddie loves musicals. They get an unnecessarily bad rep. How can anyone dislike Hairspray? 

Steve’s using a bright pink feather-duster, dragging it along the top of the tapes, and it looks so sweet, Eddie thinks. Sort of goofy. Steve’s sort of goofy. Charming, strong, capable, but not exactly known for being smart. Sort of jock-y, but in a good way. God, that’s Eddie’s type, isn’t it? Yeah. It totally is.

Steve turns another shelf corner and Eddie dutifully follows, hands held behind his back. They’re in the horror aisle now. Oh, this is right up Eddie’s alley. If there’s an expert, someone with a PhD in horror movies, it’s Eddie. He could probably write an entire encyclopedia on the genre. If he had the ability to concentrate on one thing for that long. 

”Man, if I had unlimited money I’d rent all of these and binge them,” he says behind Steve. Steve looks back at him over his shoulder, a questioning expression on his face. 

”Really? I can’t stand scary movies. They give me the heebie-jeebies,” he says. Eddie almost facepalms. He’s fallen for the only man ever who doesn’t like watching scary movies. Of course he has. Wait, heebie-jeebies? Seriously?

”Heebie-jeebies? Okay. One, people over the age of seven don’t get ”heebie-jeebies”, and two, Steve, dude, you know why people watch horror movies, right? To get scared. That’s the entire point.” He looks deep into Steve’s eyes. They’re a really nice hazel. Eddie sort of dreams in hazel nowadays. 

”Well, duh. I know. I’m not that dumb. I just get more scared than normal, more well-adjusted people do,” Steve replies and stretches his arm to dust off the very top of the shelf. Oh wow, he doesn’t even have to stand on his tiptoes, Eddie notices. That’s kind of… hot. Eddie’s not even that much shorter than Steve, maybe just an inch or two, but still. Hot. 

”I wouldn’t say you’re not well-adjusted,” Eddie says, ”you’re one of the less bad-adjusted people I know. I’m mostly comparing you to myself here though. Only one of us got witch-hunted by an entire town who believed them to be a serial killer and leader of a satanic cult. Most people would say the one who did get witch-hunted is the bad-adjusted one.”

”Yeah, well, maybe you’re overestimating me.” Steve turns around and points the duster in Eddie’s face. Dusts off his nose gently. It tickles. ”At least you haven’t had to fight off increasingly more powerful alternate dimension monsters every year since ´83.” Eddie huffs. Grabs the duster from Steve’s hand and turns it around on him, swiping it all over his face. Steve laughs and puts his hands in front of his face. His laugh is so contagious, so Eddie joins him in it. Steve puts a hand around Eddie’s wrist to yank the duster out of his grip with the other. His hand is warm and big. Eddie tries to document the feeling, store it in a file and put it away in his brain for safe-keeping. 

”I don’t think you can blame me for not exactly loving scary movies after all that,” Steve says once he lets go of Eddie’s wrist, much to Eddie’s dismay. Steve is more than welcome to hold Eddie’s wrist tight, maybe even both wrists, whenever he wants. Wherever he wants. 

”Alright, alright. I’d just like to make you aware that you’re missing out, dude. You’re disregarding an entire genre, the single most important genre, I would argue. It must be a sad existence, living without witnessing the wonders of the world,” he says. Steve scoffs at him, makes a tssk sound and goes back to dusting off the VHS tapes. Eddie looks on, mostly at Steve’s biceps. The Family Video work clothes really accentuate them. Not that they need accentuating in the first place. He’s thought multiple times about straight up grabbing Steve’s arms and fawning over them, just to get Steve to notice his flirting. Knowing Steve, though, he probably still wouldn’t catch on. Eddie sighs quietly. He’s doomed. Doomed to follow this man around like a schoolgirl with a crush for the rest of time. Maybe he’ll still be floating behind Steve when they’re in the afterlife. 

Then he gets a brilliant idea. An amazing idea. The idea of a century. 

He could use this to his advantage. If blatant flirting doesn’t work, then damn it, he’ll make scary movies do the heavy lifting. That’s what guys do, right? Show horror movies to girls they like, to get them to squeal and sit closer to them for protection from the spooky bad guys on screen. If Steve’s really that scared of horror movies, he’ll probably do the same as those girls. Well, maybe. There’s a chance. A little one. Eddie thinks he could be Steve’s knight in shining armor. If it got Steve to sit close to him, maybe even lean into him. 

”I´m going to make you like horror movies,” he tells Steve. Steve stops in his tracks and turns to Eddie, surprised. 

”What? What do you mean, make me?” He tilts his head like a puppy. His fluffy fringe falls over one of his eyes with the movement. Cute. Eddie really, really loves Steve’s hair. He often wonders how it would feel in his hands, if it would be as soft as it looks, or if he would be able to feel the hairspray on his fingers. Eddie’s heart skips a beat. A few beats. A couple more. Is this what cardiac fibrillation feels like? Maybe he’s having a heart attack. He should ask Buckley to call an ambulance for him.

”You and me are going to watch a couple. I’ll hand-pick them, ease you into it, we´ll start with a tame one,” Eddie answers once his heart stops having an episode, already planning what movies to show Steve. Maybe Halloween? Oh, The Thing is good too. And Poltergeist. ”I’m going to corrupt you, turn you over to the dark side, if you will. I will turn you into a horror movie connoisseur.”

”Uh, Eddie, no. No way. Uh-uh.” Steve crosses his arms, furrows his eyebrows. At first Eddie thinks he’s irritated, but he’s not, he notices when he studies Steve’s face closer. He’s amused. Eddie can work with amused. He takes a couple steps toward Steve, puts his fingertip in the middle of his chest, taps once with each word; 

”Friday. 8PM. My place. You bring pizza.” Steve laughs at him, throws his head back. Gives Eddie a really nice view of his throat. Eddie’s really close right now, if he just reached out he could trace Steve’s neck from his jaw to his clavicle with his fingertips. Would his skin feel really smooth? Probably. It looks smooth. It would probably feel even nicer if it was slightly sweaty- 

Focus, Eddie. God. He shakes his head. Slaps his cheeks with both hands a couple times.

”And what makes you think I’ll show up?” Steve asks with a smirk. Eddie returns it. 

”Why, because you desperately want to come back to my place after dark, Steve,” he says, winking. Steve, as usual, doesn’t catch on. He just waves his hand, waves the comment away like dust with his pink feather-duster. Eddie almost wants to frown. Goddamnit, what does it take for this man to notice? At this point it feels like he’s just pretending not to. Eddie very much hopes that isn’t the case. That would be pretty embarrassing.

”Well, um, I am very much not coming,” Steve tells him, ”I’m not going to be ”corrupted”, or whatever. You’ll have to keep your spooky shit to yourself, Eddie.” Eddie does frown. He lets his whole hand join his finger, flat against Steve’s chest, and pushes him gently. Steve takes a few exaggerated steps backwards, pretends to lose his balance. 

”I´m offended, dude. Don’t you want to spend time with your second best friend in the whole world?” Eddie asks sarcastically. 

”Of course I do. Dustin and I talk all the time,” Steve says with a small laugh. Eddie crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at him, fakes being offended. Okay, maybe he actually is a tiny bit offended. Jealous.

”Ha ha. Yeah, just keep knocking me down, why don’t you,” he says, turning his head to the side and wiping a fake tear. Steve reaches out and removes Eddie’s hand from his face to stop him. Maybe he actually thinks Eddie´s crying. Surely not. He holds it in his for a few seconds before letting go. Eddie feels like his nerves are going haywire. His hand betrays him and his fingers twitch a little, moving toward Steve’s hand as it retreats, but he manages to stop and puts his hands in his pockets.

”Kidding, Eddie. You two are like, tied for second place. None of you hold a candle against Robin, though.” Buckley laughs from where she’s standing at the counter. Eddie looks at her over Steve’s shoulder and sticks out his tongue at her. She returns the gesture. Steve looks at them back and forth, laughs at them under his breath. Rolls his eyes. 

”Well, if you do come, bring Nightmare on Elm Street with you. I saw it on the shelf. Back there.” Eddie points with a thumb over his shoulder to the part of the shelf behind him. Searches Steve’s face for tells. He wants Steve to want to come, wants that to be written on his face. He can’t tell if it is, though. Can´t read it well enough.

”Is that the one with the dude who has knives for hands? Man, I saw him on a poster outside the theatre when that movie premiered. Haunted my dreams that night,” Steve says, and Eddie giggles. 

”That’s sort of what he does in the movie, actually,” he replies, and Steve’s face falls. He looks genuinely alarmed. Like he thinks he might have actually been haunted by Freddy Krueger himself. In the flesh. His eyebrows are raised and his eyes wide. Then he recovers, face turning softer, sort of amused, like before. Is that a smirk?

”Way to spoil the movie,” he says smugly, ”now I don’t even have to watch it.” Ah. That’s why he looks like that. He thinks he´s found a way to avoid watching it. As if Eddie would give up that easily. Nope. He does get a little panicked though. Rattles his brain for reasons Steve should still watch it. With him. At his place. 

”Yes you do!” He almost yells. Doesn’t intend on Steve getting such an easy out. ”You have to know how it ends! There’s no way for you to know without watching it,” he continues, volume slightly more controlled. 

”Let me guess. The main characters defeat the big bad through the power of friendship, he dies, and they live happily ever after,” Steve replies. Eddie smirks. Oh, Steve. How gullible of you. That’s not what happens at all. 

”Nope,” Eddie says. ”You have no idea what’s coming to you.” He taps Steve on his chest one last time, a bit harder than before. Then he walks past him, walks along the aisle toward the exit. He drags a finger over the top of the VHS tapes on one of the lower shelves. Collects dust on his fingertip.

”You have some dusting to do, Steve,” he teases, and blows the dust off his finger in Steve’s direction. 

Chapter Text

Nightmare on Elm Street is not that good of a movie. Eddie knows that. But he didn’t have that many to choose from, okay? The Family Video stock of horror movies isn’t exactly expansive. Or well-curated. He has to work with what he’s got. Besides, Nightmare on Elm Street is, for what it´s worth, actually a good introduction to horror movies. For people who are unreasonably scared of them. Like Steve is, apparently. He practically had to ask Steve to bring that one.

Eddie’s sitting on his couch, bouncing his leg up and down. Chewing on his nails, chipping the nailpolish. The clock is about to strike 8PM, and with every minute, the chance of Steve actually showing up is becoming smaller and smaller. What if he really doesn’t? Oh my God, Eddie would never be able show his face again. He’d have to barricade himself in his room and never come out. The humiliation. His leg bounces even quicker. Jesus, he even kind of dressed up for Steve. Hellfire shirt discarded for a black loose tank top with Cirith Ungol on it. Not the tower, the band. His arms aren’t exactly buff like Steve’s, but he hopes tattoos are Steve’s thing. Doesn’t know why they would be though - Nancy wasn’t exactly heavily tattooed. If Steve’s dating history is anything to go by Eddie should probably put on a long sleeved shirt instead. Should he do that right now? No. He’ll commit to the tank top. What’s life without taking a couple risks, right? 

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t hear the first couple knocks on the camper door. He hears the fifth one though, and almost flies off the couch, closing the distance to the door in just four steps. He takes a deep breath with his hand on the door handle. Opens the door. And there he is. Steve. Steve, with a VHS in his right hand and a pizza box in his left. Smiling brightly at Eddie. Eddie thinks he might need to invest in sunglasses. If Steve’s planning on dressing up as the sun all the time he might need sunscreen, too.

”You came,” he says, almost a bit shy, returning Steve’s smile with a weak one of his own. 

”Yeah, I did. I thought, what’s life without taking a couple risks, right?” Eddie nods, Steve echoing his own earlier thoughts. It warms his heart a little. He moves aside, bows to Steve.

”Welcome, to my humble abode,” he says in a posh British accent. Well, what he thinks is a posh British accent, anyway. Steve smiles at him and steps up the short camper stairs. Eddie backs away to the other side of the cramped hallway and looks at Steve as he puts down the box of pizza on the kitchen counter. When Steve turns from the counter to look at him, he holds up the VHS. Nightmare on Elm Street. He actually rented it. Eddie’s cheeks feel warm. He hopes they don’t look warm, too. Hopes they don’t betray him. They usually do. Damn snitches.

”I didn’t know what kind of pizza you liked, so I just got my favorite. I hope you like it anyway,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck. He stands there a little awkwardly. He’s never been here under other circumstances than we are going through a portal to another dimension which just so happens to be located in Eddie’s camper, so it must be weird for him to see it in its… Well, normal state. 

”Oh, I probably will, I like most kinds of pizza,” Eddie replies, walking up to Steve and opening the pizza box. Sees pineapple. Jesus H. Christ, Steve. He fakes a smile and tells Steve that it’s perfect, thank you for bringing it, can’t wait to eat it. Bleugh. Of course Steve would like pineapple on pizza. 

”Just sit down, man, I’ll set up everything,” he tells Steve. Steve puts the pizza on the side table in front of the couch sits down at the side closest to the wall, a little stiff. God, Eddie just wants this awkward phase to be over. He sort of wishes they would have watched the damn movie in the back of Family Video, or something. He squats in front of the TV and stretches his hand out toward Steve, who gives him the VHS. Eddie puts it in the VCR. Puts a book on top of it. It’s janky, and only works if there’s a weight placed on it. He would replace it if he had the money. This one’s from a charity shop in Indy, and it was still expensive as hell. 

The previous customer, luckily, had the courtesy to actually rewind the tape before returning it, so Eddie doesn’t have to spend an eternity doing it himself. He presses the play button and the preview starts playing. He doesn’t want Steve to know anything about what happens though, so he fast-forwards it until the title screen flashes by. Rewinds it just a tiny bit to get it right. Bingo. He goes to sit on the opposite end of the couch from Steve. Wishes he had the courage to sit closer. 

”Wait, he doesn’t actually have knives for hands?” Steve asks half a minute in. Eddie turns looks at him and smirks.

”No, Steve, his hands are not actually made out of kitchen utensils.” Steve is already enraptured, judging by his facial expression and him leaning forward toward the TV. Eddie leans an arm against the armrest, puts his cheek in his hand. Watches Steve more than he watches the movie. He knows the first scenes word for word anyway. 

Five minutes in, Steve comments; ”Dude, she thinks Jesus is going to save her from Mr. Knife-Glove Man?”

Ten minutes; ”Man, that guys a fucking creep. Please tell me they’re not actually together? Why are her friends just letting him be all creepy with her like that? Eddie, is this creep propaganda?”

Twelve minutes; ”See? Told you, Jesus has nothing on this guy.” Okay, Steve has a lot of thoughts, apparently.

Fourteen minutes; ”Oh my God what the fuck is that?” Eddie’s patience starts growing thin. At least Steve’s focused on the movie, he thinks, that’s good.

Fifteen minutes; ”Is she freaking stupid? Why the hell would you walk towards the obvious threat!” Okay, this is getting a bit much now. 

Sixteen minutes; ”Eddie, man, what the fuck is wrong with his arms? Why are they like that? I do not like that at all. Goddamnit, that’s burned into my retinas now.” Jesus H. Christ, does Steve always talk this much when watching movies? How does Buckley put up with this?

Seventeen minutes; ”Oh my God, Eddie, Eddie, what the fuck? What the fuck!? Why the fuck would you show me this! Eddie, you said this was tame! This is very decidedly not tame! Jesus Christ, does the human body even have that much blood in it? That’s like, five gallons!” Eddie´s patience isn’t just thin now, it’s non-existent. He puts on a stiff smile, teeth almost grinding against each other. Turns back to Steve, who is holding his hands over his eyes, peeking through his fingers. His fingers are shaking slightly. 

”Steve, do you mind not sharing every single thought that pops up in your head?” He asks through his teeth. Steve smiles sheepishly at him. 

”Sorry, dude. Just… I think that’s how I cope with this.” Oh, that makes Eddie sort of feel like a monster. Worse than little old Freddy, actually. He’s the one who practically forced Steve to watch this with him. Well, not really. Steve did come on is own accord. But still. He doesn’t want Steve to apologize, what if he doesn’t want to watch any more movies with him now? Fix this now, he tells himself.

”No, no, don’t apologize, man. I´m sorry. I forgot this is way more scary to you than it is to me. You can talk all you want, Steve.” He tries to smile at Steve reassuringly. Isn’t sure if it works. Maybe he just looks crazed from the guilty feeling settling deep in his stomach. 

”You sure? I can shut up if you want.”

”No, please don’t. I’ll get used to it. I’m just used to watching movies alone.” Oh sweet Jesus, that came out more pathetic than he intended. Way to out yourself as a loser, Eddie. Hopefully Steve doesn’t think he is. On the TV, Heather Langenkamp is reacting way too mildly to the violent death of her on-screen best friend, and Eddie points at the screen to get Steve to continue watching. He leans back against the couch and watches as Steve pulls his knees close to his body and hides the lower half of his face behind them. It looks really endearing. 

Eddie leans forward over the side table and eyes the pizza suspiciously. He doesn’t want to be rude and not eat any of it, he’s the one who asked Steve to bring pizza, but he also doesn’t want to ingest potentially life-threatening combinations of condiments. Like pineapple on pizza. Steve looks at him, and Eddie can see him frowning out of the corner of his eye.

”Dude, you don’t like it, do you?” He asks, voice all sad and defeated. Oh God, no, Eddie decides, he doesn’t ever want to hear Steve use that tone. His heart is too frail. It will break like glass, as if some kid kicked a football through it, if he hears Steve’s voice sound like that again.

”No, it’s totally fine man! Just not my typical order,” he replies, and takes a slice of the pizza. Starts eating it demonstratively. Hides his disgust expertly, if he does say so himself. Steve smiles and reaches over to grab a slice for himself. Eats it in, like, three bites. At least he looks happy eating it, Eddie thinks, that’s something. He can get some second-hand enjoyment out of that. 

When he finally finishes the slice of public health hazards, Eddie turns to lean his back against the armrest and throws his legs up on the couch, stretching his feet toward Steve. He almost reaches all the way. Isn’t brave enough to actually touch him. He’s perfectly fine touching Steve otherwise, but right now it feels too intimate. It’s them being at his place. It makes everything feel way more personal. He can’t separate shy Eddie with a crush from outwardly confident Eddie with a crush, his persona who can practically hang over Steve without feeling any embarrassment. Here, in the camper, only shy Eddie shows his face. Confident Eddie hides. Damnit. 

Then, Steve shifts position, sits closer to the middle of the couch, and Eddie’s feet get in the way, end up uncomfortably under his thigh. So he lifts them up and puts them in his lap. Puts an arm over Eddie’s shins. Eddie feels his whole body flush red. Steve’s arm burns him through his jeans, further proof that Steve might, in fact, be the sun. Eddie does feel like he´s flying too close sometimes. If Steve’s the sun, then he’s Icarus reincarnate. 

Steve doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, and doesn’t seem to notice Eddie melting down on the inside just beside him. Eddie doesn’t know what to do - remove his legs and hopefully avoid third degree burns, or keep them there, in Steve’s lap, and revel in the feeling of Steve’s body against his. He decides to stay put. Yeah. This is what’s supposed to happen, after all, this was his plan, get Steve to notice-

”Dude, you’re so tense. Are you sure you’re not scared shitless too?” Steve asks right in the middle of Eddie’s train of thought. He rubs his thumb over Eddie’s shin as if to soothe him, and Eddie’s whole leg twitches. 

”Not at all. Who do you think you’re talking to here? I’m Eddie, horror movie fanatic, lover of all things spooky,” he tells Steve after a couple moments, and Steve laughs. It’s nice to see him relax a bit. Eddie was starting to worry Steve would spend his whole time here being completely miserable. That would probably have meant that Eddie would spend the rest of his life being completely miserable. Freddy´s knife-adorned glove rises above the water in the tub on the TV, and Steve yelps. He jumps a little, and pulls on Eddie’s legs as he does. Eddie gets dragged away from the armrest and ends up with his head flat on the cushion, legs bent against Steve’s lap. 

”Sorry, dude,” Steve apologizes, and looks a little embarrassed. Eddie doesn’t know if he’s embarrassed of getting scared or embarrassed because he dragged half of Eddie’s body onto himself. Probably the latter, he decides. He wishes Steve would do that without feeling embarrassed about it. Like, on the regular. He shakes his head.

”Nothing to worry about. I can still see the TV from here,” Eddie replies, ”think I’ll just stay.” He stretches out his legs, reaching all the way over Steve’s lap now, both of Steve’s arms held over them. He tries not to let all the blood in his body work together paint his cheeks red, but his body, predictably, betrays him. Steve doesn’t notice. Or at least, Eddie doesn’t notice if he notices. Steve nods stiffly and goes back to watching the TV. 

Eddie’s neck starts to hurt from the weird angle, with him having to turn his head completely to the side to see the screen. Steve notices and leans forward, grabs a pillow from behind his back. He leans over Eddie (oh my God) and waits for him to lift his head, which Eddie does. Steve puts the pillow under his head and leans back to sit down again. He starts moving his thumb in circles on one of Eddie’s knees.

Eddie can’t even muster up a thank you, his heart racing. He’s not sure he would be able to get words out at this moment. At least not without them being a jumbled mess. So he keeps his mouth shut. He turns to lie on his side, neck at a more comfortable angle. Especially with his Steve-supplied pillow. It smells a bit like Steve’s cologne. Sandalwood. Eddie wonders if the other pillows will too. Maybe he’ll switch his bedroom pillows out for them. Wait, isn’t that kind of creepy? Man, is he glad Steve can’t read his thoughts. He can’t, right? Oh God, what if the Upside Down gave him some freaky telepathy powers? No, surely not. He’d have known about it by now if that were the case. He peers at Steve, searches his face for telepathy power-having tells. There are none. Good. He can switch out the pillows in peace, and it’s no one’s business but his. 

After a while, Eddie’s eyelids start to feel heavy, and holding them open takes more and more effort. Steve’s arms on his legs don’t help, only lulls him further into half-sleep. He tries to focus on the motion, Steve’s thumb still softly rubbing circles through Eddie’s jeans. It’s repetitive, it feels like counting sheep, and Eddie’s face sinks deeper and deeper into the pillow. He dozes off.

”Boo!” Steve suddenly grabs his legs hard with both hands, sinks his fingers into the denim fabric, and shakes them roughly. Eddie gasps, jumps, almost kicks Steve, and looks around quickly. Steve laughs loudly at him. ”Ha! Knew you could be scared,” he says, looking all smug and pleased with himself. Eddie huffs and sits up.

”That doesn’t count,” he says, ”I was asleep.”

”Barely.”

”Barely sleeping is still sleeping.” Eddie turns to look at the TV. They’re nearly at the end of the movie. How long was he out for? It felt like he only slept a couple minutes.

”This does not feel right,” Steve comments when everything goes back to being all fine and dandy on Elm Street. Eddie smirks and looks at him through the corner of his eye, sees Steve hyperfocused on the screen. As Heather Langenkamp enters the car, he practically screams for her not to do it. ”It’s such an obvious trap. It’s so obvious. How does she not realize? Eddie? Is she dumb?” He rants. When the car roof closes, covered in red and green stripes, he stands up from the couch, all but throws Eddie’s legs off him, and waves his hands up in the air. ”I told her so! I told you so!” He shouts at the TV, and Eddie outright laughs at his antics. He knew Steve would be this animated once he got into the movie. Steve turns around and grins at him. Then the credits roll and Steve’s jaw drops. 

”Wait. That’s it? That’s how it ends? Seriously?” He questions, puts his face in his hands. ”All my suffering was in vain. I suffered through an hour and a half of psychological warfare for it to end like that?” Eddie chuckles at him. Steve walks to the VCR, squats down and pushes the eject button. Puts the VHS in its case and stands up again. ”Well. That was something.”

”Sure was,” Eddie replies, ”what did you think? You going to be able to sleep?” Steve fake-shivers.

”Barely.”

”Barely sleeping is still sleeping,” Eddie says again, this time with a wink in Steve’s direction. He hopes Steve will be able to sleep more than just barely, though. Wants him to have sweet dreams and everything. Steve walks past him and quickly puts on his jacket and shoes, opens the camper door. Eddie feels a bit like Steve’s running from him the moment he gets his chance. Does he want to leave that bad? 

”Are you in a hurry or something?” He asks, and Steve stops, right foot on the first step of the stairs. 

”Well, no, just thought I’d get out of your hair. I’m sure I’ve annoyed you enough for one night.” Eddie furrows his eyebrows. 

”You didn’t annoy me at all,” he replies, looking intently at Steve who jumps down the last few steps, lands on the grass with a little thump. Eddie goes to lean against the doorframe, looks down at Steve where he’s standing on the grass at the bottom of the short stairs. He’s lingering, Eddie notices. Doesn’t make any move to walk away. Like he doesn’t want to leave yet. Eddie´s heart beats an extra time, thinking about Steve wanting to stay, rather than wanting to get out of there as quick as possible. He has to will it not to jump out of his chest. 

”You sure?” Steve asks him, and his eyes look like they’re glowing, light from the doorway reflecting in them. Eddie nods and tries to look as sincere as possible. Steve looks down at the ground and kicks at the dry grass with his sneaker, arms crossed in front of him, rubbing his upper arms to warm himself up. It’s cold out, that raw, middle-of-the-night coldness you only get in fall, the cold that bites. Steve’s only wearing a thin windbreaker. Eddie frowns at him, and Steve looks back at him, confused.

”What?” He asks, voice a bit worried. Eddie just shakes his head.

”Aren´t you cold, man? You look like an icicle,” Eddie says, turning around to look through the jackets hanging by the door. 

”No, no, I’m fine. I drove here, I’ll warm up in the car.” Eddie ignores him. Picks out one of Wayne’s jackets, fleece. Wayne can manage without it for a couple days. He turns to the open door again and throws the jacket without warning at Steve, who catches it with ease. Damnit. Damn kind-of-jocks and their… athletic-ness. It shouldn’t be allowed to be attractive. Not to Eddie, at least. He looks down at his feet.

”Put it on. I don’t want to be responsible for Steve Harrington freezing to death. Another murder allegation would not be good for the Munson image,” he jokes, and looks back at Steve who is already zipping up the jacket. His cheeks look a bit flushed. Must be the warmth from the jacket. Already? Yeah. Must be. 

”Well, I’ll, um, leave now, I guess,” Steve stammers, putting his hands in his pockets. Eddie nods. Then he smirks. 

”Buh-bye, Stevie!” He exclaims, and blows Steve a kiss. Steve laughs and catches it in his hand. 

Chapter Text

Eddie enters Family Video bright and early in the morning the next Friday. Buckley greets him with a smile, and punches Steve on the shoulder where he’s sitting behind the counter, head flat on the countertop. Sleeping. 

”We don’t really get any customers at 8:30,” Buckley says, and punches Steve again when he just shifts farther away from her. Ducks her head down and whispers something in his ear. Steve’s head shoots up, his cheek all red from being pressed against the wood, hair all messed up on one side. Bedhead. Countertophead? Eddie wants his hair to look messy more often. Preferably, he’d like to make it messy himself.

”Yeah, uh, they don’t usually come in until after 3,” Steve continues for Buckley, voice a bit raspy. Oh, Eddie likes that voice. He imagines waking up next to Steve, getting to hear that voice first thing in the morning everyday, with soft kisses, domestic shit like that. Jesus, he has to reel himself in a bit. He’s not Steve’s wife. Unfortunately.

”Well, here I am. Your very first customer of the day. Service me,” Eddie grins, and Buckley slaps a hand to her face. Steve doesn’t react. Ugh. Guess one movie night wasn’t enough for Steve to realize what Eddie’s motivations are. 

”Are you even here to get something or are you just here to hang around all day?” Steve asks him, tilting his head to the side and standing up from his chair. He leans against the counter, flexes his underarms. Eddie has to look at them for a while before he responds.

”Yes. I’m actually here to get something, Steve,” he replies, ”or have you forgotten that we’re watching our next movie tonight?”

”What? When did we decide that?” Steve looks confused. Eddie hopes he hasn’t already planned something else. That would not be good for his confidence. Maybe he should have actually told Steve they were hanging out today.

”I did, after you went home last week.” 

”Hanging out is usually a mutual decision, man.” Steve walks around the counter and toward the horror aisle, and Eddie follows. 

”Oh, as if you didn’t expect it. Did you think I’d be satisfied after just one session?” He hears Buckley chuckle a little behind them. Steve just reaches out to pick at the VHS tapes on the shelves. They’re already organized, there’s no work to do here. Anywhere in the store, actually. 

”Aw, you want to pick out the next one? Baby’s first step,” Eddie comments. Steve hits him lightly over the head with a copy of Alien. Eddie rubs at his forehead where the hard plastic landed. Didn’t make a dent, at least. Hopefully it won’t impact the general state of his brain too much. It turns to mush around Steve anyway, so maybe it wouldn’t make any difference.

”No, I don´t, actually. I walked over here so I could see what you pick out and ask Robin if you choose something way too scary,” Steve says, like Buckley is his guard dog. Well. Eddie could see her being just that, actually. Could see them being each other’s.

”So, anything I pick out has to get approved by her?” He looks back at Buckley who nods with a smug expression. Eddie wonders if she’ll actually be on Steve’s side or if she wants him to get scared to death. He starts parsing through the titles along the shelves. Jaws? No, surely even Steve’s seen that one. The Exorcist? Nah, too big of a jump in level of scariness. Ah. There it is. 

”Friday the 13th,” he reads out loud from the label as he pulls out the tape from its place on the shelf. Steve looks over Eddie’s shoulder, to Buckley, waits for her approval. She gives it. Eddie sends her a telepathic thank you. She doesn’t reply. Figures. She also didn’t get special powers from the Upside Down then. ”This one’s a bit scarier than Elm Street. It’s like, Psycho, summer camp version, with more sex,” he continues.

”I haven’t seen Psycho,” Steve says, reaching out and taking the VHS from Eddie’s hands. Turns it over and looks at the cover. Frowns at the bloody knife. 

”I know you haven’t. That’s why I’m showing you its less scary younger sibling,” Eddie replies, trying to sound sympathetic. It sort of comes across as patronizing instead, he thinks, because Steve is frowning when he hands the tape back. 

”Are you going to show me Psycho as well?” Ah. So that’s why he was frowning. He though Eddie was going to throw him off the deep end.

”Oh, Steve, no. I don´t want to make you too scared to shower for the rest of your life. Don’t want to take your beauty rituals away from you. You need them,” Eddie teases. Actually, Steve doesn’t. Eddie thinks he could dress in a trash bag and put literal grease in his hair without becoming any less attractive. 

”I mean. You already made me want to avoid bathtubs. Why not just do me in completely, at this point,” Steve scoffs. 

”Don´t tempt me. I might do it if you continue encouraging me.” Eddie flicks Steve’s nose with his index finger and thumb. Steve flinches backward, rubs at his nose. Eddie turns around and walks up to the counter, hands the VHS to Buckley to scan. $4.95. Eddie’s really glad he doesn’t have to rent a moviebox too, or it would be even more expensive. Damnit, he should have asked Steve to rent the movie this time as well. But he thinks that would be a bit unfair. Doesn’t want to be stingy when it comes to Steve. If this whole plan works, if these damn movies work, they’re worth every penny. He huffs, fishes up a five-dollar bill from his pocket and hands it to Buckley. Tells her to keep the change - might as well, right? 

”Hey,” Steve starts, voice a bit unsure. Eddie turns to him, but can’t meet his eyes, since Steve’s own are currently fixed on the floor in front of him. ”When, uh, when should I come tonight?” He continues, and looks up at Eddie through his fringe. Oh. Eddie has to file that away somewhere, together with all the other pictures his eyes have taken of Steve lately. Eddie practically has a whole magazine in his brain, Steve modeling for every page. He closes his eyes to commit the image to memory.

”Um, maybe 8 again? Make it easy to remember?” He suggests once he opens his eyes again, and Steve nods. Eddie doesn’t know if he can stand looking at Steve for that much longer, or his brain might overheat, so he waves at both him and Buckley and turns to walk out the door. The door jingles as he opens it. He hears a quick bye behind him and returns it with another backwards wave.

He walks up to his van, tosses the VHS in the backseat, puts the van in reverse and starts backing out of the parking lot. He wishes he could see Steve one last time through the Family Video windows, but the sun just glares back at him when he tries. So he just heads home. He feels a bit nervous. Last movie night didn’t exactly end on the note he wanted it to. Go the way he wanted it to. He didn’t think Eddie who knows how to flirt would retreat like that, leaving him standing there without his weapons. Sure, he got in a good hit right at the end, but still. He can’t even use quality over quantity to justify it. He has to outdo himself if he wants this to actually work. 

He hopes it’ll work. If it doesn’t, he might as well give up, no matter what Buckley tells him. He’s voiced his Steve-being-oblivious grievances to her on multiple occasions, timing them for when Steve has to go do something in the back of the store, where Eddie can’t follow him. She always encourages him to keep trying. But surely even she can’t continue cheering him on forever if he fails at this. He decides to try to up the ante, no matter where confident Eddie fucks off to. Whichever Eddie gets left behind will just have to deal with it. Yeah. Maybe he should smoke a bit before Steve gets to his place, actually. Calm his nerves. Besides, he thinks he’s funnier stoned. Everyone’s funnier stoned, actually. More giggly. Oh, could he get Steve to smoke with him? He knows Steve’s smoked before. 

He imagines Steve all giggly with heavy eyelids, relaxed and smiling. Slightly red eyes. Maybe Eddie could convince him to shotgun. He feels his face heat up at the thought, his stomach free-falling, so he decides it’s too early for that. He is not ready for shotgunning. Yet. He decides to store that idea in the back of his brain for later. 

—

About half an hour before Steve’s supposed to show up, Eddie sits on his bed and debates whether he should smoke or not. Pros: He´ll be more relaxed, flirt easier, be funnier. Cons: He might fall asleep again, Steve might not like him being high when Steve himself isn’t, it might make Steve feel like he’s babysitting him. Those last two are enough to convince him not to. At least not this time. If he’s going to smoke, Steve gets to do it with him. 

This time he hears the very first knock. He stands up on his knees in his bed, sinking down into it a bit, and peers out his window. Sees Steve at the door. He jumps off his bed and rushes to open the door. 

”Hi,” Steve says, immediately upon Eddie opening the door. He has Wayne’s fleece jacket on, it’s just a tiny bit too big, and he’s burying the lower half of his face behind the collar. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold, hair ruffled from the wind. He goes to take a step up the stairs and nearly falls down, slipping on the frost forming on them. Eddie reaches out quickly and catches his wrist. 

”Easy there, Stevie,” he says, and pulls Steve up into the camper. Then he forgets to drop Steve’s arm, and just stands there, holding it for a bit. Steve doesn’t move to pull his arm away either. Just stands there breathing heavily from his (almost) fall. His breath tickles Eddie’s face. Wait. How close are they standing? Oh. Really close. Close enough for Eddie to want to sway into Steve, want to put his hands up on Steve’s shoulders and let them stay there forever, never letting go. He doesn’t though. He thinks that might be a bit, um, forward. So he lets go of Steve and steps out of his personal space. Steps out of the warmth radiating from him. 

Steve takes off Wayne’s jacket and hangs it on the coatrack.

”Thought I’d give this back,” he says, and points to his own clothes. ”Brought a hoodie this time.” Eddie smiles at him. 

”Good,” he replies, ”because that windbreaker really wasn’t doing that much on its own.”

”Hey, it’s stylish,” Steve says, crossing his arms. Figures Steve would choose jackets based on aesthetics. Eddie chuckles and goes to put on the movie, points at the couch for Steve to sit down.

The Crystal Lake camp counselors start singing on the TV and Steve leans backward against the pillows behind him. He puts an arm up over the back of the couch and stretches out his legs. He looks so comfortable, a stark contrast to how he looked last time, all awkward and stiff. Eddie’s glad. Steve looks good like this. He wants Steve to look like this everywhere in Eddie’s camper. Preferably in his bed. 

”Are those two going to bang and then get murdered? I’m sensing a theme in the movies you choose, Eddie.” Steve pulls Eddie out of his thoughts. The characters on the screen are already walking up the steep stairs to the attic, Eddie having missed pretty much the whole first scene. He was focused on Steve. So what? Sue him. He smirks at Steve.

”This is just a common trope, dude. It’s a slasher staple.”

”Slasher?”

”Yeah. Slasher. It’s the kind of horror movie that features teens and a murderer who, well, slashes them. Mostly when they have sex. It’s like its own genre at this point.” Steve looks at him, nods, and then looks back at the TV. When Robbi Morgan appears on screen, Steve turns to him and smiles.

”Dude! She has your hair!” He tells Eddie, and Eddie smiles back. 

”Sort of, I guess. Hers looks less frizzy, though,” he says, grabs a lock of his own hair and twists it a little. He often wishes his hair looked a little softer, curls more uniform, but he doesn’t know how to make that happen.

”Oh, man, I could help you with the frizz. You’re talking to Steve the Hair here. Hair is my area of expertise,” Steve replies, fluffing up his hair. He throws his head forward, back again, and threads his fingers through his fringe. And his hair somehow lands perfectly. Eddie has to look away to avoid leaning toward Steve and pulling on it. Looks at the screen instead.

”Sometimes I just think about kissing women,” Mark Nelson says on the TV, and Eddie wonders if Steve does too. Probably. He wonders if Steve thinks about kissing men too. Eddie hopes he does. He fantasizes a lot about it. Well, most of the time not men in general, just Steve. He tries to imagine how Steve’s lips would feel against his. Smooth? Chapped? Would they kiss slowly, gently, or desperately, passionately? He thinks he’d be okay with whatever, as long as it’s a kiss. Even a peck on the cheek might keep him on cloud nine for months.

”Of course there’s a character named Steve. Did you pick this one specifically for that reason?” Steve’s question, once again, pulls Eddie back into reality. He blinks once, twice, before processing what Steve said.

”Nope. Happy accident,” he says, ”but he also struts around shirtless. Like you.” Steve scoffs. 

”I don´t strut around shirtless.” He looks almost offended. He’s right, he’s only really done it once or twice, but Eddie’s not going to give that to him.

”Yeah, you do, man. Not that I’m complaining,” he teases, throws a wink in Steve’s direction. Steve doesn’t notice. Doesn’t react at all to Eddie’s comment. For fuck´s sake. 

Steve´s voiced thoughts become less and less the further along in the movie they get. He’s more focused on what’s happening on screen than he is on sharing his thoughts on it with Eddie. Eddie, weirdly, finds himself wishing Steve would continue talking. Sure, it’s annoying, but also sort of… cute? Like Steve actually wants to share his thoughts with Eddie, wants to talk to him. Sometimes Eddie just feels like he’s bothering him, especially when he’s following Steve around at the end of his shifts. He’s usually tired then, and gives short, one-word answers. That’s when Eddie leaves, most times. He doesn’t want to push it. But now Steve’s the one pushing it, since he probably already thinks he’s annoying Eddie by voicing every thought that pops up in his head. So maybe Eddie’s allowed to do it too. 

Steve doesn’t run right out the door once they’re done with the movie, this time. He stays on the couch, looking on as Eddie pops out the tape from the VCR and clicks the case closed around it. Guess he wasn’t self-conscious about annoying Eddie this time. Eddie’s glad he wasn’t. 

”Do you want to stay for a while? Wayne works nights, so I’m just going to be by my self otherwise.” He looks down at his feet as he says it, a bit worried about what his face will do if Steve says no. He doesn’t say no, though.

”Sure, man. I have nothing else to do. Besides, I’m kind of still too scared to go out.” Eddie’s heart feels warm. He leaves Steve in the living room (well, living-kitchen-hallway-room) and goes into his own, turns on his radio. He doesn’t put in any of his cassettes though. He knows Steve prefers whatever’s playing on the radio. It’s almost cute, how blank of a slate Steve’s music taste is. The first channel is right in the middle of a commercial break, so he fiddles with the little tuning knob to switch channels. The next one is all static-y, so he continues turning the knob, back and forth little by little until the static goes away. Always something there to remind me, always something there to remind me, always something there to remind me. The song is already fading out, the radio hosts voice layering with Peter Byrne´s. 

Eddie goes to sit down beside Steve, and for a minute they just sit in silence, the only sound being the voice from the radio. It’s awkward. Then the drum machine starts up. Clap clap. Children behave… Steve stands up abruptly. Pulls on one of Eddie’s arms. 

”Oh fuck yes!” He exclaims, and Eddie lets Steve pull him to his feet, looks at his face as he does, hopes Steve’s smile will turn into a smirk and he’ll tell Eddie he’s joking. He doesn’t. He just pulls Eddie further out from the couch, to the only real open area in the camper, just between it and the kitchen table. Starts moving to the music. For fuck´s sake.

”You’re serious? You want to dance to Tiffany?”

”Of course, dude. What, do you usually dance to Black Sabbath, or?” Steve laughs, face all soft and smiles.

”Well, no. I don´t really dance. Unless you count headbanging,” Eddie confesses. He feels a bit silly, saying it. Steve gapes at him.

”What? Did you move here from Bomont, Utah or something?”

”No, Steve. I am, in fact, not a character from Footloose. Figures you’ve seen that movie enough times to know what the fucking town is called, though.” 

”Eddie. Dude. You realize you do too, right?” Eddie’s face flushes red, he can feel it. Steve laughs at him. Oh my God. His secret is out. His reputation. It’s going to get burnt to a crisp. 

”Oh, I did not expect this! Eddie the Freak, leader of satanic cults, ritualistic murderer, enjoying Footloose to the point of rewatching it? What’s next, you gonna tell me you like Dirty Dancing too?” Steve throws his head back, laughs with his eyes shut tight. Doesn’t notice at first, how Eddie’s face turns even more impossibly red. When he does, his chin practically drops.

”No way. No fucking way. Oh, I have to tell Robin this. Tell Dustin this. This is amazing,” he rambles, and then he grabs both Eddie’s hands. Shakes his arms up and down. And then he stills, looks like an animal almost, like a deer when it hears a twig break. He drops Eddie’s hands, jogs to Eddie’s room and turns up the volume on the radio. Oh sweet Jesus. 

”The Police.” Eddie says flatly. ”Of course.” Steve comes back and grabs both of his hands again. If it weren’t for the way his stomach fills with butterflies when he does, Eddie might have pulled them away. But he doesn’t. And then the chorus starts. And Steve sings along. 

He starts moving his arms back and forth, tugging Eddie’s along with them, and then releases one arm to back away from Eddie and stretch out his free arm to the side. Then he pulls Eddie into him, twirls him around as he does, making Eddie do a sort of clumsy-looking pirouette. Eddie ends up in Steve’s arms, nearly falling, and laughs, out of breath. Whether he’s out of breath from the dancing or from being held like this, he doesn’t know. Doesn’t care to know right now. 

He just breathes, doesn’t move, doesn’t dare move. Maybe if he doesn’t, they’ll stay like this forever. Maybe they’ll turn into statues for people to gawk at, fawning over the romance of it all. They don’t turn into stone, though, because then Steve releases him. Eddie’s body feels cold and heavy without Steve’s pressed against it. 

Jesus, it’s like he doesn’t even have to do any work anymore. The movies did it. Steve’s flirting with him now, he’s pretty sure. He’s fairly certain Steve doesn’t have a habit of dancing with other dudes and twirling them around like ballerinas. He wonders if Steve thinks he’s the one pursuing Eddie now, as if Eddie hasn’t been trying for the last few months. Then he wonders if Steve truly is unobservant enough to miss the neon signs Eddie´s carrying around and shoving in his face. 

”Every little thing she does is magic, everything she do just turns me on…” Steve sings. Eddie just looks at him. He’s sort of in awe. Here’s Steve Harrington, in Eddie’s camper, holding Eddie’s hands and dancing, twirling Eddie around, to songs on the radio. He agrees, every little thing Steve does is magic. This feels magical. This is working. The horror movie trick works. Maybe he should patent the idea.

Chapter Text

”For how long can you zoom in on a fucking pumpkin?” Steve remarks when Halloween starts playing on Eddie’s TV. Eddie agrees, because really, how long can you zoom in on a fucking pumpkin? Carpenter really knows how to drag out shots, he’ll give him that. 

”I mean, the movie is called Halloween, I guess dedicating half of it to a jack-o-lantern is fitting,” he replies, earning him a snort from Steve. Steve’s sitting in the middle of the couch this time, one leg folded up under the other. Eddie sits beside him, close, so close he can feel the heat from Steve’s body. It’s, like, intoxicating.

”This music is fucking nerve wracking,” Steve says, and Eddie can only agree again. It really is. The piano practically forces your heartbeat to match its speed. Halloween wasn’t Eddie’s first horror movie, but it was the first one he saw in the theatre. Wayne saved up for weeks so they could go, and he still remembers how the piano scared him before anything had even happened. Before the movie had even started, really. 

”Dude! They’re dying because they had sex in this one too? This really is a pattern for you, Eds,” Steve comments, and Eddie almost chokes on air. Eds. Eds. EdsEdsEds. Oh, he really likes that. He really, really hopes Steve will continue calling him that. The fact that it’s Steve giving him a nickname makes it even more special than a normal nickname. Eds. Steve doesn’t notice Eddie’s Steve-induced internal tornado, just keeps watching the movie.

”For how long can you zoom out from a fucking kid?” He says when the camera moves away from kid Michael Myers with his bloody knife, echoing his earlier sentiment. Eddie manages to recover from the nickname and does his best to chuckle in a totally normal way. It still comes out a little weird. Steve doesn’t notice that either, though. Unobservant as always, Eddie guesses. 

”The dog!? The fucking dog? What… Why? Eddie, what? Why would…” Steve sounds almost exhausted as he protests against the dog murder on screen. Which is understandable, really, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s only in the movie for shock value. It doesn’t really add anything other than that. He just pats Steve on the shoulder. Mourns the loss of Eds together with the loss of the German Shepherd. Rest In peace. Gone but not forgotten. Fly high.

When the last chase of the movie starts, Steve leans forward and is completely captured by the scene. Eddie even tries waving a hand in front of his face, and Steve just slaps it away. So Eddie goes and gets rolling paper and weed instead, sits on his knees in front of the sidetable and starts rolling a joint. Steve glances down at him and Eddie holds up the joint, asking him with a lookif he wants to smoke, and Steve nods, but points to the screen. Okay. After the movie´s over. 

Michael Myers gets shot off the balcony and disappears from the yard, and Steve throws his hands up in the air.

”Dude! What is it with these movies and just ending like that? I want a conclusive ending! Like, do they win or not? Does the bad guy die or not? Do they survive or not? Damnit!” He rants, and Eddie just listens to him, smiles to himself. Watching Steve get so into a horror movie, a horror movie he watched with Eddie, after being so adamant about hating them is sort of turning his brain to mush even further. Putting it in a blender. It’s almost a smoothie, at this point. 

”They’re setting up for future movies,” he explains, ”horror franchises are practically money-making machines. The sequels never end up being as good as the originals though.” Steve nods at him understandingly and reaches for the joint in Eddie’s hand, puts it in his mouth. Eddie takes his lighter out of one of his jean pockets and leans forward to light it for him. 

”That sort of feels cheap, in a way,” Steve mumbles with his teeth around the filter. 

”I guess so,” Eddie replies, ”but isn’t that just Hollywood? A cheap money-making machine, that is. At least we get some good movies out of it.” Steve puffs on the joint and takes it out of his mouth. Looks at it while nodding at Eddie again. 

”Yeah, you’re right. It is. Man, look at us being all smart and analytical,” he says. Eddie takes the joint from him and takes a few drags. Looks up at the rising smoke. It swirls around, and the faint light from the streetlamp outside shines through its spirals. It’s sort of hypnotizing. He notices Steve also observing it. 

”Cool, right?” He says, twirls a curl around his finger when the looks back down at Steve. It feels dry. He frowns at it. When Steve notices, he leans toward Eddie where he’s sitting on the floor, resting his elbows on his knees.

”Hey, I said I would help you with your hair last week, right? Well, let’s do it right now. I even brought some stuff.”

”You saying I need to wash my hair, Steve? I’m dirty?” Eddie teases and revels in the flush that spreads on Steve’s face. 

”What? No! That’s not what I’m saying at all. You look very… clean,” Steve exclaims in response, all flustered. It’s cute. Eddie laughs. 

”All good, dude. Just joking.” Eddie shoots him a quick, reassuring smile. Then he nods. ”Well. Work your magic then, Stevie.” He gestures for Steve to follow him and walks into the narrow hallway outside his room. He opens the door to the, admittedly, very messy bathroom and holds it open for Steve to go in first. He tries to pick up some towels and dirty laundry from the floor as quickly as possible while still holding the joint, and hopes Steve doesn’t think he’s dirty or something. He just doesn’t spend all his time cleaning, okay? He has more important things to do. Like visit Steve at work. Wayne rarely has time to clean up, what with him always picking up extra shifts at work, so the bathroom in particular ends up sort of, well, neglected. 

Steve tells him to sit down with his back against the bathtub and lean his head backwards over the edge. Eddie’s never been to a hairdresser, or barber for that matter, but he imagines it’s sort of like this. Steve half-sits, half-stands over him and turns on the water, holds the moveable showerhead over his hands to make sure the water isn’t too hot or cold. Eddie feels sort of warm, thinking about Steve being so considerate. It really is in Steve’s nature, being so caring, and Eddie absolutely loves it. It’s one of the things that made it so easy to fall for him. When he, even though he’d basically never ever talked to Eddie before, came along to help him, trusting Dustin that he was innocent, Eddie couldn’t believe his eyes. Or ears, for that matter. He hadn’t fully realized the person poking at him with an oar was Steve before pressing him up against the boathouse wall with a broken bottle to his throat, but when he did, his brain sort of short-circuited. 

His brain short-circuits a lot around Steve nowadays, actually. Steve’s constantly doing small, caring, kind things, not just for Eddie, but for everyone. Buckley´s told him about how he accepted her immediately when she came out, that she had been so worried he wouldn’t, but then he had just… joked about her bad taste in women, not made fun of her for being a lesbian. Just told her she shouldn’t waste her time on Tammy Thompson (which Eddie just so happens to agree with). And then he had encouraged her to pursue Vickie. 

Eddie’s sure Steve would do the same for him, if he told Steve he was gay, if he told Steve he had a crush on anyone (well, other than Steve himself). He just… goes so completely against every preconceived notion Eddie had had about him before knowing him, proving every day how good he is. How could Eddie not fall for him? Especially when the guy also apparently spends his time ripping demobats in half and helping Eddie steal campers. 

He’s so deep in his thoughts at this point that he flinches, hard, when he feels Steve’s hand in his hair. Steve removes his hand immediately.

”Sorry, man, is the water too warm?” He asks, voice all worried and eyes all sincere. And a bit red. Eddie shakes his head. 

”No, just surprised me is all,” he replies. Steve nods and goes back to threading his fingers through Eddie’s hair, making sure all of it is wet. It feels… so nice. His eyes close on their own, eyelids already heavy from the weed. Steve’s fingers are soft, gently working out the little knots in his hair. Eddie takes a drag from the joint, turns his head to the side to avoid blowing out the smoke in Steve’s face. Steve, already a bit high, leans along with him to keep his hands in the same place, so the smoke ends up in his face anyway. Eddie giggles. Reaches up and bops Steve on his nose. Boop. He thinks he’s greening out when he sees a faint pink color spread over Steve’s cheeks. Chalks it up to the smoking. HIs own face sometimes gets red when he’s high, so that’s probably the case for Steve as well.

”I´ll start washing your hair now. Where’s your shampoo?” Steve asks, voice a bit distant, floaty.

”It’s somewhere in the corner of the bathtub. With all the, uh, other stuff.” Eddie knows all the shower products are in a messy pile in one corner, just tosses them there when he’s used them. Steve rifles through them for a minute until he finds it and squirts some out on his hands. Eddie feels butterflies in his stomach when he imagines it being something else, something more oily-

”Dude, you should really invest in some better products.” Steve interrupts his thoughts once again, and starts working the shampoo into his hair. Eddie grumbles. He just buys whatever’s available at the grocery store, doesn’t really see the need for fancier stuff. Figures Steve would, though. 

When he rinses the shampoo out of Eddie’s hair, he carefully holds one hand along Eddie’s hairline to avoid getting water in Eddie’s eyes. The act is so small, but so considerate, so tender, that Eddie has to close his eyes again anyway, as if the water is getting through Steve’s hands. His face is still completely dry, though. No water leaks here. 

Steve removes his hands from Eddie’s hair and just hovers over him for a minute, looking at his hair (face?), and Eddie can feel his face getting progressively warmer, so he holds up his hand in front of it and offers the joint to Steve. Steve leans forward and closes his lips around the filter, takes a puff, and then leans down further to blow a cloud of smoke in Eddie’s face. It’s his turn to giggle now. Eddie sits there in the quickly vanishing smoke cloud and just listens to Steve’s laugh. He hears it close to his right ear as Steve bends over him to grab the conditioner bottle. In his left ear as he starts to lather Eddie’s curls in it. 

”And now we’ll just let it sit for a while,” Steve tells him, and sits down beside him. Pressed against his body, shoulder to thigh. Eddie feels a shiver go down his spine. The hair on his neck would be standing up if it wasn’t weighed down by water and conditioner, probably. Steve holds his hand out for Eddie to hand him the joint and takes a drag from it. Turns his head to face Eddie and exhales the smoke from his mouth, inhaling it again through his nose. It’s, well, unnecessarily hot. Eddie almost leans forward into the smoke, into Steve, but he manages to stop himself.

He takes one last puff from the joint and then goes to put it out on the ashtray in his room. When he comes back Steve’s standing up again, gesturing for him to sit down so Steve can rinse our the conditioner. Eddie sits down, and Steve turns on the water, brings the showerhead closer to Eddie’s head. Eddie gets an idea. A high idea. A highdea. 

He smirks, but Steve doesn’t see it, and then he grabs the showerhead. Steve isn’t prepared for it, so Eddie easily wrenches it out of his hand, and turns it around to spray Steve straight in the face. Steve splutters and puts a hand in front of the nozzle, which only makes the water go everywhere else but his face. His hair, his clothes. His fringe sticks to his forehead and Eddie thinks it looks kind of good. Would look even better if it was because of sweat.

Steve ducks and manages to get out of the way of Eddie’s waterboarding, and looks up wildly at Eddie, throws himself over him to wrestle the showerhead out of his grip. He manages to do it pretty easily, being slightly stronger than Eddie, and also because Eddie sort of just lets him. He’s distracted by the feeling of Steve’s body pressed against his. Wet. 

Two hands brace against the edge of the bathtub on either side of Eddie’s shoulders, one still holding the showerhead - grip awkward, loose, the water spilling onto the floor. And Steve’s face is right in front of his. Close. Steve moves to push himself up, off of Eddie, but his hands slip on the wet bathtub and he ends up falling down, chest pressed against Eddie’s. Again. Still wet. He looks up at Eddie, who is slightly stunned, frozen in place. He gulps, and feels his whole body warm up. Hopefully Steve doesn’t feel it against his own skin. 

He doesn’t do it on purpose, his eyes move on their own, drop down to look at Steve’s lips. They look soft. There are water drops running down them. Eddie kind of wants to lick them off. Then Steve’s own tongue slips out to lick at the drops, and Eddie thinks he’s going to faint. His eyes finally cooperate with his brain and he looks up at Steve’s eyes again. They’re half-lidded, still red from the weed, looking right back into Eddie’s own. Eddie can barely breathe at this point. Holds it instead. Steve, on the other hand, is breathing hard. Eddie feels heaving of his chest against his. Feels Steve’s pulse, his heart, hammering just as hard as he thinks his own is. 

Then the water pressure suddenly increases (damn pipes) and the showerhead spins around on its own in Steve’s hand, yet again spraying his face with water. Steve falls backward, away from Eddie, and Eddie quickly reaches up to turn off the water. Steve just sits there on the floor for a couple seconds, breathing heavily and looking down at his lap. 

Eddie laughs, somewhat forced, trying to get rid of the tension. Steve looks up at him, looks a bit out of it. Maybe he’s higher than Eddie thought. Then he starts laughing along with Eddie, letting his head fall back, leaning forward with his arms on his knees. He stands up and takes the showerhead again, this time eyeing Eddie suspiciously, before turning the water on.

Steve finally washes out the conditioner from Eddie’s curls and wrings the water out, hands slightly shaky, and pats his hair lightly with the towel. Not rubbing it all over his head like Eddie usually does. Now that he thinks about it, it’s not that weird that it gets frizzy when his hair-drying technique involves literally frizzing it up.

Then Steve stands up and disappears out into the hallway, and Eddie hears him fiddling around with his jacket at the coatrack. He comes back with his hands full.

”Like I said, I brought some products I didn’t think you’d have,” Steve says, holding up a bottle of mysterious liquid and a spray tube of something most likely contributing to the destruction of the ozone layer. Eddie wonders if any of them have Farrah Fawcett´s face on them. Can’t see if they do. He nods cautiously while eyeing them. Curl cream. Leave-in conditioner. Well. They don’t sound potentially poisonous at least. 

He instructs Eddie to stand in front of the mirror, and stands behind him to spray the leave-in conditioner all over his hair, carefully brushing the curls out and evenly distributing the product. Seeing Steve standing so close behind him in the mirror, water still dripping from his hair, is almost too much for Eddie’s frail heart to bear. It’s so… domestic, such a sweet sight, almost saccharine. He has to bite his cheeks to keep from blurting out something stupid, like ”please marry me” or whatever other words his mouth would decide to form.

Steve scrunches his curls, grabbing them from the bottom and pushing them upwards towards his scalp. It feels nice, the slight pulling on Eddie’s hair. He closes his eyes, just lets himself go along with the motions. Steve continues with his hair for a few minutes, and then taps him on the shoulder when he’s done. Eddie opens his eyes and sees Steve looking straight at him through the mirror, smiling. 

”We’re done with this part. Could you go get a t-shirt or something like that so I can wrap your hair? It needs to be a pretty thin material,” he tells Eddie. Eddie nods and looks around the bathroom. There’s bound to be something in here, he thinks. And there is. He grabs an old Def Leppard shirt from the bathroom floor, used to the point of having holes by the armpits, and hands it to Steve who tells him to throw his head forward. He does, and Steve carefully wraps the soft t-shirt around Eddie’s hair. Then he pushes Eddie’s head upward again, his warm, wet hand on Eddie’s forehead.

”All done. Well, for now. We need to leave this in for a while as well, let it work its magic,” Steve says, washing the leftover product off his hands by the sink. Eddie nods. 

”We can just go sit in my room again then. The bathroom floor isn’t exactly comfortable,” he replies, and opens the door for Steve again. Eddie sits down by the headboard of his bed, leans carefully against it to not disturb the t-shirt turban too much. Steve lies down on the bedroom floor, looks up at the ceiling. 

”You can come sit on the bed if you want. Can’t be comfortable to sit on the hard floor,” Eddie suggests, patting the mattress beside him, but Steve shakes his head in response. 

”I’m still drenched, dude. I’d mess up your bed, get it all wet.”

”I wouldn’t complain. You´re welcome to mess up my bed however you want,” Eddie teases, and winks at Steve. Gets in a good hit, he thinks. 

”Jesus,” he hears Steve whispering, ”you have no idea know what you…” He trails off, doesn’t finish his sentence. Goes completely silent for a while. Then he groans, covers his face with both hands as he does, and then lets them fall down on either side of his body. Eddie frowns and waves a hand over his face.

”Hello? Earth to Steve?” He says, Steve looking at the ceiling, straight through his hand. ”Dude, are you feeling good? Did you smoke too much? You can go lie down on my bed if you’re feeling bad,” he continues, but Steve shakes his head. 

”No, no, I’m good. Just got a bit distracted,” Steve replies, ”I’m so high right now.” He bends his head backward to look at Eddie with an upside down smile. Eddie smiles back, rightside up. 

”Me too,” he says, even though he sort of isn’t, his tolerance being higher than Steve’s. He doesn’t know why he lies about it, honestly. Maybe so he can have an excuse for his comments. If they don’t land, or something. And for wanting to be so, so close to Steve right now. He would go and lie down with him if he didn’t have this stupid t-shirt turban on his head. Actually, it’s not stupid. It’s Steve’s weird t-shirt turban. 

After about ten minutes of both of them sort of just existing in eachother´s vicinity, Steve tells Eddie to go to the bathroom again, and Eddie goes, unwrapping his hair on the way. Steve trails behind him. Eddie picks up the curl cream standing on the sink, and turns to hold it up to Steve. Smiles proudly.

”I knew what the next step was!” He says, half-joking.

”Well, duh, it’s the only product left,” Steve replies, but there’s a small smile on his face as well, Eddie notices. Steve holds out his hand toward Eddie, and at first Eddie doesn’t get what he means, so Steve points to the bottle with his other hand. Eddie pops open the cap on the curl cream bottle and pours some out onto Steve’s hand. Steve rubs his hands together and then starts threading his fingers through Eddie’s curls, carefully, gently. Eddie’s actually slightly worried his hair will, like, take some damage from having this many different products dumped on it, but he trusts Steve knows what he’s doing. 

Once he’s gotten the cream evenly distributed in Eddie’s hair, he starts scrunching it again, the way he did after the leave-in conditioner. Eddie never does that to his own hair, but it almost seems like that’s the most important step. He usually just lets his hair airdry and hopes for the best. Sometimes he goes to sleep with wet hair, and also hopes for the best. And a couple times a year, he uses a hairdryer he got like five years ago. It’s difficult to use though. He got some sort of spiky bowl looking thingy along with it but never understood how to use it. 

”And now for the hairdryer,” Steve says, and takes the hairdryer and bowl-thingy in question from its place on top of the washing machine. He screws the bowl thingy onto the hairdryer, turns it on, and starts doing the same movements with the dryer as he did with his hands. When he reaches the scalp, each time, he lets the dryer sit for a little against Eddie’s head, and Eddie pretends it isn’t too hot. This goes on for a while, until Eddie’s hair is dry all the way through. Steve turns him around, back to the mirror, and fiddles with his hair a little bit, scrunching the curls yet again, as if perfecting a painting. Then he grabs Eddie’s shoulders and spins him around again.

”Ta-da!” He says, voice (and face) all excited. And it’s earned excitement. Eddie feels like he’s gotten his hair styled by a professional hairdresser. It looks so smooth. The curls are soft, fluffy ringlets instead of frizzy, tight waves, but not in the porcelain doll way, more like… More like fucking Dave from Megadeth or something. And that’s a compliment, if Eddie’s ever heard one. 

”Dude, you made me look like Dave,” he says under his breath, and Steve looks him in the eyes through the mirror.

”No idea who that is,” he replies, ”but I hope it’s a good thing.” Eddie nods at him enthusiastically, meeting his eyes.

”Oh, it is, Stevie,” he says, a bit louder this time. Steve still hasn’t removed his hands from Eddie’s shoulders, and before Eddie can stop himself, one of his own hands creeps up to take hold of Steve’s. Threads their fingers together. He feels a breath hitch behind his back, and Steve’s hand almost flinches away, but miraculously, it stays. 

”I didn’t really know how to do curly hair before this, actually,” Steve tells Eddie, ”I bought a magazine with a whole tutorial in it. Just so I would be able to do it right.” Eddie sees his cheeks heat up in the mirror. Knows Steve can see it as well. He feels Steve tighten his hand around Eddie’s, once, twice, reassuringly. It doesn’t help with the cheek situation, but he lets his hand linger anyway.

Chapter Text

”Are we watching another slasher or whatever it’s called today?” Steve asks on the phone when Eddie calls Family Video. He can hear Buckley grumbling in the background. Something about leaving all the work to her. 

”No. No teenage sex in this one,” Eddie tells him, ”no sex at all, actually. If there were, it would be a lot of gay sex.”

”Aw, bummer. Those are the best parts,” Steve says sarcastically. Eddie laughs. Likes how Steve doesn’t mind the comment about the sex potentially being gay. ”How are they going to die if they’re not banging?” Eddie laughs harder. 

”No deaths-by-fucking this time. It is another Carpenter movie though. This one came after Halloween,” he replies. 

”Oh, great. The one who ends his movies on cliffhangers.”

”Practically all of them do, Steve. That’s the beauty of horror movies. And Hollywood. I thought we talked abut this.”

”I swear, if this one does as well, I’m going to boycott any future horror movie you suggest. I’m going to start letting Robin decide what we watch instead,” Steve says, but only sounds half-serious. 

”And you think Buckley wouldn’t pick the most horrific ones just to mess with you? Bold assumption,” Eddie chuckles. Steve huffs on the other end of the line, and Eddie faintly hears Buckley shouting for Steve to go back to work. He doesn’t, though. Says he’s talking to Eddie right now. Eddie feels dizzy when Steve prioritizes talking to him over work. Even though he feels slightly bad for Buckley. He’s managed to call during rush hour. Bad timing on his part. Sorry, Buckley.

”You should probably go back to work like she says,” he tells Steve, sympathizing with her, ”she sounds pretty mad.”

”Yeah, well, she’s just mad I have a date and she doesn’t.” Eddie feels his hand get a bit sweaty against the plastic phone. Date. He doesn’t know if Steve said it as a joke, lets himself toy with the idea that it wasn’t one.  

”A date? With who? You planning to ditch me for some random babe?” He teases once he gets his irregular heartbeat under control. Steve scoffs.

”Yeah, right. I meant you. Not that you’re not a babe,” Steve says, voice low. Raspy. Eddie nearly chokes on air. Steve’s being so forward right now, probably has more courage to flirt outright like this over the phone. When he doesn’t have to look Eddie in the eyes while he’s doing it. 

”Hello?” Steves voice comes through when Eddie doesn’t answer. Eddie clears his throat. 

”Well, Stevie, thank you for the compliment. Glad to know you think I’m a total babe,” he replies, also trying to muster up the courage to flirt. He thinks it works. 

”No problem,” Steve says, all casually. As if he didn’t just give Eddie a minor heart attack. God, how does he do this without fainting on the spot? Eddie probably would, if he were the one who had to initiate. 

”Well. Anyway. I probably do have to go back to work now, you´re right, I can hear some lady getting a bit irritated at Robin,” Steve continues, ”Buh-bye.”

”Bye,” Eddie replies, a little out of breath. Hears the click of Steve hanging up the phone. Eddie just stands there for a while, phone in hand, staring at the wall. Jesus. 

—

”Do you have any food? I was going to buy a pizza on the way over here but I forgot,” Steve says when Eddie opens the door to let him in that night. 

”Not even a ”hello”? Just come here to eat my food? How rude,” Eddie jokes, but walks to the fridge anyway and opens it. ”Uh, not a lot, actually. Some Spaghettios,” he tells Steve. Steve moves to stand behind him, leans over his shoulder. Eddie can feel the warmth from his body, close to his. He has to force himself not to lean back, lean his back against Steve’s chest. He sort of wants Steve to put his arms around Eddie, put his chin on his shoulder.

Steve doesn’t, but he does reach around Eddie to grab the Spaghettios. His arm brushes against Eddie’s and leaves a burn mark. Well, no, it doesn’t, but it feels like it. 

”Good enough for me,” Steve says, and looks through the kitchen cabinets for a pot to heat them up in. He gets it right on the second try and puts a pot on the stove, turns it on. The sight warms Eddie’s chest, Steve at home here. Casually cooking in Eddie’s kitchen, at his place. It’s another one of those domestic moments that make Eddie want to get down on one knee. That might be a bit too early, though, so he doesn’t. He thinks about getting down on two knees instead and that seems more reasonable. Still too early though, he’s pretty sure.

Steve pours the Spaghettios into two bowls when they’re all heated up, and Eddie gets two spoons for them. Steve takes both bowls and walks to the couch, putting them down on the sidetable. Eddie actually doesn’t like Spaghettios that much, but he thinks he will now that Steve’s the one who prepared them. Made with love, or whatever. 

”Oh, right, the movie´s in the big inside pocket of my jacket,” Steve says as he sits down on the couch, pointing at his jacket by the coatrack. Eddie goes to get it and walks over to the TV to put it in the VCR. The Thing. He’s glad they had it in stock at Family Video, knows it’s a popular movie, knows it’s usually rented out on weekends. He wonders if Steve put it in the back during the day to keep others from renting it. If Steve made sure he’dbe able to rent it, because Eddie asked him to. 

Eddie takes a spoonful of the Spaghettios from the sidetable. Just like he thought, they taste better when Steve prepares them. He takes another. Steve takes his bowl and straight up drinks his like a soup. It’s a bit gross, but also a bit cute, Eddie thinks. He turns back to the TV, presses play on the VCR and goes to sit down beside Steve.

”What did the dog do? Why would they shoot at a dog? Is it, like, a theme in this Carpenter guy’s movies to kill dogs?” Steve asks during the first scene. Then he asks why there’s no text for the Norwegian character.

”It would spoil the movie,” Eddie replies, ”and I guess it’s also just an Easter egg for Norwegians or something.”

”Well. Apparently Norwegians are fucking crazy.” 

”Oh, I think they’re fairly normal. Just this dude who’s slightly unhinged.”

The unhinged Norwegian in question gets shot and Steve says he thinks it was deserved, and Eddie has to bite his cheek to keep from spoiling the movie for him. It’s such a good movie, it’s the one he was looking forward to showing Steve the most, so he has to keep his mouth shut. He’s glad none of the kids have told him about the film, knows Wheeler has a poster of it in his basement, has seen it when they’re playing DnD. Maybe Steve’s not exactly the person they discuss horror movies with when he drives them around in his car. Eddie’s actually pretty sure they just spend a lot of time teasing him about girls. If only they knew. 

He turns around in his seat and throws his legs over Steve’s. Feels a bit brave, right now. Confident Eddie hasn’t fled the scene, gone into hiding, for once. Steve places his arms over his legs almost on autopilot, without taking his eyes off the screen. Starts rubbing circles into his knee with his thumb like he did a couple weeks back. 

Confident Eddie keeps putting in the work, so Eddie leans forward with one elbow on the back of the couch, leans his cheek on it. He looks at Steve’s face as he watches the movie, doesn’t notice Eddie staring at him. He has a five o'clock shadow. It’s needlessly attractive. Eddie wonders how it would feel against his face if they kissed. If it would tickle or feel rough. 

”Oh this dog is fucking creepy, man. Why is it walking around like that? There’s gotta be something wrong with it. Maybe that Norwegian dude was right and they should have shot it. Oh God, I can’t believe this damn movie has me advocating for killing dogs,” Steve rants when the husky (well, The Thing) starts skulking around the base, stalking the crew. 

When the dog gets put in the kennel with the other dogs, Steve covers his eyes, peeking through his fingers, like he did when they watched their very first movie. 

”Something’s about to happen, isn’t it?” He asks, and Eddie nods. Steve pulls his knees up to his chest, and then the dog starts transforming, and Steve makes an eek sound, a high-pitched thing, which Eddie finds unbelievably cute. He can’t even focus on the arguably scariest scene in the movie when Steve’s sitting there, unashamedly reacting to it like this. 

”This one´s so fucking scary, Eddie, what the fuck,” Steve says when the dogs are all dead. ”This Carpenter dude really has a thing for murdering dogs. It’s sick.” Eddie’s never actually considered that. Guess it’s true, actually. It’s probably mostly for the shock factor in Halloween, but here it actually serves a role, at least. 

After the scene´s over, Steve lets his legs stretch out in front of the couch again, relaxes slightly. Confident Eddie gets yet another idea. 

He leaves the couch, goes to sit down in front of Steve’s knees, settles his back against them. It’s not as comfortable as he thought it would be, Steve’s knees digging into his shoulders, but he stays there anyway. Steve’s legs twitch a bit when he leans back. They feel warm. Steve parts his legs slightly, so Eddie’s back leans against the couch, Steve’s knees on either side of his shoulders. Oh. Eddie feels his face get all hot. Whole body go hot, actually. The blush that starts on his cheeks is probably spreading all the way down his chest. He doesn’t dare turn around, doesn’t want Steve to see him all red, but he imagines doing it. His head between Steve’s legs. Oh God. He has to shake his head to rid it of the thoughts, unless he wants all the blood currently covering him in a red hue to travel south. 

Suddenly, he feels Steve’s fingers threading through his hair, getting caught on some of his curls. Feels as he separates the hair into three parts and starts moving them around. It tickles a little, but it feels nice. Eddie hasn’t had his hair played with since… he doesn’t know when. 

”You know how to do braids?” He asks, a bit surprised. He leans his head back against the couch, looks up at him. Steve nods. 

”Robin taught me. She said I had to learn because she was tired of getting sore arms anytime she wanted braided hair.” Eddie smiles, imagining Buckley trying to teach Steve to braid hair. Not that he doesn’t think Steve picked it up quickly, but because he doesn’t think Buckley herself is particularly good at it. He leans his head forward again and lets Steve continue. The layers around his face don’t stay in the braid, they’re too short, but he doesn’t mind. 

They stay like that, Steve braiding his hair, and when he’s done he combs it out with his fingers. Starts over again. Keeps his hands occupied while he focuses on the movie. Eddie can’t, though, focuses on Steve’s hands in his hair instead. He wants them to stay there, forever, or maybe for them to pull on it, hard. God. Get your mind out of the gutter, he tells himself. 

”Can you guess how they did that?” He says instead, pointing at the green lump of throat veins currently exposed on the screen. Steve makes a grossed out noise. 

”No. I don´t even know if I want to know,” Steve replies.

”Well, you’re going to anyway. They used melted plastic and gum.”

”What, like regular chewing gum? Seriously?”

”Yup. Cool, right?” 

”I’d probably say gross, but yeah, I guess it’s cool too,” Steve answers him, looking at the head falling down onto the floor. He keeps braiding Eddie’s hair, small, thin braids all over, randomly dispersed around Eddie’s head. He lets them stay in his hair, loose, but still there. 

”I really like your hair, if you haven’t noticed,” he says a while later, leaning forward and almost putting his face in Eddie’s curls. Eddie feels his breath tickle against the top of his head. Feels a bit woozy. It almost sounds like a love confession, if he lets himself indulge in it, and he does. He misses Steve’s warm breath when he leans back, but Steve keeps his fingers in his locks, so it doesn’t matter that much. 

”I have noticed,” he answers, voice a bit quiet, whispery. Steve’s knees tighten around his shoulders when he says it. And now, confident Eddie has had enough. He turns around, stands on his knees, facing Steve. Puts his arms over Steve’s thighs and rests his chin on them. The Thing plays in the background, forgotten. Eddie can vaguely hear the fire burning down the base. Can vaguely hear the last two survivors testing eachother.

Steve looks at him with a deer-in-headlights look, eyes wide. His mouth falls open just a bit, lips so inviting, pink. 

Eddie lets his eyes quickly glance at them, and oh my God, Steve nods. It’s a miracle. Eddie briefly wonders if the stars would be aligned in neat rows if he looked at the sky out the window. Then Steve looks him in the eyes intently and leans down, and Eddie feels his eyelids flutter closed on their own. Steve’s lips press against his after just a short moment, and Eddie tilts his head slightly. He feels Steve move his lips against Eddie’s, sucking on his lower lip. His stubble tickles, just like Eddie thought, but in a nice way. It’s a quick kiss, Steve already pulling away, but Eddie feels lightheaded nonetheless. Steve looks as if he feels the same. 

”I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispers, looking deep into Eddie’s eyes. Hazel. Eddie thinks he’ll keep dreaming in hazel forever. 

”Me too,” he says, breathlessly, biting his lip. Steve’s eyes drop, breaking eye contact to look at Eddie’s teeth. Eddie shivers. He can’t believe Steve, Steve Harrington, is looking at him like this. Can’t believe his plan fucking worked. 

”Do… uh… Do you like, want to stay over?” Eddie asks him nervously, ”it’s really late.” As if it wasn’t late the other times Steve’s been here, times he went home in the dark anyway. Steve looks like he doesn’t mind the poor excuse. Looks at Eddie for a couple seconds.

”Yeah,” he says after a while, leaning forward to capture Eddie’s lips in a soft kiss again. He moves his lips against Eddie’s gently, carefully, as if he’s scared Eddie will back away. Eddie won’t. Won’t ever back away from Steve. He only ever wants to lean into him. Steve starts placing soft pecks around the corners of his lips and Eddie smiles around them. He places his hands between Steve’s thighs on the couch and stands up taller on his knees, reaches up so Steve doesn’t have to bend his neck at such an awkward angle. Steve holds onto the thin braids still in Eddie’s hair as he deepens the kiss, prodding Eddie’s mouth open with a warm, velvet tongue. 

He pulls back again and pulls on Eddie’s arms, pulls him up on the couch beside him, turns and places his arms around Eddie’s arms in a tight hug. Eddie lets his arms hold onto Steve’s waist. Steve sighs against his shoulder. 

”I don´t even know what to say right now,” he says, and Eddie lets out a little breath, a short, silent laugh. 

”So don´t say anything,” he replies, stands up slowly and grabs Steve’s hand as it falls down from his arms. Steve looks at him with such an awe-struck expression, expectant, and lets himself get pulled up from the couch. Eddie forgets to turn the TV off, or maybe just doesn’t care to do it, actually. He leads Steve down the hall to his bedroom and down onto his bed. Lays down on his stomach and props his head up on his hands. Steve cautiously lays down beside him, on his side, and just stares at his face. Eddie feels giddy, the butterflies in his stomach threatening to spill out of his mouth any second now. 

Steve flips over onto his back and puts his hands over his face. Like he can’t believe what’s happening. Then he snakes one arm under Eddie’s body, around his waist, and pulls him in closer. Eddie lets him, puts his head on Steve’s shoulder, buries his face in the space just between Steve’s neck and shoulder. 

They don’t have to do anything. Not yet. Eddie’s content with just sleeping, near Steve, feeling Steve’s solid body against his. He turns to his side, throws one leg over Steve’s and tangles it in between them. Places an arm over Steve’s chest, hand in his soft hair on the opposite side of his head. Steve turns to face Eddie, smiles at him and tightens his grip around Eddie’s waist. His hand slips under Eddie’s loose tank top and sends a shiver down his spine. He presses as close to Steve as he can, kind of wants to fuse with his body, never ever let go again. 

Chapter Text

When Eddie wakes up, his pillow is more solid than usual. And more, well, mobile. He opens is eyes and squints, sees dark hair and soft beige skin in front of him. Oh. Right, Steve’s here. Wait. Oh my God. Steve Harrington is in his bed. In his bed. He nearly squeals out loud, but he doesn’t want to wake up Steve, so he squeals inwardly instead. He moves his hand, still in Steve’s hair, to thread his fingers through it gently. There are no tangles, like there always are in Eddie’s hair after he’s slept. Of course. Of course Steve would be the one to wake up with perfect hair. Eddie smiles to himself. He thinks Steve’s hair would look perfect even if it was completely matted after a night’s sleep. 

Steve stirs slightly when Eddie moves his hand, and turns his head to the side, facing Eddie. He opens his eyes blearily and smiles at him, face still sleepy and relaxed.

”Morning,” he says with a raspy voice. Eddie feels an intense need to always wake up next to Steve, if only to get to hear that voice over and over again. 

”Morning, Stevie,” he replies, and removes his hand from Steve’s hair, places it on his slightly stubbly cheek instead. Slides his fingertips along Steve’s jawline, neck, and lets it settle on his upper chest. Steve sighs, a small, pleased sound. Hums. Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. Looks up at Steve’s face through his messy fringe. Steve reaches up to push the curls out of his face. 

”You look so nice like this. So soft,” he whispers, and tilts his head down to kiss Eddie’s forehead. 

”I don´t know if I would use the word ”soft” to describe me,” Eddie tells him, ”never heard anyone refer to me as such.”

”Oh, you are right now, though. Totally soft. I’m glad no one else gets to see you be all soft like this, though.” Eddie blushes at Steve’s words. They’re slightly possessive, a gentle possessiveness, not icky in the way it easily could be. ”I want soft you all to myself. I’m a bit selfish,” Steve continues, turning over to his side and throwing the arm not currently trapped under Eddie’s body over him to hug him tightly. He sighs against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie feels so, so warm. Not just from Steve’s body heat, but from the inside as well. It feels like his heart has turned into a furnace, or something. He pulls his arms out from Steve’s hug and stretches them upward, yawning. 

”Do you want to watch one last movie? I have it at home, we don’t even need to rent it,” he asks Steve now that they’re properly awake. Steve nods. 

”Sure. As long as you let me hold onto you during the super spooky scenes,” Steve replies, and Eddie chuckles at him.

”Alright, you can hold onto me during the super spooky scenes, Stevie."

—

Eddie rifles through the shelf by the side of the TV, looking for Poltergeist. He knows it’s somewhere, just can’t find it. Steve sits down beside him.

”Which one are you looking for?” He asks. 

”Poltergeist,” Eddie replies. Steve looks at the shelf, and finds it immediately. 

”How did you do that?” Eddie asks with a fake frown.

”I’m a professional movie finder, Eds,” Steve chuckles. He hands the VHS to Eddie. Eddie turns on the TV and has to rewind the tape, not having had the energy to do it after the last time he watched it. Ugh. It takes a while, Steve having more than enough time to settle in comfortably on the couch, but after a while Eddie can stop holding in the rewind button and press play. 

He goes to sit down at his usual spot, leaving some space between him and Steve, but Steve makes a sad face at him. Reaches and arm out toward him.

”You promised,” he says, using his best puppy eyes. He doesn’t need to, because Eddie’s already shuffling closer, no convincing needed. Steve continues holding is arm out, lets Eddie sit close, and puts his arm around Eddie’s back once he’s settled against Steve’s side, head on his shoulder. Eddie sighs contentedly. He pulls up his legs on the couch and leans further into Steve. Steve starts scratching his arm lightly, fingertips barely touching Eddie’s skin. It’s almost hypnotic, and he barely notices when the national anthem starts playing on the TV. 

”Oh God. Not a dog again. Is it going to die in this one as well? You have to spoil this for me,” Steve tells him when the golden retriever on screen walks around stealing food. 

”It doesn’t,” Eddie assures him with a smile. Thinks about the other, uh, animal death.

”Thank fuck.”

Heather O'Rourke sits in front of the flashing TV screen, undoubtedly fucking up her eyes in some way. Says hello. Steve says it back, a quiet hi, and Eddie giggles a bit at him. When Heather asks what he looks like, Steve says he’s a brunette, and Eddie laughs harder. Steve’s trying to avoid getting creeped out by the kid, he knows, but it’s entertaining to listen to. 

”Jesus Christ. So if the dog doesn’t die, they have to kill off birds instead? What is it with these freaks and killing pets?” Steve rants when Tweety is found dead in his cage.

”She’s going to fucking flush him down the toilet?” He continues when that is, in fact, what almost happens before the kid interrupts it. Eddie turns his face toward him and pats him on the chest. 

”Sorry, Stevie. You didn’t ask about non-dog pets dying,” he says. Steve lets out a sigh of relief when the bird isn´t flushed down the toilet.

After a while, the national anthem starts playing again, and this time Eddie can feel Steve tense up. He knows the kid´s about to talk to the TV again, Eddie thinks. He pats Steve on the chest again and lets his hand stay there, feels Steve’s arm tighten around his shoulders. He holds onto Eddie during the super spooky scene. The ghost-air-hand comes out to grab at Heather’s, and Steve’s whole body jumps. Eddie tries to keep from laughing, but he can’t. 

”Super spooky, right?” He teases Steve, who is still a bit tense.

”Ha ha,” he says dryly, sarcastically, ”super funny, too.”

—

When the movie ends, Eddie turns his head to look up at Steve, still resting his head against Steve’s shoulder.

”So,” he starts, ”what do you think?”

”What do I think about what?” Steve asks him, looking at the credits rolling down the screen.

”About horror movies. Have you changed your mind?” Eddie replies. Steve furrows his brows, thinks about it. Then he smiles softly.

”Sort of. Maybe. No. Not really, actually. The movies are still fucking horrifying. But I like watching them now, I guess.”

”You guess?”

”Well, yeah. I get to watch them with you,” Steve says, like he’s a regular Casanova or something. Eddie almost swoons. Almost.

And then Steve turns to him, twisting his back, places his free arm around Eddie, caging him in. Eddie lets his eyes glance down at Steve’s lips, and sees them form a small smile. Steve leans forward and starts giving him soft, quick kisses across his cheek. Eddie sighs and holds Steve still for a moment, wants Steve to kiss him properly. He does. He lets his lips meet Eddie’s, gently, cautiously. Eddie lets his hands fall down again, unsure what to do with them. He forms them into fists in his lap. He starts moving his lips against Steve’s, tries to invite him to do the same. Steve gets the hint, slants his mouth and sucks lightly on Eddie’s lower lip.

”Did you think I didn’t notice you flirting with me before?” He asks, voice muffled around Eddie’s lip. Eddie shivers. He shuts his eyes tighter. ”I did. Just didn’t know… I didn’t know what to do.” Steve pulls back slightly, Eddie chasing after him and capturing his lips again. Steve smiles into the kiss. ”Was scared of spooking you if I returned it too early. Spook you like a deer, make you want to run,” he continues. ”But you just kept getting close, closer. You’re really are through with running away, aren’t you?” His hands come up to cup both Eddie’s cheeks softly, holding him in place as he depends the kiss. He licks Eddie’s lip, prods his mouth open. Steves tongue feels like warm velvet against his, his breath hot against Eddie’s lips. Eddie feels almost lightheaded, delirious, can smell Steve’s shampoo, a faint, citrusy scent. ”Didn’t have the courage to do anything til you made me watch all those movies,” Steve finishes.

”I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have gotten spooked,” Eddie whispers, kissing the corners of Steve’s mouth. ”Or run away. You’re not a hunter. You don’t scare me, Stevie.”

”I totally could be. If I wanted to,” Steve chuckles as he tilts his head to catch Eddie’s lips again. He moves his hands, lets them travel down along Eddie’s chest, the sides of his stomach, his waist, settling around the sides of his upper thighs. Steve kneads them softly, and Eddie moans at the feeling. Steve’s hands are hot even through his jeans, firm. Warmth pools low in Eddie’s stomach. He puts his arms around Steve’s neck, presses his chest closer against Steve’s. Wants to be as close to him as possible. His chest feels solid against Eddie’s. Steve’s lips slide against his as the kiss turns more fervent, hungry. Eddie feels Steve bite down gently on his lower lip and moans softly. He parts their mouths slightly.

”You could, couldn’t you? Big Boy,” he teases, and Steve groans when he does, puts his head on Eddie’s shoulder. His hair feels a bit damp against the side Eddie’s neck.

”Do you know what you did to me when you called me that the first time? That got me, Eds. Couldn’t think about anything else.” Eds. Eddie likes that. A lot. Hopes Steve will call him that more. He feels Steve snaking his hands underneath his thighs, but isn’t prepared for it when Steve lifts him up like he weighs nothing more than a feather. Eddie knows he doesn’t. Steve essentially manhandles him. That… should not be as hot as it is, he thinks. Steve easily carries him over to the kitchen counter and sits him down on it, hands lingering on Eddie’s hips, ghosting over his exposed skin, trailing upward toward his waist and settling there. Eddie’s slightly ticklish, and the sensation sends him into overdrive. His breath hitches and he tightens his arms around Steve’s neck. Holds onto the hair at the base of his neck, lets his hands travel upward, grabs at the longer locks there.

His rings get caught in Steve’s hair when he threads his fingers through it, tugging at the strands. Steve moans quietly, makes a breathy sort of noise. Eddie, experimentally, pulls a bit harder on his hair. Intentionally. This time, Steve whines and lets his head fall backwards along with Eddie’s hands. It gives Eddie easy access to Steve’s throat. He starts gently kissing it, right at the junction between Steve’s neck and clavicle. His skin is tastes slightly salty, and Eddie kisses upwards along it, starts sucking just below Steve’s jaw, leaving little purple bruises. He hears Steve’s breathy moans, spurring him on. He moves his hands to grab at Steve’s biceps. They’re soft at first, and turn more solid when Steve flexes and grabs Eddie’s waist harder. And then, Steve rolls his hips against Eddie’s groin where he’s sitting, just at the right height. He gasps against Steve’s neck.

”My room,” he whispers in Steve’s ear, feels goosebumps on Steve’s arm as he does. Steve pulls back and nods, takes Eddie’s hand, drags him down from the counter and starts leading them toward Eddie’s room. He practically slams Eddie’s door behind him and pushes him back against it, puts his underarms on the door on either side of Eddie’s head. As his back hits the wood, Eddie hears himself make a high-pitched noise, somewhere between a moan and a whine. Steve seems to react strongly to it, grabs at Eddie’s curls and opens his mouth hotly against Eddie’s. Eddie lets him take control of the kiss, follows his lead. 

He puts his hands on Steve’s hips, and Steve’s body responds automatically, grinding against Eddie in what starts out as soft, rolling motions. Eddie groans at the feeling, lets his head fall back against the door, and Steve takes advantage of it to place kisses all over Eddie’s throat. He, like Eddie did, starts sucking on the skin right where Eddie’s neck meets his shoulder, as if he already knows that’s where Eddie is the most sensitive. Steve’s mouth feels hot, silky, on his skin. 

”How are you… so… damn… good at this?” He asks, between small gasps. Steve smiles against his throat, and Eddie feels his teeth catch on his skin when he does. Feels the slow roll of Steve’s hips pick up in pace and intensity. 

”Practice,” he replies, ”and I’m also trying to impress you.” He bites down, and Eddie has to put one hand over his mouth to muffle a loud whimper. Steve pulls back a little, stops kissing Eddie and moves one hand from his hair to take hold of Eddie’s hand, pulls it away from his mouth and places it back on his own hip. 

”I want to hear you,” he whispers, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown as he meets Eddie’s gaze. Eddie suspects he looks the same. He feels his skin heat up impossibly more, he’s a bit embarrassed, and having Steve be so honest about what he wants is sort of killing him. 

”I´m, uh, I don´t know if you do, Steve,” he replies, a bit self-conscious. ”I don’t exactly sound like a porn actress.” Steve kisses him again, slides his tongue against Eddie’s, and Eddie feels his knees go weak. He almost ends up in an Eddie-shaped pile on the floor, but Steve grabs onto his hips and keeps him firmly in place. 

”You don´t have to. I want you to sound like you,” Steve says inbetween kisses. Eddie’s stomach fills with butterflies. Steve starts walking backwards, steering them against Eddie’s bed. When the back of his legs it the edge of the bed, he spins them around and pushes Eddie onto the bed, quickly positioning himself over him, one thigh between Eddie’s own. Eddie arches his hips up against him, throws both arms around Steve’s neck once again. Tries to pull Steve down onto him as much as possible - he wants to feel Steve’s entire body against his. Wants to feel the firm shapes all over. Steve grinds down, and Eddie whimpers out loud. Doesn’t cover his mouth this time. Steve groans against his lips at the sounds. Pulls back slightly.

”And you said you don’t sound like a porn actress,” he whispers, teasingly, and keeps moving his hips. Eddie can’t answer, completely focused on how he can feel Steve’s hard dick through his jeans. Hard for him. It’s an intoxicating thought, almost sends Eddie’s mind spinning, and only serves to keep forcing uncontrolled sounds out of him. They spur Steve on, and he’s pushing Eddie down into the mattress with every roll of his hips. 

Then he feels one of Steve’s hands drag upward along his jeans, stopping by the waistline. His breath hitches when he feels Steve’s fingertips dip down under the denim, his nails scratching slightly on Eddie’s skin. Eddie whines at the feeling, at Steve’s fingers fiddling with the zipper of his jeans, the buttons. He wishes he was wearing nothing but underwear, wishes there would be less of a barrier between him and Steve. He reaches down with his hands, helps Steve get his jeans off. Shimmies out of them. Keeps his underwear on, if only for just a moment more, to give his nerves time to calm down, his heart time to stop racing.

He wants Steve to be naked, wants to see all of him. 

”Off, off,” he whispers, and Steve stills above him immediately, removes his hands and starts pushing himself off Eddie, who realizes his mistake. ”No!” He whines, ”No, I meant your pants.” Steve sighs in relief and lowers himself onto Eddie again. 

”Thank God,” he says, ”thought you changed your mind.” 

”I would be crazy if I did,” Eddie replies, ”this is pretty much all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.” 

”Well, you’re in luck, because I have too,” Steve says with a low voice, and sits up on his knees to pull down the zipper on his pants, crawls out of them awkwardly. Eddie giggles a bit from where he’s still laying down, splays his arms out above his head. Steve frowns at him, but then gives a little smile.

”Are you laughing at me?” He asks, smile morphing into a smirk, reaching up with one hand to pull Eddie’s wrists together and hold them in place against the mattress. Oh. Just what Eddie wanted, what he fantasized about a couple weeks ago. He, again, feels as if Steve’s able to read his mind. 

”Only a little,” he teases, tilting his head up to place soft kisses along Steve’s jawline. Steve hums and turns his head to kiss Eddie properly, slides his hand underneath the fabric of Eddie’s underwear. He pulls them down, leaves them by Eddie’s knees, and then drags his hand back up. Eddie’s hips buck on their own, arching into Steve’s touch. Steve lets out a quick breath against Eddie’s mouth and the kiss turns more fervent, almost desperate. All Eddie’s blood is currently flowing south, leaving the rest of him dizzy and lightheaded. It’s a nice dizziness, though. 

When he feels Steve’s hand on him, he leans his head back against the mattress and whimpers, high-pitched and loud. Steve switches to kissing, well, sucking, on his exposed throat and it doesn’t exactly help stop the noises Eddie’s making. Steve just holds his hand on his dick for a moment, and Eddie can’t help but grind up against it. He feels Steve smirk against his throat and almost whines at the lack of movement from Steve.

”Please,” he says under his breath, ”please, Stevie, move your fucking hand,” he almost demands, desperate. Steve lets out a short laugh, holds himself up with the hand on Eddie’s wrists, pushing Eddie’s arms deeper into the mattress. 

”Alright, princess, as you command,” he teases, and starts moving his hand. Eddie thinks he’s about to come on the spot. Please don’t, he tells himself, wants this to last longer. Kind of wants it to last forever, actually. 

Steve´s hand is firm around his dick, moving slowly. He gently slides his thumb over the head of it, spreading out Eddie’s precum, using it to pump up and down easier. Eddie feels like he’s going to implode, feels the need to be closer, closer, closer to Steve. He pulls one arm free from Steve’s grip on his wrists and hooks it under his arm, bends it upward across is back, pulls him down with it. Closer, is all his brain lets him think. 

Eddie’s body pressed tighter against his seemingly encourages Steve to go faster, and Eddie hears himself let out a whiny noise. Steve’s head shoots up when he hears it, and he stares at Eddie’s face for a moment, pupils blown and cheeks a lovely red. Then he slants his mouth against Eddie’s again, kisses him insistently, tongues sliding against eachother. 

Eddie breaks the kiss after a while, looks at Steve’s puffy lips. He desperately wants to kiss them again but also really, really needs to get his words out. 

”Steve, Stevie, faster, please, I need you to-” His voice gets cut off by Steve planting his lips on his yet again, his hand moving faster with Eddie’s words. Eddie whimpers into Steve’s mouth and can feel himself get close, get pushed toward the edge, feels like he’s about to get thrown down a waterfall, or something. Steve moves his hand up and down, grinds down against Eddie as he does, effectively trapping his hand between their groins, providing friction, heavenly friction, with each roll of his hips.

”C´mon, Eds, want to hear you,” Steve says, pulling his head back and looking intently at Eddie’s face. Eddie almost feels embarrassed, wants to cover his face, and tries to do so, but Steve holds his hand firmly in place still. ”Want to see you too,” he leans down and whispers in Eddie’s ear, breath tickling against his neck, and that’s what finally pushes Eddie over the edge. A white-hot strike of lightning spreads through his whole body and he comes hard, harder than he has before, he’s pretty sure. He moans loudly as he does, hears Steve whispering encouraging words in his ear all throughout it. He can’t register quite what he’s saying, but just hearing Steve’s voice is enough. 

When he finally comes down from the high of his orgasm, Steve’s laying on top of him, panting. A mix of sweat and Eddie’s cum feels hot, sticky, wet, between their bodies. Eddie just stays there for a minute, breathing, chest meeting Steve’s with every intake of air. Then he removes his hand from Steve’s now loose grip and brings it down to the hem of Steve’s underwear. Steve stops him, puts his hand over Eddie’s.

”You don´t have to,” he says quietly, sounds a little embarrassed. Eddie cranes his neck to look down at the top of Steve’s head, and Steve tilts it back to meet Eddie’s eyes. ”I sort of already came,” he confesses, ”seeing you come did it for me.” Eddie’s chin drops. He overdramatizes it just a little.

”You’re telling me I made Steve, Steve Harrington, come in his underwear without a single touch? Wow. That’s gotta be, like, newspaper-worthy.”

”Oh, don’t make fun of me,” Steve says, faking an offended tone, ”I can’t help it when you’re here looking like that. Sounding like that.” Eddie blushes, and embarrassedly puts both hands over his still sweaty face. Feels the curls sticking to his forehead. He peers through his fingers and sees Steve’s hair in a similar state. It’s glorious.

”You can’t just say stuff like that, Stevie,” he replies. ”You might make me want to go another round.”

”I wouldn’t mind,” Steve says, smirking up at Eddie. Eddie flicks his nose. ”Ow.” Steve rubs at it, and then turns over on his back, slides off Eddie. Eddie misses the weight of his body immediately. Feels cold. And sticky, he realizes quickly. He reaches for the duvet and uses it to wipe the cum off his stomach. Steve makes a grossed-out face, even as Eddie wipes him off too.

”That’s gross, man,” he comments. Eddie stops and looks him in the eyes. Props himself up on his elbow.

”Do not call me ”man” after you just made me come harder than I’ve ever done in my life, Stevie,” he says, flinging an arm over Steve’s chest and laying down at his side with his head resting lightly on Steve’s chest. Steve laughs, and Eddie can feel the vibrations in his chest against his cheek. Can feel them again when Steve starts to speak. 

”What do you want me to call you then? Darling? Sweetheart? Baby?” He teases, and Eddie makes faces at each and every petname coming out of his mouth. None of them are any good.

”Eds.” He buries his face further into Steve’s chest. 

”Eds?” Steve says. 

”Yeah. I love it when you call me that,” Eddie tells him, lacing their fingers together. Steve tilts his head down and places a soft kiss at the top of Eddie’s head. Settles his chin against it.

”Alright. Eds,” he whispers into Eddie’s curls.