scarletyeager

[scarletyeager]

Blow Your Mind

Steddie | explicit | 4k | no cw | tags: Eddie lives, rockstar Eddie, Roadie Steve, established relationship, semi-public sex | AO3

My dearest @hbyrde36 - today is your special day (although I think you deserve every day to be special), and what better way to celebrate than with some spicy smut, right?

Right.

So, Kei, the wonderful and insanely talented artist that she is, and I are very happy to present to you our joint birthday gift. We hope you like it and that it brings you as much joy as you bring us! 💜💜💜

You can find @firefly-party beautiful, stunning and smoking hot art here (sfw) and here (nsfw).

"I promise you, Gare Bear, I’m hearing what you’re saying," Eddie says in a conciliatory tone, narrowly avoiding a collision with one of the crew members setting up the stage. They’re early for their soundcheck for once, and Eddie will deny until his dying day that it’s because he missed Steve and wanted to see him.

He’s not that whipped, okay?

Gareth huffs in disbelief. "Then why are you—"

Before he can finish, Eddie cuts him off. "I just choose to ignore it because you’re wrong."

Throwing his hands up, Gareth honest-to-God growls. He looks ready to kill him, and Eddie delights in the sight. There’s nothing more amusing than goading Gareth until he snaps.

After years together, it’s also far too easy. Eddie knows all his buttons and presses them like a toddler with their favorite toy.

But Gareth never gets the chance to go off on Eddie, because at the exact moment they round the final corner to the stage, they’re greeted by a sight that makes Eddie stop dead in his tracks—Gareth completely forgotten.

In front of him, in all its perky glory, is the most magnificent ass Eddie has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on.

Or hands. He still can’t believe he’s allowed to get his hands on this piece of art. Or his mouth. Anything, really.

It’s a lot to process, and he’s still not quite over it. Probably never will be.

Gareth, who had just drawn a deep breath for his incoming rant, notices the shift in Eddie and follows his gaze. When he realizes what has captivated their lead guitarist’s attention, he throws up his arms again. Annoyance and fondness vie for the upper hand in his voice as he mutters, "Oh, for fuck's sake! You won't hear a single thing I'm saying now, will you?”

“Uh-uh,” Eddie agrees with a dreamy sigh. Whatever. He’s busy being in love. And lust. God, how is this his boyfriend???

In the back of his mind, Eddie registers Gareth saying something else—but that’s exactly when Steve sets down the heavy amp he’s carrying.

The horny ringing in Eddie’s ears at the sight of Steve crouching—letting go of his burden only to stretch his legs while his upper body stays bent forward, ass out like a beacon in the night—drowns out anything his best friend could possibly say. Gareth could yell Fire! and Eddie would still be staring at the smoke show that is Steve Harrington in tight, light-wash Levi’s, stretched indecently over thighs and ass made by the gods.

Which is why Eddie tries to set Jeff—his oldest and best friend since junior high—on fire with his eyes when Jeff strolls over and says something to Steve that makes him straighten up, robbing Eddie of the view.

He reins his irritation in when Steve nods, crouches again, and lifts the amp, his biceps bulging and forearms flexing in a way that could honestly end civilizations.

Eddie is not proud of the whimper that escapes him—high-pitched, needy. Not his fault.

His body now associates Steve with the highest pleasures it’s ever known. Steve has basically Pavloved him into a drooling, brainless mess. All it takes is a glimpse of those arms that pinned him down so well last night, or those big hands that play him better than any of them play their instruments. Adding insult to injury, Steve flaunts his perfect torso while wearing one of their shirts with the words "Corroded Coffin" emblazoned on the front.

Despite the bustle, the smug bastard heard the undignified sound and throws Eddie a cocky wink over his shoulder.

Eddie swears Steve adds extra swagger to his walk toward the spot Jeff—watching them both like a reluctant audience to a mating dance on the nature channel—told him to put the amp. When Steve squats again, his ass is pushed out even more.

The loud rip of fabric cuts through Eddie’s thirst. He bears witness to the death of Steve’s favorite jeans, torn wide open along the seam between both cheeks, undone by the sheer pressure of his ass.

The silence that follows is deafening in Eddie’s ears, even as he barely registers that the crew doesn’t pause for more than a glance.

Still, he can tell Steve’s mortified. He hears a heartfelt fuck, but the tension in every line of Steve’s body says more. If Eddie were in front of him, he’s sure he’d see a deep blush running from Steve’s cheeks all the way down his throat.

Next to him, Gareth snorts. And sure—objectively—Eddie can see why the scene is funny. But Steve’s feelings are his first priority.

“Not a word,” he hisses, striding over to where Steve kneels with his ass on his calves, doing his best to hide the rip in his jeans.

Eddie squats down beside his boyfriend, leaning in to whisper directly in his ear. “I think I should be the only one allowed to rip your clothes off, Stevie.”

It works.

Steve huffs an amused laugh. “You couldn’t even rip my shirt open last time you tried, Munson.”

Eddie jerks back, indignant.

Then Steve lands the killing blow, deadpan: “It was a button-up.”

Clutching his imaginary pearls, Eddie dials the dramatics to eleven, determined to coax a real laugh out of the man he’s pretty sure is the love of his life.

“How dare you, Steven ‘you don’t even deserve me knowing your middle name right now’ Harrington. We can’t all be strong, athletic, good-looking, heroic jocks. That’s no reason to mock your humble, devoted boyfriend just because he wasn’t fast enough to free this dazzling—” he palms Steve’s backside lovingly “—jewel from its prison himself.”

There it is—the loveliest sound Eddie’s ears know, even better than the beautiful noises his other “sweetheart” produces: Steve’s laughter.

Not the quiet, amused huff from earlier, but deep, joyful, ringing through the open space of the stage like a private show just for Eddie.

“Alright, alright,” Steve says, still laughing as he leans some of his weight against Eddie. “I promise, next time you’re the one ripping my pants open. Maybe leave them intact, though? Those were my favorites.”

“Just because you know how spectacular your ass looks in them, show-off,” Eddie mutters.

Looking up through his lashes, Steve purrs, “Don’t tell me you weren’t enjoying the show.”

And there’s his cocky boyfriend again—humiliation forgotten. Good.

Eddie knows the crew will finish setting up soon. He knows they have a tone check to do before the show. He knows Gareth will probably murder him if he messes this up.

Unfortunately, knowledge is no match for Eddie’s lack of impulse control—or his need to be as close to Steve as humanly possible. If he thought he could get away with it, he’d cling to Steve’s back koala-style.

“How about I show you how much exactly I enjoyed it?” The promise is clear in his voice, and the hunger in his eyes says the rest.

Steve’s wheels are turning—he knows they don’t have time for this. But they wasted so much time being stupid that most days it feels like they’re still making up for it.

He nods, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Eddie wants to eat him alive.

He’s on his feet in seconds, almost bouncing with giddy energy as he sticks out his hand to help Steve up. As soon as they’re standing, he crowds close against Steve’s back, blocking the view of his ripped jeans.

“I’m showing Steve where he can change real quick. Be right back!” he hollers to the band, and they leave the stage to the sound of twin groans.

They round the same corner Eddie came from not even ten minutes ago—only for Steve to halt dead in front of him, making Eddie barrel straight into his back.

The impact knocks the wind out of him, but it doesn’t stop him from wheezing in his boyfriend’s ear, “I didn’t know you were into people watching me on my knees for you, but I could be persuaded—”

“God, no!” Steve cuts in before Eddie can finish that particular train of thought. Maybe it’s for the best. Eddie’s not sure he actually likes the idea of anyone else seeing Steve in the throes of passion.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

That pulls Eddie out of his possessive musings, because—no, actually—he doesn’t.

“Not really? We came from here earlier, so I figured we’d find the Green Room somewhere ‘round here.”

Hands on his hips, Steve radiates the same annoyed mom energy he always had with the kids back in Hawkins. Eddie really shouldn’t find it hot—especially not when he’s the one in trouble—but his dick strongly disagrees.

“Honestly, how did you survive without me?”

It’s rhetorical, but the answer isn’t. It’s also easy.

“Barely.”

Steve’s shoulders drop, along with his annoyance. Before Eddie can process it, his arms are full of the man of his dreams, and he’s being kissed—long and hard.

Like Steve needs to get his point across and make it stick.

“Come on, Bambi, I know where the Green Room is.”

It’s in the opposite direction they were going, tucked away from the bustle around the stage. They don’t run into anyone after a few turns, and Eddie’s eyes stay glued to the flashes of pale skin peeking through the rip in Steve’s jeans. Of course he’s going commando in jeans that tight.

Which is exactly why Eddie collides a second time with Steve’s strong back when he halts in front of the Green Room door.

“Uff,” is all his boyfriend says as Eddie presses him into it with his weight.

“You started it,” Eddie retorts, pushing himself off Steve—reluctantly—so they can get the door open.

Steve glares at him over his shoulder. “How in the world did I start you running into me? Again, I might add.”

Eddie gestures wildly at his boyfriend, as if it isn’t obvious.

“You’re distracting me with your hotness. Duh.”

Once they step into the blessedly empty room they’re finally—finally— alone.

In one second flat, Eddie has Steve pressed against the nearest surface, already on his knees and fumbling with the button of those cursed jeans that started his horny spiral in the first place.

The stack of hardcases from their equipment shifts a few inches backwards under the sudden impact of Steve’s weight—and Eddie’s determination to get to his boyfriend’s dick—but is thankfully blocked by the wall behind them. Otherwise, Eddie would’ve eaten concrete instead of Steve, and that sounds way too cannibalistic, even for his own weird brain.

He shoves the thought aside and crawls the few inches Steve has moved backward with the hardcases, laughing breathlessly. “Oopsie.”

“Why do I always feel like every minute with you is an accident waiting to happen?” Steve asks rhetorically—because they both know it’s true. The only person even more accident-prone than Eddie is maybe Buckley, and Steve swears he loses at least five years of his life every time they’re all together.

Eddie’s pretty sure Steve enjoys rescuing him way too much to mean the annoyance.

Case in point: the gentle hand cupping the side of his face, and the amused twinkle in Steve’s smiling eyes that accompanies his words.

“No idea. But if I die choking on this beauty”—he palms Steve over his jeans—“know I died doing what I love.”

Without much further ado, Eddie finally gets Steve’s jeans open and shoves them down to just above his knees, freeing the prettiest dick the world—or at least Eddie—has ever seen.

Granted, he hasn’t seen that many in person. Before Steve turned up on the doorstep of his LA apartment a few months ago, Eddie had been painfully unfucked. Still, he’s seen his fair share in locker rooms and magazines, and none could hold a candle to what Steve’s working with.

“Hello, my precious. I missed you,” he purrs, delighting in the way the thick cock in his hands slowly fills under his hungry gaze.

Above him, Steve groans. “I can’t believe you’re getting hard right now,” he tells his own dick, voice laced with mock disappointment.

Still, Eddie can’t let that stand.

He wets his lips and sinks down onto Steve in one swift motion, tongue sliding along the veiny shaft. It’s still impossible for him to take all of Steve into his throat—not that he’s unwilling to try, and often—but what he can fit, he does, until it bumps against the soft palate at the back of his throat.

“Fuuuuck,” Steve curses, his voice carrying in the empty room. His hands scramble uselessly for purchase against the hardcases at his back before finally gripping Eddie’s shoulder, curling in on himself. Eddie feels the tension in Steve’s thighs, the way he’s holding back—keeping himself from thrusting deeper, from making Eddie take more than he’s currently able.

God, part of him wants exactly that: to be used, to be pushed until there’s nothing but Steve filling his throat. He wants to tell Steve he won’t break, that he wants him to let go. Maybe one day. Right now, an even bigger part of him loves the care Steve wraps around him like a soft blanket on a cold winter evening.

Pulling off with a wet pop, he grins up at Steve like the cat that got the canary. “You were saying, love?”

“Oh God,” his boyfriend groans, staring down at him with dark, wide eyes. “I created a monster.”

Eddie laughs, delighted. “Nah, you only woke it from its hibernation. I’ve always been hungry for you, sweetheart.”

Steve’s face does this thing again, where his eyes go all liquid, mouth tight, brows pulled together. He looks at Eddie like that whenever something reminds him of the time they wasted - he wasted, when he let Eddie go to LA alone when he had clearly wanted Steve to come with him.

They’ve had that discussion more than once. Eddie doesn’t want to think about the what if’s, he wants to enjoy what he has right now. The man he loves, hard and aching for him, staring down at him with fond adoration.

If only the regret he sees lurking in those hazel eyes would fuck right off.

But, Steve knows better than to say anything that would ruin the mood right now, so he does the next best thing.

“Show me.”

A wild grin splits Eddie’s face, his voice full giddy delight. “I’m going to blow your mind, baby.”

For someone who struggles academically as much as he does, Eddie picks up new skills surprisingly fast. He basically taught himself to play guitar over one summer when he broke his leg and couldn’t go outside.

The song that saved the world—as Dustin still calls his rendition of Master of Puppets, pure awe in his voice—Eddie learned in just two weeks.

Steve’s dick is the first—and if it’s up to Eddie, the last—he’s ever had the pleasure of giving head to. And while he gagged rather embarrassingly the first two times, by the third he was already pulling sweet, sweet sounds from Steve. Just like with any other beloved instrument, as soon as he got the hang of handling something so precious, he made it sing.

By now, he considers himself an expert in the art of dick. A dick-pert, if you will. Or maybe just a Steve-pert.

Steve seems to agree, judging by the way he’s already leaking pre all over his pretty cock, making Eddie’s hand glide heavy and slick while his tongue teases the head—dipping in and out of the slit before circling the ridge of the glans.

His hand-eye coordination might be shit, but his hand-mouth coordination? Olympic level.

“Baby,” Steve moans, already breathless when Eddie’s only just started. “Fuck, you’re—” another, wordless moan—“so good. Perfect.”

The praise settles warm and heavy in Eddie’s chest.

“You’re so wet for me,” he marvels, catching another drop with his tongue. The bitter taste isn’t exactly pleasant, but it’s a potent reminder of how much pleasure he’s giving Steve.

It’s like Steve hadn’t noticed before, because he glances down at his cock in Eddie’s hand and the mess he’s making, eyes going wide. “Fuck, baby. Look how good you’re making me feel.”

He bunches his shirt in his fist, giving Eddie more room to work without risking suspicious stains on the black cotton.

It shows off more of his toned stomach and happy trail. Eddie loves how Steve’s body is a rich symphony of scars, moles, beauty marks, freckles, and hair. From his place kneeling on the floor, he drinks in the sight for another moment, absently stroking the thick cock in his hand while he marvels at his luck.

Eddie won’t ever say it out loud, but he’s convinced Steve is the universe’s way of thanking him for being ready to sacrifice himself to save the world.

His hands smooth over hairy thighs to grip firm ass cheeks. “Baby?”

“Hmm?”

They lock eyes, and Eddie holds the gaze when he says, “Fuck my mouth. Please.”

Then he opens up, tongue resting just above his bottom lip, and waits.

He feels the hesitation in the way Steve goes very still, a war of wants playing out in those beautiful hazel eyes. He wants to—Eddie knows that. But he also wants to treat Eddie right, to be gentle and good and careful.

Most of all, Steve wants to give Eddie everything he asks for.

So he gives in and slides into the warm, wet mouth waiting for him.

It’s heaven. The thickness of him, the heavy weight, the barely restrained strength in each shallow thrust—it all sends Eddie somewhere else entirely. Somewhere the ache in his knees or the insistent pressure of his own hard cock against his skinny jeans is nothing more than background noise. Somewhere nothing exists but the feeling of being full. Being owned.

Being undone.

Being wrecked.

Being ruined.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Lost in a lust-drunk haze, it takes Eddie a moment to realize Steve has spoken. His eyes had been closed, letting himself drown in Steve—his sounds, his taste, his scent, the silky-smooth skin and hard flesh against his tongue. Now he opens them and looks up at the only man he’s ever wanted to see him like this.

Like Eddie is the answer to every question. The only reason he’ll ever need.

Steve’s thumb grazes his cheek, and Eddie realizes he’s wiping away a stray tear.

“Beautiful,” Steve breathes again.

And the thing is—for the first time in his life, Eddie truly feels beautiful.

On his knees, red-faced, with drool and Steve’s pre leaking from the corner of his mouth, eyes wide and wet from tears—Eddie is beautiful.

He hums, happy and content to stay here for the rest of his life if he could.

Steve takes the sound as his cue to go on, rolling his hips again with a broken moan. His thrusts are still gentle but relentless, barely giving Eddie time to draw a breath. He’s getting light-headed, but that only fuels the low-simmering pleasure until it rises like a tidal wave ready to drag him under.

It should be impossible—being this close without a single hand on himself. But he’s losing it in the pleasure he’s giving, and even without touching his own cock, he can feel the telltale signs of his climax building.

Fast.

So he taps Steve’s ass, three times. They’ve never talked about it before, never needed to—because they’ve never gone this far before. Far enough for Eddie to give up all control, handing it to Steve on a silver platter of lust, love, and trust.

Steve still understands. Even caught up in his own pleasure, he’s so attuned to Eddie.

“You okay?” he asks, hips going still. His thumb smooths along Eddie’s cheekbone, underlining the question. Did I hurt you?

“I want you to come on my face.”

He’d wanted to ease into it, to explain what Steve does to him and why he needs Steve’s release marking him.

Paint me with your love.

Show me I’m yours.

But words are hard to form. He’ll tell Steve one day. For now, he just wants to be marked. Made even more beautiful with Steve’s claim on his skin.

He doesn’t wait for an answer—just starts lapping up the mix of spit and pre from Steve’s cock, sliding lower, following the trail down to his heavy balls. He buries his nose where the shaft meets them and breathes deep, musk filling his senses.

“Fuck, Eddie, you’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.” Steve’s voice is strained, and when Eddie glances past the proudly jutting cock in his hand, he finds Steve fisting his own hair, knuckles white from the tension strung tight through his body.

Eddie smirks, proud of himself. Nat 20 in sexual prowess, baby.

“That’s exactly what I want you to do, big boy. Haven’t you been listening?” He clicks his tongue for good measure.

The annoyed groan above him turns desperate as Steve throws his head back, overwhelmed by the new sensation of Eddie sucking his balls like they’re his favorite lollipop.

From there, it doesn’t take much—just the dry press of Eddie’s finger at Steve’s hole while his hand twists just right on the upstroke—and Steve loses the battle against his body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, and Eddie barely manages to aim his cock toward his face, painting it white. His only regret is having to close his eyes so he doesn’t get any in them, missing the wonder of his boyfriend’s pleasure-stricken face.

His own climax, aided by the kneading of his hand over his jeans, is almost an afterthought.

When he opens his eyes, Steve is staring down at him in awe—eyes wide, mouth parted, cheeks flushed, lips bitten red.

“Beautiful,” Steve breathes again, and Eddie thinks that if there’s a heaven, he wants to relive this moment for eternity.

Eddie barely makes it in time for soundcheck, earning more than one raised eyebrow at the way he looks.

They’d cleaned up quickly and efficiently, Steve scrubbing the come off Eddie’s face with something like mournfulness. If it were up to him, he’d go out wearing his boyfriend’s mark with pride—but apparently societal norms demand otherwise.

Eugh.

Even though they’ve made themselves somewhat presentable, they both look exactly like what they’ve been doing.

No one says anything—blessedly—until Eddie starts singing the bridge of their first song.

“What the fuck did you do to your voice, Cobain?” Gareth misses his cue on the drums, too busy pointing an accusing finger at him.

Eddie gasps, clutching his chest. “You take that back! I sound nothing like him.”

Jeff sighs. “You kinda do. You sound like you ate gravel.”

Grant, who has been watching the exchange in quiet fascination, adds in a flat tone, “Or like someone fucked your throat.”

They all turn toward where Steve had been standing just seconds ago, only to find him gone.

“Traitor,” Eddie grumbles. Ninety minutes on stage to think about how to get back at his boyfriend for abandoning him to his bandmates’ teasing scorn.

Life, Eddie decides, is pretty good right now.

[scarletyeager]

Eddie cries frequently. He’s a big ol’ emotional crier, and he’s honestly done caring who knows. Being an adult has helped, since teenagers weren’t known for emotional maturity in Hawkins. Being away from his dad had helped more, since Uncle Wayne was…well. Good people. Silent though he was, he’d grip Eddie’s neck whenever some ad on TV or a novel from the library or even his own notes for D&D made Eddie start to sniffle. He’d just sit there, firmly holding space and never demanding an explanation, or for Eddie to ‘shut the fuck up and be a man’ (thanks, oh daddy dearest). 

At this point, he didn’t hide his sensitivity for the same reason he didn’t hide many parts of his personality. It was pointless. His emotions remained, at all times, plainly on his face. He wore his glass heart on his sleeve, and his eyes acted as a portal to his soul. It made him a great storyteller, an excellent musician, and he didn’t apologize for that. 

Steve, on the other hand, is a soft-gooey-baby-boy locked in the hard candy shell of ‘My Dad Doesn’t Let Me Hug Him’. It is confusing and unfamiliar, but Eddie adjusts. Decides that Steve just doesn’t cry. He’s still affectionate, gets excited, feels very deeply, loves hard, and his exasperation at things that make him emotional is addictive. Eddie is fine with it; he cries enough for both of them. 

So, when he wakes up in the middle of the night to find Steve curled into a ball at the very edge of the bed, sniffing and silently shaking, Eddie isn’t sure at first what is even happening. It seems like Steve is asleep, but, even without closer investigation, Eddie knows he’s also definitely crying. Sobbing, in fact. The wail is silent, but it grips him completely, seals his limbs into a painful-looking tension that Eddie can’t keep watching. 

He presses his entire body into Steve’s back, nestles his face firmly into the crevice created by Steve’s impressively muscled back, mouth open and planted firmly on sweat-damp skin. He wraps his arms tightly around Steve’s torso and begins to hum. The song twists and shifts every few bars. He’s hunting for something that Steve will hear through the pain. Through the nightmare he is so obviously having. Through the memory of that night, the anniversary of Max ending up in the hospital, through the moment they’d decided Eddie was dead. Humming his way through the horrors, hopeful it will help.

When Steve finally does react, he restarts the melody with a grin against his skin; of course it would be this one. For five minutes, he puts it on a loop. Steve’s shoulders stop shaking, his body relaxes. The quiet gasps settle down. After a moment, his breathing levels out, and he opens his eyes. 

“You’re a menace,” Eddie says, gently, so quiet he’s not sure Steve will hear. “The Batman Theme? That’s what calms your subconscious? That’s just mean.”

Steve uncoils a little further, turns in Eddie’s arms. His face is wet, red. He’s also got a small, broken smile pasted on his face.

“Hey, Eds,” he murmurs, wrapping back into Eddie, tucking his chin into Eddie’s hair as he wraps their legs together. “Sorry, did I wake you up? Had a nightmare.”

“I’m okay, baby. You’re okay. Go back to sleep."

And Steve murmurs, soft sleep returning to his voice as he says. “You saved me. In the dream. Right before I woke up.” 

“That’s me,” Eddie replied fondly, drifting back into sleep as well. “Your Batman.” 

[scarletyeager]

Eddie, Steve, and Corroded Coffin go out to a bar. Eddie gets huffy that Steve and his best friend are *checks notes* actually getting along.

——

“What?” Jeff said, arching his eyebrow somewhat warily.

Eddie squinted at Jeff and took a sip of his beer. Then looked down and away with a frown.

“What, what?”

“What’ why are you glaring at me?” Jeff said, making a face.

“I am not.” Yes he was.

“Dude, come on.”

“I simply do not know what it is you’re talking about.” Eddie said, steadfast in the defense of his innocence.

Jeff huffed, glaring right back at him. Then Jeff’s eyes grew wide and he laughed out loud. Eddie frowned even harder.

“Is this about — “ Jeff dropped his voice into a whisper so the other patrons in the bar wouldn’t overhear. “Is this about Steve?” He asked incredulously.

“No.” Yes.

Because it was weird, right? Eddie knew why he and Steve were close-ish these days. They had outlasted an apocalypse together. Their bond was one fordged in fire and fear and sweat and blood.

Of course the two of them would wind up hanging out. And of course that meant Eddie would start to invite Steve around when he made plans with other friends. They couldn’t just dork around with middle schoolers all the time, fond of the little tikes as he may be.

Steve had tagging along a few times — when the guys got together to smoke, or hang out at the quarry, or go to the one bar in town that didn’t ever actually card.

He’d been worried at first that the band wouldn’t give Steve the warmest of welcomes. Steve had obviously had something of a reputation in highschool. And normally, the Jocks and the Freaks mixed like oil and water.

But he never should have underestimated that good ol’ home-grown, Harrington Charm. It didn’t take long for Jeff and Gareth and Freak to defrost. Steve was a likable guy, like a really likable guy actually, when you got to know him.

He was over at the bar buying the next round right now. What’s not to love?

And it’s not like Eddie wasn’t pleasantly surprised over the new development. He was relieved Steve had assimilated so easily into his band of misfits. Steve was, surprisingly, a bit of a misfit himself these days. And thus, he fit right in.

And then there was Jeff. Who really seemed to get along with Steve. Like really, really seemed to get along with him.

So well in fact, Jeff had just casually dropped the fact that apparently the two of them had hung out. Alone. Without Eddie.

Even thought Jeffrey is Eddie’s best friend. And Steve is his — well, Steve is his… Eddie frowned even harder, gripping his can so hard in his hand he heard it creak.

Jeff was giving Eddie a particularly annoyingly smirk.

“You two seem to be getting along.” Eddie said, almost casually. Jeff smiled, like he could see right through him.

“You’re jealous.” He declared smugly, leaning back on his stool.

“I won’t even dignify that unfounded accusation with a response.” Eddie’s eyebrow twitched. He averted his gaze. It found Steve, Gareth, and Freak at the other side of the room. They were all standing at the bar, laughing at something.

Jeff just shook his head, still grinning. He looked like he wanted to say more then decided against it.

“Spit it out.”

“You — your…?“ Jeff gestured his head in Steve’s direction with a lewd insinuation of his brow.

Eddie scoffed at him and took another sip of his drink. “Him? Please.” Eddie said, even though he could feel the blush on his cheeks as he said it.

“Dude.” Jeff rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “I am your best friend. Do not try and bullshit me.”

“He’s straight.” Eddie said definitively, downing the rest of his beer and setting the empty can aside. His gaze reverted back to Steve, standing there at the other end of the room.

He looked good tonight — though when doesn’t he, really? He had on a blue polo shirt that really brought out his eyes. His hair was perfectly styled. And those jeans. Those tight, tight… tight jeans. It was downright distracting. Eddie should probably stop staring now, he really should.

‘He’s straight’ isn’t ‘I’m not interested.” Jeff pointed out. Eddie glared at him some more. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re totally jealous.”

“I am not — “ Eddie said, “jealous. I just didn’t expect you guys to get on so well is all.” It was a Herculean effort to maintain an air of casual disaffectedness.

And Jeff grinned like he didn’t buy it one bit.

“You know — he came by my place the other day.”

“Yeah.” He grumbled, “I heard.” Eddie wasn’t pouting. He wasn’t. It’s just… him and Steve had never hung out one on one before yet. Not ever. Not really. He hasn’t so much as stepped foot in Castle Harrington. And all of a sudden him and Jeff are having play-dates? In what world is that fair?!

Eddie was being unreasonable. And he knew he was being unreasonable. Still, the knowledge he was being entirely childish has never stopped him before.

“Yeah, turns out he’s really into cars too.”

“You don’t even have a car.” Eddie said, which made Jeff laugh at him.

“No, but I work on my dad’s project car all the time. I mentioned I was having trouble getting a bolt loose changing out his carburetors,” Jeff said. Eddie has no idea what any of that means. “He told me he’d bring by some tools to help out.”

“Ok.” He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t jealous.

“He’s a good guy. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect him to be. But he’s cool. He actually helped me manage to get the old thing running finally.” Jeff said, which did actually make Eddie smile. He nodded. Because yeah, right? Who would’ve thunk it. That Hawkin’s golden boy was brave and earnest and helpful and a total babe and… Eddie sighed mournfully.

“Does this mean I don’t have to keep giving you rides everywhere.” Eddie looked up, cracking half a grin.

“Soon, hopefully. Steve said he’d be by again this weekend to help me fix the intake and after that, it should be good to drive, finally. Hopefully.” He shrugged. “At least till something else breaks.”

“That’s cool of him, to help you out.” Eddie said. Because it was true.

“Seriously.” Jeff nodded. “He knows his stuff. But — “ he said, pausing. He looked like he was studying Eddie. Eddie’s brow furrowed and he prompted Jeff to keep going.

“We got to talking.” Jeff said, almost casually. Eddie nodded along so Jeff would get to the point. “About you.”

Eddie sat up straighter in his chair.

“And?” Maybe it came across a bit too enthusiastic because Jeff didn’t even try not to laugh at him.

“I knew it! You’re totally into him.” Jeff pointed at Eddie triumphantly.

“Sure, whatever, what did he say?”

“He asked if you were seeing anybody. He said he’d couldn’t believe you were single.”

“He said that? Exact words?” Eddie blanched. Jeff snorted. So Eddie kicked him under the table. “Details, man!”

“It’s hard to believe the guys still single.” Jeff quoted. “Exact words.”

“Yeah?” Eddie felt a flutter in his stomach as he stared longingly at the object of his unwieldy affections. Steve was struggling to take a sip of his beer while holding two more in his hands. “Well? What did you say?”

“I said it’s not that hard to believe.” Jeff chuckled and Eddie would’ve kicked him again if he could pull his eyes away. He was blushing and he knew he was blushing, goddammit.

“Wait did he say it like in a, ‘because Eddie’s such a catch’ way or in a like, ‘perpetually single loser’ way?”

Jeff thought about it for a moment. “No, the first one. Definitely.”

It seemed like Gareth, Freak, and Steve were finally making their way back over. Eddie snapped out of it and turned back to Jeff.

“What else? What else did he say?”

“He mentioned he was single. He was talking about how he hasn’t been dating recently because…”. Jeff trailed off, his eyes growing wide. “No way…”

“What?” Eddie whispered urgently. “Because what?!”

“Dating stuff hasn’t been working out for him lately, I guess. And he’s holding out for the one and — I don’t know what I said, I was just like, hard part is finding it, or something. Then he said, no the hard part is figuring out how you’re supposed to not to fuck it up after you do.”

“Wait, what? Ok, but what does that — ”

“No, because — I didn’t really think about it at the time but the very next thing that came out of his mouth was him asking if you’re seeing anybody.” Jeff said, now also seemingly getting excited.

“Which, that could mean anything.”

“He didn’t ask if I was seeing someone, or Gareth, or Freak. Just you, buddy.”

Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it again. He blinked hard as he tried to process the information in his brain. Jeff, at least, seemed confident that it meant something.

And then all of a sudden, their friends had returned. Their friends and Steve — who was sitting down next to Eddie and handing him a beer.

“It was, Pabst that you said you liked right?” Steve said in with a charming, boyish smile. He leaned in to talk even though the music wasn’t even playing all that loud. Eddie nodded mutely and tried not to melt.

“Good. That’s what I thought.”

“I on the other hand, hate Pabst.” Jeff said, taking a sip anyways.

“Oh right, I totally forgot you mentioned.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Next time.”

Jeff was looking over at Eddie pointedly. Making some kind of face. What he wanted Eddie to do exactly, he hadn’t the foggiest. Eddie licked his dry lips, suddenly nervous.

He never thought he’d ever actually have a chance with the guy. He’s still pretty sure he doesn’t. But…

“Hey Steve,” Jeff said, making the decision for him, “Eddie mentioned he’s been having transmission problems and — “

“Let me take a look at it, then.” Steve blurted out before Jeff could even finish. Steve looked over with a wide smile.

Eddie was not, in fact, having transmission problems. But no way in hell was he gonna say that. Shit, he’d take a hammer to that van’s transmission himself if it meant he and Steve had a play-date of their own on the books. Though he’d probably need Jeff’s help finding the goddamn transmission in the first place.

[scarletyeager]

should we all kill ourselves x

[scarletyeager]

The Set Up (AITAH Steddie Au)

This is the last chapter, guys! Thank you to every single person who read or commented or liked this series. It's been fun!

Part One, Part Seven: Epilogue (you are here)

Also on Ao3

Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

It’s been six months since he last talked to Gareth. Just over eight since he met Steve.

Things were difficult, those first few weeks. It was one thing to say goodbye to Gareth, it was another thing for the loss of his band and the reconfiguration of his friend group to become permanent things.

Freak and Steve were his rocks in those early days. Steve and him had taken the rest of their weekend to wrap around each other, Eddie calling out and Steve skipping class on Monday for good measure. They didn’t talk about what happened until Monday evening, letting themselves breathe.

Tuesday, Freak gave him space. He figured Jeff probably filled him in, which he appreciated. When Eddie was ready to ask, he confirmed what he already suspected, that he had no idea about how Gareth felt about him all these years. It was nice, knowing that he wasn’t just blind. Made him feel better about his decisions. He’d invited him over for some guy time after their shift, watching TV reruns and getting high like the old days.

Steve took the time alone in his apartment to self-care and debrief with Robin, asking Eddie for a couple of days to center himself. As much as Eddie craved closeness, it was also good to have a couple nights on his own. A breather from the onslaught of complicated emotions.

After that, something shifted. The time to recalibrate seemed to settle them in ways that Eddie didn’t know were needed. Eddie spent more days at Steve’s place than he did at his own, sacrificing the slightly longer commute to work for the new domesticity blooming between them. They could never be accused of taking this slow, but Eddie didn’t feel like he was afraid to blink, lest the wonderful turn his life had taken disappear before his eyes.

His days began with Steve starting up the coffee machine and ended with the two of them trying to scrounge something edible together between their combined skills. With the new and permanent change to his schedule, he found himself with more time in the evenings and an interest in cooking than he ever had before. It’s a nice reason to call Wayne and ask him what he can think to make with a can of green beans and some shredded cheese, and the look on Steve’s face when he gets back from class at the end of the day makes his efforts worth it.

He misses music like a limb. He talks to Jeff, but they don’t hang out right away, and without a drummer, the band is on indefinite hiatus. They could try and find someone to take Gareth’s place, but it doesn’t feel right. If he’s being completely honest, he knows they all gave up on making a profession out of music years ago. They play the occasional gig and sell homemade CDs and have a place in the local scene, but it’s never going further than that.

Still, those times on the stage felt like the closest thing to religion Eddie ever got. But time moves on. A month passes with no news. Two months in, Eddie walks into work to find Gareth and Jeff at the counter, talking to Freak. It’s awkward, and Eddie has to tamp down the instinctual flare of indignation to see them in his place of work, but they leave quickly, Gareth giving him a tight smile as he slinks out the door. Jeff even stops to talk to him a little before he heads out.

A barrier breaks after that. Him and Gareth don’t hang out, but they see each other in passing. He catches a glimpse of him behind the door when he picks Jeff up to hang for the first time since their break a week after the day at the game store. A month later, they nod to each other at a party Steve takes him to, Eddie tightening his arm around Steve’s waist as they make their way further in. It hurts a little less each time.

He starts to write more. He finds that there are so many things that inspire him, these days. He writes songs and poems and campaign ideas and even starts fleshing out his own TTRPG system, a long time pipe dream of his. 

When he shares the new lyrics with Freak, he encourages him to set them to music. A guitar and a bass don’t make a band, but there’s no reason they can’t jam it out every now and then, and who knows? Maybe one day they’ll start a new project, or Eddie can pick up his old machine from Wayne’s and fulfil some other, more romantic dreams of starlit serenades.

Before he knows it, he’s found a new normal. It’s not the chaotic, rock star lifestyle he’d always thought he wanted, but he feels fulfilled in ways he knows no one in his long family history has ever had.

Steve tells him he loves him four months after the confrontation, giving Eddie his own key over homefires and eggs, Eddie’s newest cooking obsession. Eddie calls Wayne that night, crying happy tears. He’s pretty sure he’s found his forever person.

Six months since he talked to Gareth. Eight months since he met Steve. Today, he’s 27.

It feels like one of those nothing birthdays that happen in the years before milestones, but he knows better than that. It’s his first birthday with Steve, and they’re spending it on the lake with their closest friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re a summer baby,” Steve says. Their lounge chairs are pulled up close together as they take a break from swimming. 

He can see Robin and Freak lounging on matching flamingo innertubes, holding onto each other’s handles so they don’t float away. They are both relentless and unexpected gossips and get on like a house on fire. Nancy, Jonathan, and Jeff have pulled their loungers half into the water, submerging their feet and legs and carrying on a leisurely conversation.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, lover boy. Not all of us can have perfectly thematic birthdays.” Learning that Steve was a Valentine’s baby had been both a shock and made perfect sense. It was the center of their worst argument, because Steve didn’t say anything when Eddie asked if they could postpone their Valentine’s Day plan to the week after for work. Steve had been hurt, and Eddie had been upset at the lack of communication. That incident had required quite a bit of floor time.

He pokes Steve a couple of times with his foot just to be annoying, which Steve grabs by the ankle to bring into his lap, forcing Eddie half into his chair. Not that he’s complaining. Steve rubs his thumb along the dimple of his ankle, and Eddie thinks this is the best birthday he’s ever had.

They share a couple of lazy kisses under the late summer sun until Robin and Freak ambush them with the water guns Eddie packed himself, inciting an epic water fight that ends with Steve avenging Eddie’s untimely death by dunking Freak under the waves.

They end the night with booze and music and roasted weenies, Eddie’s heart and stomach full. There’s a moment, as the conversation dies down with the sun, where he longs acutely for Gareth to be there with them, but he lets it pass.

Tomorrow, him and Steve will wake up and drive the three hours to Wayne’s house to spend a long weekend with his uncle. A day after they get back, he’ll call Robin while Steve goes on his morning jog and ask her to come with him to the jewelry store. In a handful of months, after some intense planning, he’ll pop the question on their one year anniversary.

Maybe between it all, he’ll call Gareth, get the guys together for the first time in almost a year.

Maybe he won’t.

Either way, he knows that he’s going to be ok. He’s going to be happy.

And he’s never letting go of what he’s got.

------

Tag List

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[scarletyeager]

My take on The Kiss by Francesco Hayez for the @steddiecaz

[scarletyeager]

Steve groaned, draping himself across the counter at Family Video. Robin rolled her eyes beside him.

The store was empty other than Eddie, who had dropped by to say hi before being sucked into Steve’s wallowing.

“Dingus, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Robs, it’s the worst. How do you both have the worst types ever? Between the two of you I should be able to find some common ground,” he whined dramatically.

“I feel like us not ogling at the same people should be a good thing. Zero chance of competition,” Robin offered.

“Can we circle back to worst types ever? Cause, rude?” Eddie interjected.

Steve’s attention slid over to him. “All the guys you look at are like George Michael wannabes.” He cringed.

Eddie gaped at him. “No way-”

“You do like a pretty boy, Munson.” Robin flashed him a knowing smirk.

His face turned red and he tugged a strand of hair to cover it. “Shut up, Buckley.”

“See, the worst. And you-” Steve turned his bitchy expression to Robin. “You’re like obsessed with quiet types!”

Robin scoffed. “I am not.”

“Robs, last time we went out you hit on the girl reading a book at the bar.” Steve gave her a look at dared her to challenge him.

She opened her mouth to object, then frowned.

Steve gave a satisfied nod. “See. So, what am I supposed to do with you too? You always judge the people I point out!”

Robin narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, because you like obnoxious freaks.”

“Well, I tried to ask you out when we first met so,” Steve grinned.

“We agreed never to talk about that!”

Steve shrugged before leaning face down against the counter with a huff.

Across from them, Robin saw Eddie nearly having an aneurysm at some new information. She raised a brow at him.

“If only there was a simple solution to this situation.” She made eye contact with Eddie.

He blanched. “I gotta go.”

Robin watched as Eddie retreated in a panic. The bell above the door marking his exit.

Steve stood up straighter. “Think he got the hint?”

“You’re both idiots.”

[scarletyeager]

Fantasy AU where Eddie is a famous thief, leader of a crew. They travel all around, making up elaborate plans to steal from noble families. Eddie is just genius. His plans are basically flawless, and it’s been years since the royal guards last caught one of his men.

As crew leader and brain behind all the planning, Eddie is the one who gets info from a bunch of different sources. One of his sources is Hopper, leader of Eddie’s first crew and his father figure growing up. The man taught everything to Eddie and always gives the best information about new targets and rumors of treasures and stuff.

As his crew keeps watch on their new target, Eddie goes to the town’s tavern to meet Hopper and get some inside info on the family they’re planning to steal from. He chooses a table with clear view of the door, asks the barman for a beer and waits.

Only problem is that Hopper doesn’t show up. Eddie drinks his beer, asks for another, drinks that one too and asks for a third. Nothing. No sign of Hopper or anyone from his crew. Last time he couldn’t make it to their meeting, he had sent Will and El in his place, but this time no one comes.

Minutes turn into an hour, then two. Eddie nurses his beer, watching the liquid and asking himself if he should go back to his crew; Hopper is clearly not coming, something important must have happened to keep him busy.

Eddie is finishing off his drink, ready to leave, when the tavern door opens and a man walks in. And not just a man, a gorgeous man. Like, drop dead gorgeous, with perfect hair and nice skin dotted with moles and a pair of beautiful brown eyes. That is enough to catch Eddie’s attention.

The man looks around, as if searching for someone in the small noisy crowd filling the tavern. He doesn’t seem to find whoever he’s looking for because he passes all the tables and goes to the bar instead. The man asks something to the barman and the barman shakes his head in response. Pretty boy deflates a little but ends up taking a seat by the bar and asking for a drink.

Eddie watches the man for a while; he doesn’t seem like he belongs there. He’s too pretty, his clothes are too nice. He also looks nervous, looking over his shoulder every few moments as if afraid someone might do something to him if he’s not paying attention.

When one of the patrons decides to approach, and basically corners pretty boy against the bar, Eddie intervenes.

The man scrams back to his own table as soon as he sees Eddie there. Good. Eddie may be a thief, and he may prefer to keep his head down and not to draw attention to himself, but he’s not above getting into a fight to defend a pretty face like that against assholes who can't take no for an answer.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks once the other man is gone, back to his table.

“Yes, thank you,” pretty boy says, clearly relieved. He then opens a beautiful, beautiful smile and offers Eddie a hand. “I’m Steve.”

“Steve, huh?” Eddie takes the man’s hand but, instead of shaking it, drops a light kiss to the back of it, making him blush hard. “I’m Eddie. What such a pretty little thing like you is doing in this kind of place?”

“I’m looking for someone, but I don’t think they’re here yet.”

“Hm, would you like to join me? I’m waiting for someone too. We can wait together, what do you think?”

The man hesitates for just a moment before offering Eddie a grateful smile and following him back to his table.

Steve, Eddie soon finds out, is a delight. He’s sweet, blushes whenever Eddie flirts with him, but gives as good as he gets. They have a drink together, Eddie tells him a couple of stories about his friends to make him laugh. Steve does not have any wild stories, but he’s more than happy to listen to Eddie’s.

Whoever it is that the man was waiting doesn’t show up, at least not for the time they drink and chat at Eddie’s table. No one from Hopper’s crew shows up either, but Eddie can’t even say he’s mad at Hopper for wasting his time anymore; at least he got the chance to meet Steve tonight, so it’s not all bad in the end.

At some point, Eddie takes both their empty mugs and walks to the bar to get a refill with the bartender. It doesn’t take Eddie five minutes to get their fresh drinks, but when he gets back to their table Steve’s seat is empty and the man is nowhere to be found. On the table, there’s only a small notebook and a piece of parchment folded on top of it.

Confused, Eddie puts the mugs down on the table and takes the parchment, unfolding it. It’s a simple note; written in some handwriting he doesn’t recognize.

‘It was a pleasure finally meeting you, Eddie. You really are the charmer Joyce told me you were. I hope the information in this notebook is enough for what you have in mind, that’s everything I could gather after I infiltrated the Hagan estate this spring. Hopper says hi, by the way.

Love, Steve.’

Speechless, Eddie looks at the note, then at the notebook filled with everything he needs for his next plan, then back at the note in his hand. He starts laughing; he had not seen that one coming. Damn Hopper always gets the best assets for his crew.

[scarletyeager]

may I humbly offer this sappy scene that has lived in my head for months. roommates era, buck's about to sign a lease, and eddie will not let that happen

it's about the Yearning you see

(also, tap for better quality!)

[scarletyeager]

afternoon nap (and you’re in love)

[scarletyeager]

Had, not exactly an evil thought...maybe more so just sad and angsty but in the way that relates to my life—anyway—I had a thought.

——— Steve invites Eddie over for dinner with his parents. He insists, "They're going to like you, I promise. They just...my parents have a lot of, like, career and school expectations for me. But they're—My parents are capital 'C' Cool about some of the progressive stuff, swear."

"Is that your way of saying that they're okay with gay?"

"Sure, yeah. This is my way of saying they won't give a shit that I'm dating a guy, just as long as I don't, y'know, suck dick at the table, I guess."

So, Eddie goes over. He has Wayne drop him off with a pat on his shoulder, a good luck. He's wearing his absolute best attire, despite being told to just be himself. A nicely ironed form-fitting red t-shirt, his only pair of non-holed black jeans, and his Reeboks as white as he could possibly make them. He brushed his teeth an extra two minutes, did the whole curl care regime that Steve had marketed to him like a bloodhound salesman, and he even polished his rings. Safe to say, Eddie believes he's presentable enough.

Steve greets him with a quick peck on the cheek. Takes the bouquet of white baby breath and orange tulips Eddie had purchased on the way over—"For your mom, Stevie." And he's led into the dining room, lit with the soft glowing overhead light, a floral runner that's been freshly placed on the table, a fine set of white dishes all set at various spots. He's sat on one side next to Steve, while Mr. and Mrs. Harrington sit across from them.

He gives Richard Harrington a firm, confident handshake. He gingerly shakes Amelia Harrington's, with a compliment about her purple dress with its gorgeous large pearl buttons. They eat lasagna, laugh over white wine that Eddie didn't even know the Harrington's would allow, and ease into back and forth conversations.

Jokes and hobbies and what he does for work, what his plans are for the future, how nice he seems to fit with Steve, about his parents and that's—

Steve cuts into the conversation with a, "Mom, Dad, let's not talk about that right now, okay? It's not...not a pleasant conversation, yeah?"

So that's where it's left.

It's so weird, though. Eddie had always expected Mr. and Mrs. Harrington to be uptight, snobby, elegant little assholes. From what Steve had always droned on and on about in high school, of course. However, they're peachy and polite and sweet. They nitpick about Steve's choice of career a couple times, sure. And they sigh when Steve makes a joke out of place. But they're so incredibly kind to Eddie.

They make him feel welcomed. And that's when—

"Hey, um, I'm sorry to cut into our dessert time"—because there's also this gloriously frosted chocolate cake sitting in the center of the dining table—"but, uh, do you folks care if I step outside really quick to have a smoke? I don't...I think it'd be grody if I got smoke all over the food, y'know?"

They let him. Mrs. Harrington shows him to the ashtray, the best spot on the backyard patio to put out his cigarette, and closes the backdoor with a soft click.

It's not like he doesn't want to be in there. He does. He so totally does. It's just—

Eddie will never get the chance to introduce his parents to Steve. His mom, who was the apple of his eye, the ground beneath his feet, and the sun high in the sky. And his dad who, if he hadn't experienced such heavy grief while also trying to raise a tantrum having child, could've been an actual gentleman.

Steve's met Wayne. They get along like a house on fire. That's great.

But it's not the same.

Not only that, but he had seen so many family photos in all the times he's visited Steve at his house. So many family portraits where Steve is small and missing teeth, to his high school graduation, to just this last Thanksgiving a mere week ago. All of their smiling faces. The somewhat bougie outfits, yet the warm looks accessorizing. And, also—what really stood out to Eddie—the wrinkles that got deeper and deeper, the white hair that sprouted and sprouted, the older and older Steve's parents got.

They aged. Steve has been able to see them age every single fucking day. He probably doesn't think much of it. Just that he gets to see his parents day in and day out. That they've always been his parents. Even in the worst of Steve's time where he tried to have a mini rebellion.

Eddie didn't get to see his own parents age. His dad's been in prison for years now—and god knows that Eddie doesn't feel comfortable enough to look his dad in the eye, let alone go out and visit him. And his mom? Well, his mom's been dead since he was six years old. She was young as hell, too—as was his dad when he went to prison.

He supposes he's jealous, but that shouldn't—

The backdoor opens again. Eddie whips around to see who's coming outside with him, to soak in his smoke.

Instead of Steve, it's Mrs. Harrington.

"Oh! Um, Mrs. Harrington! Am I—Was this not the right spot to"—

"Sweetheart, are you okay? Steve's in there telling me that there's maybe something wrong. And, as much as I tried to tell him you were only outside for a smoke, I couldn't help but notice that your cigarette is going abandoned."

Eddie looks down at the wilting cigarette in his hand. Yeah, he should've actually been smoking, he guesses. "I'm, uh...yeah, I guess my head's somewhere else, Mrs. Harr"—

"Eddie, honey, you can just call me Amelia."

"Right. Amelia. Look, I'm sorry for making up an excuse. I just needed some fresh air."

She steps forward, slotting herself right next to him. Watches him put out his cigarette in the ashtray. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong," she says softly, "but I promise you I'll listen if you want to talk."

He sucks in a slow, shaky breath. Nods once to himself. Blinks the wet away from his eyes. And—"I think I'm jealous? Of Steve."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's silly, really. I just..."—he shrugs, stuffing his hands into his front pockets—"...he's shown me all the family portraits and stuff, y'know, when it's just he and I over here. And I just...I get to finally meet these parents, these wonderful, doting, worrywarts of parents...and I realize, like, right at their dinner table, that they're the real deal. Like...like...they got older outside of the photographs? And"—he finally darts his eyes over to Amelia, searching for something, she nods in gentle understanding back at him—"um, my parents? My dad, he's in prison...has been for a while. My mom...my mom, she's...she died when I was six years old.

"I didn't..."—he huffs a stupid little breath—"it's so stupid to get upset over this, I feel like. I didn't get to see them age. And I guess I'm just jealous because Steve has grown up with such lovely fucking parents"—he slaps a hand over his mouth quickly, muffled—"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to swear like that."

She brushes a hesitant, small hand down the center of his back. "It's okay, honey," she murmurs, "you're probably feeling a lot. Use whatever colorful language you need."

He nods at her. Drops his hand. "I am so grateful that you guys are welcoming me here," he whispers, "but I'm also so fucking sad that I won't ever get to share Steve with my own parents, y'know? And that I won't see my parents again. I'm just sore, I guess. I'm just really sore."

Amelia sniffles next to him and he quickly retrieves the bandana from his back pocket—cleaned and nicely folded—and hands it over to her. She takes it with a shaky, muttered "Thank you." After she dabs at her eyes, wipes the end of her nose, she turns Eddie toward her, and briefly shares a warm, sweet hug. When she pulls back—"I was in your position, too."

"Really?"

"Mhm. It broke my heart when I couldn't share Richard with my parents, too. But...but, it made me realize that maybe I didn't need to. Because Richard's parents loved me like I was their own." She runs her nimble hands down his arms, squeezing at his fingers at the end. "You are a very kind, good, sweet kid, Eddie. And you are so wonderful with our Stevie. And I already feel myself loving you like you're my own. I know, though, that none of that changes what you're missing.

"But...well, you'll miss out on a lot more if you focus too much on what you've already lost. I learned that the hard way, trust me." She refolds Eddie's bandana. Takes his face in her left hand. With a clean corner of the cloth, she dabs at his tacky cheeks. "When you're ready to come inside, we'll have the cake all nice and cut. We'll celebrate you two with another glass of wine. And...and I promise, Eddie honey, if you ever, ever need a motherly hug or a good burly dad hug, you can always find Richard and I. We are happy to welcome you in with our arms, okay?"

He simply nods. Fusses with the bandana when she gingerly places it back in his hands. And he watches her retreat back inside.

A few moments later, when he's calmer and collected, he toes himself back inside. Swipes his hair to hide behind his ears, and smiles brightly at his little pseudo family at the table.

Steve spots him, a crinkle between his brows. "Eddie? You alright?"

"I'm...No, but I'm better than I was earlier."

"Oh, Eds, I'm sorry."

He settles back in his dining chair. Flashes a small smile at Richard and Amelia. And glints it at Steve, too. "It's alright, baby. Just...guess I needed a good mom hug. I'll be okay."

———

[scarletyeager]

wedding police

written for the @steddiebingo round one main card | prompt: jim hopper | rated: t | wc: 1 k | tags: hopper pov, hopper/byers wedding, getting caught, humor

read on ao3

Hopper makes it halfway through his wedding reception before he sneaks away to have a cigarette. 

On his way out, he catches Joyce’s– his wife’s eye. She’s talking to Karen Wheeler but pauses to shoot him a radiant smile and wave at him, her ring sparkling, making Hopper smile back before he exits the tarp they set up in their new backyard for the occasion. 

He doesn’t have any cigarettes on him so he walks over to his truck to retrieve one. He sticks it between his lips, and leaning back against the passenger door, he lights it up. 

He relaxes, blowing the smoke onto the night air. After a couple more puffs, something catches his attention. 

A few cars down, he sees Eddie Munson’s van, its light on. Hopper assumes he left it like that by accident until he sees the van rocking a little, suggesting that there’s someone inside.

Hopper doesn’t remember seeing the kid inside, not since he dragged Max and El to the dancefloor, twirling them both around at the same time while Max groaned and El giggled. Like Hopper, Eddie might've snuck out of the wedding to smoke– or God forbid, Hopper thinks, to deal. 

He runs a hand down his face. Over the years, he has let Munson off the hook a few times, sending him off with only a warning, but dealing at the Chief of Police’s wedding is a new level of stupid and Hopper thinks it warrants a scolding at least.

After putting his cigarette out, Hopper makes his way to the van. He grabs the handle and starts talking at the same time he yanks the backdoor open. 

“Munson, you better not be dealing in there, or so help me God, I will arrest you–”

His words cut off abruptly when he gets a look inside the van. 

Because the kid isn’t dealing, he isn’t even smoking. 

He’s straddling someone. 

“Jesus H. Christ, Hopper!” Munson shrieks, somewhere between flustered and pissed off. “Ever heard of knocking?”

He’s frantically trying to fix his clothes, careful to hide whoever’s underneath him from view so Hopper can’t see them. 

Him. 

Because that’s definitely not a girl under Munson if the pants and the dress shoes that Hopper can see are anything to go by.

Hopper doesn’t have anything against that, of course not, but he knows that others do and if they had been the ones to catch these two like this then things could’ve gone badly, making this more stupid than selling weed at a wedding where half of the police department is in attendance.

Stupid kids, Hopper thinks with a sigh. They could benefit from their own Don’t Be Stupid set of rules. Really there would only be one, easy enough to remember: Don’t get caught making out with your– boyfriend? Is that what these two are?

“If ya wanted privacy, kid, you should’ve locked the door,” Hopper says gruffly.

There’s a snort from the other boy and Eddie frantically shushes him before rolling his eyes at Hopper. “We didn’t think anyone would come looking for us.”

“I didn’t,” Hopper says, shrugging. “Saw the light on and thought you were selling drugs.”

Now it’s Munson’s turn to snort. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Chief, I don’t do that,” he says, shooting Hopper what’s supposed to be an innocent grin. “And if I did and that’s a big ‘if’, Hop, I’m a model citizen, it offends me that you think I’d be stupid enough to do it here,” he adds with that dramatic flair of his. 

“You’re so full of shit, Eddie,” an amused voice says. 

A voice Hopper recognizes right away. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide when he hears it, and he puts a finger over his lips and lets out a frantic shhhh!

Only it’s too late– Hopper recognizes not only the voice but the fancy dress pants and the shiny shoes that Steve Harrington showed up wearing to his wedding. 

Munson and Harrington, huh? Hopper can’t say he saw that coming.

Identity revealed, Steve sits up and Eddie has no choice but to slide off of his lap. His head whips back and forth between Steve and Hopper’s faces, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

Harrington, on the other hand, is looking real smug. “Hey, Hop.”

“Harrington,” Hopper says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Would’ve expected you to be smarter than to get caught like that.”

Brushing a hand through his messed up hair, Steve gives a shrug. “Got a little distracted. It won’t happen again.”

At that, Eddie's head snaps in his direction. “It won’t?” He asks in disappointment.

Steve’s expression turns soft. “I meant getting caught, Eds. The kissing on the other hand–” He winks and Munson’s cheeks go bright red. 

“Oh,” he says with a pleased smile.

Hopper can’t help but feel like he’s intruding. He wants to go back inside, but he knows that as soon as he does, these two will probably start sucking face again, not a care in the world about who might catch them. 

He sighs. They’re stupid kids, sure, but he cares about them, damn it.

“Listen, you– if you boys need a place with a lock and some privacy, the cabin is empty. There’s a key under a faulty board on the porch,” he says, smoothing his moustache down with his fingers, his other hand resting on his hip.. “Just– don’t use it to sell drugs. Hear that, Munson?” 

“Chief, I’m outraged that you’d think–” Eddie starts while dramatically clutching his chest but it’s Harrington’s turn to shush him, covering his mouth with his hand.

“No drugs. Got it, Hop, thanks,” he says, flashing him a charming grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hopper muses. 

Harrington wiggles his fingers at him and Munson offers a dorky soldier salute. With a rueful shake of his head, Hopper starts walking back to his wedding reception to find his wife. She will be proud of how he handled that, so much better than when he caught El and the Wheeler kid kissing for the first time–

Hopper’s face twists into a frown. 

Now that he thinks about it, he hasn't seen his daughter or Mike for a while either.

“God damnit,” he mutters under his breath and goes looking for them. 

[scarletyeager]

Steve doesn't think much about Eddie Munson until that fateful prom night. He gets roped into helping with overseeing the event and making sure people don't get (too) drunk.

He sees Chrissy Cunningham sitting on her chair, freshly broken up with Jason Carver. Of course, no one dares to invite her to dance, in everyone's eyes she's still Jason's, and she's going to come to her senses in a week or two and beg him to give her another chance. So Chrissy just sits there, smiling at the dancing couples with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

Enter Eddie Munson, in a suit that hangs on him like a vampire costume, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. He heads directly to Chrissy, gives her a theatrical bow, and asks in a hilariously fake British accent, "May I have this dance, oh fair lady? Have mercy on this humble peasant, grace him with your glorious presence! I swear on my uncle's honor I took a shower before coming here. That's how far I'm willing to go!"

Steve is standing close enough to see and hear it all. How Eddie's eyes sparkle with mischief, the vein on Jason's forehead looks ready to pop with anger, but it all gets overshadowed by a snort and barely contained laughter. He stares at Chrissy, grabbing her sides and with tears in her eyes. Steve has never heard her laugh like that. No one in the school has.

As the unlikeliest pair of all begins to dance, Steve hears a commotion from another table. Jason gets up with his cronies, eyes never leaving Chrissy and Eddie. His fingers are twitching, and Steve can overhear snippets of what he's saying. "Freak," "teach him a lesson," and more. Steve knows all those thoughts too well, after all, even if he never said them, he used to think them sometimes.

But he's a better person now. He's changed. So he stands in front of Jason's attempt at a lynching mob and says "sit down. Or I'll ask Chief Hopper to escort you out for threatening other students."

Jason argues. Threatens. Tries to rile people up. And then he says that Steve doesn't understand, that Chrissy is his.

Steve gives him the most deadpan look he can muster over his rising anger. "Yours? Wow, Carver, I thought it was Munson who failed the history class. We don't do the whole owning people business, have you forgotten? We even had a whole war about it."

He hears a maniacal cackle somewhere behind him and he doesn't need to turn around to know that it was Munson. It feels good, knowing he could make him laugh.

Carver sputters in his rage. "As if you understand anything, Harrington. After you and Wheeler-"

And yeah, that still hurts. But not as much as it used to, with Robin, Dustin and all the kids.

Steve lays a hand on Carver's shoulder and squeezes. Not too much, but just to get his point through. "That's exactly it, Carver. What Nancy taught me is that love can't be forced. So if you love Chrissy, really love her as you claim you do, you will let her go. You don't get to decide what makes her happy."

It takes way longer than Steve would have liked, but he finally makes Carver leave. He then sits down on his chair and keeps monitoring the dancing crowd. Chrissy is still smiling and Eddie is too, sometimes locking eyes with Steve.

After the dance is over, Steve waves at them. "I asked Hopper to keep an eye on things at the entrance, but if you prefer, I can let you out through the back. I'm hoping Carver gave up for now, but you can't be too careful."

As he walks them out, Eddie looks like he wants to tell Steve something, but in the end, he just bows down and in the same accent, he says, "this humble peasant is in your debt, Sir Harrington. May your hair forever be magnificent."

Steve snorts and, trying his hardest to remember some details from the kids' Hellfire campaigns he overheard when waiting to drive them home, returns the bow. "There is no debt, oh humble peasant. After today, my holy quest is to make Jason Carver miserable. Or something."

Eddie clutches his chest and looks like Steve slapped him, so his impression probably sucked, but before he can apologize, Chrissy squeezes his hand and beams at him with a quiet thank you.

Steve watches the two of them drive off and thinks, good for them. Then he goes home and forces his brain to shut up about that mischievous smile. He's not gay or anything like that and he's genuinely happy for Chrissy. It's just that he'd also love to find what Eddie and Chrissy have. Something genuine.

Yep. That's where the feeling of jealousy stems from. Nothing else.

The last piece of puzzle falls into place when Steve's shift ends an hour earlier, so he decides to surprise Robin with her favorite milkshake. He barges into her bedroom as usual, except this time she's not alone. In fact, she's glued to a pair of lips that just happen to belong to Chrissy Cunningham.

He freezes. They do the same. He offers them the two shakes he brought and awkwardly apologizes to Chrissy for not knowing her favorite flavor.

Chrissy, still red in face, laughs and says that it's fine. "But if you need to know Eddie's, it's strawberry. In case...you know. If you're like us."

And Steve has so many questions, so many thoughts and personal revelations, and how dare Robin not mention her new girlfriend by name when she told him?!, but the first thing he needs to ask is the most important question of the century.

"Does that mean Eddie is single?!'

(he is, but not for long)

[scarletyeager]

The Set Up (AITAH Steddie Au)

Surprise! A new chapter in less than two days! From me! The confrontation continues.

Part One, Part Six (you are here)

Also on Ao3

Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“Gareth is in love with you!”

Hold on.

Pause.

What?

“What?” There’s no way he heard that right. He must be losing his mind.

“Gareth, man. He’s in love with you. Has been in love with you since he was like, fourteen,” he says. 

“No, he’s not. What the fuck? That’s absurd.

“Shit, Eddie. I can’t believe I just told you that. I promised to never tell you that, Jesus fuck.” Jeff is freaking out, swiping his palms together and rubbing a hand over the top of his head.

“No, no. Back up. Never supposed to tell me? What the hell?” Jeff isn’t taking it back, and despite what recent history might suggest, Jeff wouldn’t joke about this.

“Fuck, Fuck! Okay. Look, Gareth has had this thing for you since we were kids, dude. I’m not kidding, I swear. But he’s been trying to get your attention for years, especially after Rick.” Eddie is pretty sure he’s having a stroke. Nothing is making sense.

“And I could never tell if you knew already or not. And then Gareth was finally old enough for you to look his way, and then you swore off dating. And meant it!” Eddie is very slowly coming to terms with the fact that this is his life. This is happening.

“He was just–he couldn’t let it go. He’s been pining for so long and it was so hard to watch. Then he came to me with this plan and I just wanted to give him a win.” He’s vomiting words, like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to purge them. “I let him talk me into it.” At least he has the decency to look ashamed.

“Jesus,” Eddie says, pinching his nose and closing his eyes. It’s too much. He wasn’t remotely prepared to deal with this today. He wants to call bullshit. Wants to tell Jeff to fuck off and go find Steve so they can leave. He wants to, but he can’t stop the flood of memories that comes to him unbidden. 

How Gareth was always available to hang out when Eddie called. His staunch defense of Eddie when even he knew he was in the wrong. The way he always looked to him for approval. Eddie always read it as older sibling-esque hero worship, and maybe that’s part of it, but under this new lens, it all becomes skewed.

He closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips hard to his forehead, willing the memories away. Too much, just too much. How was he supposed to know? Did he know, and was just deluding himself? 

No, he wouldn’t do that, not to Gareth of all people. His friend, his brother, his youngest sheep. Eddie wouldn’t have let him twist himself up like that.

He’s got questions. So many fucking questions and he hasn’t actually addressed any of what Jeff just dropped on him and he looks like he’s going to throw up but he never gets the chance to do anything about it.

The door to the house slams open, banging against the wall with a loud clang. Eddie doesn’t care about that. What he cares about is Steve, who was supposed to be outside, not inside the house. Who he forgot about, again. How long has he been gone? Long enough for him to finish a cigarette three times over.

He’s walking quickly, hugging the wall and ducking his head with his shoulders up, like maybe they won’t notice him if he doesn’t look them in the eye.

Eddie intercepts him, grabbing him gently by the shoulders. “Hey, hey baby. What’s wrong? Something happened?” He thinks he knows what happened. Who happened, that is. The pity he had been building turns sour in his lungs, but that’s not going to help Steve right now.

Steve doesn’t lift his face, but Eddie doesn’t need him to. He can see enough of his face to see the tears dripping down his chin, even as Steve swipes at his face to get rid of them. The bitterness is getting harder to swallow. “Baby? Talk to me,” he pleads.

Steve mumbles, still not looking Eddie in the eye, but not folding into himself so much. It’s enough for Eddie to cup his face in his hands, rubbing at the leftover tear trails on his face. “What was that, sweetheart?” He asks.

“You need to talk to him,” he mumbles, swiping quickly at his eyes.

“What, no. We’re leaving.” There’s a lot to unpack from the last ten minutes, but if Steve is upset enough to cry, then they should go. He can deal with the rest later. At the end of the day, it’s his problem, not Steve’s burden.  “I don’t want to hear it right now. He said his piece," he insists.

“Eddie.” The tears are gone, all that’s left is that beautiful, infuriating stubbornness. The steel of his spine enough to hold you up and cut you down. There’s no getting past him when he gets like this. “You need to talk to him.” Well, that’s that then. Eddie huffs loudly, but nods.

Steve gives him a small smile, just a little turn of the lips at his dramatics even in a moment like this. “I’ll be in the car,” he says. He takes Eddie’s face in his hands and presses a kiss to the top of his head. Everything will be okay. “Take your time.” He presses one last kiss to his slightly stubbly cheek and walks out the door.

He watches him go again. For all that he wishes Steve never hurt, it’s something special to watch in real time as he wipes the last of his tears, fluffs his hair, and brings his shoulders back. Putting himself back together between Eddie’s arms and the side door.

Jeff brings him back to the present. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” he says. Fully, this time, with all the context between them. It’s what Eddie demanded, but he never thought it would be this complicated.

“Yeah, man. I know.” He does. He knows it and he sees it and he feels it, but it’s a hard pill to swallow with so much else choking him. He doesn’t forgive him, not now and maybe not ever, but he’s also tired of holding on to his fury. He wants to let it go, for Jeff, if it’s the right thing or the wrong thing he doesn’t care.

He closes the distance between them, grabbing him by the neck to bring their foreheads together hard. “I’m still fucking pissed, and it’s going to take a lot more grovelling before we’re cool again, but we’re gonna be alright.” They have more to talk about, so much more, but for now he’s happy to leave it there.

He gives Jeff a tap on the back of his head and Jeff acts like Eddie just smacked him, and it’s so normal he could cry. 

“Well, I better get in there,” he says, gesturing toward the house. The door looms larger than it ever has before. “No rest for the wicked,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Jeff.

—---

Gareth isn’t in the kitchen, or the living room, which only really leaves outside or the spare bedroom. Jeff’s family is well off enough that they help him pay for a nice place off campus. It’s always a cutthroat game of rock-paper-scissors for the right to the spare bed after a long night.

Gareth is in there, wailing away on the drum pads he put in there for when he needs to blow off steam, headphones blocking out everything but the electric thump thump thump.

He stands in the doorway, coughing loudly. Gareth looks up, clearly seeing him, but continues to play. It’s childish, but Eddie’s not going to beg for his attention. He’ll stand here all damn day until Gareth decides to grow up and talk to him. The pity, and sympathy, and love, and confusion have all worked to hide the anger, but it’s still bubbling under the surface.

Gareth plays for another minute with Eddie staring him down until he relents. He takes his time, tucking his sticks away and tucking the kit into the corner with more care than he’s ever bothered to before, leaving the headphones on the entire time. When he does pull the headphones off, it’s back to the silent game.

Fine.

“I saw Steve. I know you talked to him,” he says. Gareth scoffs, again, and rolls his eyes. 

“Oh yeah. Guys can really turn on the crocodile tears. Real keeper, Edward.” So that’s how it’s going to be. Eddie can play along, for now. That rage is still looking for an outlet, left unsatisfied. They might as well get this part out of the way now.

“Tell me about it. The hair, the eyes, the cake in the back. Not to mention, a real sweetheart. Just my type of guy. Thanks for the hook up, Gare Bear.” It’s a brutal thing to say, given what he knows, but he doesn’t care right now. “You’re right about one thing, though. Real sensitive guy, if you catch my drift.” He tilts his head and smirks, the implication of his words clear.

“Your type,” he scoffs. “The pretty boy jock with no brain coasting on daddy’s money is your type, now? You’re a fucking sellout.” He’d said almost the same thing last time, but it burns more now, knowing Steve the way he does.

“Jesus fuck, Gareth, you really want to do this? We’re not in fucking high school anymore! And you don’t even know him!” He wants to scream at him. Wants to tell him how amazing and kind and good Steve is and how lucky he is to be in his life. He would, if he thought it would get him anywhere. “I don’t have to have a fucking ‘type’ like this is some 90s opposites attract movie. He’s just a guy, and so am I, and we like each other.” It’s more like love on Eddie’s end, but it feels too soon for that, no matter how fast they’re moving.

Gareth looks like he’s gearing up for another tirade, but Eddie doesn’t let him get there. “That’s not why I’m here. I’m here so you can tell me what the hell you were thinking pulling something like that. That was mean, Gareth. Cruel. To both of us.” Steve isn’t the only one with a stubborn streak.

He watches in real time as Gareth weighs his options. Eddie is blocking the door and have six inches on him, but he seems to seriously consider making a run for it. He reaches behind him and shoves the door closed. No easy escapes, not this time. If he had a key to swallow to keep them trapped, he would.

If looks could kill, Eddie would be twelve feet under. “Fuck you, Munson,” he spits. He grumbles to himself a little more before spitting out, “Fine.”

“Great,” Eddie says, waiting. Gareth stares him down one last time, giving it one more shot. Eddie looks him straight in the eye. He should know better by now. Eddie won’t be cowed. He slumps, turning his head away to talk to the wall.

“It just was supposed to be an easy, low risk way for you to get out of your stupid five year no dating slump. After Chrissy fucked you up. After Rick and Paige.” It had been a hard time for Eddie, he could admit. Paige was his first girlfriend. They had met back in his last senior year and she was supposed to come out to the city with them. The day they were set to leave, she never showed. Eddie waited out on the porch all day and all night, learning the next day that she had skipped town in the opposite direction.

Rick had been a mistake, plain and simple. Someone to drown his heartbreak in who treated him like a plaything. He’s hounded Eddie for weeks after he’d called it quits, only backing off when Freak showed up at his front door to tell him to fuck off.

Chrissy had destroyed him. She was perfect. Sweet and bubbly and newly stepped into the alternative scene. All hot pink and studs, and Eddie had been enamored with the way she looked at him like he was good. Eddie was getting ready to ask her to move in with him when he found her making out with some blonde frat guy at a party. She hadn’t even looked sorry, just giggled sweetly and went right back to it.

No more dating, he’d decided. No one believed him, not really, but he held strong. It wasn’t worth the heartache when he was perfectly fine on his own. He’s only said yes to get Jeff and Gareth off his case and buy him a couple more years. They should have respected his wishes, but in the end, he’s glad they didn’t.

“You were supposed to hate him and come back and complain and get back on the damn horse because at least he didn’t stomp on your heart and–” He cuts himself off. Eddie’s pretty sure he knows what he was about to say, but he doesn’t push it, yet.

“You weren’t supposed to like him. He wasn’t even supposed to like you. It was supposed to be a bust both ways.” He’s fuming, frustrated that things didn’t go his way.

“Why, Gareth?” Eddie knows why, now. As much as he hates it, he can see it. He’s not asking to find out, he’s asking so Gareth has to say it.

“Fuck you, I just told you why,” he says, face flushing with his ire.

“No, you didn’t. You know you didn’t. Why?” It’s not kind, the way he asks. Him and Steve are made of the same steel. Something about the way he says it must clue him in, because his eyes go wide with abrupt and abject horror.

“Jeff told you, didn’t he?”  He knows why Eddie is asking, too.

Eddie sighs. Lets it take up a moment because nothing is ever going to be the same after this. They’ve already crossed so many lines, but this one feels like a cliff. “Yeah, he did,” he confirms.

“This is bull shit, fuck you. Trying to get me to say it when you already fucking know.” Gareth paces, looking for an outlet for his anger, turning around to smack a random tchotchke off the bedside table. Any other time, Eddie would be up and moving, too. Raging and biting back at Garteth for turning this back on him, but he can see the tears behind the screaming.

Eddie has only seen Gareth cry once, when Eddie woke up in the hospital all those years ago. He’s been mad then, too, tearing into him for his idiocy. Scared shitless.

“Gareth, Gareth, come on man, stop.” Eddie grabs him by the shoulders, ducking down to try and catch his eye. It’s so jarring to see him like this. “I’m sorry,” he says. It’s enough to shock the other man out of his tears, finally meeting his eye.

“What?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, Gareth,” he says again. Solem. “Not about Steve, or not noticing how you felt because how the fuck was I supposed to know?” The frustration isn’t gone, but it ebbs and flows out of him.

“Or for not feeling the same way.” It needs to be said. He thinks Gareth probably already knew, but there shouldn’t be any ambiguity around this. Gareth slams his eyes shut, trying to curl into himself, and despite everything about the situation, Eddie wishes he could fix it for him. Wishes he could take away the feeling he knows so well. “I’m just sorry it turned out like this,” he settles on.

“I don’t love you like that. I don’t, and I don’t think I ever will.” It’s cruel, Eddie can feel it, but there’s no other way for him to say it. “You’ve always been like a brother to me, and I know that’s not what you want to hear, but you’ve always been one of the most important people in my life,” he says. Gareth starts to sob, tucking his head into his own shoulder.

Eddie wishes that he could turn back the clock. That he could go back and see the signs for what they were and let Gareth down early, when they were still kids. Before Steve, before Chrissy, or Rick, or Paige.

But, they’re not kids anymore, and no matter the feelings behind it, he can’t let this go.

“But you can’t do shit like that, and I don’t want to see you around for a while. Maybe not ever.” It feels like swallowing glass, especially with the way Gareth looks at him, like he just broke his heart. He probably did.

“Come on, Eddie. I get it, it was fucked up. I can apologize to Steve. You don’t gotta do that,” he pleads, wiping tears and snot into his sleeve.

“Do you?” Eddie can’t help but ask. He thinks of Steve’s face through the phone screen that day. The things he’d told him about his own failed relationships. The way he’d tried to hide from him today. “Do you really know how fucked up that was? Because it doesn’t seem like you do. Steve is a fucking person, and you made him feel like something was wrong with him. Humiliated him, probably more than once, if his tears earlier are anything to go on,” he fumes.

Gareth may be willing to apologize now that Eddie is willing to cut him out, but he certainly doesn’t seem sorry. Not for the things that matter. Not to the extent that he should be. He at least looks contrite, which means maybe there’s hope for him yet, but it’s not Eddie’s job to fix him.

“Eddie–,” he tries to argue.

“I’m going to head out. I hope you figure your shit out, man.” He thinks he’s going to throw up. He’s never had to cut out a friend before. He has one more thing to say before he goes. He closes the space between them, putting his left hand on his right shoulder, nearly cheek to cheek. “And if you try and talk to Steve again without me there, it’s done. Forever. Don’t bother hoping I call. Got it?” Gareth tenses under his hand. Good.

“Got it,” he says. He gets a sick thrill at the defeat in his voice.

He gives him a firm pat and steps back. He takes a moment just to look at him. He really has grown since they were kids, but it’s not enough yet. It’s strange to know that this could be the last time they talk. He hopes it isn’t, but only time will tell.

“Goodbye, Gareth,” he says, and turns toward the door.

He’s got one foot out when a voice calls him back. “Hey, Eddie?” He asks.

“Yeah?” Eddie responds, turning halfway back to look over his shoulder.

“I love you,” Gareth says. He’s not saying it for a response. He’s saying it because it might be his only chance.

Eddie smiles, and walks out the door.

—---

Eddie says a quick goodbye to Jeff, giving him the bare bones of what happened. As much as he’s still not happy, he’s glad Jeff will be here to look after Gareth. He tells him they’ll talk more later and makes a quick exit.

Steve is in the passenger seat. The window is rolled down and his eyes are closed, enjoying the breeze. The sun is going down, painting him in golds and oranges. He’s so beautiful.

Eddie slips into the driver's side, careful not to jostle Steve too much. He watches as Steve collects himself from his doze, blinking sleepy eyes at Eddie and smiling lazily. Eddie feels like he’s taken his first full breath since they got in the car to come here.

“Everything ok?” he asks.

Eddie takes one more look at his boyfriend in the low light before putting the key in the ignition, bringing the engine to life.

“Yeah, I think it is,” he says, pulling away from the curb.

------

Just one more chapter to go, folks! We'll take a nice little look into the future for our boys.

Tag List

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[scarletyeager]

And again my favorite guys

[scarletyeager]

statement of timothy stoker, regarding his own death.

[scarletyeager]

Steddie but they actually don't fall in love after the upside down and everything, they aren't even friends, everything returns to being kinda the same. They don't really talk.

BUT THEN,

Two or so years after everything happened, they're both still sticking around town. Eddie still plays with his band but he's a mechanic at his Uncles shop; Steve is still dealing with the damn kids, even though their almost adults, as disgusting as that is, he's working at family video with Robin still.

Eddie, just finished a show at the hideout, and goes to the bar for a drink before he's gonna head out with his band, and probably, honestly get baked. That's where he sees Steve Harrington, a flush across his cheeks, a drink in his hand, as he drunkenly hums along to a song quietly playing on the radio at the bar.

Eddie hadn't ever, one, actually seen Steve drunk, and two, heard this song before. It sounded... Like the kind of thing Eddie hated, but he couldn't help the sudden chuckle that bubbled out of him at the sight.

"I wanna d-dance with somebody-" Steve would hiccup, a dopey grin on his face. The drunk then noticed Eddie staring at him, and tilted his head like a confused dog. "Munson? Ah, damn, hey there." Eddie wasn't sure if he made up the way Steve's eyes darted down him, but it made him feel hot. "Hey..." Eddie trailed off, a smirk quirking at his mouth, "You feeling alright there, Harrington?" He'd question, noting the drunken sway, the flush across his cheek, and the less than ideal babbling.

"I'm... wonderful, at the moment, though I think Robin might've abandoned me for a pretty lady a while ago? I'm not too sure! And I found a new favorite song." Steve would rant enthusiastically. Who knew he was such a... Chipper drunk. Eddie would scoff slightly, "Oh, well that's just peachy." He glanced at the bartender, then suddenly decided he... Didn't want a drink.

"Do you have a way home?" Eddie found himself asking, strangely worried about him. Maybe it was his dopey smile, or the way his hair was slightly tousled, or the sweet ramblings, but Eddie felt a tug in his gut he couldn't ignore. "U-Uhuh! My car's out front-" "You're not driving." Eddie cut him off, shaking head. Steve paused, surprised by the interruption, and then pouted. "Aw, what? I can drive! I'm a g-great driver!" As adorable as that was, with his little hiccups, Eddie wouldn't be agreeing.

"I bet you are, but y'know, maybe I just want to spend some time with you, out of the goodness of my heart?" Eddie suggested, wondering if Steve was tipsy enough to fall for that. By the way he smiled, he absolutely was. "Oh? Aw, really? That's- Good! Okay." He agreed so quickly it kind of hurt Eddie's heart, a bit.

After the fifteen minute struggle of fishing Steve's keys out of his pocket, explaining to the band what he was doing, and dragging Steve to his passenger seat. Eddie sighed, and sat in the front seat, starting up the car, and began to Harringtons house. He remembered where it was, he'd sold a few kids weed at his old parties. He managed to sneak in a few times.

Steve was... Staring at the ceiling of the car, thinking of whatever pretty boys do when they're drunk off their ass. "I wanna dance..." He'd mumble, "With somebody!" He'd declare, and Eddie just had to fight to keep from laughing. "With... You. You seem good." Steve's head lulled to the side, looking at Eddie with dilated pupils that made his jeans feel tight. "Is that right?" Eddie teased, cocking a brow but keeping his eyes on the road out of fear of what would happen if he looked directly into those doe eyes.

"Yes! It is! You're being nice to me, you gotta love me a little, right? Just a smidge?" Steve would hiccup after asking, his head jolting, a strand of that sickeningly perfect hair falling in his face. Eddie let out a nervous chuckle, man this guy must've had a horrible day to drink this much. "You're... Different, when you're drunk." Eddie would admit, turning into the Harrington's driveway. "Your hair looks like a dirty mop." Steve would snort, a lax grin on his face. Eddie sighed, undoing his seatbelt. "Thank you."

After what felt like an eternity of struggle, he got Steve up to his room and got him to drink at least a little water, so, success. Steve had finally collapsed on his bed, but he was still staring at Eddie. "You're gonna leave now aren't you?" He mumbled, turning onto his side to stare at Eddie, who stood by his door. "They always leave, the pretty ones." Eddie felt a small tug of sadness, but he also knew this wasn't the right way to go about things.

"When you're sober, we can definitely plan this another time, Harrington." Eddie took out a crumpled receipt from his pocket, and took a pen off of Steve's nightstand, and scribbled something down on it. He walked over to Steve and put it in his hand, gently. "Just rest now, okay? Don't die." Eddie would joke lightly, stepping back.

As he closed the door, he was there for just long enough to hear the tired drunk mumble, "Call me Steve..." Eddie felt a strange flutter in his chest. The same one he'd felt a few years ago in that boat when Steve ripped his shirt off and dived in the lake. Definitely not related.

Steve was very confused and concerned when he woke up the next morning, tucked into bed, with a receipt that said:

"Dance with me another time. Eddie Munson." With a number attached.