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shares-a-vest · 2 years ago

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@steddiemas Day 13: Snow Day (Winter Wednesday)

wc: 2.4k | Rated: T for flirtatious banter and a post-spicy-times premise | cw: A very brief (and mild) exchange alluding to Period-Typical Homophobia Tags: Stuck in Snow, Car Breakdown, Post-Coital, Getting Interrupted, Multiple/Switching POVs, Established Relationships

This is equal parts Steddie and Clarkson, so I'm tagging Queen of the Clarkson hive, @unclewaynemunson. Also thanks to @rocknrollsalad for not only indulging my Clarkson thoughts and cheerleading me on, but for also providing me with some Scott Clarke crumbs in the form of the Stranger Things comics.

Steve awakens to cold silence with a hand in his hair, fingers gently curling and relaxing in tandem with the steady breathing of the person beneath him.

Eddie. It’s Eddie. And it’s also Eddie’s winter coat, a kaki parka whose slippery material threatens to fall to the car floor as soon as he shifts a little.

He grimaces, aware now of the jeans pulled down to his mid-thigh that would expose his bare ass if it weren’t for the coat protecting his modesty. He is without a shirt too and quickly becomes aware of a tacky coldness sticking between him and his partner. Steve startles and props himself up on his elbow.

He grimaces because he is sticky. He feels sticky.

“Eds,” he mumbles, voice feeling �� and sounding – like gravel.

He smacks his dry lips and gulps as he attempts to sit up in the cramped darkness of the backseat of his car.

“Mrmphf,” Eddie hums between another low snore, the hand occupied in Steve’s mussed hair now falling to his partner’s bare chest.

“Eddie, we fell asleep,” he continues, rubbing his eyes enough that he can make out the time on his watch.

He feels his eyes bulge out of their sockets.

“We’ve been out here for hours!”

“So?” Eddie stirs, argumentative despite still being half asleep.

Steve hikes up his pants and bites back a shudder (and a chilly shiver). That tackiness is a problem for Future Safe-At-Home Steve, he thinks as he searches for his shirt.

He’d tossed it off (hours ago, it seems), back when Eddie had pulled him into the back cab as music blared from the radio – a stupid alt station that falls in and out of frequency that Eddie insists is worth listening to. Then he remembers, Eddie situated him in his lap, as they tend to do when they make out in his car.

But the making out didn’t stop there and instead continued with Eddie unzipping his jeans, eagerly pushing them down and –

Well, his next thoughts explain his nakedness, his tackiness and the fact that they’d passed out moments after Dio had stopped screech-singing about…

Steve looks at the dashboard, practically diving into the driver’s seat to check the ignition. Eddie yelps behind him and Steve feels a rush of air that makes him think Eddie probably attempted – and failed – to kick at him.

“You almost kicked me in the balls!” Eddie hisses.

“And I’m freezing my balls off!” he shoots over his shoulder.

Eddie gasps at the thought and Steve can’t help but laugh for the split second it takes him to adjust into the driver’s seat properly and look at the Beemer’s ignition, right where his keys are dangling away.

Oh no.

“Eddie, we left the radio on!” he shrieks, his voice reverberating off the windows and creating a ringing in his ears.

“So?” Eddie says again, sounding like a goddamn parrot as makes a mountain of noise, palming around for some clothes.

“So!” Steve mocks back at his boyfriend, scrubbing his hand over the nearest window.

It’s snowing outside now, so much so that all he can see is white fog. He cranes his neck to get a look at the tires but soon gives up and instead settles for pinching his nose. He breathes in and out for a few moments, preparing himself for the inevitable disappointment of not starting the car.

And yeah, it does not work.

Eddie jumps into the front seat, jostling the whole front cab as he wrestles on his boots, distracted enough to not mention the barking yelp Steve gives.

“You fell asleep,” Eddie quips, shucking on his black crumpled long-sleeved shirt and coming back up with a wicked grin, “I rocked your world, baby, so you need your beauty sleep after that. Naturally, I followed suit because you’re just so warm and cosy and hairy.”

Steve turns to find Eddie making grabby hands at his still bare – and cold – chest. He half-heartedly slaps his hand away, earning a pout.

He’ll tease Eddie about the phrase, ‘Rock your world’ later.

“Maybe we can walk back to Johnny’s Gas Station?” he wonders aloud, the suggestion eliciting a groan of protest.

Wayne bolts upright at the sound of the ringing phone and, before he knows it, Scott is grumbling away next to him.

“You just elbowed me in the stomach!” he complains but all Wayne can focus on is the phone.

He jumps to action and glances at his alarm clock radio. It reads 3:46 am.

The cold air of the trailer hits his legs and he looks down to find himself in merely his boxers. He looks at Scott, who is now upright and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Their blanket falls away and Scott shivers from the exposure.

They make eye contact and his partner blushes, sending a flurry of their calm and quiet evening at home into Wayne’s tired noggin.

Eating dinner, watching TV all cuddled up impossibly close on the couch and then –

Ring… Ring…

Wayne shakes his head and heads for the kitchen. Clothes (and those other recollections) can wait.

“Wayne Munson,” he answers, voice gruff to an almost comical level he’s sure Eddie would make a quip about.

“Hey, Uncle,” Eddie sighs on the other end, greeting him in the typical fashion he does when he has done something wrong.

“Are you safe?” he asks instantly, turning to find Scott dressed in a blue flannel set of pyjamas and holding the pair of sweatpants he had long discarded on the bedroom floor.

“Could you come get us?” Eddie asks.

His heart skips a beat. He looks at Scott, who mirrors his panic.

“ – My car!” Steve’s panicked voice cuts in, sounding close enough to the phone, the kid must be listening in.

Scott steps forward to hand over the sweats.

“Jeans,” Wayne mouths back.

In a flash, Scott has turned on his sock-covered heels and doubles back, grabbing his beige parka from the coat rack on his way.

“Huh?” Eddie grunts. There’s some incoherent bickering before the boy sighs, “And we need a tow… Steve’s car battery croaked it.”

Wayne sucks in a breath of relief but also bites his tongue and readjusts his grip on the phone.

“It was your fault!”

“No, it wasn’t, Stevie.”

Wayne rolls his eyes at the mischievous lilt in his nephew’s voice on that last one and moves to look out the kitchen window, only to be met with snowy darkness. He’s pretty sure he can tow Steve’s BMW in this weather. There’s no way he’d leave such an expensive car outside, nor would the boy let him.

“Alright,” he says, voice clipped, “Tell me where you boys are at.”

Whatever happened, Eddie and Steve are in for a lecture…

All Eddie can see when Wayne pulls over to the small clearing-come-makeout spot are trapper hats, his uncle’s scowl and Scott Clarke’s snow goggles. He groans and throws his head back, jostling his and Steve’s conjoined form.

“Eddie,” Steve warns, “I gotta unzip us.”

Eddie grumbles and drops his arms so his boyfriend can reach behind him and unzip the giant winter coat he had managed to coax himself into as well. He thinks they haven’t even been back at the car for all of five minutes but, as always, Wayne has come to his rescue quicker than he said he’d be.

But, as he watches his uncle open his car door and round to the back truck bed, Eddie can spot Wayne’s bristling shoulders a mile off – old Army jacket and snowy weather, or not.

He grits his chattering teeth as best he can, standing still with his hands in his pockets as Steve abandons him to give an endless torrent of apologies and offer his assistance.

“Eddie,” Scott nods.

Eddie rolls his eyes. Maybe he should chance it with his uncle, his inevitable grumpiness and Steve. Scott is all winter woollies and moustache as he removes a red tartan trapper hat, one that matches Wayne’s and is likely the one he used to give Eddie himself back before the old man ever owned anything kid-sized.

Scott offers the hat but Eddie shakes his head and gives a gloved, two-finger salute.

“Scotty,” he mumbles as politely as possible before catching Wayne’s eye.

“We’ll talk about this,” Wayne begins, waving the eyelet end of his tow rope (even with Steve close on his heel), “Later.”

Eddie looks at his partner and finds Steve nervously running a hand through his hair.

The pair turn in unison, Wayne pointing and offering instructions that Steve promptly follows and they once again leave Eddie standing with Scott, who rocks on his heels and very obviously ogles his uncle's ‘handiwork’.

He shudders and takes a step forward to block Scott’s adoration from his line of sight. But the man soon follows and Eddie huffs out a laboured breath, readying himself for an overly cheery chat.

How his uncle started dating a Chatty Cathy, he’ll never know.

“We were asleep, anyway,” Scott offers.

Eddie feels a blush creep up his neck to his snow-bitten cheeks, recalling how he and Steve had been peacefully sleeping away in the Beemer before this whole (admittedly embarrassing) situation started…

Or more, a situation they found themselves in the middle of.

They watch in silence as Wayne and Steve work in perfect sync, shovelling away the snow built up around the car’s tires, before attaching the hook, placing the Beemer into neutral and firing up the truck.

“I could have helped, you know,” Scott offers, still looking out the window, finally deciding to break the silence that has befallen the car.

Well, a silence that exists besides Steve Harrington’s snoring in the back seat, which started up a mere few minutes from the clearing the boys were stuck at on the outskirts of McMillan’s farm.

He glances at Wayne in an attempt to gauge just how gruff he is.

What type of gruff it is, too.

Wayne sighs and readjusts his hands on the steering wheel.

“Could have driven too,” he can’t help but add.

“No bother,” Wayne says before shooting a look in his rearview mirror.

“Might surprise you, but I was as silly and eager as they are too, once upon a time,” he chuckles, “I’m sure you were too.”

Wayne only grumbles.

Maybe that wasn’t the best point to make right now.

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks – even though he’s sleepy, he knows Wayne prefers to get straight to the point.

He reaches over the middle console to take the hand Wayne is now resting on his thigh. It probably isn’t the safest move considering the weather but, with Steve’s car in literal tow, they are moving at a snail’s pace.

“I worry about them,” Wayne replies, squeezing his hand, “Goin’ out and...” he trails off before changing the subject (so, if Scott knows his partner, he should consider it dropped, for now), “Besides, they interrupted our night.”

Scott smiles to himself as he continues to look out the window, watching a snow-drenched Hawkins pass them by.

He stays like that until they arrive back at the Munson’s. They stir the boys and reassure Steve that as soon as the weather passes, his car will be worked on. In the meantime, Wayne secures a tarp over the maroon Beemer and rouses the boys inside with zero promises of his famous hot cocoa.

And, just like that, Scott finds himself in bed with Wayne Munson once again, cuddling up to spoon his partner and hoping he won’t get an elbow to the ribs this time.

“No funny business,” Wayne whispers over his shoulder and Scott catches a flash of a smile.

“Not even a little more hanky-panky,” he teases, squeezing his middle.

He presses a kiss to Wayne’s pyjama-clad shoulder (a flannel set he’d gifted him at the beginning of winter).

“And you call me a dirty old man,” Wayne quips before sighing, “Don’t think we’ll get too much’a that now that the boys don’t have a car between ‘em.”

He shifts on the spot and readjusts his arm under his pillow.

“Is that what’s got you all grouchy?”

“We’ve only got so much time over the holidays, is all,” Wayne says with a hint of sadness that sounds more like he has to admit to being disappointed.

“What about you get the boys to work on the car together,” he smiles into his shoulder, “That’ll get them out of the house.”

Steve all but runs into Eddie as he exits the bathroom, finally warmed up and wearing his old Hawkins High sweater.

At least he intends to stay warm, an idea that begins to quickly fade considering Eddie won’t budge an inch as he munches from a bowl of Honeycombs – his go-to emergency snack in lieu of hot cocoa.

Eddie points his spoon in the direction of Wayne’s bedroom and glares as milk drips from the end of his utensil.

“You hear that?” he bites conspiratorially.

“What?” Steve asks, lightly pushing past his boyfriend to dump his towel and soiled clothes in the hallway hamper.

“They’re giggling,” Eddie recoils.

“They’re cute,” he chuckles, “Anyway, shove off! I’m gonna start freezing my balls off again.”

Eddie darts out of the way, his disgruntled frown turning serious.

“Yes, shoo!” he hisses, “Go get all toasty. I’m very concerned about what your balls have endured this cold dark winter night, Big Boy.”

He taps at his shoulder with the commanding spoon before jabbing him with it.

“You think Wayne’s really mad?” Steve can’t help but ask as he throws back the bed covers in Eddie’s room.

“Nah,” Eddie drawls, abandoning his bowl on the nightstand, “You’da seen that vein on the side of his head explode.”

He all but cackles at his joke and beats Steve to get under the covers first, twisting them all about as he flops down.

“And you think he’ll get me a good deal on the car?” Steve wonders, adjusting the covers as he slips under them too, “It’s more than just a cooked battery, it turns out.”

“Hell, he’ll probably get us to work on it,” Eddie gripes as the two of them snuggle in, limbs intertwining on instinct, “I’m sure there’s some lame lesson we are supposed to learn from tonight.”

“And what would that be?” he teases.

“Don’t make me say that screwing each other’s brains out in the back of your car is something we shouldn’t be doing,” Eddie whines.

“You mean, ‘rocking my world’,” he giggles into his boyfriend’s not-borrowed yellow sweater.

#i'll cross-post to ao3 when i finally think of a title 😅#i miiight write a sequel to this that's the next morning #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #scott clarke #clarkson #have to incorporate them this month!#steddie fic #lily writes a fic #steve x eddie #steddiemas #clarkson ☕

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