pankaa3226

[pankaa3226]

A Meeting of Two Kings

Prompt: Lake, Bike | Rating: G | Wordcount: 3,731 | AO3 | @steddiebingo

Eddie was supposed to be in school. He knew that, the teachers knew that, the principal knew that, hell the fucking superintendent knew that. But he knew he still had some absences to spare, okay? He checked this time. He was actively taking charge of his destiny — or whatever the fucking counselor kept going on about — but when Jason Fucking Carver was on his prom king bullshit, Eddie had to take a break.

And steal Rick’s boat. Perks of house sitting included boat privileges, right? The dude was in jail, it wasn’t like he was using the thing.

Besides, lover’s lake was small — only the occasional fishing boat drifting by with one or two old men aboard — and Eddie needed some quiet time. People would always assume that he liked the noise, he thrived in chaos, and while that might be true of himself, that didn’t mean he needed to endure the high school hierarchy bullshit, male posturing, fight-prone jocks spewing slurs every chance they got. Being loud to drown out the noise was different than sitting there while others were loud around him, and being loud was exhausting sometimes.

He was good at it, sure, but he couldn’t be on all the time.

So he stole the boat, and laid on the floor of it as he drifted around the lake, legs propped up on one of the wooden benches. He just wanted to hear the wind in the trees and feel the drifting waves rock the wood under his back like a lullaby. It was nice, the weather finally looking up after a miserable winter, and it was almost warm enough to swim. Almost. It was certainly warm enough to feel the sun seeping into his cotton shirt, the black soaking it up and heating him through like a rotisserie.

That was until he heard a crash just on the edge of the shore, some loud cacophony of crunching leaves and rattling wheels. He sprang up from where he was laying, whipping his head around to check the lakeshore for whatever had made the noise. Just a few feet from the rocks, a bike had nearly wrapped itself around a tree, laying in a sad battered lump.

Eddie couldn’t see any sign of its rider. Whoever it was, was laying on the ground out of sight — out cold, as far as he could tell — until a foot straightened out and kicked the mangled bike. 

“Dude, are you alright?” he shouted, trying to see if the body moved again. He heard a muffled groan and the foot kicked out a second time, rustling the bushes.

Eddie frantically tried to find the oar. The oar that was laying right next to him. He fumbled it up into his hands, fighting the water like he could slap it into submission. He barely moved.

“Fuck!” he shouted, trying even harder to part the seas through sheer force alone. At least the guy on the ground seemed to be moving more — bushes and brush rustling with every movement. Eddie still couldn’t make out who it was, but he did manage to remember the fucking boat had a motor. He nearly tripped over the bench trying to throw himself toward the propeller, yanking the string several times until it mercifully took pity on him and started — lurching him forward toward shore.

The ‘thunk’ the boat made against solid ground was probably going to cost him, but he didn’t think about that as he threw himself out of the boat and toward the still-prone figure covered in leaves and grass.

The closer he got, the more he recognized the brunette locks that had consumed a ridiculously large part of Hawkins High’s rumor mill. The pretty face scrunched up in pain sent a pang through his chest — though whether that was concern or vindication could be up for interpretation. Even crumpled against the ground, the sun caught his hair and Eddie could practically see the golden shine of a crown perched rightly on his head.

“Hey,” he called out, Steve’s face scrunching up again in response. “Hey, Harrington, you alright?”

He crouched down next to him, close enough to touch but not really sure if he should. This was the former king after all, and Eddie wasn’t in the mood to be persecuted without due process for touching royalty — even if he was king of the freaks himself. A clash of two kingdoms was bound to cause an uprising, no matter the intentions behind the act.

The man groaned, sliding his hand up to his head and rubbing his eyes. “How long was I out?” he grumbled, sitting up slowly like he was scared the world would suddenly slip from underneath him if he went too fast.

“I don’t know, like a few seconds?”

As far as Eddie could tell, he didn’t seem to be severely injured. He should definitely be embarrassed though, who the fuck rode a bike in the middle of the woods?

“Oh, good,” he sighed, dropping his hand and gathering himself onto his feet. Eddie scrambled to follow.

“Whoa, whoa, good? Harrington, are you alright in the head?”

“Well if it was a few minutes, I’d have to go to the hospital.” He started picking up his bike — like that was that, like he was fine.

“Kind of think you should do that anyway, dude.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he shook his head, stumbling as he reached for the bike. Eddie darted out to catch his arm, persecution be damned, and tried to get him on steady ground again. Steve blinked a few times, letting Eddie sit him back down on the ground. The bike could wait, Eddie was pretty sure he could see blood in Steve’s hair, ruby twinkle tainting any cushion a proper crown should sit on.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, pulling out his hanky and holding it to the source. Steve hissed in response, moving to flick away Eddie’s help.

“It’s not a big deal, head wounds bleed a lot but I think I just landed on a stick.”

“Think you landed on many sticks, actually.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He rolled his eyes, and Eddie kind of wanted to shake him if he weren’t so concerned about a concussion. Harrington didn’t exactly seem like a purveyor of self preservation — and that was coming from Eddie. If anyone knew a thing or two about ignoring safety concerns, it was him.

“Think you hit anything else on your way down?” Eddie kept pressing the hanky against his head, despite Steve’s protests. He was tempted to fuck with him out of spite; tell him a spider had decided to call his head home, or that he’d torn out a chunk of his precious hair and he was partially bald — that if he got an earring he could play Mr. Clean. 

Just… something.

“Just my dignity,” Steve mumbled, giving up on his attempts to swat Eddie’s help away.

He snorted, glancing down at the man but Steve didn’t look embarrassed — just put out, like injuries were an inconvenience and not a detriment to his health.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Steve asked after a pause.

“Huh?”

“You’re a senior, right? It’s Tuesday.”

“Oh?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. The hanky had stopped whatever bleeding he could see. It looked like Steve was right, and he’d only received a small cut for his biking troubles. He probably didn’t need Eddie to stay — could probably stand on his own now without toppling over — but for some reason he felt compelled to keep talking. Instead of fucking off back to the boat, he sat down. The day was already hijacked, what were a few more seconds in the Twilight Zone, where Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson talked?

“Doth mine ears deceive me, or does Steve Harrington know of little ol’ me?” He batted his eyelashes at the man, flicking the black hanky like he was fanning himself — a pure maiden in the presence of a suitor.

“You’re a two time super senior, everyone at Hawkins High knows you.” His tone was flat, just a statement of fact, but Steve winced the second it was out of his mouth.

“Ouch—”

“No, sorry, sorry, I’m trying to be better, I swear!” He dragged a hand down his face, “Dustin would kill me if he heard that.”

“Dustin? Henderson? Little Dusty Henderson?”

“Are you allowed to say that?”

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head with conviction. If Dustin heard him say that, he’d never hear the end of it. The kid wasn’t intimidating, but he was insufferable when he wanted to be, and Eddie wasn’t keen on listening to the boy complain for weeks until he got bored.

“You should try Dusty Buns next time, he hates that one,” Steve snorted. He patted down his hair, poking around for the cut until he winced. Eddie kind of wanted to bat his hand away like a cat, to hiss and scold to keep Steve from making it worse, but he didn’t. He was still tempted to say the bald thing, though. If anyone ever claimed Eddie Munson wasn’t petty, they’d be lying. Also, self preservation wasn’t Eddie’s strong suit either.

“So how do you know Dustin?” he asked, plopping down on the ground right next to Steve. The boy had moved on from trying to get up, to accepting his fate and tearing out grass from the ground instead. He threw a few broken strands as he sighed, watching them float serenely back to the ground.

“Used to babysit him and his friends when they were in middle school.”

“You mean last year?” Eddie scoffed. Freshmen always acted like grown ups, as if they weren’t a few months out from 8th grade. His scoff turned slightly bitter at the edges when he realized he was twenty and still fucking around in the same school as literal children. Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have been skipping this close to graduation. He knew he was army crawling through a bunch of Cs, but he was doing way better than any of his previous years. He was going to graduate this year if he died trying. This was his year.

His comment made Steve laugh though, and Eddie thought that was a win. Maybe he could turn in his own crown and become King Steve’s jester. That was a thought. Maybe an interesting campaign idea, even — one kingdom’s ruler trading in his crown for a jingling headdress in a neighboring kingdom, just for the chance to see its king smile, and the consequences of those actions.

“Do you do that a lot?” Steve asked, breaking Eddie out of his fantasy spiral.

“Do what?”

Steve pointed to his head, twirling his finger around as he gestured to it. “You disappear into your head a lot,” he said, eyes analysing Eddie like they had any right to puzzle him out, like Eddie was a math problem he was trying to solve.

“Just got a lot of things running up there,” he shook it off, opening his mouth to start improvising and distract from Steve’s knowing eyes.

“Not that I would know, right?” the man said before Eddie could even come up with anything. He scrunched his eyebrows together, not really sure what Steve meant.

“Huh?” he honked out eloquently, his impeccable grasp of the English language on display for the king to see and judge.

“That’s what people usually say next. ‘ Thinking a lot, not that you could relate’, you know?”

Eddie shook his head, “Dude, you said it yourself, I’m a three-time high school senior, if anyone’s the idiot around here, it’s me.”

“Well according to Dustin, you’re a genius. And apparently Einstein didn’t speak until he was four, so like… you know,” he waved his hand around, tossing more shredded blades of grass, “You’re just smart at your own pace, or whatever.”

“Are you comparing me to Einstein as a toddler?”

“Four year olds aren’t toddlers.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, pulling up a handful of grass and throwing it at Steve. “You’re really good at picking out the things that aren’t important, you know that?”

“What can I say,” Steve smirks, leaning back on his elbows, “I’m just an airhead.”

He shook his head, copying Steve’s relaxed stance. “Nah, I think you’re doing it on purpose.” It was Eddie’s turn to analyse Steve. He flicked his eyes away as Eddie looked, like he’d hit the nail on the head. 

Steve was doing it on purpose. Whether to distract him or make him comfortable or to take his mind off the bump on Steve’s head that he should still probably get checked out by a professional; he was splitting Eddie in multiple directions so he couldn’t think much past their current conversation. It was calculated, it was smart, and maybe neither of them were good at following a curriculum, but they were certainly both good at studying people.

“You’re doing it again,” Steve mumbled as he tossed another handful of grass.

“This time I haven’t disappeared.”

He watched as a blush traveled up from the collar of Steve’s shirt, all the way up into his cheeks. Briefly, deliriously, he wondered how low the blush started — if it began at his sternum and bloomed right from his chest, or if it started lower. That was a dangerous game his mind was playing.

“Anyway,” Steve coughed, “What are you doing out here?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? What’s with the bike?”

Steve cursed and shot up, wobbling on his feet as the blood rushed to his head. Eddie stood at a slower pace, watching as Steve untangled the bike from the loose brush on the ground.

“Shit, I forgot about the fucking cat, fuck,” he mumbled.

Eddie reached out and grabbed the man’s arm before he did something stupid like get back on the bike and crash again.

“What cat?”

“Dustin’s cat.”

“What about Dustin’s cat?”

Steve rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath like Eddie’s questions were irritating and unnecessary and not very important to determine if The King had brain damage or something.

“Dustin’s cat’s been missing for a couple days, and I don’t have work today so I figured I could go out and look for it while Dustin’s at school, you know? If I can find the cat and bring him home, then Dustin won’t have to worry about it anymore. Plus, his mom looked so sad this morning when I picked him up, dude, I swear it was torture.”

“And what’s the bike gotta do with that?”

Steve rolled his eyes again. Jesus Christ, was he doing that on purpose? Or did the bitch come out every time he was vaguely irritated?

“I can’t exactly drive into the woods, can I?” he asked, arms crossed like Eddie had just asked the dumbest question and the answer was obvious. He could picture him on a throne, head held high and crown sparkling as he looked down his nose at Eddie. He shook the thought away until he was back in the woods, crossing his own arms as they stood — two disgraced kings on equal footing.

“So you decided crashing into the woods was more productive?” he snarked back.

“I didn’t crash on purpose!”

“And what if the cat hears you snapping over all the twigs and leaves, and it’s running away before you even see it?”

Steve’s bitchy smug face froze like Eddie had hit the pause button, and then collapsed while the words registered in his head. He groaned, neck going slack as it rolled around his shoulders, like an eyeroll just wasn’t enough to express his full frustrations. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and Eddie waited it out while Steve went through the five stages of grief in front of him.

“I’m an idiot—”

“No, it’s totally not that bad—”

“I’m an idiot—”

“Really, I think anyone could have made the same mistake—”

“I’m so stupid—”

“Hey, now, take a breath and just—”

“God, and I crashed and everything. Oh, this is so rich. I’m never gonna live this down, Dustin’s gonna laugh for days—”

“Harrington, I swear to god I won’t tell a soul,” he tried to shout over Steve’s spiral. The other man paused and flicked his eyes over to Eddie. The king clearly didn’t believe him, and stood for a moment just to take Eddie in. He squinted his eyes, parsing through whether Eddie was telling the truth or not.

“Why wouldn’t you?” The words were slow, calculated, like Eddie was lying, like there’d be no reason in the world that he wouldn’t use this against Steve the first chance he got. Not that it was that important, really. It was dumb, sure, but it wasn’t life altering or something that would ruin Steve’s reputation (or whatever was left of it.)

“Why would I?” he asked carefully.

Steve scoffed, rolling his whole head again instead of just his eyes. He moved his hands to his hips, and Eddie couldn’t help but picture Steve surrounded by a gaggle of children, in light wash jeans and white Nike’s like some kind of suburban dad at a cookout, or ready to mow the lawn. He could picture a white picket fence and maybe a dog, PTA flyers sticking out of the freshly painted mailbox. From a king, to a dad, to a king again, Steve looked back down at him with a raised eyebrow. Eddie was getting whiplash in his own mind from all the characters he kept placing on Steve’s shoulders.

“Well according to the rest of Hawkins, any bit of info about the failed king is valuable.”

Eddie rolled his eyes right back, “Since when have I ever been, one: invested in the private lives of Hawkins elite,” he held up one finger, and then a second, “and two: concerned about the arbitrary value of a little anecdote about the fallen king being a literal falling hazard.”

He watched as Steve processed his words, running them around through his head before shaking it (dare Eddie say) a bit fondly.

“You talk weird.”

“Yeah, well, I am weird, get over it.”

The king shook his head again, and this time there was no mistaking the fond quirk of his lips as he looked directly into Eddie’s eyes and nearly made the earth itself drop from under their feet. Eddie could wax poetic for days about the soft spark in Steve’s eye like a warm campfire on a cool summer night, or the taste of a hot cookie fresh out of the oven, or maybe the prickle of sunlight on bare skin just before it burns you. He couldn’t help it. He was, after all, just a dumb boy in the presence of a high school crush.

“Eh, I like weird.”

The longer he stared, the harder it was for Eddie to keep a smile off his face. Steve just seemed to have that effect, the charming bastard, and it wasn’t hard to see why he’d been on the top of the food chain for so long. Let it be known that Eddie Munson was not immune to the charm and wiles of a fit young man. Even one who had quite literally crashed into the conversation. But before Eddie could open his mouth to say anything more, Steve leaned down to pick up the bike like he was making a break for it.

“Wait, uh—” Eddie cut through the suddenly awkward silence, though it was probably only awkward on his part. Steve seemed confused as he turned to face him again, a question in his eyes that he didn’t have to voice. “You know, Mrs. Wilson around the corner from here usually feeds the strays in the afternoon. You could check there, see if Mews is uh,” don’t say having a pussy party, don’t say it, do not, “hanging out with other cat friends.”

The responding smile on Steve’s face was nearly blinding, taking Eddie out like a sword straight to the heart. He contemplated grasping his chest dramatically and dropping to the floor just to see the smile widen, to know it was he who caused it and to keep it plastered on that beautiful face for as long as possible.

“Thanks, man,” he clapped Eddie’s shoulder, “Do you have a lot to get back to?” his eyes darted over to the boat still awkwardly shoved half-on-half-off the bank where he’d left it in his panic to check on the unconscious pedestrian.

“Nope, nuh-uh, nothing here, just your typical delinquent activities like… floating… and uh… enjoying the sun,” he cringed.

“Right, well, if you have any other ideas…” Steve shrugged, stepping back the way he came, “Let me know.”

“Right, yeah, definitely.”

They nodded at each other, like a period onto the end of the conversation, and Eddie had the sudden thought that this was it, they’d part ways and head off to their own kingdoms, never to speak again. Steve turned and kept walking, thankfully not getting back onto the bike like he’d tried to before. He walked through the brush and leaves and with every crunch under his foot, Eddie imagined another nail hammered into the wall slowly building between them. He could see King Steve in a cloak and armour, walking his trusty steed out of the Kingdom of the Freaks, leaving its own ruler behind to watch the neighboring kingdom’s golden knight slip quietly off into the sunset. Nevermind that it was barely noon, the sunset was metaphorical and Eddie could feel the distance in his bones with every inch that grew between them.

“You know, I uh—” he stopped as Steve did, taking a moment to himself before he turned to meet Eddie’s eyes again. “I could help. You know, Dustin’s head would probably explode if he found out you and I were the ones to rescue the damsel Mews.”

The smile on Steve’s face was again a stab to the heart, dazzling and impossible to ignore. It felt like a magnet, pulling Eddie closer until they were standing toe to toe and the distance between kingdoms had shrunk back to nothing.

The king gestured forward, letting Eddie lead the way onto the next quest.

He left the boat. He could come back after the cat was saved, and perhaps after a planned reunion with his fellow majesty. Rick wouldn’t even have to know.

—

Bingo Prompts

[pankaa3226]

No one has ever flirted with Steve the way Eddie flirts with Steve.

And it's not like no one flirts with Steve. God, no, it's not like no one flirts with Steve. Steve can't walk into the grocery store without at least three sets of heads turning and focusing all their attention on him.

And he's not even trying to be cocky about it. That's just the reality he was gifted when he came out of his mother's womb looking like the world's freshest Adonis. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed the colloquialism to "Steve."

Regardless. For as many people like to flirt with him, make themselves known, filtering in and out of his orbit like willing planets, no one knows quite how to get him going like Eddie. Maybe it's that they're not as confident as he is, maybe they're scared of the rejection Eddie was born facing and will die knowing.

Maybe they're scared of ruining their chances. Maybe Eddie isn't.

For whatever reason, Eddie doesn't seem like he's scared. Even though there was a long time before he knew Steve was bi, was just as into the flirting as Eddie was, even though there was a chance (not like it'd ever happen, but the unknown was there) that Steve could have beaten him up just for calling him "sweetheart," he did it anyway. He got right up into Steve's space, close enough that Steve could get high off the remnants of the joint he'd smoked earlier, and gave him a look that offered everything.

And, God, Steve wanted it. He wanted it all.

And so that began months of what Steve has so aptly referred to as torture. Apt, because he knows what it's like. He has the scars and the fear of ice cream and needles to prove it.

But this... this is a different kind of torture. Mental, emotional, spiritual, whatever you call it-- this is meant to tear him apart from the inside out, meant to make him want to rip his own bones out from his body and offer them to Eddie if it meant the other man making a fucking move.

And Steve would, is the thing. He would absolutely make the first move-- it's what he usually does, anyway, and he's got a pretty damn good success rate for it.

But, for whatever reason, this feels different. This back and forth they have, the constant teasing, the sliding in and out of each other's orbits, unable and unwilling to refute the most fundamental laws of gravity... it's something special, at least to Steve. Something sacred.

Which is why, when Eddie calls Steve "Harrington" for the first time in months, his first response is to pout.

They're about halfway through splitting a joint, the sweet smoke curling around wisps of hair and parted lips and filtering in and out of the holes in their sweaters. The air outside is getting colder, thinner, sharper, as the winter months dreg on. But inside the trailer, it's comfortable and warm. Safe.

Steve's being a bit of a hog, and he's man enough to admit that. But he had a shitty day at work and all he wants is to feel nothing other than the weightless relaxation of a good high buzzing through his bones. Sue him for taking a little more than his fair share of the good stuff, even if it is Eddie's.

"Steve," Eddie whines, reaching his hand out and curling his fingers in request. "Give it over."

"No," Steve responds, just on the edge of whiny. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a long, slow, deep drag, feeling the sweet heat of the smoke burning in his lungs, taking up the space where oxygen should be. He goes a little dizzy with it, feels his eyes lower. "Mine."

Steve can't see it, but he knows Eddie's rolling his eyes. Can sense the shift in the air, can sense every little fucking thing about Eddie at any given moment.

"C'mon, Harrington, you're being a brat."

And, normally, Steve would find another aspect of that sentence to freak out about. Would zero in on the word brat and relish in the flare of heat it sends shooting up his spine like firework sparks. Would squint his eyes at Eddie and tilt his head in the way he knows makes him look good, would give him his cutest little smirk and say, "Who, me?" and would preen in the response it gets.

This time, though, he's much too focused on the other name Eddie used for him. The one he hasn't heard come out of Eddie's mouth since before he realized that Steve was, as he put it, "actually a good dude."

He doesn't realize he's pouting until the sudden silence in the room starts to creep in, make a home in the buzzing in his ears. He didn't realize that he didn't say anything, and neither did Eddie, and now they're sitting in a mess of their own making. Of Eddie's own making, really.

His next words come out without effort, without intent.

"Don't call me that."

He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally.

"Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?"

Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie kind of softens, then, and Steve didn't realize he had stiffened until he isn't anymore. He sort of sinks into the couch, spreads his legs imperceptibly wider, and Steve wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the way his left knee brushes against Steve's just barely. Just enough for those heated sparks to send a couple pinpricks across his skin.

"No?" he says, looking over to meet Steve's gaze. His cheeks are flushed, whether from the weed or the heat of the room or the heat between them, and Steve's sure that his look the same. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

Steve's definitely blushing now. He looks away from Eddie, tucks his chin to his chest, lets the joint between his fingers burn away. Eddie takes it from him, gently, and brings it to his lips. Steve hears the paper crackling as he inhales.

His voice is quiet, almost meek, when he speaks. It's completely unlike Steve, completely unlike the persona he used to so proudly take on-- but then again, Eddie is completely unlike anyone that Steve has ever met. He's more real, more human, and in turn, Steve is too.

"...You know."

Eddie makes a little noise, then, something in the back of his throat that was born and died within the very same second it was released. Something soft, almost pained, like his body couldn't help the reaction it had to that sentence.

Steve watches the thin, long line of Eddie's arm reach forward and press the joint into the glass of the ashtray. He follows the motion until Eddie's hand settles into the rips over his knee, fingers intertwining with the thread. His pinkie is dangerously close to Steve's own sweatpant-covered skin, and he feels the contact as if Eddie were touching him.

Eddie's hand twitches like it wants to move, and Steve resists the urge to grab it, hold it within the warmth of his own palms.

"Do I?" Eddie says, his voice quieter than it was a moment ago. That thick silence fills the trailer once more, settling in between the soft buzzing of the lightbulb in the kitchen and the muffled humming of the crickets outside. Steve hears Eddie take a stuttering breath. "Tell me."

Steve sighs, feeling his chest burn as his heartbeat picks up. His throat pounds with the pulsing of it. He places his own hand on his right knee, pinkie finger edging closer and closer to the space where Eddie's meets his. Eddie's hand twitches again.

"Like it when you call me sweet things," he says on an exhale, as though getting it out all in one breath would make it easier. "Like how it makes me feel."

Eddie lets out another one of those noises, then, something more like a cut-off groan. His hand curls into the fabric of his jeans for no more than a second before he releases it, and Steve gets to watch as the blood blanches and then returns to his knuckles.

"Sweet things, huh?" he muses, voice only slightly strained. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say Eddie is nervous. "Like... Stevie?"

Steve hums. "Yeah. I like that."

Eddie's pinkie moves closer. Barely. Imperceptibly, if not for the way Steve is tuned into his every movement, like a dog to the sound of their owner's keys.

"Yeah?"

Steve hums again.

"What about... sweetheart?"

Steve closes his eyes. Lets out a shaky breath, inhales a smoother one.

"Yeah."

Steve feels something brush against his pinkie. Something warm.

"Honey?"

Steve nods, biting his lip. "Mhm."

Eddie lets out a quiet little laugh. "Even big boy?"

Steve returns it helplessly, feels the edges of a smile pulling at his lips. The air feels cold on his teeth, as though he's burning up from the inside out and anything outside of his own body is a cooling salve.

"Especially big boy."

Eddie laughs a little louder, and the jostling of his body brings his pinkie even closer to Steve's. Completely pressed against his own, now.

Steve swears he can feel his heartbeat through it. Or maybe it's his own.

"What about..." Eddie takes a breath. "Love?"

Steve's own breath hitches. He opens his eyes, looks at where their skin is touching in more than one place. He feels it, feels every point of contact where the cells that make Eddie are existing with the cells that make Steve. Wonders, maybe, if they stay here long enough, if they'll merge and mold over time. Become one.

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "I like that one a lot."

Eddie hums, and the room falls back into silence for a moment. Steve's skin burns where their fingers are touching. He moves his hand to the right, just barely, just enough to let Eddie know that he feels it. Just enough to ask Eddie if he does, too.

His response is overwhelming.

Eddie moves his hand to the left, solidifies all the points of contact between them, and Steve feels like he's exploding. Feels like a bubbling pit of lava that's set to burst, to overflow, like it can't hold back anymore. Like it's tried for so long that it's hurting, now, pressurized and boiling and hot, way too fucking hot.

And then, Eddie crosses his pinkie over Steve's, and Steve thinks he's dying.

He takes in a sharp breath like it's the last one he'll ever get, and he doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about it. He knows Eddie is right there with him, knows he's not the only one feeling this irrefutable pull like gravity between them. Knows, hopes, it's only a matter of time before they collide.

Eddie hums again. He taps his pinkie once over the smallest of Steve's knuckles, almost like he's making a decision. He takes a long, slow breath before he speaks.

"You know which one's my favorite?"

Steve's throat clicks. "Which?"

"Look at me."

Steve turns his head to the right for no more than a second before Eddie's lips are on his.

It's hungry, it's indulgent, it's immediately addictive. It feels like breathing.

Eddie presses his whole body against Steve's, and he can feel the way his tendons flex where his hand is covering the back of Steve's. Where their pinkies meet, their fingers intertwine and cross over one another like the roots of a tree, their bodies the whole mycorrhizal network.

The next word is spoken against Steve's lips, and Steve can feel the way his mouth forms around it. Decides, from this moment on, that he never wants to hear it another way.

"Baby."

Steve's exhale is more of a moan, a dying sound that, like Eddie's before, lived for only a moment in his throat before pushing through the wall of his lips. Eddie takes it, holds it in his own mouth, swallows it down hungrily and slides his tongue against Steve's as though asking for more.

"That's--" Steve pants, getting his hands on Eddie's hips and pulling until he's seated in his lap. "Mine too."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his lips still pressed against Steve's. Their words are muffled against each other, but they don't need to hear them to understand. They only need to feel the outline of them, the shape of the consonants and vowels against and around each other's tongues. They only need to press their bodies together and know, intimately, the meaning in each other's hearts.

"Yeah. Want you to call me that forever."

This time, Steve feels Eddie's laughter against his lips. His chest. Feels it bubble up in the space between his ribs, feels it flow into his mouth like a river, swallows it down like the first glass of water after a run. Feels his own creep up behind his teeth in return, gives it back to Eddie like an offering, who takes it greedily. Hungrily. Gratefully.

"Think that can be arranged, baby."

[pankaa3226]

Man, this is not funny. Such jumpscares should be off the list, okay? Pookie's gonna be just fine. Don't take my boy away, I've already lost one. Stop breaking my heart, he's coming home in six months (mark my words, I want to be right, he can't d-word).

[pankaa3226]

Season 2 AU where the last person Eddie ever expects to see show up at his table in the woods is Nancy Wheeler.

He says exactly as much and she cuts to the chase, “Do you make deals for anything other than drugs?”

Eddie blinks.

The answer is yes. Alcohol. Illegal fireworks. It may take some time, but he can even get you a passable fake ID but - “What is Nancy Wheeler looking for?”

“Friendship.”

Eddie blinks again, dumbfounded. He asks the question slowly like approaching an animal you don’t understand, “You…want me…to be your friend?”

“No,” She says quick and dismissive, dropping her binder of books onto the table and pulling out her neatly labeled English notebook. “You know Steve Harrington?”

“Do I know Steve Harrington?” He asks dully. “Is there someone in this town who doesn’t?”

“I want you to be his friend.”

“I…what?” He asks, baffled. Truly baffled. Even more baffled when she rips a page out of her English notebook and hands it to him. It’s a depressingly short list labeled Steve’s Favorite Things. “I- I need you to back up? What’s happening?”

“I’m making a deal with you,” Nancy says which isn’t how drug dealing works at all. “I want you to be friends with Steve and I’ll pay you.”

She opens her little pocketbook, pulls out her matching wallet, and holds out twenty bucks. She says, “I don’t have a lot but I can do twenty dollars a week. Thats a little under three dollars a day to be someone’s friend and you don’t even have to talk to him every day.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks. Sure. He’ll entertain this Twilight Zone episode for a second because, “Why would I be friends with Steve Harrington?”

“Because he doesn’t have any,” Nancy says and then sighs. She looks tired. “Steve stopped talking to his old friends last year which. That’s not a bad thing. They’re assholes. But he did that for me and now he won’t talk to me be-

“-cause you smashed his heart into a million tiny pieces?”

She gives him a look that makes him think twice about saying anything else, “Steve got hurt. I hurt him but he also got physically hurt. You saw him and I - We’ve been through a lot. All of us but he’s shutting me out.”

“He’s shutting everybody out,” She adds. “I’m worried about him.”

Okay? Edide thinks. That’s sweet and all but-

“What does that have to do with me?” He asks. “Don’t know if you noticed but I’m a freak.”

Nancy smiles, “You run Hellfire.”

“I don’t think Harrington is going to be up for some fantasy role playing, honey.”

“No, probably not,” Nancy concedes, “But it’s not about that. It’s about you and the effect you have on the people in Hellfire. Every year, you bring together people who probably never would have talked to anybody and gave them somewhere safe to be. That’s what Steve needs. He needs a friend.”

“He needs you,” She says, pushing the money across the table. “So, accept my offer.”

Well…

If Eddie thought more about this maybe he would’ve seen how this was going to inevitably blow up in his face but he wasn’t thinking about that.

He was thinking about eighty bucks a month and now many records that could buy. He was thinking about gas money and movie tickets, not about what Steve was going to think if he found out or how bad he’s going to feel about it so…

He sticks his hand out to shake, “Deal.”

[pankaa3226]

Now this absolutely destroyed me, jesus, I can't think about that

what if steve and dustin find eddie's dead body in the upside down like barb

[pankaa3226]

STRANGER THINGS S5 first trailer

Here we go byler nation, I'm screaming and crying and omfg

[pankaa3226]

I need to get this off my chest, because I haven't felt like this for a looooong time, so here it goes.

Even though I just joined the Stranger Things fandom, it feels like I've been here for a while. Like, I know I wasn't a part of a lot of stuff that happened, but it still feels like fragments of those things are lingering around and they attach themselves to anyone who decides to jump into this rabbit hole.

The very first time something similar happened was when I joined the D:BH fandom a little over six years ago. And frankly enough, joining the One Direction fandom was the last one, just a couple of months after that. Yet, the latter was different somehow.

D:BH is my home, it's literally the only thing that kept me together back then, but Stranger Things? Man, it feels like D:BH all over again. My lifeline. Something I never knew I would need at any point. Something I will cherish because it does help me through tough times.

So now with this monologue, I'm gently, and quietly honoring the teaser of season five that's coming today. Because I haven't felt this much alive since 2020.

[pankaa3226]

guys reminder for the teaser that it's going to be intentionally misleading and not to let that deter you...they're going to be very intentional with what scenes they show and the meaning could be interpreted completely differently with context :))

[pankaa3226]

[pankaa3226]

He's my barbie doll at this point. Anyway-

[pankaa3226]

hm...wonder who Steve is with 🙃

[pankaa3226]

Haaaaave I ever posted this here? I think I have not. Anyways. Here's one to flop (or not, prove me wrong)

On a scale of one to ten, how late am I with the hype? And why do I have a sliver of hope that he'll come back?

[pankaa3226]

Try, Try Again Pt 2: The Trailer

The boys give it another go after a movie night at the Munsons'.

rating: E | cw: none | tags: 5+1, pwp, virgin Eddie, POV Eddie, coitus interruptus

Pt. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Also on AO3

⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️

It’s over a week later that Eddie is alone with Steve again. It’s not like they didn’t see each other, but it was usually Steve and Eddie and Robin, or Steve and Eddie and Nancy and Jon and Argyle, or Steve and Eddie and the kids, or some other combination. Steve hadn’t brought it up again, of course he didn’t—it was a fluke of the universe that had Steve Harrington offer to devirginize Eddie in the first place. It just so happens that that offer had thrown open a door in Eddie’s mind that he hadn’t known was shut tight and locked. Hadn’t known existed.

Eddie does his level best not to jerk it to Steve still, but when it gets dark and Wayne heads out, Eddie will be thinking about Rob Lowe, or Harrison Ford, and that lush chest hair will shift to something softer, the coifs will lighten a bit, and suddenly it’s Steve seducing him with a whip and a hat, “you belong in a museum,”-style.

It makes it a bit difficult to hang out with him, honestly, so Eddie’s taken to doing what he does best: running like a bat out of hell. Metaphorically.

He can’t look Steve in the eye without picturing him going down on him? He doesn’t look Steve in the eye.

He can’t feel his thigh press against his during movie nights without thinking about where else he might press against? He moves to the floor when Steve tries.

And Eddie knows this isn’t sustainable, and it’s honestly kind of mean, Steve looked like a kicked puppy last time he visited him and Robin at Family Video, but he can’t—

Fuck, he can’t look at him without getting hard, and that’s not exactly something he wants to advertise to their friends and family. So Eddie avoids Steve as much as he can, until he can’t, until there’s a movie night at the trailer because the Harringtons are home and the Wheelers still don’t approve of Eddie, and the Byers have kind of a packed house now.

Anyway, it’s movie night and it’s winding down. Jon and Argyle left an hour ago; Nancy and Robin are heading out; Steve busies himself cleaning up. He’s a guest, he doesn’t need to, god knows Wayne has dealt with worse from Eddie. Besides, Eddie had known what he was signing up for when he offered to host.

Eddie could ask Steve to leave if he wants to, knows Steve would leave. He’d do it with a kicked-puppy look but would do it all the same. The kicker is, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want Steve to leave at all, he wants to beg Steve to let them try again, to kiss him properly, this time without bleeding all over Steve like an idiot.

The door shuts behind the others, and Eddie can hear the grinding of gravel under wheels. Steve comes up behind him, rests his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. It’s not a firm grip, Eddie could eke out from underneath it if he wanted, but it’s a weight keeping him still. Not bad-still. Heavy like a blanket, not heavy like a textbook.

“I love Robin, but sometimes I wish our telepathy was real,” Steve breaks the silence, chagrined, and turns Eddie to face him, hands on both shoulders.

“Huh?” What the hell does that mean?

Then Steve’s lips are on his, and any questions Eddie might have had go away in favor of the soft drag of their mouths together, of Steve’s hand curling into Eddie’s hair.

Steve breaks away, moving less than an inch. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have just…” he trails off, backing away a bit. “Do you still need… help?” glancing downward meaningfully.

His brain is muddled from even that brief kiss, but even with a little reorientation, Eddie has no idea what Steve is talking about. “What?”

“You know, with your… virginity problem. Still very down to help, if you need it.”

“Oh,” Eddie says eloquently, his blood rushing south. “Well, I mean, I haven’t managed to find and hook up with anyone else in the time since I fucked up your shirt, if that’s what you mean. So. Yes?”

“Good.” The vehemence of that one word is kind of surprising, but Eddie has no time to think about it, Steve continuing, “Want to give it another go? No nosebleeds this time, promise,” he jokes. “Can’t let my five-star rating suffer like that.” The hand still in Eddie’s hair tightens and loosens, as if he doesn’t quite want to let go, and fuck if Steve is still willing—

“Far be it from me to deny the king,” Eddie replies, and then Steve is leaning in to kiss him again, stepping into him until Eddie’s pressed up against a wall by the door. There’s nothing Eddie could have done to prevent himself from gasping into it.

It’s a little hard to breathe, but Eddie doesn’t need to breathe, not when the hard lines of Steve Harrington are pressing up against him. Steve’s tongue brushes his lips and presses in, and Eddie moans at the feeling of their tongues sliding against each other. They’d kissed that first day, the one Eddie still kind of feels was a dream, but it’s so much better from this angle, and they’re not even high this time. Eddie can feel himself already starting to stiffen up in his pants.

He wants to do this forever.

Carefully, Eddie wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrist, wraps his arm around his waist, pulling him in even closer. Steve moves easily, moaning a little himself, strong but shifting how Eddie wants.

And oh man, does Eddie want. Jesus Christ, could they have been doing this this whole week? He never expected Steve to follow up, thought it was just an idle, high thought that he’d ignore after that last disastrous attempt.

Fuck it. He doesn’t know what the hell set Steve off like this, but he is not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Just Steve.

Steve does something with his tongue and Eddie loses his train of thought and lets out a truly embarrassing whimper that Steve smiles into. He’s so warm, he’s so soft and male and undeniably present against Eddie, and Steve pushes a thigh between Eddie’s legs and pushes up and asks, “Is this okay?” as if Eddie would ever say anything other than yes.

Eddie nods jerkily against Steve, doing his level best not to break contact between them even as his hips jerk forward against the firm pressure of Steve’s leg.

Holy shit.

This is the first time someone other than himself has touched his dick, however indirectly, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to go back to his right hand. He grinds against it once, twice, and it feels so good, Eddie doesn’t know how it—it feels so—

He’s getting close already, bearing more and more weight down, whimpering into Steve’s mouth and getting moans in return, a hard line of Steve’s cock against his hip, which, shit, how is that even hotter? “We—we gotta slow down, man, I’m so close—”

And Steve pulls away. Eddie feels empty at the loss even if it’s what he’d asked for, his hips jerking forward into nothing, breathes out a plaintive, “What—why’d you stop?” in a way that’s way whinier than he’d ever heard come out of his mouth before.

“Gotta—gotta go slower, right? We can do slow.” Steve breathes a little against him for a moment, recalibrating. “Here, let’s get you out of this, is that okay?” Steve pulls at the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” he says, rushing to doff the curséd thing. Steve backs away a few steps, leaving plenty of room for Eddie to hurriedly grapple with his tee. It gets stuck for a moment over his head, but with a tug Eddie whips it off and he’s shirtless in front of Steve.

And Steve looks.

Eddie isn’t self-conscious about his appearance, not generally. He’s a gay loser in the middle of nowhere, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know, at least in theory, that he’s someone’s type, scars notwithstanding.

Even still, he doesn’t expect the hunger in Steve’s gaze, dragging down and back up, lingering on the clearly visible bulge in his pants. He had always figured that someone interested in him would be someone in a city, who’s into the whole metalhead vibe, maybe someone into leather or something, not Steve, with his polos and light-wash jeans that he fills out so well, front and back, he’s learning.

And hell, the number of times he’s fantasized about Steve at this point have tons of points in favor of ‘what you look like doesn’t indicate what you’re into,’ Eddie supposes, but like…

Is Steve actually… into this?

“Now you,” he says.

Steve takes a very deliberate step back, quirking a brow. Both he and Eddie chuckle, and Eddie pointedly does not step forward to help, not that Steve needs it. He grabs the hem with crossed arms and drags it slowly, too slowly to be an accident, up and over his head.

The view of Steve’s stomach, the dark hair leading downward, one small mole peeking over his jeans, is enough to make Eddie’s heart skip a beat. He fares only slightly better as that bit of hair grows wider and thicker, a lush garden on Steve’s chest, pink nipples peeking through in the cold of the trailer.

Eddie needs his hands in that yesterday. Fortunately, it looks like (at least for now), that’s allowed. And hey, if he makes it good enough, maybe Steve will fuck him again later, after they’ve done it once. How he makes it good enough, he has no idea, given he has zero experience before Steve.

At least Steve hasn’t been with a guy before. He’s just competing against the people Steve’s actually attracted to. Cool.

Wait. Has he been with a guy before? He and Tommy were awfully close, and jocks are notoriously homoerotic, at least in the pornos Eddie has snuck, and—

It doesn’t fucking matter, Steve is here, shirtless, right now, rightfully smug with how Eddie’s jaw has dropped, hot enough to melt the ice caps and make Eddie convert religions to thank whoever the hell dreamed him up.

Eddie can’t not close that gap, and so he does. He lunges forward, hands-first, and finally, finally sinks his fingers into Steve’s chest hair, running his fingernails up and down through the coarse strands, and Steve lets him. He closes the gap between their mouths again, and Steve lets him do that too, receives him eagerly, paws at his elbows and wraps his arm around Eddie’s waist in a mirror to their earlier position.

One of Eddie’s nails catches on Steve’s nipple, and he lets out a moan. It’s the most erotic thing Eddie has ever heard, and so he presses forward again, trying to drink it straight from its source.

Then Steve is lowering himself to the armrest of the couch—when did they get that far from the wall?—and bringing Eddie down with him. Steve drags one hand up to the nape of Eddie’s neck, pulling him down in an arch as he leans back, spreading his thighs wide to fit Eddie between them.

If Eddie thought grinding against Steve’s thigh was the best thing he’d ever felt? Grinding against his dick is another beast entirely, layers of fabric in the way be damned.

Just holy shit, holy shit—

The front door swings open, and there’s Wayne, two shopping bags from Melvald’s swinging from his hands.

“Hey Eddie, I’m ho—holy mother of—!”

“Wayne!” Eddie shouts, jumping like a startled raccoon away from where Steve sits reclined against the sofa, hands raised like there’s a gun aimed at him rather than a judgmental look. “It’s—I can—I mean—”

“We were just—”

Wayne drops a bag to the floor so he can pinch the bridge of his nose with one hand, sighing. “Eddie,” he says, cutting off both boys’ attempted excuses, “You couldn’ta done this an hour ago?”

“…What?”

“Or at least keep it to your room. Lord knows I love you, but I do not need to see—that.”

“You don’t, I mean, it’s—I’m—”

“Boy, I just got home. He treating you right?”

Eddie just blinks. “Uh—”

“Well as I can, sir,” Steve answers. Eddie looks at him for the first time since Wayne barged in—that’s not true, since Wayne got home at the same time as he always does—and notices the white knuckles gripping the upholstery.

Wayne looks at Eddie, so incredibly done with this whole situation.

“Y—uh. Yeah, he’s, uh, he’s um. He’s good.”

A nod. “Then he won’t mind helping you put these away.” He picks up the bag on the ground, pushing them both into Eddie’s hands as he stammers on, and leans in. “We can have your little crisis later, but I love you, Eddie. Ain’t nothing gonna change that.” Wayne clears his throat and continues on his way. “Right now, I’m getting a shower, eating my dinner, and going to sleep. You boys have fun, but for the love of god, pease keep your—tomfoolery off of the couch. I sleep on there.”

And then Eddie is alone with Steve again, hands full of groceries rather than skin, blushing down to his chest.

Steve chuckles after a moment, a bit thready.

“So, uh. that’s Wayne, huh?”

Eddie nods silently. The mood is entirely gone, as is his erection, thank fuck.

“He seems,” Steve coughs a little, “cool.”

Eddie’s hands tighten around the handles. “He is.”

“So, uh—”

“I am so sorry,” Eddie interrupts, covering his face, mortified. “If you want to go home and never see me again I get it, I completely lost track of time, I—”

“Hey.” Steve takes Eddie’s wrists gently, bringing his hands down. This is so humiliating. “Hey. It’s fine. I don’t want to go home and I definitely want to see you again. Here,” he takes one of the bags from Eddie and Eddie’s hand with the other, pulling him towards the kitchen. “We can try again later, it’s okay. Maybe not here again, and my parents are home for another two weeks or so, but—the van, maybe?” Steve frowns thoughtfully. “Unless you can wait ’til they’re gone, of course. You do deserve to have your first time in a proper bed.”

“What—you still—”

“Yeah, man, if you still want.” The bags go on the counter, Steve slowly unpacking the one in his hand. “Tonight might be off the table, but I mean. There are options.”

Eddie nods dumbly. He’s been doing a lot of that, tonight.

“Cool, then we can figure out when later. For now,” he brandishes a can of beans, “where do these go?”

⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️

And so they are interrupted, farther than they got before but nowhere near what Eddie's looking for.

Next time: The Van!

Pt. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Also on AO3

[pankaa3226]

Eddie who develops some sort of fainting problem post demobats that will comedically announce when he's about to pass out with a simple "goodbye" "down I go" or "see you in a bit" before crumpling

Steve who has brain damage induced seizures that sings a little jingle mid aura as he's laying down

[pankaa3226]

I know we love writing Steve and Eddie as these big ol' romantic guys, like fully waxing poetics and throwing petals everywhere.

But. Listen. This is totally their dynamic.

*Eddie sitting on his couch during a movie night, Steve is in the opposite arm chair with a heaping bowl of popcorn in his lap*

EDDIE: You should come over here and cuddle me.

STEVE: I would, but I'm eating popcorn and also you keep farting. So I'm staying right where I am.

EDDIE: I am not farting! You're making up—

STEVE: *giving Eddie a you're bullshitting look*

EDDIE: Maybe I tooted, man! It's my couch, I can do whatever I want! Just get over here and cuddle with me. You've been at work all day and I miss you.

STEVE: Mm, but I'm eating popcorn, though. And you didn't want any. *shoves a giant handful into his mouth, obstructing his voice* I also know you. If I come over there, you're gonna stick your grimy hands into my popcorn and eat all of it and then when I ask you to make more, you'll whine and groan and be a big baby about it. So. *he shrugs, swallows his mouthful, immediately replaces it with more popcorn* No, I'm not gonna come over there.

EDDIE: *pouting* My hands aren't grimy.

STEVE: I can literally see the paint from your mini-figure things. I don't want paint flakes in my food.

EDDIE: *still pouting* It adds to the flavor.

STEVE: *deadpan* It leads to lead poisoning. *picks up a piece of popcorn and flicks it at Eddie, watching it bounce off his head* Leave me alone, I'm trying to watch the movie.

EDDIE: *sulking now, huffing and puffing to himself, arms crossed tight over his chest, not even watching the movie, instead watching Steve* I should've pissed in your popcorn when you weren't looking.

STEVE: *sighs* If I come over to the couch, will you stop being annoying?

EDDIE: I could be persuaded.

STEVE: *gets up and plops down next to Eddie, still holding onto his popcorn bowl* My hands are greasy with butter. I'm not cuddling with you yet.

EDDIE: *ignores him and goes immediately for the popcorn, scooping up as much as he can fit between his fingers and shoving all of it in his mouth—well, almost all of it, some of it falls into the ends of his hair*

STEVE: Eddie, come on! I thought you wanted to cuddle?!

EDDIE: *smiles, teeth, popcorn and all* Nah, I just wanted your food. Thanks, by the way.

STEVE: *sighs and resigns himself to having to share his popcorn* I have got to stop falling for this every time.

EDDIE: *loudly shushes Steve* You're talking over the movie, be quiet.

STEVE: I hate you.

EDDIE: No, you don't.

STEVE: *sighing again* No, I really, really don't.

*Eddie cuddles into Steve's side, stealing more popcorn as they both watch the movie...and then...a small toot is heard*

STEVE: Stop fucking farting, Eddie!

EDDIE: *cackling*

[pankaa3226]

Steve’s always a little insecure in his relationships, always worries that they’re only in it for a short while, that all their promises are just words, no truth behind them.

He’s two months into his relationship with Eddie, and Steve’s already very in love with him, and it’s terrifying. This is the most in love Steve has ever been.

They said it for the first time the other day, during a super romantic and cosy night of Chinese takeout and nostalgic kids movies, snuggled up on the couch with never ending kisses. They had sex that night too, for the first time.

They had fooled around only a couple of times before that, nothing too serious, and only twice, since Eddie’s Demisexual. Steve didn’t know that waiting was exactly what he needed, assurance that Eddie wasn’t just there for his body.

After that night he feels even more connected to Eddie, feels the love radiating from his goofy smile and his puppy dog eyes. And the way Eddie kissed him, the way Eddie touched him, it was unforgettable. Genuine electricity. Steve had never felt so special and precious in his life, never felt so loved.

He’s still got his insecurities though, now that they’ve stepped up their relationship, Steve’s gotten a lot more comfortable, shown the secret side of him, the side that only Robin knows about really. He’s worried, like all the rest of them, that Eddie won’t like him anymore, that he’ll leave.

Robin tells him he’s being negative and stupid, Eddie’s totally the one, she can feel it!!

Steve wants to feel it, thinks the tips of his fingers are buzzing from it, but he just won’t let himself. Not yet. Not until he knows for sure.

They’re on FaceTime, having dinner together because Eddie’s gone away for a few nights with his band for a gig, and they miss eachother. Eddie called him, no prompting needed, and when Steve answered he said: “Stevie, baby, oh my god I missed you— hey fuckin, Jeff!! Look at my boyfriend, how hot is he? I got a cute ass boyfriend, wow, I feel so much better now I get to talk to you again. How are you, sweetheart? I hope you’re okay.”

Steve’s heart fucking bloomed. He feels nauseous he’s so fucking in love.

“What are you doing, Ed’s? You keep looking away from me.”

“I know, a total crime, don’t hate me. I’d much rather look at you, baby— hey shut up, Jeff, let me be in love!” Eddie yelled, tossing a pen at his bandmate across the room, “Sorry, Stevie. Uh, I’m doing some research for some songs I’m writing, making sure I’m not gonna fucking accidentally steal someone’s copyrighted track. Boring stuff, legal stuff, what are you doing?”

“Not much, missing you.”

Eddie chuckles, “God, I miss you too. Want me to come over when I get home? I’d invite you to mine, but these guys always get grouchy after a long drive home and our unit would probably just depress you.”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiled sweetly, picking at his dinner. They fall into silence for a while, Eddie deep in concentration, his eyebrows furrowed and his tongue poking out over his top lip as he types away on his laptop.

Steve’s got this question gnawing at him. One of those dumb fucking questions that he shouldn’t ask, because it’s stupid. The kind of question that if he asks too many of them, his parter will get pissed off and leave, or yell at him to stop. He’s already asked Eddie one weird question, but it wasn’t even that weird, it still got a strange reaction from Eddie though. Steve didn’t take it as a good one.

Fuck, he can’t help it though, it just starts coming out of his mouth before he can really stop it, “Hey, uh, Eddie…?”

“Yah, light of my life?” He laughs to himself, isn’t looking at the camera so he can’t see Steve begin to blush, thankfully.

“If you became a rich and famous rockstar, would you leave me behind? Be honest.” Steve nodded, “I can take it-“

“Of course not, Stevie.” Eddie said, still looking at his laptop screen, it seems like he barely even thinks about the answer, “Why would I do that?”

“If you were famous, you’d have other options.”

“Yeah, but I have you. Would you leave me, if you got famous?”

“No.” Steve snickers, like it’s obvious. Because it is, because Steve’s attached to Eddie, obviously, Steve loves Eddie more than Eddie loves Steve, probably.

“See, so why would I?” Eddie says simply, a small smile on his face as he looks at Steve like he’s being goofy and weird.

Steve should just shut his mouth before Eddie starts to hate him, but he just can’t, “Well, there are better options for famous people.”

“Not for me.” Eddie says simply, and it kills Steve, genuinely, a fucking stake through the heart in the best kind of way.

“What if you were on a red carpet, and… uh… oh, what if Hugh Jackman hit on you? Would you chose him over me?”

Eddie laughed, “Look, Hugh is hot, but he’s not as hot as you. Have you seen your ass, Stevie?”

Steve flustered, “We- Uh, what about like, Dave from Foo Fighters? He’s really hot.”

“Not my type at all, besides he’s a cheater so ew.”

“Okay…” Steve wonders, “Megan Fox?”

“Gorgeous! But I don’t swing that way.”

“Right, yeah, of course.” Steve sighed, “Oh, you really like Robert Irwin, right?”

Eddie laughed, looked over at Steve on his phone and smiled sweetly, rubbed a hand over his mouth, “Yeah, I like him, he’s cute. Wanna know why?”

Suddenly, Steve feels very jealous. It must show on his face too because Eddie snickers at him, “Uh, why?”

“Because he reminds me of you, dork.”

“What? How?” Steve is baffled.

“He’s cute, I like your little blonde highlights and he’s blonde. And he’s fit like you I guess. But mostly because he’s like, just a good looking chill out dude until you hear him talk, then you realise he’s a huge massive super ultra dork and you can’t help but want to know more about him.” Eddie smiled, turned back to his laptop and Steve watched him scroll through a document through the reflection of his glasses, “If Robert Irwin ever hit on me I’d be flattered as fuck. But I’d kindly reject him, and tell him I’ve got my own dork at home who prepared me for such a moment, by asking stupid questions like would you ever leave me— no Steve. I wouldn’t. Duh. You’re too good of a kisser.”

Steve laughed, let himself feel flustered for a while. Satisfied that he let himself be just the right amount of clingy to let Eddie know that he’s kinda like that, but not too clingy that he scared Eddie away.

“Would you take me with you then? When you’re rich and famous?”

“Oh, you know it baby.” Eddie grinned, “When I’m making millions, you’re quitting your goddamned job and travelling the world with me, and I’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want. I’ll be your full time sugar daddy no doubts about it, gorgeous.”

Steve loves this guy so much. “Yeah, sure, you can be my sugar daddy the day you figure out how to ask me how to touch your dick without stuttering and blushing and hiding in my neck about it.”

Eddie stuttered, clearly caught off guard as he began to choke on air. Steve could hear his friends in the room around Eddie begin to laugh and make fun of him. Steve laughed with him, because Eddie knows how Steve feels about that, he knows that Steve likes how shy Eddie got in bed.

Steve thinks it’s incredibly hot, a guy so confident and out there reduced to a stuttering mess the second he gets a “hot” guy in bed, as Eddie said.

Eddie’s friends begin to heckle and tease him for a bit, and Steve listens in silence as his boyfriend fights with the lot of them.

“Hey, Eddie?” Steve asks, once they’re calmed down and quiet again.

Eddie sighs, rolls his head away from his laptop and over to look at Steve, Steve hates this. Eddie smiles anyway, even though Steve is sure he’s faking it now, and says, “Yes, my love?”

He wants to take it back. He wants to shut his mouth.

“Never mind.” Steve shakes his head.

“No, my love. Ask me, go on. It was a follow up question to the whole fame thing, right?” Eddie shrugged, “I only sighed because you should know that how I feel isn’t something so easily raptured by a mere celebrity.”

“Oh…” Steve nodded, thought about that for a moment. Wondered if anyone else in his situation would have known that, maybe he’s just insecure, too insecure, Eddie’s bound to get annoyed by it. It seems like he already is. “I was just going to ask if you’d ever write a song about me?”

Eddie smiles, blushes, and it’s so sweet, “I already have, Stevie. Three.” He looks back at his laptop, groans and Steve sees in his glasses reflection that Eddie closes all the tabs he’s looking at in anger, “Yah, you’re so easy to write love songs about to be completely honest. But no, I’m not telling you anything about them. You’ll hear when they’re ready.”

Steve is over the moon, “Okay.”

Silence again. He watches Eddie open up a new application, Steve recognises as his music app thing. He makes demos and back tracks with it, which is cool. Eddie begins to play around with if a bit, and Steve listens to the noise and wonders what song Eddie’s trying to create.

He’s got that urge again. God, he’s so clingy. Steve can’t stand how clingy he is, no one can. It’s only a matter of time before Eddie’s telling him he’s too clingy and walking out the door.

He really can’t help himself. Maybe he’s just self destructive.

“Eddie, would you tell the world I was your boyfriend, if you get famous?”

“Yup.” Eddie nodded, “But they’d only know your name, and your face, and how much I love you. Don’t want you getting stalked by weirdos— you know, if I get famous enough that people want to stalk my boyfriend.”

Steve thinks that’s really sweet of him, especially since he had that rolling off the top of his tongue, no thinking time needed.

“Well… would you take me to all your A lister parties and events?”

“If there’s no plus one option, I’m not going sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you sitting at home, worried.”

“What would you do if a celebrity like… hmm, Eddie Van Halen hit on me?”

Eddie grinned, “Then I’d say you’re seeing ghosts, sunshine.”

“If he were alive, though?”

“Then… I’d think it’s awesome that we have something in common, you’re our type— oh! And then you’d get to say you were hit on by two guys named Eddie who played guitar super good.”

Steve laughed, “Would you introduce me to Sabrina Carpenter?”

“It would be the first thing I’d do.”

“Would you get jealous if she hit on me?”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie nodded, “I’m gay as fuck and I’d still take her out on a date, you know, she’s pretty. She’s like, the girl version of you. Anyway I’d be super jealous and heartbroken but I’d tell you to take your chance.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.” He assured, “You will be hearing from me, I’ll be that crazy ex just waiting for you two to break up. I’d sabotage so bad, but I’d just want you to be happy. But I would hate if that was without me.”

Steve smiled, “Imagine if we were animals? Would you still fall in love with me if we were both little otters or something?”

“Yup, I’d be head otter heals for you.”

Steve laughed, “Dude, you’re so lame.”

“Don’t call me dude whist asking these clingy ass questions.” Eddie snickered out, and Steve shut up.

He swallowed. Stared hard at the camera and tried to surpress his sudden urge to cry.

“You get so fucking clingy sometimes.” Eddie muttered, quiet enough that his friends couldn’t hear him, “I genuinely didn’t think someone could get this clingy.”

Steve hates him.

He’s about to shut off the call when he sees something flash in Eddie’s glasses, squints to get a better look at whatever is on Eddie’s screen.

“Hey, uh, forgot to mention my uncle had this watch he thought you might like— cause I got one, but you don’t wear silver do you?”

“Nope, never.” Steve shook his head, bile rising in his throat, he can’t figure out what’s taken up all of Eddie’s attention, “Tell him thanks though.”

“Got it.” Eddie muttered to himself, pressed enter on his keyboard, and a webpage popped up with large images of golden band rings.

“What are you doing?” Steve wonders quietly.

“Huh? Oh, just mixing some music still, like I was before. Just trying to think up what I should do next.”

Steve is not that stupid. He knows Eddie’s lying. He’s lying so hard right now.

Eddie grabs his phone, pulls it close to his face so Steve can only see from his nose up, and he begins tapping away at his screen.

“Sorry, I’ll put you down in a sec, cutie, just checking something.”

With this closer angle, Steve can see very clearly what Eddie’s checking on his phone. He’s checking his bank account.

He’s checking his bank account, looking back at the web page of rings on his laptop, then pondering something in his head.

“Everything okay, Eddie?”

“Yup, just thinking up some lyric changes. Got them all written in my phone, I’ll put you down now.”

He’s such a liar, Steve’s just confused. And hurt.

“Why are you so quiet?” Eddie wondered, his phone back down on the table like it was before, eyes back on his laptop as he scrolls through rings, “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” Steve nodded.

Eddie sighed, “Hey, would you still love me if we were animals? You never answered back.” Eddie said, “What if I was an otter and you were a little fishy?”

Steve hesitates, “You’d probably eat me.”

“I’d eat you right now, Steve.” Eddie said flatly, then he ducked his head and whispered, “I miss the taste of you. I love kissing you- Hey, can I suck your dick sometime? Been thinkin’ about it.”

“Oh, now you’re brave enough to ask whilst you’re a million miles away and not even looking at me?”

“Yup.” Eddie snickered, froze for a moment with his brows furrowed, clicked on a ring and zoomed in on it, glanced between his laptop and Steve a few times. “Uh, sorry, what were we talking about?”

Steve can see the description of the ring he’s looking at. He can see, clear as day, the description reads (backwards): “Solar - Gold embossed engagement ring.”

Steve can’t believe this. Eddies looking at engagement rings. Is he looking at engagement rings?

“How much do you love me?” Steve asked, a vomit of words.

Eddie smiled, hung his head like he’s all embarrassed about it, “A lot, Stevie baby. A lot.” Eddie chuckled, “I can’t believe I get you all to myself. Not to be poetic or anything, but my life was a dark, empty night sky before I met you, and then suddenly my life was summer sun, gorgeous. You’re my sunshine, right?”

“Right.” Steve nodded, “I love when you call me that.” He squints at the reflection in Eddie’s glasses and can make out the pattern of the sun embossed on the ring.

“God, I miss you.” Eddie sighs, adds the ring to his shopping cart and keeps scrolling.

Jeff walks behind Eddie on his way out of the kitchen and stops in his tracks, walks over.

“Just working on that song, look good?” Eddie asks, and Jeff leans down on his shoulder, “I think if I add this in, this take could be the one. What do you think? Or do you think I’m being too stupid? Is it too soon for that big moment?”

Oh, fuck, he’s really looking at engagement rings.

Jeff smiles, squeezes Eddie’s shoulder encouragingly, “I mean, yeah, in theory. But you’ve never done anything by the book, and all your best choices have been a little crazy like that. If you feel it’s the right choice, and will work well with the music, then yeah, by all means.”

Eddie gins, looks back at Steve, “Yeah, it’s definitely the right choice.”

Jeff snickers, wonders off shaking his head, and Eddie looks so giddy as he takes one last look at the ring.

Eddie’s thinking about proposing to Steve.

“Don’t you think I’m clingy?” Steve blurted out, catching Eddie completely off guard.

Eddie glanced at him, sighed, carefully shut his laptop and set his attention on Steve, “Well, yeah? You are clingy.” Eddie shrugged, “Dude, you don’t understand how lucky I feel, I think. I like that. I mean, you love me so much that you wanna cling to me like a fucking koala. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten bored of me yet.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, Steve feels so warm and fuzzy inside.

“I love you so much.” He mumbles, brings the phone close to his face to virtually kiss Eddie, “Do you want to move in with me?”

“What?” Eddie stuttered out, “Uh, are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious in this conversation and also about this relationship. About you.”

“Fuck.” Eddie sighed, laughed a little delirious, “Yeah, yes, I do. I’d love that, sunshine.”

“When you get back then. Just… just come over and don’t leave.” Steve nodded, “We can talk more then, about us, and everything. I just want you around me always.”

“God, Stevie, you don’t know how much I feel that in my heart.” Eddie said, two hands pressed over his heart to swoon a little.

Steve doesn’t tell him that he knows of Eddie’s plans, and five months later, when the special day comes, Steve doesn’t tell him that he’s already seen the ring. Though, he does mention it in his vowels, tells everyone watching just how much harder that evening made Steve fall in love with Eddie. That he couldn’t believe someone was falling so hard, so fast, just as he was.

Steve never doubted another relationship again, purely because his only relationship from then on was with Eddie.

He’d never felt as secure as he does with Eddie, since that night, never second guessed his intentions, never doubted their love.

They’re mutually head otter heals for each other. Robin was right, Eddie is the one.

[pankaa3226]

If you’re an ex larrie, cool

If you’re a larrie, nice

If you were never a larrie, excellent

But if your blog exists for the sole purpose of bashing someone else, or you bash someone else for their preferance in general, get the fuck out