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Steve that doesn't realize dating and sleeping with Eddie is pretty fucking gay till he tells Robin and she's freaking out over him liking dick and not telling her

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The Adventures of Edwin Munson

Part One FortyFive

“Missed you,” Eddie leans really close, watching as Stevie frowns, then wrinkles up his nose.

“Was right here,” Stevie answers, still sleepy, eyes still closed. Stevie yawns, and Eddie tilts his head to see right to the back. Stevie’s teeth are there, and he’s pink on the inside, but then his tongue gets in the way and Stevie closes his mouth again.

“No, you go somewhere else when you’re dreaming.”

Steve blows air out of his nose, then a small laugh, “okay baby.”

Half packet of goldfish.

Eddie sprinkles them into the lunch box.

No, whole packet.

Eddie sprinkles the rest.

Stevie Love likes goldfish.

Apple, sandwich, goldfish, Eddie stares down at it a little longer. Stevie Love really likes fruit, so Eddie adds a pear. The he decides he wants the pear himself, and swaps it for a banana. He views their lunch boxes, sitting next to each other on the counter. Eddie is pretty sure he’s not missing anything.

He tears off the corner of a cereal box flap, carefully drawing a heart on it before he drops it into Stevie Loves lunch box.

There. All done. Finished.

Eddie lets himself into the back of the flower shop. There’s been a delivery, Eddie can smell it. There’s new scents of flowers since yesterday. It was the delivery man that Eddie likes. He looks old, like Hopper, and smells like a kind of cigarette Eddie’s never smelled anywhere else, and Eddie can still smell the shadow of it in the air. They’re made with brown paper, Eddie has seen. But he always whistles wherever he goes, and Eddie likes that.

“Eddie? That you hon?”

“It’s me!” Eddie calls back. He pauses, still gripping at his hung up jacket, pursing his lips. He blows. Nothing happens though, no noise comes out.

“Just sorting a delivery!”

Eddie puts his lunch box in the tiny fridge, he gets his apron, popping it over his head, crossing the strings behind his back and tying a careful bow in front, twist, over, loop loop, pull.

Eddie goes through his morning routine, carefully watering and tidying and rotating the buckets. Some get topped up, but some get swapped out for fresh water, Eddie carefully scenting the flowers and the water as he goes, “more sugar, I think.”

“Sure honey, you do it,” Chrissy answers absently, putting all the new deliveries carefully into their buckets for Eddie to rearrange. “I’ll start on the orders for today in a minute, okay?”

“We will be fine out here,” Eddie replies, “Chrissy, this one needs the medicine!” Eddie carries the bucket out, his nose itchy and twitching. Eddie drains the water, swapping flowers out into a fresh bucket, scrubbing and rinsing the old one.

Chrissy tuts, "I said don't lift them, they're heavy!"

"Not so bad," Eddie tells her, but she's shaking her head at him. It's hard to get used to, sometimes Eddie forgets that the baby is there.

Chrissy comes to do the medicine for him, “how many drops?”

Eddie hums, pretending like he’s thinking. Chrissy always questions him if he answers too fast, “four?” he volunteers.

“Sounds good to me,” she adds a few drops of the chemicals to some fresh water, this bucket smelt a little musty, and Eddie knows it means something is growing in the water that shouldn’t be, so it’s Eddie’s job to make sure it gets tipped away and cleaned and the flowers all get a fresh bath.

But Chrissy won’t let him touch the chemicals any more; not since the baby.

Eddie sweeps up the dust and lost leaves, arranging the new buckets and all their little name and price signs. He pauses, trying to blow again. No noise. Eddie wets his lips, pursing them and trying again. Still nothing. He frowns, “Chrissy do you know how to whistle?”

“I know,” she calls from the back room, whistling a few wavering notes, “but I’m not very good.”

“Can you teach me?”

“I can try! Can Steve whistle?”

“I...yeah. He does a bit sometimes. He makes like a…” Eddie struggles to communicate the noise, “like a woo wooooooo noise?”

Chrissy immediately bursts out laughing, she looks happy though, when her head pops through the doorway, “Eddie that’s a wolf whistle. It means he...well, when does he normally do that?”

Eddie frowns, thinking, “not sure,” he goes to his knees to shift the front row of buckets along, “sometimes when I’m getting changed?”

“Uh hu,” she waggles her eyebrows.

Eddie knows what that means. It means she means something about sex. “Oh. Oh is it when he thinks I-”

Eddie struggles to articulate it for a second.

“It’s when he thinks you’re being extra hot, hun.”

“Yeah,” Eddie grins, “Stevie Love is always hot. If I learn how to whistle, I’ll have to do it all the time.”

Chrissy disappears back through the door to the back, cackling. “Don’t forget we’re closing early!” she calls once she’s stopped laughing.

“I know,” Eddie calls back absently, “car needs to go to the hos-pital.”

“It’s called a garage, Eddie!”

I know it. Garage.

Eddie checks the list he has in his head; Buckets and flowers and labels all neat. Floor tidy. He checks behind the register, quickly straightening everything, making sure the ribbons and twine and wrapping paper are all right. The pens are where they should be; two on top of the register drawer. The note cards are stacked, clean and neat and tidy, and the little clips to hold them. Business cards. Everything looks right.

Eddie pulls the blinds up, unlocks the door, and then flips the sign. The pink princess watch says he’s done it five minutes early, but still, the cheery little bell above the door tinkles, and Eddie smiles at their first customer.

Eddie waves to Chrissy as she pulls out of the driveway, watching as her car gets smaller and smaller as it travels away up the street. He hopes the garage can fix the strange squeaking noise. Chrissy can hear it, but it doesn’t hurt her the way it does Eddie.

Eddie waits until she’s all the way gone, turning, crunchy something makes a noise under his foot. A little card. There’s a blue eagle on it, and it has a red and white boarder. Eddie picks it up, turning it over; “they missed me. They have a parcel,” Eddie works it out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a card like this before.

It says it’s something for Stevie Love.

It says it’s at the post office. Eddie knows where that is, he’s walked past it before. Eddie frowns, thinking, he’s pretty sure it’s somewhere between the flower shop and the library. One of those streets.

It says he needs identification. And something with an address.

The drawer in the little table in the hall has loads of things with the house address on it. Bills. Stevie Love has to pay them, to keep on the water and the lights and the quiet thrumming humming noises of the power in the walls.

And maybe the nice people who take away the trash, but Eddie thinks that maybe that’s tax. Like the roads. And Hopper.

It’s been a long time since Stevie Love explained it.

Stevie Love isn’t home until after half four, Eddie checks his watch. He thinks he has time to walk there and back.

And it means Stevie Love won’t have to go out again, so that’s good.

Eddie considers, briefly, calling Stevie at work so he can collect it on his way home but...Eddie thinks maybe he needs the little Eagle card. And maybe the Bills.

Decided, Eddie heads back out, locking the door behind him.

Eddie scowls into the wind. He doesn’t like it. It makes things move sometimes, and produces funny noises in the house. Also you can’t see it, which just seems...not right. He knows there was wind in the before, because there must have been, but...he can’t remember it ever bothering him like it does now.

It’s also full of smells, some of them confusing and from far away. It makes it even harder to find the post office. A lot of buildings on this street, and the one over, look the same. It’s nothing like The Upside Down, where Eddie could follow scent, and the feel of vibrations under his hands would alert him to danger.

Eddie looks around, orienting himself, and he suddenly knows where he is, Family Video is right there. Robin.

Eddie’s pushing the door open without really having made the choice to even head that way, “Hi Robin.”

“Hey Eddie,” she stands from where she was leaning against the counter, “no Steve?”

Eddie shakes his head no. “He’s still at work.”

“Okay well...I kind of wanted to talk to you, anyway,” she goes on tip toe, peering around the store, double checking they’re alone. “So I’ve thought about it, and I know Steve will probably, like, insist it’s him, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s not a good idea,” Eddie agrees, nodding, unsure as to what they’re talking about. Things usually...work their way out though. Sometimes people have to talk a little more before Eddie figures it out.

“Good. And I have really thought about it, so I mean it, so we can tell Steve together.”

“Yes,” Eddie nods more, “tell Stevie what?”

“That it should be me. My toes.”

No, Eddie still doesn’t understand, he’s pretty sure, “your toes?”

Robin’s nodding, which means yes, “for the baby. Eddie, he can’t lose any more toes, I’m pretty sure you need them for like, balance. So, yeah. If the baby needs to eat a toe or two,” she takes a deep breath, “it’s going to be mine.”

Eddie wriggles his toes inside his boots. He’s pretty sure his toes might not be any good if their baby needs them. And Robin is probably right that Stevie Love shouldn’t lose any more toes. “Okay!”

“Okay, good. And don’t tell Chrissy, she thinks she’s argued me down to us giving one toe each, but her toes are like, really cute Eddie, it would be a literal crime.”

Eddie nods, back on steady ground. This he understands, “Stevie Love has cute toes too. The ones that are left, anyway. Oh! Do you know how to whistle?”

Eddie spots the big blue bird half way down the second street, right where Robin told him. It didn’t take too long. He likes the red stripes in the windows; the stars.

He licks his lips again, makes the shape like Robin showed him, but, still, no noise.

From the flag, Eddie knows the pattern is from the flag. He doesn’t like the flag at the moment though, where it is above the door, sticking out from the building. It makes a harsh snapping noise, and Eddie has to resist flinching.

The buzzer over the door makes a horrible noise too, the buzzing seeming to wait in Eddie’s ears for a little while afterwards. Eddie much prefers the sweet soft tinkle of the bell at the flower store.

Eddie looks around, they sell things here, like a normal store, but there’s also a desk with people waiting, so Eddie joins the back of the queue.

“Edwin Munson,” Eddie tells the lady behind the counter, producing the card and his drivers license and the folded together Bills, “I really like your bird button.”

The lady smiles at him, “it’s a broach. A peacock.”

“I’ve never seen a peacock. Not a real one. Only on the T.V.”

“You don’t get out much? Pretty sure they have them at the petting zoo.”

Eddie vaguely remembers Stevie mentioning the petting zoo, at Christmas, “do they have reindeer?”

“Yeah, two. I take my grand kids there sometimes, they love it.”

Eddie nods. Maybe Stevie Love will take me.

“So, this isn’t for you?”

“It’s not for me,” Eddie grins, excited to tell her, “it’s for my best friend Stevie, I wanted to be helpful and come get this for him.”

“So that means the name here is Steve Harrington,” the lady looks from the card to something else, “well that’s very thoughtful of you Mister Munson...”

Eddie leans up on tip toe, peering over the counter, “thank you ma’am.”

She smiles at him for that. Joyce says manners are important.

“I’m sorry to say though, I need to I.D of the person named on the parcel. I’m afraid you can’t collect for someone else. Here you are Mister Munson.”

The Bills, Eddie’s drivers license, and the little card get passed back to Eddie, “you need proper authorization, so either written consent or you need to be named on the re-delivery request. Sorry.”

Eddie feels sad that he can’t help Stevie Love. And that he’s walked in the wind for no reason.

“Huh. Thought I was the only Munson in town,” a gruff voice speaks next to Eddie. It’s a man, older than Stevie Love. Maybe even older than Hopper. “You new around here?”

Eddie perks up, meeting someone new, “yes! Very new!”

“Oh, where’d you blow in from?”

Eddie frowns, briefly concerned about the wind, but he thinks he understands, “where did I come from?” The man frowns but nods, “Finland!”

“Oh aren't you a little sweetheart,” the lady behind the counter tells Eddie, handing him a plastic wrapped sucker from a dish on the counter.

“Thank you! I like the green ones.”

The Man, the other Munson, holds the door open for Eddie as they head out onto the side walk, “no idea where my family name is from, to tell you the truth. Maybe we’re related,” the man shifts the brim of his cap up and down, chuckling, before offering his hand to Eddie to shake, “Wayne Munson, nice to meet you.”

“Eddie Munson,” Eddie grins, he doesn’t get to shake hands with new people very often, “nice to meet you too.”

“Plans for the rest of the day?” Wayne has a hat on, and he sort of lifts the front part and gives it a little wiggle before settling it again.

“Got to walk home again now. Stevie has the car for work.”

“Harrington, right?”

Eddie nods, “he’s going to be home soon.”

They start walking, Wayne must need to go the same way, “you don’t have your own car? It’s a little tough to get around here without.”

“I know, but, it’s expensive. And,” Eddie struggles, can’t say about the baby. Can’t say about the wedding. Can’t say about maybe needing to move out, “they cost money.”

“Sure, but you got a job, dont’cha?”

Wayne says, ‘don’t you?’ all funny, all smudged together. Eddie nods, “yes! I work at the flower shop with my friend Chrissy. I like it very much.”

“Right so...everyone should have their own things son, if they want them, you can afford it.”

Eddie shrugs again, not sure, “I’ll talk to Stevie,” Stevie says we mustn't tell lies, but he knows they need to save as much as they can, and Eddie doesn’t really need a car right now, Stevie takes him to work and Chrissy brings him home. And Stevie Love takes him to band practice on his way to basketball, “Stevie keeps all my money safe.”

Wayne stops walking, so Eddie does too. He does that thing again, with his hat, “he does, does he?”

Eddie nods, “Stevie is the best!”

“Right and...what about your family? Are you going to go home to visit or..?”

“Oh no. I live here now! I don’t have any family.”

Wayne does the hat thing again, “but you...have your passport right?” Wayne’s voice sounds different, but Eddie doesn’t know what it means. Wayne is frowning, and that...sometimes isn’t good.

“I have one, Stevie keeps it safe for me.”

Wayne makes a noise. “I...listen, kid...tell you what, lets go and get a coffee?” Wayne points to a diner across the street.

“Oh no, I’m not allowed coffee.”

Wayne’s eyes go bigger, and then he sighs even bigger than that. He mumbles, ‘holy shit’ very quietly, but Eddie’s pretty sure he wasn’t meant to hear. The wind blows again, and Wayne smells like dusty old cigarette smoke and a tiny bit like old sweat. “Okay, how about I get whatever you want to drink?”

Eddie perks up, “I really like milkshakes,” and the wind blows again, and Eddie would like to be inside.

“Okay son, whatever you want, on me.”

"Whatever I want? Do you know how to whistle?"

The diner is noisy, and full of smells. This place has the kind of milkshakes that are made from the ice cream, so you can pick any flavor. Eddie has mint choc chip.

Even though it’s noisy, Eddie can still pick out what Wayne is saying from all the way over here. The funny material of the bench is a little creaky under Eddie’s butt, and he wriggles side to side to make it creak and squeak more.

The lady behind the counter seems nice, and when Wayne begs use of their phone, she shrugs and says ‘sure hon,’ before pulling it out and resting it on the counter.

Eddie perks up when Wayne says ‘Hopper,’ and he wonders if he’s talking about the Hopper Eddie knows, who maybe a Grass Hopper, like from the lawn.

Eddie slurps on his drink, and Wayne says, 'I really think this kid is in trouble.'

Eddie wonders who is in trouble, maybe Eddie can help.

“Listen son, uhm, do you want a ride home?”

Eddie looks out the window, the stars and stripes across the street is still wriggling madly in the wind, “okay!”

“I just need to swing in somewhere on the way, is that okay?”

Eddie does up his seat belt. Safe. “Okay! Robin said I have to lick my lips and make a little doughnut."

"Yeah..." Wayne pulls away from the curb, driving along the street, "you kind of curl up your tongue and keep it to the back of your teeth."

Eddie tries again, but Wayne stops him almost right away, "don't blow so hard. Go softly."

Carefully. Gently.

Eddie tries again, and makes a small thready sound, almost starling himself, he looks over at Wayne, wide eyed.

"Now you're getting it," Wayne laughs.

Eddie presses his nose to the glass, he’s almost certain he’s never been here before, new place.

“You want to come in a minute?”

“Sure,” Eddie slides out of Wayne’s truck, following him in. There are some signs around the long low building, Eddie knows, ‘county,’ but he sounds out, 'pre-cinct' slowly in his head.

There’s a lot of smells, but Eddie picks out Hopper pretty much the same time he sees the sign for Police.

There are people through the double doors, and some sitting at the untidy desks, and Wayne is talking to someone, asking for Hopper. Eddie grins, he’s getting to see where Hopper works! He follows along after Wayne, and Hopper even has his name on a door, which is nice for him.

Wayne talks to Hopper, Wayne sort of holding the door almost all the way closed, so Eddie listens through the gap, “so you think this kid is being held against his will?”

“Yeah but...he might not know it because he’s kinda’...different.”

“He might not know he’s being held against his will?” Hopper says, very slowly, “look, Wayne-”

“You never know what those Harrington’s-”

“Harrington?” Hopper sighs, “Eddie, get in here!”

Wayne moves a step to the side, and for the first time ever, Eddie gets to see where Hopper works. It smells very strongly of cigarettes. “Hello Hopper,” Eddie waves.

“Don’t tell me you’re...involved in this somehow Hopper-”

Hoppers already pulling a little bottle of something dark colored out of a drawer, “I really, really, wish I wasn’t.”

“Hopper, I’m not above reporting you as well when I-”

Hopper pours two glasses, “Jesus Wayne sit down, Eddie close the door.”

Wayne is staring off across the street and, sort of, chewing on nothing. Sometimes he mutters something to himself.

“Hopper’s going to take me home,” Eddie finally tells him.

“Yeah. Okay.”

But Wayne doesn’t really move, “are you okay?”

“I...I mean.” He takes a deep breath, “kind of hard to be, when you find out something like this. Always knew there was something going on with that place. And when that kid went missing, that didn’t add up, neither. Russians under the mall…” Wayne shakes his head, muttering to himself.

Wayne looks...sad. Eddie can’t tell exactly, because he doesn’t know Wayne that well. But he doesn’t look like Chrissy did when they told her. Hopper left out a lot of stuff though, El’s mind powers, the toes, Eddie and Steve being engaged, some other stuff. Hopper said he’ll tell Wayne the rest the next time they go fishing.

“Do you...do you want to come to a pot luck, at the weekend?”

Wayne finally turns, frowning, “pot luck?”

“Yeah,” Eddie brightens, “Hopper’s coming, and Joyce, and all the kids. It’s at mine and Stevie’s, and it means you can meet everyone and...Stevie's really nice. You’ll see.”

“I...suppose I will.”

Eddie gives a little whistle.

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Girlssss

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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)

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afternoon nap (and you’re in love)

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EDDIE MUNSON & STEVE HARRINGTON 🤍

↳ STRANGER THINGS | 4.07 “Chapter Seven: The Massacre at Hawkins Lab”

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Every morning, there's this dog that breaks into Steve's backyard and tries to eat his tomatoes.

It’s a beautiful border collie; fur mostly black on its back and white on its chest and muzzle. Steve knows it’s not a stray because the dog wears a black leather collar, and it’s too friendly. The first time Steve caught it trying to eat his tomatoes, the dog came running towards him and tackled Steve down, licking his face and wagging its tail excitedly.

That was almost a month ago, and every single morning since then Steve finds the damn dog in his yard. He wouldn’t really care about it if the little asshole wasn’t destroying the vegetable garden Steve spent the past six months slaving away to build.

“Get the fuck off my vegetables,” he groans, as he pulls the dog away again. This time, he only lost some lettuce.

The dog barks, playfully, then jumps at Steve to try and lick his face, not really getting that Steve is not playing with him.

A few days later, Steve is getting dressed for work when he hears the commotion in his backyard. He finishes pulling on his shirt, then runs down the stairs, already knowing that he’s probably gonna be late if he has to fend yet again for the safety of his garden.

He was expecting to find the dog there of course, but he wasn’t expecting to find a man there too; a very hot man. What the hell!?

For a moment, neither of them say anything. The man, hands gripping the dog tightly by its collar, stares at Steve like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes are huge and his mouth is agape and he seems a second away from getting the hell out of there.

As for Steve, he’s too busy ogling the man’s bare arms, covered in tattoos, and the smooth skin of his neck and collarbones to think of anything to say.

The dog takes this opportunity to break free from the man’s grip; it dashes towards Steve and tackles him to the ground, all happy and friendly as he noses Steve’s face affectionately.

“Ozzy, get off him!” the stranger says, alarmed.

It takes them a few tries but the dog, Ozzy, finally understands that neither Steve nor the stranger is playing there and goes with its owner, even if with some whining complaints.

After profusely apologizing, the stranger introduces himself as Eddie Munson, the new neighbor down the street, and promises to pay for any damage Ozzy might have caused. Steve tells him that, unfortunately, the damage is too great for money to cover it all, but that he’d consider it even if Eddie gave him his number instead.

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“𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑰’𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏.” ❤️‍🩹

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One of my pieces for the @steddiecaz zine, based on The Seamstress by Eugene de Blaas

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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.

------

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Just posted a page filled with n/sfw poses on Patreon ❤️

[sofadofax]

Steve finally uses the backstage pass Dustin always offers, wearing a striped polo and his favourite faded jeans. Gareth sees him first, scoffs, and physically drags him to the green room, which is empty. No Eddie. Which is disappointing. It's been hard to catch him this year, with the tour. Steve doesn't like that part of the band's success, though he'll never admit it.

Gareth shoves a cut off tee at him. He stares at it, confused. Gareth rolls his eyes.

“You can't be back here dressed like that. Someone's going to, like, beat you up or something. Let's go,” he says impatiently.

So he changes shirts, annoyed but resigned.

Gareth produces makeup from his pocket, repeatedly pokes Steve in the eyes as he tells him to hold still. He protests when Gareth reaches up to his hair, but his glare turns murderous and Steve relents with a sigh and a muttered swear word.

“Tada,” he says eventually, tone bored. “He's backstage.”

When he stands, Steve catches a glimpse of himself on the chipped and dirty mirror and…oh. Okay. He looks…Well. He looks hot, if he's honest with himself.

His eyes are lined in coal black, smudged artfully. The tee reveals his belly button, the ridiculous belt buckle Robin had found at the thrift store, the curve of his hips above his belt. His hair is tousled beyond repair, but he doesn't hate it.

So, back in the wings of the stage, he's actually kind of excited. That Eddie will see him like this. In his world. Steve's heart beats faster, picturing that crinkled smile widening impossibly further. Eddie, who will drop an arm across his shoulders, or shake him, or grab his cheeks (Steve's personal favourite) to turn his face this way and that.

Man, he should just tell Eddie.

Eddie who is suddenly walking toward him with an expression of…

Oh. An expression of abject horror tinged with fury, actually.

Steve has wildly miscalculated. He'll leave. Immediately. Eddie does not want him here. Which, obviously; he doesn't want to be reminded of Hawkins, of the Upside-Down, of high school, of the jock he'd hated. Steve is mid crash out when Eddie reaches him.

“Who did this to you?!” he demands. “They ruined you!”

Steve wants to explain, but then. But then, Eddie's hands are in Steve's hair, trying to tame it back to normal. It won't work, obviously, but Eddie's tongue is between his teeth as he concentrates on the task, and Steve can't breathe enough to speak.

It's too much; it's dark and it's loud and the audience is restless, but it all disappears because Eddie's long, ringed fingers – which have been haunting his dreams, his waking days – are tugging on the roots of his hair and he just can't anymore. Steve breaks.

He tugs on Eddie's stupid denim vest until their chests bump, and kisses him. It only takes a moment for Eddie to figure out what is happening, and then he's kissing back. And his hands are far more intentionally holding onto hair, making Steve's scalp tingle and scream with sensation.

“Finally,” Dustin shouts from somewhere to their right. He tugs Eddie's elbow, shoving a guitar into his hands, grumbling. “Go. Play. I'll make sure he stays here. You two can figure your shit out later.”

And even though Eddie sputters for a second, Steve feels his face melt blissful, smug victory, and when Eddie notices, his grin returns, twitches up into a crooked fondness.

“Fine. Fix his hair,” he demands, pointing at them as he walks backwards. “But the eyeliner stays.”

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