steddiebingo

[steddiebingo]

Purr-fect Moments at the Omega Café, part 1 🐈‍⬛

It’s not easy trying to run a business when you’re an Omega, and Steve sometimes struggles. He owns an Omega kitty café—like a cat café, apart from customers pay for an hour of snuggles with a ‘comfort’ Omega with their coffee.

Enter Alpha pastry-supplier Eddie, who turns out to be in need of some serious kitty comforts. He also might just make the perfect guard-dog for a group of undefended Omegas… If only Steve could stop longing to snuggle Eddie for all the ‘wrong’ reasons.

(This is not set in the same universe as Love and other Catastrophes at the Omega Café.  I wanted to write more Omega kitty café fic, but didn’t want to disrupt the arc of the previous fic… so I guess it’s an AU of that fic/set up.) Should be done in 2-3 chapters (ish!). For @steddiebingo fill, ‘Chastity.’

Rating: M; Words; 4868; Tags: o!Steve, a!Eddie, barista steve, comfort Omega steve, baker eddie, friends to lovers, mutual pining, friends/idiots to lovers, angst and emotional hurt/comfort, with a happy ever after. CW: mention of heats and sex toys, past unhappiness (steve’s evil dad, and losing his beloved mom) sick character (tho they're not going to die... did I mention the happy ever after?)Read here on AO3

🐈‍⬛💚🐈‍⬛💚🐈‍⬛💚🐈‍⬛💚

Chapter 1

Steve’s Monday morning already sucked worse than usual.

He was straight off a sleepless night with end-of-heat cramps, and was rushing around like a crazy thing trying to get the café ready for opening, when…

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

He jumped an inch in the air. The coffee beans he’d been pouring into the grinder scattered and rolled off in every direction across the café floor.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, BANG!

At the repeated knocking on the front door, Steve nearly yelled, Will you get lost already? He squealed in exasperation, and in slight fear, too. They’d had quite a few ‘problem’ customers lately. Always a risk for an Omega trying to run a business, especially one like ‘Purr-fect Moments.’

“Sorry, we’re not open yet,” he called, voice shaky.

“Munson’s Munchies? Got your pastries!”

Steve froze for a sec, before hurrying to let the delivery guy in. That shout wasn’t Wayne Munson. However, the white van Steve now spied between the slats of the blinds was Wayne’s. The smells drifting from it were, if anything, even better than the usual levels of ‘Munson’s Munchies’ yum. He unchained the door, opened it a crack… and suppressed another squeal.

The good-looking guy with his arms stacked with three cardboard trays of sumptuous baked goods was an Alpha. The spike in Steve’s blood screamed it, before he’d even latched onto the Alpha fangs revealed by the newcomer’s slowly spreading grin.

“You wear those things all the time, Honey?” asked the Alpha.

“Huh?” Steve blinked at him.

“The cat ears?”

“Right! They’re, uh, part of the gig. I style my hair around them first thing, so they’re kinda sprayed into place. I use a lot of product so…” Steve realized he was babbling on like an idiot.

Yes, he spent most of his life wearing a cutesy set of kitty ears. This was an Omega comfort-kitty café, after all. The menu listed the price for a calming hour snuggling a gently purring Omega, alongside those for the cinnamon buns and mochas.

“I don’t wear them in bed, if that’s what you mean,” he mumbled, then mentally facepalmed as hard as he blushed.

Wtf, Harrington?

The Alpha was still grinning. Dopily. His long dark hair was scraped back into a messy bun that was, like the rest of him, doing crazy things to Steve’s brain chemistry.

“Where d’ya want the pastries, Sweetheart?”

“Oh, anywhere.” Steve stepped aside, chewing his lip nervously. Alarm bells chimed faintly—he’d just let a strange Alpha into his café. On the other hand, Wayne had mentioned getting in help. If Wayne trusted this dude, so did Steve, right? “Mind the mess,” he said, as the Alpha literally crunched his way across the café floor. “There are spilled coffee beans. Like, everywhere.”

“Monday mornings, huh? Not a fan either. I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Oh, uh… I’m… uh… Steve.” Steve nibbled and wetted his lips.

“Nice little place you got here, Steve. You the boss?”

“Yeah.” Woah! Few Alphas made that assumption. “My mom set it up, and now… yeah, I do the best I can. With a lot of help from my friends.”

Eddie placed the pastries on the counter and flashed another sizzling grin. Steve squirmed on his toes, feeling like he was blushing everywhere.

Eddie was scary.

The design on his t-shirt was, frankly, horrifying, covered in what looked like blood-spatter and slimy goo. He’d gotten tattoos of bats and skeletons and other terrifying beasties flapping and creeping up his arms.

And Steve was as hungry to lick Eddie’s dimples and ridiculously pillowy lips as he was for the pastries, which was insane. 

Steve didn’t do Alphas.

He didn’t want one, or as a rule, trust them. Besides, that smell sending him weak at the knees must be the pastries. The air-fresheners and blocker-chemicals in the café neutralised most sexual pheromones, especially punchy Alpha ones, and Steve badly craved a sugar rush.

“Anything else I can do to help?” asked Eddie, sidestepping a dainty afternoon tea table, as he headed back across the café.

“No, thanks. I’m good.” Steve snapped his chin up. He’d been fixating on the snug fit of Eddie’s ripped jeans, particularly around the crotch. “Um, Wayne always delivers to the other entrance. Will he be back tomorrow?”

“’Fraid not.” The Alpha sighed toward a fluffy purple rug, and his face twitched strangely. “He’s in hospital.”

Steve’s stomach dropped like a stone. “Shit! Is it serious?”

“Honestly, Honey? I dunno.”

Wayne. In hospital. Possibly seriously ill. Steve stared through Eddie like the Alpha had vanished. No, not Wayne. Not kind, ever-supportive Wayne…

“Christ, Steve, you look like you need a hug.”

Steve barely took in the words. His knees wobbled as dramatically as his lower lip. The Alpha approached, and Steve hunched in on himself, braced for… something. Instead, Eddie opened his arms, a respectful foot away, and the pull proved magnetic. Steve tumbled forward, strong Alpha arms banded around him, and he buried his face in Eddie’s t-shirt. His arms hugged around the Alpha’s neck like a crazy little spider-monkey scared of falling out of its tree.

“Hey, it’s all right, Sweetheart.” Eddie rubbed circles between Steve’s shoulder-blades. “Sorry I scared you. Listen, this is Wayne, huh? He’d be cut up if I told him you were upset, and… he’s gonna pull through, okay?”

Steve sniffled into Eddie’s solid chest. “I’m sorry. It was… kinda the last straw today. Running a business as an Omega is hard. Most people try to con you, trip you up, but n-not Wayne. N-never Wayne. He’s the best, and… and, I don’t feel so great this morning… and th-the m-mess, and… Oh crap, I’m making this all about me. I’m such an unforgivable moron.”

“Hush, you’re good.” Eddie patiently soothed and rocked him, while Steve whimpered, and his inner voice sniped, What the hell are you doing snivelling all over a stranger, and an Alpha one at that? “You know, you’re my last delivery. I really can stay and help sweep up those beans. What d’ya say, Kitty-cat?”

“Huh?”

Steve peeped up through the blur of his lashes. Eddie’s eyes were chocolate-cinnamon whirlpools that seemed to suck him in.

Kind eyes. Not something he ever expected in an Alpha. They were a little like Wayne’s.

“Steve? You want me to stay and help?”

Steve nodded vacantly. While his heart still bled for Wayne, the rest of his ditzy O-head senses were going crazy for pastries again. He inhaled a fruity hint of blueberry, mingled with still-warm all-butter pastry and bitter dark chocolate, apart from…

He plastered his wet face against the Alpha’s throat, snuffling and rooting around.

Oooooooh, that makes sense!

The irresistible smell was not the muffins, nor even the cacao-and-honey swirls. The most sumptuous threads of fresh bakery goods radiated from Eddie’s scent gland.

Steve wallowed in it, all but chewed on it, while Eddie’s delicious musk fizzed and frothed to every corner of his lungs. Then a laugh rumbled from the Alpha’s chest: “You scenting me there, Kitty?”

“Shit!” Steve jumped away, sending a chair toppling, and sweeping his hair from his clammy brow. “Oh my God, I honestly don’t know what came over me. Christ! I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He straightened the chair, checked his kitty ears hadn’t been unsettled then started pacing, arms wrapped tight around himself. He wished he could burrow beneath a fuzzy beanbag and hide. “I’ve been a Comfort Omega since I was 19! I’m on major hormone suppressants! I’ve never, ever, done anything inappropriate like that, and… and… I drooled on your t-shirt!”

“Relax, Steve.” Eddie’s squeeze of his shoulder stilled his feet and calmed him slightly. “Look, I reckon we both needed a hug this morning, and the hospital won’t let me see my uncle till noon. I can hang around, or do I give you some space?”

Wayne was Eddie’s uncle?

Steve gawked up at him, on the verge of losing his shit again. He’d been sobbing over Wayne, when it must be so much worse for Eddie. Whose kind, reassuring gaze captured Steve’s and held it. Another gentle squeeze, and Steve was okay again.

Steve didn’t think. He just said it: “Please can you stay, Alpha?”

“Sure thing, little Omega.”

Steve giggled.  He’d never called anyone Alpha before. Freaky. A slip of the tongue, right?

Yeah, right, Harrington. You never scented anybody before either, not like that…

Fortunately, the next half hour proved too busy and fun for Steve to dwell on anything. Eddie swept up the beans, Steve grinded more, then they both swore at the coffee machine till it cranked into life. After that, Eddie arranged the pastries, while Steve prepped the sandwich fillings and found himself telling Eddie how he—aged twenty-two— wound up being one of the few Omegas in the city to run his own business.

It'd all started when his mom, also an Omega, ran away from his Alpha dad when Steve was still a little kid. She’d heard that lone Omegas could get along easily in the city.

She’d heard wrong. It was slightly less tough than in a province where Omegas were property.

But easy? Nah.

“Without ID or papers that would lead us back to my dad, it was either sex work or a comfort Omega. Obviously, she took the latter. The pay was a joke. With Omegas, everyone gives the lowest wages they can get away with… tho’ Momma was smart. She scrimped and saved and eventually set up this place. ‘Course, she didn’t want me working here. I was supposed to go to college, but let’s just say, I wasn’t as smart as her and then she… passed… so…”

Crap.

Steve’s lip was wobbling again. By this time, they were drinking extra-shot lattes, and stuffing caramel brownies, and he found he couldn’t look Eddie in the eye.

Eddie was an Alpha.

Steve had basically been whining his head off about what douchebags most Alphas were.

“Wow,” said Eddie, placing down his drink. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Steve almost snapped it. “Honestly, I’m proud we survived, I guess. It’s been tough without her. I mean, for an Omega, she was super-well respected.” Okay, and he was gonna have to move on from this topic, or the tears would be unstoppable. “I’m getting by. There’s three of us Omegas. Carol, Chrissy and I take turns on kitty and barista duties. My friend Robin—she’s a Beta—does the accounts, and Wayne’s always been a rock.”

“For you and me both, Sweetheart.”

 Eddie sighed sadly, and Steve desperately wanted to offer him an hour of free kitty cuddles. He’d do his bestest to pump out all the comfort vibes his little Omega self could conjure. After he scented Eddie, tho’, dare he trust himself?

Jesus Christ! It wasn’t like Steve didn’t know about that magnetic pull between Alphas and Omegas. Yeah, he’d felt a fizzle of attraction to the occasional Alpha, sometimes even that delicious melty feeling, deep inside. Never wanted to act on it, tho’. He was used to bodily contact, used to keeping sexual feelings out of it without much difficulty… but Eddie?

Nope, Steve couldn’t lose control like that again.

Conversation, fortunately, flowed on easy enough. As they finished their drinks, Eddie explained how Wayne had pretty much raised him. Eddie had returned to keep Wayne’s ‘Munson’s Munchie’s’ afloat when Wayne got sick, following several years travelling around and gigging with his band.

“Wow! What’s your group called?” asked Steve.

“Corroded Coffin.” Eddie beamed toothily, pointing to his t-shirt.

“Oh, that’s what it says!” Steve squinted at the stylised text between the mess. “Couldn’t tell. Too much slime and blood spatter.”

Eddie hooted. Steve quailed at his own cheek. He was bantering with an Alpha like they were his friend or something and they’d somehow gravitated pretty close on the sofa. The heat and faint scent rolling off Eddie was tantalizing.

And Steve was dying, simply dying, to bury his face once more in that demonic blood-spatter shirt.

“Listen,” said Eddie. “I really gotta go, but—"

“Oh, Diiiingus! Where aaaaaare yooooou?” Robin’s voice sliced between them. Steve squeaked, and Eddie looked up sharply.  “Oh! Who’s your friend?”

Robin had slipped in the backdoor, followed by Chrissy, and Carol’s Beta boyfriend, Tommy. He hung around being annoying when he’d gotten nothing better to do. Even, so it seemed, when Carol didn’t start her shift till noon.

“This is, um… erm… Eddie,” said Steve. Christ! Once more, he fluffed the simplest question ever. His friends standing there gawking like he’d been discovered giving the Alpha a full-on kitty-boy lap-dance didn’t help. And that was not an image he needed swimming around his airhead little skull, because it was so NOT HIM and yet… “He’s Wayne’s nephew,” Steve stuttered out.

“Cool,” said Robin. “Nice to meet you. You do realize it’s ten past ten, Steve? You got customers waiting out front.”

Steve shot off to flip over the ‘closed’ sign and let them in. The second dude through the door was a regular, Dan, a hot-shot banking exec who came for kitty cuddles to de-stress. He looked cranky, and for a second Steve was scared he’d get his head chewed off about the late opening.

Then Dan saw Eddie. Standing beside Steve, his folded arms displaying the ‘sweet tatties’ he’d started telling Steve the history of. His grin revealed those Alpha fangs, which gleamed in the morning sun like a crocodile’s.

The banker wandered off to wait for his tiramisu iced-whipped latte, and kitty. Tommy stuffed a chocolate-and-peppermint cookie he totally hadn’t paid for in his mouth.

“See you tomorrow?” asked Eddie.

“Sure!” chirped Steve, forgetting even to snap at Tommy. “Delivery back entrance is down the passageway to the right. You can, erm, come to the front if you’d rather, tho’.”

“Back is fine.”

Eddie nodded his goodbye, and, after Steve called, “Give my love to Wayne,” he headed off.

“Bet you’d let that dude use any passage.” Tommy reached for another pastry. Steve slapped his wrist. “Ow! Fuuuuck.”

“He seems nice, Steve.” Robin waggled her brows. “Sure keeps the customers in their playpens. Gonna be keeping him around?”

“Why? As a bodyguard?” Steve harrumphed. For the first time in a while, he realized how tired and fading heat-pangy he still was. “Jesus, I don’t need an Alpha to defend my chastity or something! We’ve always been fine without.”

“All right. Don’t get your panties in a twist, Shit-bird.”

Steve glared at her, tho’ not with any real intent. To be honest, he knew she was only looking out for him. There’d always been the odd troublesome customer, who figured you could touch a comfort Omega anywhere you chose. It had happened from time-to-time when his momma had been in charge. Since ‘little Stevie’ took over? Yeah, it’d got worse, and lately, some guy, Jason, had booked waaaay too many snuggle sessions with Chrissy than Steve was happy with.

He was an Alpha, and while he’d not broken any of the café rules barring intimate petting, he was pretty intense. They all felt on edge around him. Even Carol had agreed that Steve had been right not to surrender to her suggestion that they wore velvet kitty collars with jingly bells. He feared even the ears gave the wrong idea sometimes, tho’ they all agreed it helped get them ‘in character.’ Anyhow, most of the customers doted on them in more-or-less the right way and were fine with the rules.

There was no sign of Jason this morning. So that was good. Robin and Tommy left for their jobs elsewhere, and Steve knuckled down to make drinks. Then Chrissy switched onto the barista machine, and Steve moved onto kitty duties.

He laid his head on a pillow in a young Beta woman’s lap and let himself be petted. Her vibes were totally miserable. His chest flooded with sympathy, and he purred his head off, hoping he offered her a teeny moment of comfort. She seemed to relax a bit, twiddling his ears and stroking the soft fleecy fabric of his not-too-tight fitting clothes.

Steve took some pride in a job well done.

Trouble was, he couldn’t help dreaming about doing this for Eddie. Scratch that. He wanted to scent Eddie again and bask in that fresh pastry yumminess so damn much.

Then he silently scolded himself, because that wasn’t what being a comfort Omega was about, and what would his momma say, and… dammit, no! He wasn’t into Eddie like that, not really.

By the time Eddie arrived the next morning, Steve had everything set up and ready. The coffee machine was primed to go, the rugs were crumb free, and the floor shone immaculately. Steve had woken at five, buzzing with nervous excitement, and he’d figured he might as well get up and get on. They had a whole hour for bubble tea and chatting, and Tommy and Carol joined them at the end, which both frustrated then emboldened Steve.

“Are you going to see Wayne?” asked Steve, when Eddie hauled himself up from a beanbag to leave. Eddie nodded. “How about passing this on?”

He curled his arms around Eddie, and rested his cheek, chastely, beneath Eddie’s shoulder. A purr exploded, completely impromptu. Eddie answered it with a deep rumbling growl. He hugged Steve tight, and a gust of Alpha musk turned Steve wibbly and… Ugh, was that a trickle of slick in his panties?

Don’t scent him, Harrington! This is a comfort hug, remember? Prove you can control yourself, that yesterday was just a one-off blip at the end of your heat…

As if on cue, he detected a bitter note of sadness mingling with Eddie’s bakery yum, and it pulled Steve back from the brink. Eddie released him.

“I’ll pass it on,” said Eddie, kinda misty. “Uh, your kitty ears are wonky.”

Yeah, Steve had styled his hair in a hurry and had skimped on product. He did everything in a hurry to have more time with Eddie.

“Oh, thanks. Um… Your hair is sort of falling out of its bun. May I?”

“Only if I can, Kitty-cat.” Eddie straightened Steve’s cat ears. Steve reached to hook a few of Eddie’s stray tresses back into place. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath till Eddie had gone and he released it in a rush, flopping back, dizzy, into an extra-bouncy armchair.

Over the next few days, they fell into a little routine. Steve couldn’t help thinking that Eddie was also getting up even earlier than usual to get baking, perhaps speeding through his previous deliveries. Either way, they somehow managed to get more and more time together, mainlining caffeine, and talking about life and shit.

Steve started to bring a change of panties to work, too. Yes, he responded to Eddie far too strongly. He was gonna have to deal and hopefully it would pass. And yes, one night, he was so stupidly wet, aching so bad inside, that he got out his chunkiest heat toy then whispered Eddie’s name as he clenched around the vibrating plastic.

And yes, yes, OH YES! He was insane about Eddie Munson. He had the biggest crush of his ditzy little O-head life. He stuffed so many pastries failing to recreate the ‘high’ from sniffing Eddie, he was surprised he could still fit his favorite teeny shorts.

But Steve Harrington didn’t do Alphas, and Eddie? Perhaps his skin tingled when he touched Steve, like Steve’s did when Eddie as much as brushed his hand. The warmth in Eddie’s eyes maybe whispered of more than friendship. Maybe. If Eddie wanted anything more, he didn’t say.

Besides, Steve had never even been friends with an Alpha before. This was an epic learning curve already.

So, Steve battled his unwanted impulses, popped extra suppressant pills, and stuck to his usual lines during their chats: “You know, after seeing my mom and dad together, I knew I didn’t wanna get married. Obviously, my father was a grade-A jerk who spent his entire life shouting, and I’ll never say never and all. Truth is, I’m simply too busy running the café for courting.”

“I hear ya,” said Eddie, between slurps of his strawberry-fudge mocha. “You’re Momma Kitty now. Got your little brood to take care of.”

“I guess,” said Steve, suddenly flat. In the past, he’d always been surprised and happy when Alphas listened to him at all, let alone took his modest business ambitions seriously.

Not this time, apparently. Eddie was spoiling him.

“Gotta admit,” said Eddie, “never really done dating either. Played the field on the road, fooled around a ton, and now—”

“Too freakin’ busy, huh?” squeaked Steve. “Courting not for you?”

“Guess not.” Eddie blasted out the words like a dragon puffing smoke, then dashed away his cream moustache with another huff.

Steve adored having Eddie around, tho’. As a friend. The Alpha started dropping in at the end of the day, too, for an old-school ice slushie and a chat. Once the café had closed, and Steve was cleaning up, he even let Eddie play ‘Corroded Coffin’ tracks through the sound system.

The songs were shouty and very loud, the lyrics as blood-drenched as Eddie’s t-shirts. Everything Steve hated. Apart from he didn’t hate Eddie’s songs as much as he expected. He literally adored Eddie’s raspy voice, which made the pit of his stomach stir, hot and liquidy.

“Thought you said you didn’t do love songs?” teased Steve, picking out a lyric about a heart being scraped out with ‘burning devil love-claws.’

 “This is about as mellow and soft rock as we get,” conceded Eddie. “Hey, you gonna let me slip it on your café playlist?” Steve almost tripped over his bucket. “A little respite from the Enya hell-loop?”

“Jesus, Eddie, do you want to slay my customers?”

Eddie pouted. Wow. Since when could Alphas look cute? “Only in an ice-cool ax-man way.”

“Still a ‘no,’ Eddie.” Steve giggled his head off.

The next day, Eddie texted to say he was running late, having spent extra time at the hospital with Wayne. He still proved a lifesaver, after Jason got Chrissy trapped beneath his ‘petting’ hands in his lap.

“C’mon, Darlin’.” Jason leaned over the obviously uncomfortable ‘kitty,’ deaf to Steve’s tapping toe and increasingly panicked reminders that they were already ten past closing. “We don’t have to end this here. Please let me buy you din—”

Eddie walked in. Somehow, angry Alpha vibes cut through all the chemical blockers.

Or maybe it was Eddie’s guttural growl, bared fangs, and red-hot-pokers glare. Jason snarled back, getting up, shoulders squaring. Eddie casually smacked his be-ringed fist into his palm, and Jason scuttled off with his tail between his legs.

“I catch you within a mile of this place, I’ll gut you!” roared Eddie, which Steve hadn’t expected and Eddie’s subsequent foul-mouthed tirade smothered both Steve and Chrissy’s squeals.

Seeing Eddie shouting was shocking and terrifying.

On this occasion, Steve was hardly gonna complain.

After cuddling Chrissy calm again, and calling Robin to pick her up, Steve hugged his thanks to Eddie, hugged him so hard. “Hey, you’re shaking, Steve,” said Eddie.

“I’m good.” Steve smiled tremulously up at Eddie, trying to convince himself as much as anything. “Honestly!”

It screwed him up that he couldn’t defend his kitties. He’d finally twigged that was the reason Robin and Tommy hung around so much. Obviously, Eddie felt similarly protective.

He tried to cling to the upside. He was really, really lucky to have such good friends.

And seeing Eddie going all, well, Alpha like that?

That night, after Steve had calmed down, he got out his sex toys again. He dreamed about what it might really be like for Eddie to steal away his precious chastity.

The next Monday morning, Steve arrived at the cafe extra early. He wanted to perfect a new choc-orange mocha that he figured Eddie would enjoy. At half past nine, tho’, he was sitting on the sofa, hunched in on himself, scolding himself bitterly over how badly he wanted to cry.

No pastries. No Eddie. No message on his cell to say Eddie would be late. At ten to ten, Chrissy arrived with Carol: “Just call him, idiot! He might be your boyfriend. He’s also our supplier. I don’t wanna have to explain to whiny customers where their goddamn almond croissants are!”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Steve protested. The same instant Eddie bustled in, arms stacked with his usual wares.

“Thank God!” squealed Carol.

Steve felt sick. Not only because of what he’d just yelled.

The scent had hit before he’d even absorbed Eddie’s face, pale, unshaven and hangdog. Distress. Eddie oozed distress and, the instant the pastries were offloaded, Steve flung his arms around the Alpha. He nestled his head against Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie sunk his cheek to Steve’s hair.

“Oh, Eddie,” he whispered, lips ghosting against Eddie’s skin as he peeped up: “What’s wrong? Is it bad?”

“Wayne’s okay,” breathed Eddie, while the others bustled quietly around them. “They’ve found out what’s wrong with him. It’s his blood. Some rare condition—can’t even remember the darn name. They’re giving him a transfusion this morning. After that, it’s gonna be hard… The doctors say he’ll be okay. Gonna be hard, more transfusions, but… it’s okay. He should pull through.”

Steve let this percolate, fingers twisting in Eddie’s shirt, his fast-thrumming pulse falling into rhythm with Eddie’s. He wanted to purr for Eddie. He couldn’t. Not yet. He was too shocked himself, trembling pretty damn hard.

So, he realized, was Eddie. Huh? Alpha’s tremble too?

“Christ, Steve,” breathed Eddie, “when the doctor called, for a moment I feared the worst.” They held each other, swaying gently. “I thought I was gonna loose him. That I might already have lost him. The bottom fell outta my world, and… Still getting over that, I guess.”

“You wanna stay?” asked Steve, voice so tiny he was surprised Eddie heard, let alone answered so fast.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll, you know, find a corner alone and—”

“No way! I’m gonna take care of you,” said Steve, and a glance at Chrissy, who answered with a firm nod, told him his duties would be covered. It should be quiet, anyway.

He peeped up to see Eddie smirk at his bossiness and it was permission enough.

Eddie was in need of some serious comfort kitty action.

Steve took Eddie’s hand, led him over to their cosiest sofa in their cosiest nook, and pressed him down into it. He then clambered on besides, cuddled his arms loosely around Eddie’s neck and snuggled up tight against his side.

Steve didn’t bother to put a cushion on Eddie’s lap, and he crept his knee up into it, deepening the full-body hug. Attracted as he was to Eddie, he knew he’d have no problem keeping this chaste after what Eddie had just been through. Steve liked helping strangers this way, and he sure as heck lived to help friends in need. This was everything his momma had cherished about being a ‘comfort’ Omega. Everything it ought to be about—gifting that moment of calm and hope in a chaotic, scary, often horrible world.

Steve began to stroke lightly at the hair at Eddie’s nape, where those strands tumbled out of his bun. Granted, he wouldn’t do that for an ordinary customer. Still, he knew how soothing it could be.

“You okay with this?” he asked.

“More than okay,” murmured Eddie, his tightly-wound body palpably melting a little. Soon, the Alpha glided his fingers into Steve’s hair, weaving and petting around the kitty ears. Steve began pumping out comfort purrs—and, with them, comfort pheromones—like both their lives depended on it.

Soon, he found himself clambered halfway into Eddie’s lap, sprawled almost on top of him.

“This okay?” whispered Steve.

“Hell yeah, Kitty-cat,” said Eddie, arms closing around Steve to hold him into place, and it felt soooo goooooood. Being supported like this. Firmly yet tenderly cuddled and warmly cocooned. Dammit, Eddie was making Steve so profoundly relaxed, feeling safer than he’d ever known. In the lap of an Alpha, after everything he’d been through as a kid. It was nuts.

Steve was supposed to be the one providing a service here. The way this snuggle was actually happening, both of them giving and taking, felt way more perfect than it should, really.

Steve’s nose wandered close to Eddie’s scent-gland. Eddie’s musk wasn’t all pastries, Steve had learned that of late. The low notes weren’t all dark chocolate. They could be earthy and dewy-fresh, with a spiky metallic tang, almost like blood, and… Whoops. Steve jerked his face away, before he got drunk on it.

Then, the bombshell: “Steve, I’m possibly breaking your rules with this question, and I’m sorry. Feel free to kick me out of your fine establishment right away, buuuuut… You fancy hanging out together later? I mean, somewhere else?”

Steve was nodding madly in Eddie’s face before his brain had the slightest chance to catch up. “Yes!” he squeaked, “Yes! I’d really, really like that a lot.”

no pressure tag @wheneverfeasible 💕💕💕💕💕 if anyone else wants tagging, pls let me know or follow this tag for the series #steddie omega cat cafe

my steddie fic on AO3 💕💕💕💕💕

[steddiebingo]

Round 2 Steddie Bingo Promptfill

@steddiebingo

Rated: T

Prompt: Home

WC: 3168

Ao3 link: here!!!

Tags: Getting Together, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Angst

———————

“Fine!”

Steve strutted off, busted face and all, rushing up the garishly pristine stairs of his—well his parent’s home—ready to get the fuck out of here.

It was due time anyway. He was fed up with not just all the nagging, but the general bad demeanour, the demeaning words, the not-even-being-here but making him anxious all the same. And even when his parents were home, the few minutes they used up of their so-called precious time on him were all wasted on awful criticisms, never ever any words that resembled even a sliver of love and affection.

He slammed open the door to his room, the room that was no longer his as of this moment. Even before this, the room was never truly his. It was a facsimile of a personality slathered onto the walls, the shelves and the god awful patterned curtains.

Everything in there wasn’t Steve and it never was, not even representing Steve back in the days where he was a little standoffish asshole to the masses in Hawkins High.

It was more akin to a furniture store’s showrooms, everything too polished and basic, seeming like an average teenage boy's room but with just a hint of something missing.

It was manufactured—fake, to put it simply.

Just like he was.

Though he’d changed, and he heavily respected his own efforts trying to get away from the expectation of his parents, of all the people around him.

Steve mainly respected Nancy, for giving him the big push to not only recognise the assholery beside him, but to take a stand and leave despite the stomach-turning fear born in his childhood years that leaving his friends and no longer following the status quo would make him an outcast.

Besides, he liked outcasts anyway.

The best people he knew were all outcasts who’d be sneered at by the likes of Tommy and Carol, and his parents.

He sometimes missed Tommy and Carol, the sensation felt as if he was missing a vital part of himself, but he recognised that as the years went on, all three of them became twisted individuals filled with underlying hate, no longer the innocent kids they were back in elementary school.

And so he said goodbye to them both, in a fashion very similar to this very

moment, with a sneer plastered on his face and a bruising eye right above it.

Steve’s suitcase was grabbed from right under his bed, half-filled already, what with him having a feeling in the back of his head that something like this would happen sooner or later, and it had.

He still had some stuff to pack up before he was ready to leave his parent’s and despite detesting this place and his parents way of treating him, his stomach curled up with an emotion he could discern to be regret, love, and a form of wanting—wanting his parents attention, wanting them to actually care for their son like all the parents did on the television shows he’d watch as kid, all alone, while his parents were travelling.

He opened up the drawers beside his desk, shoving in all the polos and jeans stuffed in there, messily throwing them in, not caring to keep anything clean like he used to.

His parents were no longer keeping up the pretence of caring for him, so why would he follow their expectations to keep everything prim and proper?

Steve could hear his father, the asshole, shouting downstairs, likely fighting with his mother, who, for all her faults did care for Steve partly and was seen as too ‘lax on the boy’ by good ol’ Richard Harrington II.

He promptly sped up.

The clothes were all in, even his old school varsity jackets were thrown atop everything, but Steve felt like he should have something more.

Was this really all he had?

There was nothing personal that screamed Steve Harrington.

Everything only looked like a typical jock’s room and his closet looked like the average Sears’ catalogue, nothing was solely him.

There were no personalised pictures framed, no loving family or friends behind the glass panes of a picture frame, no personal gifts spread out on his desk, absolutely nothing to note.

Actually, now that he looked, Steve found a few things to note.

Beside his desk lamp was a walkie-talkie, courtesy of Dustin and the rest of the nerds, after they made a whole big deal, instating him into their little gang, making him officially a member of the ‘Upside-Down Crew’ even though he technically was a part of that the year before.

He took that into his hands, smiling at the memory, before adding it to the growing pile of items in his old school backpack, not zipping it up yet.

Steve wasn’t only preparing for this inevitable day of getting kicked out by his parents with just a half-filled suitcase, but monetarily as well.

For every shift of work he’d taken since he was 16 with his small summer lifeguard gig upon being told to ‘be a man’ and get a job by his father, he, even with his little finance and general math skill, knew he had to keep some savings in case of an any emergencies and just to prepare for what life could throw at him.

For every eight-hour shift, he squirrelled away one hour's worth of earnings, knowing that with the privilege of his parents’ money, he could spend his teen years living comfortably off their money, along with seven hours' worth of dollars, even affording to splurge out on some things like the newest skin mags and buying Farrah Fawcett in bulk from his mother’s bi-monthly delivered catalogues.

He had quite a lot of cash stored up in envelopes at the bottom of his underwear drawer, with lots of it also stored in a secret debit card under his name, altogether having more than enough savings to live alone and find his footing as he left this godforsaken house.

Steve's suitcase was fully ready to go, and so was he.

He chucked a jacket on his back, backpack on afterwards, and was ready to storm out, keychain in hand.

Deciding not to face the shouting match going on downstairs that would inevitably turn to angrily drinking, he decided to go out through the back door, right by the pool that had caused his life to veer well off course, for the better.

He wheeled his suitcase right over, glad for the shouting for once, since it’d cover any creaking from the stairs and the loud thumps of the suitcase as he brought it down.

Steve quickly evaded the sight of his parents, getting to the backdoor quite quickly, but not before he took a small gander at his parents in the living room, arguing right in front of an obnoxious mantlepiece, shrouded with many picture frames above it, none of them with the family inside.

He looked at them for what felt like a long moment, but was truthfully quite short, taking in their faces, knowing that this would likely be the last time that he’d ever see his parents again.

He said goodbye to Victoria and Richard Harrington in his head, his heart deep down still wanting to reach out and have their affection. It was pitiful.

Steve knew better than to entertain their negligence and lack of love, so he powered through these emotions, turning his gaze away and was now out the back door.

Quickly trudging the suitcase over, and he was now suddenly at the edge of the premises, just a metre away from his car—thankfully switched to being under his ownership as a gift for his eighteenth birthday.

He opened up the boot, shoving everything inside in a hurried manner. Once that was over, he threw himself into the beemer, mind focused on where the fuck he would go.

Robin wasn’t an option.

In any other moment, she would be, but the one time he needed her, she was over in Bloomington, Indiana, checking over their campus in case she ended up picking them as her go-to college, what with their great language courses.

Steve had been to her house before, and her parents were so sweet to him. They were quite odd and loved the idea of Robin breaking societal expectations and rules.

Sneaking Steve into the house was something that made them happy, wanting Robin to be such a rule-breaker, though he would feel very odd intruding on them, especially without Robin present to cool the awkward feelings that would be sure to arise with a situation like this.

Steve drove off, revving up his engine in a showcase of his own rule-breaking, finding it hilarious how he could faintly hear his father shout a few expletives as he ran out to attempt to catch up to Steve.

He drove off further, getting out of Loch Nora, and tried to rack his mind over where to stop.

Steve loved the kids and everyone else he’d met due to the Upside Down situation, but it just felt a tad too personal to infringe on their space with his issues.

While he joked about his parents a few times, only Robin knew the full extent of their neglect and awfulness, so he’d only feel right with her helping him, which wasn’t exactly a possibility.

He found himself absent-mindedly driving, cassette tape playing a few tunes on low volume, using it as background noise as he zoned out, too stuck in his head to listen to the godly voice of Bruce Springsteen singing The River.

Suddenly, he found himself recognising the land he was entering.

His mind had instinctively brought him over to Skull Rock, the place where he was far too used to going in his moments of anger—or sadness, when it came to his parents, or even Nancy after she broke up with him.

Before it was used for casual hookups and became a teenage deviance hotspot, it was just for him.

For Steve to sit alone and ponder, to find a space to relax away from everything.

Away from the suffocating house that never truly was his home, away from the thoughts plaguing his mind, and away from all the heartbreak haunting him, over losing Nancy, having nobody who knew him like Tommy and Carol once did, and his parents not loving him.

He knew that he’d have to find an actual place to stay, some little hotel before he’d have to start renting out his own place, but for now, this was good, it was more homey than the Harrington home of solitude and bad attitude had ever been.

Steve didn’t feel like leaving the comfort of his car, despite how much he loved Skull Rock, because it would make this real.

He expected it, but now that he was kicked out, his mind could barely take it.

His mind was going into overdrive while also zoning out, hardly able to process his father’s actions, his hand to Steve’s face and harsh words.

And truthfully, Steve didn’t want to process their words right now.

He just wanted to listen to the solemn voice of Bruce Springsteen, who was coincidentally singing Independence Day of all things, a song which was strangely fitting to the circumstances that led Steve to be sitting alone in his car with packed bags.

It was about a son who was leaving his father’s home and felt far too relatable for Steve right now, bringing tears up to hold in the waterline of his eyes.

Steve just let himself weep, focusing on nothing but the heart-wrenching vocals of Springsteen, crying everything out in a freeing manner.

It felt like he was doing that for hours, listening to nothing but Springsteen’s voice on repeat, passing through the songs on his cassette tape over and over.

A knock interrupted that.

It took Steve away from the vocals, bringing his surroundings to the forefront of his mind.

“Hey, hey—Steve?”

Steve looked out the window and saw Eddie, of all people. He did not expect that, though he didn’t really expect to see anyone he knew tonight in the middle of the night.

He promptly rolled down the window. “Eddie, hey,” Steve said, praying that the tear streaks on his face weren’t visible in the moonlight. “How’s it going?”

“Nothing too bad, just smoking and didn’t want to hotbox with Wayne sleeping—wait, is something wrong?” Eddie replied, cutting himself off, likely noticing Steve’s upset face that he was unable to hide.

Steve barked out a cracked laugh, almost croaking with how hysterical he sounded, “Uh—uhm, yeah. Something is wrong—or well, maybe you could call it right, to be honest.”

“Steve?” Eddie said worryingly.

“It’s—it’s my parents, man,” Steve uttered out, “They kicked me out, man.”

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed out, clearly sympathetic.

“Nah, it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Steve had to reassure Eddie, he didn’t want him feeling too sympathetic for him; it was pathetic on Steve’s end. “I’ve been expecting this to happen since I left school, walking on eggshells and saving money for the time it’d happen, and, well, it seems that it’s today.”

“It’s fucked up anyway, Steve,” Eddie said, “Your parents are assholes, man, and trust me, I know asshole parents.”

“It’s not that horrid,” Steve countered, “It was always gonna happen and they’d never connected with me so I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything, except for their cash, I suppose. But, now that it did happen, I do feel a little affected, I’ll admit.”

“Fuck them, you’re literally a monster hunter who saved the whole world from becoming some disastrous goo demonic dimension and they’re kicking you out? Fucking bastards, you’re so much greater than whatever bullshit they want from you.”

“I think even if my dad knew that, he’d still complain about how I wasn’t accepted to his Alma Mater,” Steve joked, smiling at Eddie’s attempt at uplifting him.

Eddie was looking at him with a focused stare, beginning to grin right back at Steve, “Yeah, well, your dad is some elite-level asshole who doesn’t understand the epic highs and lows of monster-battling, so fuck what he thinks.”

“Yeah, fuck what he thinks,” Steve repeated Eddie’s words, smirking as he did so, imagining the look on his father’s face if he ever was to hear this uttered from Steve’s mouth.

Eddie laughed, “Now you got it!”

“Yeah?” he glanced into Eddie’s eyes.

“Fuck him, seriously!” Eddie reiterated, eyes lighting up in the moonlight.

Steve chuckled, finding Eddie so sweet. While he was never the sort of person he’d interact with in high school, Steve was glad that he got to know him, even if it was due to another round of monstrous shenanigans occurring.

He was such a good guy, nothing like Steve assumed he’d be.

Someone Steve never expected would worm his way into his heart.

Someone who made Steve’s heart speed up, his face reddening, and his hands clammy in a way never felt by him since he romanced Nancy back in '83.

“Shit—wait!” Eddie blurted out, his beautiful brown eyes wide on display.

“Huh?”

“Where are you gonna stay then? No more Harrington mansion for you,” Eddie replied, sounding quite worried on behalf of Steve.

“My first thought was Robin’s, but she’s out of town right now, so I was thinking I should get a hotel or something.”

“No, Steve, those are pricey as fuck, you better room up with someone and save your money,” Eddie replied, “I had a place in the works to go ahead and rent, but Jeff caved into his parent’s and cancelled, decided to save and go college out of state, so I’m stuck with Wayne in the trailer—if I had space, I swear I’d offer it to you in an instant.”

“Eddie.” Steve was blunt, having a moment of realisation.

“Yeah?”

“You have money saved, I have money saved,” he said, watching the moment of realisation on Eddie’s face. “You want to move out of your uncle’s place, and I’m now out of my parents’ place, so why don’t we come together and get that together?”

Eddie’s eyes were drilling into Steve’s own, full of incredulity, “Seriously?” You wanna move somewhere with me?”

“Sure, why not?” Steve replied, “Better to live with you than crawl back to my parents and stay in that lonely home.”

“That’s not a home, a home is with the people you love,” Eddie remarked, “And I know this is a random decision, but I genuinely think it’d be fun—and crazy as hell—to move in with you.” He laughed under his breath, “Christ, if my younger self could hear this now, me moving in with ‘The Hair’ Harrington would blow his mind.”

“Well then, let’s make a home together,” Steve said. “I don’t want to stay with people I don’t love and who don’t love me—I’d rather be with you, someone I do love.”

He didn’t know why he said that. It was true, but it wasn’t right to blurt it out like this.

It was impulsive, an awful thing to say right after asking to rent together, and Steve could only pray that he didn’t fuck this plan up right after it’s conception.

“Y—you love me?” Eddie’s voice cracked out. “Steve, is this some joke, or am I right in getting my hopes up high?”

“I—fuck,” Steve responded, stumbling over his words right after he opened his cardoor to confess face-to-face with nothing obstructing them from each other. “I didn’t exactly mean to say that right now, but it is true. I really do like you.”

It seemed Eddie was gearing up to respond, “No fucking way, my younger self’s mind really would be blown the fuck up!” Eddie kneeled below Steve’s open car door, almost eye-level with Steve in the car seat. He placed one hand on Steve’s knee, the other moving in, right as his whole body moved further, reaching into the car.

He grabbed Steve with his free hand, right on his throat, lunging straight in for a kiss.

It was ferocious, full of energy, powerful and needy.

Steve thought it was perfect.

He got into it, instinctively joining in with Eddie, entwining their tongues together with a strong fervour.

Suddenly, their lips broke apart. Eddie was now a few inches away from him.

“How’s that for an answer?” Eddie quipped out, lips reddened up and upturned, clearly pleased at what had just happened.

“So, I’m guessing that’s a yes,” Steve replied, having a smile of his own, along with red lips perfectly matching Eddie’s.

“Goddamn, it is a yes,” Eddie blurted out, “I’d love to move in with you—to make our own home, away from all shitheads of town, just to have our free space and I’d just love to be with you.”

“That’s perfect.”

“It is?”

“Because I’d love to be with you as well.”

[steddiebingo]

Preheating, Freezing

My first @steddiebingo fic for round 2! Prompts: Bakery AU, Trapped

Takes place post-Vecna, but in an AU where Eddie wasn't involved. Also - Weirdo Steve Harrington supremacy.

Rating: G | WC: 4,851 | Tags: Pre-Steddie, Coworkers, Crying, Codependent Robin & Steve, PTSD, Head Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort | ao3

If it weren’t for this job, Eddie doesn’t know what he would do. Get a different one, he supposes, but that would suck ass. He likes the one he has. He likes showing up at 4:00 AM after a late-night-turned-early-morning, using the quiet hour of solitude between the drunks and the go-getters to mull over last night’s gig, or the progress he made on his campaign before he had to head out for work. He likes surrounding himself with the smell of proofing sourdough and pies in the oven, and munching on yesterday’s chocolate croissants with an extra-large coffee.

What he doesn’t like is training new hires.

It’s not a common occurrence. The joint is family owned, and small—so small it doesn’t really have a name. People call it “the place by Bradley’s” when they’re talking about where to get a birthday cake, and nobody asks which one when Eddie tells them he works at the bakery. Still, it’s popular enough to get a steady stream of customers until mid-afternoon, and with Chrissy gone for school, he knows they need another part-timer to pick up the slack. He just wishes his morning peace didn’t have to be interrupted for it.

“Hey, Munson.”

“Harrington,” Eddie replies, unlocking the door. He glances up as his newest coworker approaches from the BMW parked on the curb, yawning wide. “Early enough for you?”

“Feel like I’m headed to swim practice,” Steve says through the end of the yawn.

Eddie steps through the door and holds it open for Steve to pass through behind him. “A lot less bread at swim practice, I hope.”

“Definitely.”

Locking the door behind them, Eddie beckons for him to follow to the kitchen. He punches in, grabs a clean apron from the hook by the time clock, and leans toward the rack of cards while he puts it on. When he finds Steve’s name, he mutters, “Aha,” and plucks it from the rack to hand to him. “You ever used one of these before?”

Steve nods, sticks his card into the machine, and puts it back in the rack next to Eddie’s. “Same kind we had at Scoops.”

“That’s right, you worked at the food court. So did I.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Burger King.”

“Oh, wait.” A sly smile makes its way across Steve’s face. “So you had to wear that god-awful red polyester? And I thought we had it bad with the sailor outfits.”

“At least those things looked a tiny bit breathable,” Eddie agrees. “It was honestly a relief when the mall burned down, because I didn’t have to wear that shit ever again.”

Inexplicably, Steve’s smile freezes into an unsettled grimace. “Y-Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Okay…weird. Eddie knows that look. It’s the same one Wayne gets when something reminds him of the F5 that came way too close to the trailer park in ’74, or the look his mom would get when her asshole brother came around. Eddie wants to ask why his dumb joke seemed to give Steve a fucking Vietnam flashback, but he holds his tongue. Maybe he was there when it happened, or a friend of his died in the fire. Whatever the case, Eddie’s not about to drag all that shit out of him while he’s supposed to be teaching him how to work the big oven, no matter how curious it makes him.

“Right,” Eddie says. He clears his throat and reaches for a second apron. “So, um…put this on, unless you want to look like a powdered donut. That’s step one.”

Steve obediently pulls the thing over his head.

While he’s tying it, Eddie goes on, “Step two is looking at the list for today.”

“The list?”

He leads Steve to the bulletin board by the walk-in freezer and taps the paper pinned up in the corner. “Everything we’ve got to get in and out of the oven before the morning rush. Some special orders to prep, but mostly—”

“Breakfast stuff?”

Eddie resents being interrupted, but at least it tells him Steve is on the right page. “Yep.” He pulls the list down and reads by the dim bulb above the sink.

“Do you want me to turn on the light?”

“Good god, no. I never turn it on if I can help it.”

“Oh…okay.” Steve stands there looking awkward and useless.

Eddie ignores him, turning his attention back to their morning checklist. He usually thinks aloud, and this morning is no exception. He hopes Steve is listening so he doesn’t have to repeat himself. “Croissants and scones are in the freezer; they can go right in the oven. George made the bagels last night, just have to pull those out of the pantry and put ’em in the case. Muffins: blueberry and…maple flax? Really, Pauline? We haven’t sold more than two flaxseed muffins all month.” He sighs, knowing what he’ll be having for breakfast tomorrow. “Whatever…”

“So we need to make muffins?” Steve says.

Eddie glances up. He’d almost forgotten there was someone else in the room. “Yeah. But we should take care of the scones first. Can you set the oven to four-hundred?”

“Oh,” Steve says again. “Sure.” He turns to one of the two industrial-sized ovens a few feet away, walks over, and stares at it for a moment. Then he turns back to Eddie and says, “Uh…how?”

Trying to suppress a long-suffering sigh (though admittedly not trying very hard) Eddie marches over and shows him, punching buttons with learned precision. “Got it?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Steve lets out a nervous chuckle. “You’re a braver man than me.”

“Why do you say that? You afraid of ovens or something?”

“No! God, wouldn’t that be funny, working in a bakery?” Another chuckle. “No, I just can’t turn on an oven without checking inside first. Cleaning up melted Tupperware isn’t something I want to do ever again.”

Eddie stares at him. “You left Tupperware in your oven?”

“My mom did. My family doesn’t bake much, so she stores it there. One time I wanted to make cinnamon rolls, and let’s just say the fire department wasn’t amused.”

“Well, lucky for us, the only thing that passes through this oven is stuff that’s supposed to be there. Speaking of which”—Eddie whirls and heads back to the walk-in—“let me show you where we keep the stuff that gets prepped ahead of time.” He pulls the handle on the massive door and lets it swing wide. A frigid cloud hits them, and he steps forward. Once Steve is inside too, he props the door open behind them.

“Chilly,” Steve remarks, chuckling yet again. “Would suck to get trapped in here.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge the observation. Instead he points at the shelves at eye level and says, “Right here is where you’ll always find stuff for the day ahead. By the time the afternoon shift is here, this will all be gone, and they’ll fill the shelf back up with tomorrow’s.” He picks up a baking sheet, covered in doughy triangles that are just visible through a layer of frosty plastic wrap. “These are orange-cranberry scones. There’s some blueberry-lemon and cinnamon right there. Go ahead and grab a tray, and we’ll start putting ’em in the oven as soon as it’s done preheating.”

Stepping out of the freezer, the temperature of the kitchen is a stark contrast. With the oven heating up, the whole room has started to get a little stuffy. Eddie puts his tray of scones on the counter next to the oven and goes to open the window. Usually he opens it before turning anything on. That’s what happens when something fucks with my routine. He wonders what else he’s going to forget before this shift is through. Hopefully it won’t be anything important.

The next half-hour is uneventful. Steve takes instruction surprisingly well, always rushing to do whatever Eddie suggests—though at times, he realizes just a moment later that he needs further guidance. Over the course of the morning, Eddie becomes more and more willing to give it, because goddammit, despite his misgivings, the guy’s charm is undeniable. He’s still not happy to be losing his quiet time, but at least Steve doesn’t say more than he needs to. With another set of hands there, Eddie is also more productive than usual, and by a quarter to five they’re left with very little to do.

He goes over their remaining tasks in his head. They’re all easy things: packing up Flo’s usual order for the station, feeding the sourdough starter, putting the muffins and loaves in the case once they’re out of the oven, replacing them with the pies of the day. Last thing to do is put together the cookies for the Wheelers’ party platter, but it’s a little early for that.

Time for breakfast, then, he thinks, and he calls out for Steve, who ventured into the freezer at his suggestion to pull out the unbaked pies. “Let’s take a breather. You wanna pick out a bagel? Bet we could get away with raiding the fresh ones.”

He doesn’t get an answer.

Furrowing his brow, Eddie tries again. “Harrington? Do you want some breakfast or not?”

Still nothing.

He rounds the corner to the freezer and finds the big door shut. Whirling around and around for some sign of where Steve went, he starts to panic. It’s not that he’d be upset if Steve decided bakery life wasn’t for him and skipped out on him; it’s more about the fact that Pauline will definitely blame it on Eddie for scaring him off. His snark is no secret, and he’s pretty sure it’s why she gave him the pre-open morning shift in the first place, to keep his mouth from offending any customers. The last thing he needs is for the manager to have another excuse for her weird vendetta.

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief when he spots an unfamiliar set of keys on the hook beside the bulletin board. Steve is still here, unless he decided to leave his car for some reason.

Turning back to the freezer, Eddie cocks his head in confusion. Did he shut himself in? He reaches out, turns the handle, and pulls the door open. On the other side, he does find Steve, though not remotely in a state he anticipated.

He’s huddled on the floor, with his back to a shelf of frozen butter, and though he jumps about a foot in the air at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, the startled look on his face does nothing to hide how red and puffy his eyes are. “Munson!” He shoots to his feet, wiping his nose on the back of his hand and sniffling hard. It’s clear he’s desperate to look casual, though his voice is thick and rough when he goes on, “Sorry, man. I, uh…I got stuck.”

Eddie stares, blinking. “You got stuck,” he echoes.

“Yeah.”

Because he’s never been one to shy away from the elephant in any room, he purses his lips and says, “Is that all you were crying about? Getting stuck in the walk-in?”

Steve looks startled all over again by Eddie’s candor. He opens and closes his mouth half a dozen times before crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling, “No.”

Now Eddie is even more surprised. “Okay…then why were you crying?”

There are a few different emotions in conflict on Steve’s face. Eddie spots the ones he expects, with fear and shame taking the lion’s share. There’s also a tiny flicker of something hopeful, though, and he realizes a moment before he speaks that Steve must be debating whether or not to be honest. He huffs, then says, “I miss Robin.”

“What?”

“Robin Buckley. This is the first job I ever had without her, since she left for U of L. I mean, I guess that’s if you don’t count that summer I was a lifeguard, but that was totally different, because—”

“You mean to tell me,” Eddie interrupts, because he knows the beginning of a nervous ramble when he sees one, “that you came to the walk-in to cry because you’re used to working with your friend?” When he sees some of Steve’s fear overtaking his shaky confidence, he hurriedly adds, “Which is totally fine! I mean, we’ve all done it.”

Steve stares. “You have?” he says, with the dull monotone of disbelief.

“Yeah. I mean, not for the same reason, but if you ask around you’ll find that the walk-in is a popular spot for the occasional mental breakdown among staff.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Steve says slowly, seeming to mull over the concept. “We did the same thing at Scoops sometimes.”

“Robin worked with you there, too, right?” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible without sounding patronizing.

A leftover tear escapes over Steve’s lashes and drips down his cheek. He wipes it away impatiently and nods. “It’s where we met. And then she basically got me the job at the video store, because Keith hated my guts. When she left for school…I don’t know. I couldn’t stand being there without her around, so I quit.” He grimaces and shakes his head. “Not the best idea I ever had.”

“So you two went from food service straight into retail? No wonder you’re best friends. You’ve been through a lot together.”

The joke does its job. Steve laughs a bit and says, “You have no idea.”

Glad to have diffused some of the tension, Eddie taps Steve’s shoulder with his knuckles and says, “Anyway, I was looking for you. You wanna have some breakfast?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Steve sighs. He sniffs one more time, but it’s clear his tears have dried up. Before they make it out of the freezer, though, he says, “Oh! I did actually get stuck, though. Is there a way out of here when that happens?”

“Sure. Want me to show you?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Eddie smiles. “That’s what I’m here for.” He takes a step back and lets the door shut with a metallic thud. “It’s really easy. All you have to do is…oh. Wait.” He stares at the lever that opens the door from the inside.

There’s a beat of silence before Steve says, “Everything okay?”

Still with his eyes fixed on the mechanism, Eddie bites his lip. “I, uh. I forgot.”

“You forgot what?”

He turns to meet Steve’s gaze, hoping his apologetic look masks the rising alarm. “It’s broken.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. “So we’re…?”

“Yeah.”

He swallows. “And Pauline—”

“Won’t be here for another half-hour,” Eddie finishes for him.

“But the muffins are supposed to come out in twenty minutes!”

It’s such a strange thing to be concerned about in their current predicament that Eddie actually laughs. In fact, he doubles over, struggling to breathe the frigid air and leaning on one of the shelves to keep himself on his feet.

“What’s so funny?” Steve demands.

“Nothing! It’s just…you’re looking down the barrel of half an hour stuck in the freezer…and you’re worried about the muffins?”

“We worked hard on them,” he says, looking wounded. Before long, though, he seems to understand how absurd it is, and the look morphs into a sheepish grin.

Eddie hates to admit it, but that expression is one of the most adorable things he’s ever seen, and the dopey giggle it’s paired with does his psyche no additional favors. “They’ll be okay with an extra ten minutes. Maybe a little charred, definitely a little dry. That just means Pauline’s vision of a flaxseed empire will crumble.” He snorts at his own pun, then adds, “It’s her own fault for not getting the repairs done as soon as the door broke last week.”

“It’s a safety issue, actually. I’ll bring it up with my mom.”

“Your mom? Why?”

“She’s friends with Pauline. It’s the only reason I got this job,” Steve says. He smirks. “I bet if I tell her about this, it’ll be fixed by tomorrow.”

“Hm. So you’ve got an in with the boss, huh? That could come in handy.” Eddie sinks to the floor, right next to where Steve sat a minute ago.

Steve lowers himself with a groan, joining him. “Don’t get too excited. She’ll only raise hell about the freezer door because it’s a hazard.”

“So that means no raise, huh?”

“I’d say probably not.”

“Damn.” Eddie shoots him a grin. “Well, forcing her to meet OSHA standards is better than nothing. It might be nice having you around.”

“That’s good to hear. I was so worried about fucking up, I hardly slept at all last night.”

“Why? You’re doing just fine.”

Steve sighs. “I guess sometimes it feels like—or, I don’t know, it felt like Robin did most of the work, at Family Video at least. I don’t know shit about movies. Even though she tried to show me some, my memory is total shit, so I didn’t ever retain much.”

“So you’re not into movies. Who cares?” Eddie shrugs. “I’m not that into baking, even though I’ve been working here since my junior year. Everything I do turns out like it’s supposed to, but it’s not like I could bake a loaf of banana bread without the recipe right in front of me. Although,” he says, smirking, “it has given me a lot of ideas for things to add a secret ingredient to, if you catch my drift.”

Steve exhales a short laugh and looks down at his lap, where his hands fidget with the hem of his apron.

“I’m just saying, you probably did a lot more for that joint than Keith’s encyclopedic knowledge of Star Trek ever did.”

He exhales again. “You know about that?”

“Oh, I’m very familiar. One time we got into it over who would win in a fight between Tolkien’s orcs and the Klingons.”

“I have no clue what that means.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Eddie says, waving a dismissive hand. “Just know that he came into that argument with more trekkie trivia than I thought even existed.”

Steve laughs. He actually laughs out loud, instead of letting out one of his nervous chuckles.

It’s a pretty sound, Eddie thinks. Too pretty. The last thing he needs is to start thinking about how cute Steve is, especially if they’re gonna be working together.

Because Steve is cute. He always has been, and Eddie isn’t about to deny it: gorgeous face, melodic laugh, a cleverly self-deprecating attitude that plays Eddie’s heartstrings like a fiddle. None of that changes the fact that Steve Harrington was a cookie-cutter jock in high school, though. He’s the type of guy who would probably kick his ass if he called him cute out loud.

Then again…he’s close enough with some hyper band geek to be weeping over her absence. More importantly, he owned up to the tears, and the potentially embarrassing reason for them. Eddie knows that’s not something his old douchebag friends would’ve ever let him live down. So maybe he’s…sensitive. In a good way.

In a cute way.

“Look, I know I’m not Buckley,” Eddie says, “but maybe I can stand in for her. At least ’til she’s home for Thanksgiving.”

Steve studies his face. It takes Eddie a moment to register that he’s looking for some kind of cruel joke, his wary eyes searching for a sign that Eddie’s putting him on for laughs. Eddie wonders how often that used to happen with his old friends. Lord knows they did it to the rest of their peers, though he hadn’t ever considered the fact that Tommy H might’ve been just as much of an asshole to Steve as he was to everyone.

“I’ll be your work buddy,” Eddie elaborates, trying to sound sincere while keeping his tone light. “You need to bitch about something, you can bitch to me.”

“Okay,” Steve finally says, a cautious smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“It goes both ways, though. You have to let me bitch about management, too.”

“Deal.”

“And I promise that it will be in no way an excuse to get you to tattle on Pauline.”

Steve laughs again. If he’s not careful with that giggle of his, Eddie’s gonna fall in love with him.

They’re quiet for a while. The cold is starting to get to Eddie, but with Steve close to him, it’s not too bad. He checks his watch, starts to comment on how it won’t be long before Pauline waltzes in and frees them, but Steve speaks up first.

“I’m sorry if I was ever a dick to you in high school,” he says, his voice quiet.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. “Nah, it’s all water under the bridge.” He pauses, thinking. “You know what? Actually, I don’t think you ever were.”

Steve turns to look at him. “No?”

“No,” Eddie repeats, shaking his head. He offers a soft, playful smirk. “You’d have to know I existed to be a dick to me.”

“I knew who you were,” Steve protests. “I bought drugs from you once.”

“What about the bagels?”

His eye twitches, and he frowns. “Bagels?”

“Your order at the bakery. Sesame bagel with bacon, egg, and cheese. To go.”

“You…remember that?”

“Well, you came in every day at the ass-crack of dawn and ordered the same sandwich. Kinda hard to forget.” Eddie smiles, trying to get across that he’s not offended.

“I thought you said you worked at Burger King before.”

“Only last summer, because Pauline hired her nephew and I couldn’t stand him. I was here through most of high school. Had to come crawling back after the mall burned down.” Because guilt is starting to settle into Steve’s features like it belongs there, Eddie goes on, “It makes sense you don’t remember me, though—it’s not like Pauline would ever let me get away with my signature look working front of house.”

Still frowning, Steve says, “I just can’t believe I forgot.”

“You’re the one who said your memory’s shit,” Eddie reminds him with a gentle smile.

Thankfully, it draws a small one from Steve, too. “Good point.” He tilts his head, staring at the floor in front of him. “You know, Robin remembered that sandwich, too. We were in Click’s class first period, and she was so annoyed with me getting crumbs all over the place every day. I didn’t even know she was there.” The last part is so quiet, Eddie isn’t sure he was supposed to hear it.

“And now it takes a crowbar to pry you two apart,” he emphasizes.

“Not true,” Steve says. “She’s in a whole other state now.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Eddie shoots back, with yet another good-natured smile. “I bet you talk on the phone every night.”

Steve blushes. Though he doesn’t answer out loud, that’s answer enough.

“And you can always get in that beemer of yours to go see her. Isn’t it just a straight shot down 65? Can’t be more than an hour’s drive.”

Steve shakes his head, looking for all the world like a lost puppy. “I don’t want to bother her. Besides, I’m okay just talking to her on the phone.”

“Sure,” Eddie says. He shoots Steve a sly grin.

It earns him one in return. “Okay, fine. I’d love to go down and spend the day with her sometime.”

“If you need company on the drive…I’ll be around.”

The tips of Steve’s ears go as pink as his cheeks. “Thanks. I’ll keep you in mind.”

It was an experimental offer; the fact that Steve seems receptive makes Eddie’s heart start hammering, and suddenly he’s desperate to change the subject before he asks him out right then and there. He pushes out all his air in a huff and says, “There’s something else that’s bugging me.”

“There is?” Steve says. He looks uncertain again, though not quite as blue as he did when Eddie mentioned his usual breakfast in high school.

“Yeah. And it might a be a little personal, if that’s alright.”

He narrows his eyes, but he says, “Okay.”

“Earlier, when I brought up the mall burning down…you looked like you wanted to ralph. What was that about?” Eddie asks.

“Oh.” Steve surprises him by smiling and shaking his head. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“I’m trapped in a giant icebox with King Steve, who just got done crying his eyes out because he’s got some kind of weird codependency going on with Robin Buckley, of all people.” Eddie catches his eye and raises an eyebrow. “At this point I’d believe anything.”

“Trust me, man. It’s pretty out there.”

“Try me.”

Steve shakes his head again. “It’s too weird.”

“I’m weird,” Eddie points out. “I’m like, the keeper of weird shit. If there’s something strange afoot and I’m not aware of it, I’m doing a subpar job.”

Fixing him with a wary look, Steve purses his smiling lips. It makes him look like he’s begging for just one more reason to spill the beans. Eventually, he says, “It could put a target on your back if you knew.”

“With who?”

“The feds.”

“Well, now you have to tell me,” Eddie whines, reveling in the short laugh Steve returns to him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to just move on!”

“Okay, fine! I’ll tell you. But you can’t repeat a word of it to anyone.” Steve takes a deep breath, lets it all out, then takes another before he continues. “You remember a couple years ago, when Will Byers went missing?”

Eddie blinks, startled. “Will Byers? What does that have to do with the mall?”

“I’m getting there. You remember it?”

“Sure. Really pissed me off the way people talked about the kid when he came back. ‘Zombie Boy’…like he had a fucking say in the cops thinking that other body was him.”

“You remember the official story?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and sighs, trying to recall what he heard on the news. “That he got picked up by some drifter, right? He got away from ’em, but he almost died in the wilderness before the Chief found him.”

Steve meets Eddie’s eye and shakes his head. “No.”

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Then what did happen?”

“He got kidnapped by a monster and taken to this…other dimension, or whatever. I’m not very good at explaining it. But his brother and Nancy Wheeler lured it out—this big fucker, at least seven feet tall, huge mouth for a face—and I fought it with them. Hopper and Joyce found Will and brought him back to the real Hawkins.”

Eddie stares—not in disbelief, because that would require a modicum of understanding, and he’s having some trouble processing what Steve just said. “You…? Hold on. Another dimension?”

“Told you it was weird,” Steve says, shrugging. “Anyway, the mall got attacked by another monster. Different kind, made of melted people, and it possessed Hargrove. The fire was a cover-up.”

“And you…?”

“I was there. Me and Robin, and a bunch of our other friends.” He grins in vague reminiscence. “Weird way to celebrate the Fourth of July, but at least there were fireworks.”

What the fuck? Is he off his rocker? His voice faint, Eddie echoes, “Fireworks?”

“Oh, we threw ’em at the melted-people monster,” Steve explains, dismissive. “Not sure how many I landed, because it turned out the Russians gave me a massive concussion, but—”

Russians?! “Let me get this straight,” Eddie says, turning towards Steve. He needs to see his face, needs to study it the same way Steve studied his earlier, looking in vain for a trace of humor. “Not only are these monsters real, but they’ve attacked people in Hawkins twice?”

“Three times,” Steve corrects. “The fucked-up pumpkin patches were because of the monsters, too. Will Byers got possessed that time.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You regret begging me to tell you?”

“I’m gonna be totally honest, I’m not sure I believe you after all.”

“Fair enough. But I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“You sure you didn’t, like—”

Eddie is cut off by the clang of the door handle, signaling their rescue. As the heavy door swings open, and Pauline’s expression of apology comes into view, Steve presses a finger to his lips. He smirks once again, rises to his feet, and meets Pauline at the door, greeting her cordially.

It takes Eddie an extra few seconds to join them. He can’t move very quickly, because he’s too busy processing everything he just learned—not just Steve’s story, but the nonchalant and honest way he delivered it. Because it was clear that Steve at least thought he was telling the truth, which means one thing, regardless of whether he was right or if he’d had some vivid hallucinations.

Steve Harrington is way stranger than Eddie would’ve ever guessed.

[steddiebingo]

The Painting and The Painter

WC: 1.6k Rating: G Tags: Modern Setting, Art Galleries, Different First Meeting @steddiebingo prompt: Second Chances Full tags on AO3

Art had never really been Steve’s thing. 

Especially not modern art. 

He didn’t really get it.

And he didn’t really want to get it, if he was being honest with himself. 

And ‘himself’ was the only person he’d be honest with about this subject.

The last time he tried to express such feelings, he felt like he was about to be on the bad end of a witch hunt.

Too many artists and art appreciators had scoffed or pitied him as if he was an idiot for not getting the deep and meaningful message of a pile of trash pulled from a junkyard sitting in the middle of an empty room with the meaning of: consumerism, bad. 

Like, yeah thanks, he didn’t need to go see a pile of junk in a room to realise consumerism was bad. A pile of junk, by the way, he had to pay to go see because his ex just had to examine it up close.

He needed to stop dating people from Robin’s art college.

Steve was well aware he wasn’t exactly cerebral like that, and while it had taken a long, long time for him to become comfortable with it, other people saw it as a soul deep flaw.

So forgive him for enjoying an evening at a bar with his friends or watching a game more than standing around and nodding while some dick with his head shoved up his own ass delivered a speech about the broken department store mannequin he had spent five minutes spray painting, meant to represent the futility of the beauty industry or whatever the fuck, while he waved a manicured hand around and arched a microbladed brow at those who looked sufficiently guilty in light of his irrefutable morals.

So yeah, art wasn’t really his thing. 

But this was Robin’s art.

So at the very least, for this showing, he would force his brain into making an effort.

He was actually very surprised at how little he had to force.

It was immediately clear to Steve that this showing was different from the others.

For one, there was music. 

And not that hoity-toity classical string quartet nonsense that people like Steve’s parents pretended to enjoy because it was what was expected of them. It was like…

There was no other way to describe it other than cool or even young and Steve immediately wanted to go dunk his head in the sink because even to himself he sounded like a youth pastor desperately trying to connect with the young’uns.

But it was some kind of instrumental rock or whatever, playing at a volume that wasn’t obtrusive but still filled the silence enough to allow people to feel comfortable talking and not whispering to each other.

The gallery itself was a deep dark red colour, dimly lit with various spotlights shining on the artwork, which itself was a mish-mash of different types.

Steve wasn’t exactly sure if that was the right word, different mediums maybe?

Costume pieces and sculptures, paintings and photography.

Robin was practically abuzz, excitedly talking to anyone who asked about her inspiration for her own piece, and whereas in other gallery showings Steve would have expected to find people being overly stuffy and formal, everyone here seemed to take things much more casually.

Robin sent him a wild and panicked look as another artist at the show, a cute little blonde woman who’s piece involved an old highschool cheer costume on a skeleton, batted her eyelashes at Robin as she stuttered over her words.

Steve sent her a two fingered salute and stepped back and away from her, smiling as she glared at him.

He could wander on his own for a little bit, surely he could find something to entertain himself.

It was almost by mistake he came upon the painting. 

And that seemed to be the point.

Hidden away by a dark corner, lit up by only one single spotlight, was a traditional looking portrait, the type that royals and aristocrats had painted of themselves in centuries past.

The man in the portrait was dressed in old-timey formals, gold epaulettes on his shoulders, medals and badges on his chest, a yellow sash over his blue military jacket. His chestnut hair lay in an artful swoop over his head, his face adorned with moles and beauty marks, his hazel eyes looking out of the portrait with a mix of exasperation, a little bit of irritation, but mostly a deep and unmoveable fondness that Steve could just about feel down in his bones.

“There’s something about him, isn’t there?”

Steve turned to the man who had appeared nearly silently at his side. The man turned to look at him with an almost lovelorn grin.

Steve’s eyes did a sweep of him, wild curly dark hair, deep dark eyes, the hint of dimples appearing at his cheeks, black inky tattoos along his wiry arms.

Beautiful.

Steve smiled back, almost finding himself blushing, though he couldn’t fathom the reason.

“Is this one of yours?” He asked, assuming this man was one of the artists here, showing off his work, though he’d never seen him around Robin’s college.

“Me?” The man asked, a mischievous lilt in his voice. “Unfortunately not. But he is a part of my collection and I couldn’t bear to pack him away in storage. He’s just too beautiful.”

“Oh.”

Steve looked back up at the portrait above him. 

He couldn’t deny there was something about the painting that was pulling him in, but he wouldn’t exactly say it was the subject that was doing it for him.

There was something about the care and almost reverence that seemed to come from the painting itself. 

Like the artist had meticulously made sure everything was perfect. 

Like he had left a part of his soul in the canvas.

“You look like him, actually.”

Steve turned again, the man was still looking at him, that same yearning smile in place.

“Do you think so?”

Steve himself didn’t really see the resemblance but he wasn’t going to deny an attractive man telling him he looked similar to a painting he had called beautiful.

“I do.” He looked upon Steve like he was an artwork in himself, his gaze magnetic and inescapable. “The man who painted this… There was a rumour they were lovers. The painter and the subject, that is.”

Steve grinned a little sadly to himself.

“Historians will call them roommates.” He quipped, a resigned type of defeat making its way into his tone against his will.

The man hummed next to him, turning fully to face him now.

“Probably.” He raised a finger to tap lightly at the pride flag pin on Steve’s collar. “History hasn’t ever really been kind to our people, after all.”

“What else do you know of them…?” Steve left a gap at the end of his sentence, hoping, praying that this man would bless him with his name.

“Eddie.”

Eddie.

It fit. 

It fit so absurdly well that Steve had wondered how he hadn’t just been able to guess it. The person in front of him had always been the type of person Steve had imagined whenever he had thought of the name Eddie, as strange as that sounded.

“Steve.” Steve gave back in turn.

Eddie smiled at him again, appearing to share the sentiment of a name fitting perfectly to a person. 

“That’s right.” He said, less of a confirmation and more of an acknowledgment of a puzzle piece slotting into place.

Eddie heaved a heavy sigh, a moment of overdone drama that set Steve’s heart fluttering and had him leaning in just a little more, desperate to be closer.

“Their tale is a tragic one, I’m afraid. The man in the painting perished in a fire not long after it was completed. This was the last piece the artist ever completed. He disappeared after the fire, never to be seen again. I think…” Eddie hesitated, swallowing. “I think he followed his lover not long after.”

Steve looked back up at the careful brushstrokes and meticulous detail, his heart plummeting down deep and his eyes welling up against his will, unable to stop thinking of the despair the painter must have felt, the despair Steve himself felt that the painter thought there was no way forward after such a loss.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie whispered to him, gently thumbing away at the tears on Steve’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Steve shook his head, eyes down and tried his best to fight off the urge to throw himself into the arms of this stranger who he had just met, this man who he felt an inexplicable and borderline compulsive need to be closer to, to hold tight to him and be assured that he was alive and well.

He only managed a second of hesitation before he gave in, rocketing forward and colliding with such a force into Eddie that he was forced to take a step back to steady himself, but steady himself he did, arms immediately coming up to encase Steve with a warmth and a surety that a stranger should not have, but never in his life had Steve ever felt as at home as he did right now.

“Let me make it up to you?” Eddie asked, low and comforting, slowly running a hand up and down Steve’s back. 

Steve sniffed to himself, a small smile curling over his face as he nestled in deeper to Eddie’s hold, a contented sigh escaping from his lungs as everything in the world felt right again.

So right, and he hadn’t even known it had been wrong.

“Okay.” He muttered into Eddie’s skin, relishing the shiver he received in return. “Give me your number?”

Eddie squeezed him, just a little pulse, tighter then loose again, but never once letting go.

“You’ve got a deal, sweet thing.”

AO3 As always, my biggest thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

[steddiebingo]

SPLASH INTO SUMMER WITH STEDDIE!

SIGN UPS NOW OPEN FOR SPLASH OF SUMMER MINI EVENT

This is a Summer themed mini event with four prompts. To complete this mini event, you must complete all of the prompt fills.  

Sign Ups: JUNE 16, 2025 - JUNE 29, 2025 Cards Released: July 1, 2025 Posting: July 1, 2025 - July 25, 2025 Cards Due: July 26, 2025 - July 29, 2025

Rules:

Authors must write at least 500 words per entry.

Artists are welcome to participate with one piece per prompt. 

No prompts can be combined on this card.

You can use a single entry for both a holiday prompt and your main bingo card.

–

INFO | FAQ | SCHEDULE | ASK | SIGN UP | SUBMIT A CARD

[steddiebingo]

In a Deep Sea of Blankets

Written for the @steddiebingo prompt “company” and inspired by the @stmarchmm prompt “nests” | wc: 1,965 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: Steddie, Alpha Eddie, Omega Steve, Dustin Henderson, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, hurt/comfort, trauma and alpha drop recovery, found family, domestic fluff, scenting, cuddles galore

This was inspired by @alwaysurvalentine’s tags on As You Fall All Around, requesting lots of cuddles and a dog pile with Dustin.

———

The drive from Reefer Rick’s place to Steve’s house seems to take forever, mostly because it’s hard for Steve to actually operate a vehicle with Eddie clinging to him. With Robin crammed in the back with the pups, they have the front seat to themselves with plenty of room for Eddie to curl up beside Steve, his nose tucked securely against Steve’s scent gland.

The Alpha is quiet in the aftermath of his drop. It’s like the events of the past twenty-four hours have hit him all at once and Eddie doesn’t have the energy to do anything but breathe in his Omega’s soothing cinnamon-sugar scent. It’s a comfort to Steve, too, having his Alpha so close— the steady rhythm of Eddie’s exhales against his skin, the firm embrace of Eddie’s arms around his waist, the press of their bodies warm even through their clothes.

They stay close while Steve herds everyone into the house, holding Eddie’s hand as he guides him upstairs, down the hallway, through Steve’s bedroom and into the en suite. It’s an awkward journey; Eddie is capable of walking, just not particularly interested in doing so if it requires him to lift his head away from Steve’s neck and look where he’s going.

Steve can be patient. It’s easy when he remembers Eddie shaking and whimpering in the throes of his drop, remembers that he would do anything for his Alpha to never have to feel that way again.

He turns on the shower and strips away Eddie’s clothes. Excavating layers of leather and cotton, peeling away the lingering dirt and sour sweat clinging to the fabric, it’s a relief to scent Eddie beneath it all. His smell isn’t fully back to normal, more of a smoldering log than a roaring campfire, but it’s lost the sickly edge of distress.

“You gonna join me?” Eddie rasps.

Steve almost cracks a joke, but there’s still something raw in the way Eddie is watching him— a little uncertain, almost embarrassed— that stops him. “Of course,” he says instead, already undoing the fly of his jeans.

It’s one of the more efficient showers they’ve shared, more focused on actually getting Eddie clean than on enjoying each other’s wet and soapy bodies. Steve might prefer this, if he’s honest: Eddie relaxing under Steve’s hands as he messages shampoo into his scalp, his burnt wood smell blooming beneath unscented soap. It taps into Steve’s lifelong craving for domesticity. After so much time spent alone in an empty, echoing house, it soothes him to have someone else sharing his space and letting him care for them.

Somehow, Steve resists the urge to kiss him until they’re dried off. Eddie is stepping into a pair of boxers fresh from Steve’s drawer, hair dripping despite the towel wrapped around his shoulders, and Steve just has to grab the edges of the towel and pull him in until their lips meet.

“What was that for?” Eddie asks when he pulls away.

“Just because.” He’s not sure he wants to explain why the mere sight of Eddie in his house does it for him, if he could even articulate it. Instead, he presses another kiss to Eddie’s lips, then his cheek and his temple, and finishes with a final peck on the lips when Eddie leans into the touch. It almost hurts how tender Eddie can make him feel; how much he makes Steve want to bundle up Eddie in his clothes, keep him safe and warm in his nest and never let him leave.

Maybe that’s not a feasible solution in the long term, but he can have it for now.

He gently steers Eddie in the direction of his bed, wet hair and all, with a minor detour to his dresser for some clean clothes for both of them. Then they crawl under the blankets of Steve’s bed, which already smell like them, and Eddie curls up with his head on Steve’s chest, and Steve feels like he can breathe again for the first time since he entered the boat house.

Eddie feels the same, if his long, satisfied sigh is anything to go by. He burrows more firmly into the familiar contours of Steve’s body, easily fitting them together even while half-asleep. Steve’s hands comb through Eddie’s hair in a steady rhythm that matches Eddie’s breaths as they get deeper and slower.

Steve’s eyes grow heavy, too, weighed down by the warmth of his Alpha in his nest and the comfort of his woodsy scent mixing with Steve’s own spicy sweetness. As it always does when Eddie is around, something settles in Steve’s chest. It’s like a puzzle piece snapping into place, a key fitting neatly into a lock, overflowing the spaces within Steve that he thought were too deep to ever be filled.

He doesn’t let himself fully fall asleep, just drifts in the calm space where he’s just barely aware of his surroundings. His Alpha is there and they’re cozy and safe, and that’s all that matters. If it were up to Steve, they would stay like this forever. No Upside Down, no murders, no hiding, just holding each other until they both rotted away.

All thoughts of peace rush from his mind like the tide when he hears a knock on his bedroom door.

“Steve?” The gentle lisp is clearly Dustin’s but he sounds quieter and more unsure than Steve has ever heard him.

“Come in,” Steve tells him, strained as he tries to project his voice across the room without disturbing Eddie.

Dustin’s head peeks around the edge of the door to make sure the older boys are decent. He must be satisfied with what he sees, since he doesn’t hesitate to enter and shut the door behind him. “He’s asleep?” he asks, tilting his head in Eddie’s direction.

Eddie hums in denial, though it’s not coherent enough to make much of an argument.

“Mostly,” Steve confirms. “He dropped pretty hard.”

“But he’s okay now?” Dustin presses. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other— uneasy, guilty.

It makes Steve’s chest ache. Eddie may be his Alpha, but Dustin has been part of his pack for years. His instincts itch to comfort the pup and pull him into the nest where Steve and Eddie can both look after him. “C’mere.” Steve holds out the edge of the blanket closest to Dustin, gesturing for him to come join their cuddling.

“Are you sure?” he hesitates.

“Eddie won’t mind. He’ll barely notice you’re here.”

Dustin toes out of his sneakers and slips into the nest on Steve’s other side. He smells warm and vaguely sweet in the way Steve associates with all of his pups, complementing his and Eddie’s scents in a way that just feels right.

Dustin seems to agree, considering how easily he snuggles against Steve. He mirrors Eddie’s position so both heads of messy curls rise and fall against Steve’s chest with each breath he takes. The resemblance is so striking that Steve can almost pretend that Dustin is really their pup, just for a second– a smaller Dustin, with that same glorious hair and Eddie’s curiosity and Steve’s attitude, could easily be mistaken for their biological child. God, Steve wishes.

It must bleed into Steve’s scent, that hint of wistfulness that almost tips into melancholy. Dustin whines into Steve’s chest when his cinnamon-sweetness goes a little sour.

“Hey, no.” Steve wraps his free arm around Dustin’s back, rubbing soothing circles through his shirt. “We’re okay, bud, it’s okay.”

“Are you mad at me?”

It’s so abrupt that it takes Steve’s breath away, like a punch to the gut. “What? No, why would I–?”

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that when you called Eddie ‘Alpha.’ That’s probably why you didn’t tell us, huh?” It comes out muffled with how close he’s pressing himself against Steve’s side. “You knew I would be a little shit about it.”

Steve hugs him tighter. “You’re always a little shit. It’s kind of your thing,” he says teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. “But that’s what we love about you.”

“I just wish you didn’t feel like you had to hide it, you know?”

And that’s a whole other can of worms that Steve doesn’t think he can open tonight. He and Eddie would mostly be accepted as an Omega and Alpha couple, even in a town as small as Hawkins, but… He can’t help but remember how his father had reacted when he presented, how he’d introduced Steve to so many Alpha daughters of his coworkers over the years since. There were expectations, still, even if they went unvoiced, and there would be consequences if Steve couldn’t meet them.

He tries to explain without explaining, “We weren’t hiding it from you. We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a while, just the two of us.” It’s not a lie.

“And he makes you happy?”

“Yeah.” Steve can’t suppress his smile, not that he would want to. ‘Happy’ feels like too small a word for everything Eddie makes him feel. Steve wants everyone to know how much he loves him, what a good Alpha he is, all the little things he does to make Steve feel safe and cared for. Despite their superficial differences, they understand each other in a way nobody else ever has. “Yeah, he does. I hope I make him happy, too.”

Dustin nods to himself. For a long moment, he’s quiet enough that Steve thinks he might have fallen asleep until he admits, “I was scared. For both of you.”

Steve blinks against the memory of Eddie, broken bottle in his hand, half-feral and snarling at one of their pups, smelling wrong and trembling in Steve’s arms. “Yeah. I was, too.”

“Me, too.” Eddie makes both of them jump when his hand settles on Dustin’s shoulder, brushing across Steve’s belly on the way.

“Jesus.” Steve tries to stifle his smile but it’s hard when Dustin is giggling into his armpit and Eddie is patting them both, clumsy with drowsiness. “Go back to sleep, you idiot.”

“Nooo,” he whines. “Two of my favorite people are here, and I don’t wa–” A massive yawn cuts him off mid-word. “Don’t wanna miss out on the action.”

They’ve all had more than enough action for one day, Steve thinks, but he gets Eddie’s desire to be a part of everything. It’s one of the things he loves about him. “I promise we’re not doing anything fun. Just rest, sweetheart.” He rubs his chin over the top of Eddie’s head, comforting and scent-marking him all at once.

“You’re gonna stay here, right?” Eddie sounds nervous and embarrassed about it.

This is why Steve never wanted to tell him about the Upside Down. He didn’t want Eddie to know that fear, the kind that makes darkness darker and silence louder and keeps you awake even while it drains you of any energy you had left. Now Eddie not only knows about it but has seen it, and there’s nothing Steve can do to fix it.

Before Steve can respond, Dustin snorts. “It’s his house, dipshit. Where else would he go?”

Part of Steve wants to be horrified but a much bigger part is relieved when Eddie starts to laugh. His punch-drunk giggles are so normal, like this is just another sleepover with the two of them huddled under Steve’s blankets, enjoying each other’s company too much to go to sleep.

“I’ll be here,” Steve reassures him anyway. “But feel free to kick Dustin out whenever you get sick of him.”

Dustin squawks, affronted, and Eddie laughs even harder and tucks his nose against Steve’s scent gland. Steve, feeling warm inside and out, pulls them both a little closer and lets their presence lull him to sleep.

[steddiebingo]

SPLASH INTO SUMMER WITH STEDDIE!

SIGN UPS NOW OPEN FOR SPLASH OF SUMMER MINI EVENT

This is a Summer themed mini event with four prompts. To complete this mini event, you must complete all of the prompt fills.  

Sign Ups: JUNE 16, 2025 - JUNE 29, 2025 Cards Released: July 1, 2025 Posting: July 1, 2025 - July 25, 2025 Cards Due: July 26, 2025 - July 29, 2025

Rules:

Authors must write at least 500 words per entry.

Artists are welcome to participate with one piece per prompt. 

No prompts can be combined on this card.

You can use a single entry for both a holiday prompt and your main bingo card.

–

INFO | FAQ | SCHEDULE | ASK | SIGN UP | SUBMIT A CARD

[steddiebingo]

Each one of my WIPs has been assigned an emoji, and if you would like to send me the emoji related to that story via an ask, I'll write a few sentences for that WIP. Sooooo a little change from the WIPs from last week as I have my @steddiebingo card and have a few fledgling ideas, I'm going to use combined prompts, and to not ruin the surprise totally I'll just include one I'm using for each :)

🤠 - Country Music

So far...Steve suffers an injury, and thankful runs into good ol' Wayne Munson to fix him up.

🌉 - Bridge

Prince Edward is bored and longs for adventure, turning the pages of a storybook, he's sees a familiar bridge illustrated, and goes to investigate.

|||👤||| - Crack

King of the Nerds Eddie Munson, lands in Claudia Henderson's training school for boys for a crime he didn't commit. If life on the inside wasn't bad enough, he's locked in there with Steve "Teardrop" Harrington, who took the wrap for him last time he was in trouble.

🎸 I Think I Could Have Been Someone

Sad Rockstar Steve x Photographer Eddie

No pressure tags: @felixir-of-moths, @hbyrde36, @pearynice, @sourw0lfs, @fkinkindagauche, @queenofshenanigans, @lyphyshard, @augustjustice, @eriquin, @vthx, @writing-kiki, @machtaholic, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, @tinytalkingtina, @turinspeachjam and anyone else who wants to

[steddiebingo]

The Siren

Based off of the 1900 piece, The Siren by John William Waterhouse.

Also available on AO3 or bsky

This fulfils my prompt for the @steddiebingo : Myth

Art Taglist: @hbyrde36, @pearynice, @firefly-party, @sidekick-hero

[steddiebingo]

Salty Lips Like Candy

written for the @steddiesongfics June prompt and as fill for the @steddiebingo prompt: mutual pining

song inspo: Summer Sweat by Hannah Cohen (with a hidden nod to Djo's song Potion) | wc: 2.500 | rated: M | tags: alternating pov, not actually unrequited crushes, sexual content, idiots in love, friends to lovers | also on ao3

   “I’m not gonna survive this. Tell Wayne I love him. Tell Dustin he can have all my DnD stuff and you... you can have whatever’s left of my weed. It’s hidden in the-“

   “Oh for fuck’s sake, Munson! Will you stop with the dramatics? It’s just a sunburn! You’re gonna live.”

    If I don’t strangle you with my own two hands, Steve mumbles to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose trying to calm his nerves.

Eddie has been whining ever since he woke up from the little nap he took by the pool. In the sun. Which Steve had explicitly warned him about.

He told him it was a bad idea to lie in the blazing sun unprotected, but did he listen? No. Of course not. Because underneath that pretty hair is a skull so thick, no reasonable advice – no matter how well-intentioned – gets through.

Now, Eddie’s back and shoulders are glowing bright red, and they hurt. Probably not quite as bad as Eddie lets on but it sucks either way, Steve knows it does. Had learned it the hard way and never made the same mistake twice.

Because unlike Eddie, he’s not a stubborn donkey. So, no. No pity there. He did that to himself.

   “It doesn’t look that bad. You’ll be fine in a few days. Once the burned skin peels off, you’ll be as good as new.”

Eddie’s eyes widen.

   “Wait, hold on. My skin will do what?”

He sounds genuinely distressed now and- okay. Maybe Steve does feel a bit sorry for him.

   “Why are you acting like this is news to you? Are you telling me this is the first time this has happened? How?”

There’s no way Eddie never had a sunburn before. That would be, like, a miracle or something. Because let’s be honest, Eddie Munson does not seem like the type of guy that takes good care of his skin. Not like- he doesn’t have bad skin. It’s actually unfair how good his skin looks despite the fact that he probably never used any cream or other products in his whole damn life.

Not the point, though. The point is-

   “It’s all your fault, Harrington!”

The accusation leaves him speechless for a moment because seriously, “What?”

   “Yeah, well, this never would’ve happened if I’d stayed in my dark room, where the sun can’t hurt me. And I’m only not because you invited me over and I-“

Eddie stops his tirade, teeth pressing into his bottom lip.

   “Oh excuse me for wanting to spend time with you! You dickhead!”

Steve throws his hands up in frustration and starts pacing from the counter to the fridge just to let off some steam.

This is ridiculous.

If Eddie doesn’t want to be here, why did he agree to come when Steve asked him if he wanted to hang out?

Didn’t he enjoy himself earlier? Steve sure as hell thought so. Thought it would be nice to spend the day together.

It’s so rare they get to be together alone, just the two of them. Where they can talk shit and be stupid without having to keep one eye on what the kids are up to, and Robin’s not there to make fun of him for being a apparently too obvious with his stupid, unrequited feelings.

Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe that’s why Eddie doesn’t want to be here. Why he-

   “Steve?”

A hand drops on his shoulder and when he blinks himself out of his spiralling thoughts, he finds Eddie looking at him with those soft, disarming eyes, and an apologetic smile on his lips.

   “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s obviously not your fault. And I’m glad you invited me- you have a fucking pool, man! The trailer doesn’t even have air-con. I’d be dying of a heatstroke right now if it wasn’t for you. You’re literally my saviour, Steve! Knight in shining armour and all that.”

Eddie shakes him lightly by the shoulder, and Steve can’t not laugh at his overdone speech.

   “You’re lucky I like you enough to put up with you,” Steve counters as nonchalantly as possible, not giving away just how much he likes him.

    Take that, Robin.

   “Still like me even if I’m being a big whiny baby about a sunburn?”

Eddie pouts, looking up through his stupidly long lashes, and- okay yeah, fine! Maybe Robin does have a point because Steve feels weak, unable to keep a straight face when Eddie’s looking at him like that. He wants to bite his cheeks. Or lick them. Press his mouth against those unfairly kissable looking lips.

    Fuck. Get a grip, Harrington.

   “Yeah, yeah. Now, do you want the lotion or the aloe gel? Both will sting a bit but it’ll cool your skin and you’ll feel much better.”

Steve grabs both bottles and holds them out for him to choose – that’s what they came inside for, after all, before Eddie started to make his last will.

   “Doesn’t matter, I’m not gonna be able to reach most of it anyway.”

Eddie turns over his shoulder, looking at the reflection of his back in the sliding door that leads from the kitchen to the backyard.

   “Well, yeah. That’s what I’m here for,” Steve answers matter-of-factly, ignoring the small but unsubtle tug in his gut.

This is not quite how he imagined getting his hands on Eddie’s body, but he’ll take it. It’s not like he’ll ever get a chance for more anyway.

When Eddie looks back at him, his face is painted with the same colour as his damaged skin, a flashing red that spreads from his nose right down to his bare chest.

   “If, uh, if you don’t mind,” Steve adds, suddenly unsure.

   “Y-yeah. That- that would be nice.”

Despite the undefined tension hanging thick in the air between them, Steve walks over to him, clutching both bottles like their weapons and he’s going to battle, buzzing with nerves.

   “Aloe?” he asks again, setting the lotion aside when Eddie nods.

He clicks the cap open, tips the bottle and lets its content drizzle into his left hand.

From the corner of his eyes, he can see Eddie watching him, dark eyes fixated on the translucent liquid collecting in Steve’s palm. Watching even more intently when Steve spreads the gel between his hands.

He seems nervous, biting his lip while his hands fiddle with the cords on his swim shorts, feet tip-tapping from left to right like he can’t stay still.

   “Turn around for me?” Steve asks and he hates how soft his voice sounds, how unsteady he moves when he closes the remaining distance between them. “Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

Eddie nods again and turns around like Steve asked him to. He hisses at the first contact of Steve’s hands with his neck, shoulders tensing up.

   “Doesn’t hurt, ‘s just cold.”

His words are a little slurred, and Steve worries that he’s lying, trying to act tough. But then he can feel him relax, shoulders dropping when Steve continues, carefully spreading the cooling gel over hot skin.

   “Feel okay?”

Eddie’s head falls forward before he answers with a sigh, the sound bordering on a moan, and Steve has to bite his tongue not to mirror him.

It’s hard to focus on the steady movement of his hands, hard not to let his mind misinterpret Eddie’s reactions to his touch. How he squirms slightly when Steve’s fingers tickle his sides, letting out these soft little puffs of air at every gentle stroke along his spine.

This shouldn’t feel so intimate, but it does, the way Eddie leans into him, his body relaxed, his skin soft under Steve’s palms. How he hums contently when Steve reaches the small of his back, fingertips dragging along the waistline of his shorts, itching to dip lower.

A real torture on his heart that flutters violently, not understanding that this isn’t what it so desperately longs for.

   “All done,” Steve says, not without regret, when all of Eddie’s back is covered under a soothing layer of aloe, that’ll offer relief for his irritated skin.

He steps back to give Eddie some room, instantly missing the contact now that his arms are hanging useless down his sides.

The blush on Eddie’s face is still visible when he turns, and his chest is heaving, almost as if he’s a little breathless, when he lets out a small giggle.

   “Fuck, Steve. You’re like a witch with healing hands. It already feels so much better.”

In response, like a dork, Steve lifts his hands and wiggles his fingers in front of him, and is instantly hit with a wave of shame. He tries to laugh it off, acting casual, annoyed.

   “Next time, let me do that before you get sunburned.”

Eddie stops mid eye-roll, smile faltering “Ugh, fuck. I can’t sleep on my back like that.”

   “Then... don’t?”

   “But what if I turn in my sleep? It’ll hurt and I’ll wake up and then I’ll be grouchy all day.”

Steve chuckles, can’t not when Eddie’s being his over-dramatic self.

   “You’re such a baby.”

He laughs even more when Eddie crosses his arms before his chest and frowns.

   “Hey! Stop being mean.”

It’s just an act, Steve knows that. The problem is, that it’s working on him. Eddie is cute when he’s fake-sulking like that, and Steve can’t handle cute right now. Not with his whole system still running on overdrive from hearing Eddie fucking moan because he enjoyed Steve’s hands on his body so much. That’s... a lot to take in, okay?

He needs a distraction, or he might do something stupid.

   “Come on, let’s grab a beer and sit in the shade. No more sun for you, mister.”

Two weeks later, Eddie is back at Steve’s place. They’re having a pool party, grown-ups only, and Eddie promised to help with preparations.

He’s stacking bottles in the refrigerator when he notices movement behind him, finds Steve standing there with a grin on his face and a bottle of sunscreen in his hand.

   “No excuses this time,” he says and Eddie doesn’t dare to argue; he’s learned his lesson.

Once he’s done, he follows Steve outside, who sits down on a recliner, patting the empty space between his parted thighs.

Eddie swallows hard, feels his insides tie into knots, heart beating rapidly in his chest, when he settles down in front of him.

He should’ve just waited and asked Robin to help him out. Or Jonathan. Anyone else would’ve been the better choice, because none of the others make him feel like Steve does.

It’s so stupid, but it’s hard to stay cool when the guy you’ve been having a tragically miserable crush on forever, is sitting so close. Dressed in nothing but shorts, heat radiating off his unfairly perfect body that must’ve been blessed by the sun god himself.

   “Take off your shirt,” Steve tells him, and Eddie thinks he might combust.

    Keep it together, Munson. You survived this once, you’ll survive it again.

Only this time, it’s so much worse.

Because last time, Eddie could focus on the bearable but omnipresent stinging sensation that mixed with the soothing touch of Steve’s hands.

But now, with his skin unblemished, Eddie is committed to the full force of how good it feels. And if he thought the noises he involuntarily made last time, where embarrassing, then whatever sound breaks free from his throat now, makes him want to die on the spot.

It sounds downright pornographic, the way he moans when Steve’s thumbs press into space between his shoulder blades, kneading his flesh with strong hands, smoothly following the shape his spine, teasing fingertips reaching around his waist, dipping almost all the way down to his waistline.

It goes on and on, with no mercy on Eddie’s weak heart that tells him, delusional as it is, that this isn’t about putting sunscreen on him anymore. Can’t be, because Eddie’s skin has already soaked up all of it. Still, Steve keeps going, massaging Eddie’s back, hands gliding over his skin, working the knots in his shoulders.

Eddie’s melting, not just into the touch, it’s like his whole body is suddenly made of molten wax. He feels hot, and he’s not sure if it’s from the sun or from the burning wildfire of emotions that’s raging inside of him.

It’s too much, but he doesn’t want it to stop. Wants to tell Steve how fucking good it feels. Wants to feel more of him. Wants to feel him forever.

Another breathy moan breaks the silence between them, but to Eddie’s surprise, the source isn’t his own mouth.

Steve’s suddenly so close, his breath hot on the side of his neck, chest pressing against Eddie’s back.

   “Fuck, Eddie. I’m-”

    Oh.

    O-holy shit.

He can feel it. Unmistakably.

Steve is hard.

Rubbing against him with shallow movements, barely there but enough to send him into spiral of overwhelm and arousal and- fuck!

   “Steve.”

The name spills into a desperate little whine when Steve wraps a hand around his throat, thumb pressing against his jawline, forcing his head to turn to the side, awkwardly twisting to meet Steve’s lips in a kiss.

Eddie thinks he might’ve fallen asleep again. Thinks he must be dreaming when Steve’s mouth connects with the sweaty skin on the side of his neck, sucking, licking, biting.

But he can taste the salt on Steve’s lips, somehow still sweet like candy, when they collide again and again while their hands have developed a mind of their own, searching, finding, moving where they’re both aching for touch.

Their bodies now a tangle of limbs, unsteady on the recliner that wasn’t made to defy such need but holds up anyway. Barely. Hinges groaning to the sound of unrestrained lust, shaking with the violent tremble of two people slowly coming undone. Every hip thrust welcomed by a tight fist threatening to cause a collapse. Not of the recliner, but it’s a fall nonetheless. Down into the pit where desire meets the unison echo of a four-letter word confession.

Choking on each other’s breath, Steve follows him over the edge. It’s over too soon, and not soon enough, because God knows when the others will arrive and burst the bubble Eddie finds himself floating in.

   “Can we-“ Steve starts, still a little breathless, “Can we come back to this? Later? When everyone’s gone?”

His voice is only a shy whisper, like he’s scared Eddie might pull away.

Like it isn’t obvious that he’s all in.

   “I meant what I said, Steve. I want you. Now. Later. Forever.”

He doesn’t say love this time, not because he doesn’t feel it in every fibre of his being, only because he wants to do this right, take his time to pour it all out, let his heart speak through his body. Let Steve know he wants this more than anything.

   “Kiss me again?” Steve asks, and Eddie is more than happy to oblige.

[steddiebingo]

SPLASH INTO SUMMER WITH STEDDIE!

SIGN UPS NOW OPEN FOR SPLASH OF SUMMER MINI EVENT

This is a Summer themed mini event with four prompts. To complete this mini event, you must complete all of the prompt fills.  

Sign Ups: JUNE 16, 2025 - JUNE 29, 2025 Cards Released: July 1, 2025 Posting: July 1, 2025 - July 25, 2025 Cards Due: July 26, 2025 - July 29, 2025

Rules:

Authors must write at least 500 words per entry.

Artists are welcome to participate with one piece per prompt. 

No prompts can be combined on this card.

You can use a single entry for both a holiday prompt and your main bingo card.

INFO | FAQ | SCHEDULE | ASK | SIGN UP | SUBMIT A CARD

[steddiebingo]

SPLASH INTO SUMMER WITH STEDDIE!

SIGN UPS NOW OPEN FOR SPLASH OF SUMMER MINI EVENT

This is a Summer themed mini event with four prompts. To complete this mini event, you must complete all of the prompt fills.  

Sign Ups: JUNE 16, 2025 - JUNE 29, 2025 Cards Released: July 1, 2025 Posting: July 1, 2025 - July 25, 2025 Cards Due: July 26, 2025 - July 29, 2025

Rules:

Authors must write at least 500 words per entry.

Artists are welcome to participate with one piece per prompt. 

No prompts can be combined on this card.

You can use a single entry for both a holiday prompt and your main bingo card.

INFO | FAQ | SCHEDULE | ASK | SIGN UP | SUBMIT A CARD

[steddiebingo]

Baptism of Fire

Rated: E

Words: 5,577

Tags: Pirate AU; Pirate Captain Eddie; Jason Carver being an asshole; Explicit sexual content; Blowjobs; Anal sex; Multiple orgasms; Power bottom Steve

Notes: A little while ago, I celebrated 500 user subscriptions on AO3 and did a little raffle for a one-shot request. This is the result, as requested by the lovely @sourw0lfs. She asked for some more pirate fun, featuring either crime or debauchery, and I said "why not both". So here's both! I hope you all enjoy! 🏴‍☠️♥️

This is also, incidentally, my first fill for round two of the @steddiebingo (for the prompt "Power Bottom")

Carver laughs. “You think we came unprepared? Please. My crew is far superior to yours, both in numbers and weapons, and you sailed right into my trap. Now, what do you say? Dead or alive, which one of the two should we make it? My personal preference will probably come unsurprising to you.” 

His sword slides free with a metallic whir. 

“Wait!” 

Carver freezes, then looks around, face full of confused surprise. 

Steve must say the feeling’s mutual, because he doesn’t recall speaking or standing. Still, that was very clearly his own voice just now. And still, here he is, mounting the taffrail of the Hellfire and jumping onto the deck of the other ship. As he walks closer, the confusion in Carver’s eyes morphs into hesitation, and finally recognition. 

“Wait a minute,” he mutters. “You’re the Harrington boy. The Governor’s kid.”

Read it all on AO3

More Steddie Bingo

[steddiebingo]

A kit and a movie

Blanket + Future for @steddiebingo

Steddie + Johnny (Punk Guy) Trans Eddie Munson 2.9 K

Steve Harrington it's part of this relationship, even if he feels out for some reason or another. But a call that evening and a list for a care package would make him open and talk about it. Also, just some care and fluff for the boys.

TW: Mentruation/Period talk. Yeah, my Eddie bleeds

   “Look at my hot sailor!”

“Oh, your golden retriever arrived.” Yun laughed, taking a book from the shelves. “I will be reading some Stephen King while you two make out.”

Johnny laughed as he saw Steve smiling.

“Well, how's my Steven the King.” He sighed.  “Because God knows, I'm being so strong in not dragging you to the office and bend you over the desk.”

“My day was totally okay, and then not, and now is kind of horny.” Steve chuckled. “Save that for tomorrow or next week.”

“And why am I doing such a long time of celibacy, may I ask?” 

Steve now seemed worried, coming close to his boyfriend. 

“Eddie.”

“What about our pretty boy?”

“He isn't feeling that great and called me crying.”

“What?” Johnny frowned. “Did someone hurt him? Do I need to begin digging a grave?”

“Not without my help. But no, no one did.” Steve made a hand gesture to calm him down...

Keep Reading on AO3

Want to read/see more of the bingo?

[steddiebingo]

Just for clarification (maybe I'm just too stupid to find the rule for that one): If the prompt is an object or something similar, does the story have to be centered around the object or is it enough if it appears?

The prompts are meant to be vague and up for interpretation! If your prompt is chair, it counts if the focus is around a specific chair (say moving out issues? Finding the right chair?) or if a character pulls out a chair for someone else. For card, it could be the actual object OR carding your fingers through someone’s hair!

There are no rules about the prompts, including those that are song titles or bands, as long as the intent is to include that prompt.

So yes, an object can be the focus or just a detail within the prompt fill. It’s up to you!

[steddiebingo]

SPLASH INTO SUMMER WITH STEDDIE!

SIGN UPS NOW OPEN FOR SPLASH OF SUMMER MINI EVENT

This is a Summer themed mini event with four prompts. To complete this mini event, you must complete all of the prompt fills.  

Sign Ups: JUNE 16, 2025 - JUNE 29, 2025 Cards Released: July 1, 2025 Posting: July 1, 2025 - July 25, 2025 Cards Due: July 26, 2025 - July 29, 2025

Rules:

Authors must write at least 500 words per entry.

Artists are welcome to participate with one piece per prompt. 

No prompts can be combined on this card.

You can use a single entry for both a holiday prompt and your main bingo card.

INFO | FAQ | SCHEDULE | ASK | SIGN UP | SUBMIT A CARD

[steddiebingo]

SPLASH INTO SUMMER WITH STEDDIE!

SIGN UPS NOW OPEN FOR SPLASH OF SUMMER MINI EVENT

This is a Summer themed mini event with four prompts. To complete this mini event, you must complete all of the prompt fills.  

Sign Ups: JUNE 16, 2025 - JUNE 29, 2025 Cards Released: July 1, 2025 Posting: July 1, 2025 - July 25, 2025 Cards Due: July 26, 2025 - July 29, 2025

Rules:

Authors must write at least 500 words per entry.

Artists are welcome to participate with one piece per prompt. 

No prompts can be combined on this card.

You can use a single entry for both a holiday prompt and your main bingo card.

INFO | FAQ | SCHEDULE | ASK | SIGN UP | SUBMIT A CARD