sunmoonandeddie

[sunmoonandeddie]

The note shows up in Eddie's mailbox cubby on Valentine's Day.

It's nothing fancy, loopy cursive handwriting on lined paper:

"I know this is probably silly but I can't go another day without saying it, and today seems appropriate for this kind of confession. Seeing you in the morning is the best part of my day. You're so gorgeous it leaves me breathless. I hope you don't mind if I don't leave my name. Just wanted you to know that you're beautiful."

His eyes fill with tears that he blinks back, a goofy smile stretching his mouth wide.

"You good there, Munson?" Robin Buckley asks.

"Oh, yup, yeah, all good." He laughs. "Just got one of those 'you're my favorite teacher Mr. Munson!' notes."

He squeezes the letter to his chest before slipping it in his pocket.

---

The worst thing about Eddie's new job is that someway, somehow, Steve-fucking-Harrington works here too. PE teacher, JV basketball coach, of-fucking-course. Once a douchebag jock, always a douchebag jock. What makes it all worse is that he's still the prettiest guy Eddie's ever seen.

---

The first week of March, there's a commotion in the hallway that has him rushing out of his room, ready to breakup a fight. He finds Harrington already there, holding Dustin Henderson and Will Byers by their shoulders. Troy Walsh and James Dante stand across from them, wearing matching snarls.

Of course Harrington is picking on little nerd kids; he knew it. But before he steps forwards to break it up, Steve speaks, voice low and angry. "You want to tell me what happened here, Troy?"

"Byers tripped. He really should watch where he's going," Troy says. James laughs.

Steve's glare goes even more icy, more disdainful (it's so fucking hot, Eddie hates it). "You want to take that again? And try being honest this time, or you're suspend from the team."

Troy splutters for long enough that Eddie finally notices Will's stricken face, the sketchpad and snapped colored pencils littering the linoleum.

"I saw you take those things from Will, and unfortunately, I'll have to call your parents and you will be responsible for purchasing a new sketchbook and pencils. You're also benched for the next four games."

The boys shout, but when Steve raises a hand they quiet immediately. "You want to complain more, or do you want it to be five games?"

"No, sir," they answer before scampering off.

Harrington faces Dustin and Will. "You boys okay?" he asks them.

"We're good, Mr. H," Dustin answers.

"Glad to hear it." Steve begins collecting Will's ruined belongings, stops to study one of the drawings.

"This is really good, Will."

Will flushes. "Thanks. It's my character for dnd,"

"Dnd? That's that game that El and Max are always talking about? With the character sheets and the dice?"

"Yeah!" says Dustin. "You know it?"

Steve's smile is a little bashful, and it tugs at Eddie's heart in a way he has to ignore. "Not much. Just from what the girls have said. You want to tell me about it?"

"Really?" Their eyes light up.

"Really. You can stop by the gym during lunch. Only if you want to, though."

"Cool," says Dustin.

He pats them both on the shoulder, and they hurry away, leaving Steve and Eddie suddenly alone.

Eddie should head back to his class, hasn't been needed in this situation at all, really, but before he can disappear, Steve spots him and his eyes widen.

"You need something, Munson?" Steve's cheeks go a faint pink.

He shakes his head, feels wrong-footed. "Uh, that was really cool what you did just there."

"They're really good kids," Steve says. "I know them a little. Used to babysit El Hopper." He slides his hands into the pockets of his khakis and, seriously, fuck Harrington for looking like that in a pair of Dockers.

"Babysitter, Harrington? Never thought I'd see the day. Or that you'd be the one defending a bunch of nerds," Eddie says. He means it teasing, but Steve's face warps into a frown.

"Y--yeah, I guess. I mean. I'm trying not to be that guy anymore, and Robin's really helped--"

"Shit, man, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant, at all--"

"--I feel terrible about all that shit I pulled back in school. That King Steve stuff? I was awful and you didn't deserve--"

"Steve!" Eddie cuts him off. "I forgive you. For everything." He looks down at his shoes. "For all I didn't want to believe it, you really have changed."

They're both pink faced now, avoiding each other's eyes. "Thanks," Steve says. "I should get going, but--for the future-- I really wouldn't mind--um--trying to be friends."

The grin that passes across Eddie's face is huge. "Yeah, Harrington, I'd like that."

Eddie has to run to make it to his classroom on time. He passes Dustin and Will and the rest of their gaggle of friends, rushing them along, but forgets all about it as he steps in front of his third period juniors.

---

He and Steve are...friendly now. They chat, they joke, they share smiles that have Eddie's heart beating too fast even though it's not like that. Turns out Steve is kind and funny (a little bit of a bitch too, but in a way that ties Eddie's stomach in knots), and a hell of a teacher.

---

His freshman are in small groups, peer-reviewing an essays, when Max Mayfield catches his eye. She's one of his favorite students and absolute trouble.

"What's up, Mayfield." He asks.

"Are you friends with Mr. Harrington?" She asks.

He chuckles. "Sure, Max, we're friendly enough. Why?"

She narrows her eyes, like she knows he's not being totally honest. "Oh, nothing. He just talks about you all the time."

He's blushing horribly and Max, and all of her friends, smirk up at him. "He does?" He chokes out.

"Mmhmm," Lucas Sinclair says. "Says he thinks you're really cool."

"Definitely one of the best teachers here," Mike Wheeler adds.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, very funny, guys. How're your essays going?"

They answer, but before Eddie goes to help another group, Will says, "he really does like you, Mr. Munson. A lot."

El nods earnestly up at him. "It is true," she says. "I know him."

"Thanks, kids. I'll keep that in mind." He gives them a smile, tries not to let their words get to him. When he reaches the next group, though, he notices his hands are shaking.

---

Gifts start turning up in Eddie's cubby. It starts with a bag of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from his favorite bakery. There's a small note that says "from your secret admirer," on the packaging. Every two weeks or so, something new shows up in his little mailbox; a woven friendship bracelet, a yellow rose, Hershey kisses, a delicately painted dnd figure that gives Eddie a small crisis because it's his own bard character, an Iron Maiden cassette, a bag of dice that almost brings him to genuine tears.

Eventually, he gets another note. This one is typed and reads: "I would love to have coffee with you 11am this Saturday at the Cafe on Main Street."

---

He walks into the cafe at 10:50am, wearing his favorite pair of ripped black jeans and a burgundy button-down, his hair pulled into a loose bun. He doesn't recognize anyone there.

Eddie gets in line, studies the menu, and the little bell above the door rings. He whips towards the sound to find none other than Steve Harrington in little wire rim glasses, a butter colored sweater, and jeans the man must have painted on, Jesus Christ. Honestly, the whole thing is enough to give Eddie a coronary (and to, embarrassingly, chub up in his own tight jeans).

"Steve?" He asks. He's overwhelmed with the (stupid, stupid) hope that it's been Harrington all along. "What are you doing here?"

"Henderson asked me to meet him. He around?"

"Uh, no?" Eddie feels heat creeping up his throat.

Steve shakes his head, as though he expected as much. "You alone? We could grab drink."

"I can't believe this." Eddie hides his face in his hands, knows it's gone horrifyingly crimson.

"What's wrong?"

"My secret admirer told me to be here now, so we could meet," Eddie's misery slices through his words. "I'm such an idiot."

"I--your--what?" Steve stammers.

He gathers himself enough to look Steve in his hazel eyes and ask, "I'm assuming it wasn't you leaving notes and gifts for me at work?"

And he expects Steve to say no. To laugh and ask why he'd ever do something like that, but instead, instead he flushes a deep red. "O-only one note."

"What?"

"I, uh," Steve clears his throat. "I left you a note. On Valentine's Day. I--we weren't friends yet, and I wanted you to know how much I liked you. It's --uh--it's pretty silly, huh? Robin's--"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts. He's going to tell Steve that he reads the note often enough that he has parts memorized; that it's the kindest thing anyone has done for him, but what he says instead is, "Dustin Henderson told you to meet him here at 11?"

"Yeah. Said he had something to show me."

Eddie remembers running into Will and Dustin and their friends that day in the hall, the weird conversation in class, the dice and the miniature. Something must click for Steve at the same time because his mouth drops, blush getting somehow deeper.

"Oh my god. Henderson! I'm gonna kill him. They figured out I had a crush on you."

"They WHAT?" Eddie says, loud enough that several looks are aimed their way.

"I'm so, so sorry, Eddie. Holy shit, this is so humiliating. You have to believe me, I had no idea they were doing this. God, I'm really starting to think it is possible to die from embarrassment."

"You have a crush on me," Eddie says instead of any of the dozens of helpful things he could say.

"Um. Yes?"

Eddie takes a deep breath, straightens his spine, and asks, "You wanna have coffee with me?"

"I'd really like that." Steve's return smile is so beautiful, it makes Eddie weak.

---

Eddie Munson is making out with Steve Harrington in the backseat of Steve's BMW. He and Steve spent the day together. They've kissed for so long that the sun has set, both of their lips are swollen, their skin red from stubble, and Eddie is nowhere near ready for the night to end.

Steve breaks away, gently pulling their mouths apart, but arms still tight around Eddie. "Hey, what kind of gifts were they giving you anyway? The kids?"

"Oh," Eddie blushes. "Uh, cookies, a dnd mini, lots of candy, a set of dice."

"Oh my god," Steve says, he pulls a little more away. "Oh my god, I'm going to kill her, Jesus Christ."

"Who are are you killing, sweetheart?"

Steve groans. "Robin. She was helping them. We found a set of dice at this little bookstore and she told me to get them for you, and--" he breaks off with a helpless, frustrated noise.

Eddie doesn't mean to, but he starts to giggle.

"It's not funny!" Steve says.

That only makes Eddie laugh harder. "Your best friend," he squeaks. "And a group of literal children set us up. That's hilarious, Harrington."

Steve's mouth drops and for a second Eddie thinks he'll be upset, but then he's giggling too, his whole face crumpling into it.

Steve pulls Eddie close once the laughter subsides, his eyes trained on Eddie's lips.

"We could pretend we didn't get together," Eddie manages to say.

"What, like, make them think they failed?"

"Yeah. We could tell them I got stood up, but you and I hung out. Had a bro day."

Steve giggles again, and it's the best sound Eddie's ever heard. "I'm absolutely on board with this plan, but you should definitely kiss me some more."

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, his voice low. "And what'll I get out of it?"

"Why don't you get over here and see."

As if Eddie could turn down an invite that enticing. He slides a hand behind Steve's head, drawing him in, and they're kissing like they never stopped. It only been a few hours, but Eddie knows--without a doubt--he's already head over heels.

[sunmoonandeddie]

Just before Christmas, Hawkins has a huge snowstorm--biggest they've seen in decades. Mr. Merrill finds a sleigh, cleans it up, starts offering rides along the same path as the Haunted Hayride he runs at the pumpkin patch each October. And none of that should effect Eddie at all, except Steve Harrington calls him up and says the kids all want to go, Robin and Nancy too, and maybe Eddie wants to come? And Eddie says yes even though he absolutely does not want to. Doesn't like the cold; only likes watching the snow as it falls, has no interest in being out in it; and has his suspicions about horses when they're staring at him right in the eye (they're too big and they kick hard and they have all those teeth).

He says yes because Steve Harrington and his pretty hair and his plump pink lips and his tantalizing constellation of moles have Eddie's heart in a chokehold. And when the pretties boy in Hawkins calls to ask you to go for a sleigh ride with him (plus his platonic soulmate who's dating his ex-girlfriend and the seven kids you co-parent), you don't say no.

It's not a date. Eddie knows. But it's a chance to be close, to look, to laugh, to pretend that friendship proximity is enough.

As soon as Eddie walks into Steve's house, the man himself is tsk-ing. "That's what you're wearing? You'll freeze!"

"I hate winter, you know that!" Eddie pouts.

Steve tuts, extra mom as he tugs Eddie's leather jacket tighter around his neck, and Eddie tries to not let their proximity make him blush.

With a shake of his head, Steve turns, starts upstairs. "Be right back."

And he's not lying, he's bouncing in front of Eddie in less than a minute, hands full of red yarn.

"Wha--" Eddie can't get the words out before Steve jams a pair of fuzzy red ear muffs over his curls, wrapping a matching scarf gently around his neck.

All of that is astonishing in itself, but Eddie swears, swears, that Steve's eyes linger on his lips before darting back up to look him in the eye. And that the tips of Steve's ears glow pink.

"Here," Steve thrusts the red mittens into Eddie's hands. "You can do these yourself."

Under normal circumstances, Eddie would say something over-the-top flirty, too silly to be serious, but this has all thrown him for a loop, so he only manages a , "th-thanks." Then, Steve turns away, putting on his own, bright yellow winter gear. He grabs a buffalo plaid tote bag (such a mom), and before Eddie can ask what, exactly, Steve has in there, they're out the door to collect the kids and Robin and Nancy.

❄️❄️❄️❄️

Eddie knows, now, what was in the tote. A fucking thermos full of fucking hot chocolate, because Steve Harrington is infuriating and perfect, and Eddie is so fucking gone, and Steve is straight, and life is full of unfairness but this is almost too much.

He shivers and pulls the scarf that Steve (so carefully, tenderly) wrapped around his neck tighter.

The kids are all done with their ride, running through the wide open fields now, throwing snowballs and half-heartedly trying to shape snow bricks for a house. Nance and Rob are on theirs, and it's just Steve and Eddie, waiting their turn, and of course it's together. The kids all wanted to go in their group and obviously the girlfriends deserved the one-on-one time (each with lovingly poured paper cups of hot chocolate, of course), and Eddie couldn't leave Steve solo, so. It's just the two of them.

The sleigh pulls back up, and the girls, giggling pink, jump out. They rush away, leaving Eddie and Steve with Farmer Merrill and the two horses hitched to the sleigh, none of whom bother to look at the boys waiting their turn.

"Well?" Merrill asks.

"Ready, Harrington?"

"I'm not the one afraid of horses, Munson."

"Hey, I didn't say afraid," but he doesn't get to finish, because Steve climbs up to sit on the bench, patting the open space next to him.

Eddie gets in, and doesn't want to admit it but he's charmed and by more than just Steve. The sleigh is painted a deep hunter green with gold accenting, there are fucking jingle bells on the horse harnesses, and thick fleece plaid blankets piled high, so that riders can keep warm.

As soon as Eddie sits, Steve pulls the blankets over their laps. With a snap of the reigns, the horses start forward and Steve pours them hot chocolate. And goddamnit, Eddie's in love and he wants to hate this so much, it's so twee and sweet and unintentionally romantic and he adores it and the gorgeous boy sitting next to him.

He's worked himself into a good grouch about it, but then they make their way into open farmland and Farmer Merrill snaps the reigns again and the horses start to trot. Eddie shrieks with glee as the sleigh glides through the snow, and he fucking giggles, which makes Steve laugh too.

"Told you you'd love it," he says.

Eddie would argue, but Steve's eyes flash bright with happiness; the tip of his nose and his cheekbones glowing pink, and Eddie wants to kiss every spot of cold on that perfect face. He wants it so badly he has to look away, can't deal with the low tug of want in his gut.

They slip from the field into the forest, horses slowing to a more sedate pace. The trees aren't so close here, and there are enough pine and evergreen, bright with life, to make it beautiful and not barren.

Steve makes a noise, a little sigh, a happy one, that has Eddie turn to see. The other boy's face is upturned towards the sky, the trees; snowflakes, knocked loose by the light breeze, nestle in his coifed chestnut hair, dusting against his red cheeks. Eddie's world begins and ends here, with this man, in this moment.

"It's beautiful," Steve says.

"Yeah," Eddie agrees. His voice comes out all wrong, eyes never leaving the man beside him.

Steve turns, finds Eddie's eyes on him. Eddie watches as Steve connects the dots, as his eyebrows raise, and he flushes red.

"I'm sorry," Eddie cringes, looks down at remnants of hot chocolate in his paper cup.

Steve doesn't say anything, and Eddie wonders how much it will hurt to jump from the sleigh, how long it will take him to get back home walking from here.

"Eds," Steve says. Finally. "Look at me?"

Eddie can't deny Steve anything, but fear grapples at his throat. He raises his eyes, expecting anger or disgust or any number of horrible things, but he doesn't expect the hope burning in Steve's face.

Holding eye contact, Steve's hand finds Eddie's under the blanket, wrapping together as best they can in mittens.

"Is this okay?" Steve asks.

"Yeah," Eddie nods. His blush is hot enough to melt all the snow in the county.

They smile at each other; Eddie stopped breathing miles ago, but finds he doesn't need the air anymore.

The sleigh slides through the snow with a hissing crunch, accompanied by jingle bells and the snow-muffled clomp of horses hooves. They're perfectly alone, Farmer Merrill paying them no mind, so when Steve's free hand brushes against Eddie's jaw, he leans into the touch.

It's easy to close the distance between them. And this time, when Steve's eyes linger on his mouth, Eddie knows it's on purpose. His eyes drift closed right as their lips slot together in the sweetest kiss Eddie's ever had. He wants to lick at Steve's mouth, bite at his pretty, perfect lips, but he figures they have time for that; time for them to explore and learn each other. For now, when Eddie thought he'd never get this at all, the soft brush of their mouths together is enough.

They pull apart, after a few too-short minutes, knowing the ride is about to end, but they keep their hands clasped under the blankets.

"Still hate the winter?" Steve asks as the horses stop.

"Don't push your luck, Harrington," Eddie scowls.

Steve just smiles at him, all charming and knowing and hot.

The other man jumps from the sleigh, and Eddie allows the grin he's been holding back to slide across his face.

And maybe, yeah, with Steve Harrington, the winter's not so bad.

[sunmoonandeddie]

Steve has a problem. Not a big problem--not an Upside Down-sized problem--but still. A problem. In the form of Eddie Munson. And not the person Eddie Munson, who is second only to Robin in the hierarchy of Steve's heart, but his feelings in regard to one Eddie Munson. Namely, his enormous, devastating, gay crush on the guy.

And he knows, okay, he knows Eddie is gay, but that doesn't mean he wants Steve. Eddie is probably into other metalheads or dnd nerds. What could Steve, with his sports and his polo shirts, possibly have to offer?

He's coping, though. Or, at least, he thought he was until the Family Video phone rings and Jonathan invites them to the New Year's Eve party he and Argyle are throwing at their new apartment.

"We have to make a no-date pact." He tells Robin as soon as the phone is back in the cradle.

"Or you could just ask Eddie."

"You could just ask Nancy." He raises an eyebrow.

She lets out a slow breath. "Yeah, okay. No-date pact. I'm down."

It's just as easy to get Nancy and Eddie on board. Nancy just laughs and says "yeah, like I'd bring a date to the party my ex-boyfriend is hosting with his new boyfriend. How you do you even start to explain that dynamic?"

And Eddie snorts right in Steve's face (it's not cute, it's not), says, "Right, cause my dating pool in Hawkins, Indiana is just ripe with guys who want to ring in the New Year with me."

Steve wants to say that he would be that guy, happily, giddily, but he can't risk blowing up his second most important friendship like that, not when Eddie's never given a fraction of a hint that he wants Steve too.

But that's his problem solved, right? The four of them aren't bringing dates. Easy-peasy.

Unfortunately, Steve's life hasn't ever worked out like that, and the party turns out to not be only their little end of the world crew and a handful of people Jon knows from his grocery store job, but an actual motherfucking party.

It takes almost ten minutes for him and Robin to navigate through the sea of strangers to find Jon and Argyle handing out solo cups in the kitchen.

"Who are all these people?" He shouts over the pounding music, nothing like Steve's ever heard.

"Argyle got a job at the record store down the street," Jon yells.

"Co-workers." Argyle nods. "And a few of their friends."

"A few, right."

"The more the merrier. Right, my dude?"

"Sure." Steve takes a cup. "You seen Eddie around?"

"Living room, last time I looked." Jonathan answers.

"See you around?" Robin asks.

"At least meet up for the ball drop," Argyle answers.

They push their way into the cramped living room, and Steve searches for that familiar cloud of hair, the ripped black jeans. It takes a minute just for the sheer amount of bodies pressed into the small space, and when he sees him Eddie's--

He's standing against a wall, next to the stereo (of course), but there's someone with him. Someone who is tall and leanly muscled in a way that Steve isn't. Someone with long hair pushed back from his forehead. Someone with facial piercings in places Steve didn't even know you could pierce and tattoos and a chain hanging from his worn blue jeans and a bandana in his back pocket, just like Eddie.

And Eddie he's--he's gazing up at this dude with clear stars in his brown doe eyes, body angling towards the other man like he can't help but push more into his orbit.

Steve turns hard, Robin colliding with his side. "Steve, what the--oh."

"I hate New Year's Eve," Steve sighs, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It's always been the kind of holiday that is high on expectation and low on follow-through.

"C'mon, I think I spotted Nance over by the bedroom."

He lets Robin guide him across the room, steadfastly not looking back at where Eddie is very obviously finding himself a date. It's okay, Steve reasons. It's okay because that was obviously the kind of guy Eddie would be into it. He knew he had, like, no chance. He shouldn't be disappointed. He shouldn't.

The evening slips away in the shove of people, in the solo cup that manages to always be full in his hand, and he tries as hard as he can to ignore the way Robin and Nancy start sharing the same space.

So much for the no-date pact. He would laugh if a sort of deep loneliness wasn't seeping into his bones.

There's a girl, though, across the room. She's in a short dress and glances at Steve from under hooded eyelids. He could make a move; could have someone to kiss at midnight; have someone just for the night. But then--his heart makes a pathetic patter--Eddie.

Eddie who is practically in that stranger's lap.

He goes out for a cigarette.

When he comes back inside, it's five minutes til midnight and Nancy and Robin are dancing slow and sweet to a song that is neither.

He's happy for them, almost incandescent with it, but the loneliness sinks deeper, reaches marrow, especially after he fails to find Eddie in the crowd.

Steve thinks it might be time to give the whole failed endeavor up for good, but Jonathan and Argyle, both in tiny 1987 novelty top hats, appear at his side.

"Stevie-boy!" Argyle bellows. He lifts Steve at the waist, twirling him, and Steve laughs despite himself.

"Keeping busy?" He asks.

Jonathan pounds him on the back, just a little too hard.

A guest yells from deep in the apartment, "one minute to midnight!" and the music turns off, the TV tuned to Dick Clark and turned up.

Nancy and Robin find their way over, Robin mouthing "sorry," on her way. He pulls her into a side-hug; he'll never begrudge her any happiness, even on his worst day.

From across the room, there's a crash, a short yelp, and then a familiar head of fuzzy brown curls makes its way to them.

"Sorry, sorry." Eddie apologizes as he shoves through the other guests.

"Hi, guys!" He beams at them, cheeks flushed. Steve looks away so he doesn't have to think about how beautiful Eddie is; about how he's not the one who made him blush so pretty.

The countdown on the screen reaches 30 seconds, and the party goers start chanting.

"What happened to--?" Steve can't help but asking.

"Psh, that dude? He's a punk. Plus, I couldn't imagine ringing in 1987 without you guys by my side."

Steve blushes and rolls his eyes. "Sap." He knocks his hip into Eddie's.

"You love it," Eddie wraps him in a loose hold.

The count is down to 10, the ball almost dropped, Jonathan and Argyle and Nancy and Robin making soft eyes at each other.

"What's going on in that head of yours, sweetheart?" Eddie knocks his head gently against Steve's.

"It's nothing."

"You're pouting." Eddie mimics him with a poked out lip.

The count is down to 5.

"Fuck, I just--I wanted to have someone to kiss at midnight, you know?"

The ball drops, the year changes over, the room cheers. His coupled up friends cling to each other in soft, joyous kisses.

Eddie's eyes flick to their friends, to the guests, all kissing and embracing and celebrating, then back to Steve.

With two careful fingers, Eddie lifts Steve's chin, makes it so he can't look away.

"Fuck it," Eddie says. He leans forward, kisses Steve with soft authority.

And Steve just--he just fucking--crumbles into it. He makes a soft noise, curls his fists into Eddie's t-shirt.

Eddie's hands work their way into his hair, pulling him closer. Steve goes eagerly, crushes their bodies together.

They kiss and they kiss, and it's already so far from a friendly New Year's kiss, but then Eddie's tongue swipes into Steve's mouth, and the kiss breaks.

"Um," Eddie says.

Steve can't respond because all his focus is on not giving into the weakness in his knees and collapsing to the floor.

"I've wanted you to do that all night," Steve says.

"Oh." Eddie's face blossoms into a slow smile. "Me too. A lot longer than that, actually."

It's Steve's turn to smile, and he does, so hard it hurts his cheeks. "Me too."

Eddie presses their foreheads together. "Happy New Year, Stevie."

Someone starts singing Auld Lang Syne loudly and off-key, but they're quickly drowned out by a chorus of accompanying voices.

"Happy New Year, Ed."

Steve pulls him in for another kiss. 1987 is already shaping up to be the best year of his life.

[sunmoonandeddie]

TW for internalized homophobia and related bad decisions

Steve is 12 and he thinks about finding his soulmate all the time.

You're supposed to find them through touch; your life together will flash in front of your eyes. They're rare, though, soulmates. So rare that most people never find theirs. So rare that some people say they're made up.

Steve wants to be one of the lucky few. He wants it to be a true, unbreakable bond, a love he gets to have forever.

He wonders if he'll find his soulmate at school. He's popular, he thinks. Tommy would say they were popular. But Tommy's definition of popular mostly has to do with the number of kids he can get away with being mean to, and that's not really Steve's deal. Tommy is like a prey animal, the way he can find weaknesses.

There's a new boy at school. Steve doesn't know his name, but they have English together. He's too thin, with huge brown eyes, and all his clothes are too big. His head's been inexpertly shaved and he never looks anybody in the eye. It's only a matter of time before he catches Tommy's interest, and Steve wishes he could stop it somehow, but he's never been good at going against Tommy.

The day comes, of course. They're standing in the hall, the new boy walking towards them, head down, as always. Tommy nudges Steve says, "What a loser."

And Steve shrugs, starts to ask Tommy about football, if the Colts can make the Super Bowl, but the boy is nearing and Tommy is cackling.

"Watch this." Tommy sticks his foot out.

The boy doesn't react fast enough. He falls forward with a bitten off yelp, and Steve moves without really thinking, only knows he can't stand to see him fall. He catches the new kid beneath his armpits, Steve's thumbs brushing the soft skin his arms.

The world around him falls away at the touch.

---

He's sitting on the floor in the band room, Eddie--the boy's name is Eddie--next to him. Eddie's hair is a little longer and Steve's in a green polo he doesn't recognize, and he's never been in the band room in his life. They're leaning into each other and laughing and Eddie's so beautiful.

---

They're in the woods--Skull Rock, Steve thinks. Eddie's hair is curled and frizzed around his chin, and he's laughing, his cheeks pink, his dimples prominent. He tries to pull his hair in front of his face, but it's not long enough yet to reach. Steve is overwhelmed, wants to kiss him so bad. He's never had to wait to kiss someone, or been unsure, or--

He wants to kiss Eddie.

So, he does.

It's hard, desperate, not the first kiss Steve expected, but then they've been waiting for so long.

---

Steve stands in the hallway of Hawkins High. He's wearing a striped, beige short-sleeved polo, and flirting with Nancy Wheeler.

He likes Nancy, she's pretty and smart and fun. And it's easy. He can hold her hand. Can introduce her to his parents. Can take her on dates and kiss her in public.

She bats her big blue eyes at him, and he can't help but kiss her.

He pulls away gently, brushing his thumb against her cheek, and when he looks down the hall, Eddie is there, frozen. His mouth is wide, his eyes glassy.

Steve thinks the way his heart stutters must be what dying feels like.

---

He's sitting on his diving board, facing away from the pool. He smokes a cigarette and there's a bat studded with nails at his feet, what the fuck. Music thuds, shrieks and laughter seep into the cool night air.

He should be playing the gracious host. He should be having a good time. Instead, his eyes search the woods and he taps another smoke out of the pack.

"Harrington?" The voice makes him jump, hand flexing around the bat handle. "It's freezing out. What are you doing?"

He recognizes the voice now, doesn't turn, doesn't respond, can't stand to see another person he let down; another person who could call him bullshit and be 100% correct.

"Do you not have a jacket? C'mon, man."

Something warm settles over his shoulders, and he inadvertently breathes in weed and leather and cedar. He squeezes his eyes shut, like that will make the comforting, familiar scent go away. He'll have to move to shrug off the jacket, though, which would mean acknowledging Eddie's presence.

"Can you at least say something, Harrington? You're freaking me out."

"I'm fine, Ed--Eddie." The nickname falls from his lips too easily. He doesn't miss how Eddie flinches.

His hair is long now, down to his shoulders, brittle looking in the cold. He's wearing a t-shirt and worn flannel, arms wrapped around his chest for warmth now that his jacket is draped over Steve's shoulders.

Steve is an idiot. He's such an idiot. Chasing after Nancy when Eddie is--

"I'm sorry," he says. He turns to face his soulmate, then. "I'm sorry about Nancy, I--"

Eddie jerks back like he's been hit. "Fuck you, Harrington," he snarls.

---

He sits in the back of an ambulance, eyes swollen shut, face throbbing. He's wearing a sailor suit for inexplicable reasons, which is almost more upsetting than the ambulance. He smells like puke and something toxically sweet.

A girl is with him, one he doesn't recognize, but he feels deeply, instinctively protective of her. He holds her shaking shoulders tight, tries to whisper comfort to her through his busted and bleeding mouth.

He's pretty sure he has a concussion.

"Steve!" Someone screams over the sounds of the EMTs and firefighters, of the building burning and collapsing behind them.

Eddie bursts through the gathered onlookers and past the ring of police cars enclosing them. He's falling into the ambulance before Steve has a chance to react.

"Sweetheart," Eddie sobs. He tries to cup Steve's face, but his fingers flutter around the damage. "Sweetheart, oh my god. I came as soon as I heard. Are you--what can I--"

Steve stares at him--his hair falling from its messy bun, his cutoff Metallica tee, concern and love leaking from those brown, brown eyes--and bursts into tears.

---

They sit on the roof of his house, sharing a joint back and forth. It's chilly, bordering on cold, winter just on the horizon. They're laughing, leaning into each other, and Steve is--he's happy. Elated. Could float away with it.

Robin--Robin-- is in the bathroom, or maybe in the kitchen for snacks, and it's just them for now. They're looking at each other, smiles wide, eyes bright.

They're taking it slow. Steve knows it's important, after what he did. They talked about it, his abandoning of Eddie for Nancy, chasing what his dad told him was normal and expected.

He doesn't want to cross any boundaries, wants to do this right. How Eddie deserves. But they're leaning into each other and they're smiling, and he's so in love. Intoxicated with it, lost.

In the end, he doesn't know who makes the first move, just that they're kissing and it's like coming home.

---

He's in a building, a shed or something. It's musty and dirty, smells like oil and gasoline and a building left closed up too long. Eddie's in his arms and he's talking through hiccuping sobs.

"I didn't save her, Steve. I didn't help. I just left her there! She was broken in pieces and I--I--"

Steve holds him close, tight, squeezes his eyes closed to stop his own tears from falling. He never wanted this for Eddie, never wanted him involved. Thought he could protect him from all of Hawkins's terrible things.

They aren't alone. Robin is there, coming up to hold Eddie too, plus a redheaded girl and curly haired boy he doesn't recognize.

"We'll figure this out, Eddie." The boy promises.

"We won't let anyone hurt you. We know you didn't murder Chrissy," the girl says.

---

Steve is in a world he doesn't understand, and Eddie is his arms. Eddie is in his arms, and there's blood everywhere. He's not awake, he's not--his heart beat is soft and slow, too slow, and his breathing stutters, and Steve can't--

"Baby, stay with me." He begs as he runs across the dead and rotting landscape. "Eddie, please. Wake up, okay? Wake up for me. I need to--I need to know that you're alright."

Eddie stays limp in his arms.

"Please," he begs. "You can't leave me. We promised, remember? We promised we'd be together forever. The rest of our lives. Me and You. Our six little nuggets. You promised."

The portal back to Hawkins is less than a dozen feet away, he's so close. Eddie gasps to consciousness, but his eyes are still hazy.

"Hi, sweetheart," he mumbles.

"Hey, hi, you're doing so good. We're almost out, okay? We're almost out and we'll get you to the hospital."

Eddie reaches out a weak hand, touches the edge of Steve's jaw. "Love you, Stevie," he whispers. "Glad you were mine."

He goes still in Steve's hold.

---

The images come faster now--

A hospital room at Hawkins General, Eddie hooked to machines. Steve holds hands with an older man. They wait in terrified silence

Eddie propped in a bed, a bunch of kids around him, Steve and Robin at his side. His eyes keep sliding to Steve, like he's making sure Steve's real, that he's still there

Their bodies tangled together in a bedroom Steve doesn't recognize

Steve down on one knee in a marble room lit only by black and red candles, Eddie standing in front of him

Hand-in-hand on a cliffside overlooking the ocean. The Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, stands in front of them with tears in his eyes and a beaming smile on his face

In a big, green yard behind a cozy little house. A little boy with Eddie's eyes and curls riding on his shoulders. Eddie sprinting around with a tiny girl giggling after him, perfect imitation of the King Steve hair-do on her tiny head

In a park, surrounded by family and friends. Steve has a little bit of a paunch and wears glasses. Eddie's hair streams around his shoulders, going grey at the temples. There's a banner strung between trees proclaiming 'Happy 20th Steve and Eddie!' They're surrounded by everyone they love and it's perfect

---

The images flash too fast for Steve to catalog after that, seconds-long glimpses of a shared future, and then he's back in his body in the hallway of Hawkins Middle, still holding too tight onto Eddie's arms.

Eddie rears back, face pale and terrified, and Steve is too shocked to do anything but let him go.

Tommy's yelling, but Steve only has eyes for his soulmate, who scrambles to his feet and throws himself down the hall away from them.

"What the hell, Harrington? Why'd you catch him? That was about to be funny as hell! I bet he'd have broken his nose--you ruined it!"

Steve isn't listening. He's trying to hold on to the memories of their life together, the ones that are already fading.

The last thing he remembers is that, sometime in the not-too-distant future, he'll find his way to the band room, Eddie Munson, and the rest of their lives.

[sunmoonandeddie]

Steve wins the bat plush at a fair when he's seven. He doesn't care about bats, but it's the prize for making all five baskets in the basketball game, so he gets the little bat. Its eyes are a little crooked and one wing is slightly smaller than the other, but it being lopsided sort of makes it cuter.

He and his dad, they're supposed to be going on rides now, but his dad's pager keeps going off. He puts Steve next to a funnel cake stand, tells him not to move, and goes in search of a pay phone. Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve is bored under the flashing lights and tinkling music. He wants to play not sit and wait.

Eventually, he drifts back towards the midway, watches the people rushing by, searches for a sign of his dad's return. His attention is caught by another boy at the basketball booth. He has to be about Steve's age, with a mop of dark curls on top of his head and a jean jacket that's slightly too big, sleeves flopping over his hands as he lines up his shots.

This boy, he's terrible at basketball. Every shot is too high or too short or goes wide, but he's trying. Even from this distance, Steve can see how hard he's trying. He uses up his five balls, fishes into his jacket pocket for more money, and gets five more.

He misses every shot. This time, when he goes back for more money, he comes up empty. Steve thinks he sees his lip shaking.

A man, one in a leather jacket and boots that Steve thinks look mean, comes up to the boy, drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. He's too far away to hear the conversation, assumes the boy asks to play again and the man's response is a shaken head and a tight smile. They walk away from the games, right towards Steve, who slinks back to the side of the midway, not wanting to be caught staring.

"What was it you wanted? That stupid bat? Just another piece of trash you wanna bring in my house." Steve hears as they pass.

The boy nods, but keeps his eyes down and to the side.

He feels bad then. Felt bad before, but now he looks at his own bat, at its funny eyes and poorly attached wings, and wishes he could hand it over to the boy who really wants it. Steve almost does, then, makes to go after them, but his dad appears, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder and saying, "ready to hit those rides?" And he knows the opportunity is gone, knows his dad will say it's too soft, not what men do.

Steve manages to lose himself for a while in the swirling lights and funhouse music and carnival rides, forget about the little bat in his back pocket and the boy who wanted one so desperately. But then his dad's pager goes off some more, he goes back to the pay phone, and Steve ducks into the low brick building that houses the bathrooms.

His eyes immediately land on the same boy from the basketball game. His eyes are red, face damp, obviously from tears, and Steve just--

"Here." He shoves the bat into the boy's chest.

For a second, the brownest eyes Steve's ever seen widen at him, before narrowing in a harsh glare, the boy's teeth barred.

"Why?" He snarls.

Steve thinks he may regret every choice that led him to this but he says, he says, "Because I want you to have it."

The boy blinks a few times, hand reaching out to gently pinch the bat's smallest wing. "You sure?"

Steve nods and the bat is slowly withdrawn from his grasp.

"No takesies-backsies?"

"It's yours."

The boy looks at the bat in awe, and Steve says, "see? It already looks happier with you."

The boy's beaming smile is cut-off by a voice calling from the door, "you in there,? I ain't got time to be waiting for your boohooing."

"Coming!" The boy carefully tucks the bat into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes big and glistening and happy, before he disappears out the door.

---

13 years later, give or take a few months, and Steve stands in the cracked shell of a bisected trailer, rummaging through what remains of a life well-lived, searching for anything whole. He's already found a few undamaged mugs and clean hats, but this room--it took a lot of damage. The brunt of it, really. Some sick sort of joke, after everything.

It's mostly rubble in here, scraps of fabric; slivers of notebook paper, magazine, poster; crumbled shards of vinyl and cassette plastic. A few times he comes across the disembodied limb of one of those dnd figures, and something weird happens to his throat.

In the far corner there's half of a dresser collapsed into itself, and he shuffles through the debris to see what he can find. There's something, soft and black, just the edge of it, peaking out from under half of a drawer face. He pulls it out, careful as can be and it's--it's a plush bat. It's a little dirty, but unharmed, though its eyes are a little wonky, and one wing is smaller than the other.

He holds it and he stares and he has to brace himself against the wall. It can't be--it's not the same one--but he remembers those big brown eyes and the curls and--

"Harrington," a warm, rich voice calls from what's left of the hallway. "You get lost in there?"

Eddie shuffles in, slow, careful with his crutches. And it--it took so long, months and months of convalesce and physical therapy, still physical therapy, but he's here. He's alive. He's perfect. And the something blooming between them, it's not spoken yet, but it's there, growing, and now, now--

"Oh my god, you found Lilith! I thought she was toast."

"Lilith?" He's still cradling the little lopsided bat in his hands, but moves closer to hand it over to Eddie.

"Yes, Lilith." Eddie takes the bat, presses it to his chest. "The first boy I ever loved gave her to me."

His heart turns over in his chest and when he swallows his throat clicks. Eddie doesn't notice, he's smiling softly at the bat, at Lilith, but then, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"First boy you ever loved?" He says. He thinks he sounds normal.

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even softer. "Yeah. Roan County Fair, years ago. Tried to win her, but--" he clicks his tongue--"never had great hand-eye coordination. And then this kid just gave her to me out of nowhere. I used to think I was going to marry him."

"And now?"

Eddie laughs. "I grew up, Steve."

And for a second, he doesn't know what to say, but then, "I was right then, huh? That she'd be happier with you."

He stares at Steve, those same big brown eyes, wide and glistening. "Steve that was--Steve?" Eddie presses a hand over his mouth, overcome, before launching himself into Steve's arms. The crutches clatter to the floor, but Steve has him, will always have him, no matter what.

"I can't believe you kept her," Steve whispers.

"God, I carry her everywhere. She's Corroded Coffin's mascot, and you--Steve, I can't believe that was you."

"Surprise," he bumps Eddie's forehead with his.

They hold each other in the center of the destruction, but none of that matters right now, not when it feels like every moment since they very first met as children was leading them to this.

From the other half of the trailer, they hear footsteps, chattering, Wayne and Robin and Dustin, but Steve wants this to last a little longer.

"So, marriage...that still off the table?"

Eddie laughs softly, nuzzles his face against Steve's neck. "Are you kidding, sweetheart? No way I'm letting you go."

[sunmoonandeddie]

They start kissing on stage as a joke.

The night before the first time, they're at an afterparty, pounding shots, and Eddie is reading aloud a piece that just came out in Rolling Stone. "'One of the most noteworthy parts of Munson and Harrington's unlikely pairing is their chemistry on stage. It's like these two men--one on his way to being the latest metal god, the other an indie rock wunderkind--are two parts of one musical whole. Their singing, their playing, even their bodies twine and flow with assuredness; where one goes, the other follows without question. They share a single brain-cell and that cell is music'."

Steve giggles, pours some more Grey Goose into the glass. "If they say that now, could you imagine what would happen if we, like, kissed on stage or something."

"What the fuck, Harrington?" Eddie splutters, having just thrown a drink back.

"I don't know, other bands do it!"

Eddie snorts. "I'm cutting you off." He reaches for the bottle and the suggestion is forgotten for wrestling over the liquor.

Steve barely remembers it in the morning. Doesn't think about it at all as he gets ready to go out on stage.

They're playing one of the instrumental breakdowns when it happens. They're leaning into each other, Eddie smiling over his shoulder at him, their eyes locked, bodies moving together. "You wanna?" Eddie mouths at him.

Steve nods before the question actually registers and by then Eddie's warm, soft mouth is against his and he just-- completely forgets what he's doing. His hands still on the guitar strings, and he melts a little, going completely boneless when Eddie grips the back of his head, pulls him deeper into the kiss. t's over almost as quickly as it started, Eddie pulling away and swirling to the mic to start the next verse.

The kiss sinks into Steve's bones, and that's before it becomes a regular feature of their performances. After that night, they're never at the same time during the show, all initiated by Eddie, all over before he can catch his breath; each one chaste and surrounded by people but somehow more intimate than any make out.

He and Eddie, they're friends, bandmates, collaborators. They've known each other since they first started out, forging an immediate connection with they stumbled upon each other hiding out in the garden at some industry bigwig's party. And as much as he loved his friend, never once in that time had Steve considered wanting Eddie.

But now, now he falls asleep with the ghost of Eddie on his lips, goes into each show with a thrum of anticipation, catches himself thinking how beautiful his friend is when he's all rumpled and disheveled from a night in the tour bus bunks.

They've always been easy with physical affection, but once the kissing starts they're constantly in each other's space, idly playing with hair, laying across laps, heads on shoulders, twisting together on the tour bus couch. Steve is ruined with every touch, every moment; he can't get enough.

The first time Eddie uses tongue destroys every last piece of Steve's composure. They've added a new song to the setlist, a remixed version of Eddie's hit "Prince Charming". It's hard, heavy, sexy, one of Steve's favorites. And in the middle of it, right in the middle, Eddie shoves him against a low platform, kisses him like he's trying to own him, tongues twining eager and wet and full of sinful promise. It's like that every show after, Eddie kissing him deep and thorough, like he's trying to lick up every drop of Steve.

He is, unquestionably, fucked. Unquestionably falling. Can't properly fathom how he'd gotten himself here, desperate for Eddie's kiss, as performative as it may be.

They're packing up equipment after a show. Eddie's hair is piled in a messy bun and Steve is trying not to blatantly stare at the curve of his neck, the stray curls against his pale skin. Eddie's gesturing at something, says, "Can you grab those cords, swee--Steve?" He hands them over without thought, notices that Eddie's face is shining red. He's called away to deal with packing the guitars, forgets all about it, but at their next show, Eddie doesn't kiss him.

They don't talk about it.

Eddie doesn't try to kiss him again.

A week after Eddie stops the kiss, they have a night off between shows. He needs to get out of his head, goes out with Robin. He gets back fairly early, but all the lights are off in the bus. It makes him panic in a way it shouldn't; they've always done their own things. Still, he rushes on board, flips on the lights, his absurd heart beating too hard.

Eddie is curled up on the couch, face pressed to the pillows and covered with his hands. The panic kicks up a notch.

"Eddie?" He steps closer, slowly reaching out to grip Eddie's shoulder.

He jerks upright, earbuds slipping free, phone sliding down his hip. "Steve?"

His face is wet, tears actively slipping free from his eyes as Steve watches.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" His hands flutter around Eddie's arms and face, searching for bruises or wounds.

"I'm fine, Harrington," he chokes out. "Though you were out with Robin?"

"Yeah, I was, but Chrissy called. You know how useless she gets. But that doesn't--you--you're crying. What's wrong?"

Eddie's smile is a wobbly little thing, refusing to stick on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fell for the wrong guy."

Steve forces down the gut churning hurt at hearing that Eddie's in love with someone, intent on comforting his friend. He tries to slip his arm around Eddie's shoulders, but Eddie shrugs him off. It jostles Eddie's phone again, slipping it toward Steve and activating the screen. He has a split second where he's looking at the cover of his own first album, before Eddie's snatching it out of reach, scrambling up from the couch.

"I'm fine." He swipes his sleeve over his face. "It's nothing."

And Steve is putting it all together, the being in love and listening to Steve's music, the kissing and how it ended.--

"Eddie." He sounds all wrong, choked and garbled.

Eddie doesn't turn around, is stuffing his feet into his boots. "I'm--I gotta go clear my head."

He walks towards the door and Steve just--"I've been obsessed with you since the first kiss," he says. Eddie stops, hand curled against the door. "We've been friends all this time and I didn't--I never realized. And then we kissed and--it's all I've been able to think about."

Eddie turns then, facing him, expression unreadable."Steve, what are you--"

"I love you. I'm in love with you." It comes out fast, all jumbled, but he can't stand Eddie leaving, not now.

"You--?" Eddie blinks, bites his lip. "That's not possible."

Steve smiles, can't help it. "It is, though. Turns out, I can't get enough."

Their eyes lock; neither speaks. Steve's heart pounds so hard it might spring free of his chest. Eddie moves first, crosses the small distance between them to pull Steve into his arms.

It's not a kiss, but Steve buries his face against Eddie's neck, breathing him in, feeling the echo to the pound of his own heart. "How long?" Steve asks.

Eddie's soft laugh vibrates through him. "Since I saw you walking in that garden and thought, 'jesus christ, Prince Charming is real'."

Steve pulls away to stare at Eddie in disbelief. "But that's--your--the song?"

"They're kinda all about you, Stevie. But that one most of all." Eddie whispers. His eyes glisten.

"Fuck, Eddie." He doesn't mean to whine, but he's not in control of his voice anymore. "I'm sorry I didn't--" He shakes his head. "I'm all yours, Ed. Whatever you want."

Eddie's thumb catches against Steve's bottom lips, eyes transfixed on his mouth. "Everything, sweetheart. I want it all."

[sunmoonandeddie]

Scandal follows Eddie Munson wherever he goes. He doesn't mean for it to, it just does. And, like, sure, he should've known that cavorting with a bunch of topless models in a hot tub in a chalet in the Swiss Alps was a bad idea, but 1) he's gay and 2) even if he wasn't, does anyone really care if a rockstar has an orgy these days?

Well, it turns out that they do. They do so much, in fact, that he hasn't known a moment's peace since the photos leaked. Every time they go outside, they're mobbed. Their socials are a disaster zone.

Chrissy, Jeff, Gareth, and Freak are sick of his shit, worried that this will ruin the world tour, which doesn't make any sense. All publicity is good publicity, right?

Anyway, he's not surprised when he, Chrissy, and the rest of the band are whisked away in a fancy car with dark-tinted windows, thinks they're about to fly home for a break. And honestly? Good riddance to Europe.

Imagine his surprise when he exits the car mere feet away from the sun soaked Mediterranean.

"Oh no. No, no, no." He says, trying to force his way back into the sedan.

"Oh, yes." Chrissy links her arm with his. "You need to lay low for a few days and this was the best I could manage on short notice."

He glares. "You know I hate boats."

"You do not," Gareth accuses.

"You're just mad at facing consequences for your actions," Jeff adds.

"I didn't do anything!" He wails.

Freak pulls out his phone, reads, "Munson, 26, has always been open about being gay, out of the closet since Corroded Coffin's first gig. Now, though, his sexuality is in question. Multiple women have come forward to claim they slept with the rockstar. And, while many of the women in the photo have said that Munson was 'deeply uninterested' in them, the fact remains that his antics are more Motley Crue than Troye Sivan."

Eddie groans up at the sky. "Why would I be anything like Troye Sivan!? I'm in a heavy metal band! And he's around boobies all the time! Honestly, has no one been to a rave?"

"Not since the 90's." Chrissy smiles brightly, continues up the dock.

"I'm never forgiving any of you for this."

"It's a luxury yacht, Eddie. You'll survive," Gareth says.

He very bravely does not point out that he's wearing black jeans and an over-sized black hoodie and black platform Doc Martens, so obviously he's not the type of person equipped for any kind of boat.

The conversation ends but only because, when they get up to the main deck and the crew waiting for them, he sees the most beautiful man in the world. Artfully messy sun-bronzed hair, strong jaw, classic nose, skin dotted with freckles. Aviators hide his eyes, but even the sunglasses look good on him. Not to mention the little white uniform that shows off all of his many many muscles.

Eddie stares at him, blatantly, unabashedly, totally missing the introduction to the rest of the crew.

As soon as he's left to his own devices, he locks himself in his cabin. Not even the chance to gawk at that hot guy can draw him out of his pout. They can force him onto a boat, but they can't make him enjoy it.

He lasts until afternoon the next day, when Jeff barges in, surprising him enough that the throws his phone with a very un-rockstar yelp.

"You have to come out." Jeff's arms are crossed over his chest.

"Nope." Eddie relaxes back into his pillows. "Not until this is over."

"So, you're going to stay in your room for a week?"

"Guess so."

"Orr, you could come out and enjoy yourself instead of pouting over what your own actions caused."

"My actions!" He shrieks. "My actions! I stumbled on a bunch of topless French models in a hot tub, and I'm at fault?"

"No, you being drunk enough to get in with them was the problem."

"I wasn't even that drunk! I just thought it was funny. They did too!"

Jeff sighs. "You get yourself into a situation more than any person I've ever met."

"See? It's not my fault."

"I mean. It kind of is. I suspect any other guy would learn how to avoid this."

"I'm not leaving."

"Man, Chrissy isn't going to let you stay in here."

"Too bad."

"She told me to carry you out, if I had to."

"You wouldn't."

"If you come out, you can chat up the cute bosun."

"The bos-what?"

"Bosun. The guy you were ogling when we boarded. His name is Steve. He's really nice. He--"

"I was not ogling him."

"Eddie. You looked like you wanted to eat him for dinner."

"I'm not leaving the room." He sing-songs.

Look, would he have fought so hard if he'd known that Jeff was strong enough to toss him over his shoulders and fireman-carry him out of the room and up the stairs? He would not.

Instead, he screams the whole way from his cabin to the deck, where he's unceremoniously deposited into a lounge chair next to Chrissy. She's in a hot pink bikini, sipping a cocktail.

"Good to see you." She deadpans.

He glares. "Et tu, Chrissy?"

From behind him, a rich voice calls out, "Glad you could join us." It is, of course, the hot bosun. He waves when he catches Eddie looking in his direction.

Eddie sinks down in the lounger, Chrissy stifling giggles against her elbow.

---

The thing is, Steve is nice. He's nice and he's funny and he's hardworking. He's good with the other deckhands, Dustin, Max, and Lucas; strict but fair and good at keeping everyone on task. The stewards, Nancy, Robin, and El, all love him. Sometimes, he'll be down on all fours scrubbing the deck, and his t-shirt will bunch up, reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his taunt stomach that makes Eddie feel like a feral dog.

He's out on the top deck reading a copy of The Hobbit that Dustin loaned him, when Steve comes around the corner.

"Oh! Eddie, hey." Steve smiles. "Didn't realize there were any guests still up here."

"Do you need me to move?" He asks. He swings his feet over the side of the lounger.

"Not at all. Just wasn't expecting you." Steve's puttering around, picking up the detritus of the day. "I'm glad we've been able to overcome your expectations of boats."

His squeak is indignant. "It wasn't about the boat! I was brought here against my will!"

Steve smiles at him, eyes glittering. "Yeah, what a horrible punishment, boarding a luxury yacht for a Mediterranean cruise."

Eddie grabs at his chest, mimes being shot in the heart. "Stevie, how could you? All this time I thought you were on my side."

"Eh," he shrugs. "You were kind of being a baby."

He falls off the lounger at this. "The killing blow," he wails.

Laughing, Steve extends a hand, helps him to his feet. Their eyes meet and Eddie's struck, once again, by the way the hazel shines so gold, even at twilight.

"I'm being punished," he says, looking away.

"Again, getting on a chartered yacht for a week is not much of a punishment."

"I have a tendency to find myself involved in shenanigans."

"The topless women," Steve says.

Eddie groans. "You know about that?"

Steve does a real bitchy thing with his eyebrows that makes Eddie very warm in places it shouldn't. "Everyone knows about it."

"Okay. I'll have you know those boobs meant nothing to me, which is why it was fine! We had fun! Also, I am very, very gay. Like. The gayest."

"Oh, I know." Steve grins.

He doesn't know what to do with that. Changes the subject instead. "I hadn't clocked you for someone who listened to our stuff."

"I don't. Or well. Not really. No offense. The kids love you guys. And Robin. It's just--it's really loud? Not really my thing. Some good lyrics, though."

"No, I get it." He nods, licks his lips. "I write most of our songs." He's not sure why he says it, what he hopes to get from it.

"I know," Steve says.

"Oh." Eddie smiles down at his hands, The Hobbit. Before he can say more, Chrissy calls him down for dinner.

---

It's no secret that the Corroded Coffin boys are diehard dnd fans. They've done interviews about it, posted video of their sessions on YouTube and TikTok. Everyone knows they play, everyone knows Eddie DMs, so, he supposes, it's only a matter of time before Dustin and Lucas asks if he would DM for them.

The band, Chrissy, Lucas, Dustin, Max, Nancy, El, and Robin all agree to play. When asked, Captain Hopper snorts, doesn't take his eyes off the horizon, and Steve tells Dustin, "You know nothing in the world will make me play that game, kid. I'll try to stop by, though."

Eddie is totally in his element, everyone is having a blast, even Captain Hopper stops by. And Steve--he shows up after fifteen minutes, stays the whole time, can't keep his eyes off Eddie. He's not sure if it spurs him on, makes him more wild and dramatic, but the game is electric, the mood high.

It's an amazing night, one of the best of Eddie's life, and that's really saying something. They go late, well into the morning, but he's too hyped to sleep. He's pacing across the deck when Steve appears.

"You were great tonight." He says.

Eddie feels like he's effervescing. "You should think about playing sometime."

"Nah." Steve ducks his head a little. "Wouldn't be the same without you leading."

There's not a ton of space separating them, but he closes the distance anyway. "That could be arranged," he says, voice low.

"Yeah?" Steve meets his eyes, doesn't look away.

"If you want."

The air between them goes heavy, tightens, the silence lengthens.

"I can't," Steve breathes. "I'm working."

"No, yeah," Eddie nods. He steps back, runs his hand through his hair. He's never said no to something like this, never to someone like Steve. "I'm avoiding--"

"Situations." Steve finishes.

"Oh, but, Stevie, you're a situation I want very much."

"Take me on a date tomorrow."

"It would be my pleasure," he says.

He should leave but--he does love an occurrence, so he lets the impulsivity fly-- leans forward, places a soft kiss at the corner of Steve's mouth.

"Tomorrow, sweetheart."

[sunmoonandeddie]

Eddie Munson transfers to Hawkins after 5 years of being an EMT in Chicago. Within his first three hours at the ambulance service, he learns about the Hero of Hawkins. It's said over the radio with teasing affection about a firefighter named Steve, and it's such an endearing small town thing that Eddie can't help but be enamored, like he's moved into a Hallmark movie.

About a week later, he's rummaging around the kitchen at the station, when he finds that year's sexy firefighter charity calendar tacked inside a cabinet door. It's pretty standard fare until he gets to August.

Mr. August is maybe, probably, definitely the hottest guy he's ever seen. He's wearing the pants from his gear, suspenders, and no shirt, revealing his defined, hair-covered chest. He's got these brown puppy-dog eyes, pouty pink lips, and the most luscious sweep of chestnut hair Eddie's ever seen.

After a truly embarrassing amount of time, he's finally able to draw his eyes away from the gorgeous firefighter, and only then does he see marquee lights in the background spelling out, "Hero of Hawkins."

The nickname is cute and fun if it's teasing between coworkers, but this is something else. Now, Eddie can only see this guy's little smirk and hands-on-hips pose as proof that he's a stuck up, ego-inflated, douche.

Of course, he hasn't met him yet, this Steve Harrington. And Nancy and Chrissy and Jonathan, his fellow EMTs, only have great things to say about him. But they grew up with Harrington and Eddie has big city experience with men just like that, cocky and self-assured and mean. Knows he can spot the type better than they ever could.

He doesn't meet the Hero of Hawkins for another month, not until he and Jonathan are called out to Claudia Henderson's for a firefighter who took a nasty knock on the head from a tree branch.

When they pull up, Eddie moves to the man sitting on the curb, holding a towel up to his forehead. As he nears, he makes out the perfect jawline of Steve Harrington.

"So," He crouches until they're eye-level. "Hero of Hawkins, we meet at last."

Steve's mouth quirks up, just a little. "Not feeling so heroic right now."

And that's not what Eddie expects. Not defensive, or angry, or posturing. It's self-deprecating, slightly embarrassed, just a little resigned.

"Let's a get a look at what we're working with. I'm going to touch your face, okay?"

Steve nods, moves the towel out of the way. There's a gash, sizable, oozing blood, but it looks shallow. "Hmm, got yourself pretty good. What happened?"

"Uh," Steve coughs. "Got a call that the Henderson's cat was up a tree."

"A cat did that?" Eddie draws back.

"No, of course not." He snorts. "When I grabbed Tews, he panicked and I slipped. Knocked my head against a branch."

Eddie cleans the wound, gentle and precise. "And where is Tews now?"

"Sitting in Mrs. Henderson's recliner." Steve mumbles.

He tries and fails to stifle his laugh, but instead of getting mad, Harrington smiles. "Not my finest moment."

"Alright, wounds all clean and patched up. Doesn't look like you need stitches."

"Thanks." He sticks out a hand, and it takes Eddie a second to take it. "I'm Steve. Appreciate the help."

"Eddie. Honored to meet such a revered figure."

Maybe it's the sun, but it looks like Harrington goes a little pink around the cheek. "I hope I lived up to expectations?"

"Well, you did fall out of a tree, but you saved the cat so."

Harrington's smile goes silly and crooked. "I hear I make a hell of a second impression."

"Looking forward to it," Eddie can't help but respond.

Every single time they meet after, it's because Harrington's suffered some minor injury. Cuts, burns, sprains, all collected in the line of duty, all from during absurd and dangerous good deeds. And Steve is bashful, nice, funny. Not at all like Eddie expected. Not at all like he seemed.

Eddie doesn't trust it. There's no guy in the world as hot as Steve Harrington, who people call the Hero of Hawkins, who is actually genuine and kind. It's a put-on, a ruse, a trick. Has to be.

---

All the first responders are volunteering at the humane shelter. Harrington's surrounded by these kittens who've been obsessed with him since he walked in, and Eddie's desperate attempts to thwart a crush start to crumble. Steve is hot and sweet and funny and there's a kitten sitting on his head and another one trying to wiggle into the sleeve of his hoodie and Eddie is only so strong, okay?

"Need a little help?" He calls across the room.

Steve smiles up at him. "That might be good, yeah." Another kitten squiggles into his hood.

Eddie walks over, starts gently detaching mewling babies.

"Cats always like this around you?"

"I think there's just something about me."

"Stuffed with catnip?

He laughs. "Oh, is that what that is?"

One of the kittens in Eddie's hand wiggles its little paws in an effort to escape back to Steve. "No question. I'm starting to wonder if you're like a Disney princess or something."

"What about me exactly screams princess."

And Eddie has so many answers to that, but manages to swallow them all down. "Uh, tiny animals love you? Seems like you've got a real heart of gold thing going on? Plus, there's the hair. And the nickname."

"Oh, god." Steve stares at him, mouth open. "Am I a Disney princess?"

He nods emphatically. "How'd you get the nickname anyway?"

He shakes his head, bites his lip. It's so cute Eddie sort of loses track of his question until Steve starts answering.

"God, it was like, my first six months on the job, or something. There was an apartment fire. A family got trapped on an upper floor, and I went in after them."

"Holy shit. Were they okay?"

"I think the nickname might be a little different if they weren't."

"Right. Fair point."

"Hopper tore me a new one for it, but what was I supposed to do? Leave them?"

"No, yeah, I get it. You have to do what you can to get them out."

Steve nods. "Exactly."

"Why do you do it?" Eddie asks without meaning to.

Steve's eyes focus back on him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Eddie gestures to the kittens, the ones he carefully removed all making their ways back to Steve. "You save the dogs, you save the cats, you save the kids, you save the family. Every time anyone, any thing, is in the slightest bit of danger, you're there."

"Oh." He ducks his head. "I--uh--I want to help people? I want to do good. I want--I want to be known as someone who does good things?"

It's too raw, too open, and Eddie realizes--too late--that the question was intimate, personal in a way that he and Steve haven't been yet.

"Sorry. Shit. I shouldn't have asked, that's not any of my--"

Steve smiles, but it's vague, not directed at Eddie, and before Eddie can apologize more, Nancy's calling his name, saying they need his help sorting donations.

"I gotta--"he points in the direction of the back--"I'm sorry. I--thank you--

Steve makes a little noise in his throat, says "see you later?" And Eddie nods, walks away with a lump in his throat.

Before he disappears into the back, he looks back at Steve--lying on the floor now, having succumbed to the kittens--and he can't ignore the way his heart clenches.

--

There's a fire at the abandoned mall on the outskirts of town. Eddie isn't on shift, not for another few hours, but this one, it starts as all-hands, quickly expands to requests for assistance from other local departments. The last thing Eddie hears before he sprints to his car is that there are credible reports of kids trapped inside, and there's no doubt in his mind that Steve will go after them.

As he nears the mall, he spots the plumes of black smoke billowing from the roof, the cops blocking the road up ahead. Eddie pulls over, sprints through the barricade.

He manages to find Nancy in the chaos. "What's going on?"

She turns to him, mouth pinched. "Mike's in there with Will and El and the rest of their friends. Hopper and Steve went in after them."

"How long?"

She shakes her head, and his limbs go numb with fear.

With a shaking, roaring, crash the back of the building collapses. Everyone screams, Eddie nearly falling to his knees.

Behind him someone gasps, shouts, "There!"

And through an emergency exit stumbles a gaggle of kids, and then Hopper holding his daughter close.

He takes account of Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson and Max Mayfield and Erica Sinclair and Mike Wheeler, but there's two people missing, there's two--

"Will?" Joyce asks. There are tears in her eyes.

Hopper shakes his head. "He was trapped under some debris. Steve stayed behind to free him. I--they--the collapse--"

Joyce's hands cover her mouth, Jonathan pulling her into a hug, grief shadowing his own face.

Steve, Will, they can't be dead. Eddie can't imagine a world without Steve Harrington in it, can't imagine his life without Steve in it.

They wait in tense silence, but as more glass pops and shatters, as the flames roar closer, as more parts of the building collapse, the less likely it is that Steve and Will make it out.

Eddie can't hear over the flames, not over the pounding of his heart, but he does see when the door shoves open. He does see the booted foot that kicks it wide.

Steve isn't wearing his coat of his helmet, his face covered in soot, hair singed, some of the skin on his arms and chest shining in pink, burnt patches. In his arms, Will Byers, bundled in the coat, helmet bobbling around his head, too big.

Joyce rushes to them, pulling Will into her arms. "He's okay," Steve croaks out of smoke abused lungs.

Eddie rushes to him, grasps his unburnt shoulders in his hands.

"Steve! Steve? You're--you're okay--you're--"

He smiles, touches Eddie's jaw with his gloved hand. "I was hoping it would be you," he says before collapsing into Eddie's arms.

---

A concussion from falling debris, a scatter of 2nd degree burns around his torso and back, damage to his lungs and throat from the smoke, but Steve's okay. He's going to live.

When Eddie finally makes it to the hospital, it's outside visiting hours, but the nurses let him in without question. Steve's sitting up in bed reading, wearing little oval framed glasses. His hair's shorter, the burnt strands gone, but he looks good. Sweet. Hot even in his hospital gown.

"Mind if I come in?" He asks from the doorway.

Steve turns to him, bright smile on his handsome face. "Wondered when I'd be seeing you." He croaks.

Eddie tries and fails not to blush.

The room is cluttered, floor to ceiling, with flowers and cards and stuffed animals and balloons. He skirts them to sit in the chair at Steve's bedside. This close, he can finally make out the book he''s reading, has to ignore the butterflies when he realizes it's Fellowship of the Ring.

"I see you haven't been lacking for attention from your adoring fans," he says.

Steve laughs, then winces. "It's been a lot."

"I bet. How you feeling?"

"Been better. Been worse."

"It was amazing, what you did."

Steve flushes, won't meet Eddie's gaze. "Not stupid?"

"Why not both? You did a good thing. Scared me to death, but--you saved Will."

"You worried about me?"

"Of course! I--of course. I don't know if I've ever been that terrified in my life."

"Thought maybe--" Steve stops, chews at his lip.

"What?"

"You were mad at me. For doing something so risky."

"No. Steve. Never. You like helping people, I'd never--I wouldn't ask you to stop. I don't--I don't want anything to happen to you, though. And I guess," he pauses, swallows, resigns himself to what he's about to say next. "Everyone cares about you so much. You worry about being good, but you already are. You're so--I--this town? It would never be the same, if it lost you."

"Oh." Steve says, the word coming out like a puff of air. "You--I'll try to be more careful. I'll try for you--I'll--if you want, if you--"

Eddie leans forward, takes Steve's hand in his, does nothing to hide his smile. "I want, sweetheart. I want very much. And I need you to come home, you know? To me, if you want."

"I'd like that," Steve beams. "I'd like that very much."

He stays with Steve for the rest of the night, reading to him from Fellowship and watching old sitcom re-runs. He takes him home from the hospital, and he doesn't leave that night, or the next, not ever again. And if he still has that very first sexy Hawkins firefighter calendar tucked into his dresser, even twenty years later? Well, that's between him and the socks.

[sunmoonandeddie]

While I think that Steve could probably be a little possessive and jealous when it comes to Eddie, for the most part, he knows Eddie's his and he's not stressing too much BUT

Eddie Munson is undeniably a jealous little shit. He's giving Nancy his best side-eye every time she gets close to Steve, god forbid she actually touches him.

I think Eddie would, like, hiss and puff up at her. He's an angry little kitten over Steve because that's his boyfriend. He glares at the old ladies who coo over Steve at the grocery store. He huffs whenever one of his friends makes Steve laugh a little too hard.

He tells Jeff to back off because the man offers to help Steve with something one freaking time. Jeff is straight. Eddie's not taking any chances.

He'd rant to Robin that 'Nancy had her chance. She needs to back off my man' and complain to Steve about how touchy those old ladies can be.

It's a hand on Steve's back or arm anytime they're around other people just so the message is clear: this man is off limits. He is taken.

The problem is I think that Steve would enjoy it and that Nancy would think it's funny so even though they really are just family at this point, they fuck with Eddie for funsies. Nancy only backs off when she worries it will send Eddie into an early grave.

Poor Eddie-- just can't handle it.

But Steve really, really does love the more domineering side of his boyfriend so he has to get creative sometimes. 🤷

Flirt a little with the waiter, hug argyle a little longer than usual, comment on how muscular hopper is looking, etc. Not anything extreme, just enough to get Eddie all riled up.

Because Steve intends to reap every benefit of a jealous, demanding Eddie who just has to remind Steve exactly who he belongs to.

Eddie whenever someone gets too close to Steve:

Steve, watching Eddie be a jealous idiot:

[sunmoonandeddie]

Steve who is well aware he is not completely straight, been for years but never really explored it. And who knows about this? Not Robin, not Dustin, not Nancy but Tommy and Carol do. And how do they know? Because they used to be the trio. Best friends. Talking shit and sharing secrets. And at one point the conversation just went there and Steve admitted he could like a boy, could totally sleep with one. And Carol told him to no name one boy from school he would hook up.

And they’re teens and Steve’s a little shit so of course he is picking a name that will get the rise out of his friends so he smirks and says “Eddie Munson” and the reaction is exactly what he expected. They just having fun and it’s kind of a half a joke. But Steve stand by his pick and defends it. Eddie is cute. And kinda has that bad boy vibe and is really growing into his features.

But it’s still small town in Indiana. And then there’s Nancy and all the upside down shit and Steve’s “fall from grace” so it’s only ever a talk, a joke between ex-friends.

And no matter how bad the fall out was, some secrets stay secrets. And they never talked about it again. Until.

Fast forward to summer -86. When Tommy and/or Carol are back from the college to visit family and stumble upon Steve who is hanging out with no other than Eddie Munson himself. All grudges suddenly forgotten when they just have to comment “oh damn Steve. You really weren’t joking back then when you said you’d let the freak hit it” which obviously makes Steve turn cherry red screaming “shut up” because jfc this is how you say hello after months (years?) of not talking to each other? Spill all the secrets why don’t you.. Eddie is just confused because what? Also didn’t know Steve could scream that high.

And no, they’re not even together (yet).

[sunmoonandeddie]

My theory here is that Dustin thought something happened to Steve (like Eddie) and this is when he finds him alive.

[sunmoonandeddie]

OKay we all know Steve is a massive freaking cheeseball by the way he was walking up to Nancy's house with flowers to apologize when he got HIS feelings hurt-

But y'know who's a bigger cheeseball.

Eddie, drug dealer dm metalhead, Munson.

Steve is not used to being treated nicely, because y'know, he's a big tough strong man, definitely, and then Eddie comes and just flips his whole world around.

Eddie shows up with personalized mixtapes, and flowers, and poetry, and he always remembers the tiniest details, and he's doing all of it with the goofiest happy grin on his face.

But Steves favorite thing that Eddie ever did, wasn't even planned.

Wayne had a night shift, they were having a lazy night in at the trailer, and one of the neighbors, started playing a really lovey dovey song, pretty loudly.

Eddie got right up, and forced Steve to slow dance with him, even though Eddie, is a shitty dancer. Steve just snorted when Eddie tripped backwards over the coffee table and Eddie couldn't help but join him in laughing

They're both smitten.

[sunmoonandeddie]

prompt: lollipop

(originally posted on my bluesky here)

au where Steve and Robin had their bathroom floor conversation/platonic soulmate initiation ceremony way back in 1983, like two weeks after Jonathan rocked Steve’s shit and by the time everyone gets back from winter break they’ve become SteveandRobin.

Steve knows all about Robin’s crush on Tammy Thompson and Robin knows all about the fact that Steve thinks one Eddie Munson is really pretty, actually, when he’s not being a grubby little gremlin.

In this au, Steve and Nancy mutually broke it off after the whole monster-fighting thing and so for the next few months after break, SteveandRobin try to wingman each other but also the ‘you rule/you suck’ board makes an appearance, this time in an unused corner of the band room.

So far Steve hasn’t gotten a single tally in the ‘you rule’ column. He is deeply offended by this and is trying to figure out why he seems to have lost his mojo. He needs to prove to Robin that he is very suave, actually, and no, his reputation is not a fluke. Jesus.

Which leads us to a Thursday evening in late May where band practice is getting out at the same time as Hellfire club. Steve suddenly finds himself being possessed by the ghost of Casanova himself or something because the next thing he knows, he’s abandoning Robin with a quick “be right back” and swaggering up to Eddie, who eyes Steve warily before leaning up against the side of the school building with a smirk paired with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve starts, keeping it causal.

Eddie pulls the lollipop he’d been sucking on out of his mouth with a wet pop and Steve fervently doesn’t have any feelings about that whatsoever.

“Steve Harrington,” he purrs. “What can this lowly peasant do for such esteemed royalty as yourself, hmm?”

Steve raises a single eyebrow. “Well, first of all, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly Hawkins High royalty anymore. Apparently jocks and band geeks can’t be friends,” Steve adds with a roll of his eyes.

“Second of all…” Steve glances left and right, making sure there’s no one in earshot before giving Eddie a once-over and taking a deliberate step forward so the toes of their shoes are almost touching. “I think we both know you’re too pretty and too smart to be stuck as a peasant.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide for a moment before narrowing, his dimpled grin somehow managing to be sharp as a knife. “Careful, big boy. You don’t wanna play this game.”

“Who says this is a game?”

Eddie scoffs, putting his lollipop back in his mouth and straightening like he’s going to move past Steve, but Steve stops him with a hand to the wall behind Eddie’s head.

He makes sure to leave enough room for Eddie to be able to walk away if he really wants to, doesn’t want him to feel trapped or pressured in any way. But he also wants Eddie to know he’s being serious.

“Look, you can tell me to fuck off if you really want, and I will, swear to god.”

Eddie stares at him with wide eyes and slowly nods his head.

“But I really hope you don’t,” Steve continues, leaning forward until their noses are just inches from touching, “because it turns out I really have a thing for curly-headed nerds.”

Steve relishes in the way Eddie’s jaw drops open and a blush works its way over his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. It’s really fucking cute.

“I know I can’t exactly wine-and-dine you like if you were a girl, but maybe I could get us some pizza and beers and you could come over to my place one of these days?”

Steve raises his eyebrows, trying to only let a little bit of his excitement at the idea through — he doesn’t want to scare Eddie off.

Eddie stares for a moment, two. Eventually, he blurts, “Is— Is this— Are you being serious right now?” He hadn’t bothered to take out the lollipop before speaking, seems like he’s completely frozen, actually, making the question slightly garbled.

“As a heart attack.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“So?” Steve asks, biting his lower lip. He watches Eddie track the movement and gives himself a mental high-five.

“I’m— fuck, okay.” Eddie looks at Steve’s lips again before looking into his eyes incredulously. “I’m pretty sure this is a dream, but whatever, fuck it, I’ll go on a date with Steve goddamn Harrington, I guess.”

“Not dreaming,” Steve grins, finally leaning back a little bit. “And I’m gonna hold you to that,” he promises. On a whim, he reaches out and plucks Eddie’s lollipop from between his lips before placing it in his own mouth, making sure to maintain eye contact the entire time. Eddie’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he visibly swallows.

“Uh.”

“I’ll find you at lunch tomorrow, figure out what day works,” Steve says casually, leaning back and starting to walk backwards towards the parking lot. He points the lollipop at Eddie and commands, “Better not stand me up, Munson,” before putting it back in his mouth, shoving his hands in his pockets, and turning to walk back to where Robin is waiting by his car.

He doesn’t look back, even though he really really wants to, because he still wants to make sure he looks cool and aloof.

“Steven Marie,” Robin whisper yells once he’s close enough to hear her. “What the fuck was that? What did you do to Munson?”

Steve ignores her questions. “What’s he doing, Bobbie?”

Robin, bless her, answers him. “He’s just… standing there. And now he’s pulling his hair over his face and squatting. Did you break him?”

Steve grins, pleased. “Not yet.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Wait, where did you get the lollipop? You didn’t have one a few minutes ago.”

“I might’ve stolen it from Munson, right after I got him to agree to go on a date with me.”

Robin freezes, staring at him like she’s buffering as her entire worldview gets rearranged. “Steve, Stevie, I need you to know I’m so happy for you and proud of you. But also I am going to actually strangle you to death in your sleep what the actual fuck.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

+ Bonus:

Steve, 5 min later after he’s started driving to drop Robin off at home: ohmygod. Robin.

Robin: What.

Steve: Eddie and I basically kissed.

Robin: What?????

Steve: His spit is in my mouth as we speak.

Robin: wHAT??!!!?!!!

Steve: Robin stop screaming I’m having a crisis

{send me a 📝 and a one-word prompt and i will try and write a lil steddie microfic for you! (it will almost certainly be much shorter than this one but who knows, i might get Inspired™️)}

[sunmoonandeddie]

Steve: This year I lost my dear husband edgar..

Eddie: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD

Steve: Sometimes I can still hear his voice

Eddie: My full name isn’t even Edgar!

Robin: I told you not to eat the last cupcake

[sunmoonandeddie]

[sunmoonandeddie]

Steve shows up at Eddie's place with a baseball cap and a hoodie pulled tight so just his face is peeking out. It takes like an hour of Eddie pestering him until he reveals the crime scene on his head--- turns out, Steve tried to give himself highlights but botched it, and had to buzz all his hair off.

"You gotta tell me," Steve begs, running his fingers through at what's left of his hair. "How did you pull it off? Y'know, when you were in 8th grade--- you had a buzz cut and you still looked hot. Is it a bone structure thing, or what? You gotta help me, my hair was like, the only thing I had going for me."

Eddie's brain basically melts out of his ears at the idea that 1) Steve thought he was hot in 8th grade, 2) Steve thinks he has good bone structure, and 3) Steve genuinely doesn't seem to realize that even if he looked like Mr. Clean he would still be the hottest guy in Indiana

[sunmoonandeddie]

some silly comic under uwu