#bitchy supportive steve

[sideblogofthcentury]

Eddie in a self deprecating mood like: Damn Steve have you always gone for ugly bastards?

Steve refusing to accept that: Yeah, and I also tend to like people who shut the fuck up, but clearly you’re not my usual type

[kitchen-spoon]

Steddie Slice of life

A little sneaky Peaky of a new 5k Steddie slice of life fic I'll be posting on AO3 soon :)

Eddie was back a minute later, Tuna back in his arms as he crawled into bed. She settled in the divot between their legs, her head resting on Eddie’s thigh. He petted at her back looking up at Steve. “Can I bring tuna to the game?” He asked with a megawatt smile, there was mischief and determination behind his eyes that let Steve know he would be losing this battle. 

“People will think we’re crazy,” Steve tried anyway despite knowing better. 

“People already think I’m a woman until I turn around. What's a little more misdirection with a cat and a baby stroller?” Eddie grinned, waggling his brows at Steve, that big smile still on his face. 

“You want to bring her in a baby stroller?” Steve asked in disbelief, he honestly shouldn’t be surprised though. Eddie was as chaotic as they come. 

“It's the most safe and convenient way.” Eddie nodded seriously. “Plus little Miss deserves the princess treatment.” 

Steve rolled his eyes at that but relented. “You spoil her too much but, fine. You have to find a baby stroller that isn’t hundreds of dollars and cat proof it though.” He pointed at Eddie sternly. 

“You know, I’m the king of the thrift baby, I’ll make it happen.” Eddie assured with a cocky grin. Despite his eye rolls, Steve couldn’t deny it, considering he was laying on a mattress sitting in a brass bed frame Eddie found for them at the thrift store with two matching oak side tables to go with it. 

“You have until next weekend, if it isn’t done she stays home.” Steve warned. 

Eddie just smiled even wider, leaning in to give Steve a wet kiss. “Of course baby.” He began peppering kisses all over Steve’s face. “I love youuuu.” He sang. 

“I love you too.” Steve finally cracked and dropped his grumpy facade. If it made Eddie happy he didn’t care. “Now go to bed.” He chuckled and pushed Eddie away when the kisses began to tickle

[solarmorrigan]

I have a lot of thoughts about Steve who craves physical affection, who thinks of his worth in terms of what he can do for other people, and who got very drunk at high school parties. This is one of them

CW for heavily implied past dubcon (not between Eddie and Steve). Please take care

-

Eddie has never seen Steve drunk.

At least – not up close. There had been a few high school parties back in the day where Eddie had passed by the “Keg Stand King,” but since he’s come to know Steve personally (intimately), Steve has barely touched alcohol.

He’s told Eddie the story of being drugged against his will and how he doesn’t want to repeat the feeling of losing control, and how he doesn’t like not being able to drive if he needs to, and how the hangover would probably just trigger a migraine anyway – and, really, he just doesn’t drink much anymore.

Yet tonight had been a special occasion: Robin’s birthday. She herself isn’t much for alcohol (for at least some reasons that match up with Steve’s), but drinking, she said, feels like a part of the birthday experience. She’d somehow gotten Steve to match her beer for beer, for “emotional support,” and it hadn’t taken long for the both of them to become entirely inebriated.

Time has apparently greatly eroded Steve’s tolerance.

Eddie had distantly expected him to be kind of a bitchy drunk—and he had become a bit cattier, for sure—but mostly he’d just become affectionate. There had been hugs for nearly everyone, and he’d spent the latter half of the party slowly migrating into Eddie’s lap, plying him with constant kisses on the cheek and giggling ridiculously at nearly everything Eddie had said.

It had been sort of adorable (not that Eddie will tell him that; no, he’s going to sit on that information until it benefits him).

It’s a little less fun now that he’s trying to cart Steve up to his room and into bed. Steve is a bit wobbly, and a lot heavy, and is much more interested in trying to cling to Eddie like a koala and bury his face in Eddie’s neck than he is in actually walking anywhere.

“Y’know, we could cuddle to your heart’s content if you’d just let me get you to bed,” Eddie points out when he and Steve have stalled out partway down the hall, leaning against the closed door to the bathroom.

Steve hums vaguely, tightening the grip he has on Eddie’s t-shirt. “But you’re out here,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

A shiver travels down Eddie’s spine at the feeling of Steve’s warm breath ghosting across his throat, but it doesn’t go much further than a gentle, dying flutter in his gut. As affectionate as Steve has been, as hungry for contact as he’s acted all night, there’s been nothing sexual about it. It’s been all hugs and sweet kisses, not heated embraces and sloppy make outs.

Besides– Steve’s drunk. Eddie’s not going to take advantage.

He wedges a hand between himself and Steve and gently pushes Steve back.

“I’m coming to bed with you, you colossal dork,” Eddie says.

Steve blinks at Eddie, slightly unfocused. “Oh.” He finally heaves up and away from the wall, grabbing Eddie’s hand to tug him along as he weaves unsteadily down the hall. “Well why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, all affection. “Where else would I be going?”

Steve stops when they get to his room, apparently pondering the answer.

“Away?” he finally volunteers, half-questioning, as if he’s hoping he’s wrong.

“No, baby,” Eddie assures him immediately, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “I’m staying. Gotta make sure you don’t choke on your tongue after you pass out, anyway.”

“’m not that drunk,” Steve says; he rolls his eyes and then immediately seems to regret it, reaching out for Eddie’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Uh huh,” Eddie drawls. “Okay, time for bed, big boy.”

Grumbling, Steve releases Eddie to shuffle over to the bed, where he flops down on his back with a sigh, jeans and all.

“Alright, not exactly what I meant, but I can work with this,” Eddie says, kneeling on the bed by Steve’s hip.

They’d managed to ditch their shoes in the entryway, but they’re otherwise fully dressed, and Steve is going to be uncomfortable if he tries to spend the whole night in his belt and jeans.

Steve squirms a bit when Eddie reaches for his belt buckle, as if he’s not quite sure whether to move away or not.

“Eddie…” he groans – an exasperated sort of groan, rather than the usual way he groans Eddie’s name when he’s squirming on the bed.

“Just hold still,” Eddie shushes him with a quick pat to the hip.

He gets as far as pulling the tongue of the belt through the buckle before Steve’s hands shoot out and grab Eddie by the wrists. His grip is surprisingly strong, considering how uncoordinated he’d been tonight, and Eddie stills immediately.

“Steve?” Eddie looks up to see Steve staring down at him, wide-eyed and apprehensive; hell, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he might say Steve looks… sort of frightened.

“Not– not tonight,” Steve says, enunciating carefully, and Eddie’s confusion only increases.

He doesn’t want his belt off tonight? Is that what he’s worked up about?

In the wake of Eddie’s baffled lack of response, Steve only grows more insistent, tugging Eddie’s hands away from his waist.

“Not while I’m–” Steve breaks off, licking his lips nervously. He shakes his head and adds quietly, “Please.”

Brows furrowed, Eddie stares at Steve a second longer. “Not while you’re…?” Then the penny drops, and Eddie jerks away from Steve so quickly that Steve barely has time to let go. “Oh shit, no. That’s not– no, I’m not– Steve, fuck, no, that’s not what I’m doing.”

Steve stares up at Eddie, the anxiety he’s a little too drunk to mask still lingering in his eyes.

“I promise, I was only trying to get your belt and pants off so you’d be more comfortable. For sleeping!” Eddie says quickly. “But you can keep them on if you want. Hell, put on more layers. Do you want a jacket?”

Distantly, Eddie realizes he’s rambling and tries to stop; it doesn’t seem to be helping.

“I– I know I was kissing you,” Steve says, then glances away with a grimace, seeming a bit more sober now. “Practically throwing myself at you. ’m sorry, I just–”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t be,” Eddie says firmly. “Even if you were throwing yourself at me—even though you weren’t; like, I can tell the difference between cuddly you and horny you, okay?—but even if you had been, you can still say no. You can always say no. But I swear, Steve, I was only trying to get you comfy, that’s all.”

For a moment, Steve just breathes, processing Eddie’s words as carefully as his sloshed brain will allow.

“Are you still going to stay?” he finally asks. “Even though I don’t want to have sex?”

“Of course,” Eddie blurts, some dizzying combination of baffled, anxious, and incensed. “I’m only gonna leave if you tell me to.”

And even then, he’d only go as far as the couch downstairs (just in case).

Slowly, Steve nods, then reaches for his belt to pull it off in a series of determined, clumsy movements. He drops it on the floor when he’s done but makes no move to remove his jeans.

Eddie, following suit, resigns himself to an uncomfortable night. He strips off his jewelry and his own belt but leaves his pants on.

All the lights go out, save for a small, dim lamp on Steve’s desk, and then Eddie crawls on top of the covers with Steve, pulling the blanket from the end of the bed—a gift from Claudia—up over both of them.

A little of the churning, anxious mess in Eddie’s chest eases when Steve immediately plasters himself to his side, resting his head on Eddie’s chest (and Eddie just knows there’s going to be drool there come morning, but he can’t bear to move him). All the same, even as he hears Steve’s breathing even out into sleep, Eddie can’t get his mind to rest.

What has he done to give Steve the impression that he’d try to fuck him when he’s too drunk to really say yes? What has he done to make him think he’d leave if Steve doesn’t put out?

Nothing.

Genuinely and truly, Eddie can’t think of anything. There have been plenty of times they’ve hung out, even shared a bed, and they haven’t had sex. Sure, they’re active, but they do actually do other things together.

There have been other nights where sex has seemed like a sure thing, only to be halted by an apologetic look from Steve and the start of a migraine. There have been times Eddie’s called it off because his anxiety has reared up and bit him in the ass. There’s never been anger over it.

That leaves two options: it’s either an imagined scenario stirred up by anxiety and insecurity and alcohol, or… it’s based on a different experience, in a different time and place.

All things considered, Eddie has a terrible, sinking feeling that he knows which one it is.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 34

part 1 | part 33 | ao3

Steve ducks his head against the flurries falling outside The Hideout as he makes his way for the entrance and tries really, really hard to not to feel totally out of place.

He agreed to meet Robin and her friends here separately because he was coming straight from a shift, but he’s kind of regretting that now. The only black thing he had in his wardrobe that was at all weather appropriate was a tight-fitting black knit pullover with a high collar and a silver zipper down the front, and he feels like some dorky, supportive golf dad coming to cheer on his rebellious son after a long day out on the green. The light wash jeans and silver wristwatch aren’t really helping matters.

Jesus. He should have let Robin dress him.

The guy at the ticket counter seems to agree because he gives Steve a weird look when he approaches and asks, “Are you lost?”

“Uh, no.” And if it comes out slightly more bitchy than he intended, well—

“Five dollars,” the guy scowls.

Strike that. Maybe it didn’t come out nearly bitchy enough. “The flyer says it’s two.”

The guy eyes him up with a tight, sarcastic smile and pops his chewing gum. “For you it’s five.”

Oh, my god. Operation Woo Your Man might be dead before it starts, because Steve’s about to smash the ticket booth window and pummel this fucking guy.

“I already got yours!” Robin calls brightly, jogging up behind him on the sidewalk and waving a lime green wristband. “He’s good,” she tells the guy, then tells Steve, “Eddie said to give you this.”

Ticket guy frowns, and Steve gloats as Robin fixes the bracelet to his wrist. Yeah, buddy, you heard that right; I'm with the band.

Robin drags him into the bar, and he stops her just inside the door, hugging her tight enough to lift her up on tiptoe, smacking a kiss to the side of her head. He jostles her around until something in her neck pops, and when he lets her go she groans, “Oh, my god, do that again.”

She spins around, crossing her arms over her chest. Steve grabs her by the elbows; shakes her like a piggy bank until her spine goes crack-crack-crack.

“Wow,” she sighs dreamily when he sets her down. “Marry me.”

“You can’t just marry me for my massage services.”

“I know; it’s tragic. Anyway, come on.” She takes his hand. “Everyone’s already at the table.”

“Who’s everyone?”

Robin doesn’t answer — probably can’t hear him over the loud rock music pouring through the speakers — but she weaves them through the venue, skirting the edge of the main floor.

Steve’s never actually been in here, but it’s pretty much what he expected: black walls, black floor, black leather jackets on the handful of regulars. The stage is off to their left, already set up with Eddie’s band’s gear by the looks of it, though he doesn’t see them anywhere. Must be backstage getting ready.

In front of the stage is a small, empty dance floor, flanked by rickety tables with mismatched chairs, and overhead there’s a balcony with a sound booth and more seats. To their right, the main bar: a long, ancient dark wood counter that’s been graffitied to absolute shit, covered in band stickers and beer labels and ‘so and so wuz here’s, and just up ahead, lining the far wall, Steve spots a row of wraparound booths.

Dark red leather, the stuffing spilling out through time-worn splits. Only one of them is occupied. Steve can’t make out much from this distance beyond the vague shape of the people sitting there, but considering it’s the only table with any chicks at it, he figures that’s their group.

Suddenly, Robin stops. Turns around to look at him; drops his hand and bites her lip. “Okay, so. Don’t get mad…”

Steve narrows his eyes. He knows that guilty grimace. Whatever it is, he’s definitely about to get mad about it, or at very least annoyed. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Robin.”

“Okay!” She steps to the side, and he marches toward the table to try and get a better view, Robin trailing after him, rambling, “For the record, I really didn’t do it, I swear! But, like— well, Beth is friends with Fred, and Fred is on the school paper, so I guess he just—”

The details shift into focus: tiny frame, rigid posture. Big, curly dark brown hair.

Oh, son of a bitch. No. No.

Nancy Wheeler’s here.

—

part 35

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[violetsteve]

If you prefer, this is also posted on AO3

After the almost end of the world, Steve decides he’s going to put the moves on Eddie Munson.

Robin may or may not laugh in his face when he announces it.

The thing is, despite Robin almost laughing him out of the building, the thing is Steve is still figuring out his sexuality. He knows he likes girls, he’s always liked girls, but then Robin pointed out that maybe he couldn’t figure out what he wanted because he wasn’t looking in the right place and Steve realized she was right . Sure, Robin had meant more of a ‘ stop going after girls who are traditionally pretty and from well off families and try going out with girls whose company you actually enjoy’ and not a ‘ hey, dudes are kinda hot, too, right? It was real weird how transfixed you seemed to be on Eddie Munsons lips while we were actively fighting demon monsters,’ but Steve has always been good at reading in between the lines. Or, more like inserting what he wants in the gaps of what people leave unsaid.

So, no, Robin did not tell Steve to open his eyes and realize that straight guys don’t exactly think about how another guys lips will look slick with spit, how they’ll feel under the pressure of his thumb, what the sweet satisfaction of them partying so readily under his will feel like, but she did tell him to broaden his horizons and honestly, they were basically the same thing.

Which is why Steve feels like she should be more supportive of his plans to woo Eddie Munson onto his couch—and maybe, if he’s feeling ambitious, eventually into his bed.

“Robin, come on . I’m serious!” Steve will never admit, even under Russian torture again, that he whines it. He’s coming to Robin as a sounding board, not so she can make fun of him. If he wants someone to make fun of his lack of prowess, he would go talk to Dustin. 

Or, yeah on second thought no. He’s not actually sure his ego could take that much of a hit at the moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gasps, gripping the—newly rebuilt and polished—family video counter in front of her. “I just—Steve, that’s-that’s so ambitious . You literally just came out to me less than a week ago and you’re already talking about getting with a boy. And Eddie Munson at that.”

Steve scowls at her, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that he knows looks bitchy, but he can’t help it because—

“Don’t say his name like that. He literally almost died to save us all. He’s not fucking dirty .”

Robin immediately sobers, a guilty, but irritated look on her face. “That’s not how I meant it, Steve, and you know it. Don’t get bitchy at me just because you’re feeling sensitive about your feelings for a boy.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Steve isn’t really angry at her for laughing—Robin makes fun of him at least 7 times a day, Steve would be more concerned if she didn’t make at least one joke about this—and he isn’t even mad at her for putting a weird emphasis on Eddie’s name. No, he’s all twisted up about his feelings and he’s never been good at expressing them, let alone talking about them. He’s feeling self conscious and his skin is prickling with embarrassment and the easiest thing to do is lash out about it.

“That’s not—“ Steve cuts himself off, looking away from Robin as his shoulders slump. “You’re right,” he mumbles. “Sorry. I just. I wanna fucking kiss him so bad , Rob, and that freaks me out a little.” Steve untucks one of his arms to scrub a hand over his face, leaving the other one tucked around his waist to protect his vulnerable bits.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs, closing the distance between them so she can settle her hands on his shoulders. “I get it. Do you think I acted like a sane person the first time I realized I wanna kiss girls? I think I cried for a week. Kerry the stuffed Koala had to go to therapy because of all of my crying. It was a serious time in the Buckley house.”

Steve smiles behind his hand. He loves her so much. She’s really his best friend. He’s so thankful for her.

“You still cry about kissing girls,” Steve says, rather than admitting any of that. She already knows she’s smart, Steve doesn’t need to add any more to her ego. It just gives her more brain to bully him with.

He drops the hand covering his face to look at her. “Only now it’s more of a,” Steve puts on a high pitched, whiny voice, “‘why do I have to go to work when I could be spending all day making out with my girlfriend.’” He brings both of his hands up to clasp in front of his chest, batting his eyelashes at her in a fake-coy way.

Robin shoves at him, catches him off guard and he goes stumbling backwards into the counter, laughing the whole way. 

“Shut up , you absolute dickhead, ” she all but screeches, reaching out to give his chest another shove for good measure. “You literally have no room to talk considering you started this shift by announcing your intentions to, quite literally, crawl into Eddie’s lap and kiss him stupid . That’s almost verbatim what you said, Steve.”

Steve’s still chuckling as he rights his position a little, leaning back against the counter more comfortably. “Yeah, I did say that.” He sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth before he continues with, “I really, really wanna sit on his lap and kiss him until he can’t focus, Rob.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but it’s more fond than annoyed. Steve can tell—he’s been on the receiving end of about 90 percent of Robin’s eye rolls, he’s getting good at distinguishing the emotions behind each one.

“I still can’t believe you have a crush on Eddie Munson of all people. He’s so weird ,” She laughs, but Steve can tell that that, too, is fond. Robin and Eddie have a weird friendship. They geek out over obscure instruments and the nuance of tacky movies together. Steve doesn’t get it, but he enjoys watching how expressive both of them can be. He once watched Eddie climb onto a table while arguing with Robin about one of their movies. Robin followed him up shortly after, though, so Steve isn’t sure why she thinks the weird is limited to Eddie.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, and he’s man enough to admit that it sounds dreamy . God, he’s pathetic over Eddie. It scares the shit out of him. “You know, the other day he gave me a rock. It wasn’t even, like, a cool rock. It was literally just a rock. When I asked him why he just shrugged and was like ‘I dunno, it made me think of you.’”

Robin’s grin grows. “Oh my God. What did you do with the rock?”

Steve shoots her a disgruntled look. “What do you think I did with the rock? I put in my pocket and then brought it home and set it on my nightstand. Eddie gave it to me, I wasn’t just going to throw it on the ground again. That’s rude.”

Robin absolutely cackles at this, there’s no other way to describe it. She’s awash in glee as she claps her hands together a few times. “ Jesus , Steve. You’ve got it so bad for this man.”

“God,” Steve mutters, running a hand over his face again. “That’s not even the worst part, Rob. He like. He grabs his utensils with his whole fist when he eats. It’s so weird, and it’s so messy . It makes fuck all sense. He doesn't even grab a pencil that way. Just his fucking eating utensils . 

“And he walks so chaotic. He just randomly breaks into a sprint. Just starts fucking running out of nowhere. And he bounces. As if the random running wasn’t enough, he just fucking starts jumping. Sometimes he jumps at me, and it’s all I can do to actually catch him before he eats dirt. Or- or he’ll just. Spin. Just twirl in the middle of the sidewalk while still carrying on a conversation.” Steve slumps, his back getting slightly scraped against the counter as he sinks to his butt.

“The man has zero regard for personal space and he always makes way too intense of eye contact. Sometimes he’ll use one of his character voices in the middle of an otherwise totally normal conversation, and he’s always climbing on things. He’s loud and he’s weird and I wanna wrap my fingers around the collar of his shirt, shove him against a wall and then shove my tongue down his throat , jesus christ. ” Steve buries his face in his knees, his mind playing an endless loop of Eddie smiling with those stupid lips that are always cherry red and raw from his constant gnawing. Steve wants to bite them for him.

“Oh, my God, Steve.” Robing sinks down to sit across from him. “This is pathetic . I, like, knew you had a crush on Eddie but this is like. Dangerous territory. Like, the next step might be the L word level territory.”

Steve makes a small squeaking noise, his face still buried in his knees. Robin’s words hint at something that Steve is so not ready to admit to himself yet. She’s hitting way too close to something Steve has been avoiding actively and vehemently since he realized the attraction he feels for boys is decidedly not of the straight variety.

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then, like the angel she so clearly is, Robin says, “So, wanna tell me about operation ‘crawl into Eddie’s lap and makeout with him?’”

Steve laughs, the tightness in his chest slowly easing. He lifts his head, and then spills his guts.

***

The plan starts simply. First, he needs to get Eddie alone . No annoying tagalongs to potentially interrupt.

It’s easier said than done. For two days straight, Steve asks Eddie to hang out and, somehow, one of the kids manages to weasel into their plans.

It’s driving Steve nuts.  

He casually asks Eddie to watch a movie, give him a proper education like him and Robin are always going on about, and Dustin overhears and invites himself.

He asks Eddie to go for a walk, makes an excuse about it being gorgeous outside while he plots ways for the walk to end right outside his house, isn’t that neat, but Lucas and Max overhear and suddenly it’s a group affair.

He asks Eddie to get milkshakes, plans to lure him back to his house with the promise of complete control of Steve’s record player, but El overhears and asks if she can tag along and Steve just can’t look into her big, earnest eyes and tell her no. He’s not a monster.

So they get milkshakes with El, and it’s fun . Of course it’s fun, but Steve is getting desperate . It’s been a little over a week since he hatched his mad plan with Robin and he’s about to start climbing the walls with anticipation.

It doesn’t help that Eddie has a mother fucking oral fixation. At every opportunity he’s either putting stuff in his mouth or chewing on something. It’s fucking rude, is what it is. It’s like he doesn’t even realize Steve is suffering.

It all finally comes to a head a full week and four days after his conversation with Robin on the floor of Family Video. He’s stopping by Eddie’s house to grab something Dustin left behind because Dustin asked and he’s nice . It’s maybe also because it’s a great excuse to see Eddie, but Dustin sure as shit doesn’t need to know that that’s the sole reason Steve said he will.

Eddie is slightly bent over, riffling through his Dungeons and Dorks stuff, and Steve is trying so hard to pretend like he’s not entirely focusing on his ass and the line of exposed skin above his belt. If Eddie turns around right now, he’s busted for sure.

Eddie’s just mentioned some kind of dragon when he lets out a triumphant noise, his story coming to an abrupt halt as he spins on his heel to face Steve.

“Aha!” He exclaims, thrusting a notebook in Steve's direction. 

Steve automatically reaches out to take it, his fingers brushing over the backs of Eddie’s in the switch over. Eddie bites his bottom lip at the contact, avoiding Steve’s gaze, and suddenly all Steve is thinking about is his mouth.

Steve debates with himself for a moment. This isn’t really how he planned to seduce his way into Eddie Munson’s lap, but he’s adaptable. If the years of almost apocalypses have taught Steve anything, it’s that sometimes you have to make do with what you have.

And what Steve has is an empty trailer save the two of them, and a couch less than ten feet away. He’s got the object of his affections standing in front of him, and Steve decides to adapt.

He wets his own lips, stepping towards Eddie. His hand is still holding Eddie’s hostage over the notebook.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve murmurs, ducking his head so he can look up through his lashes.

Steve watches Eddie’s breath catch, watches him stutter over his next sentence.

“Y-yeah,” he breathes out, his eyes flicking between Steve’s eyes and his mouth at a rapid speed. “Of c-course. I mean, it happens. Kids forget things. I’m sure Dustin just wanted to, like, go over the last session's notes for anything he missed.”

“Of course,” Steve agrees, taking another step into Eddie’s space. He’s aware that he’s primarily staring at Eddie’s lips, which is probably rude, but he can’t help it. They’re wet and shiny and Steve has been thinking about them an obsessive amount for the last week and a half.

“We’re, um, I-I mean they’re going against a red dragon,” Eddie continues. Steve’s aware of this. It’s what Eddie had been telling him when he’d found the notebook. “They’re very powerful, almost impossible to defeat.”

“Are they?” Steve’s only half following the conversation, but that’s not saying much. He has a hard time keeping up with the DnD talk on a regular day.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie says, and then he’s off. He starts spitting words so fast Steve wouldn’t be able to keep up even if he were paying complete attention.

“Eddie,” Steve says, but Eddie is still talking, still mumbling along about the red dragon.

“Eddie,” Steve tries again, but it’s like he’s shouting in an empty room. He knows Eddie knows he’s talking to him, can tell by how wide Eddie’s eyes are, how he’s not even trying to not slur his rapidfire words together. If Eddie was talking about dragons for the hell of it, he’d be gesticulating and probably climbing on things. As it were, he’s got his gaze fixed on Steve, eyes comically wide as his words rush together—barely getting one out before the next slew rush into it in a truly amusing word traffic jam.

Eddie’s nervous , and fuck if that doesn’t thrill Steve to his core. Steve takes the final step towards him to completely close the distance and—

Eddie takes a step back, his words stuttering along with Steve’s heart in his chest. He wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t expecting Eddie to back away from him so quickly. Steve has half a second to be hurt, to mentally kick himself because get a fucking clue , Harrington, before he catches Eddie’s eyes darting down to his lips, his tongue unconsciously swiping along his lower lip before his gaze skitters back up to Steve’s.

And, oh, yeah , Steve has him exactly where he wants him. Eddie isn’t stepping back because he doesn’t want Steve. No, he’s stepping back because he’s prey . Steve is stalking towards him with a single minded focus and Eddie is skittering backwards like a scared rabbit—bouncing back step by step as Steve approaches until his back collides with the wall. That, finally, seems to knock all their air out of Eddie. The dragon conversation dies on his lips as Steve finally—fucking finally —closes the remaining distance between them. He reaches out, cupping Eddie's cheek in one hand, his jaw in the other, all while pressing up against Eddie from hip to chest.

“ Eddie, ” Steve murmurs, his eyes hooding. This time, Steve feels Eddie’s breath catch, feels the way a tremor works its way through Eddie’s body. He’s staring up at Steve with wide, wild eyes. He looks like a deer caught in a trap—ready to break his leg trying to get away if he needs to.

Steve isn’t sure why that makes him feel a little wild, but it does.

He stretches his thumb out to swipe across Eddie's bottom lip—already bitten and red from Eddie’s nervous chewing. God , it drives Steve crazy . He has a half-hysterical thought about offering his own up for Eddie to chew on when he’s nervous. Eddie makes him crazy .

Steve licks at his own lips as he watches the way his thumb catches and drags and the swollen skin of Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie’s trembling in earnest now, and Steve feels his pulse thundering in his ears. He wants to kiss Eddie so bad his fucking toes are curling with the anticipation.

He flicks his gaze up, away from Eddie’s lips up to his eyes and he has to fight back a groan. Eddie looks fucking wrecked and Steve hasn’t even kissed him yet. His eyes are wide and wild, his pupils blown and there’s a scarlet flush in his cheeks. He’s fucking panting against Steve’s face and he can’t take it any more. He really, really can’t. He has to kiss him—screw anticipation, screw driving Eddie past the brink. He needs and he needs now.

“ Eddie, ” Steve practically gasps . “Eddie, please.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his body unconsciously rocks forward, seeking even more of Eddie out. “Wanna kiss you so bad, please say I can, please—”

And before Steve can get another plea out, Eddie’s slamming his head forward with enough force to knock their teeth together in an uncomfortable clack ; enough force that their noses knock together in a painful way.

But Steve doesn't care . He doesn’t care because Eddie’s lips are on his and he feels like there’s liquid fire coursing through his veins. He feels lit up from the inside out as Eddie finally, finally touches him back. He fists a hand in the back of Steve’s shirt, the other winding through Steve’s hair and fuck it’s finally happening. After night upon night of imagining what kissing Eddie Munson would be like, Steve’s finally doing it.

And goddamn is he doing it. Eddie’s lips are slick against his, hot and encouraging . They slide together in a way that has Steve’s mind going blissfully blank, his only thoughts being hotwetyesmore.  

He kisses him messy, lips moving together in a too fast pace that neither of them can keep track of; bruising force in the way their lips slide, spit sliping from their parted lips in a slow trickle that has Steve’s fingers curling against Eddie’s jaw.

He uses that hand to tilt Eddie’s head up slightly, angling it enough that Steve can get his bottom lip between his own and suck slightly. The first slid of Eddie’s lip between Steve’s own has him seeing fucking stars . 

A punched out groan breaks free from Eddie’s throat and he rocks forward into Steve, seeking more . The hand in the middle of his back pulls and Steve is helpless to do anything but push Eddie more firmly into the wall. He knows it has to hurt, has to be restricting Eddie’s breathing with how tightly they’re pressed together, but he can’t take enough focus away from Eddie’s mouth to care . Plus, if Eddie minds that much he wouldn’t be pulling Steve closer .

Eddie breathes a wet gasp into Steve’s mouth when he takes his teeth to the lip still tucked between his own, and Steve can’t help but let out a gasp of his own. Eddie tastes fucking phenomenal. He can taste the lingering tobacco on his tongue, the salty tang of the popcorn he must have had earlier, and just the overwhelming taste of Eddie. Hot, sweet, fucking sublime. Steve‘s never been a particularly religious man, but he feels like he’s drinking heaven straight from Eddie’s mouth. With every gasp, every moan, every brush of Eddie’s tongue, he feels one step closer to absolution. It’s addicting .

God , he wants more. He wants Eddie’s hands all over him, on bare skin. He wants those deft musicians fingers to snake into his hair, tug a bit. He wants Eddie over him and under him and—

He stills suddenly, a thought occurring to him. The line that had triggered this whole thing—his announcement to Robin back in Family Video—and suddenly there’s a burning need in Steve’s gut. God, he needs to sit in Eddie’s lap right now. Needs to feel his strong thighs under him, needs Eddie’s hands on his ass and his tongue in his mouth.

“ Fuck, ” Steve bites out when he pulls back. Tearing his mouth away from Eddie’s is so much harder than it has any right to be.

Eddie’s staring at Steve with glassy eyes, his lips shiny and red and oh fuck even his chin is glistening with their spit. Steve wants to devour him.

“Go sit on the couch,” Steve says, and is pleasantly surprised that his voice only sounds a little rough, a little shaky.

“What?” Eddie croaks out, staring at Steve for a beat. Then, miracle of miracles, he does it. He stares at Steve the whole time, the glassy look getting a little clearer, and Steve thinks that simply will not do.

The minute Eddie is seated, Steve’s crawling his way into his lap. He wedges his knees into the crease at the back of the couch, shuffling as far forward as he can so their chests are pressing together, their clothed crotches aligning. Then, without giving Eddie a chance to adjust, he drops down, pressing the full weight of his ass into Eddie’s thighs and, by proximity, his dick.

“ Jesus Christ ,” Eddie swears, his hands shooting out to grab at Steve’s ass on instinct. Steve almost giggles . It’s exactly what he wants.

“You can just call me Steve,” he mutters, and before Eddie can reply, he’s sweeping in and claiming Eddie’s lips again. Eddie huffs against his mouth, but let’s Steve have the last word. Steve’s glad because he has plans .

Plans that start with Steve winding those thick curls around his fingers as he slides his lips against Eddie’s. Eddie pushes his head back into Steve’s hands like a cat, and it makes Steve smile into their kiss, which makes Eddie smile into the kiss. It’s like a domino effect—once Steve feels Eddie’s smile against his, he starts giggling like a schoolgirl. He can’t help it, this feels unreal in the best possible way.

Then Eddie’s off, giggling back into Steve’s mouth. They’re both just sitting there giggling at each other, eyes squinted and happy . God, Steve feels euphoric in this moment, perched in Eddie’s lap like it’s his throne, with Eddie’s hands on his ass.

Eddie pulls back after a moment, when their smiles are too wide to actually kiss. He brings a hand up to gently brush a strand of hair away from Steve’s eyes, tucking the long lock behind his ear before putting his hand back on Steve’s ass. 

“You’re unbelievable, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, eyes so full of affection that Steve feels his insides turn to mush. He squirms in Eddie’s laps, ducking his head to mouth at Eddie’s neck because if he stares into his eyes any longer he’s going to do something stupid . Stupid like admit that he’s pretty fucking sure he’s in love with Eddie, has been since he gave him that dumb rock for no decernable reason other than he wanted to, because he was thinking of Steve.

Steve tongues at the tendon in Eddie’s neck that’s stretched taunt, rubs his nose along his jaw and up to the hollow under his ear. Eddie laughs, tilting his head sideways to give Steve easier access.

“Oh, now you’re gonna be shy? After you practically pounced on me earli—”

Eddie’s words cut off in a choked groan as Steve bites, hard , at the tendon he was just showing attention to.

“ Steve, ” Eddie gasps, but Steve doesn’t let him do any other talking. No, he’s not going to let Eddie derail him again. So, he dives back for Eddie’s mouth, licking into it, not slowing down and not giving Eddie a chance to catch up. He smooths his tongue alongside Eddie’s, lets Eddie push back against it with his own for a millisecond, before he’s switching tactics—licking behind the top row of Eddie’s teeth, sliding his tongue over Eddie’s bottom lip. 

Eddie squeezes his ass at the sudden onslaught, and Steve can’t help the small jerk his body gives at that. He grinds down, a gasp trapped in the humid air between them as sharp waves of pleasure shoot up his spine. He’s trapped in between Eddie’s lips and his hands and he feels like he’s high with it.

He’s enjoying himself so much.

He slides his tongue along Eddie’s again, enjoys the way it's slightly rough and gloriously slick against his own. Enjoys the way it makes his pulse thrum a little faster, his fingers grip a little tighter where they’re fisted in Eddie’s hair—the way it makes Eddie squeeze a little tighter, which makes Steve grind down a little harder.

Steve feels the evidence of Eddie’s interest, has been feeling it, and knows Eddie has to be aware of Steve’s own. And Steve’s fantasized about Eddie’s lips for so long that he’s tried to keep it to just that—tried to focus on the heady drag of lips on lips—but it’s hard to ignore the way Steve’s own hips are twisting down, seeking as much of Eddie as possible. Hard to ignore the way Eddie has his own feet planted on the floor, meeting Steve’s hips with firm thrusts of his own.

They’re sharing humid air and sharp gasps, their lips swollen and honestly sore . Steve’s lips ache in the best way he’s ever felt, and Steve doesn’t want to stop. Wants to sit right here on Eddie’s strong thighs, wants to feel Eddie’s teeth nipping at the too sensitive skin of his mouth, wants to kiss Eddie for the rest of his life .

They kiss and kiss and kiss, and Steve has never just kissed someone like this. He’s never kissed just to feel, kissed just for the pleasure of it with no expectations for what’s to follow. He feels intoxicated. He’s utterly, wholly blissed out on Eddie Munson’s mouth and he never wants it to end.

They kiss for so long that Steve has honestly started to lose feeling in his lips. It’s weird feeling them so sore, so numb. But they are, so he slowly, so slowly pulls back. Leaning down for a few lingering pecks as he puts a little distance between their mouths.

Eddie’s mouth is bright red, spit slick and so tempting. Steve watches with fascination as a single string of spit connects their lips, stretching until he’s put enough distance between them that it breaks.

Steve bites his lip on a moan, thinks that’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

He meets Eddie’s gaze. His eyes are wild, pupils blown out. His hair is an absolute disaster from the way Steve’s been running his fingers through it, and his cheeks are flushed so prettily. Steve can’t resist sneaking one more kiss in, lingering around afterwards to rub their noses together.

“Hi,” Steve finally murmurs and fuck, is that his voice? Jesus, he sounds wrecked.

“Hi,” Eddie says back, his smile verging on loopy. “Did you know that some corvids can understand physics?”

Steve stares at him for a beat, a little stunned and a lot confused by the abrupt topic switch. Eddie stares back, a look on his face that Steve can only take for regret, his already pink face is turning positively crimson. 

It’s dead quiet for a moment, then Steve bursts into laughter. His chest absolutely swells with affection, with, fuck it, love. God damn , he can’t deny it any longer. The love he feels for this boy sitting under him is overwhelming at the best of times, and it feels like it’s just bursting out of him at this moment. He’s coming apart at the seams with his feelings for Eddie, and he’s done trying to pretend that they’re anything but that.

“Oh my God, ” Eddie mutters, bringing his hands up to hide his face. It’s so endearing. Steve is endeared. “Sorry, fuck. I don’t know why I just said that.”

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Steve’s still grinning down at Eddie, moving his hands to clasp around Eddie’s wrists, trying to pry his hands away. He never wants to not be looking at Eddie. He’s so fucking weird and Steve likes him so much. “I like you so fucking much .”

Eddie lets Steve pull his hands away, and he…there’s no other word for it, Eddie just absolutely lights up. It’s like Steve’s staring directly at the sun. Eddie is beaming up at him, his smile so wide that his eyes are basically closed. He has laugh lines, and Steve is already obsessed with them, already thinking of ways to make Eddie smile this wide, this radiant all the time.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve confirms. “Just ask Robin. I’ve been whining about it for weeks .”

Eddie laughs again, his grin not dimming in the slightest, and Steve just has to taste it—has to get his mouth around Eddie’s happiness. So, he swoops back in, feels Eddie’s laughter transfer to him via their connected mouths, feels a piece of himself that’s long been looking for a home finally slot into place.

[artiststarme]

Officer Phil Callahan wasn’t often seen in a positive light. Most people viewed him as immature, impulsive, condescending, and a poor excuse for a poor excuse of a police officer. However, no one could accuse him of being a bad brother. He prided himself on always being there for his little bro and his brother knew he could count on him too for anything. As such, Phil was the first person he went to after receiving the beating of all beatings.

So, when Phil opened his front door to see his baby bro leaning against the doorframe for support with his bruised face bearing more resemblance to a blueberry, he dropped everything to help him.

“Holy goddamn shit, Steve! What the hell happened to your face?!” He ushered Steve inside and settled him on the well-worn couch adorning his small living room.

Phil didn’t know what had happened to his brother and he didn’t know who had tried to pulverize his face but he did know whomever had committed this atrocity would pay. He didn’t care if he had to arrest Jonathan Byers again or face off against the powerful Hagan parents to cuff Tommy H in public, he was going to make someone suffer.

His rage only grew as he watched Steve dry heave and vomit for hours on end. Phil aspired to return the beating to the perpetrator that gave Steve the headache of all headaches and physical damage to boot. He took care of Steve through the night by waking him up every four hours, rubbing his back through the dry heaves, and giving him water to keep him hydrated. As soon as he seemed stable enough to be left alone though, Phil was badgering him for the name of the attacker.

He waited just long enough to hear, “Billy Hargrove, but don’t-“ before he was off.

Dressed in his Sheriff’s Deputy uniform with his gun on his hip, he set off to find the sack of shit that hurt his brother. Would this look bad in front of the townspeople? Definitely. Could it hurt his job and his position in the department? Most probably. But he would do what he had to do and probably beat the shit out of that dirtbag in revenge.

As expected, the Californian hippie delinquent was standing by his Camaro in front of the school with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Phil pulled the patrol care right up to his bumper before storming up to him and shoving him against his own drivers side door. Billy’s cigarette dropped ashes against Phil’s forearm but the rage inside of him burned even more than the fluttering ash. The eyes of nearly the entire student body rested on him but he didn’t let it phase him.

“You roughed up Steve yesterday,” Phil growled.

“You’re crazy. Who the fuck-“

“You’re gonna shut up and listen, buttercup. If you even think about touching Steve again, you kinky shit, I will make your life a living hell. Stay away from my brother.”

“Whatever, man. Did Steve go running home to mommy-“

He didn’t even register his just flying until Billy’s head whipped to the side followed by a pain in his hand. Shit, he just hit a kid. A bitchy one, but a kid nonetheless. “I’m sorr-“

“Is that all you got? I guess you and Stevie-boy both hit like the pansies you are.” Billy sneered at him with blood coating his teeth.

This little prick. Phil wasn’t going to let some high school bully get away with this. First he tries to kill his brother and then he starts talking shit about the both of them? Nope, no siree. Phil pauses but a minute before pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt and latching them around a struggling Hargove’s wrists. “Okay, you little shit. You’re under arrest for felony assault, attempted murder, and anything else I can throw at you. No school for you today, now get in my car.”

“Are you fucking serious?!” He yelled, bloody spittle spitting from his lips.

“Yep, just like that concussion you gave my brother. Now shut up and stop resisting before I have to shoot you.” He wouldn’t actually shoot this kid but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Phil knew the charges probably wouldn’t stick but he still felt lighter, relieved, that he had gotten at least a little bit of justice for Steve. And if the increasingly panicked murmurings in the backseat brought a smile to his face? Well, no one was any the wiser.

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(The final part of November Paramedic; part 6 is here and the AO3 version is here. If you want to avoid the smut, you should read on AO3.)

Eddie's apartment is full of song, but for probably the first time since he moved in it's not metal.

Max sings This Old Heart of Mine with gusto, her attention glued to her fingers as they move on the fretboard. She's in an awkward position, sitting slumped and with her leg propped onto five pillows on the coffee table. An elastic bandage is wrapped around her knee. Steve was right – she did exacerbate the injury by walking on it, and had to spend the next three days on bed rest. The knee already looks a lot better, less swollen but likely still tender, not that she's uttered a peep about it. Today is the first day she's been up and running, though not without support. Since crutches is the uncoolest kind of mobility aid Eddie took it upon himself to dig out a cane from his closet for her to use. When he asked if she liked it, she said it was great for thwacking people; he assumes that means 'yes'.

On the other end of the couch, Gareth taps along on a handheld drum. Max felt like she kept losing the rhythm and wanted extra help. Eddie is certain she was doing fine, but hey, if it calms her last-minute nerves, so be it.

The song ends, the last note lingering in the otherwise silent room. Max heaves a sigh, guitar slipping from her grip as she relaxes into her seat.

Gareth is beaming with pride; Eddie feels it too. Approximately two months of practice led to this. Just two months! He knows that she's been diligent, but still – it's impressive. Damn, he has the raddest little neighbor.

He rests his elbows on the couch's backrest and pokes Max's shoulder.

"It sounds great. You'll do amazing tomorrow."

She nods, lips tugging into a sweetly pleased smile.

"I'm ready," she says. Craning her neck, she locks their gazes. "Are you performing too?"

"No. The stage will be only yours. Although," he pats the acoustic in her lap, "I will of course be there and make sure you treat DragonSlayer with the respect she deserves."

Max's eyes crinkle with mischief.

"She won't react to you ever again after I show her what real talented fingers can do," she says, wiggling said fingers at him, and giggles when he gasps like a Victorian lady at the implied vulgarity. Turning to Gareth, she asks, "Are you gonna be there?"

Gareth's expression crumbles.

"I can't. Something is going around at work and we're short-staffed, so I'm no longer free," he says miserably. "I'll come next time. You'll do it again, right?"

She smiles wryly. "Unless I crash and burn."

Eddie pushes off the backrest and rounds the couch. He hates to spoil the mood any more, but…

"Before I forget," he says, piercing them with an unamused look. He also tries standing with his hands on his hips, but there's no way he can convey the same bitchy determination Steve can with the stance, so it feels hollow. He crosses his arms instead. "You two need to stop conspiring against me."

They blink at him, baffled.

"What?" Gareth says.

"You've been trying to set me up with Steve!"

"Well, yeah," Max says. "But not with him."

"Yeah, not with her."

It's Eddie's turn to blink. Releasing a breath that shudders with emotion, he closes his eyes and rubs circles on his temples.

"You're telling me you've worked independently of each other this entire time?"

"Seems like it!" Gareth laughs, though the mirth dims quickly. "But… who's done the best job?"

They whip toward each other. Their postures are tense, bow strings drawn and ready to shoot. Flames of competitiveness engulf them. Weirdos.

Gareth points at Max. "I made them go on a date!"

"I made them go on two dates!"

"I'm the reason they got to know each other!"

Max scoffs. "Oh, please. As if I wouldn't have eventually introduced them."

"Would you?"

"Sure. They're both older brother figures I can't get rid of who're hopelessly single and into men." She shrugs. "Why not?"

Eddie gasps again, this time more like a grandmother who's been presented with an incomprehensibly scribbled drawing from her toddler grandchild.

"I'm an older brother figure to you?" he asks, bending down to Max's level, his tone patronizingly light.

She sends him a withering look and reaches for her cane.

"Well, they almost kissed on my date!" Gareth shouts.

Max’s jaw drops. She loses her grip on the cane but gains a terrifying intensity in her eyes. A chill runs through Eddie, the tips of his appendages tingling. This is the closest he's ever gotten to catching frostbite.

"What," she says flatly.

Eddie scrambles away, metaphorically and physically, in case she decides to smack him anyway.

"N-no, we- It wasn't- Our faces just- But we didn't!"

"But it was so close," Gareth says, fingers pinched and with maybe the fraction of a fraction of an inch of air between his thumb and forefinger.

"Huh." Max continues staring Eddie down like she's plotting his murder for keeping secrets. He's about to point out that he can't be set up with Steve if he's dead when she swivels back to Gareth. "I'm making them go on a third date."

"Wait, what? When?"

"Open mic tomorrow night," she says, like he's an idiot. The scrunch of Gareth's mouth indicates that he agrees with her.

"Shit." He pats himself down, in search of something. "What time is it? Where's my phone? If I text him now I can schedule a spontaneous hang-out for tonight!"

Eddie's eyes double in size.

"Woah, woah, woah!" he exclaims, hands raised and palms facing out, as if he's warding off wild animals. "You have Steve's number?"

Gareth pauses his search to tilt his head at Eddie, like he's a puzzle he can't figure out how to solve. Or maybe just like he's a huge fucking moron. "You're telling me you don't?"

Eddie clamps his lips together; fights the urge to fidget beneath their judgmental stares. Max slowly shakes her head.

"Dumbass. You need us."

Eddie makes an ugly face at her. "Shut up."

She tuts. "So aggressive. That's a symptom of sexual frustration."

"I'm not-"

"Remember: thin walls."

"They're not that thin! I never hear you!"

"Because I know how to keep my business to myself. And you've heard me practicing the guitar, haven't you?"

He has. Shit. He buries his face in his hands.

"Shit."

"That's right," Max says snippily. "I hear everything. Every. Thing."

"Oh," Gareth says. He squeezes her good knee, oozing empathy from every pore. "Oh, you poor, innocent girl."

She soaks it up, lamenting, "It's been awful."

"Yeah… But, um. You realize that if they get together, then… "

Gareth trails off as Max nods miserably.

"Yeah, I know. I'm resigned to my fate."

Eddie pushes the heels of his hands into his eye sockets until he sees stars. He needs friends who are less invested in his sex life.

Max leaves soon after, cane clacking louder than necessary against the floor. (Eddie suspects he might not get it back once she's healed.) She stops in the doorway on her way out. While smiling in a manner that makes him break out in a cold sweat, she tells him not to take his car to the open mic and to dress nicely.

And then she's gone.

Gareth harrumphs.

"She's planning something for tomorrow. Damnit. This is unfair, you know. She's known him longer; she can talk to and influence both of you in ways I can't. I'm at a disadvantage here."

Eddie, without replying, twirls on the spot and faceplants on the couch.

Gareth groans above him. "Oh, what is it now?"

'Same as always' is what he'd like to say. Instead, he saves his breath by rolling onto his side, curling up his legs, and giving Gareth a look. It must convey how he feels, because Gareth's irritation melts off, replaced with something gentle. He squats by the couch and brushes a stray lock from Eddie's forehead. A bit like how Uncle Wayne would when he still lived at home.

"Eddie, man, you don't have to be nervous. He likes you."

"That makes it worse," Eddie says, voice raspy and thick, and fuck, he's not going to cry over this, is he? Bawl when a boy doesn't like him is normal, not when they do. "He likes me now, but if he finds out I'm his obsessive quasi-stalker? Then what?"

"I think you're blowing this out of proportion," Gareth says. He starts scratching at Eddie's scalp; it's good enough to dry his tears and slow his pulse. "Max knows about the calendar and she doesn't mind!"

Eddie snorts derisively. "Because she's nineteen and doesn't yet understand how some actions can have terrible consequences."

Gareth frowns at that with obvious disapproval. "She's still an adult. For that matter, so are you and Steve? Just talk to him about it." He sighs. "Look, I don't think he'll mind so much that he'll never get over it. And if he does… it sucks. But you'll live. There are dozens of hot guys out there, waiting to be swept off their hot… feet." He pauses to snicker.

"You're so bad at this," Eddie whispers; Gareth snickers even more.

"You know why I've stuck by you all these years?" he asks once done laughing. "Why I even started hanging with you in the first place?"

"You had stoner aspirations and I zero qualms selling weed to fourteen-year-olds?"

Gareth flicks his forehead. "Because you're cool. And likable. And you make people happy when you're around. So go out there tomorrow night and sweep those hot feet!"

Eddie snorts. Then again. His diaphragm tightens, air forces past his pursed lips, and then his body shakes with laughter. Gareth is grinning proudly, of himself and possibly Eddie as well. He snakes his arms around Eddie's waist and pulls him so close the mirth rattles through them both. It takes an eon, but at last, the laughter abates. Eddie’s lungs are sore and his eyes are wet with happiness, and he's still got an armful of best friend clinging to him.

"I'll call you the day after tomorrow." Gareth punctuates the promise with a squeeze, before pulling back. "Lunchtime. And I'll expect progress. Okay?"

Eddie nods. "Okay."

Gareth beams, ruffles Eddie's hair, and then he too leaves the apartment.

Eddie turns onto his back and stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t sigh as much as make noise while gravity pushes the air from his lungs. He could fall asleep here, on this uncomfortable couch. Turns out guitar lessons, worrying, and funny friends deplete your energy.

Before his eyelids slide shut for good he drags himself up to brush his teeth and go lie in his real bed. He needs a proper night's sleep if he'll survive tomorrow.

He wakes up on Saturday having dreamt of Steve. He eats his breakfast while thinking of Steve. He replaces brake pads, rotates tires, and talks to clients while thinking of Steve. He returns home and showers off the sweat and oil while really thinking of Steve.

He also spends a lot longer than usual contemplating how thoroughly he ought to wash himself. Fate dictates that if he cleans as if he might get laid, he won't be. However, if he's perfunctory about it, he's more likely to score. Ultimately, he does an extensive scrub. Rather be presumptuous and get nothing than be unhygienic and get lucky.

Then comes the worst part: picking an outfit.

Max told him to wear something 'nice'. Jesus. 'Wear something nice', what did that even mean? Dress less like himself? Dress more like himself? Something skimpy? Or snug? He has those leather pants that make his legs look divine, but they might be too much. He doesn't want to look like he's trying as hard as he is. Also, he's going to an open mic in a coffee shop at seven in the evening. There will be high schoolers, retirees, families with children, and others present who do not need to see his dick imprint. 'No' to the leather pants.

But maybe…

The hangers clatter and screech as he pushes them aside. Sticking his arm far into his wardrobe, he then pulls it out grasping his other battle vest.

The one in leather.

He hasn't worn it out yet. It's only recently finished, and almost ended up looking too nice, too pristine. It's not really him, not the way his frayed and trusty denim vest is. But it's still a thing of beauty: band logos immaculately painted onto the leather and spikes adorning the shoulders, collar, and lapels.

It's fucking badass. Him, though a little nicer.

He pairs the vest with his tightest Metallica tee – the one with the sleeves shorn off and the neckline cut into a v deep enough to show both tattoos – and distressed, black jeans, rips over the knees and a big hole along the inside of one thigh. The retirees will just have to fucking deal with some exposed skin.

A crowd is thronging inside Connie's when he arrives ten minutes to seven. They've built a makeshift stage on one short side, crammed between the cream'n'sugar station and a huge monstera. Microphones, stools, and a keyboard stand upon it. All the café's tables are pushed to one half of the floor, letting people mill between them and the stage. None of them seem to be his people, though.

Eddie weaves through the crowd, scanning it for short redheads and tall hunks. Nothing… nothing… not-

"Eddie!"

He turns, coming nose to nose, like tip to tip, with Steve, who's… wow. Call him the moon and Eddie a wolf, because he's about to start howling.

He's wearing pants, not jeans, that hug his hips without being obscenely tight and a fitted, teal dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up and the top two buttons left undone, allowing yet another tantalizing peek of the sculpted pecs beneath. Nice but not too formal, if you ask anyone. Positively edible, if you ask Eddie. His mouth is actually watering a little, which is a sign he's been staring for too long.

Lifting his gaze from Steve's chest to his face, he realizes he could've taken his time because Steve is also staring. At Eddie.

Steve's breaths are slow but deep as he bites his lip hard enough to dent it, tongue flicking out to soothe the mark. Eyes glowing like embers, he trails them over Eddie's body, threatening to set him ablaze.

Eddie's jeans are too fucking tight for this.

"Starting to worry you wouldn't make it," Steve says, low and gravelly.

"No, I just, uh, running a bit late…" Eddie says, faltering as Steve drags a finger along the lapel of his vest.

"Haven't seen you in this before," he murmurs.

"It's new. First time wearing it."

"Where'd you get it?"

"I made it."

Steve's brows jump. "You made it?"

"Make like one-third of my clothes and heavily alter the rest. Metal's all about DIY, baby."

Chuckling, Steve grabs both ends of the attached leather belt and opens the vest for a better look at the Metallica shirt underneath. He doesn't ask any questions about the band, thank God, because Eddie's brain is too liquid to answer. If Steve opened the vest a bit more he'd be undressing him. Or if he tugged at the belt Eddie would stumble into him, he's so off balance.

But Steve does neither; he closes it and lets go.

"I left the others at the table. C'mon."

The rest of them also look nice, Robin in suspenders again, this time paired with shorts, and Lucas in a black sweater-red jacket combo that reminds Eddie of all the cool boys he pined over in high school. Both of them gush compliments at the sight of his vest; their childlike enthusiasm is a pretty effective boner killer, phew. The only one not mentioning his outfit is Max – she's silently staring at the tablecloth, hands in her lap and head bowed.

"Hey, Red," he says.

She looks at him, eyes like clear ponds and her freckles stark against her white skin. It might be his personal bias, but she's the prettiest of them all tonight. Canary yellow t-shirt dress and oversized jean jacket, one shoulder artfully slipping down. Loose, wavy locks cascading past her shoulders. Barely chipped nail polish and glossy lips, but no other makeup. She's radiant.

And she's shaking.

He slides into the chair next to her.

"You're still ready?"

Max nods.

"You know, I still feel like puking every time I perform."

"Yeah?" she breathes.

"Yup." His fingers encircle her wrist, squeezing. "You're gonna crush it."

She smiles tightly.

"Do you want us to film it?" Robin asks. "To show your mom?"

Max's first reaction is a frown, which evaporates at the mention of her mom; then she nods so hard she's indistinguishable from a bobblehead.

"Yes!" she says, and that's the last bit of conversation between them, for the next second the lights dim and Connie ascends the stage to announce the start of the open mic.

It's three hours long, with fifteen performers given ten minutes each, plus a few for getting on and off the stage. Max is number eight, which means she'll have about an hour and a half to sweat before it's her turn. And maybe she does manage to sweat it out and dry off, because when her time comes she strides up with the poise of a seasoned veteran.

A café worker helps her up and adjusts the mic for her. She hooks the cane on the stool and situates the guitar across her lap – one of the younger audience members shouts "Dragon!" to everyone's amusement. Once the laughter stops, she puts her mouth to the mic and emits one stuttering breath.

"Hi," she says. "My name is Max, and I'll be playing two covers and one song I wrote." She giggles as some onlookers whoop their approval. "All three are dedicated to one person here tonight. He knows who he is."

Then she plays. It's the best fucking thing Eddie has heard, not just tonight, but ever.

Her voice is strong, her rhythm is perfect. When she pauses for breath her expression defaults into a blinding smile. She breezes through The Isley Brothers and Stevie Wonder as the crowd claps along. Eddie manages to tear his eyes from her only once, to view the others' reactions. Robin tries to hold her phone steady as she sways in her seat, Steve is misty-eyed like a proud dad, and Lucas…

Lucas sits slumped forward, chin pillowed on his hands, pupils huge and dark. Lovestruck.

After You Are the Sunshine of My Life she takes a breather, sipping from her bottle of water. There's a shift in the air; the audience settles, mood sobering. When she resumes playing, the notes are softer, slower. A melancholy made bearable by her warm tones.

Max's song is about a happy then and an uncertain now. It's a song about guilt and regret. About apologizing and vowing to improve. About past loss and about future hope.

Above all, it's a promise.

It strikes like a blade through Eddie's chest. He shouldn't be hearing this. None but three, or maybe just one, of the people in here should. It's not for their ears, because they can't ever truly understand. It's too personal. Yet, she plays it for them. Tearing open her flesh and breaking her bones to show them. Listening to this is a privilege.

Her last note is a tattoo – covering up those before her, impossible to erase by those following her.

Max smiles and bows, again like a pro. As the café erupts into deafening applause, Lucas shoots from his seat. Appearing by the stage, he extends his arms to her. She hooks hers around his neck and lets him lift her down. Smiling at each other, they rest their foreheads together like they're the only ones in the room. Shit, perhaps they are.

They walk back to the table with Max's cane underneath Lucas' arm, she using him as her crutch. Arriving, the first thing she does is ask Eddie:

"How was it?"

He schools his expression.

"Red. I'm ditching my band. From now on, you and me – duo."

She boxes him in the shoulder, the shine of her smile rivaling a star.

The rest of the open mic is nice, even though the highlight is over. Still, live music is live music (and leaving in the middle would've been unacceptably rude), so they stay until Connie closes the night by thanking everyone present and encouraging them to come back next time.

Outside, they stretch their unused limbs until their joints pop, then walk a few blocks to Steve's car. It makes sense for Eddie not to have taken his van, he tells himself. The BMW is big enough for all five to sit comfortably, and he'll save on gas. Still, there's a disappointment pooling in his gut, because this means Steve will drop off Lucas, Max, and Eddie at their places before driving himself and Robin home. It's not a bad thing! He has yet to figure out how to breach the subject of the calendar. But… getting some more time to talk to Steve without amateur musicians drowning out the words would've been nice.

(This is what he gets for being so thorough in the shower.)

"Well," Robin says, hands clasped behind her head, as the BMW beeps unlocked. "I'll see you guys later."

"Where are you going?" Eddie asks.

"Steve and I live just past that building," she says, pointing. "So, I'll walk while he drives you guys."

Oh.

The disappointed pool freezes. Eddie swallows thickly. This is fine. It means nothing. Steve will drop everyone off and then go home, as planned.

He gets shotgun. Really, it's given to him because Max and Lucas commandeer the backseat, snuggling up on one-and-a-half seats while DragonSlayer claims the third. Eddie doesn't mind in the slightest – not when the kids are so close they're basically on top of each other, slotting together like a pair of puzzle pieces. Watching them separate when they arrive at the apartment complex will be devastating.

Except.

They do not go to the apartment complex. They go to a neighborhood Eddie's never been to before, parking outside a two-story house. So, they're dropping off Lucas first, then Eddie and Max, and then Steve will go home. Just as planned.

"I'm staying with Lucas tonight," Max says. "The DragonSlayer is all yours, Eddie."

She slams the door shut, the two of them walking up the shingled pathway hand in hand.

Steve hums pleasantly. "I think that did the trick – they're an item again. About time, don't you think?"

"Uh, yeah, yep, sure took them long enough, yeppers," Eddie's mouth says with negative input or permission from his brain.

Steve grins before pulling out, shirt straining against his arm as he turns the wheel and holy shit, Eddie is alone in a car with Steve!

Is everyone conspiring against him?!

Steve makes small talk during the drive, recounting which songs he recognized, sharing his favorite performances, asking for Eddie's more knowledgeable opinion. Eddie responds to the best of his abilities, which is to say 'poorly'.

When they stop by a red light and Steve absent-mindedly undoes the third button on his shirt, Eddie’s mouth dries up and he stops responding altogether, fearing his tongue will crumble to dust if he tries. If Steve is put out by Eddie's conversational skills reducing to various affirmative noises, he doesn't show it.

Finally reaching the complex, Eddie resolves to at least croak a 'thank you for the ride'. But when he turns to do just that, Steve is already looking earnestly at him with his large, honeyed eyes.

"It's really nice of you, teaching Max to play. Thank you."

"Oh, 'twas nothing." Eddie clears his throat. "She's a good student."

"I'm curious: is there a difference between acoustic and electric?"

"Not really. Electric is a little easier, 'cause they're smaller and the strings are lighter."

"Acoustic sounds better, though," Steve says and laughs at Eddie's answering grimace. "All right, maybe not to the metal master," (Eddie stifles a gigglesnort; what an adorable dork), "but to a common listener, such as myself, acoustic is nicer. You can try to change my mind if you want, though."

"By… playing both for you?"

"Yeah."

Eddie gulps audibly. "N-now?"

Steve's smile is almost too wide for his face. He cocks his head, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, who are gleaming like gold in the light of the nearby street lamp.

"I'm not busy."

Eddie leads them up the stairs to his fourth-floor apartment. Their steps echo in time with the drumming of Eddie's heart. His grip on the DragonSlayer is unyieldingly stiff, lest it slides from his clammy palm.

This is fine. Steve is going to listen to him play and then go home, just as planned.

Like the building, the locks are old; his key jams and needs to be rattled before the door opens. He lets Steve in first, then closes the door behind them. Steve waits patiently, back to the wall and chest inches from Eddie's. Has the hallway always been this cramped?

Eddie turns to fumble around for the light switch, breath hitching when Steve touches his shoulders. Grasping the vest's spiked lapels, he pulls it off Eddie's frame and hangs it on the coat rack. Next, he grabs the guitar – warm, dry skin brushing Eddie's – and props it by the doorpost. Last, he looks at Eddie, his eyes searching, searching, searching…

Disregarding his sensibilities, Eddie nods.

Steve kisses him.

The force of it sends them stumbling, Eddie's back slamming into the wall. Their mouths smush together and their noses bump; for a moment it's too hard, too much. But then Steve angles his head, their lips melding, and it's perfect. Like silk sheets and rose petals, like champagne and chocolate truffles, like summer nights and meteor showers.

Steve mumbles something about waiting, about wishing, about finally. He's touching Eddie everywhere, chest pinning him against the wall, hands running up and down his arms, thigh pushing between his legs. His hard cock pokes against Eddie's groin, and it feels so thick.

All of Eddie's nerve endings are lighting up, sending tingles to converge in his belly before shooting back out to his limbs. He has no regrets. Everything he's done or that's been done to him was worth it, because it led to the best fucking kiss of his life. Steve will have to keep him after this – exposing him to this kind of touch only once would be cruel.

It's gentle, is the thing, but with the passion of a thousand lovers. Steve cups his face, tipping it, thumb caressing his cheek and fingers rubbing circles in his hair. His lips, soft but determined, parts Eddie's for a quick taste that leaves him wanting.

Eddie tries chasing, but Steve withholds – fucking teases – and goes back to nipping and licking. Rolling his hips until Eddie gasps, then slipping in his tongue to stroke the roof of Eddie's mouth. Then he starts over again, repeating the cycle until Eddie is whining, his knees so weak he slumps onto Steve's thigh.

Grabbing hold of his ass, Steve hoists him up. Eddie squawks, legs automatically wrapping around Steve's waist. Steve grins, juuuust on the wrong side of smug, and steps away from the wall, carrying Eddie like it's nothing. It would be infuriating if Eddie wasn't too busy wondering if, and if so for how long, Steve could fuck him like this.

"Bedroom?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, it's, uh, through there," Eddie says, pointing in what might be the right direction.

Then he yanks Steve's head back by his pretty hair and swallows his moan. Because with Steve's hands occupied, it means Eddie can do whatever he wants. And what he wants is shove his tongue as far down Steve's throat as he can.

It takes them a while, but they reach the bedroom. Steve deposits them on the bed, bringing them from vertical to horizontal in a smooth slide without breaking the kiss.

Eddie wraps tighter around him, wanting to feel him everywhere and always. Alas, Steve disentangles them with a chuckle. He sits up so he's kneeling, legs spread, Eddie's thighs resting on top of his. A hungry glint in his eyes, he undoes one more of his buttons, then forgoes the rest by pulling the shirt off like a sweater and flinging it aside.

Eddie wastes no time touching him, groping the firm pecs and caressing the soft belly. The coarse hair tickles his palms.

"Fuck me, you're perfect," he murmurs.

Steve giggles, pink blooming on his face. Coaxing Eddie's hands off him, he arranges his limbs on the bed, and Eddie lets him – he can do anything as long as he does it shirtless. He smooths his hand over the Metallica logo, pretty much petting his chest, before rucking the shirt up to Eddie's chin. Steve's eyes are black, more pupil than iris; he thumbs at the tattoo on Eddie's ribs.

"I was hoping you'd have more," he says. His other hand slides across Eddie's leg, fingers ghosting the edge of the large hole before one slips inside, tucking between the denim and the skin of Eddie's thigh. Eddie gasps; Steve smiles. "How much do I need to take off to see all of them?"

"Why don't you find out, big boy?" Eddie says, breathless but grinning, scooting closer to rub his ass on Steve's dick.

Steve rips off Eddie's shirt, tosses it where he tossed his own, and crashes their lips together as he unbuckles Eddie's belt.

Eddie hums into the kiss. It's perfect. Steve is perfect. The whole thing is as if out of a dream. Jesus Christ, it is straight out of one of his fantasies. The only thing missing is… is…

The uniform.

Fuck. He can't do this. Not like this. Fuck.

Eddie breaks the kiss, gently pushing Steve away.

"Eddie?"

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. Looking at Steve right now is impossible – the shame will consume him. He shouldn't have let it go this far.

"Eddie? What's wrong?" Steve asks. "Please, I-"

"There's something you gotta know." Eddie forces his eyes open. The least Steve deserves is to be looked at while given the truth. Also, this is the first and possibly last time Eddie will see Steve on top of him. He should savor it. "I haven't been completely honest."

Steve's eyes dim. "You're married."

Eddie goggles. "What? No! Shit, I've never had a relationship go past the three-month mark. No, it's… Um…"

He sighs. Here comes the music; time to face it.

"You know that calendar you did? Gareth told you his mom had it?"

"Yes?"

"He lied. It's mine. I have the calendar." He inhales deeply, then lets it all out in one fast gust. "I recognized you the first time we met and I thought you were so hot and Gareth thought we should try finding you at the university and we did and then we hung out and now, uh, now we're here."

Steve blinks owlishly. "Oh."

"Yeah. I've jerked off to your picture for two and a half years and I thought you should know." Eddie rubs his eyes; they're burning, and his nose is clogging. Shit, not now… "So, um. If you want to stop, if you never want to see me again, I understand. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"It- Huh?"

Eddie's jaw slackens. He gawks up at Steve, who calmly meets his gaze. But it can't be this easy. It's never this easy, not for Eddie.

"S'fine." Steve shrugs. "Was that all?"

"Uh. Yeah."

"Good."

He dives back to resume the kiss, except this time it's hotter, dirtier, Steve licking behind his teeth and sucking on his tongue so Eddie's toes curl. He yanks Eddie's jeans and boxers down to his thighs, Eddie's cock springing out. Steve grips it, but doesn't stroke or squeeze – just holds. Eddie starts rocking into his fist and oh, oh, it's so good but not enough. He's so hard his head is spinning and he needs Steve's hands and his cock and he needs he needs he needs-

"Eddie," Steve says into Eddie's mouth. "What d'you want me to do? Tell me."

"Mmm, I want… Fuck, I needed you inside me two years ago."

Steve licks a wet stripe along his throat. "Whatever you want."

Then he sits up and flips Eddie over. Eddie grunts at the sudden movement, but his cock between his stomach and the mattress feels heavenly, and Steve parting his ass cheeks is even better, so he's not complaining.

He's especially not complaining when Steve leans down, rubbing his nose against Eddie's tailbone.

"You're okay with any part of me inside you?" he asks, breath warm on Eddie's skin.

Eddie groans. "Yes. Anything! Just touch me!"

Steve does, dragging the flat of his tongue from Eddie's taint up to his hole.

Eddie keens, burying it in the pillow due to those damn thin walls. It probably doesn't help, because he's being loud. He usually is, but not like this. Turns out Steve's tongue is amazing no matter where he puts it. He swirls it around the hole, laps heavily against the rim, slowly loosening Eddie up.

He writhes and moans, cock leaking precum on the sheets. Jerking forward, he humps the mattress for two sweet, relieving seconds before Steve grabs him by the hips and holds him in place. He would've griped about it if Steve hadn't immediately plunged his tongue into Eddie's hole. But Steve does, so Eddie screams instead.

Fuck the walls, he's having the time of his life.

He has been rimmed before, two or three times, but not this intensely. He hasn't been fucked by another man's tongue. Because that's what Steve's doing, lips on Eddie's ass and saliva dripping down his taint. He's as far in as it can go, tongue thrusting and stroking and… oh. Oh! Oh, fuck-

Eddie jolts, despite being held down, because Steve just flicked his tongue tip against someplace sensitive. He whines, begging Steve to do it again. Steve laughs, the sound reverberating through Eddie's ass, and does as told. And again. And again.

He flicks. Eddie screams.

He flicks. Screams.

Flicks. Screams.

And Eddie's on fire. His legs are shaking, his insides are thrumming, the pleasure courses and courses in electric waves and shit, did he just come?

"Holy shit, I think I just came," he says, fingers cramping where they've clutched the covers.

Steve pulls out with a slurp.

"Oh, cool," he pants. He crawls up the bed, his hard cock dragging a wet trail on Eddie's leg. "D'you wanna take a break or keep going?"

Eddie groans. What kind of a fucking question is that? His cock is still hard, and Steve's cock is hard, and Eddie is reeling from the best orgasm he's ever had, and does he want to keep going?

"Steve…" he says. "If you don't fuck me now, then I'll… I'll… " He trails off, slurring.

"Yes," Steve says, catching on anyway. "Okay. Yes."

He sounds wrecked. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie is met by perfect hair in disarray, cheeks flushed and blotchy, a chin glistening with drool, and Steve's wild, ember eyes. Assured he's not the only one losing his mind, Eddie thumps his head back on the pillow. Bending his knees, he pushes his ass into the air and reaches back to spread his cheeks with his own fingers.

"Then hurry up, big boy," he croons, index finger circling the spitslick rim. "Before I do it myself."

Steve laughs, high-pitched like he's drunk. He fumbles for Eddie's lube and a condom he brought, thank fuck, because Eddie only has expired ones.

Lying on top of Eddie, Steve aligns their arms and interlocks their fingers, and pushes in. Eddie whimpers, because as loose and cock-starved as he is, Steve is huge, the tip alone wrecking his already sore ass. Steve shushes him gently, brushing away sweat-damp curls to plant a soft kiss at his nape. He rocks slowly, squeezing Eddie's hand and rubbing his hip, until the stretch gets better and the pain eases.

And then they fuck. Or maybe 'make love' is a more fitting term, because they hold hands during most of it. And sometimes, Steve will ease off, going so slow and sweet it borders on edging, drawing high-pitched noises from far down Eddie's chest. Then, once satisfied, he speeds up again, fucking harder while whispering compliments into Eddie's skin.

He makes Eddie come two more times, by fucking him and by jerking him off. At least, Eddie thinks that's what happened when he wakes up some hours later. He got a little delirious with pleasure at the end, though, so he's not a hundred percent sure.

He yawns and stretches. It's dark out, but the blinds are open and light pours in from the street lamp that for some reason had to be positioned right by his window.

"That light is the worst," Steve mumbles, burrowing into the pillow.

"Hmm, yeah. But I don't have to have my own lamp on. I save on electricity."

"Economical." Steve laughs, peeking up from the bedding. He's beautifully rumpled, bathed in shadows and light. "How d'you feel?"

"Awesome… did you clean me up?"

"Kinda had to – you passed out. I'm not letting you sleep with come crusting all over you," Steve says, nose scrunching.

"Not my fault. Blame your cock!"

They laugh again, together. It's nice. But it would've been nicer if there wasn't still one tiny thing nagging in the back of Eddie's head.

"Hey," he mumbles. "When you said… that the stuff with the calendar was fine, did you mean it? Or was your judgment clouded by horniness?"

Steve snorts. "'Course I meant it. I don't mind."

"Jesus."

"Do you want me to mind?"

"No. It's just that I've been putting off telling you about it because I was afraid you'd be upset. It's pretty creepy."

"Yeah, but…" Steve props his head onto his fist and shrugs one shoulder. "I guess it would be creepier if it were someone else. But it's you, and I like you, so… it's just flattering."

A grin stretches across Eddie's face. "You like me?"

"Uh, yeah." Steve rolls his eyes, but his face is also splitting in half. "Don't you like me?"

"I do."

Eddie winds his arms around Steve's waist, pulling him in for a kiss.

"I thought so," Steve says after their lips part. "I just didn't know how much – if you wanted to just fuck or if you wanted something more. Max was hinting you wanted more. And your friends seemed too invested for you not to want more. Then Robin told me 'he definitely wants more'. So I knew it was safe to go."

"Christ, dude, I like you so much I've given myself ulcers worrying you didn't like me back!"

"Sorry," Steve says unapologetically. "You can stop worrying."

They embrace, trading chaste kisses as they snuggle. Alternating between whispering nonsense and drawing patterns on each other and simply looking, unabashed and unhurried.

Then, Steve pulls away with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He asks, "So where do you keep that calendar?"

Eddie's heart and stomach leap, trading places and knocking every other organ off course. He lunges at Steve, coiling around him like an octopus and trapping him to the bed.

"Nooooo!"

Steve guffaws. "I'm not gonna look for it! You'll have to tell me where it is."

He cocks his head at Eddie, sweet, innocent, evil. Eddie groans with the vigor of an annoyed pre-teen. Releasing Steve, he points at his desk.

"Top drawer."

Steve flies up, rummaging through the drawer before Eddie can blink. Whooping in triumph, he holds the calendar in front of himself and begins flipping through it. Eddie pulls the comforter up to his nose to hide his blush.

"April is missing?" Steve asks.

"The model was a cop."

"Ah."

Steve reclaims his spot on the bed. He's reached November and is scanning the photo with an approving smile.

Eddie grunts. "Are you admiring your own photo?"

"So? It's a good picture." Steve smirks at him. "I know you agree."

Grumbling, Eddie hides completely beneath the cover. This is what he gets for being honest. He's never telling the truth again.

"What do you say about me fucking you while wearing the uniform?" Steve asks.

Eddie throws off the comforter and catapults into sitting.

"We can do that?"

"Sure," Steve says easily, like he didn't just turn Eddie's world upside down. "Unless…" He leans in, lips hovering over Eddie's. "Unless you want to fuck me while I wear it?"

They don't fall back asleep until hours later.

(In fact, they sleep in until 11 am, when Eddie's alarm goes off. Gareth calls by lunchtime as promised, but Eddie misses it. He's too busy getting fucked against the shower wall.)

"You're not allowed to break up," Max says later that day, during their guitar lesson. The open mic might've passed, but she needs to learn more if they'll perform together. "It'll be awkward if you're exes. I won't be able to hang out with Steve if you're next door – I'll have to move."

Eddie smiles. He should point out they're not really together yet; that they've only barely started dating. Instead, he says:

"We won't."

And he can't explain how, but it's as if some higher power whispered all the answers to him while he slept in Steve's arms and he knows, he just knows, that he's telling the truth.

------------------------------

Thank you for reading. You're the best.

Oh, and I realize that I introduced things that excited a ton of people (such as Eddie meeting everyone else), so I might have to write a mini-sequel where that actually happens. Not now, though. Later.

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lenore1232, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll, @theysherobinbuckley, @freddykicksasses, @winterbuckwild, @sideblogofthcentury, @subparbrainfunction, @pemsha

[hungharrington]

*clears throat* okay!!!!

but imagine the next time you two are apart (probably a day or two but it’s enough), imagine you decide to be the one that jumps him and kisses him all over and make sure you’re the first to say how much you missed him? you use his “how dare you get prettier” discourse on him and kiss him first and call him sweet names before you drag him home. poor boy would be flustered and with his cheeks on fire / pink and breathless and i bet he wouldn’t be able to form words 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

oh just y e s - 1.4k, gn!reader i believe, this fic describes a blowjob and as always, MDNI this entire blog is 18+

He's not expecting it. It makes it that much better.

When you sneak down the aisles of the Family Video and spot a certain ass, in a pair of tight jeans that should be illegal, bent over to reach the bottom shelf, your heart sings. You let Steve straighten up, watching him closely as he dusts off his hands and then places them on his hips, leaning into one. Classic Steve pose. You can't wait any longer.

You strike.

Striding down the aisle as quickly as you can, you reach out and grab his shoulders, using the momentum to propel yourself up and cling onto his back - like a piggyback he's given you a thousand times before. Steve startles, but even then, he catches you. Hands come up under your thighs and his face is holds a smidge of that bitchiness you love.

It wipes away in an instant when he realises who it is.

"Baby!" He exclaims, his grip on your skin tightening. Excitement lights up his features- softening when you grapple closer, kiss him on the cheek, and say, "surprise!" with your best grin.

"I thought you weren't—“

"—Coming back til the weekend?" You interrupt. You smother kisses along his jawline, anywhere you can. You're beginning to feel a bit breathless by the time you pull back to speak again and Steve's eyes look oddly misty in their fondness. "Missed you too much. Came back early."

Steve lets go of your thighs and without his support, you sink down his back sluggishly, hands still tangled around his neck. He's turning quickly, his hands seeking out to tug you closer. They slide up along your jaw, cupping it sweetly. "Can't kiss you when you're back there, c'mere,"

It's maddening, the way he kisses you. Plush lips capture yours, soft and sweet, his fingers creeping along your jawline. His fingertips slide into your hair, tightening to pull you even closer.

When he pulls back, his pink cheeks give away his delight. You beat him to the punch on his own spiel. A frown knits together your brows as you reach up to hold his face, palms to his blushing cheeks.

"Hold on," You say. Steve's face flickers with concern. You turn his face in your hand, side to side, just an inch. "I thought we agreed you weren't going to get any prettier?"

Steve's cheeks darken from pink to crimson and try as he might, he can't hide his giddy smile with you holding his face between your hands.

"Stop," he chuckles, rolling his eyes lightheartedly. You shake your head and try to deepen your frown; your smile peeks through.

"I'm serious, Steven—"

"—Not my real name—"

"—I thought you were gonna tone it down, pretty boy. " You pout, reaching up to dot a peck on his nose. Steve looks at you unbearably soft, his grip growing slack as you continue with a grave nod. "You're doing a number on my heart."

"You're being dramatic." Steve says and it makes you grin wider.

"You love it."

It only takes one disgusted bleh! from Robin, who witnessed most of your strangely heartwarming reunion, to send Steve home early. Steve doesn't push his luck, just sheds his vest and blows a kiss to her as he leads the way out the door. You call your thanks over your shoulder, hands on Steve's shoulders, ushering him with a quick little go-go-go!

He doesn't ask why you're in any kind of hurry. There's no need to ask. When your back into your apartment, the door snicking shut behind you, you're upon him. Hands pressed against his chest like a panther sinking its claw into its prey.

Your lips find his skin, hot and heavy kisses along his neck and you can feel the way he pulls you close, pressing you up against him. You can already feel the shape of his hardness against your thigh. Desire flares hot in your tummy.

Steve huffs a breathy laugh, "Always against the door, huh?"

"Can't help it," you whine between your kisses. You give his neck a little nip, then soothe it sweetly with your tongue, basking in the sigh Steve gives. "Missed you."

"I-" He inhales sharply when your teeth scrape in just the right way. "Fuck, I missed you too, honey."

Your hand creeps on his chest, traveling down, down, til you can feel the waistband on his jeans — and then you keep going, fingers wrapping around the shape of him. Steve gives a soft groan, his hips pushing forward in your hand.

"Can I show you?" You say, putting on that sweet voice that just kills Steve every time. Peering up at him through your lashes, you watch his breath catch and his cheeks stay that glorious ruby red colour. "Will you let me show you how much I missed you, Stevie?"

You pair your words with a soft rub of his cock and Steve moans softly, eyes screwing shut. You're already sinking to your knees by the time he's remembering you've asked him a question. "Yes, yes, please, yes, you can."

The zipper scrapes audibly as you pull it down, shuffling clothes enough just to free his cock. Your mouth salivates just a little at seeing it again, even if you had only been gone for a total of three days. It's already leaking for you.

"Oh," you say softly, your hand wrapping around the girth of him. You move slowly, gently, thumb coming up to rub over his slit and spread his precum. A string of curses and moans escape Steve's throat. His hands clench tightly at his side. "So hard for me already?"

You're teasing him, just a bit. It works exactly as you planned — Steve shivers, his cock giving a little twitch in your hand. His voice sounds strained already when he speaks, "Didn't —ah— didn't touch myself when you- you were gone."

Surprise blooms in your chest and sets a fire in your belly, thinking of him waiting for you when you were away. Determination licks at its heels. You give his cock a more purposeful squeeze, adoring how he whines in response and lean up and give the tip a kiss, then a soft lick.

He moans again, raspy and long as you wrap your lips around it, your mouth hot and wet and perfect. You drool on his cock, letting yourself get it soaked as you suck on it gently — not taking him as far as you can. Teasing. Steve’s breathing is beginning to sound jagged, little whiny noises seeping into every breath.

You pull off with a slurp and use the slickness of your saliva to jerk him, your hand twisting perfectly on his cock to pull the most sweet and pathetic little noises out of your boyfriend. Your pace is nearly cruel how slow it is. Steve doesn't even dare complain, especially not when you whisper his name so he opens his eyes— and he sees you looking at up him from your knees. Beautiful.

"S’missed you so much," you say again, rubbing over his slit as you do, and Steve feels that familiar flare of heat in his cheeks as he chokes out a whine. You nuzzle against his cock, soft lips giving the smallest of kitten licks to the head of it and Steve can’t help it, he keens, giving a loud whimper. His lust is equally entangled with adoration.

"Missed this cock too," you say, beginning to pump your hand a little faster. Steve’s breath catches. "Missed hearing all the noises you make when you cum, Stevie— y'gonna let me hear them again?"

"Yeah," He whines loudly, hips chasing your grip, fucking his cock into warm, wet hand. It feels fucking amazing. Pleasure claws at his chest, rising rapidly.

He doesn’t even sound like himself as the next string of words pours from his mouth, all high and breathy— he must be so wound up from being away from you, "Yes, yes, gonna- fuck, gonna give you anything— anything you want."

Slowing your hand, there's only a moment for Steve to whimper before you take him back in your mouth and start sucking, cheeks hollowing. Your hand on his cock trails up, giving a soft rake of nails along his thighs before giving a soft rub on his balls.

Steve shudders violently, a gaspy moan warbling out his chest and the only warning you get is his hushed whimpery whispers of, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," before he's spilling down your throat with a loud moan.

It drips from your mouth as you pull off, giving yourself some air as you take in the state of your boyfriend. It makes your feel down right carnal the way his looks slumped against the door, cheeks still coloured pink and pleasure written all over him.

You give him a minute before taking his softening cock back in your mouth, soft slow motions — Steve seizes up and whimpers loudly, hands reaching to pull you off him.

"Sensitive, christ," He pants a bit, gazing down at you. "S'too much, sweetheart."

You pout, turning to give his palm a little peck and give a little huff, then repeat your words from earlier. "Just missed you, baby. Won't you let me show you how much I missed you?"

Before you, Steve's cock twitches. You smile. It's going to be a long night.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

HAPPY 1K!!!! That's SO exciting and well deserved!!

Might I humbly request a ficlet with...

Z. "You'll do anything for attention, won't you?"

and ⭐Celebrity AU

Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! 🍓

I'm celebrating 1k followers, requests are open

Just how much I'll do

Rated: M

Words: 989

Tags: Celebrity AU, modern AU, rockstar Eddie, nepo baby Steve, fake dating, sexual tension, finger sucking, enemies to lovers

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“Ah, there they are,” Eddie says. “Took them long enough.” 

Steve stops chatting with the waitress to follow his gaze. Something is glinting beyond their window, in the tiny space between two cars on the other side of the dark street. A camera. The waitress hurriedly puts down their dessert and scurries off. Steve watches her go with a disappointed frown. Using the moment of distraction, Eddie reaches out across the table and tangles their fingers together. 

The frown melts into a bitchy scowl and Steve flinches like Eddie’s hand is something gross. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Eddie laughs, loud and unashamed in the hushed quiet of the restaurant.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos. He flips their entwined hands so they’re facing the window, running his thumb over Steve’s knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion. His smile is wide and teasing as he leans over the table and into Steve’s space. “I must admit I’m a tad bit insulted. I make an effort to look nice for you, take you to the fanciest restaurant in town, and you’ve got nothing better to do than flirt with the waitress all night? Why, Stevie, do you even still love me?” 

“Quit it, Munson,” Steve snaps, trying to yank his hand away, but Eddie holds firm. A few quizzical heads turn in their direction and he’s quick to stop struggling. When he speaks again, his voice is a low hiss. “You know as well as me that this is all a publicity stunt. Don’t forget about the deal.” 

“Sure,” Eddie drawls, snatching a chocolate-coated strawberry from his plate and popping it into his mouth. The chocolate bursts between his teeth and tangy, juicy sweetness explodes all over his taste buds, making him hum in pleasure. The place may be way out of his comfort zone, markedly different from his usual dark and edgy night clubs, but at least the food is excellent. “We go on a few dates together, let our friends out there take their little photos, write their little news stories. After a few months, we break it off amicably - no hard feelings, you’ll always be special to me, yadda yadda. My label gets off my ass about my ‘out of control’ lifestyle, your old man gets to beat those completely unfounded allegations of homophobia just in time for the big election. Look how supportive he is of his queer son, after all. A true champ, a beacon of tolerance and open-mindedness, a shining example for all of us.” 

Steve, who has just taken a sip of his wine, snorts so hard, Eddie’s surprised it doesn’t come shooting out of his nose. He has a nice laugh - pretty like the rest of him, but there’s a bitter little twist to his mouth that never seems to quite disappear. Eddie catches himself wondering what his smile would look like without it. 

“Please,” Steve sneers, putting his glass back down with a bit too much force. A few drops of wine splash over the rim, staining the table cloth red. “My dad’s a bigoted old asshole and we both know it.” 

The hand that’s still tangled with Eddie’s tightens, almost painfully. A small part of Eddie imagines the things Senator Harrington must call his darling son behind closed doors. 

“Makes me wonder, though,” is what he says, “why you agreed to play along in this little farce? Why help him out if he’s such a douchebag?” 

For a second, something pokes through the facade of bored indifference on Steve’s face, something open and vulnerable and honest. Eddie wants to grab a hold of it and pull it all the way to the surface, lay it bare and never let it go again. But it’s gone as quick as it came, slipping through his fingers like mist. 

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and the bitter curl returns to his lips. “Not like you’d get it.” 

He's right, Eddie thinks. He probably wouldn't. He hasn't seen his own sperm donor in twenty years. He doesn’t know what it's like, growing up in the shadow of an overbearing father, constantly forced to uphold your family's image, to live up to expectations. 

But something in the way Steve says it, all haughty and derisive, like Eddie isn't even worth an explanation, makes something ugly stir low in his belly. 

“Oh, I think I get it,” he says, plucking another strawberry from his plate. Steve watches with a furrowed brow how he lets it dangle between them, waving it idly about as he speaks. “I think it must be hard, constantly begging for daddy's love and acceptance, but only ever being fed the scraps. Always so eager, always so willing, but never quite good enough, you poor boy. You'll do anything for attention, won't you?” 

Steve's eyes go wide, perfect lips parting around a punched-out little sound. Eddie grins triumphantly, lifting the strawberry to his mouth. 

But he never makes it there. 

Steve surges forward, fingers closing around Eddie’s wrist. Eddie watches, heartbeat pounding in his skull, how Steve sucks the fruit into his warm, wet mouth. How pink lips slip over his fingers, all the way down to the first knuckle. Chocolate cracks and a thin rivulet of red juice trickles down Eddie's thumb. Steve darts out his tongue and catches it, never once breaking eye contact. 

“Holy shit,” someone whispers. It takes Eddie a moment to recognize his own voice. He knows it's impossible through the glass and the distance, but he swears he can hear how the camera shutter on the other side of the street goes crazy. 

Steve releases his fingers with a slick sound, tongue licking over plush lips to gather the last traces of strawberry and chocolate and Eddie still clinging to them. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, breath cool against Eddie’s wet skin. 

“Let's get outta here … and I'll show you just how much I'll do.” 

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And then they went home and had hate sex. The end.

[matchingbatbites]

I've seen posts here and there about Steve being done up in drag for fun, but please consider Steve discovering drag pageantry.

Drag pageants have been around since the 60s, and we already know that Steve is competitive, he played sports and he got jealous from Dustin just talking about Eddie.

So imagine Steve being done up by a queen because he's "so gorgeous, your bone structure is to die for, darling" and maybe he enjoys it, likes how it makes him look, likes the confidence he has while all made up.

And then he finds out you can compete? In makeup and dresses and be bitchy on purpose? He'd be all over that shit, and he'd be good at it.

Eddie would be nothing but supportive, and when Robin moves out they turn the spare bedroom into a second closet just for Steve's drag. He eventually gets a sewing machine and - after much learning - starts making his own competition gowns because he has a Specific Design that he wants to wear and can't find anything close enough to satisfy.

(Side note: I imagine his style being something like Vida Boheme in To Wong Foo, something classy and feminine, possibly influenced by his mother's sense of style (she may be an awful person but by God is she fashionable).)

When Eddie's band makes it big, they plan all of their shows around Steve's pageants because Eddie has to kiss Steve good luck before every single one. The one time he didn't, the zip on Steve's dress busted and one of his heels snapped and while Steve isn't superstitious, Eddie certainly is and "The only time I didn't kiss you good luck, everything fell to shit. It's not gonna happen again, baby, I promise."

They end up getting a shelving unit just to hold the crowns and scepters that Steve has won, the sashes get pinned to the wall and are quickly filling the space available. Steve takes a flower from every winning bouquet and presses it, has a little album where he keeps them, along with a photo of him and Eddie after each win.

Imagine Eddie proposing after a pageant one night. Steve didn't win, maybe he was second or third, but he didn't come home with the crown this particular night, and he's standing in the bathroom, scrubbing away at his face and working over where he may have lost points, trying to figure out how to be better next time.

And then Eddie is there, ring in hand and a lovestruck look on his face and all Steve can think about is that he's being proposed to while looking like a mess. His hair is sweat-slick from being under a wig for hours, makeup half-off, and still wearing the chunky earrings he'd forgotten to take out again.

But Eddie tells Steve how proud he is of him, how much he loves this side of Steve that only Eddie gets to see. That he wants to see it for the rest of his life and "Stevie, baby, if you don't say yes I might cry," and then cries anyway when Steve does say yes and kisses him, and then they're laughing at the bright lipstick smeared across their mouths and Steve completely forgets that he didn't win that night.

[munson-memories]

I hate that so many people forget that steve is bitchy. I wanna see more eddie and steve being bitchy and menaces together and not just steve being eddies caregiver that pulls him back by his collar when he gets out of hand.

Also Let steve explore himself and be crazy, not just the mom!

Let steve grow, explore and find himself outside his polo shirt lifestyle he was raised in. Let him be embarrassing, let him be a nerd, and weird, enjoy metal or music no one else likes and find new clothes!! He doesnt have to be exactly like eddie obviously but i think hes alot more like him and the kids than he realises

Let him wear out of season hawaiian shirts everyone makes fun of him for and flipflops with a hoodie and multicoloured mc hammer pants ?

I kind of love the idea of steve trying to find himself and not knowing how to dress because he never gave it much thought, just bought what looked nice but never anything that he really liked

The others tease him alittle but are fully supportive

[gregre369]

I’m fully on board with the whole Steve/Eddie/Chrissy ship.

Because Steve is a sweet boy who understands the pressures that “polite” society expects of their children. And would just spoil the shit out of Chrissy.

And eddie would see his two preps struggle with all their body issues and internalized phobias and just wrap them up in a blanket of love and understanding.

While both Chrissy and Steve would just validate the hell out of Eddie. Be so supportive of the band and in Chrissy’s case even play D&D with him(and be a total badass at it). Steve would watch and support from the sidelines and throw out sassy/bitchy o liners at the players.

Like the three of them make such good sense.

[mumblemysoul]

steddie fandom is wild because sometimes I'll be reading a fic and for some reason Robin is more of a friend to Eddie then she is with Steve.

Which is hilarious because the most emotional conversation they had with each other in the show is Robin criticizing Eddie's music taste as NOT music.

Head Cannon all you want but, I think she is firmly staying on her own side side of the music vibe chain. Not even if you have your punk or rock steves, which are fun au's but often feel like changing Steve to fit Eddie.

Steve is a bitchie sports dude that is great at being a baby sitter, (has lingering high school hierarchy personality but pretty much seems to pretty done with that).Wishes for everyone to be safe and will decimate himself in the process to achieve that, (and may accidentally be overprotective at times)he maybe isn't the smartest buckaroo in the room but will notice the things people miss and can make a makeshift plan in tight situations. Also painfully durable, at a certain point I'm pretty sure he can take a grenade to the chest and come out with some small cuts on his chest. He is thoroughly invested with his friends and wants to get them to be the best them they want to be,talking to Robin about the girl she always likes, watched star wars with Dustin and thinks the fact he has a girlfriend is great (even if he doesn't believe it). Alongside that he is a very gossipy individual and is very mean girl oriented.

Eddie is loud and greatly theatrical, he loves going against the man and the social system as much as he can. (Despite his wishes for going against the norm he also has a habit of also putting people in boxes, which he learns to practically not do over the course of season 4 due to his experience with steve and Chrissy). He has a habit of being soft and silly to try and make situations less tense and make people smile. He is extremely skittish despite his slightly mean persona that his friends are normally accustomed to. (As seen with his rough push for Dustin and Mike to find a replacement as he considers Lucas to have joined "the dark side",Dustin and Mike also seem scared before they have to tell the news too). After the Chrissy scenario he is extremely tense and for a long time skittish and uneasy as he currently being hunted. When he learns of the final battle he seems show his soft side to Dustin and overcome his skittishness in a last stand with vecna that ultimately leaves him dead.

These both characters intercept at their deep relationship with Dustin and wanting Dustin to be the best Dustin could be. What makes their relationship in fanon work is Steve's relentless drive to protect, be selfless while be a mean girl who gossips at the same time(looking badass during it). Steve to Eddie is someone by technicality, going against the norm in a unexpected way. In a way not even he can expect, and that he in a large way, he admires(while also admiring Steve's chest). While Steve can admire Eddie's ability to be Eddie, to bring out the part of Dustin that Steve can't quite understand but firmly supports.

Changing any of the two characters a lil too much can feel like copping out or kind of getting rid of what makes that character that character. Also, Robin is her own character too and needs more nuance then being seemingly changed to fit into a eddified box.

Idk maybe I'm big dumb and looking too much into things. I have a habit of also not understanding stuff either so, I'm sorry

No bad will to anybody, I like au's. I want oreos

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

A/N: I had to write this. I needed Nancy and Steve being parental as well as Steve being bitchy. Everyone's relationship is up in the air except for Robin and Joyce's. Joyce is clearly with Hopper. Robin is always with Vickie because people hate on Vickie for no reason. Anyways, love to all, no matter what you like. Unless you like Billy, then I'm judging you harshly.

Steve was already annoyed because his date backed out at the last minute, but now he was even more annoyed when he found out from Robin that they wouldn't be at Lucas's game. Just for one night, Lucas wasn't asking them to abandon the game completely but to take one night off. Don't they understand that this is what Lucas was afraid of? Not being able to be a jock and to be able to still be a nerd? Of losing his friends? One night wasn't an unreasonable thing to ask for. Sometimes, being a good friend means supporting them when they need it even if you don't like it or understand it, not all the time but sometimes. How do they expect Lucas to compromise for them when they need it if they never do it for him?

Steve was too in his own head to notice that someone else was striding towards the drama room. He arrived at the doors at the same time as Nancy. Their hands reached for the door handle. They stared at each other, and for a moment, Steve had forgotten what he was doing. Nancy looked so beautiful when she wasn't angry at him. Oh, she was angry. Was she angry at the same thing he was? Oh, right, Mike, Dustin, and Erica.

"You mad at the kids for abandoning and replacing Lucas, too?" Steve asked.

"Yes!" Nancy exclaimed.

"Well, let's do this together then, shall we?" Steve asked.

They opened the doors, causing them to bang loudly against the walls. Nancy and Steve stormed in, their hands on their hips.

"Hey, assholes!" Steve and Nancy exclaimed in unison.

They paused and looked at each other in surprise for a moment before turning back to them.

"Oh my God! They're together and they're both pissed!" Dustin shrieked.

"You're damn right we're pissed!" Steve yelled.

"Lucas asked for one night for you guys to be there to support him, and you couldn't give him that?" Nancy asked.

"It's not our fault Lucas went to the dark side!" Mike exclaimed.

"The dark side? So, all people who play basketball are Darth Vader?" Steve asked.

"You know Darth Vader?" Dustin asked.

"Of course, I do! I can be a little nerdy sometimes!" Steve exclaimed.

"He reads comic books, too!" Nancy yelled.

"What? Why didn't you say?!" Dustin asked.

"Whenever I try to join in on your conversations, you brush me off and scoff!" Steve yelled, and then his eyes went soft, as well as his voice. "Do you guys just think of me as a dumb jock who gives you free rides?"

"Nice mom guilt," Nancy whispered to him.

"Thanks," Steve whispered back.

"I mean, really, everything that Steve’s done for you. . .for Lucas, especially in Starcourt. He saved Dustin and Erica's life!" Nancy exclaimed. "And do you just think that all people who enjoy basketball are assholes?!"

"Nice dad guilt," Steve whispered.

"Thanks," Nancy whispered back.

"Hey, Mike, didn't you promise Will that you wouldn't join another party?" Steve asked, snapping his fingers at him.

"That's right, I mean, if D&D means so much to you, then why are you sitting here in another party?" Nancy asked.

Mike opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to find the answer. Dustin looked incredibly guilty. Good, Steve thought. Eddie scowled and stood up.

"Who gives a fuck about some stupid laundry basket game?" Eddie asked. "This is when we play. It's not our fault that Sinclair chose the wrong game."

"Lucas gives a fuck about that laundry basket game!" Steve snapped. "He wasn't asking for you to give up the game completely, he was asking for one fucking night so he that he wouldn't feel like a freak for enjoying both games! He wanted his friends to accept him for that and for someone who stood up on a fucking table to preach against forced conformity - yeah, Robin told me about that - here you are trying to force Lucas and his friends to only comform to D&D!"

Steve was pleased to see that Eddie looked like he had been slapped in the face.

"That's not - I mean - ," Eddie stuttered.

"Yeah, Robin was pretty much agreeing with you until you went after science and band," Steve said. "I mean, are you telling me that all of you have the same exact interests? Do you all like the same food? Do you all like the same music?"

"The problem isn't basketball. The problem is that every group has their assholes but they also have their good people, too," Nancy said, looking at Steve.

"And sometimes people can crossover into other groups," Steve said. "It happens."

"We didn't think Lucas actually enjoyed basketball," Dustin said.

"Yeah, he told us he wanted to stop being bullied," Mike said.

"Hm, and which group was he talking about?" Steve asked.

"What happens when one of your players gets sick?" Nancy asked.

"Well, yeah, we postpone then because it's a good excuse," Gareth said.

"A championship is a good excuse," Nancy replied. "But it's nice to know that you guys aren't completely heartless."

"Heartless?! We're not the ones beating the shit out of people because of what they like!" Eddie snapped.

"No, you're just letting them know that they're replaceable if they decide they need to explore other options," Steve said, and then he scoffed. "Can't believe I ever had a crush on you."

Eddie's eyes widened as the whole table gasped dramatically.

"You're fucking with me," Eddie said.

"No, I'm not," Steve said. "I like men and women. I know that liking more than one thing is a hard concept for you to grasp."

"That's not, I mean, you can like whatever you want, but liking basketball and D&D is different than that," Eddie frowned.

"I don't see how," Nancy said, shaking her head. "Do you guys play every day of the week?"

"Well, no," Eddie said.

"Well, if you don't play every day of the week, then it's not going to be the end of the world if you wait just one more day?!" Nancy asked.

"Okay, enough of this. I don't care if you guys come or not, but Dustin, Erica, and Mike, you guys are coming to the game to support your friend," Steve said clapping his hands.

"But - " Mike started to say.

"You heard your mother! I mean, your Steve! You heard Steve!" Nancy exclaimed, shaking her head again.

Mike and Dustin ducked their heads as they gathered their things. Erica held her head up high as she did the same thing.

"I didn't do anything wrong, they tricked me!" Erica exclaimed.

"Erica!" Nancy scolded.

As they were leaving with the kids, Steve overheard one of them - Frankie? - speak up.

"I wasn't ever going to say anything, but I, uh, kind of like watching basketball," Frankie said.

"Fine, fine! We'll go to the goddamn game," Eddie said.

It didn't take long for them to catch up with the group.

"Decided to join us assholes, huh?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, look, you were right, and Nancy was right. . .it's not going to be the end of the world if we wait one more day," Eddie said. "And of course, I know that Sinclair isn't going to turn out like those assholes especially if he has the support of his friends."

"Yeah, well, I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Steve said.

"Yeah, that's true. . . So, you have a crush on me?" Eddie asked.

"Had. As in past tense," Steve replied.

"Yeah, I suppose I deserve that," Eddie said. "I am curious to know if you are seeing anyone, though."

"I just tore you a new one," Steve said, looking at him in confusion.

"I know," Eddie grinned.

"Well, I'm kind of seeing someone," Steve said.

"Kind of?"

"It's on and off."

"Is he being intentionally vague?" Eddie asked Nancy.

"I can't say," she grinned.

"By the way, was I little too bitchy in there?" Steve asked Nancy.

"No, you were perfect. I know someone else who would have loved it like a certain someone did," Nancy said.

"Okay, you two aren't bad assholes, just annoyingly vague assholes," Eddie said, and they both giggled. "This is going to be a long game."

The game wasn't so bad as Eddie had thought it was going to be, especially when Chrissy jumped up and waved excitedly at the sight of him. He eventually got caught up with it when Lucas was sent in to play. He was glad he did come when he saw the pure joy on the young man's face when he saw almost everyone he cared about was there to cheer him on. When Lucas scored the winning shot, Eddie hugged Nancy and Steve both tightly. He needed to be reminded every once in a while that it's not just about him and what he likes. He started Hellfire to give lost sheep like Lucas a place to belong, and he almost ruined that because of a few bad eggs who happened to like basketball. Besides, people needed to know that just because you have different interests doesn't mean you have to be enemies.

"Thank you for making me come," Eddie told them. "I would have regretted it."

A week or so later. . .

"So, Nance, what were you saying about it not being the end of the world if I postponed the game for a day?" Eddie asked with a cheeky grin as he laid in his hospital bed.

"We stopped it before it could happen," Nancy rolled her eyes. "Do you regret going to Lucas's basketball game?"

Eddie grinned as he thought about the pure joy on Lucas's face.

"Nah!"

"Well, no one stayed dead, so there's that!" Chrissy grinned.

"Well, Hopper's still dead," Steve said.

"Oh, yeah," Chrissy frowned.

Suddenly, there came a knocking at Eddie's hospital room door. Robin got up to answer it.

"Steve, you were wrong. Hopper is very much alive!" Robin exclaimed. "Holy shit!"

Robin let Hopper and Joyce into the room. Moments later, Vickie skidded in behind them.

"Hey, guys, did you hear? Someone said they saw Chief Hopper wandering the hospital!" Vickie said and glanced at Hopper for a moment. "Hiya, Chief! Isn't that crazy, Robin? He's supposed to be dead, right?!"

"It takes her a moment," Robin said. "She gets there eventually."

"Oh my God! . . . Eddie, is that your mom?"

[harringtons-cupid]

You asked for anons and you shall receive! Maybe something for Steve where reader overhears some girls (in work or school or just out and about) gossiping and being mean about her, saying she's not good enough for Steve and they're super vapid and bitchy about it and she gets super self conscious, but the INSTANT Steve finds out he's on an absolute warpath to defend his girl, both to the girls and also showing reader how much he loves her. As smutty or not as you like, author's choice on that one! Love your writing, always brightens my day 🌻🌻🌻

I hope you liked this! Thank you for requesting! Big thanks to @bisexual-byers for helping me with this.

Feel free to donate to my KOFI! | MASTERLIST

It was a usual Wednesday, You were wandering through the school halls. After chatting to one of your teachers before class, you walked past the mean girl group when you heard them.

Gossiping about you. Instantly feeling worthless and sad as you turned the corner. Trying to get away from their taunts but their voices echoed down the hallway. Tears flowing out your tear ducts, as their voices echoed in your mind.

“Have you seen her?” “Yeah I know she think she’s so cool with her ‘alternative’ style choice.” “Ew” “She isn’t good enough for Steve” the group bursts out into loud laughter and walks away from their lockers.

You were rushing towards the gym locker doors when you went straight into someone’s body. Thankfully it was your boyfriend Steve, who placed his shoulders on either side of you with concern. Telling the group of boys that he’ll catch them later, he walked down the opposite hall with you until he pulled you into an empty classroom.

“Hey baby, what’s wrong? Why you crying” his voice was calm and sincere, meeting your eye level as he wiped away tears.

Taking a big inhale in, you felt yourself cry even more. Unable to get a straight sentence out to him before he pulled you in for a hug, stroking your back and hair to sooth you.

“Those girls… were saying horrible stuff about me” you mumbled between tears, feeling pathetic and sad as Steve looked at you.

“They even said I was worthy of you” you cried, pushing your head further into his chest.

“What? Who were they, please point them out to me” his voice got louder as he pulled you out from under him.

His eyes were scanning yours, you see the rage building up in his body. His arms shook as his hand held you, taking your hand into his. Sliding his hands down your body and picking you up, carrying you until a table was felt underneath you.

“You are always worthy of me” he softly spoke, kissing you once more before spreading your legs apart.

You squealed as he dropped to his knees, looking up at you between your legs. Exposing your underwear hidden under your skirt, your underwear was slightly damp as you felt his teeth scratch against his skin. He pulled the material with his teeth, it slightly cut into the skin but as your damp underwear grazed against your clit, you felt yourself shudder and whimper.

Your hands clamping hard onto the table for support as your underwear fell down to your ankles, Steve moaned at the sight of your dripping cunt.

“So so pretty” He mumbled as his tongue met your clit, gasping heavily as your head tipped back.

Spelling out his name on your clit, you moaned as your clit pulsated against his tongue. Speeding up his pace until your moans were filling the room, your hips bucking against the wooden table as you edged closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Oh Stevie, I’m going to cum” you panted, your head was tilted back in ecstasy.

He coached you with his tongue until your orgasm came hard and heavy, your legs shaking hard against the wooden table. His lips were sucking against your clit as you came into his tongue, he moved down your cunt.

Licking up the cum off your dripping cunt, your body was still shaking from overstimulation as he finally lifted his head from between your legs. His finger wiping every last bit of cum that he could see before shoving them down your throat, mumbling “always worthy of me” as his lips met yours.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you felt your legs shake as you rode yourself to your orgasm. Gasping and moaning as your hands made their

Steve grabs your hand as you regain control, the dizziness of being eaten out in an empty classroom made you feel all kinds of things. His hands were firm in yours as he led you down the hall, insistant on speaking to the girls.

“Excuse me, I need to speak to you” his voice was irritated and loud as he poked one of the girls on their shoulder.

Turning sound to sneer at him, before realising who it was. You stood behind Steve, watching as her eyes met yours.

“Yes” her shrill voice filled your ears with horror.

Feeling slightly embarrassed as you looked away from Steve and the girls, hoping they didn’t say anything more about you.

“I do not like the way you spoke about my girl.” He spat at her, standing up taller than her.

She blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed to be called out for her meanness as Steve studied her. Watching her turn back to her friends for a second before nodding, she strode towards you.

Hesitating for a second before a insincere apology passed through her lips, you quietly thanked her. Both you smiled sourly st each other before Steve pulled the main girl aside and whispered into her ear.

“If I ever hear you speak about her again. I will be having words” he spat, sending her daggers.

She shrugged and pulled out of his embrace before joining her friends, Steve met you round the corner.

Grabbing your face and kissing you roughly in the hallway for all to see.

[yikesharringrove]

For the longest time, Billy doesn't get why Steve keeps in contact with his parents when Billy was able to live his life without ever talking to his dad after moving out. He's tried exactly two times to see if they could repair their relationship and it's only reinforced that he wants nothing to do with his father. But Steve? He goes to his parent's parties and lets them show him off like some kind of rare dog breed. They call and he comes to stiff, hostiles family dinners and then home again to Billy, exhausted and sad.

Until one day Billy tries to convince him that he doesn't need to do this, that if they make him miserable and he doesn't have to bend over backwards for a scrap of affection and Steve looks at him with heartbreaking, genuine confusion and says "But I owe it to them. It's the least I can do to lay them back. For, y'know. Raising me. And the other stuff."

Steve had tears in his eyes when he closed the apartment door, and Billy knew it was a fucking bad one.

Dinner with the Harringtons was never a fun thing for Steve, but sometimes it was awkward and dull. And sometimes, sometimes it was downright hurtful.

He sat down on the couch next to Billy, curling so his head was on Billy’s lap.

“Baby, please. Next time they call, don’t go. You don't have to go."

Steve sighed, and Billy ran a hand through his hair, stiff with hairspray and neatly styled. So unlike the messy way he's been wearing it for the year they've lived together.

It was nice seeing Steve letting go. Not keeping up with the routines and expectations that were hoisted on him when he was young in a small town, with too-rich parents and too-little self-esteem.

"Bill, you know I do."

"Stevie, take it from me. I think that you'll feel a whole lot better once you're not at their beck and call. They don't care about you. It hurts, but you know it's true."

Steve squeezed his eyes closed, a sure sign he was still holding back tears.

"I can't cut them off, Bill. I can't. Neil, he was, he was so bad, but my parents, they're fine. They're fine, and I still owe them for years of putting up with me."

"You don't owe them shit! Parents are supposed to love their kids. And support them. And make them feel safe. And if you feel like you owe it to them for putting up with you, then they didn't do their one fucking job!"

Steve gently pushed Billy's hand out of his hair, sitting up on the couch to face him.

"It's just not so black and white. My parents didn't treat me like yours did. They paid for anything I wanted, and they let me do what I wanted without a lot of question. They bought my car, and they would've paid for my school, if I had gone."

"Throwing money at you isn't parenting. Loving you, is parenting."

"They love me." Steve's voice shook, and by the miserable look in his eyes, Billy knew even Steve didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"Y'know, you're my family. Right, Stevie? Neil, and my mom. They proved they didn't want me, and they didn't give a rat's ass. You're right, it was easier for me. With my mom, I didn't even have a fucking choice whether I wanted her in my life, or not. But, the way they treat you like some kind of show dog. Like you're an expensive painting they bought in France to impress their friends. They hurt you. And they keep hurting you. And you deserve to be happy."

Billy reached out and laced his fingers with Steve's.

"Don't sell yourself short. I was with you when you cut your dad out. It wasn't easy. And your mom was even worse."

"Don't change the subject." Steve rolled his eyes, which meant he was feeling okay enough to be bitchy. A good sign. "I've said it a hundred times: just because they didn't hit you, doesn't mean they were good.

"Parents insist on bringing their kids into the world, and expect them to kiss the goddamn ground they walk on, just for not leaving them in the woods. They fuck us up, and want us to thank them for giving us a life we never asked for."

"I don't know," Steve said, laying his head back down onto Billy's lap. "The only thing Neil ever did right was have you."

The phone rang on the side table, the brand-new called I.D. displaying Harrington. Steve sighed.

"They're pissed off because I didn't say goodbye to the secretary they conveniently invited to dinner and conveniently sat next to me."

They had a habit of that, inviting some young woman to their dinner parties, as if to entice Steve out of the happy, stable, consistent, (homosexual), relationship he's been in for the past eight years.

Steve stared at the phone, chewing on his bottom lip.

"They'll be even more mad if I don't answer."

"I can't make the choice for you. You know my thoughts. I love you either way."

Steve glanced back to Billy, and picked up the phone.

"Hi-" he was cut off almost immediately. "I know I didn't say goodbye, I had a long drive."

They knew he had a long drive. They knew it was nearly two hours from their place in Hawkins back to Steve and Billy's Chicago apartment. They had nearly times it perfectly to call when Steve would be home.

"Yes, she was very nice." Steve rolled his eyes. "And very pretty. True." Another eye roll. "No, would not like her phone number, Dad."

There was a long pause, and Steve rubbed his eyes, propping the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

"It's been eight years, Dad, and Billy and I are not breaking up. Please stop calling it a phase."

Steven's homosexual phase, they called it.

The few times BIlly's been invited to a dinner party, the Harringtons will be stiffly polite to his face, but Billy wouldn't like to hear what they say about him behind closed doors. Or, maybe he would. Maybe he'd finally give Mr. Harrington the left hook to the jaw he deserves.

Steve looked at Billy, and he reached out to hold Billy's hand. Billy's heart thumped in his chest.

"No, I won't be able to make it next week." He took a shuddering breath. "In fact, I won't be coming around anymore. At least, at least not until you can Mom can show me that you guys actually value me more than-"

Billy could hear the monotone sound of the line going dead.

"He hung up on me," Steve said, his lower lip trembling.

"I'm sorry, Baby." Billy tugged Steve into his arms, reaching around him awkwardly to slam the phone back onto the receiver. "But you are so brave. So brave." He rocked back and forth gently. "You've had a long night. Let's go to bed."

Steve nodded, and they got up to get ready for bed, Steve's hands shaking ever so lightly as he brushed his teeth.

He didn't say anything until the lights were off, and he and Billy were wrapped around one another in bed.

"Thank you, Bill. I couldn't've done that, stood up to him, without you. I love you."

"I love you too. And I love you without expectation."