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mc-i-r · 11 months

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Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: okay this chapter took way longer than expected but it's done! It's here! The final chapter is Heroes is out! Thank you all so much for your incredible support through the months of writing this story. Although this is the last chapter, I do plan on doing two additional parts to this story that dive deeper into the characters. However, as of right now it's up in the air for when these will be out as college is getting busy with the end of the semester and holidays rapidly approaching. That being said, I do plan on doing them! In the meantime, enjoy this final chapter!

Tw: graphic descriptions of violence (canon typical), homophobic language (self-directed), dissociation

———

He’s been on the couch for an indiscriminate amount of time, staring at the pristine marble fireplace he desperately wants to take his nail bat to. He doesn’t remember much of how he got here, only that he was at work at some point and must have driven himself home without really thinking. Now that he puts it that way in his mind, it doesn’t sound all that safe, but he’s fine and alive and sitting on the couch.

Steve blinks back into full consciousness when he hears a knock on the front door. He blinks one, twice, three times to get rid of the fuzziness that’s taken residence on the outskirts of his vision before hauling himself off the leather sofa. He’s honestly surprised he managed to space out so long on such an uncomfortable piece of furniture, the cushions stiff from disuse over the years. It’s just begun to gain that looseness from all the kids lounging on it, but it’s still rather uncomfortable in his opinion.

Wrapping a thick blanket around his shoulders, he moves sloppily towards the door. Whoever is on the other side has grown to knocking continuously, so much so it’s beginning to give Steve a headache. No one he knows would be coming by today. It’s Sunday, meaning most of the kids are off doing their own thing with their parents or hanging out in the ever eloquent armpit that is Mike Wheeler’s basement. Whoever is on the other side isn’t someone he knows, so he begins to turn and head upstairs to sleep the rest of the fuzzy off before a voice makes him freeze in his tracks.

“Steve?” A deep, raspy voice tinged with panic filters through the mahogany doors. “Steve, I know you’re in there.”

He watches the door as he continues the path to his room, ready to avoid whatever it is Eddie wants from him.

Maybe Eddie figured out Steve’s feelings and is here to reject him. Or maybe he’ll call Steve a fag and punch him just like Steve has done to countless people back in high school. Really, he wouldn’t blame him if he did, he deserves it. Maybe Eddie’s found someone else, and is here to tell Steve it will never work out, that he’s not into guys. He thinks that one would hurt the most.

“Steve, your car is in the driveway and the lights are on,” Eddie points out, and Steve can tell he’s raising his eyebrow and giving him a look just by the tone of his voice. “We need to talk.”

Steve doesn’t want to talk. Not right now. His head is mushy and he’s not thinking straight—which he isn’t, but still—and he feels like he’s barely standing on his feet. Part of him, a bigger part than he’d like to admit, wonders if he somehow fell asleep on the couch without noticing. That’s the only way he can justify Eddie’s presence on the other side of the door and the way he was frantically knocking beforehand while worriedly yelling his name. That’s the only way any of this makes sense.

Slowly—so very slowly—he walks up to the door. He red-hued wood stares back at him mockingly, separating him from the one person he wants most. Eddie is here, just on the other side, but he can’t bring himself to reach out and turn the knob.

What if Eddie is mad at him? What if he’s here to yell and hit and hurt him beyond repair? He’s already so, so weak for him, and he knows it wouldn’t take much for him to break completely. Eddie is… he means so much more to Steve than he can properly express, and he doesn’t want to open this door and have it ripped away from him completely.

Because that’s what it boils down to, doesn’t it? If Eddie is gone, he has nothing. Sure, there’s Robin, but something about Eddie is different in a good way. A way that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside even in the dead of winter. A way that makes him blush and swoon and pine from afar because that’s all he knows how to do. A way that makes him want with his whole being. A way that he knows could tear him apart because it’s just too good to be true.

He knows he should open the door. He can reach out and grasp the knob in his hand and turn it, can swing it open and reveal the man his heart is in pieces for. He can invite him in, sit down and talk about whatever he wants to. He can have Eddie back in his life if he just. Opens. The. Door.

But Steve is a coward, and all the bravery Dustin swears he has flies right out the window as soon as no one’s life is in danger, as soon as it’s only his life in question. He takes a step back, then another, until he’s safely away from the door and next to the steps. He swallows, the sound loud in the stilted silence of his empty house, and waits.

There’s a sigh on the other side of the door before muffled shuffling and murmured curses. Steve first thinks Eddie is leaving, that he finally realized Steve wasn’t going to open the door for him and had enough, but then he hears a tiny ‘aha!’. Seconds later, the sound of a key entering the lock echo through the foyer and Steve instinctively tugs the blanket closer around him.

The door swings open to reveal Eddie in a rumpled t-shirt, sweatpants, and messy hair that looks almost as wild as his eyes. His breathing is fast and he’s disheveled to the point that Steve has the fleeting thought he just woke up and panic-ran there—which, judging by the haphazard way his van is parked in the driveway, his assumption isn’t too far of a stretch.

Even now, with his hair a wild mess and presence like a whirlwind, he's beautiful. He’s missing his signature rings, making his fingers seem longer and more delicate. The faded Black Sabbath shirt hangs from his frame, the thin fabric allowing his collarbones to show through as well as the healing scars on his chest. His hair is in a messy bun with thick strands hanging around his face he must have missed when putting it up, and Steve desperately wants to twist them around his fingers and pull.

If he lets himself think about it for too long, Steve would imagine this is what he looks like when he wakes up. Eddie would crawl out of bed no earlier than ten o’clock, drag himself to the coffee machine and sip it black and grimace—he knows he doesn’t like it black, but he still tries it every morning anyway—before adding ungodly amounts of cream and sugar before leaning against the counter as he wakes up. Steve would be making breakfast, probably something boring like eggs and bacon, and smile when Eddie wraps his arms around his waist from behind and kisses his shoulder. He’d have a low morning voice, something husky and rough from years of smoking, and Eddie would perch his head on Steve’s shoulder to watch him cook. They’d sneak kisses the whole time, and Eddie would try to steal bacon off the plate even though it’s still hot and he would burn his tongue and complain about it for the rest of the day. Steve would suggest he kiss it to make it better, and they would end up making out in the kitchen while their food grows cold.

He’s pulled out of his daydream by the sound of metal scraping against metal. Eddie is focused on getting the key back out of the lock, and Steve knows he should tell him that the spare has a habit of sticking since it’s rarely used but no words escape him. He shuffles on his feet instead, willing his heavy limbs to move forwards. The movement catches Eddie’s attention, and he immediately stops fiddling with the lock to look at him. His eyes are wide, and a little glassy, and he instantly takes his hands off the knob to drop them at his sides.

Now that those doe eyes are looking right at him, Steve finds a whole avalanche of words threatening to tumble out; ‘You’re pretty’, ‘hey, Eds', and ‘I really like you’ being the top contenders. Instead, he lets out a meek “hi”.

Eddie grins, just a little nervous thing, and Steve wonders what he was even worried about.

“Hiya, Stevie,” he greets. He looks over at the door and winces. “I used the spare key, hope you don’t mind.”

Steve shakes his head. “That’s what it’s for. Sorry I didn’t let you in.”

“Don’t worry about it, Stevie,” Eddie assures. He finally pulls the key out of the lock and shuts the door behind him, leaning against it as he looks at Steve. “As nice as it is in your fancy foyer, I think we’d both rather talk somewhere a little more comfortable, don'tcha think?”

His words kick Steve back into gear and he gestures with his head to the living room. Eddie brushes against him as he goes to sit on the couch and Steve tries desperately not to flinch at the sudden contact and rush of heat he feels at the slight touch. Eddie sits on the couch with a huff and Steve stands to the side awkwardly, looking down at his feet and the ornate carpet instead of those big doe eyes he constantly gets lost in.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?” Steve offers, still not looking up. “I made some cookies yesterday if you want some— at least, I think it was yesterday—“

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, cutting him off and sealing his lips closed. He wordlessly pats the empty seat beside him on the sofa, raising an eyebrow in silent command. Steve looks at Eddie, then at the seat, and back again. It’s hard to tell the expression on his face and what exactly the other man is feeling, caught somewhere between concern and this gentleness he’s rarely seen.

Steve sits next to him with a quiet huff, subconsciously tugging the blanket around his shoulders until it’s just under his chin. He stares at the pristine brick underneath the fireplace, eggshell white and void of ash smudges or scratches. Steve has never seen an actual fire in that fireplace, only the styrofoam logs his mother had shipped to the house to look realistic without making a mess. He counts the rows, then each brick within the rows and the frame around them until he concludes that there's fifty-six bricks in the fireplace. It’s an odd number to end on but surprisingly even. He briefly wonders if his parents intentionally ended the brick count on an even number or if it just happened that way.

Eddie clears his throat next to him and Steve startles a little, breaking out of his brick-focused revere to glance at the man beside him. He looks nervous, hands twisting together and fingers tracing the empty space where his rings usually sit. Steve thinks that if Eddie had remembered them, he’d be twisting the heavy rings in their silence.

“We need to talk, Steve,” Eddie repeats. “This… this thing has gone on for way too long and we need to set the record straight.”

Steve holds back a snort at the word ‘straight’, feeling at this moment anything but. He can feel Eddie’s body heat even from the other side of the couch and part of him is screaming at his hands to reach out and touch. But, Eddie is here to talk, not touch, so he keeps his hands to himself and stiffly nods.

At least he has the decency not to say what Steve did wrong to his face. That small bit of mercy warms something within him even though he knows the following conversation will rip it apart. Eddie is going to tell him that it’s not worth it, that Steve isn’t worth it, and that he should stop trying to make amends because it’s never going to work. Eddie will never like him, that's a given fact proven time and time again by the cut-off comments and sideways glances and aborted touches.

He tears his eyes away from where they’ve focused back on the fireplace, choosing instead to look down at his lap. It’s better to rip the band-aid off early, just get straight to the point instead of beating around the proverbial bush. Steve takes a breath then releases it slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment while gathering his words.

“You don’t have to say it, Eds,” he murmurs and fuck, he didn’t mean for ‘Eds’ to sound so soft. He can’t help it though, not when the boy he wants is leaving him before they’ve even had a chance to be together. “I already know.”

He feels more than sees Eddie freeze beside him, stiffening up as if he was suddenly turned to stone. Wide brown eyes are turned his way and Steve can’t help but glance at them once more while he’s still allowed. They’re more shiny than usual, bouncing over Steve’s face like two rocket-powered pinballs.

As the silence stretches on, he can tell Eddie won’t be the one to fill it. That’s okay, really, because he needs to explain himself. Might as well get it out in the open before all the yelling starts and he shuts down completely.

“I know you don’t like me,” Steve starts and Eddie immediately makes a noise of protest. He glances at the other with pleading eyes and a small, sad smile. “Can I get it all out before you say anything? I just… I need to say this without any interruptions.”

Eddie immediately nods, miming zipping his lips closed, locking them, and throwing away the key. Steve can’t fight the smile that forms on his face at the action, finding the little show of childishness endearing. It’s nice to see Eddie act more like himself after everything, even though the circumstances are less than ideal.

“Thanks,” he says. Steve takes a breath, closing to look down at his hands rather than at Eddie. He squeezes them together, watching as his knuckles and the tips of his fingers turn white with pressure.

“I know I’ve been too clingy with the group lately and was pushing people to hang out with me. I…” he trails off, huffs. “It sounds bad but I usually don’t notice how I’m acting until someone points it out, and… and I realize now how I’ve been and I promise to leave them alone.”

Eddie shifts beside him, scooting closer to his hunched form on the couch. A hand enters his periphery, but Steve keeps his own firmly planted in his lap. He begins picking at the skin beside his nails, a nervous habit he can’t quite get rid of, to take his mind off the man next to him.

“I have one condition though,” Steve requests. He starts, pauses, and when the words get caught in the back of his throat he resorts to nervously rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. He needs to say them, needs Eddie to know, but the words just… won’t come out.

A slender hand moves over his and settles softly over his twitching fingers. Steve stops picking at the contact, the touch freezing him and filling him with unbearable warmth at the same time. He doesn’t look up, afraid to find the annoyance that’s most likely there at his repetitive movements, and instead lets the touch wash over him. It travels up his hands, through his arms, and bee-lines for his fragile heart. It travels up his neck, unsticking the words there and giving them new life.

“Promise me you’ll take care of the kids, Eds,” he croaks out, voice suddenly raw and fragile. “Take care of them and of yourself too, okay?”

There’s silence after his request but Steve doesn’t dare move. His eyes never travel up to look at Eddie, and he doesn’t think he has the right to. He doesn’t want to see the discontent on his face, or the satisfaction or acceptance or happiness or whatever it is at the thought of never having to see Steve and all of his bullshit anymore.

Instead, he focuses on the hand over his, his eyes tracing the divots of the knuckles and the faint freckles found there. He counts the visible veins and follows their path upwards. He watches the tendons flex as Eddie taps his hand twice, the motion so deliberate it causes Steve to look up at him on instinct.

The expression he finds there is not what he was expecting. His eyes are wide and glossy, the deep brown shining a little in the midday sunlight. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are a thin line. It’s an expression Steve’s never seen before, one that doesn’t feel right on Eddie’s face. He looks… in a word, Eddie looks scared.

That quickly changes, however, when Eddie roughly shakes his head from side to side—fluffing up his hair in the process—and looks at Steve with concern. He points at his mouth and Steve only quirks an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what that means—“

He’s cut off by Eddie shooting off the couch, looking left and right before falling to the ground on his knees with his back to Steve.

“… Eddie?”

Steve is ignored as Eddie stretches his arms out and pats the rug as if looking for something. Steve’s two seconds away from joining him on the floor when Eddie makes a triumphant noise and stands up, turning back to Steve and holding up his hand with his fingers clenched around… nothing.

There’s nothing in his hand but Eddie still brings it up to his face and just then, Steve realizes he was looking for the invisible key he threw away earlier. Eddie mimes unlocking and unzipping his lips, and Steve finds the whole action so ridiculously Eddie that he can’t help but shed a ghost of a smile.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmurs, a hand coming up to rest on Steve’s cheek so gently it makes his chest hurt. Eddie flicks his eyes between Steve’s, the deep brown reflecting some of the light from the open window. This close, Steve can see small swirls of yellow within the brown, like golden leaves passing by warm bark as they fall in autumn.

Eddie wipes under his eyes with his free hand, and Steve can feel wetness drying on his cheeks. He didn’t realize he was crying, but Eddie’s gentleness makes more sense now. He smiles at him, a sad little thing that has no right being this beautiful on his face, as he pushes some of Steve’s admittedly flat and greasy hair out of his eyes.

His hair is getting long now, falling just at his shoulders, but he has no desire to cut it. Sure, it gets in his face all the time and he has to use the little claw clips he stole from Robin to keep the shorter pieces back when he gets hot but cutting it… it just doesn’t feel right anymore.

Maybe it’s because his parents aren’t here to tell him he looks bad with long hair, and that he should cut it before people start “talking”. Maybe it’s because it’s new and Steve liked how long his hair had gotten when he worked at Scoops but had cut it when Robin did so they would match. Maybe it’s because he feels more himself when it’s long, like he’s letting go of the pretty boy jock of the past and finally being himself. Or maybe—and more likely—it’s because he stopped caring about what he looked like since no one was around to see him anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve freezes. Blinks. Opens his mouth once, closes it, repeats the process.

Because in what world would Eddie Munson need to apologize to him?

Steve is the one who fucked up. Steve is the one who pushed everyone away, who was too much. Steve was the harbinger of his own self-destruction. It was always Steve, Steve, Steve—

“No, Stevie—“ Eddie begins, then cuts himself off. His hands grip Steve’s face tighter, small in pressure and forcing him to look into his eyes. “Don’t do that. I know what your head is telling you, sweetheart, but let me explain before you come to any conclusions, yeah?”

And Steve… he doesn’t know what to say. No one has ever noticed him like this before. Has never shown it even if they had.

“It’s—It’s okay, Eds, you don’t—“

“No, I do, Steve. I need to explain, okay? Will you let me?”

Eddie is asking Steve for permission. Is asking for time, for a chance, and Steve has no other choice but to grant him his wish. He nods in Eddie’s hold, shallow but meaningful all the same. Eddie smiles that sad smile, the one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and shifts so his whole body is facing Steve. Full attention is drawn to him, consuming him, and Steve only sits. Watches. Waits.

“Just… When I tell you, will you promise not to be mad?” Eddie scrunches his face like he’s waiting for a verbal assault, like he’s waiting for Steve to say ‘no’. He doesn’t know if he could ever be truly mad at Eddie, doesn’t think a bone in his body could hate the man before him.

“Eds, I could never hate you,” he murmurs. “I promise, I won’t be mad.”

Eddie huffs, something akin to a laugh and a sigh, and looks down at his lap. His face is colored with sour sadness, something that has died long ago and turned rotten.

“I don’t know if you can keep that promise, Steve. Not for this.”

“Eddie, look at me,” Steve asks, and Eddie does as he’s told. He looks right in his eyes, holding eye contact, and says, “I promise I will never, ever hate you.”

Eddie nods, takes a breath and Steve can feel the slight tremble of his hands.

“As much as I regret the truth, your soulmate is the main reason I’m here right now,” he begins, smiles to deflect and rolls his eyes. “Robin practically burst into my trailer to tell me to get my shit together and she was right because Steve… Steve, I was a mess.

“I could barely function. I’d spend all day in my room, playing songs over and over and over again until I heard them in my sleep because I couldn’t let myself give in to what I wanted most.”

He doesn’t say it, not explicitly, but Steve knows. He knows, because he feels the same thing. That unbearable need to be with someone, the near possession that sinks down to his core and forges iron bars in his bones. The weight that settles in his stomach when he’s without, when he’s alone. He knows, because he’s felt that way about the man in front of him everyday since March. Since senior year. Since goddamn high school—

“There’s this person,” Eddie confesses. “I’ve found someone that makes me really happy.”

The world stops. Time slows. Steve feels his heart pause in his chest, feels it skip a beat. His body grows cold and washes from head to toe, the iciness reverberating in his bones. Eddie’s found someone. He’s found someone that isn’t Steve.

It’s the worst case scenario. Eddie has found someone and is here to let him down easy. His visit makes more sense now. Eddie has figured out his feelings and is here to reject him. Reject him because Eddie’s with someone else—

“Oh,” he breathes out. He can feel his head start to float, can feel his mind slipping away because it doesn’t want to think anymore, doesn’t want to accept that Eddie doesn’t want him. The fuzziness returns, clouding the edges of his vision.

“Can I tell you about them?” Eddie asks, like they’re friends. Like they regularly tell each other about their crushes. Like this is just.. like it’s fun. Steve only has the strength to nod.

“They’re beautiful,” Eddie starts. “They have silky brown hair and tan skin, marked with cute little moles and an array of scars. They wear these tight little Levi’s that drive me crazy, I mean it’s downright sinful.

“More importantly, they’re sweet. They always put others before themself, always asking how everyone else is despite no one ever asking how they are. They give out rides and take people wherever they want, no matter what. They’re a little bit of a pushover, but it’s only because they love people so fully and wholly that they can’t help it.

“This person… I think they’re it for me, Stevie,” Eddie finishes. “I think I’ve found the one.”

The words hit him like an out of body experience, like he’s watching himself have this conversation without having any conscious input. It doesn’t feel real. Steve can’t feel the couch underneath him or the blanket around his shoulders, just as he can’t hear the words from Eddie’s mouth or the meaning behind them. His brain stopped working when Eddie confessed and now he’s running on autopilot alone.

“I’m happy for you, Eddie,” he pushes out with a smile, a fake plastic-like thing that feels heavy on his face. “I hope it works out for you two.”

“Me too. This person means a lot to me, you know.”

He doesn’t, and he really doesn’t want to. Honestly, Steve just wants this conversation to be over so he can crawl in his bed and decompose for the next month.

“I’m glad.” He’s not.

“The kids love them and so does Robin. They make us feel complete, and without them we’re a mess.”

Those words wake him up a little. They’ve already met the kids and Robin. They fit just as Steve didn’t. They complete the puzzle of the full family picture, one without Steve in it. They’ve replaced him. They don’t need him. They’ll never need him, he’s just—

“It’s good that they’ve found someone. They need someone like that.”

“Yeah, Stevie, they do,” Eddie says quietly. “But I did something that made them go away, and I’m trying to get them back.

“See, I thought that if I kept myself away, that my feelings would go away too. But uh…” Eddie looks down at his lap and huffs. “My feelings are still here and all I did was push away the person I wanted most.”

“I’m sure they’ll forgive you,” he assures, even though the words feel like ash on his tongue. “If they’re any good, they’ll understand.”

Eddie looks at him then, his dark brown eyes boring into his. Steve looks back, flicking his eyes across his face as if it holds the secrets to the universe. As if Eddie’s face will tell him what he’s supposed to do next.

“Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Understand,” Eddie supplies. There’s a small, sad smile on his face as he tilts his head. Steve furrows his brows.

“Why would I need to—“

He pauses. Rethinks Eddie’s words.

“…Brown hair and tan skin… moles… scars… rides… pushover”

No. It can’t be him, it can’t. Steve can’t listen to Eddie’s loud music for more than a few minutes before getting a migraine. He’s got no experience being with a guy and has only just recently accepted that he’d like to be with one. There’s no way Eddie could be talking about him because he isn’t special, isn’t someone Eddie would like. At least, not like that. Steve is just Steve, and Eddie is so… so Eddie.

But Eddie’s looking at him with that look, the one he gives when he’s trying to tell him something without actually saying it. His doe eyes are staring at him full force, working overtime to tell Steve something he can’t quite understand.

Eddie quirks an eyebrow and something clicks. Puzzle pieces start to fall into place.

But… It can’t be—

“Me,” Steve whispers. It’s a small, broken thing, like a butterfly with a busted wing. Beautiful but tarnished, alive but not whole. Eddie only smiles, this one less sad and more soft.

“Yeah, Stevie, you,” he whispers back, just as quiet. “Staying away from you was the hardest thing I ever did, and I will spend the rest of my goddamn life regretting it.”

It doesn’t make any sense why Eddie would stay away when they’ve both been pulled together like two dying stars in a collapsing universe. Steve thought he was alone in his wanting, in his pining, but Eddie had been right there with him and that… that is terrifying.

He wants to scream at him, to yell and ask him a million times ‘why?’. He wants to punch a fucking wall. He wants to beg and plead for an explanation. He wants to cry, and maybe throw up a little. He wants to collapse in Eddie’s arms and be held, be kept safe, and he doesn’t ever, ever, want to leave.

Pressure on his face makes his eyes drift back up, unaware they had wandered elsewhere until Eddie coaxed them back to him. He thinks that every part of him will always drift back to Eddie somehow, like he’s the beacon Steve will forever be drawn to. A hand slips off his cheek, fits right over one of Steve’s like a missing puzzle piece. Steve turns his hand and slots his fingers between Eddie’s.

“I never hated you, Steve. Never,” Eddie confesses, cheeks catching a rosy glow as he looks down at their hands, fingers entwined. “It was uh… the opposite, actually.”

There’s an implication there, a little snippet of what Eddie’s really saying. ‘I like you, Steve, I’ve always liked you. I lo—‘

Steve squeezes his hand, rubbing his thumb along his knuckles and causing a smile to form on the others’ face. It’s small, shy like Eddie doesn’t know it’s there. He looks up then, eyes deep brown and yellow, and he’s beautiful but Steve feels like he’s dying all the same. Like Eddie has the power to keep him alive or kill him in one breath. The truth is, he does.

“I’m a coward, Stevie. Always have been,” Eddie huff a humorless laugh, more of a rush of air through his nose than anything. “I did what I always do. I ran. I ran from you.

“Not because of anything you did, mind you, but because I didn’t want to admit to whatever was—is—all up in my head. I didn’t wanna show too much and make you uncomfortable because I know how you are with touch sometimes and I didn’t trust myself to keep my hands to myself.

“I mean, god, do you know how many times I had to literally sit on my hands to keep from running them through your hair or holding your hand or doing the cheesy fucking yawn-and-stretch move?” He confesses, and the absurdity of it makes a loud laugh burst out of Steve’s throat. Eddie’s got a real smile on his face this time, one that’s happy, and maybe a little teasing. “I’m serious! I’m surprised no one caught me looking at you. I mean, I was always looking, Stevie, but I knew I could never touch—“

“You could’ve,” Steve interrupts, feels it’s important. He needs Eddie to know. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“You would have minded, Steve,” he insists. “I didn’t want to give you a friendly pat on the back or clap your shoulder. I wanted—I still want—something you don’t want to give me.”

“How do you know? How do you know I don’t want you to give it, Eddie?”

“‘Cause you don’t like me like that, Steve,” he says with a sad sort of confidence, like he knows it for a fact. Like Steve doesn’t feel the same and he—

Oh.

Eddie doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know what Steve’s feeling or what he’s been going through because he doesn’t believe Steve could ever want him back. This isn’t a mutual confession, this is Eddie bearing his throat at Steve in an attempt to bring him back. This is self-sacrifice, martyrdom at its finest.

This is Eddie planning a second suicide.

“By ‘that’ I mean gay, Steve. I’m… I’m gay,” Eddie confesses, but Steve is so wrapped up in his own mind that he can’t say what he wants to. He wants to smile, thank him for sharing, assure him that nothing will change between them—unless they want it to—and hug him because telling people is hard.

But no words come out, and he’s stuck in Eddie’s gentle hand on his face and big brown eyes locked onto his.

“And I really hope you’re okay with it because I can live with not having you like that, I have before and I can do it again, but not having you at all is something I can’t survive. Something I won’t survive. Hell—I barely made it through staying away for as long as I did.

“Steve, I sat in my van multiple times over the past few weeks contemplating if I should come over to your house or not just because I missed you,” he exposes, mouth forming that beautifully sad smile. “But I went back inside every time because it was pathetic, I was pathetic.”

Eddie looks down, then immediately shoots his head up with wide eyes bouncing between Steve’s.

“Shit, now that I say that out loud it sounds incredibly creepy. Fuck… I didn’t mean it like that, I swear, I mean it wasn’t that often anyway and I never—“

“Eddie.”

His mouth shuts with an audible ‘click’, and Steve winces in sympathy. His wince turns into a hesitant smile, however, as he raises a shaky hand to cover Eddie’s on his cheek. He leans into the touch—probably more than he should—and watches the way Eddie’s eyes widen a little.

“You don’t hate me?” Steve mutters, those four words loud in the silence of his empty house.

Eddie shakes his head rapidly, reminding Steve a little bit of a puppy. “Like I said, Stevie, I could never hate you.”

He can’t help but scoff and roll his eyes, remembering the various lunchtime speeches the other announced to the cafeteria in high school about social hierarchies and sticking it to The Man.

“I’m sure you hated me in high school, Eds,” he counters.

Instead of agreement, Steve is—to his surprise—met with a very flustered and red Eddie. He’s ducked his face so it’s partially hidden behind loose ringlets of hair but Steve can still see the redness high on his cheeks. He won’t look at him, won’t lift his head, but something tells him it’s not because he doesn’t want to.

“Holy—“ Steve huffs a shocked laugh. “Edward Munson, did you have a crush on me?”

“Oh god,” Eddie groans, covering his face with both hands and shaking his head. “You’re going to be so annoying about this, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies innocently, a smirk firmly lodged on his face.

“Is it really that surprising?” Eddie asks rhetorically. “I mean, how’s a queer kid in small town America not gonna have a crush on the incredibly hot co-captain of the swim team with his tight little speedos and smarmy wink that makes everyone wanna drop their panties for him?”

Steve rolls his eyes but leans in a little and drops his voice just to tease him. “Did you want to drop your panties too, Eds?”

Eddie goes scarlet as he shoves Steve’s face away half heartedly. Steve cackles, unable to help it when Eddie flops back dramatically with an arm thrown over his face like a distressed damsel.

“But seriously,” Steve asks when his laughter has died down. “Why did you have a crush on me? I was a total douchebag.”

Eddie looks up at him from his slumped position on the couch and shakes his head as he sits up. “You were different.

“I could tell you didn’t enjoy what you did in school. You didn’t like being mean to people, didn’t like being cruel, and you always had this… this sympathy for people. People like Tommy and Carol and fucking Billy Hargrove had this hunger in their eyes but you… you never did.

“You were different from them. You were better, good. Even back then,” he insists. Eddie scoots closer and rests his hands on either side of Steve’s face, cupping it gently like he did earlier. He locks their eyes.

“You’re still good, Stevie,” he whispers and tilts his head with a smile. “Think you’ll always be good.”

There’s that word again. ‘Good’. Something he strives to be but can never quite reach. It’s like waking up from a dream and forgetting the details. They’re right there, just out of reach, but no matter how hard you try they always slip away.

His eyes begin to sting and water, salty droplets resting on his lower lashes and falling down his face as he blinks. His chest feels tight, like all the air was pushed out of his lungs and he can’t quite fill them up again. No one has ever told him that before. No one has ever looked past the shell forged of bitchy attitude and sarcastic comments to see what’s underneath and liked what they’d seen.

Eddie has looked now. He’d taken a chisel and hammer and patiently chipped away until Steve cracked, until his shell opened up and Eddie was allowed to look inside.

He can feel the way his mind floats away, how he recesses back into his head but not because he wants to. His emotions are a lot on their own, but coming out all at once like this is too much for him to handle.

He vaguely registers the way Eddie’s eyes blow wide and how carefully he wipes away his fresh tears. His mouth is moving, saying words Steve can’t hear as he falls apart. He can’t help the broken sob that climbs its way out his throat, nor the way he tries to duck his head to hide his face. Eddie won’t let him, however, and instead tugs him closer. An arm drops down around his waist and pulls, moving Steve in Eddie’s lap in one fluid motion. Eddie’s other hand gently coaxes his head to land in the crook of his neck, leaving Steve feeling safe and held in a way he’s never experienced before.

Heaving sobs wrack his body, forcing shudders that go down to his bones to ripple across his skin. Weeks, months—hell, years—of pent up emotions are flooding out now, soaking Eddie’s shirt and skin. He’s being loud, hiccuping and sniffling right next to Eddie’s ear but the other just holds him. He holds him in a way that’s protective, like Eddie’s trying to shield him from all the pain and hurt in his past. Like holding him could make it all go away. Steve desperately wishes that were the case, that he could leave all of it behind like he wants to. But he also knows it’s not that simple, that his pain won’t go away with one hug or a single kiss no matter how much he hopes.

He can feel the vibration of words underneath him but his brain can’t quite comprehend them. A hand is carding through his hair, gingerly detangling it and pulling ever so slightly. The pressure on his scalp helps him focus a little, brings him back into his body where crying had taken him out. Eddie is rocking back and forth and doesn’t stop when Steve calms down.

Steve goes to pull away, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. “Sorry, I don’t… I don’t know what that was—“

“Shhh,” Eddie cuts him off, both arms around his waist now and holding him in place. “It’s okay, Stevie, you clearly needed a good cry. Just didn’t know I’d be the one to instigate it.”

A laugh escapes him, Steve rolling his eyes as he shoves at the man beneath him playfully. He doesn’t get up, however, feeling safe in the arms that hold him in place. Eddie wipes away the rest of the tears drying on his face, giving Steve that small, private smile he’s only seen a handful of times. One he knows is just for him.

Eddie’s hand doesn’t leave his face and instead settles for brushing oily strands of hair back in place. Fingers linger on his cheekbones, tracing under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. There’s a scar there on the bridge from where Jonathan had busted it, and later Billy added on by breaking it. His nose sits a little crooked now from not being properly healed, but Steve really couldn’t care less. Doesn’t think it matters much anymore, as it doesn’t seem to matter to Eddie either. Eddie’s eyes are soft, the corners of his mouth turned up just a little.

“What’s on your mind, Eds?” He whispers, voice strained from crying. The hand tracing his face pauses.

“Just thinking about you…” Eddie confesses, smile widening. “Even with your face blotchy red and puffy from crying, you’re still beautiful.”

It’s Steve’s turn to blush, face turning red as Eddie laughs.

“It’s true!”

“Is not—“

“No, I’m totally right.”

“Uh-huh.” Steve rolls his eyes before closing them for a moment, letting himself smile. The tightness in his chest has dissipated now, his lungs free to breathe. He leans back slightly, just enough to find and play with the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie’s hands squeeze his waist, making him look up. “What’s on your mind, Stevie?”

Steve huffs a laugh at the repeated phrase. “Where to start…”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Eddie assures. Steve takes a breath.

“I can’t believe this is real, Eds. That you’re… you’re here and holding me like I’m special,” he begins, focusing on his hands playing with Eddie’s shirt hem instead of the man himself. “I didn’t think anyone would hold me like this—would even want to—much less you.”

“Why not, Steve?” His voice is gentle, coaxing. Steve hesitates to tell him, to give him the truth of what he’s been feeling the whole time. But Eddie was brave, he told Steve and now it’s time to return the favor.

“‘Cause I’ve had a crush on you for months, Eds, ever since that stupid fucking boathouse. I should’ve said something but I… I was too scared to say anything. Didn’t want to get my heart broken again.

“Then you stopped coming around and hanging out and wouldn’t talk to me or tell me what I did wrong and it… it fucking hurt, Eddie,” he confesses. He sniffles, trying to calm down before he starts crying again. He’s had enough humiliation for the day, thank you.

“It hurt because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, not even Nancy. Hell, she’s practically no one compared to what I feel about you. There’s this… this feeling of wholeness when I’m with you, like I finally feel complete somehow despite not even knowing part of me was missing. Having a taste of that and then losing it, losing you, made me break.

“I didn’t know if you felt the same, and I still can’t really believe that you do,” Steve admits. He clenches his eyes closed, begging the tears pricking his eyes to go away. “I’ve accepted that I’m not cut out for love. Everyone I try to get close to never seems to stick around long afterwards, so I’ve just… stopped trying.

“I told myself I’d keep my distance. I mean… I know I’m too much for people sometimes, got too much going on up in my head, and I thought that was why you pulled away,” he finishes. Eddie squeezes his waist again, causing Steve to look up and find a pained expression on his face he’s sure he’s not supposed to see.

“How… how could you think that?” Eddie questions, voice quiet like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s saying. Eddie cups his cheek with a soft hand, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone as he looks in his eyes. “How could you think that no one could love Steve Harrington?”

It’s a question he has a million answers to, a million different reasons for why. They replay in his head constantly, ever present and never fading. Letting it all out and telling Eddie what he can barely admit to himself isn’t something he thinks he can do.

But Eddie’s looking at him now with those big brown eyes and soft lips curved slightly downwards into a subtle frown, eyebrows scrunched earnestly. It makes all of his inhibitions melt away, makes his tongue unfreeze and words bubble up his throat.

“People have always loved the idea of me, Eds,” he begins. He smiles a bitter smile that feels like acid on his lips. “King Steve with daddy’s money to keep the liquor cabinet well-stocked and absent parents gone for weeks at a time meant an empty mansion perfect for parties. People would show up before I even knew what was going on, but I learned to go with it because saying no didn’t seem like an option. I’d just grab a bottle and hope for the best, figuring I might as well have a good time–or at least pretend like it.

“A few people looked under that facade and saw who I really was beyond all that. Tommy knew I hated parties and loud noises but nine times out of ten he was the one to invite everyone over. Nancy… I don’t think she ever really understood. Nance always had this preconceived notion about how people were and how they’re supposed to be and she couldn’t accept that I was different than that, that I diverged from her point of view.

“Looking back at it now, I think that’s a major reason why we didn’t work out. When people look at me, the real me, they never tend to stick around long afterwards. Hagan quit talking to me when I admitted I didn’t want to harass people anymore and Nancy—well, you pretty much know what happened but she didn’t stay long after I changed either,” Steve admits. He closes his eyes and leans into Eddie’s hand. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

Movement makes his eyes open to see Eddie shaking his head. “That’s not who I’m talking about,” Eddie corrects as he cups Steve’s face with both hands, the empty space on his waist feeling cold in the absence of warm arms.

“The Steve I’m talking about makes soup for sick Party members and parents. He gives out little gifts he picks up just ‘cause for the kids, Robin, or me. He hates who he was in the past, and has done more than enough to make up for it—not that he needed to in the first place. The Steve I’m talking about cares so much for other people that it consumes him to the point where he forgets about himself sometimes,” Eddie pauses, and Steve takes it as an opportunity to interrupt.

“But I haven’t done any of that in weeks, Eds,” he protests. “Besides, I’ve got tons of free time to look after myself now that the kids aren’t talking to me and—“

He cuts himself off at Eddie’s wince, a harsh thing that scrunches up his eyes and makes him flinch back like he was hit. It’s enough to make him wonder if he said something wrong, something that upset Eddie that he didn’t know about. God, can he do anything right? Jesus fucking Christ he’s hopeless.

“That’s uh…” Eddie trails off, pointedly avoiding eye contact as he sucks a breath through his teeth. “That’s my fault too.”

What?

“What?” Steve asks. “Wait, how?”

“The kids,” Eddie pauses to shake his head and mumble. “Stupid ones at that, came to the very misguided conclusion that I didn’t like you and started avoiding you on my behalf. Which I know is very unfair since you’ve known them way longer than I have and have literally saved their lives countless times. Like I said, stupid kids.”

Steve blinks. Thinks, blinks again. This wasn’t his fault. He did nothing to warrant being ignored for weeks, for being talked down to or excluded from conversations or gatherings. He did nothing to the kids, to Joyce or Hop or Robin or Eddie or anyone. He. Did. Nothing.

All of his paranoia, all the sleepless nights he spent roaming the streets with a bat covered in nails and dried blood was for nothing. All the worry, all the nightmares and panic attacks over the Party dying was for nothing. All the fear that turned his veins to ice and caused his words to stop was for nothing.

“Oh.”

It was all a misunderstanding. A silly little misunderstanding that made him lose his goddamn mind for weeks and obsess over every little interaction he’d had with the Party to try and parse out what went wrong. It was all because of some stupid crush and some stupid kids who like to stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the long ends before meeting Eddie’s gaze. He looks apologetic, like he knows what Steve went through and is feeling it all second hand. There’s anguish in his eyes, like Steve’s pain is now his. In a way, it is.

“Steve, I’m sorry I caused all of this,” Eddie apologizes. “I’ve already talked to the kids and told them the truth—well, some of the truth, anyways—and they know what they did was wrong. I told them to give you some space though, so you’ve got a day or two before a bunch of teens bombard your house and start throwing apologies at you. Also, Robin was totally mean to me today but she knows—wait, why are you laughing?”

Steve can’t help the laugh that escapes his throat, or the way his eyes water as his eyes scrunch. This is all so ridiculously funny, like a sitcom episode in real life. The pining idiots have a misunderstanding and there’s despair on both sides until the truth is revealed and they confess. The ‘what if’s play through his head, but instead of worst-case scenarios it’s what he and Eddie could have been this whole time if they had gotten their heads out of their asses sooner.

“Sorry, sorry, I just—“ he cuts himself off to wipe his eyes. “I was just thinking that I should’ve kissed you when I had the chance. It would’ve prevented all of this from happening.”

It’s a delight to watch Eddie’s eyes widen and face grow red at his explanation, and Steve feels like he discovered the eighth wonder of the world when the other man lets out an honest to god squeak that has no right being as cute as it is.

“What—“ Eddie begins with a strained voice before clearing it and starting over. “What do you mean by that?”

His laughing dislodged Eddie’s hands from his face, so Steve takes the opportunity to mirror the gesture on the metalhead before him. His hands cup squishy and faintly freckled cheeks, thumbs framing his cheekbones and fingers cradling the back of his head. Warmth radiates throughout his palms and up his arms, forming a gooey smile he’s sure looks as lovesick as he feels.

Huh. Lovesick. That’s new. Wait—

Holy shit he’s in love with Eddie Munson.

The realization is not as profound as he’d thought it would be. It’s a gentle understanding, one that washes over him like warm bath water. He knew deep down that he was in love, but the label was never placed upon his feelings. But they were there, and had been for far longer than he realized.

They were there when he stumbled down the steps of the Creel house in the Upside Down, world tilting on its axis as the ground shook. There was screeching all around him, sounds of otherworldly monsters calling out in anger or fear, he didn’t know. Didn’t really care. All he cared about was getting out of that hell, getting topside with everyone still intact.

Then he heard the screaming. The crying. The call for help.

He didn’t wait for Robin or Nancy to follow him, taking off as fast as he could to where Eddie and Dustin were. He didn’t know what to expect, didn’t want to think about the endless things he could find once he entered the trailer park. Didn’t want to think about Dustin or Eddie hurt, about them bleeding out or dy—

No. No, they were fine. They were fine. They had to be.

…Right?

He stumbled up to Eddie’s trailer but there was no sign of them. He looked around, confused and panicked, to find two bodies amongst a mass of withering wings. Time felt like it slowed, like the world had been put on pause. He doesn’t remember the walk over to them, only that he was repeating the mantra of ‘don’t let it be Dustin’ over and over again. But it wasn’t Dustin. It was Eddie.

It was Eddie with the same bites he himself had, except deeper and torn. It was Eddie covered in blood and the ripped remnants of his shirt with tears rolling down his cheeks. It was Eddie lying there motionless, entirely still save for the faint jostling as Dustin sobbed over him. It was Eddie dead. It was—

Eddie’s dead. He’s dead. He—

No. No, no, no, he can’t be dead. He can’t.

There’s too many things he wants—no, needs—to say. He needs to tell him that his crooked smile makes his knees weak. He needs to tell him that he wants to run his fingers through his wild, unruly hair. He needs to tell him that he wants to kiss those soft lips. He needs to tell him he’s felt this way for far too long already. He needs, he needs, he needs.

Afterwards was a blur of desperation, like his body knew it had to do anything it could to save the man before him. He remembers doing CPR, remembers the sickening crunch of bone as ribs snapped that made him want to puke. He remembers leaning over Eddie, watching as his figure distorted with unshed tears, and praying to a god he doesn’t believe in. He remembers watching his tears fall on Eddie’s face and roll down his cheek, leaving clean streaks through the blood splattered there. He remembers leaning down and pressing an ear to his chest.

He remembers the overwhelming amount of pure relief he felt when Eddie started breathing again. He remembers the pained groan Eddie let out as Steve picked him up and carried him out. He remembers that Eddie’s alive.

His feelings were there as he sat in the hospital waiting room bouncing his knee and staring at the doors Eddie disappeared behind. Dustin had been taken back a few minutes earlier to get his leg looked at but all Steve could think about was Eddie.

Was he still alive? Had they managed to stop the bleeding? Were his wounds infected? Did they have to intubate or was he strong enough to breath on his own? Was he awake? Was he in pain? Will he—

“Mr. Harrington, will you come with me please?” A short nurse called from the double doors that led into the hallway. His head snapped up to her, eyes wide like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He looked over at Robin, taking in the way she was chewing on her fingernails and nervously glancing around. He patted her knee before he stood up, wincing when the movement pulled at his wounds. He hadn’t had them looked at yet, deciding to let everyone else go first. His wounds weren’t that bad anyway, he got lucky.

He doesn’t feel like he did, really.

As he walked up to her, he could feel her eyes on him. Could feel her scanning him. Assessing him. It made him nervous. But then she smiled that polite nurse smile and it eased just a little bit.

“Mr. Harrington, are you here for Mr. Munson?”

“Uh, yes, ma’am,” he answered, even though he’s sure she knew who he was here for. When he busted through the emergency room doors with Eddie’s body in his arms, they refused to see him. Said they didn’t want to treat a murderer. Admittedly, what Steve did wasn’t inherently right but having the Harrington name pays off sometimes. Especially when your family is one of the main funders for the hospital.

“I can’t tell you much since you’re not legally related, but I will say that he is currently stable. Unfortunately, that’s the extent of the information I’m allowed to give you,” she informed, a sad look in her eyes. “Is there anyone we can contact who is related to Mr. Munson?”

“His uh… his uncle, Wayne Munson,” Steve supplied. “He works at the local plant if that’s any help.”

He really wished it would.

“Thank you, we’ll start trying to locate him,” she responded. “Meanwhile, I think you should have that looked at.”

Steve followed her gaze to where his wounds were, noticing that they had started bleeding again. The makeshift bandage Nancy had fastened was loose from hauling Eddie, and he’s surprised no one told him to see to it sooner.

He grimaces as he looks at her, the pain flooding back to the surface once he realized it had yet to be taken care of, and nods. “Yeah, I think uh… I think you’re right.”

As soon as he walked back out to the waiting room after he was patched up, the emergency doors burst open to reveal a middle-aged man. He was gray-headed and slightly balding, wearing an old flannel and dirty jeans as he bee-lined for the reception desk. There was no doubt that this was Wayne Munson; he had Eddie’s eyes.

The nurse at the desk was talking to him, and every word seemed to suck more of the life from Wayne’s eyes. She pointed to Steve, and he felt frozen as Wayne looked over at him. He managed a smile and a small wave, but then Wayne was walking over to him and his stomach dropped.

“The lady said you brought my boy in?” Wayne asked, but his question was more of a statement than anything. It made Steve nervous to have the man look at him expectantly, like he had answers. Like he had something to do with Eddie being where he is now. In a way, he does.

“Yes, sir, I did. We were together when the… when the earthquake hit,” he supplies, forgetting what the cover story was halfway through. He gestured to the rest of the Party sitting in the room, half of them asleep and slumped over while the rest were wound tight and pacing. “The doctors didn’t wanna see him when we got here.”

“She said you were a Harrington,” Wayne stated. His eyes were cold and hard, face giving away nothing. It made Steve’s blood freeze. His name carries a lot of weight, yes, but it’s not the good kind. People hear his name and sneer. They think of all the rich, posh assholes he’s still neighbors with. They think of his parents with their vacations and mansions and money they throw at problems to make them go away, including Steve. No one thinks the Harringtons are good people, and Wayne seems to feel the same.

“By birth, yes, but respectfully, the Harringtons can go fuck themselves.”

It brings a surprised huff out of the older man, some warmth flooding back into his eyes at Steve’s blunt remark. He puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly in a way that makes Steve think Wayne almost wants to hug him.

“Thank you for saving my boy…?” Wayne trailed off, raising an eyebrow and waiting. It took an embarrassingly long moment for him to realize what he wanted.

“Uh, Steve, sir. It’s Steve.”

“Steve,” Wayne finished. He gave what Steve thinks was an approximation of a smile, squeezing his shoulder once more before removing his hand. “You’re a good kid, Steve. Think you could do my boy some good if ya stick around.”

The sentiment made Steve smile a little. “If he’ll let me, I’ll stay as long as he’d like.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any problem with that, Steve,” Wayne answered mysteriously before he disappeared behind the double doors leading to the hallway, presumedly to find Eddie. Steve watched him go, watched the doors close behind his retreating back. He sighed before sitting down beside Robin, leaning his head on her shoulder and waited.

Now, he’s tired of waiting.

“It means, Eds, that I should’ve kissed you sooner,” Steve confesses, relishing in the second squeak Eddie lets out. “I should’ve kissed you in the woods in the Upside Down after you helped fight off the demobats, and again in the RV after you called me ‘big boy’—which I did like, by the way.

“I should’ve kissed you when you said to make Vecna pay, and again when you were bleeding out in my arms, and again when you woke up in the hospital because, Eds, I was so goddamn happy you were alive.

“I should’ve kissed you when I picked up the kids from their first Hellfire meeting after spring break from Hell, after they all bounded out of the trailer like puppies high on adrenaline and talking a mile a minute. You had come out with a huge smile on your face as you watched them from the front porch, arms crossed and leaning against the railing. I remember they wanted to tell me about the new villain you had come up with and you had told them to ‘give your mother some space, she’s had a long day’. Ever since then I’ve been ‘mom’, thanks to you,” Steve recalls, smiling at the memory rolling his eyes at both Eddie’s and the kid’s antics.

“I should’ve kissed you all those times you came into Family Video. Should’ve dragged you in the break room and kissed you senseless until Robin banged on the door,” Steve finishes. During his rant, a grin steadily grew on Eddie’s face, fully displaying his dimples. Steve finally gives into temptation and traces them with his thumb, easily finding the subtle divot and grazing over it gently.

“Sounds like we have a lot of time to make up for,” Eddie all but whispers, voice raspy and petal-soft. His eyes are fixated on Steve’s lips, and he can’t help but dart his tongue out to wet them to watch the way Eddie tracks the movement. Steve smiles and leans in a little.

“We do,” he agrees before using his grip to pull Eddie into a kiss. Their mouths slot together like they were always meant to, lips meeting in the middle and eyes softly closing.

Kissing Eddie Munson is like nothing he’d ever imagined. Eddie is a whirlwind, loud and brash with an attitude and sass for days. Steve thought he would kiss like he acts, thought it would be rough and all-consuming but this… this kiss is sweet. Just like how Eddie really is underneath everything else.

It’s slow and deliberate, like Eddie is trying to savor it as much as he can. Steve can’t deny that he is too, that he’s committing every second of this to memory and filing it away in the open box with Eddie’s name on it in his mind.

There’s a thrum under his skin, a growing electricity that bubbles and pops beneath his lips. It’s been years since he felt it, that intensity of a good kiss with the right person. He wants to chase it, wants it to consume him wholly until all he can feel is the zing of Eddie’s skin touching his.

Steve pulls him closer with the grip on his hair, opening his mouth slightly wider and delighting in the way Eddie’s tongue sneaks in to trace the line of his teeth. He smiles into the kiss, and Eddie does too, until they’re less than kissing and more like breathing each other in. Eddie giggles against his lips and Steve soon follows, their laughter growing until tears spring in their eyes.

Steve is the first to compose himself, dropping his arms to rest around the others shoulders and taking a breath before resting his forehead against Eddie’s. He can’t wipe the smile off his face and could never find reason enough to want to. He’s finally here, sitting in Eddie’s lap and being held like he matters.

“We’re idiots,” he murmurs, going cross-eyed as he tries to look in Eddie’s eyes. He smiles when Eddie tries to look back, going cross-eyed as well. He feels Eddie nod against him in agreement. “Total morons.”

Steve giggles at the blunt statement, closing his eyes and relishing in the fact that he has this now. This beautiful person who he can kiss and laugh and cry with and feel safe in a way he hasn’t felt in years. Robin is a saint, yes, but she—

He cuts his thoughts off with a groan as a realization washes over him, dropping his head to Eddie’s shoulder. He feels more than hears Eddie chuckle underneath him and smiles when he feels arms come up to wrap around his waist.

“What’s wrong, Stevie?” Eddie asks softly. Steve groans again for good measure, making sure to up the dramatics as much as possible.

“Robin’s gonna be so pissed at me,” he supplies.

Eddie hums underneath him. “Why’s that?”

Steve lifts his head to look at him, a cheeky smile on his face. “‘Cause I got a boyfriend first.”

It’s a half-truth, Steve deciding to play it safe in case Eddie doesn’t know. No relationship is worth outing a platonic soulmate, that much he does know.

Whether he knows or not, Eddie doesn’t show. Instead, a grin overtakes his face as a blush settles high on his cheeks. Eddie pulls back a little to get a good look at his face, eyes searching for something. “Do you mean it?”

“I’d want it more than anything in the world, Eds,” he murmurs, fingers lacing behind his neck and thumb brushing the tiny curly hairs found there.

Eddie takes a breath under him, shoulders rising with the action. Before Steve knows it, he’s being thrown off his very warm and very comfortable lap to flop against the stiff couch cushions. He’s about to protest, to ask what the hell that was for, but the sight before him makes the words die in his throat.

Eddie’s honest to god dancing around his living room, wagging his tight little ass around while fist-pumping the air. His hair bounces around and falls in his face, but nothing can obscure the blinding smile there. His dimples are on full display once again, and Steve finds that he could get used to seeing them everyday.

Steve laughs at his antics, which now include miming an incredibly complicated air guitar solo and head banging to imaginary music. This. This is the total dork of a man he managed to fall for. The thought makes him smile and watch his boy.

His boy. He likes the sound of that.

Next thing he knows, Eddie’s tackling him into the couch. Knees land on either side of his thighs and hands push his shoulders into the cushions before resting just above them. His hair tie has fallen out, causing a curtain of hair to block off anything other than Eddie’s face and making it seem like it’s only the two of them in the whole world.

Kisses are pressed to his face; both of his cheeks, the middle of his forehead, the tip of his nose, and all too briefly, his mouth. Eddie pulls back just so, the tips of their noses brushing.

“I would love to be your boyfriend,” he says through a smile.

Steve huffs a laugh, smiling at the man above him. “I kinda got that from the whole dance routine, Eds. Been practicing much?”

“Shut up,” Eddie groans while blushing, dropping his head so the curtain of hair hides him.

Steve tucks a chunk of hair behind Eddie’s ear. “Make me.”

Eddie looks up at him through his lashes, giving him a wolfish grin that briefly makes his stomach drop and tingles spread out over his skin. The other man leans down, flickering his eyes between Steve’s and his lips before kissing him.

This one is filled with warmth, so much so it reminds him of Joyce’s kitchen at the barbecue yet far more intense. It fills him with something akin to a warm summer morning, where dewdrops still grace the blades of grass and the sun makes them twinkle in the growing light.

It takes a second for him to realize that the feeling is happiness, that kissing Eddie makes him happy. It’s enough to make him almost start tearing up again, as he had resigned himself to never feeling this way again. He only hopes Eddie doesn’t—

Eddie notices. Of course he does, he notices almost everything—almost being a big word here. He pulls away, leaning on one elbow in order to prop himself up while the other hand finds its way to Steve’s cheek. His brows are furrowed, forming that little worry line between them as he looks down at him.

“Stevie, what’s wrong?” Eddie questions but Steve just shakes his head.

“Nothing’s wrong, Eds, promise.”

Those words grant him a look, one that says the other doesn’t believe him, and Steve rolls his eyes because really, he’s fine. The affronted look on Eddie’s face causes him to laugh wetly, making him realize he must be closer to crying than he initially thought.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just…” he pauses to sniffle. “I just realized something.”

“What is it?” Eddie asks before wiping a tear away from the corner of Steve’s eye with his thumb. The action makes him smile, a juxtaposition to his crying.

“I’m happy,” he confesses. “I’m genuinely fucking happy for the first time in ages and this,” he pauses and grabs Eddie’s face gently, barely cradling his jaw in his hands. “You make me happy.”

He watches Eddie go soft, his tense posture from worrying going slack. His big brown eyes fill with pure love as he leans in again, kissing Steve. That’s what the third kiss feels like; love.

It feels like coming home after a long day and cuddling on the couch, sharing lazy kisses while watching trashy TV and eating shitty fast food. It feels like dancing in the kitchen to a song on the radio, singing the lyrics to one another without a care in the world if it sounds bad. It feels like holding each other in the night, soothing away nightmares with gentle touches and soft kisses and kind words.

Steve sighs into the kiss, opening up and deepening it just a little before dragging Eddie down on top of him. Eddie squawks and flops on him, his body weight grounding Steve and making him feel present, real. He huffs, the air tickling Steve’s throat where his head landed, causing Steve to roll his eyes at his antics while pulling the blanket on the back of the couch over the both of them.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just said so,” Eddie mumbles, voice muffled from both the blanket and his position over Steve. Steve only smiles, a hand finding Eddie’s hair to idly play with it.

“What’s the fun in that?” He counters. He feels Eddie shrug before shuffling around to get more comfortable, ending up curled on his chest with an arm wrapped tight around his waist.

Steve kisses the top of Eddie’s head before settling down himself, closing his eyes and listening to the steady breathing of the other man paired with the thu-thump of his heart. As he does so, he thinks that maybe he’s not as alone as he’d thought. That maybe, just maybe, he really is cut out for love.

———

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#steddie #stranger things #disposable heroes #eddie munson #steve harrington #disposable heroes mcir #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #we finally get steve and eddie talking to each other yall #everything gets resolved!#happy endings!!

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