#genderqueer eddie munson

[formosusiniquis]

sandra bullock eat your heart out

inspired by this post and the tags by @stevieharringtonwifeguy

Without putting too fine a point on it, Eddie wasn't exactly the type to watch beauty pageants. They didn’t really think about them, didn’t really care about them, didn’t really realize they were even still a thing outside of sitcom plotlines from the 90s about women’s self image. What Eddie was was extremely online. And when Twitter went fucking batshit because a plus sized transwoman had the nerve to be talented enough to make it to the Miss America competition; they figured they should support the home team -- or whatever shit Wayne says when the wrong horse boys makes it to the big football game.

So sure, they expected her to be pretty. It is in the name. Imagined she’d be good looking in that classic, sort of boring way. A blonde with a nice smile, a fucking button nose. A non-threatening, homegrown sort of beauty. It being the internet complaining, they kinda also figured plus size meant a size 2 dress and a C cup. 

They couldn't in their wildest dreams picture the woman who would appear on their TV, when they finally figured out where they could even watch the damn thing. Statuesque with a squared jaw and swimmers shoulders, moles dot her face and neck, it looks like her nose has been broken before. Plush thighs and a biteable ass fill out a royal blue evening gown, when she smiles it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

Alone in their apartment, Eddie has no one to scream the thoughts ricocheting in their brain at. It leaves them with nowhere to turn but the place that got them here to begin with.

The Eddie Munson ✔ @CorrodedEddie

I'm used to people having bad taste but at this point I'm wondering if we're even watching the same thing

The Eddie Munson ✔ @CorrodedEddie

Miss Indiana is the most beautiful woman I've ever seenThe Eddie Munson ✔ @CorrodedEddie

How do I do the added context thing, i need to make a note on some posts. Reader’s noted: User is actually a sad loser who’s cockroach wifed themselves and can’t appreciate what’s in front of them

Read the rest on AO3 cause this baby has formatting

[stobinesque]

let me be the void you fill, pt. 1

@steddie-week day 4: familiar | ~2k words | Teen and up title from "I / Me / Myself" by Will Wood

On his way up the path to the small hut he’d gotten Dustin to draw a crude map to, Steve was stopped in his tracks by a lanky black cat that appeared out of nowhere—and then promptly proceeded to wind her way between his legs.

"Well hello there," he said, bending down to extend his hand towards her nose. 

The cat gave his fingers one short, decisive sniff, before bumping her head against them, and resuming her circuitous turn betwixt his ankles.

Steve laughed. "So you mean to hold me hostage, then, is that it?" 

The cat paused to look up at him, features set into what Steve guessed would be a look of utter disdain on a human.

"Okay, okay, bad joke, huh?" The cat slipped out from under his feet just long enough for Steve to crouch all the way down and present his palm to her again. The cat purred this time, and nudged her head up against his palm more firmly, staying still long enough to allow him to pet the top of her head, and scratch behind her ears. "I'm Steve," he offered. "And what's your name, pretty girl?"

"Miriam? Miriam! Where did you run off—oh."

Steve startled at the sudden sound, and glanced up from where the cat was now enthusiastically petting herself against him, to find a witch of about his own height rushing out the hut’s front door. They sported a head full of riotous brown curls, atop which sat a stout, felted witch's hat. In spite of the unseasonable heat, the theurgist was dressed in heavy, ruffled black skirts, and colorfully patched stockings. That had to be why their cheeks were flushed such a pretty shade of pink, right?

Steve pulled himself back up to a standing position, shaking his head as though to clear it of cobwebs. He snapped his mouth shut when he realized it had dropped open of its own accord, and glanced back down at the cat, now rubbing herself up against one leg. "So your name is Miriam?" he asked her.

The cat let out a small merp in reply, as her owner—companion?—continued to stand and stare at Steve from a few steps up the path.

🐈‍⬛🪄🔮✨🌕🧹🧙

Eddie's day had begun with a series of inauspicious events.

To start with, she had forgotten to leave fir curtains parted in just the right way before bed the night before. So instead of gradually rising with the sun as it crept in on hazy bands of light, fee'd been slapped in the face by the full force of its rays at entirely too early an hour.

And then, when she'd gone out to fetch the laundry, it was to find every single article of clothing still damp—or worse—in spite of the unusually dry heat they’d been having. That left fir with only a pair of (thankfully) threadbare, but (unfortunately) black woolen stockings, a black linen smock, and a set ruffled skirts—of which the relative breeze allowed by its shortened length at the front, was offset by the sheer quantity of its layers—to wear for the day. (The stockings, he supposed, could have been forgotten. But Eddie found themself wandering through thistle paths far too often, and unexpectedly, to not wear something on her legs every day.)

To make matters worse, the moment Miriam’d heard Eddie knocking about, she'd gone ahead and toppled over one of the cauldrons, in a way that signified today was to be a potion-making day. 

Great, so I'm going to be a puddle by midday.

Most days, Eddie could choose the direction of fir practice. But sometimes, for one reason or another—a particular rhyme of the chimes hanging in zir window, the moon hanging low and large and bloody in the night sky, a particular scent in the air—the animus of the world nudged her in a particular direction.

Those days, invariably, sucked.

But still, Eddie bustled around the small cottage—grabbing roots, and herbs, and carefully preserved insect matter—preparing for the day's task. The draught that Eddie felt fumself pushed to brew today was technically complicated, time consuming, and required the assistance of another set of hands. 

Which would be fine. If his familiar hadn't scampered off moments after knocking over the cauldron that morning.

Eddie searched high and low, and into every nook and cranny of the cramped hut—which did not want for hiding places, despite its small footprint—for his erstwhile familiar. Eventually, he had to admit defeat, and determined that she must have gone for a laze about the garden beds—even though she knew full well that they were off limits.

"Miriam?" Eddie called out as he pushed his way outside. Usually the one call was enough to have her trotting back home immediately, shame-faced and caught out. But in keeping with the day’s pattern, nothing was to be so easy. "Miriam!" Eddie called again, growing a touch frustrated. "Where did you run off t—oh." 

Eddie came to an abrupt halt just a few steps up the path from their hut, shocked still by the sight of Miriam letting someone other than themself touch her. And it wasn't just any someone. It was perhaps the most gorgeous someone Eddie had ever laid eyes on: soft brown hair that glinted gold in the sunlight, pretty pink lips rounded into a perfectly round 'O' that just begged to have something shoved between them, and…and Eddie really needed to reign in the excesses of hir thoughts. 

The honey-haired visitor straightened to a standing position and looked down at Miriam with a sweet smile on their face. "So your name is Miriam?" he asked, receiving a soft chirp of confirmation from Miriam in reply. It brought Eddie up short—most strangers didn’t address Miriam directly. Who was this person? Eddie shook his head, honing in on the most mysterious part of the tableau in front of him.

"She's letting you pet her," he marveled. "I think the last person who tried nearly got his arm chewed off for the trouble." Eddie tilted her head and looked the stranger up and down in a way that he knew would be taken for the blatant assessment it was. "She must like you." And Eddie knew that if Miriam trusted someone, then if nothing else, he should trust her—but, well: see above, re: day of inauspicious beginnings. "So what's your name, stranger?" He added just a touch of suspicion to his tone.

"Steve," came the swift reply, immediately followed with an outstretched hand, in spite of the several paces of distance still separating the two of them. "Of the town of Haring," Steve continued. As he spoke, Miriam came slinking back towards Eddie, and settled into a seated position between his feet, gaze fixed intensely at Steve.

"Okay, Steve of Haring." Eddie propped a hand on one hip, still trying to figure out what to make of this visitor. Everything about his day up ‘til now suggested there was something more going on here than met the eye. Even Miriam seemed to think so, if the way she was staring fixedly at Steve’s chest was anything to go by. But Miriam was also clearly fond of this stranger, after only moments of interaction. So there was probably nothing to fear from Steve themself, and, oh, he really needed to confirm how he should be constructing his internal narration regarding this creature— "So how else do you like to be referred to, Steve?"

"Huh?" Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well, I can't very well keep going around calling you 'the stranger' in my head now, can I?"

Steve shrugged. "You could just think of me as ‘Steve,’" Steve said with an adorable little head tilt. 

"This is true, but it does get repetitive after a while. Which, of course, is alright, if that’s what you prefer. But I usually find that a pronoun or two often helps things along."

"Oh!" Steve snapped their fingers and pointed at Eddie with excitement at their sudden understanding. "You can use ‘he’ and ‘him’ and stuff to think and talk about me. That's what everyone else does."

"And…is that what you want everyone else to do?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't really care, I suppose. It's just…easier this way."

Eddie frowned. "And you don't think that's boring? Why limit yourself to the confines of expectation if it doesn't make you happy?"

Steve blew a gust of air between his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess you could say that's part of why I'm here, really."

Eddie raised a brow. "Oh?"

Steve waved a hand as though to bat the matter away as unimportant. "Yeah, but we're getting ahead of ourselves." Steve crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Eddie with an interest all his own. "How should I be thinking about you?"

Eddie flipped a lock of hair over one shoulder, and tossed zir sauciest smile Steve's way. "You can think of me any way you like, handsome."

The bright pink flush that swept across Steve's face—and the awkward stammering that followed—were truly the highlight of Eddie's day thus far. (Unfortunately, that was an embarrassingly low bar to clear—but, on the other hand, Steve's blush-and-stammer combo had just set it at a lifetime high. Ah, Life and Her various vagaries.)

"That's not what I meant "

"Oh I know, stranger. But that is the answer to what you did mean, anyhow, so it didn't seem prudent to pass up such a delicious opportunity to be a shameless flirt."

Steve wrinkled his nose. "Charming."

"Why yes, that is one of the things you could call me," Eddie shot back with an impish grin. 

Steve laughed. "You're a bit of an asshole, aren't you?"

"I've been called worse," fee replied with a small shrug. "...and a lot better," she added with an exaggerated wink.

"Okay, but, really, how should I—? What should I—?"

Eddie waved a dismissive hand of their own. "Think of—and refer to—me however you like: he, them, hers, zir," Eddie shrugged. "It's all the same to me. Though I must confess I've grown partial to ‘fee, fi, fo, fum’."

The bright, bursting bubble of a giggle this provoked could have fueled Eddie's strongest cheering charm. "You can't be serious!"

"Deadly so, I'm afraid. Although in practice it’s more like ‘fee, fum, fir, fos’."  

"Hmmm, okay. I like it." Steve reached up to tuck his hair back behind both ears at once. "What about your name?"

"What of it, pretty boy?" Eddie asked, just to see the rosy blush spread across the apples of Steve's cheeks again.

"Could I have it?"

"Could you have it? What, to keep? Are you a faerie, Steve? If you're a faerie you have to tell me, or else it's entrapment."

"No, I'm not a faerie. But I'm also pretty sure that's not how any of that works."

"That sounds exactly like something a faerie would say," Eddie shot back, jabbing an accusatory finger Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head, but there was a delighted grin on his face and a soft chuckle rising from his throat. "I just want to stop having to cycle through various iterations of 'hot witch,' in my own thoughts," he admitted.

"Oooh, well now I'm curious—how dirty and creative did you get there?"

Steve's smile shifted into something more like a smirk. "Mmm…'beddable horror specks'?"  

Eddie threw his head back in a wild laugh that sent fir hat flying. "I think you mean haruspex—which isn't accurate, anyway; I prefer not to go around reading rabbit entrails—but that was good!"

"And?" Steve asked with a wheedling-but-cheery, sort of tone. "Could I get a name in reward? Something to call you by, in the heat of the moment?"

"Well, I must confess that now I'm even more curious about what you’d come up with if left to your own devices—but I suppose if you must have something to scream into the rafters while I ravish you: Eddie, son and/or daughter and/or corrupted offspring of the Moon, at your service." Hat no longer on her head to tip in Steve direction, Eddie instead swept down into a low bow, one arm extended out toward Steve in invitation.

stay tuned for part two tomorrow!

[bipunkharrington]

Steddie is he/they(4)she/they love and I am not taking comments or questions thank you

[calcium-makes-ur-bones-strong]

he/she Eddie Munson is a thing that can be so canon

[dustysofa]

Robin throws Steve a little birthday party at family video, and Eddie is the only one who leaves his present for later.

A new little oneshot! kinda just indulgent fluff tbh (rated T! the summary was accidentally suggestive)

[rogueddie]

Steve should wear Barbie's disco jumpsuit outfit from the Barbie movie. And I mean the whole outfit, including the wig.

Like, he's going to a drag show with Robin and she convinces him to dress up, promising him that it'll be fun and they can laugh about it later if it isn't.

And Steve realizes that he loves dressing up like that, loves the persona he accidentally made up for it. But he especially loves that he can go home, put on his polos and still be seen as a man- that it doesn't make him feel less like a man.

It makes it almost too easy to then go on to accept his bisexuality- especially when it's because of Eddie Munson, seeing him dressed up and asking him "what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?"

At first, it's just something they can use as a way to date in public. Maybe someone tries to pull Steve aside and ask who the girl he saw Eddie with is and how the hell did Munson get such a smokeshow?

And Steve still feels like a man. He's got no doubt about that. But he kinda feels like the drag isn't an act either. Like maybe he is a girl, too. And he doesn't have time to verbalize his doubts, because Eddie is immediately like "that's ok, you can be both, just let me know if I can do anything to help bc I love the person that you are."

[wrayofmoonshine]

whatever you do, don’t imagine eddie doing a running jump at steve’s back while he’s trying to talk to someone, and steve catching him in a piggyback without even breaking away from the conversation. then eddie starts to attack his neck with little nibbles while going “BITING you BITING you BITING you BITING you” over and over again until steve turns his head just enough to catch his lips with his own so eddie gets stopped mid sentence like “BITING you BIT—oh! kissing you! :D”

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve and Eddie lay on the floor of Steve’s living room, staring at the ceiling fan as it moved on the lowest setting. They were both equally high, floating together like they were laying on clouds.

"Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?" Steve asked.

"Anything, man," Eddie said.

"I like more than one thing," Steve said. "So much more."

"More than one thing of what?" Eddie asked.

"You know how some people like one thing and the opposite thing, but some people like one thing and the opposite thing," Steve said. "I like more than one thing, you know?"

"Like some people like Star Wars and some people like Star Trek, then there are people who say it's the same thing," Eddie said. "Which is bullshit. Some people like both of them, like me."

"You like Star Wars and Star Trek?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, problem?" Eddie asked.

"Nah, man, I'm friends with other nerds," Steve said. "I also like Star Trek and Star Wars. I also like basketball. I like so many things. Is that weird?"

"Nah, man. I don't have a problem with basketball, not anymore," Eddie said. "There's just so many things out there to like, you know. Gotta keep my mind open."

"I think there's a word for what we are. I just can't think of what is," Steve said. "My head is so foggy."

"Yeah, I think your ceiling fan just turned into a helicopter, man," Eddie said.

"Oh, man. I do not want a helicopter in my living room," Steve said.

"You're right. It is better that we're both sober," Vickie said.

Vickie and Robin were sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them.

"Told you, highly entertaining," Robin said. "Don't worry, once they sober, they'll remember that they're boyfriends and that this is the fifth time they're coming out to each other."

"Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something else?" Steve asked.

"Yeah."

"Like sometimes, I don't feel like a man. Sometimes, I feel like a woman, but other days, I also feel like a man, and like other days, I don't feel like a man or a woman," Steve said. "Is that crazy?"

"Nah."

"Okay. Okay. We are encroaching on a territory I didn't know existed," Robin said with wide eyes.

"What do we do? Do we pretend like we didn't hear that?" Vickie asked.

"I mean, I think so. I don't know," Robin said. "Yeah, I think so. He's got to be the one to come to us on his own with that like he came out as bisexual. So, yeah, I think we just forget."

The next morning. . .

Robin walked downstairs and into her friend's kitchen. He was standing at the counter, drinking coffee. Robin stared at him, her heart full of affection and love for her platonic soulmate.

"Good morning, Robin," Steve said.

"It certainly is, good that is," Robin said, her eyes filling with proud tears.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

Robin sobbed and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly.

"I love you, no matter what shape you come in," Robin said.

"Uh, okay?" Steve asked. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Like if you ever decided to become. . . Astronaut shaped, I think it would be cool. Stars are beautiful, you know, and it's a beautiful thing because we're all made of stardust. And if even if you didn't want to be an astronaut, it would still be beautiful stardust," Robin rambled.

"Robin. . .did you wait until this morning to smoke weed? Why didn't you smoke with us last night?" Steve asked.

"I wanted to see what you and Eddie talked about when you guys were high," Robin said.

"And?" He asked.

"So many wonderful things," Robin sniffled. "I'm so proud of you, and just so you know, I'll support whatever decision you make."

"What if I decide to shave all my hair off?" Steve asked.

"Even then, I'll still love you," Robin said.

"Even my eyebrows?"

"I still love you. . . Dingus."

Robin kissed his forehead and skipped back upstairs to Vickie, leaving Steve with the same wave of affection that hit her just moments ago.

[findafight]

Okay I kept thinking about this post and Steve being a BNF of Corroded Coffin message board of the internet of yore.

Alright so way back in the nineties Suzie hooks everyone up with the internet, yes? Yes. Eddie and Steve got together in '92 after some mutual pining and a few disastrous relationships that couldn't handle 1) Steve and Robin's general QPR clinginess 2) Eddie's intensity 3) the secrecy required if having multiple years of monster fighting and subsequent NDAs and the trauma associated therein. They're older and more settled and ready for an Adult Relationship.

Corroded Coffin is gaining traction and doing really well and the internet is still a brave new frontier, so Steve says to Eddie something like "I'm going to see if there's some message boards about you 🥰" and find them he sure does. So he makes accounts and posts under the username EddiesOnlyGroupie because he's hilarious and also the mods banned him from using EddieMunsonsHusband (he figured it was fine on the internet because nobody actually knew who he was but APPARENTLY NOT homophobia lives on in the digital age). He gets pretty well known in the Corroded Coffin fandom, most assuming he's a woman because he will go off on how hot Eddie looked at a gig. Like. Saying unhinged internet shit because 1) true and 2) he and Eddie think it's so funny. Everyone kinda believes the groupie thing too because of all the performance pics he's able to post and how he'll sometimes offer tidbits if knowledge about the band.

When they transition from chatrooms to livejournal etc he follows, with the same username. He's kind of a legend by the mid aughts. EOG is the acronym people use when discussing theories on his identity, and he's like "guys I'm literally his only groupie it's self explanatory. Guys why don't you believe me Eddie hasn't slept with anyone but me since 1992. We're basically married". He goes "it's not a mystery we literally are in love and Jeff and I go to Cubs games and cry when they inevitably lose together. Gareth is Godfather to my cats" (Eddie is still offended that he was not named Sassafras and Moonshine's godfather when Steve and Robin adopted them in '89). No one believes him.

Possibly because he still thirsts after Eddie and whenever someone posts a new Eddie pic those in the know wait for him to pop up with comments like "I want to bite his neck omg" "he has no ass but nobody is perfect I'll settle between his thighs anyway" and "literally a crime I am not married to him right now what the fuck" As twitter grows he swoops in to grab his handle, and follows a bunch of other CC fan accounts (some of them old friends, some of them new to the scene)(EOG 100% has his own fanlore page, which also has speculation on who he is and how he gets all the bts pics. It also doesn't believe when he says what it says on the tin. He's Eddie's only groupie.)

tumblr and tiktok come round and Steve is like. Openly horny on main. He's seen some shit go down on the internet but he's still commenting on Eddie fan edits that are title shit like "why am I attracted to this middle-aged white man" and "retro cc fancam" with things like "I'd let him lick the inside of my ear and only bring it up to tease him on special occasions" "his FINGERS" "back in '89 Jeff and Howie and Claire staged a mutany over this song because they were 'sick of Eddie only writing about biting bats' lmao" and "Jeff is my favourite member of cc"(just to stir the pot)

Eddie comes out in the 2010's and he's like "yeah I've been in a long term relationship with someone who is usually mostly a man kinda (gender is fucky) for the past twenty years, lol. His name's Steve. I love him a lot even if he mocks me online." and of course EOG comments "the mods of that old message board should have let me keep my original handle of EddieMunsonsHusband. When're you gonna make it reality, Munson? smh" and everyone is like Huh?? EOG is a MAN? And he's like yeah? Sometimes?? Not always?

(He 100% thinks this is him telling people he's Eddie's Steve. They don't get the message)

Anyways life goes on Steve continues to thirst under pictures of Eddie, he has his pronouns and name in his bio on twitter (Steve, he/him, she/her, Eddie Munson's first and only groupie 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ ) and continues to post behind the scenes photos that shockingly few people question (she always says "because I'm his groupie" though. He and Eddie think this is VERY funny and also true. Robin groans. They've been making the same joke for two decades.) and people believe it because Eddie has interacted EOG sometimes, liking photos or videos, commenting sometimes. (Steve has a more professional realname account that he rarely uses but Eddie usually tags Steve there)

And THEN Internet user EddiesOnlyGroupie says he's taking a few weeks off for her honeymoon because "I'm finally marrying the man of my dreams!" And people are happy for him but also bummed because Eddie is also taking a two week hiatus but EOG promises wedding and honeymoon photos. (Face reveal! Sorta!)((he doesn't get why people are excited because he's pretty sure he's been in a lot of Eddie's recent pictures, but whatever)

Imagine the Internet's surprise when Eddie Munson posts a collection of pictures spanning '86 to his 2016 wedding of him and Steve, including one of Steve looking seriously at an old desktop computer, captioned "Steve starting his internet career" and tags EOG.

Steve qrt with "I told yall. I'm his only groupie, and they should've let me keep EddieMunsonsHusband even if they WERE homophobic. Because now it's TRUE"

Niche internet community drama chaos ensues.

[munsonkitten]

“Can I tell you something?” Steve whispers, tugging Eddie in closer to his body.

Eddie hums in response, nuzzling his face into Steve’s neck. “Sure, baby.”

“You know how we got you out of the Upside Down and brought you back here?” Steve asks. He rubs his hands up and down Eddie’s back, and continues without waiting for an answer. “I carried you up to the bathtub in my parents’ bathroom, got your pants off, and you were covered in so much blood, and I was already fighting off an infection myself, so I wasn’t all there, and I honestly… Man, I honestly thought the bats ate your dick and that I’d have to break the news.”

Eddie snorts, a quiet laugh pressed to Steve’s skin.

“Then you said to me, and you were half-conscious and kind of delirious, you said ‘if you wanna look at my pussy, at least buy me dinner first,’” Steve whispers. “Figured maybe it was fine, then.”

“Wait,” Eddie says, pulling back. “Is that why you always brought food when you started coming over?”

Steve laughs, then shakes his head. Quietly, he answers, “Nah, man, that was because you lost like forty pounds from not eating.”

“Well, that’s not as fun,” Eddie huffs. “Can we pretend you’ve just been trying to catch a glimpse ever since?”

“Sure,” Steve whispers. “I mean, not that I wasn’t trying to catch another glimpse, I mean that much is pretty obvious at this point, but, nah. I was just worried you weren’t eating enough.”

Eddie hums again and rolls over onto his back. “I don’t remember much. Being here, I mean. I just… I mean, I have bits and pieces, but then I remember waking up in the hospital with Wayne next to my bed. I didn’t think that was real, to be honest.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Yeah, it, uh… I tried taking care of you, and after I kinda put the pieces together, I wasn’t gonna let anyone else see you or touch you, I mean, I kind of knew what it meant, you know, to be transsexual, and I didn’t know everything, but I figured it was enough that I found out without your permission. I mean, I think about… Never mind, just… Yeah, so I tried taking care of you, but, like I said, I was sick, too. I think, um, it was Nancy… She kind of found us half-dead in my bed after not hearing from us for a couple days. She got in contact with Wayne, got us both to the hospital. You were there longer than me.”

“Does Nancy know?” Eddie whispers. “I mean, we talk a lot, and she’s never… She’s never mentioned it, but would she if she did?”

“She doesn’t know, baby. As far as I know, she doesn’t. I’m telling you, man, I didn’t let anyone else see you for days. I was…”

“My guard dog, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Steve chuckles.

“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Should give you a treat.”

Steve smiles, presses a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “I’ve got it already.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie mumbles. “You can’t break out the Harrington charm right now.”

“Why not?” Steve asks.

“Because I’m gonna need to fuck you again for that and I don’t think I can move.”

Steve laughs and curls himself around Eddie. “Alright, I’ll cool it with the charm, then.”

They both sleep soundly that night, but Steve finds himself thinking about all of those complicated things before he drifts off, and again when he wakes up in the morning, as he watches Eddie fix his hair and slide on his rings over painted nails.

from chapter 5 of “you make me feel like i am whole again” on ao3

[therandomfandomme]

The tabloids that are loosing their shit about rockstar Eddie Munson, bc he's been spotted around with a boy and later a girl, like full on making out both times, and while he doesn't like talking about his private life they know he has a partner that he talked about in interviews. And this is quite the scandal, it's plastered on every cover, yet there hasn't been a public fight, no one trying to come and cash in by doing an exclusive interview about being cheated on my Eddie Munson and they just don't understand. Meanwhile at home genderfluid Steve is reading the tabloids to Eddie as they lounge on the couch and laugh about it, bc it has always been Steve in the pictures, so the tabloids are claiming Eddie is cheating on Steve... with Steve

[trs4frs]

steve “big shirt little pants” harrington 🤝 eddie “little shirt big pants” munson

[strangerthingscharityzine]

The Zine Is Live!!!

IT'S HERE!!!!!

The Stranger Things LGBTQ+ Charity Zine is officially available! For a donation of at least $5, you'll receive a 55 page zine of 13 original works of art and writing that celebrate LGBTQ+ themes and characters in the Stranger Things Universe.

All proceeds from this zine will be donated to TREES, Inc., Transgender Resource, Education and Enrichment Services, advocating for the wellbeing of trans people in Indiana and beyond!

GET THE ZINE!!!!!

[felix-lupin]

Nobody does it like fictional men who think they're sooooo suave & cool & charismatic but they're actually the biggest most pathetic sopping wet girlfail losers you've ever seen in your whole entire life

[ghosttotheparty]

lessons in femininity

part two of pretty girls part 1 also on ao3

Steve never intended on telling anyone.

Not a soul.

But Eddie fucking Munson pried it out of his chest, so patiently and tenderly and lovingly that Steve let him.

And now Steve is on his way to his best friend’s house because her parents aren’t home, and his hands are shaking, and he can’t really breathe, but even though he feels like he might die, he has a weird feeling he’s going to be fine.

He stops his car about a block away, taking a deep breath and squeezing the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. And then he steels himself, tensing as he pulls into Robin’s driveway.

———

No, I’m fine, I just… I need to tell you something.

Robin’s had a pit in her stomach since Steve called her and asked if he could come over, anxiety and a little bit of fear knitted inside her because of the way Steve’s voice was shaking.

He gives her a weak smile when she opens the door for him, and she pulls him inside.

“What’s wrong?”

He laughs lightly, pushing his hands in his pockets. He does that when he’s nervous.

“Nothing wrong, I just… gotta tell you something.”

“What is it?” Robin asks anxiously.

“Uh.” Steve pauses, pushing his hand through his hair. “Can we sit?”

“Wanna go to my room?” Robin asks. Steve nods.

He follows her down the hall, and she shuts the door as he sits cross-legged on her bed even though there’s no one else home. He’s looking at the painting on her wall that she did when she was fourteen. A shitty ufo abducting a cow. He loves that painting.

“What’s going on?” she asks, crawling onto the bed.

“Uhm.” He takes a deep, shaky breath and pushes his glasses up. “I’m, uhm.”

“Steve,” she says softly. He shakes his head, smiling weakly.

“I’m fine, I swear,” he says, because sometimes he can read her mind. She wishes she could read his right now. He takes a deep breath, his hands on his knees, straightening his arms out like he’s bracing himself. “Okay. I’m— I’m queer.”

She stares at him, wide-eyed, and she relaxes, slumping, and her lips curve into a slow smile. His eyes cut up to hers.

“Oh,” she says softly. “Steve, that’s…”

He takes a breath.

“It’s not— It’s not just…” He pushes his hair back again. His hands are shaking. Robins’s stomach twists, and she reaches out, taking his hands in her own, pulling at them until Steve shifts. Their legs wrap around each other and she cradles his hands gently.

“What is it?”

“So…” He exhales shakily, playing with her fingers. “I like… I like men. Also.”

“Cool,” she says softly.

“But I also, uhm…” He blinks hard, swaying slightly, his hands tightening on Robin’s.

“Steve?”

“Sorry,” he says softly. “Just got a little lightheaded, ‘m fine.”

“Are you gonna have a migraine?” she asks worriedly. “Should I close the curtains?”

“No, it’s okay, don’t worry.”

“You can’t tell me you’re lightheaded and then tell me you're fine--"

"I'm fine,” he insists, laughing softly, squeezing her hands. “I’m just nervous, I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to be nervous, you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” he says adamantly. “‘S just— I wasn’t ever gonna tell you because it’s— I think it’s weird, but Eddie says it’s not weird,” he says quietly, looking at their linked hands. “And you’re my best friend in the world, so I want you to know, but I just— I don’t know how to say it.”

“You told Eddie?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking at her nervously.

“Tell me what you told him.”

Steve takes a deep breath.

“Okay. Uhm.” He looks at their hands again, tracing a line on her palm carefully like he’s drawing it. “So. I don’t think…” He hesitates, wincing. “I know,” he corrects. “I’m not just… a guy.”

She blinks, closing her fingers around his hand, listening intently.

“Okay,” she says softly.

“I’m— I’m a girl too. Kind of. I’m both,” he says choppily, anxiously, his hands trembling. She squeezes. “Eddie says he— he’s met people like me. Transsexuals and…” He takes a gasping breath, and she leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“‘S cool, Steve,” she says gently, squeezing his hands. “That’s okay.”

“I don’t— It’s not that I want to be a woman,” Steve says anxiously. “I’m just… I wouldn’t mind it? I like… being called pretty, and— and Eddie called me a girl and I really liked it.”

Robin listens, ignoring the curiosity that’s curling in her chest. (She wonders why Steve started all this by saying he likes men. Why Eddie was the first person he told about all of this. But at the same time, she doesn’t really wonder. Maybe she can read his mind the way he can read hers.)

“But at the same time I don’t, like, mind being called dude, or being seen as a man.” He’s quiet for a second. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Robin whispers. “That makes sense.”

He swallows nervously, biting his lip.

“Steve,” she says softly. “It’s fine. I’m not… judging you or anything. Not about this.”

He shoots her a look, scoffing, blinking tears out of his eyes. She wipes one away.

“Your taste in movies, sure,” she teases, and he laughs softly. “But not about this, not about who you are.”

She leans in, resting her forehead on his, and he takes a soft, gasping breath.

“I love you, Steve,” she murmurs. “Okay? No matter what.”

He lets go of her hands and wraps his arms around her neck, pulling her into a tight hug. She squeezes her eyes shut, moving forward so she’s sitting between his legs, her legs around his waist, and she runs a hand over the back of his head when she feels him inhale slowly.

She sighs when they separate, patting his cheek. He laughs softly.

“If I talk about you to Eddie how should I refer to you?” she asks.

“Uh.” He looks away, smiling softly like he doesn’t even realise he’s smiling. “He. I think. I don’t really know.”

“That’s okay.”

“We’re gonna go to, uhm, a queer bar in Indy,” Steve tells her, smiling crookedly, happily. “And he said I can try new things out. Being a girl.”

She smiles back.

“Eddie, huh?”

His face flushes red and he rubs his cheek bashfully, his eyes shining. Robin pokes his stomach, cooing, and he rolls his eyes, throwing himself onto his back.

But Robin’s legs are still around him, and she goes down with him, shouting his name. He wraps his arms around her tightly, laughing loudly.

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

“Ugh.”

They’re quiet for a moment, still giggling as they hold each other, until she sits up abruptly and looks down at him.

“How do you feel about makeup?”

“Uh. I’ve never worn it.”

“Would you like to?”

“…I’m open to the idea.”

She beams, scrambling to get up off of him, and he sighs heavily.

When she comes back with her makeup bags in hand, he’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, looking at the mural again.

“God, you really like that painting,” she says, sitting across from him.

“I want one,” he says. “When I get my own apartment.”

“I’ll do it for you,” she says lightly. “If you supply the paint.”

“Deal.”

“So, Eddie,” she says as she pulls his glasses off his face and hooks them on the front of her shirt. He rolls his eyes, blushing again. “Come on,” she says adamantly, rummaging through a bag. He watches, squinting. “I never got to gush about crushes and stuff with my friends.”

“‘S not really a crush,” Steve mutters quietly. She freezes as she’s pulling blush out.

“What’s that mean?”

Steve looks down, his fingers tangled in his lap.

“‘S my boyfriend,” he mumbles.

She smacks his shoulder.

“You asswipe, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It only happened like a few days ago,” he says defensively.

“Fine,” she says, reaching for the blush brush. “Strong tally on the You Rule board.”

He beams brightly, and the apples of his cheeks rise. Robin grins and puts the blush on them.

“So how’d it happen?” she asks, leaning back to make sure the blush is even. His left cheek is pinker, so she adds more to the right. “You and Eddie.”

“Uh.” He closes his eyes. “I think we’ve always had, like. A thing.”

“Uh-huh.” She brushes it over his nose.

“He was over with the kids for Hellfire at my place the other day. And we— Oh you’re gonna hate this.”

She rolls her eyes as she puts the blush away.

“Just tell me.”

“We went out for a smoke.”

Robin groans loudly. He laughs. She looks through her eyeshadows as they talk.

“Whatever.”

“I only went because I wanted to be near him.

“Sickeningly romantic, Steve.”

“Thanks. Anyway, I followed him out, and when I went to light my cigarette, he stopped me and said that pretty girls never light their own cigarettes.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, it like… did something to me.”

“Gross.”

He laughs, and she finally settles on a colour, using her finger to brush it over his eyelid. He flinches back for a moment before he relaxes again.

“And?” she prompts. She can’t stop smiling.

“It felt nice,” he says softly. “I haven’t been called a girl since I was a kid. At least not in like… a nice way?”

“Yeah?”

“I couldn’t really, like… laugh it off. And he could tell something was up, so after the kids left, we… talked.”

“Talked,” Robin repeats slowly.

“We talked,” he insists. “I explained everything, and he was really… sweet. And then we made out for a while. And stuff.”

“Oh my god.”

He grins.

She rummages for her brushes and looks though the eyeshadow again.

“Is he a good kisser?” she asks as she starts working again.

“Mm.”

“Don’t moan—”

“I didn’t moan, that was an affirmative noise. You’re so dramatic.”

“Whatever.”

“How’s Vickie?”

“Vickie…” She sighs, smudging the makeup carefully. “She’s great.“

“But?”

“But. I don’t know,” she sighs again, touching his chin to make him tilt his head. “We’re, like… really similar. Which I didn’t know until we started hanging out. But like… We even have the same haircut, Steve.”

Steve snorts, and she swats at his nose.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Anyway, she’s really cool, and I do like her, ‘s just… We went out a while ago and our waitress and another customer both thought we were sisters. Not even friends, Steve. Sisters. Which, like, I go out with you, people think we’re siblings, that’s fine, that’s kinda funny, you know? We’re best friends, we can be siblings, whatever. But a girl I wanna date? God, it was so awkward, Steve.”

“So you’re not seeing her again?”

“I don’t think so,” she sighs. “Maybe it’ll be more fun to hang out with her without, like… trying to be in a relationship with her? Think I’d like to be her friend. And…” She trails off, pulling her hands away from Steve’s face.

“And?”

She exhales, his chest tightening.

“God, I’m an awful friend.”

“I just told you I’m a girl with a dick and you said ‘That’s cool,’ and promptly started doing my makeup. You’re a good friend, Robin.”

He opens his eyes and looks at her. The makeup looks nice.

“And what?” he prompts softly.

She fidgets with the makeup brush in her hands, spinning it the way she spins her pens.

“I think… maybe part of the reason I’m not super into Vickie anymore because I might be kinda, really into, uhm. Nancy.”

She looks up at him nervously, but he just smiles.

“Cool.”

“Steve. It’s not cool.”

“It’s cool.”

“Steve.” She glares at him halfheartedly. “…It’s not cool.”

“It’s fine,” Steve says, smiling, leaning forward in emphasis.

“She’s your ex.”

“She’s my friend.” He reaches up and holds her chin. She can tell that Steve can’t see her clearly, his eyes not entirely focussed on her, but it doesn’t seem to matter. “And you’re my best friend. And I want you to be happy.”

She frowns, her eyes burning.

“You should go for it,” he says, letting go of her. She pulls his face closer, and his eyes fall shut.

“She doesn’t even like girls,” Robin grumbles.

“You don’t know that.”

“And you do?”

He shrugs.

“I didn’t know I liked guys for a good while.”

“‘S true,” she mutters.

Steve smiles absently as she finishes his makeup, even when he tells her not to stab his eye with the mascara.

She leans back when she finishes, satisfied. His eyelids are a shimmery pink, soft blue fluffed out around his lash lines. His eyelashes are dark and long, his cheeks pink, and they flush even pinker when Robin says softly, “You look pretty.”

“You think?”

“Here.” She pulls his glasses off her shirt and hands them to him, reaching for the pocket mirror as he puts them on. His eyes widen when he looks into it, his smile softening.

“Oh.”

“You wanna try on a dress, pretty girl?” Robin asks, grinning.

“Can I?”

Her grin widens, and she scrambles out of bed to her closet.

He goes to the bathroom down the hall to change, and she sorts her makeup out as she waits.

“Robin, I don’t know…”

She looks up, and the makeup bag slips from her fingers. Steve is standing in the doorway, looking down at himself. The dress is blue, matching his makeup, and the skirt flows when he shifts his weight.

She sits heavily on the bed as he looks up at her.

“Woah.”

“Woah?” he questions, rubbing his hands over the dress. “Good woah?”

“Yeah,” she says, grinning, looking him up and down. She picked the dress for him to pick because it fit her weirdly, but it fits him perfectly, hugging his waist and chest. “You’re keeping that.”

“Wha— I can’t just keep your dress, Robin.”

“It doesn’t even fit me, Steve,” she says, still looking at him. “You’re keeping it.”

He looks back down at the dress quietly, running his hands over it slowly, and his lips curve into a small smile.

“…Okay.”

“Do you feel pretty?”

He pauses, swaying slightly and watching the skirt twirl.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I do.”

“Gimme a spin.”

He does, grinning brightly when she squeals excitedly as the skirt twirls around his legs.

“You gotta show Eddie,” she says, bouncing up and down in excitement. “He’s gonna love it.”

“You think?” Steve asks in a small voice, nervously.

“For sure.”

He tackles her onto the bed, and she cackles, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

“Can I do your makeup?” he asks after a minute. “Will you teach me?”

“Oh my god, yes.”

Steve is a fast learner. His hands are gentle as he runs the brushes and his fingers softly over her skin, and she thinks she could fall asleep here.

They take photos with her Polaroid when he finishes. One for her, one for Steve, and one more for Eddie, the bottoms all inscribed with S + R 1989.

She makes Steve take some makeup home with him the next day, just for days he wants to feel pretty. And for when he goes to Indy with Eddie.

~~~~~~~~~

“Munson residence.”

“So formal, Eddie.”

Eddie grins, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes to listen to Steve’s voice, slightly staticky over the phone.

“Gotta be, just in case. What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?”

“Not much, I just…”

Eddie tilts his head.

“Just?”

“Uhm. Can you come over?” Steve asks softly.

“Are you alright?” Eddie asks, standing up straight, furrowing his brows. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m— I’m fine, baby, I just… I have something to show you.”

“To show me?” Eddie repeats, raising his eyebrows. “Is this a surprise?”

“Yes?”

“Am I gonna like it?”

“I think so?”

Eddie grins, licking his lips and looking across the room at his shoes.

“I‘ll head over in a few minutes. ‘M cleaning the kitchen for Wayne.”

“Okay. More time for me to get ready.”

“Get ready?” Eddie repeats, raising his eyebrows, smiling and biting his lip. “My interest is piqued.”

“Good.” Steve is quiet for a moment, but Eddie can practically hear his smile. “I miss you.”

“It’s been two days, babygirl.”

“God, tell me about it.”

“…I miss you too,” Eddie says quietly, pulling his hair to hide his face.

“Lame.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, still smiling. “I’m gonna clean faster than I’ve ever cleaned in my life and then I’ll head over.”

“Okay. Uhm. Just come upstairs when you get here, don’t knock or anything.”

“Oh, I am so curious,” Eddie says adamantly, his stomach fluttering.

“Go clean.”

“Going cleaning. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Lame.”

Eddie hears him snort as he hangs the phone up, and his hands flap joyfully as he heads back to the kitchen.

If he speeds on the way to Steve’s, that’s no one’s business but his.

He kicks his shoes off at the door, looking around happily at all the shit the kids have left behind. Jackets and hats and worksheets and pens and dice.

“Stevie,” he sings as he heads up the stairs, and he knocks a quiet rhythm on his door before swinging it open. “Hey, sweet— Oh.”

He freezes, his smile falling as his eyes land on Steve, sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling up at him.

He’s wearing a dress.

A pretty blue dress that fans out over his knees as he kicks his socked feet, holding the edge of the bed. His eyes blink behind his glasses, his eyelids shimmery and pink, his lashes dark. His cheeks are flushed.

“Hi,” he says softly.

Eddie leans against the wall, shutting the door without blinking, and he slides to the floor. His mouth is hanging open, his eyes wide, and he exhales sharply. Steve giggles softly.

“Stand,” Eddie says softly, absently, and Steve does, standing and holding his arms out, swaying to make the skirt twirl a little bit.

“Wow,” Eddie breathes.

“You like it?”

Eddie blinks at him, his eyes scanning over the way the fabric of the dress stretches over his waist, the way the neckline dips to show his chest hair, the way the thin fabric of the short sleeves flutter when he moves. Eddie looks at his face, at the blush on his cheek and his shining eyelids, the way the mascara makes his eyes even brighter.

“Eddie?” Steve says softly, and Eddie blinks.

“You look beautiful, princess,” he whispers.

Steve’s face turns even more pink, and he slides his hands over the dress.

“Really?”

Eddie scoffs, gazing up at him. His whole body aches with the desire to touch him, and his chest is tight. He can’t really breathe.

“Jesus, Stevie.”

Steve grins, twirling the skirt again, and then he sits in front of Eddie, crossing his legs and draping the skirt over his lap carefully.

Eddie moves forward, swallowing thickly.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Eddie reaches out and slides his hands over Steve’s arms, squeezing his biceps gently, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder over the fabric.

“So pretty, Stevie,” he murmurs, kissing the side of his neck.

“Robin showed me how to use her makeup,” Steve says quietly. Eddie looks at him, at the shimmer of his eyelids.

“You did a good job.”

“You think so?”

Eddie reaches up and touches his face gently, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks, under his glasses. He gazes at him, at his eyelashes and the moles that spot his skin. His lips.

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, pulls at it a little bit, smiling with Steve is pliant and parts his lips like Eddie’s going to press his thumb into his mouth.

“You ever think about lipstick?”

He kisses Steve before he can answer, and Steve smiles against his mouth, reaching to hold his face. His hands are soft.

“Might be a problem if I can’t keep my lips off you, though,” Eddie adds softly, holding Steve’s chin.

Steve hums.

“Could be fun to get it all over your face.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise.

“You are… awakening things inside me.”

Steve giggles brightly, tugging at Eddie’s shirt and moving up onto his knees, pulling Eddie forward and then pushing him to lay on his back on the floor.

Steve crawls over him, straddling his waist, setting the skirt delicately, and Eddie feels like he could cry.

“You look like a fucking angel,” Eddie says softly. “Holy shit.”

“What’s your favourite colour lipstick?” Steve asks, grinning, settling his weight on Eddie. His hands press over Eddie’s chest.

“Red,” Eddie says softly.

“What kinda red?”

“…Bright.”

“I’ll find some,” Steve says softly, leaning down, pressing on Eddie’s chest. He presses a slow kiss just beside Eddie’s mouth. “Mark you up.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says weakly, keening as Steve starts to press kiss over his cheeks and jaw. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

Steve is gigging against his skin, gripping the front of his shirt.

“You okay?”

“Stevie, I got the prettiest girl in Hawkins holding me onto the ground and lovin’ on me, I’m so fucking okay.”

Steve sits up to take his glasses off, and he sets them aside before burying his face in Eddie’s neck.

~~~~~~~~~

It’s starting to rain by the time the girls get to Steve’s house. Erica pulls her hood up over her head and El is covering her eyes with a hand as they follow Max up the stairs, where she bangs on the door obnoxiously.

It takes a few seconds before Steve flings the door open, his eyes wide.

“Jesus,” he says when his eyes meet Max’s. “What the hell?”

“We’re having a girls’ day,” she says, looking up at him. He looks different these days. Lighter. His hair looks softer. His cheeks are pinker. And he smells different, warmer, less like a guys’ locker room.

“Okay?” he says, looking at Erica and El. “Why are you here?”

“They’re doing maintenance at my place,” Max says. “The guys are all at the Sinclairs’, and Jonathan and Argyle are getting high at the Byers-Hoppers’.”

Steve blinks blankly at her.

“We’d hang out at the quarry or something, but…” She gestures at the sky, and his eyes follow, looking at the dark clouds and the sprinkling rain. “Can we come in?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

He holds the door open for them. Max punches his side gently as she passes.

They go to the living room after kicking off their shoes. Steve takes their coats and hangs them up by the door.

“You guys need anything?” he asks as they get settled on the sofa.

Erica sets her chin on the back of it, looking over at him in the entry of the living room.

“Can you feed us?”

“Uh. I can order pizza.”

“Ah, fuck yeah,” Max says. Steve clicks his tongue.

“Language.”

“Can you get one with pineapple?” El asks. “Please?”

She’s Steve’s favourite.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, smiling. “Even though it’s gross.”

“Try before you deny,” El says lightly, turning to open her backpack. Steve scoffs.

“You spend too much time with Argyle.”

“He’s funny.”

Steve goes to order the pizza. Max puts on a movie while Erica and El sort through their nail polish collections, discussing which colours they want.

Erica chooses a vibrant purple. El chooses a coral pink. Max chooses a dark blue.

While they wait for the pizza, Steve brings them soda. Mello Yello for Max and Pepsis for Erica and El. Max sees his eyes linger on the nail polish, on Erica painting El’s nails carefully, meticulously. He seems to get stuck for a few seconds, watching almost curiously.

So the next time he comes in with a bowl of chopped apples and grapes and strawberries, she stops him.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“…Can I paint your nails?”

She’s almost joking, prepared to laugh it off, prepared for him to scoff and roll his eyes and say whatever. But he looks back at her for a moment, and then—

“Yeah, sure.”

El gasps in excitement, wiggling for a moment in her seat as she reaches for the bag of nail polish, careful not to mess up her nails.

“Wait, really?” Erica says, looking up at him, her eyes and smile wide.

“Yeah, why not?”

“What colour do you want?” Max asks as Steve sits on the floor in front of the sofa, looking up at her.

“You guys pick.”

He listens as they bicker together, and they eventually settle on a shade of pink so pale it’s almost white. Max expects Steve to argue or wrinkle his nose at it, but he just smiles and sets his hands out on the sofa for them to work.

“How do you do that so neatly?” he asks curiously, watching El’s hands.

She shows him, reciting everything Joyce told her a few years ago, carefully pressing the brush up near his cuticles, holding the tip of his finger to avoid getting paint on the skin around his nails, and he watches raptly, open-mouthed as if in awe. Max catches Erica’s eye over his head and they both giggle.

The pizza arrives as El is painting his right hand, holding it up close to her face, her brows furrowed adorably in concentration, and Erica goes to get it. Max holds slices in front of Steve’s face for him to take bites from as his nails are painted, and Erica does the same for El.

El asks Steve if he wants to try putting the top coat on her nails. He does, seemingly remembering everything she said, his eyes wide, brows furrowed, tongue poking over his lips in concentration. El smiles the whole time.

They put on another movie when they finish with everyone’s nails. Steve won’t stop smiling, glancing at his while they finish the pizza and fruit. El curls up against his side after she finishes eating. He presses a kiss to the top of her head.

Max lays her head on El’s lap, closing her eyes when she feels her fingers run through her hair, carefully untangling it.

When she wakes up, her glasses are on the coffee table next to the empty pizza boxes. She sits up slowly, squinting, and finds them before she looks at the others.

El is still laying against Steve, her cheek squishing against his chest, and Erica is on his other side, her legs across his lap, her face on his shoulder. Steve’s glasses are crooked, and his mouth is hanging open, his head resting on the back of the sofa. Max smiles, rubbing her face.

She stands, wobbly, when there’s a noise in the kitchen, and she quietly exits the room, squinting again, this time out of suspicion.

Eddie is at the stove, humming to himself as he scrapes eggs on a pan.

“Eddie?”

He turns, raising his eyebrows. He’s wearing a frilly apron, the words #1 MOM across his chest, a gag gift from the boys to Steve.

“Mornin’, Red.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Came by to see Stevie,” he says lightly, turning back to the stove. “Walked in on that sweet cuddle fest in the living room. I considered joining but I didn’t wanna wake you guys up.”

“Huh.”

She stretches, yawning and looking around the kitchen. Her eyes catch on the fridge. There’s a new Polaroid photo stuck to it with the drawings Erica and Will have given Steve. (There’s one of him as a knight. Max thinks that’s Steve’s favourite. He wouldn’t stop staring at it when Will handed it to him.)

She gets closer. Even with her coke-bottle glasses, her vision isn’t very good.

“You took a picture?”

She stares at it. Her own sleeping face, partially hidden by her hair, El’s hand resting on her head. El’s face on Steve’s chest, his arm around her, his other around Erica. In the photo, the pink of his nails is barely visible, but the angle shows the bottles of nail polish on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, scooping the eggs into a bowl. “Had to. Walkin’ into a cute scene like that. I’d paint it if I could.”

She snorts.

Eddie sits on the table when he finishes cooking. (Eggs and french toast, like was in a mission to use every egg in the fridge.) She sits down she can lay her head on his leg as he sips her coffee.

“Will you give me a tattoo when I turn eighteen?”

“I don’t know how to tattoo people, Red.”

“Will you take me to get a tattoo when I turn eighteen?”

“Yeah, sure. What do you want?”

“Hm.” She nuzzles into his leg, and he sips his coffee noisily, running a hand through her hair. She’s grateful he doesn’t have many rings on. “Maybe some Kate Bush lyrics.”

“Fuck, that’s smart. I should get some.”

She snorts.

“You a Kate Bush fan?”

“Definitely,” he says, his voice echoing in the mug before he sips again. “Kept you around, didn’t she?”

She tries, unsuccessfully, to suppress a smile.

The others join them after a while. Steve looks more awake than El and Erica, and Max wonders if he woke up and just stayed there for a while.

As the girls are serving themselves, Steve joins Eddie at the coffee maker. Max watches as Steve holds his hand up so Eddie can see his nails, smiling almost proudly. Eddie smiles in a way Max has never seen before. He looks like he might cry. They exchange a few words that Max can’t hear, and a nod, and then just as Max is about to look away, Eddie lifts Steve’s hand to his lips and pecks the back of it, his eyes shining.

Max’s eyebrows fly up, and she expects Steve to smack him away with a good-natured laugh, but Steve twists his hand to hold Eddie’s chin for a second, and then he turns away. He’s smiling. Eddie is gazing at him.

Max tears her eyes away, trying to suppress her own smile.

It makes sense, she guesses as she places slices of french toast on her plate. Why Eddie walks into the Harrington house like he lives there. Why last week he was wearing a red sweater that Max knew belongs to Steve. Why he calls Steve Stevie. Why Steve’s eyes follow him around every time the Party hangs out. Why he wears Eddie’s red guitar pick around his neck. (It’s usually under his shirt or sweater, but he has a tendency to fidget, and Max is observant.)

She douses the french toast in maple syrup.

“That is so much syrup, holy shit,” Steve says, staring at her plate, wide-eyed.

“It’s the food of gods, Steven.”

“Christ.”

She sits next to Erica so Steve and Eddie can sit next to each other.

[charlie-jl]

Stephen Marie !! I wasn't gonna post this on here originally but Instagram seems to like it so here !! ♡♡

I read this concept in the final chapter of "Took you for a working boy" by pukner on AO3 and literally couldn't stop thinking about it

It's genderqueer Steve where him and Robin ended up switching middle names which I thought was so fricken sweet

Also post-apocalyptic world where Eddie is a radio show host or something, it's really sweet ANYWAYS iky bye ♡♡