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inairbinad · 11 months

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Heaven, Indiana

A re-imagining of season 3, where Eddie and Robin are already looped in on the Upside Down madness, and Eddie joins Scoops Troop. Part of my Barb Lives AU from the Petals Verse, where everyone lives and the timeline gets wonky as a result. Can be read on its own. @steddie-week day 4 prompts: Familiar / Here Come the Tears

Eddie woke with a jolt from the same, familiar nightmare he’d been having since November. The one where he found himself right back in those unnatural, revolting tunnels beneath Hawkins, on the brink of death with Steve Harrington grasping his hands in fear.

On the dark of his bedroom ceiling he could still see the imprint of Steve’s eyes, wide and terrified that they were about to die. Even now that he was awake Eddie could still feel the pit in his stomach, the burning in his calves from running, the ache of wishing he’d kissed Steve in that moment with a stampede of demodogs charging after them both.

Eddie didn’t need to have creative nightmares anymore, not like he did when he was a kid. The reality of what he and Steve had gone through—and Robin, and the kids, and the rest of them—in the course of trying to save Hawkins from a swarm of actual demogorgons and a goddamn Mind Flayer was more than enough to keep Eddie haunted for the rest of time.

It didn’t help that every single one of those terrified, cursed memories was tied up in want.

His desperation to kiss Steve in that moment haunted his dreams nearly as often as the version where they never made it out of the tunnels all.

Or sometimes Eddie would find himself back in the bus in the junkyard, waiting for Steve to come diving back inside the bus with a hoard of demons at his back. This time Eddie would catch Steve in his arms, breathless and sweating from staring down the gaping maw of death with nothing but a nail bat. Then Eddie would slide his hands into Steve’s hair and his tongue into Steve’s mouth, caring for nothing and no one else while the rot clawed and scratched at the door, desperate to consume them both.

Eddie felt so inexplicably deranged for how much of his lust was tangled up in the violence that he wanted to scream.

Instead he groaned, then finally dragged himself out of bed to take a cold shower and get ready for work.

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up dressed like a sailor—or rather more like a pirate, considering the tattoos he refused to cover up while he was working, like he was supposed to—and toiling away in the shiny, brand new, and brightly colored Starcourt Mall. But there he was, on time for his shift of scooping ice cream and pretending to be happy about it.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Eddie already knew he’d ended up there because of Steve goddamn Harrington: bane of Eddie’s existence and possibly the love his life, all wrapped up into one monster-hunting, child-defending, short-short-wearing package.

The problem with all of this—working with Steve, being friends with Steve, spending way too much of his every waking moment with Steve—was that now Eddie knew Steve was bisexual, and Eddie didn’t know how to deal with that bit of intel. Because knowing that meant every minute Steve wasn’t kissing Eddie, Eddie was going insane. It was one thing for Eddie to quiet the delusion that Steve would ever look in his direction before, back when Eddie assumed Steve was straight. But once Eddie realized he’d accidentally stumbled into some kind of queer-alliance-slash-part-time-monster-hunters club last fall, he’d been decidedly less capable of coping with his crush.

Sure, learning that alternate dimensions and monsters actually existed was enough of a mindfuck to last Eddie a lifetime. But then he had to go and get clobbered with the news that Steve was bi, and Barb and Nancy were dating, Robin was also a lesbian—and Steve Harrington is bi, dear god does that mean I have a shot?

The demogorgons seemed kind of quaint, after that. Even the ones Dustin tried to raise as pets.

It was nice, though, having more people like himself to hang out with. The thought of ever finding other gay friends in Hawkins used to seem laughable to Eddie, but now there was a whole flock of them.

All of this led to Eddie thinking he would enjoy working with Steve and Robin at Scoops Ahoy for the summer, just to have an excuse to be around Steve all day, every day. In that goddamn uniform, too. But it was only making Eddie fall for Steve harder.

So, yeah, Harrington was undoubtedly the reason Eddie was here. And he was late for his shift.

Rather than daydream about him until he showed, Eddie opted to kill the time between customers by having some fun with Robin.

“What about her, Birdie?” Eddie asked, nudging Robin to look across the food court towards a dark-haired girl near the Orange Julius.

Robin twisted to follow Eddie’s eye line until she landed on the girl in question. This was typically how the two of them liked to pass their shifts at Scoops Ahoy together—by playing each other’s wingmen while pretending everyone in Hawkins was draped in a rainbow flag and available to flirt.

“She looks like Nance,” Robin said, scrunching up her nose.

“Is that a problem?” Eddie asked, laughing lightly. He didn’t have much of a peg-leg to stand on, but he was nearly certain that Nancy was objectively pretty.

“No,” Robin shrugged, then started scanning the crowd for a girl more her speed. “I just wouldn’t want Barb to think I’m secretly lusting after her girlfriend.”

“Ah,” Eddie said, nodding slowly. “I forgot how seriously you took this imaginary game of ours.”

Rather than reply, Robin gave him a hearty shove until he went toppling off the counter he’d been perched atop. Eddie laughed as he stumbled to stay upright, but tripped over his own feet in the process. He was already halfway to flat on his ass, a smart remark about Robin’s clumsiness rubbing off on him already perched on his tongue, when he felt a pair of strong arms catch him around the waist. Eddie knew from the solid feel of the chest against his back who had caught him, but the whole thing was a little too ironic for words.

“Good catch, Steve,” Robin laughed, just as Eddie turned his face back and upward to look into Steve’s. “Thought I might’ve killed our friend for a second.”

“I thought I told you to stop throwing him around,” Steve said with a grin. Eddie was still staring at him, still happily leaning into the feel of Steve’s arms wrapped around him. “He’s precious goods.”

Eddie couldn’t help the swell of satisfaction it gave him to hear Steve say that.

“I can’t stop my clumsy from rubbing off on you two,” Robin shrugged. Eddie grunted when at least part of his brain registered how Robin had just stolen his line.

Reluctantly, Eddie reactivated his own legs as he stood up of his own volition instead of relying on Steve. He brushed himself off and tried to act somewhat normal.

“Thanks for the save, Stevie,” Eddie said, doing his best to put on a charming smile. “And for trying to stop Birdie from trying to murder me.”

“Anytime, Eds,” Steve smiled back at full strength, plopping his sailor hat on as he did. “Sorry I’m late, I forgot where I left my keys again. What did I miss?”

“Robin’s got the hots for Nance,” Eddie said, earning himself a thwack from Robin’s own hat to accompany her squeak of indigence.

“I do not!” she cried, looking between Steve and Eddie—who were both giggling under their breath at her—like she couldn’t believe they’d treat her like this. “Assholes. Stop fucking with me.”

“Chrissy Cunningham’s on her way over,” Steve said next, elbowing Eddie in the side and nodding towards the front of the store.

“Oh, ha ha,” Robin grumbled. “Get Robin even more flustered by telling her the prettiest girl in Hawkins is near by, you’re so hilarious, dingus.”

Eddie, obviously a better friend than Steve, was frantically dragging his forefinger back and forth across his throat, trying to signal to Robin to shut the fuck up because Chrissy was, indeed, on her way up to the counter. Robin noticed too late, though, and Steve was having the time of his life watching her face turn red and her eyes get wide as a full moon.

Chrissy, sweetheart that she was, didn’t do much more than take in Robin’s distressed posture with a look of concern. “You okay, Robin?”

If she’d heard Robin calling her the ‘prettiest girl in Hawkins,’ she was doing an excellent job of hiding it. Eddie still noticed a sparkle in her eye that made him suspect she’d heard every word.

Robin gave Eddie a pleading look, like she wanted him to fix this for her, but he shook his head resolutely. She narrowed her eyes at him, then spun on her heel and beamed at Chrissy.

“I’m great, sorry,” Robin said, recovering impressively. “What’s up, Chrissy?”

“Oh, just shopping with some friends,” she shrugged. “Thought I’d come say hi. So, hi.”

“Hi,” Robin repeated, looking a little thunderstruck as Chrissy smiled at her. Eddie couldn’t blame her. Chrissy wasn’t in her usual cheerleader getup, and ironically enough she was in a rainbow colored t-shirt and jean shorts. But Eddie really knew what was driving Robin nuts was the fact that Chrissy was wearing suspenders, and her hair was loose and flowing down past her shoulders.

Eddie had heard many whiney monologues from Robin about how pretty Chrissy was over the last few months. He knew what to look for at this point.

“So, I’m having a party for the Fourth of July,” Chrissy started, then bit her lip as she paused to assess Robin’s face. Eddie zeroed in on it, wondering if maybe there was something reciprocal there that he hadn’t noticed before. “You should come.”

“Me?” Robin asked, really playing into the awkward teenage romcom angle, even if unintentionally.

“Yes,” Chrissy laughed, then she seemed to notice Steve and Eddie for the first time. “All of you should come.”

“We’d love to,” Steve said right away, elbowing Robin in an attempt to make her remember her words, probably. “Right, Rob?”

“Totally!” Robin finally exclaimed, and Steve stepped back to Eddie’s side again as Chrissy filled her in on the details. They tried to pretend like they were minding their own business, talking shop about ice cream like it was extremely important, but naturally they were eavesdropping half to hell.

“So can I get you some ice cream?” Robin asked eventually, slipping into her professional persona.

“Do you do samples?” Chrissy asked, leaning over the glass container to get a look at the flavors.

“Sure,” Robin said, and Eddie knew she’d break the sample limit for Chrissy in a heartbeat.

Steve finally lost control of himself, desperate gossip that he was, and dragged Eddie in the back with him so he could let loose his own commentary with a breathless laugh.

“They’re like, actually really cute. But I thought Rob’s head was going to explode,” Steve whispered. As Eddie moved to listen just on the other side of the passthrough’s sliding doors, Steve sidled up behind him. Then, just to drive Eddie further into the deep end, Steve hooked his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and rested it there. A shudder ran through Eddie at the feel of Steve’s breath on his neck, and he did his best to cover it up by telling Steve to shut up.

“Shh, you goober,” Eddie grumbled, despite the fact that he was laughing, too. “I’m trying to listen.”

Steve mercifully quieted down but stayed exactly where he was, making it difficult for Eddie to focus on Robin, anyway.

“Do you have a usual favorite?” Robin was asking Chrissy about ice cream flavors, Eddie had to remind himself. That was the important thing happening right now, not Steve’s mouth in such close proximity to his neck.

“I tend to like the fruity ones,” Chrissy answered, and Steve honest-to-god cackled. Eddie did his best to shush him, but he had to literally bite down on his own fist to keep the hilarity of it bottled up, especially when Steve pressed his whole face into Eddie’s shoulder in a poor attempt to stifle himself.

A thud sounded from the other side of the wall, which Eddie was pretty sure came from Robin kicking it in annoyance. Poor Chrissy was just out there being a normal person, and Steve and Eddie had to go and turn into a puddle of giggles over it.

“I swear to god, Stevie,” Eddie sputtered, trying not to give in to Steve’s contagious laughter. “Stop it before Birdie murders us with an ice cream scoop.”

That only made Steve’s shoulders shake harder, because apparently he enjoyed the threat of dying at his best friend’s hand. Then he rested his hands on either side of Eddie’s waist, holding on in a squeezing grip, until Eddie felt his muscles twitch beneath Steve’s fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” Steve wheezed. “But fruity.”

“You’re fruity,” Eddie said under his breath, which only made Steve double over again, clutching onto Eddie harder.

“No shit,” Robin said, suddenly just on the other side of the passthrough. She slid the doors open and glared at them both. “Chrissy definitely thinks I’m insane now, and you’re lucky I don’t come back there and kill you both with my bare hands.”

“Have you considered using the ice cream scoop?” Steve suggested, and now it was Eddie’s turn to let out an ugly, surprised guffaw.

“I deserve a raise,” Robin deadpanned, then slammed the doors shut again.

Steve pulled away from Eddie then, much to Eddie’s dismay. He dabbed at his eyes with the hem of his shirt, revealing a whole lot of abs and a tantalizing bit of hair disappearing beneath his stupidly small shorts.

Eddie swallowed and looked determinedly away, until his eyes landed on the baffling supply of bananas that were waiting to be hung on the wall. He groaned inwardly and tried to focus on getting through the rest of the day in one piece.

Eddie went from doing his usual amount of pining after Steve and surviving just fine, thank you very much, to decidedly not fine at all when the jacked guy who taught aerobics upstairs showed up in the Scoops line.

Eddie didn’t even know why he bothered coming into Scoops in the first place. All he ever did was order the low-fat bullshit that wasn’t even really ice cream, in a tiny portion, and tip like shit.

And somehow Steve found this attractive.

“Would you like to set sail on an ocean of flavor with me?” Steve opened with his usual, company-approved line that he somehow had turned into a come-on. Every time Steve said it like that, with his hip popped and a charming smile on, it made Eddie want to kick himself for being hung up on him. And yet it was wildly adorable in a terrible kind of way, and Eddie had to admit it would have worked on him in an instant.

The buff one didn’t even appreciate it.

“Just the usual, please,” he said with an easy smile. Eddie hated him.

So he decided to give him some shit.

“How was the Jane Fonda tape today?” Eddie asked, leaning across the counter and definitely not doing his actual job. He heard Steve stifle a little laugh, though, so Eddie figured he wasn’t on thin ice just yet.

The aerobics guy’s face pinched, as if there was something wrong with Jane Fonda. Another red flag, as far as Eddie was concerned.

“It’s Jazzercise,” he corrected in a flat tone. “And it was fine. How’s slinging ice cream?”

“Oh, it’s the best job in the world,” Steve cut in just as Eddie opened his mouth mouth in retort. “Especially when we get such great and attractive customers like yourself!”

Steve winked, and Eddie barely held in a scream.

“Right,” the idiot on the other side of the counter remarked. Then he took his ice cream and fled the store.

“Mark one more in the ‘You Suck!’ column,” Robin announced with fanfare and a uncoordinated drumroll as she whipped out her white board. She also gave Eddie a long, knowing look behind Steve’s back. Steve stayed none-the-wiser to Eddie’s misery or to Robin’s ribbing him over it, since he was begrudgingly digging out the Polaroid that they used to mark such special occasions as tallying the board.

Eddie moved over to where Robin stood, knowing she’d want him in the photo with her, despite the fact that he was all but slumped into a pout.

“Photo evidence, please?” Robin cooed at Steve, positively buzzing with satisfaction. Literally, Eddie could feel her glee just from sitting beside her, as she marked another tally on the ‘You Suck” side of Steve’s exploits in flirting.

It wasn’t as bad as if Steve had finally landed a mark on the ‘You Rule’ column, but it still stung in particular every time Steve tried it (however innocently) with another dude—especially the ones that were nothing like Eddie.

It only reminded him that he never had a shot in hell.

“Isn’t the tally evidence enough of my failures?” Steve whined, but he was already moving to take the picture.

“Nope!” Robin said, smacking her lips for emphasis. “Because you could secretly erase some and we both know I’d forget it. Plus, this is the second time you got nothing but a blank stare outta that guy. So. Photo, please!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbled, then snapped a picture of Robin holding up the board with a broad smile, and Eddie doing his best not to look like a complete grump about it. Somehow, despite this whole thing being at his expense, Steve still managed to drop the camera from his face with a small smile.

“So, what are we doing tonight?”

———

Robin decided she wouldn’t be joining Steve and Eddie in hanging out at the trailer for the night, because she “didn’t care about getting high nearly as much” as they did, apparently. Instead, she was going to whatever Sapphic movie night Barb and Nance had planned, to which no boys were invited.

Eddie didn’t mind, considering that meant he got Steve to himself. Since Wayne was out at his weekly poker game, they opted to give in to Robin’s assumptions and smoke. Not that Wayne really would have cared, but Eddie liked to give his uncle the option of turning a blind eye when he could.

“Since when do you pout in pictures more than Robin or Max?” Steve asked as Eddie rolled them a joint, killing time by looking through the photos from their shift today.

Since I’m sick of watching you flirt with anyone who isn’t me, Eddie answered honestly in his own head. When he opened his mouth, though, lies poured out.

“I’m starting to feel sorry for your lack of game, man,” Eddie said with a blinding smile. “At some point the board just starts to feel like bullying.”

“I’m fine, Eds,” Steve snorted, clearly unbothered. “But thank you for your concern. Now let me get a better shot of you.”

Eddie sighed, but then relented and gave Steve a fond smile. “Fine.”

After his second bout with the creepy crawlies of the Upside Down last fall (Eddie’s first), Steve had taken to photography as a hobby, and started documenting everything he could in film. Steve said it helped with his nightmares, at first, to be able to look back on the group making good memories while trying to work through the shit ones. Eventually he admitted to Eddie that it was also because he wanted to capture everything good, in case they all died tomorrow.

Jonathan still did most of the heavy lifting there, but Steve carried his own camera around with him almost everywhere, now. Then, once they’d all started at Scoops, he’d swiped his dad’s Polaroid specially just to keep it in his work locker over the summer. He spent entirely too much money on film, despite Robin’s frequent protestations.

“Stop wasting all of your money on the same photos of the kids laughing at us in our uniforms,” she’d say every time Steve came back from spending his break in the camera repair shop restocking on film.

“It’s memories, Rob,” Steve would sigh and reload the camera. “You can’t put a price on those.”

Eddie and Robin would usually exchange a glance imparting their desire to give Steve a lesson in being poor, and pronto, but neither of them really had the heart to do it.

Steve loved that damn camera, though, and Eddie had long ago established that he couldn’t deny Steve anything. So Eddie sat back, trying not to be self conscious as Steve once more studied him through the lens of a camera. His favorite seemed to be trying to catch arty shots of Eddie blowing smoke out of his nostrils, and looking like the burnout that he was.

Much like the Scoops Cam stayed at work, the one Steve was using now tended to hang out on Eddie’s nightstand most of the time. It was a testament to how much time Steve spent at the trailer, if anything. The thought made Eddie smile, and Steve tutted happily at however it looked through the viewfinder. Eddie tried not to run away with delusions of grandeur about what that could mean, but he felt all warm over it anyway.

Eventually Steve seemed pretty satisfied with what he captured, so he set the camera aside, presumably for the next time he came over.

“You were grumpy today,” Steve said, waving the post-flirting Polaroid from earlier in Eddie’s face. Eddie slapped his hand away, but couldn’t keep his face straight. He couldn’t keep anything straight.

“I just don’t understand how you find that preppy asshole attractive,” Eddie said around a lungful of smoke, staring Steve down as best he could, considering they were sitting eye-to-eye on the floor.

“What,” Steve drawled, making grabby hands for the joint until Eddie passed it over. He seemed completely unbothered by the fact that Eddie found his crush on the Jazzercise guy distasteful. “You’ve never been attracted to a preppy asshole before?”

Just you, Eddie thought, grateful that the weed hadn’t loosened his lips enough to let the words spill out into the sticky-sweet ether between them. Eddie had been hopelessly in love with Steve for no less than eight months, now. But who was counting?

“Can’t say that I have,” Eddie lied. Though, was it technically a lie, if he didn’t think Steve was an asshole anymore? Eddie took the technicality and ran with it, but he almost thought there might’ve been a hint of disappointment on Steve’s face. Eddie told himself that was just wishful thinking on his part.

“I just think he looks nice in those shorts, is all,” Steve shrugged before finally taking a drag.

Eddie was really starting to think he’d miscalculated, opting to work the summer at Scoops. Not only was the job shit—the only non-Steve-and-Robin related reason he even remotely enjoyed it was because Erica would come in and boss everyone around, and he would give her shit about the evils of capitalism and watch her nose scrunch up—but it also required watching Steve flirt with and ogle all the customers, regardless of gender, and drive Eddie nuttier than a scoop of butter pecan over it.

The only reason Eddie had any semblance of sanity left was because Steve usually struck out. Or, pretty much always. It was almost like Steve was flirting badly on purpose, some days. And then he’d come home with Eddie anyway. They’d watch movies or get high, fucking around and making fun of whoever had worse sailor-hat hair at the end of the day. It was nice.

Eddie was a real goner, was the point, and he resented the aerobics instructor guy. And his shorts. Eddie had shorts, too, goddamnit.

“He’s not even gay,” Eddie scoffed, flopping backwards to lay flat on the floor of his bedroom. Sometimes he and Steve would lay sprawled across his bed, or stay in the living room where things felt safer, but tonight it was too hot to be anywhere but on the floor. At least down there, Eddie could catch a little bit of a draft from the rickety old air conditioner that was valiantly chugging along to cool the whole trailer. “He just likes watching sweaty women bounce around for a living.”

“Don’t talk about my soulmate like that,” Steve scoffed. He nudged Eddie’s hip with his foot, then laid beside him on the floor, facing in the opposite direction as Eddie. Steve propped his feet up on the bed, then twisted is face to look at Eddie’s, practically pillowing his head on Eddie’s chest as he did. He smirked like he was proud of his joke.

Eddie knew Steve was just kidding around. If anyone was Steve’s soulmate, after all, it was Robin. Eddie was almost used to that jealous demon that lived in the back of his brain, resenting his status as the spare friend in the trio. It was silly and Eddie knew it, especially since he loved the fuck out of Robin. But even in jest, Steve’s comment plunged Eddie into a river of envy. What about me? The demon cried, scraping along the recesses of Eddie’s mind and demanding to be acknowledged.

Eddie did his best to shush it, listening instead to the Judas Priest record he’d put on because somehow, someway, Steve had come to love it.

“Take me now, in your arms, let me rest, safe from harm,” Steve sang along to Hear Come the Tears. The lingering smoke made his voice scratch in just the right kind of delectable way that left the demon doing backflips in Eddie’s mind. “Oh I want to be loved.”

Another thing Eddie had learned about Steve, since his reformation of character had started sometime last year, was that he got handsy when he was high. He took one of Eddie’s hands into his own, then firmly pressed the joint into it. Steve didn’t let go when Eddie’s fingers grasped around it, either. Instead he started playing with Eddie’s rings.

“This one new?” Steve asked, voice low and buzzing right through Eddie’s ribcage.

It wasn’t new, but Eddie couldn’t blame Steve for thinking so. He hardly ever wore the bat carved of silver that Steve was still lazily twisting around Eddie’s index finger. It was one of the first rings he’d ever bought for himself, but once he got his bat tattoo, he thought maybe wearing the ring was overkill. Most of the time, anyway.

That all hardly seemed relevant when Steve was basically holding Eddie’s hand, and noticing little details about him that no one else ever did.

“No, but I don’t wear it much,” Eddie answered, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

“Pretty,” Steve hummed. He stopped playing with the ring and moved to tickle the back of Eddie’s hand with soft fingers, instead.

“It’s probably better suited for you, then,” Eddie admitted aloud, and Steve turned a bashful shade of pink.

That was the other thing about Steve when he got high. He was more prone to blushing.

“Alright,” Steve said with a sly grin, before slipping the ring off Eddie’s finger in a rush. Then he sat back up, crossing his legs beneath him as he put it on himself. He held his hand out in front of his face, assessing. “Oh, yeah. I like it.”

Steve had taken things much too literally, and Eddie saw fit to correct it.

“Gimme it back, you thief!” Eddie cried, snatching for Steve’s hand again. Steve was too quick for him, though, and all Eddie achieved was grazing his fingertips across the heated skin of Steve’s forearm as he dashed out of Eddie’s grasp.

Carefully, Eddie snubbed out what was left of the joint in the ashtray, then scrambled upright and dove at Steve.

For maybe thirty seconds, Eddie had the upper hand. He’d managed to get a grip around Steve’s wrist, and the hand that now housed Eddie’s stolen ring. But once Eddie realized he was practically straddling Steve’s lap, knees locked on either sides of his thighs in a death grip, Eddie was momentarily distracted from his goal. He fumbled sliding the ring off Steve’s finger, accidentally tossing it until it rolled under Eddie’s bed.

Instead of going after it, though, Steve took the opportunity to wrestle Eddie to the floor. In half a stuttered heartbeat on Eddie’s part, he was under the whole weight of Steve, wrists pinned in a surprisingly gentle but firm grip on either side of his head.

Steve laughed above him, pressed so close that Eddie could feel the way Steve’s chest contracted and then swelled again as he breathed. Eddie didn’t know where to look first—the flop of Steve’s hair that hung down between them, the curve of Steve’s perfect mouth, curling up in a self-satisfied smile, or the way Steve’s glassy eyes still sparkled as he looked down at Eddie with a quiet confidence that was driving him wild.

Eddie didn’t know how Steve was still this strong while impaired, but if he didn’t get out from under him soon, Eddie knew there’d be a problem somewhere south of his belt loops to deal with between them. He tried not to wiggle his hips too much as he attempted to break free of Steve’s grasp, but it was no use. Steve only smirked down at him, completely focused on Eddie’s face alone.

“I win,” Steve murmured, then deliberately let his gaze drop to Eddie’s lips.

Eddie felt like he might be hallucinating, to the point where he wondered if Reefer Rick had given him a particularly weird strain, or something, last time they did a deal.

Especially when Steve then darted his tongue across his own bottom lip, a brief flash of wet pink that left Eddie floating, despite being pinned to the ground.

“You—” Eddie began, but the creak of the trailer door opening shocked them both out of whatever had been brewing between them. Steve let go of Eddie in an instant, sitting up and running his hands through his hair as Wayne grunted out, “Ed?” from the living room.

“Back here, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie said, sounding completely dazed.

Wayne poked his head into Eddie’s room and smirked down at him, still sprawled on the floor and probably looking—and smelling—high as a kite. Then Wayne waved at Steve, and said, “When you get the munchies, don’t eat my chips.”

Wayne was gone as fast as he’d come, probably to watch TV and have a beer, but he’d altered the vibe significantly. Steve reeled in whatever had started to peek free just a few moments before, sighed, and snatched the bat ring from under the bed. He handed it back willingly.

“You can wear it,” Eddie tried, but Steve shook his head.

“It’s more your style, anyway,” he said, sounding a little sad about it. Eddie didn’t know what to say in reply, so he silently took the ring and slid it back on his finger.

“The chips might be off the table,” Eddie said, feeling a devilish grin creep onto his face and hoping it would draw Steve back out of whatever shell he’d shrunk into. “But he didn’t say shit about his banana popsicles.”

“I like the way you think, Munson,” Steve smiled back, then they both darted for the freezer in perfect sync.

———

For his next shift with Steve, Eddie was trying not to act weird after whatever the hell had happened in the trailer the night before. He was determined not to get distant or awkward about it, or make Steve feel self-conscious. He didn’t want to be too touchy afterwards either, though, and make Steve assume that Eddie was expecting anything from him.

But that didn’t mean Eddie wasn’t flirting. Eddie was a flirt by nature, after all. It would seem weirder if he didn’t.

“Ahoy, sailor!” Eddie heartily whistled in appreciation just when Steve arrived in all of his short-shorts glory—all in the name of keeping up appearances, of course.

Steve shuffled around a little uneasily in response instead of returning the sentiment, like he normally would have. Robin, who was sitting with Eddie at the table in the ‘captain’s quarters’, squinted at him in question. Eddie shrugged.

“Didn’t get enough beauty sleep?” she asked Steve.

“Huh?” he responded distantly, trying to fix his hat to his hair in a gentle enough way so it wouldn’t flatten what Steve thought was his best feature. (Eddie thought Steve’s best feature was probably his perfectly kissable mouth, or his big brown eyes that Eddie frequently found himself getting lost in, or even that little constellation of moles on his neck that Eddie wanted to bite. But that was neither here nor there.)

“You seem…fidgety,” Robin pointed out.

“Oh. I’m fine,” Steve tried for an unaffected shrug, but it looked more jerky and stilted than anything.

Eddie was doing his level best not to assume that was about him. But considering the fact that Eddie was almost certain Steve had wanted to kiss him the night before, even after the haze of smoke had cleared from his judgment making skills, he didn’t really think it was a coincidence.

Robin seemed to agree that this was between Steve and Eddie, as she started eyeing Eddie suspiciously again. If her face hadn’t been full of questions, Eddie would've assumed Steve had already told her what was going on with him. The fact that he hadn’t only worried Eddie further. Since when did Steve not share every thought in his head with Robin?

Had Eddie seemed too eager last night, maybe? Had Steve sussed out how deep Eddie’s feelings actually ran? Maybe now he wanted to put an extra bit of distance between them, because to Steve it wasn’t that serious. Eddie wanted to kick himself at the thought.

If distance was what Steve wanted, Robin wasn’t allowing for it. Her solution was to find every excuse to stick Eddie and Steve in the back room together most of the afternoon, doing tedious tasks while Robin worked out front. Her excuse was that it was a “slow day” anyway.

So Eddie tried to act as normal as possible in the hopes of signaling that everything between them was fine, whatever Steve’s worries might be. But every time Eddie tried to strike up a conversation, Steve didn’t give him much back by way of response.

“Do you know what happened after the kids snuck in to see Day of the Dead the other night?” Eddie asked, hoping the temptation to gossip might spur Steve into talking. One of their favorite topics of the summer so far had been speculating on what seemed like a gay little love triangle forming between Mike, Eleven, and Will.

“Not really,” Steve shrugged noncommittally.

“At the very least you’d think we might’ve gotten some innocent hand-holding,” Eddie mused.

“Maybe,” Steve merely grunted in response.

Eddie bit his tongue for a while after that, and began to consider if whatever was going on in Steve’s head had nothing to do with him at all. Eddie knew Steve’s parents were in town, and that usually led to most of Steve’s grumpiest moods. Maybe all he needed was the promise of not having to go back to a house he hated after getting off from a job he also hated.

“Hey, you wanna come over tonight?” Eddie offered eventually, then wondered if maybe he should give it more of a veneer of friendship, just in case. “We can probably entice Robin into coming if we let her pick a movie. You guys can stay over, even.”

“Maybe,” Steve finally smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Eddie thought he might finally be on the right track, but Steve dipped away again. “I should go check on Robin.”

Eddie tried not to pout in Steve’s absence.

He also wasn’t one to give up in the face of a frowning Steve Harrington, so for the rest of their shift he kept trying to do all the things he knew would make Steve laugh. At first, Steve didn’t seem all that impressed with Eddie’s walking him through the several layers of monstrous traps he was laying for the boys’ first official Hellfire campaign, so Eddie switched to stronger tactics. He moved on to his impersonation of Hopper going full Hulk and threatening to kill Mike in new and creative ways, which did earn a pinched smile out of Steve, at least.

But when Steve’s favorite bit—Eddie’s acting out his own mascot creation, Scoop, who was a pirate with spoons for fingers—didn’t do much more than eke a small chuckle out of him, Eddie was just about ready to throw in the towel and ask what the hell was the matter.

That was when they heard the unmistakable sound of Dustin Henderson’s arrival, however.

Steve turned to Eddie with wide eyes, matching Eddie’s in excitement. If Dustin’s long anticipated return from camp couldn’t cheer Steve up, nothing would.

“Steve, Eddie!” Robin called back to them both. “Your child is here!”

“Don’t act like you don’t love me, too, Robin Buckley,” Dustin said, accompanied by that bizarre purring noise he liked to make.

Steve and Eddie simultaneously sprung into action. Eddie led the way out of the swinging door to the front, with Steve hot on his heels and his hands squeezing Eddie’s shoulders in delight.

“Henderson!” They both chorused, as Dustin broke out in a wide, gummy grin upon seeing them. They all launched towards each other, and Steve quite literally squealed, “He’s back!”

Then the three of them immediately proceeded into their complex secret handshake, while Robin looked on in bewilderment. It didn’t matter how many times she’d seen them practice it in minute detail, apparently, it still made her wrinkle her nose in secondhand embarrassment.

Eddie didn’t care. He’d missed Henderson more than he ever expected he would have of a fourteen year old hellion, but Dustin had that effect on him and Steve both. In the months since they’d tracked down a baby fucking demogorgon together, the three of them had only grown further attached.

So when Dustin immediately jumped to exclaiming “We have so much to talk about,” Eddie and Steve didn’t hesitate to set aside the weird vibe between them and buy Dustin a USS Butterscotch.

Twenty minutes later, the two of them had listened to Dustin talk about his “camp girlfriend” ad nauseam, while exchanging a healthy amount of skeptical looks between them. Steve didn’t entirely seem to believe that Suzie was real, and Eddie was mostly with him, but there was something dreamy in the way Dustin talked that Eddie felt a kinship with.

It reminded him how he felt around Steve.

All that went out the window, though, when Dustin started yammering about intercepting secret Russian codes.

“We can be true, American heroes, guys!” Dustin finished his lengthy speech about saving the world, like he hadn’t done enough of that already.

Eddie was beyond skeptical now, but Steve seemed amused, so he played along.

“Heroes, eh?” Eddie asked, casually spinning his sailor cap around in his hands.

“Yes! It’ll be great, I swear. And once we are, you two can have all the ladies you want, and more. As long as her name isn’t Suzie,” Dustin promised them both. It was sincere, if admittedly a little creepy and off base.

Eddie darted a quick glance towards Steve, who obviously found the irony in Dustin’s promising the ladies to Eddie, of all people. He chuckled lightly as he gave Eddie a knowing look, like he was thrilled to know Eddie’s secrets, before breaking eye contact and turning back to Dustin.

“Yeah, alright,” he nodded. “How can we help?”

(part two should be coming with tomorrow's prompts!)

[PART TWO] [PART THREE]

#it's officially past midnight est and if I don't post this before I go to bed I'll forget so #happy day 4!#yes the Fall Out Boy powered Steddie brainworm has indeed infected me as well #hence the title #steddie #steddieweek2023 #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dani's drafts #stranger things #petals!verse

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