A combo of 18 and 10? At some point Steve is told by Eddie's band mates that Eddie told them he doesn't actually like Steve. It's been a while but Steve still loves Eddie and wants to pretend for a night that it isn't true.
Okay, so I know you probably meant for this to be more angsty but I'm a fucking marshmallow and had to slip in the happy ending hfdjsk
Either way, I hope there's still enough angst for you!
Also, for reference, I usually call the unnamed freak Asher, so don't be surprised by the name lol
Prompts 18 and 10 from this prompt list:
10. “Let me call you mine, just for tonight.”
18. “Is hating me your only personality trait?”
You'll want to read the tags btw, I promise lol
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"You know, Eddie doesn't actually like you."
Steve blinks, his pen dragging across the page and striking ink through Will's carefully written campaign story that he'd asked Steve to review. According to him, Steve was neutral, and his lack of D&D knowledge meant he'd be able to tell Will if the story made sense even to a new player.
Unfortunately, any thoughts of Will's campaign are disintegrated by Gareth's seven words. "What?" he asks, trying to blink away the daze as he looks at the rest of Corroded Coffin across the garage. He doesn't usually step foot into their practice space, but he and Eddie had plans to hang out after practice and Jonathan had helpfully dropped him off. Now he was just waiting for Eddie to get back from the bathroom.
"Eddie," Jeff says, "he doesn't like you. He told us."
"He won't fucking shut up about it, actually," Asher says, a grin tugging at his lips, and Steve thinks it looks particularly cruel.
In fact, their words so far have held an undertone of anticipation, like they were waiting for Steve's reaction. As cliche as it sounds, their grins feel like knives stabbing into him. It's not just his heart, it's Steve's entire body, like every inch of his being had only existed on the premise that Eddie Munson liked him at least a little bit. Not even romantically (Steve isn't that deluded), but as a friend.
"He...," Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, trying to keep his voice from breaking. Apparently, he doesn't do well, since Jeff's grin widens and Gareth's eyes light up, and Asher opens his mouth like he's ready to hammer the final nail in Steve's coffin.
Whatever they plan to say next is interrupted by Eddie finally returning and grinning at Steve. "Ready to go, Stevie?" he asks.
Suddenly the grin is mean, the nickname cruelly teasing, and Steve wonders how he went so long deluding himself that Eddie liked him. It hurts even more with his bandmates' words still playing in his head and their grins hidden behind Eddie's back like they're proud of breaking Steve's delusion.
"Uh, yeah, ready," Steve says, forcing his voice to sound normal as he closes Will's campaign notebook and follows Eddie to his van.
By the time they end the night at the Munson trailer, Steve feels frayed at the edges and three seconds from tearing in two. The entire evening, all he could think about was how much Eddie seemed to be covering his own dislike and how it bled through anyway. Every smile was sharp, every casual touch seemed hesitant and quick to end like Eddie couldn't pull away fast enough, and every glance seemed to pierce Steve with dislike and reinforce the shattering of his delusion.
At least the weed Eddie gave him when they got to his room is helping a little. It's filling his lungs with something other than hurt, clouding his mind with something other than doubt. It even stops the questions and stops him from wondering what he could have possibly done to make Eddie play some kind of long-con instead of just saying he didn't like Steve.
"Heeelloooo," Eddie says, waving his hand in front of Steve's face. "Anything going on in there, big boy?"
Steve blinks, his chest tightening as he looks up at Eddie. They're on the bed, with Eddie sitting next to him while Steve reclines against the pillows, his usual position that lets him stare at the ceiling. That mean grin is back, and Steve once again wonders how he ever mistook it for anything else. The words, too. How did he ever mistake those words for playful teasing?
And maybe it's the weed, but Steve can't stop himself from sitting up and asking, "Is hating me your only personality trait when we're together?" It's not even relevant. Steve knows that. He knows that Eddie hasn't done anything overtly hateful, but he can't help asking.
Eddie's grin falters. "Woah, woah, what are you talking about?"
"Why do you even hang out with me if you hate me so much?" Steve asks, steamrolling over whatever Eddie wanted to say by grabbing him by the shoulders. "Why don't you just tell me to fuck off? Why do you hang out with someone you don't even like? Is it funny to you? Do you enjoy tricking me?"
His voice is cracking by the end, and Eddie's eyes are wide, undoubtedly surprised that he's been caught in the act. And this time it's definitely the weed clouding Steve's mind and making him act on impulse because he can't be bothered to think as he grabs the collar of Eddie's jacket and pulls him closer. "You can punch me later, or run me over with your van if you hate me that much. But...but right now, just let me pretend I can call you mine, just for tonight."
Before Eddie can respond, before he can tell Steve to fuck off and kick him out of the trailer, Steve kisses him. Their teeth clack together painfully, and Steve is sure his lip has started bleeding, but he doesn't care. He's more focused on keeping his eyes squeezed shut, forcing his brain to delude him into thinking this is a happier kiss, that his eyes aren't stinging and two seconds from making the kiss salty.
They stay in an admittedly uncomfortable position for a few seconds before Eddie grabs Steve's waist and pushes him down against the pillows. Steve's surprised grunt is muffled by Eddie pushing his tongue past his lips, and he only has a brief moment to be relieved that Eddie is playing along when he suddenly pinches Steve's side and breaks the kiss.
Steve winces and opens his eyes, his body tensing when he sees Eddie staring down at him. The only thing he can hear is his own panting and the sirens screaming in his brain that he's truly, irrevocably fucked everything up.
"So," Eddie says, his voice surprisingly soft for someone about to rip Steve's heart out, "where'd you get the idea that I hate you?"
Steve shuts his mouth, biting his tongue as he looks away. That doesn't help much, though, since Eddie's hair has fallen around him in a wavy curtain that obscures his view of anything else. A few moments pass before Steve shifts uncomfortably and replies, "Your friends told me."
Eddie hums softly, holding himself steady with one arm on the pillow by Steve's head while the other tugs on a lock of Steve's hair. And it's only now that Steve realizes he's fucking surrounded, pressed into Eddie's mattress by Eddie's body with Eddie's hair cutting him off from the rest of the room. "And what, exactly, did they say, Stevie?" Eddie asks, his tone sharp and dancing like this entire situation is funny to him.
It's enough to distract Steve, leading his brain to lag behind as he tries desperately to remember what Gareth, Jeff, and Asher said. "You don't actually like me. You told them yourself. You won't shut up about not liking me," Steve finally says.
Something like recognition really sparks in Eddie's eyes, and his grin falls slightly. He looks ready to speak, but then he thinks better of it. His smile comes back, nearly full force, and he says, "They're right. I don't like you."
Oh. Steve acutely feels the breath get stolen out of his lungs, the way they ache as his heart sears with the pain of being ripped from his chest. His eyes are stinging even worse, and his nose feels astringent like he just walked into a bathroom with bleach spilled across the floor.
"I love you."
Steve blinks. "What?"
"I love you."
Yeah, it still doesn't make sense. "...are you sure?"
Eddie bursts out laughing, finally letting all his weight fall onto Steve so he can bury his face in Steve's shoulder. Steve is still blindsided, trying to get his brain and heart to get on the same page.
"Yes, I'm serious," Eddie says, raising his head to look at Steve. "I can guarantee they were fucking with you. If I hadn't come back, those fuckers would've revealed my massive crush on you."
"Massive," Steve mumbles, cursing the weed for inhibiting his ability to think properly.
Eddie's grin gets even wider, his eyes lighting up in a way that tells Steve he's about to roll his eyes at a dumb joke. "Yeah, almost as massive as I am," Eddie says, playfully grinding his hips down on Steve like their jeans aren't in the way.
Steve was right. He does roll his eyes. And it helps him shake some of the daze, allows him to pull himself out of the fog of doubt and spiraling thoughts. "Fuck off," he says, placing a hand on Eddie's face and pushing him away.
"Well, if you insist," Eddie says playfully, exaggerating movements of getting up only for Steve to grab his arm and pull him back. "You're really giving me mixed signals here, sweetheart."
"You really love me?" Steve asks, ignoring Eddie's joke.
"Of course, Stevie. What's not to love?"
And there's such genuine emotion in Eddie's voice that Steve represses the urge to ask if he wants the list in chronological or alphabetical order. "Okay, then you can't be angry when I fucking murder your friends."
Eddie laughs and pushes his head into Steve's neck like a cat, playfully biting his throat. "I'll help you."
"Are we moving too fast by plotting murder for our first date?"
"We went through an Eldritch nightmare together, sweetheart."
Steve concedes to that point, reaching up and idly running his fingers through Eddie's hair. They occasionally snag on a few tangles, and Steve resists the urge to get a hairbrush. "Right," he says, a smile tugging at his lips, "then we should plan a romantic murder date."
And Steve feels Eddie's smile on his skin, tries to commit the sensation to memory, and feels immeasurable relief at the fact that it won't be the last time Eddie smiles against him like this.
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