#madaboutmunsonSHC

[madaboutmunson]

For my fic Sweet Home Chicago set in 1959

I had two wonderful commissions done by the amazing Drac_Harrington on Instagram.

We’ve got Chicago Steve and Hawkins ‘Rebel’ Eddie

[madaboutmunson]

In The Still Of The Night (Sweet Home Chicago Series - Part 4/4)

This series is now complete!

Summary for overview of the whole fic can be found here

For @eddiemonth 2023

Week 4 prompts used: Eager, Earnest, Drama, Melancoly (a drop), Hopeful Week 5 prompts used: Haunted House, Frantic, I Put A Spell On You - Screamin' Jay Hawkins, Costumes, Protective

Warnings: Brief mentions of creepy haunted house things, masks, dolls, spiders. A short moment of claustrophobia, which is eased and resolved.

Summary:

Halloween night, 1959. Eddie Munson built the haunted house, but he wasn’t prepared for the real ghosts...whispers in the dark, stolen glances, and the feeling that something is slipping through his fingers. By the time the night takes them from flickering candlelight to the glow of a hidden nightclub, Eddie is faced with something far scarier than ghosts...the truth. Because some things feel too perfect to be real.

And some moments change everything.

Romance/Fluff Word Count : 18.7K

Ao3 Link -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie flicks up the collar of the borrowed trenchcoat against the wind howling down the street, as they stood outside the decrepit old place. “Dustin, are you sure about this? It looks like this place might fall apart if one of us sneezed,” Robin complained, folding her arms so that some of her scarecrow straw got bent. Dustin waved a dismissive hand at her. “Look, if you want to chicken out and go trick-or-treating with Max, that's up to you. Lucas said the scavenger hunt here was amazing last year, and Eddie managed to land it for us this year.” “Well, my mom really,” Eddie corrected.

He had ventured out to Maxwell Street with his mom when she went to buy some new tools, hardware, and fasteners. Maxwell Street, in 1959 Chicago, was a vibrant stretch of market stalls, bustling with energy. The air was thick with the mingling scents of a cornucopia of foods, diesel exhaust, ground metal, and polish. Vendors called out their wares, and the chatter of pedestrians added to the symphony of the street, making it feel alive and full of possibility. Esmeralda shopped around for anything unique but kept to her regular stall for her staples.

“Loyalty’ll get you places, kid,” she said, eyeing the goods. “You keep your word, you work hard, and in this city, that’s worth more than gold. Too many people out here looking to line their pockets, and you know what? They’ll throw you under the bus for a buck. You hear me? If something looks too good to be true, it’s probably a con.”

Eddie nodded his understanding and helped carry her shopping.

“Hey, Freddie! Hey, Guiliana!” His mom called out, receiving a wave from the front of the stall for them to ring up her purchases.

“Well, well, look who’s back in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Munson herself! Been a minute, huh?” The stout man with slicked-back, receding hair and tattooed forearms beamed at his mother and looked Eddie over. “This the kid?"

His mom nodded proudly. “Yeah, this is my Eddie,” she said, bundling his face in her hands and kissing his cheek hard. Eddie pretended to hate it, pulling a face, but his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t help but smile, despite the embarrassing public display. It was a love and acceptance he’d always wanted. He quickly glanced at Freddie, catching his teasing grin, and he could feel the warmth spreading across his cheeks.

“Oh, Ezzy, honey! He looks just like ya! Doesn’t he, Fred?” The woman with a baby on her hip exclaimed and beamed at him. Eddie looked away, the blush creeping further down his cheeks from the compliment, and started having a look through some of the Halloween decorations.

“He sure does. Is he gonna be taking up the family business?” Freddie asked as he bagged up the screws and nails.

“Undetermined. He’s working at Harrington’s at the moment, but I sure hope we can get him in a nice office somewhere if we can get him his dream. He’s a creative type. Writer, artist, musician. You know the type, Freddie, the ones sending this city to ruin,” Eddie’s mom teased with a wink, sending Guiliana into a loud chuckle.

“Sounds like the boys in the bar have been gossiping again, huh, baby?” His wife laughed, and her husband’s cheeks reddened.

It wasn’t exactly clear to Eddie why, after all that talk of loyalty and such, his mom had embarrassed the man adding up her total.

“Well, I didn’t mean your boy. I just mean the ones spilling out of the blues clubs and university,” Freddie defended and looked over to Eddie with a friendly nod, his voice softer. “Harrington’s, huh? You all set for Halloween? I could throw in a few decorations if you wanted?”

“Hmmm, well, you might be able to help us with something. You still got that place in the back of the market? The one I sorted the plumbing on? Eddie here could decorate it for ya for Christmas, brighten up the place, providing you let him and his friends use it one night for a few hours. Save you and Lana a few hours, right?”

Eddie perked up at his name. He used to help Wayne decorate a lot of the trailers where they lived, just so everyone had decorations up.

“I ain’t so sure about a bunch of teens using that place for a few hours if you know what I mean?” Freddie said, handing over the total to Esmeralda.

“Freddie. It’s the Harrington kids, and Eddie here, it’s just for a few hours on Halloween night. Not late. No funny business. Right, Eddie?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed enthusiastically, finally picking up on the deal his mom was laying down.

Three sets of eyes trained hopefully on Freddie, and he didn’t look convinced.

“You know Fred, if Eddie’s doing the decorating of the old place, and Carla here is at her Nana’s, that’d give us-”

“Sold! I mean, deal!” Freddie said enthusiastically at Eddie and his mom. “I’ll grab you the key, buddy. Two shakes of a tail.” He rustled about in a toolbox behind him.

Guiliana and Esmeralda exchanged mischievous smiles, and Eddie had to hide his laughter.

Freddie handed over the key to Eddie’s mom, and they went on their way.

“I get why Freddie was so enthusiastic about not decorating, but why his wife?” Eddie whispered when they were out of earshot.

“Well, Eddie, I thought you were a modern man. Women can enjoy alone time with their spouse just as much as men can.”

Eddie turned crimson. “Oh my god, Mom, no, I didn’t mean that, but is that why?”

She laughed loudly. “Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t resist. It’s actually because Freddie is not a decorator and usually injures himself every Christmas Eve decorating that place. He won’t ask for any help and leaves it until the last minute! You’re basically ensuring her husband is able-bodied for Christmas,” she smiled. “But in more important news, we got you a venue for Halloween, huh? I know he’s hired it out before, and I can help you set up and decorate if you want. Unless, of course, you wanna ask Steve?” She offered, but Eddie didn’t miss the mischievous grin on her face.

“Hey now, come on, that’s not fair,” he was embarrassed about his crush on Steve being so obvious, but lately, it had seemed pointless to hide it from his mom. She could read him like a book, and she wasn’t going to tell a soul. Even if it would never happen, having crushes could be fun, or so she said. Sometimes, it felt like torture. “Think I could pull off somethin’ real cool, surprise Steve, you know?”

“You think he won’t notice you not being around?” Esmeralda scoffed out a laugh.

“Oh. Right. Well, maybe I can tell him what I’m doing, just not tell him the details.”

Eddie couldn't believe his mom had taken such a risk teasing Freddie, just to get him and his friends a place for Halloween. It was pretty risky, especially since Freddie was her main supplier for work essentials. Though maybe he had underestimated his mom and the connections, bonds, and rapport she had built through her own hard work. She always had a way of knowing exactly what he needed, even when he didn’t, and this was no exception. Maybe this Halloween thing wasn’t just about a party or the decorations. It was about their bond. Something they could work on together.

And so, it had happened that way. Eddie had let Steve know that, though the original place Nancy had suggested had fallen through, this new place was an option. Steve had all but tackled him to the ground in excitement, and called Nancy, all of Hellfire, and ran upstairs to tell all the other Harringtons.

Eddie and his mom worked hard on the place for a few weeks in their spare time, setting up surprises and decorations they found in the attic until the place looked like a minimalist, abandoned version of the House on Haunted Hill.

“I would go, but I don’t know where Max has got to, and Steve’s driving, and we all know he’s not going home early tonight,” she rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Ah speak of the devil and he will appear,” Dustin chirped happy to see Steve, but he frowned, “Where’s your costume?” “This is my costume,” Steve raised an eyebrow at him, “What exactly are you a baked potato?” “No, Steve. I’m a Robot. I was a pretty great Robot until I got crushed in the back of your car because you invited too many people!”

Eddie knew Steve’s costume even without seeing it in full. The boots, the deep blue jeans and white t-shirt, the way his hair was styled slightly differently, how his cigarette drooped lazily from his mouth. He was just missing the defining piece. Steve smiled at him broadly, “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” he said as a rumble of bikes approached and made him shout over them, “Bogart. Casablanca. Right?” Eddie nodded enthusiastically, unable to peel his eyes from Steve’s, “Dean. Rebel without a cause. Right?” he replied without needing to check over the outfit. Steve’s eyes searched Eddie’s and took a drag on his cigarette, “See Dustin, Eddie knew it right away. You like that movie, Ed? It's one of my fav-” Steve started to say as he approached Eddie but was cut off by the rapid sound of heels on the pavement, and a tackled hug, from a human-sized black cat. “I got the windbreaker you asked for!” Nancy smiled up at Steve and he sighed and beamed right back at her, and Eddie felt like a thumbprint in a perfect cake, and stepped back, only to bump into Jonny from the Hellfire Club. “Hey man, neat costume. Nance! Come and look at Ed’s costume its like he pulled it straight off the movie screen or somethin’!” he marvelled and patted Eddie on the shoulder as Nancy ran back towards them, Steve paced after her a moment, and was stopped by Robin who pulled him to one side, as he slipped into the bright red jacket. His hat got ruffled and two arms surrounded his shoulders from Gareth and Jeff from Hellfire as they flanked him, “Heard you got some frights for us tonight, Ed,” Jeff grinned. “Now don’t feel bad if I don't react, I’m just tougher than the lot of ya. The effort is still appreciated, Munson,” Gareth added kissing Eddie’s Fedora, “And don’t mind if Argyle tries to befriend a skeleton or two. He’s, uh, just got a few new samples from his cousin. So he might be more space cadet than anything else tonight.” Eddie notices the Hellfire guys don't have costumes on, that is until Nancy hands them out some masks, and puts some mouse ears on Jonny, drawing him on some whiskers with a beauty pencil she dropped back in her bag. “Glad to see someone else made the effort,” Nancy smiled at Eddie and extended her hand, “Nice to meet you again.” Eddie awkwardly shook it, kissing her hand seemed a little way out of line, or maybe he just didn't want to, maybe he was a little jealous of how good her feline outfit looked. She laughed and Eddie didn't miss how Steve rushed over when she did and smiled at her fondly. “Yeah, not a great first impression. Sorry about that,” Eddie said sincerely, and Nancy shook her head. “Not at all. That drawing was great, and honestly, Billy is a total ass. Steve vouched for you. I knew you were an ok guy,” She smiled kindly at Eddie. That smile told Eddie everything he needed to know. He wasn’t blind, after all. Nancy Wheeler was easily the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. When her big baby-blue eyes landed on you, it was like the world paused for a second. There was a kind of quiet intensity in them, like she was studying you, analysing every little detail, like she could see straight through you. It would be almost unnerving if she wasn’t so beautiful. Her features were delicate, elegant, yet undeniably striking, framed perfectly by soft waves of brown hair that bounced lightly as she moved with grace. All in all, a recipe for easy disarmament of anyone’s defences.

Eddie wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t stupid either. He could see it. The way Steve’s gaze would linger on Nancy, the softness in his eyes when she smiled at him, the way he seemed to always have her back. Eddie knew the truth. Steve still had feelings for Nancy, and there was no question about it. How could no one else see it? Or maybe they did and just didn’t mention it? Not that it mattered. Eddie knew Steve was a pipe dream, a fantasy he’d created for himself, but the thought still stung in a way that Eddie couldn’t quite shake.

He could see Nancy for what she was. Funny, smart, kind, fierce. The total package. He could understand why Steve still carried a flame for her. And it wasn’t that Eddie had any ill feelings toward Nancy. Far from it. She was a force, someone anyone would be lucky to know. She didn’t just attract people; she fully enchanted them, probably without even trying.

He knew he and Steve were never meant to be, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t chase that dazzling smile or impress him tonight with a bit of creativity. Maybe if he leaned into the things Steve enjoyed about him, it could be a consolation prize of sorts. Something small to hold onto.

Steve’s voice broke his thoughts as he tugged Nancy toward the front door. “Come on, let’s go see what Eddie has planned for us.”

Eddie caught Jonny’s relaxed, unfazed expression and gave a small nod, his confusion quickly swept aside. This wasn’t the time to dwell on tangled feelings or what could never be. He decided to shelve the mess in his head for later. Tonight wasn’t about him or his emotions, it was about putting on a show.

Forcing a grin, he strode toward the house, adjusting his hat and lighting a cigarette. With a practised ease, he let himself slip into the role of the confident, charismatic host.

“Man, this place looks like it’s about to eat us,” Dustin muttered, glancing at Steve, who only smirked.

“That’s the idea, Dusty,” Eddie replied with a wink, puffing on his cigarette and letting the ember flare briefly in the gathering darkness.

“Ladies and, well, are there any gentlemen here?” he teased in his best Bogie impersonation, a playful chorus of boos sounding out from the guys making him break out into a smile, “Tonight we venture into a house of horrors,” he declared, his voice low and theatrical, “not for the faint of heart, so if any of you are a gutless wonder, better high tail it outta here before its too late!”

A nervous chuckle rippled through the group, and Eddie smiled to himself. He had them exactly where he wanted them. On edge but eager to see what lay ahead. “Take a good look at each other and the city. It could be the last time you ever see it.” As he turned to the house,  the teens began murmuring among themselves. The building loomed before them, a dark silhouette against the evening sky. It was a three-storey brick structure, with the windows boarded up, but there has been some attempt to add decorative shutters at some point to cover up that fact. Unfortunately, the only one that seemed to remain was hanging on by a hinge. The slightly warped door made it look like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for them to enter. With the key in hand, he pushed it into the lock, and though stiff, with a grunt of effort, which he overperformed for the group, the door creaked open beautifully to set the eerie mood. Eddie stepped in to make way for the others to enter, and the floor groaned underfoot. The entranceway smelled of dust and rotting wood. A single dangling light bulb in the hallway flickered on, which was his mom’s genius idea, casting a shaky glow over peeling, yellow, floral wallpaper. Eddie knew that beyond this mood-setting introduction to the house lay a rabbit’s warren of deserted rooms, purposefully broken fixtures, and furniture from times gone by that would give it an extra spooky setting for the teens. “Welcome,” Eddie said with a grin, his voice dropping into a dramatic rasp, “to your worst nightmare.” Gareth charged through first, and Jeff and Argyle were in tow. Nancy clung onto Jonny’s arm as he was next over the threshold. Last of all are the three Harringtons. Dustin raised his boxed foil-covered head and marvelled, “Whoa,” he said softly as he took in some of the details the older teens hadn’t. Reaching out to touch the netted cobwebs made of stretched fluffy cotton, toy spiders placed in them, the eerie painting on the wall of what should be a portrait but in place of a face was a skull only, only lit up by the flickering candle beneath it, and the smokey smell of burnt herbs coming from the abandoned fireplace, where there sat not logs but a pile of broken dolls, some with their eyes closed or missing save for one looking right out into the room, both bright eyes focused on the doorway they had just come through. “Oh! Jesus!,” Robin exclaimed as she made eye contact with the watchful resident of the fireplace, and turned abruptly towards Steve covering her eyes, bumping Steve firmly into Eddie, Steve's hand gripping onto Eddie’s arm as he stabilised himself with a bashful whisper of, “Shit, sorry, Ed.” “It's dark in here, it’ll happen,” Eddie smiled up at him from under the brim of his hat, Steve's hand released its grip and smoothed over the arm of his trenchcoat, and Eddie was in heaven, and immediately had to distract himself, “You doing ok, Robin? None of it's real it's all just pretend. I can turn the lights on or grab you a flashlight if it's too scary?” He asked and it was not a tease or patronising, he was completely sincere.

The kind offer got a giggle out of Dustin, and Robin’s demeanour completely changed, she frowned and stood up tall, towering over her little brother in her scarecrow hat, “Oh you just wait. I’m gonna make you scream this house down when you least expect it.” “Yeah, yeah I’d love to see you try and scare me,” Dustin scoffed and was immediately shoved lightly by Steve.

“Knock it off, you’re ruining the mood. It’s supposed to be creepy and scary, and it will be because Eddie set this up,” Steve said, smirking as he glanced at Eddie out of the corner of his eye. He gently ushered his siblings further into the dimly lit hallway. Eddie, watching the scene unfold, quietly closed the front door behind them and locked it, the click of the bolt echoing in the silence.

Steve placed a hand on Robin’s back, guiding her forward as they made their way down the dark corridor. Eddie noticed how, with a subtle movement, Robin’s hand slid up behind her and joined Steve’s. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but Eddie caught the way Steve’s fingers curled protectively around hers, keeping the gesture hidden from Dustin, who was too busy muttering to himself about the decorations to notice.

Ahead of them, muffled laughter and haunting noises drifted from the next room, where the Hellfire boys, Nancy, and Jonny had rushed ahead. Eddie could hear the occasional burst of giggles mingling with half-hearted groans.

Then came a sudden silence, followed by a sharp scream that sent a jolt through Eddie’s chest. He froze for a moment, straining to catch the voices that followed.

“Holy shit, it caught me off guard!” Gareth’s voice rang out, muffled but unmistakable, laced with complaint and laughter. It was hard to tell what had just happened, but the sharp thud that followed and the uproar of laughter suggested Gareth had fallen victim to one of Eddie’s traps.

“Help me up, you bunch of assholes!” Gareth shouted, and Eddie could imagine him sprawled on the floor, helpless as the rest of Hellfire doubled over in hysterics.

Steve glanced toward the direction of the noise, his eyebrows raised, before suddenly taking off, his pace quickening as he led Robin and Dustin toward the next room. Eddie followed, his heart quickening with a mix of amusement and unease. When they entered the room, it was eerily ordinary at first glance, its dark ambience transformed by Eddie’s careful handiwork. Worn chairs flanked a small table in the centre of the room, where a makeshift crystal ball sat. The orb, crafted from blown glass and shrouded in tattered fabric, glimmered faintly, casting distorted shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

The Hellfire boys’ muffled laughter grew quieter as they moved further into the house, their voices echoing from a room deeper inside. Nancy lingered behind, her expression bright as she glanced at Robin.

“It’s the music box,” Nancy explained, her voice low but amused. “When you open it, it triggers something.” She turned her attention to Eddie, her smile widening. “This setup is pretty neat,” she said with an approving nod before glancing at Steve.

Steve cleared his throat. “Uh, you guys went through the hallway too fast. You missed all the keen stuff. Want me to show you?”

Nancy nodded enthusiastically and looped her arm through Steve’s, pressing against his side. Eddie’s stomach knotted at the ease of her touch, the casual way she clung to him as if it were second nature. Jealousy itched at the edges of his mind. The sludge of envy swirled in his gut, even though he had no business being envious of what he could never have or who he could never be.

“Unless, of course, I’m stealing your protector away from you all?” Nancy teased, glancing meaningfully at Robin and Dustin. But when her sharp, analytical gaze landed on Eddie, he felt stripped bare, as if she could see straight through him.

He forced himself to act normal. “Hey, I set up this place. I know every single detail. I’m probably the best person to show Robin and Dustin around.” He smiled at the group, his voice steady despite the faint tension clawing at him. Before Robin could argue, Steve and Nancy had disappeared down the hallway, their whispers and giggles lingering in their wake.

Eddie turned to Dustin and Robin, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm to Robin. To his surprise, she took it without hesitation, her fingers curling lightly around his elbow.

But Steve and Nancy’s voices, those muffled, conspiratorial whispers, still reached Eddie’s ears. He couldn’t help but imagine the worst, and the thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

“You guys want to know what happened?” he asked, plastering on a big, warm smile in an effort to distract himself.

“Fuck yes!” Dustin exclaimed immediately. “You made Gareth nearly shit his pants. I need to know how you did it!”

“Language!” Robin chided, wrinkling her nose. She tightened her grip on Eddie’s arm and glanced up at him. “So, is something going to jump out at us?”

Eddie patted her arm with mock reassurance. “Yeah, sort of. Dustin, would you do the honours?” he said, gesturing toward the music box. As Dustin’s hand hovered over it, Eddie leaned toward Robin, speaking softly.

“The setup’s obvious,” he explained as he led Robin a little farther into the room. “See? There’s no way to get to the music box without walking around the table and doubling back. But when you do…” He paused, letting the suspense build as he turned Robin to face the table. “You’ll see a guest at the table. Don’t worry, it’s just foam shapes covered in black netting. Ready?”

Robin nodded, her wide eyes gleaming with nervous excitement. Eddie led her to the edge of the table, positioning her just right, before gesturing toward the shadowy figure slumped in one of the chairs. The dim light made it look disturbingly human.

“And now,” Eddie continued, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, “when Dustin steps closer to the music box…”

Dustin took a step forward, and the floorboard beneath him groaned ominously. Robin gasped, clutching Eddie’s arm tighter, while Dustin’s entire body shuddered in reflex.

“Oh, that’s creepy as heck,” Robin said with a nervous laugh.

Eddie grinned. “Then, when he opens the box…”

Dustin hesitated, then lifted the lid. The faint, tinkling melody filled the room as a plastic bat suddenly dropped from the ceiling, landing squarely on Dustin’s head. He let out a startled squeak, batting at it instinctively.

Robin burst into laughter, her tension breaking as Dustin carefully examined the bat, still wide-eyed. “Oh, that’s so good,” he said, shaking his head in reluctant admiration. He placed the bat back on the music box, where it retracted smoothly into the shadows above.

“Not bad, huh?” Eddie asked, looking at Robin.

She nodded approvingly, a playful smirk on her lips. “Yeah, not bad, I guess,” she teased. “Next room?”

Eddie hesitated, glancing toward the doorway where Steve and Nancy had disappeared. “Should we wait for them?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Nah, forget them,” Dustin said with a dismissive wave. “They’re a lost cause.”

Eddie forced a chuckle and led the way, doing his best to ignore the faint sounds of Steve and Nancy’s hushed voices trailing through the house.

The next room was much larger, which meant it was darker, but less cramped, the tightness of Robin’s grip on Eddie eased with it. He put his hand on hers, at which she looked a little confused but it settled as he patted it, “Listen, nothing in here is real. My mom and I checked the whole place out, and we staged all the creepy stuff. You’re safe. I wouldn’t have invited any of you here if it was unsafe. Sure it's old and creaky but Mom and I swung off these beams, and stomped all over the place.” He smiled, “I don't know if you’ve met my mama but she would not let me be in here if she was worried about it.” Robin nodded knowingly, “Yeah that's true. Ma wasn’t gonna let us out of trick or treating until Steve said you and your mom had set this up”

Eddie felt a little warmth in his chest at that level of trust.

“And Steve was not gonna miss being in a haunted house with-” Dustin chimed in but Robin cut him off. “With you and your mom designing it. He knew it would be imaginative.” Robin could see how Dustin shirked slightly at her minor frown. Did they suspect or know about Steve wanting to be alone with Nancy too? “Hey, you know what, I’m suddenly feeling a little braver from your pep talk. Dustin and I are gonna have an explore, isn't that right, Dustin?” “Yeah,” Dustin croaked out as Robin grabbed him by the arm and marched him off.

It should have felt like Eddie could now sit back and watch the others experience this creepy set-up to his delight, but he found himself feeling rather like a spare part, and for all his ideals of being a lone wolf or leader, he didn't like it too much. He moved to slink back into the shadow-heavy sides of the room when Jonny captured his shoulder in his hand. “The Munsons seem to have outdone themselves, even if it doesn't get any scarier than this, Gareth figuratively, thankfully, shitting his pants will be cemented in my brain as long as I live,” he laughed and pat Eddie hard on the back a few times, and then took pause, “Hey, where’s Steve,” he narrowed his eyes for a second and then raised his eyebrows in understanding, “Ah he and Nancy off giggling somewhere I bet? Thick as thieves those two.” Jonny shook his head with a fond smile. Eddie didn't respond, because he couldn’t. Was Jonny not concerned? Did he trust Steve and Nancy so thoroughly that the worry isn’t entering his mind? Had he taken a few too many bumps to the head and was just plain stupid? Eddie awkwardly fussed with the collar of his trenchcoat, for somewhere to put his weirded-out energy. It was even Jonny who had brought up the fact that Steve was breaking hearts all over the city, well, in that he didn’t pursue the girls he flirted with. Did Steve just like flirting and was saving himself for the one? Could a young guy be that chaste? “Penny for ‘em?” Jonny said getting into Eddie’s space.

“Uh, you know just trying to remember all the things we set up, where not to tread and stuff,” Eddie said with a weak laugh. “Oh! Hey, guys, Eddie just let loose a secret, there are more triggers on the floor,” Jonny called out and gave Eddie a wink, as he watched the booted Hellfire gang become beginner ballerinas and get on their tiptoes to move around, which made him genuinely laugh.

“Hey, Dustin! Come check this out, we found one of your-” Jeff called out, but before he could finish, the pyre of upturned small chests toppled over, revealing a small U.F.O complete with two clay aliens riding on it.

“You break it. You buy it!” Eddie called out in jest, but he got a forlorn grumble from Gareth as Jeff and Argyle playfully scolded him for being too rough with an odd sculpture.

Robin sighed next to Eddie’s ear and it was enough to make him jump, “Why are boys like this?” “An age-old question,” Eddie muttered and shook his head. Dustin rounded them quickly to go and investigate the heap of furniture with much enthusiasm, and Robin was still muttering about the general stupidity of boys when a voice cut in behind them.

"So, what'd we miss?"

Eddie spun around so quickly that he nearly gave himself a crick in the neck, and in his haste, he knocked Robin off balance.

"Jesus H. Christ, where did you two come from?" he blurted, breath catching as he glanced at the pair standing in the doorway. He looked away from them, their pleased-with-themselves expressions were enough to make the bile of jealousy simmer in his stomach.

Eddie didn’t have time to explore the possible reasons why, because Robin tumbled against a wall and reached up to steady herself by a light fixture. Eddie grimaced as the fixture clicked, and a bucket of plastic bugs cascaded down onto her. Her scream split the air, and Eddie rushed over.

He felt a light pressure on his lower back. A voice started to say, "Mis-" but their words were cut off by the sound of Nancy's giggle as Jonny swept her up in his arms.

"Robin, are you okay? I'm so sorry, I should have warned you," Eddie said, his tone thick with regret. "They're just plastic, see?" He gathered the bugs from her hair and squeezed them in his hand for proof.

A shadow loomed above, and Eddie looked up slowly. It was Steve. Eddie's heart sank; he was supposed to be watching over Robin and Dustin, yet here he was, having accidentally traumatized fifty per cent of them, and they were only in the third room of the house.

Steve knelt effortlessly and lifted Robin. "Come on, it's just a bunch of toys. None of it’s real," he said. Eddie had half-expected a more protective line, maybe "Shall I take you home?" or even "Want me to knock Eddie out for you?" Judging by the look on Robin's face, perhaps she’d been expecting the same.

"Hey, I'm sorry, let me make it up to you. I'll buy your drinks and snacks at the dance tonight, and I'll clue you in on all the safe paths in the rest of the house," Eddie offered with a hopeful smile, desperate not to upset her further. Robin glanced between him and a slightly indignant Steve, and Eddie's stomach churned at the thought of pressuring her. He stepped back, giving her space. "Or I can walk you home. I can call my mom, she'll get you. Whatever you need."

Steve's frown deepened, but not toward Robin. It was aimed squarely at Eddie.

"That's enough," Robin huffed, pushing Steve away and putting more distance between them. "I'm fine!"

"Didn't sound fine," Dustin muttered from across the room.

"Well, I am! I just got surprised, and it was more Eddie tripping over himself because of Steve creeping around than these stupid bugs," she grumbled as she smoothed down her clothes. As her blush faded, Eddie's bloomed, and Steve seemed relieved.

"I wasn't creeping!" Steve defended, though Robin barely registered his protest. With a roll of her eyes, she strode into the next room, leaving Steve and Eddie amid a scattered pool of plastic creepy crawlies.

Eddie turned to apologise, but before he could, he felt Steve's eyes on him. That familiar, sweet smile said more than words, a silent sigh of relief passed between them.

"Miss me?" Steve smirked.

Eddie couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and genuine, and Steve's smile widened.

"Come on, guys! You don't wanna get left behind!" Nancy called out. As they turned toward her voice, Eddie noticed everyone else, except for him and Steve, had moved on to the next part of the house. In that moment, Eddie realised just how completely wrapped up he was in Steve.

Everyone stayed together for the last few rooms of the house. Eddie tried not to give much away apart from the occasional signal to Robin of things to avoid like it was their little secret. Paper ghosts, masks that had their contours ghoulishly emphasised by paint and lighting, a glowing cauldron with shrouded figures huddled around it, tantalised and terrified the group, and he should have been proud, but Eddie was too distracted by his own fear. Steve and Nancy would repeatedly slink off behind a curtain or into a dark corner of the room, and though he couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, their tone, whispers and mischievous giggles, made the jealousy swimming in the pit of his stomach, coil around his insides. Even though he had no right. Sometimes they didn't even hide it, they’d exchange knowing little smiles or glances.

The problem with jealousy was that it could be very distracting. Distracting enough for Eddie to lose his joy in the scare spectacular and glumly walk into a small closet to get away from everyone for a moment. “Ed? Are you in there? Thought we’d lost ya,” Steve said, peering into the darkness of the closet and straight at Eddie.

“Yeah, sorry, just admiring the symbols Mom painted in here,” Eddie replied, his voice wavering slightly.

Steve stepped inside to take a closer look, and a cold chill ran down Eddie’s spine. He barely had time to open his mouth before Steve unknowingly stepped on the panel Eddie had carefully avoided, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Steve jolted back, instinctively grabbing for something, anything, and ended up pressed against Eddie as Eddie simultaneously lurched for the door. His hands grasped at nothing, his stomach lurching as the terrible realisation set in. There was no handle.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Steve asked quietly.

Beads of sweat formed beneath the brim of Eddie’s hat. His breath felt too shallow, his thoughts too loud. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t even realised he still had one arm wrapped around Steve’s waist.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice softened, almost a whisper, but Eddie was stuck in time.

Eddie was six years old again, shoved into a school hallway by jeering kids while the teacher had conveniently disappeared for a coffee, or a smoke, or whatever the hell they did when they weren’t watching. He was backing up, back, back until he hit something, a mop and bucket, but he only saw them for a split second before everything vanished into inky blackness and as he turned back to his tormentors they too disappeared with a slam. Eddie knew what happened next, he'd be stuck in here for hours.

But this time, something was different. Something warm was at his back. Not cold. Not empty.

“Ed. You okay?” Steve asked, voice tinged with concern.

That was when Eddie realised what had pulled him back from the memory. Steve. His hand rubbing slow, warm circles against Eddie’s back.

Eddie cleared his throat, forcing his voice steady. “Y-yeah. Sorry.”

Steve’s hand retreated, but the heat it left behind migrated straight to Eddie’s face. “We’re stuck,” he admitted.

“Nah, let me try,” Steve said with a small laugh.

“There’s no handle on this side,” Eddie explained, keeping his tone gentle. “It’s a trap. I told my mom I didn’t like the idea of this one, but she said it would be fine. That I’d be on the other side to help. But I’m not. I’m on the wrong side.”

Panic helixed up his spine, icy and relentless.

The room was too dark. The only sliver of light came from the cracks in the door, illuminating fragments of Steve. The red strip of his collar, the curve of his jaw, the beauty marks Eddie had memorised a long time ago. The rest was lost in shadow.

“Ah, don’t worry,” Steve chuckled. “They’ll realize soon enough we’re missing.”

But Eddie wasn’t laughing. Fear had grasped at his lungs and his breathing was becoming faster, shorter, shallower.

Before he could think better of it, he lunged at the door, releasing Steve, and thumped on it with his fists and yelled for help at the top of his lungs.

“Jesus, it isn’t so bad being in here with me for a few minutes is it?”  Steve joked, but it sounded a little forced, maybe Eddie’s weirdness was finally putting him on edge.

“I don't think they can hear us,” Eddie said urgently, fear clear in his tone, sweat forming in his palms.

Steve sighed. “Let me take a look at this door. I’m sure it’s nothing a bit of brute force can’t fix.”

Eddie snapped his head toward him. “Didn’t you hear me? I said it can only be opened from the other side!”

The rustling of Steve’s jacket had stopped, he must have frozen at the sharpness of his voice.

Guilt twisted in Eddie’s gut. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he muttered, wringing his hands. “I just… I don’t do well in small spaces. Got locked in a closet once. For hours. Thought I was gonna die in there.”

Steve was quiet for a beat. Then, understanding dawned in his voice.

“Ah,” he said, “Okay, well, this ain’t gonna be like that. They’ll come back. And this time, you’ve got a secret weapon that won’t let anything bad happen to ya.”

Eddie swallowed hard, digging his nails into the arms of his trench coat. “I do?”

In the darkness, Steve’s gorgeous smile was audible, “Yeah, ya do. You got me, this time.”

Eddie drew in a sharp breath. “Yeah?” he asked, embarrassed that he needed the comfort. Flustered that he wanted it.

“Come here,” Steve murmured, gripping Eddie’s arms. His hands were warm, steady, grounding. Slowly, he peeled Eddie’s fingers away from his arms and replaced them with his own.

Eddie stopped breathing.

Steve ran his hands in slow, soothing strokes up and down Eddie’s arms. “You got the fear, that’s all,” he muttered. “Your insides are probably going crazy, right? We just need to get ‘em back to base. Same thing happens to me if I’m underwater too long.”

Eddie’s heart hammered, his breath still uneven, his skin on fire where Steve was touching him, melting the icicles of panic stabbing into him.

“Now, I can’t see ya too well, so did you nod yes, or shake your head no?” Steve asked, a quiet chuckle in his voice.

Eddie hiccuped. “Uh, yeah. I nodded.”

“Okay,” Steve said, gentle as ever. “Just listen to me. We’re gonna pretend this place ain’t so small. Close your eyes. Imagine the stockroom at the store. That’s pretty dark, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispered.

Something about Steve’s voice should have sent him into a worse frenzy. But it wasn’t.

It was helping.

And that was the worst part.

This was probably the only time Steve would ever touch him like this. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Eddie wondered how many girls had felt this special because Steve wanted to hold them, not because he needed to calm them down.

“Remember that time we were in the stockroom and Caesar spooked you?” Steve asked, voice tinged with amusement.

Eddie did remember that. He’d yelped, Steve had laughed, and had looked so adorable petting the stealthy cat.

“And then we were at the shelves, weren’t we?” Steve continued, his voice lower now. “About this close?”

Eddie shivered under Steve’s hands. He remembered that too.

He remembered not panicking then. He remembered wanting the space to feel smaller, so Steve had to be close to him.

Just like right now.

“There we go,” Steve whispered.

Eddie realised he wasn’t breathing so hard anymore. His shoulders weren’t locked up. The pain across his shoulders had lessened, replaced by something else, a dull, aching warmth.

His heart wasn’t hammering as quickly, but it was deeply thudding in his chest so loudly he was sure Steve might hear it. As he became more aware of his body, he realised why. 

Steve’s hands had moved to his shoulders. Rubbing them soothingly.

And Eddie’s hands had also found a resting place.

They were on Steve’s waist.

The panic surged back.

Eddie jerked his hands away like he’d touched fire. “Oh, no. Steve, I’m sorry! Shit, I didn’t realise-”

“Hey,” Steve cut in softly. “It’s no big deal. I ain’t gonna say anything.” He tilted his head slightly. “It helped, right?” Steve’s voice was much closer, and Eddie could feel his breath on the shell of his ear.

Eddie had no words. If only Steve knew. If he knew the secret Eddie had been hiding, if he knew how much he wanted to remember this moment forever, he’d probably be disgusted.

“Eddie, I-”

Before Steve could finish, the door yanked open.

“About time!” Steve said firmly at Dustin’s silhouette. “E- I was scared half to death in there. We called for help!”

Eddie barely had time to process before Steve grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the closet, tugging him into the dimly lit room.

“A ‘thanks’ would have been more suitable,” Dustin scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Any more of that, and you’ll find yourself walking home,” Steve grumbled, pointing in Dustin’s face before brushing dust off his jacket. Then, with an easy smile, he turned to Eddie. “Come on, Ed, show us the rest of the place.”

The warmth in Steve’s voice, the way he said Ed like it was something special, made Eddie’s insides do a loop-de-loop.

There weren’t many rooms left, but for the rest of the night, Steve didn’t leave his side. Not even when Nancy tried to coax him away.

Everyone enjoyed themselves. Even Eddie, despite the lingering tension still buzzing through his nerves. He was satisfied knowing that every last person had gotten their fair share of scares, his efforts rewarded by their laughter and lingering adrenaline. They all thanked him, telling him to pass on their appreciation to his mom.

Pride warmed his chest from their compliments, but what set his heart aflame was the pleased smile and approving nod Steve sent his way as he was sitting on the hood of his car, in front of Eddie.

“I knew it’d be a knockout with you on board,” Steve said, looking directly into Eddie’s soul before dropping his cigarette butt on the pavement. “I’ll never forget it, that’s for sure.”

Then, only when Eddie couldn’t respond, when his throat was tight with something he couldn’t name, did Steve finally turn away to stub out the cigarette on the ground.

They lingered in the crisp, chill night air for a while, waiting for Steve to drive them back. He was still deep in conversation with the Hellfire guys and Nancy about something, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Eddie, feeling the cool bite of the night, motioned to offer Robin his trench coat. She gave him a look like he had just landed from outer space, but before she could say anything, Dustin plucked it out of his hands with a relieved sigh, exchanging it for his foil-covered cardboard box costume.

Steve rejoined them a moment later, scanning the trio with mild suspicion before shrugging it off.

“So, we’re thinking we’ll head to the dance at my uncle’s place next,” he said, eyes flicking straight to Eddie before shifting to Dustin. “Gotta make ourselves look real sharp first. That okay?”

Then, before Dustin could get any ideas, Steve pointed directly at him. “Not you, pipsqueak. Nighty night for you.”

Dustin’s jaw dropped. “Not Robin either, though,” he said smugly, before turning to see her equally smug expression. His face fell. “That’s not fair!”

Steve crossed his arms. “First of all, you’re not old enough. Second of all, it’s gonna look pretty weird if you dance with Eddie.”

Eddie choked. His head snapped toward Steve, then toward Robin, who gave him a playful finger wave.

“Steve said you didn’t have time for dating,” she smirked. “Because of your writing? And you wouldn’t try and date your best friend’s little sister, now would you?”

Eddie opened his mouth, then shut it again.

Maybe he could get out of this. Maybe he could suggest not dancing or, even better, bailing on the whole thing entirely. But before he could even begin to form an excuse, Jonny clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“And you wouldn’t wanna skip out after we told Uncle V you’d be there tonight,” Jonny added with a grin.

Eddie blinked, dumbfounded. “Wait, what?”

“And it’s a dance,” Nancy added smoothly, drawing Eddie’s gaze to her. “So if you just stand there against the wall all night, it’s gonna look a little weird, right?”

Eddie swallowed hard, trapped.

“You’re coming, right?” Steve asked, breaking Eddie from his thoughts.

Eddie blinked. “What?”

Steve smirked. “The dance. You are coming.”

“I-” Eddie hesitated. “Um, I don’t even have anything to wear.”

“Don’t worry, I got lots of clothes,” Steve beamed, already waving them toward the car. “You can borrow something of mine. Let’s go.”

“With the greatest respect, Steve,” Eddie said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think you’ve got a little more muscle on you than me. But it’s really kind of you to offer.” He glanced at the others. “I can just grab something for the next dance. My mom can-”

He stopped short when Steve glanced toward Jonny and Nancy, panic flashing briefly across his face before he masked it.

Maybe this was important. Maybe this uncle of his was someone Eddie actually needed to meet, formally. They’d met briefly before at Steve’s house, and Eddie knew he was a well-respected, and, in some circles, feared, man.

“Problem solved,” Jonny chimed in, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “I’ve got a suit that’ll fit you. You’re not getting out of this one, Munson.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie looked between them, feeling very ganged up on. “You’ve just got an extra suit lying around?”

Jonny shrugged. “Yeah. I brought a spare in case I spilled something on mine.”

Eddie squinted. “Why does that somehow make sense?”

“Because I know myself,” Jonny said proudly.

Steve grinned, clapping Eddie on the back. “Alright, no excuses. We’re heading back to get ready.”

Before Eddie could fully register what was happening, he found himself, making a brief stop at Jonny’s, before being dropped off at his apartment with a complete suit in hand, including a hat.

“Steve said you’re partial to hats,” Jonny grinned, passing it over. “You sure you don’t wanna get ready at Steve’s with the rest of us?”

Eddie scrambled for an excuse, but Steve beat him to it.

“Eddie likes to take his time,” Steve chuckled, leaning against the car. “Can’t have him jostling for mirror space with you greasers.”

He chuckled and his eyes landed back on Eddie, “Pick you up in half hour?” Eddie breathed a silent sigh of relief and nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

“It’s a date,” Robin grinned from the back seat.

Steve immediately waved her off with a mock-annoyed look before shooting Eddie a final wave and driving off.

With the pressure of expectations mostly gone, Eddie took his time getting ready. No one had to know he was doing it for a potential compliment from Steve.

He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the hat, smoothing out the fabric of the suit. It felt good. For the first time in a long time, he actually liked how he looked.

A sharp wolf whistle snapped him out of his thoughts, and heat immediately rushed to his face.

“Mama, geez!” Eddie laughed.

His mom leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Well, excuse me, sir. Have you seen my boy? He was in here not twenty minutes ago.”

Eddie groaned, but he was grinning. “Aw, come on.”

She stepped closer, adjusting his tie, pride shining in her eyes. “You look like a million bucks,” she said warmly. Then, her expression turned teasing. “Now, don’t let any of those girls at the club bully you into anything. They’ll all be trying to get a dance with the most handsome guy there, so watch yourself.”

Eddie snorted. “Nah, that’ll be Steve. I think I’ll be okay.”

His mom tilted her head, smiling knowingly. “You think so?” She shook her head, smoothing his lapel. “I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

“Oh, stop,” Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes.

She chuckled and kissed his cheek.

“I gotta go,” Eddie said quickly, ducking away. “Don’t wanna be late for pick-up.”

She walked him to the door, slipping some quarters and a few bills into his pocket. “Ok Sweetheart. If anything happens, you call me. I know that place, worked on it a few times. I can be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail to get you.” “Alright, Mama,” He said reassuringly as he walked towards the apartment door with her. “And remember to have fun!” She called after him as he closed the door and descended the stairs.

Eddie stepped outside just as headlights rounded the corner, casting long shadows against the pavement. His breath came a little shorter as the familiar car pulled up to the curb, engine purring low in the quiet night.

Steve leaned over, looking him over, smiling, and popping open the passenger door. “Right on time, Munson. Looking sharp.”

Eddie hesitated half a second too long, the compliment he’d made all the effort for made his heart flutter. He climbed in, adjusting his hat as he settled into the seat.

Steve gave him another once-over, grinning. “Not bad. Jonny’s suit actually fits you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie muttered, tugging at the collar. “Don’t get used to it.”

Steve chuckled as he pulled away from the curb. “Can’t make any promises.”

The night unfolded in a blur of spinning skirts, polished shoes scuffing against the dance floor, and laughter that echoed through the grand hall. In the end, Eddie wasn’t forced to dance with anyone, much to his relief. Steve, on the other hand, had no such reservations. He danced with what felt like every girl in the room, including his own sister, twirling her across the floor with an easy confidence that made it look effortless. He was a marvellous dancer.

Just like his mom had predicted, girls kept approaching him, asking if he was going to be dancing, but after his third excuse about an injured leg, Gareth caught on. That was all it took for him, Jeff, and Argyle to become Eddie’s personal defense squad, intercepting anyone who dared approach with a hopeful smile and an outstretched hand. It worked well enough, leaving Eddie free to watch the dancefloor from a safe distance, drink in hand, feeling the bass of the music hum through the floorboards.

Steve had been pulled into conversation with a group of older men in very expensive suits, their discussions quiet but intense. Eddie figured it was something important because within minutes, the group had been led, by Steve, upstairs to a private bar. It had deep, dark red leather armchairs and heavy, polished mahogany tables that gleamed under the low light. A large desk stood at the far end of the room, and a window overlooked the dance floor below. Most of the others drifted back downstairs soon after, but Eddie lingered, letting the atmosphere settle around him.

To his surprise, Steve didn’t leave either.

Eddie tilted his head as Steve exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Takin’ a break from all that twirling?”

Steve grinned, loosening his tie slightly. “You have no idea.”

Neither of them made any move to leave. The music still pulsed through the air, but up here, away from the press of bodies, the space felt quieter, more intimate. Eddie leaned against the railing, eyes on the dance floor below, but Steve was too close, his presence impossible to ignore.

He couldn’t tell how long they had been there, chatting idly, enjoying the music, pointing out anything amusing happening downstairs, sipping their drinks. Eddie felt almost giddy having Steve all to himself, finally, for the first time that evening.

“You wanna go dance?” Steve asked with a big smile, jutting his thumb toward the door leading back down to the club.

“Nah, I’m not much of a dancer,” Eddie said with a bashful shrug. “Two left feet and all that.”

Steve folded his arms, wrinkling the fabric of his jacket as he tilted his head. “What, we came all this way, and you don’t even wanna dance?”

The playful challenge in Steve’s voice, the way he looked at Eddie with that encouraging grin, made something coil tight in Eddie’s chest.

“I-I don't wanna embarrass you in front of your friends,” Eddie tried to excuse. “Or, you know, myself in front of the girls. That’d be really uncool, right?”

Steve hummed, acting like he was deep in thought, pressing a hand to his chin, finger tapping against his lips. “Okay, sure,” he said slowly. “But what about me?”

Eddie nearly choked on his own breath.

After a cough, a desperate attempt to steady himself, he took a quick sip of his beer, trying to buy time. But when he glanced back up, Steve was still waiting, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Well?” Steve prompted, his smirk widening.

“Well, what about you?” Eddie asked, feigning confusion. Stalling. Desperately clawing for an excuse, any excuse, to stop his brain from spiraling.

“I thought you were the smart guy around here?” Steve teased.

Eddie swallowed hard. What exactly was Steve implying?

Could he tell?

Had Eddie failed to assimilate into another community? Was the loudest thing about him tonight, not the clothes Steve’s friend had borrowed him, but himself, and the heavyweight champion-sized crush he had on his new friend?

Steve removed his jacket and laid it neatly over the back of the seat. Suddenly, the room felt a lot warmer.

Eddie swallowed hard as Steve rolled up his sleeves, fabric hugging the curve of his biceps before he turned back to face him.

“What I meant was,” Steve said, tilting his head slightly, “you wouldn’t be embarrassed to dance in front of me, right?”

He gave a small shrug. “You didn’t mention me in that list of excuses, so I figured that meant I was okay.”

Eddie desperately tried to keep his eyes on Steve’s face or the room surrounding them, to prevent them trailing over the rest of him. He laughed nervously, “Well it’s not like you can empty the club for us, can you?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “No, but there’s no need.” He gestured around the little bar-slash-office they were standing in. “We’ve got this whole place to ourselves.”

He took a step closer, his grin downright dangerous. “Come on, Ed. I’ve seen your foot tappin’ all night. I know you like the music. Just one little dance.”

And as the laugh barked out of him, it or maybe the last swig of beer he had, easily helped him drop part of his defences.

“Alright,” Eddie sighed, setting down his drink. “The next song. As long as it’s not a slow one.”

Steve beamed, throwing a hand over his heart. “Yeah, ‘course. Not a slow one.”

Eddie glanced over at him, smiling despite himself, then turned to look out over the dance floor below, watching as the current song wound down. 

He looked out over the dance floor downstairs, quickly trying to observe how the average kid danced around here.

But as the piano stabs of the next song kicked in, Eddie felt that the gods themselves were having a wail of a time at his expense.

Baby, let me be your loving’ teddy bear.

Eddie rolled his eyes in defeat, causing Steve to burst out laughing. “It’s almost like they knew you were gonna dance. They got a song just for you, huh?”

Eddie shot him a suspicious look. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Steve smirked, swaying subtly to the beat. “No one ever nicknamed you Teddy?”

Eddie copied Steve’s movements, trying not to think too hard about how easy it felt.

“Not really,” he chuckled. “The nicknames I get aren’t usually that nice.”

He watched his own feet shuffle from side to side, clicking his fingers to the beat, letting himself enjoy it for just a second.

Steve started singing along, and when Eddie looked up at him, he mimed running a comb through the side of his hair, curling his lip just like Elvis.

Eddie had no idea how he managed to keep dancing.

He was too busy staring, completely struck by how damn handsome Steve looked.

Steve was unfairly good-looking, the kind of handsome that made people stop in their tracks, made girls giggle behind their hands and kick their feet, writing about him in their journals at night. The kind that made Eddie fight not to stare.

The dim lighting softened his features, casting shadows along his cheekbones and jaw, making him look like something out of a magazine ad for trouble. His hair, ridiculous in how perfect it always was, gleamed under the light, pomade catching like comet trails streaking through every strand.

If his lips curled into Elvis’s signature smirk were the bait, then his voice was the barbed hook that Eddie couldn’t wriggle off of.

Eddie felt like a deer in headlights, except instead of high beams, it was movie-star-quality, sunshine-flecked hazel eyes, belonging to Steve Harrington and his stupidly perfect face.

His stomach was in a tailspin, and he valiantly tried to focus on the music, not on Steve’s mouth, or his body, or the way he moved so effortlessly, or the fact that he was standing way too damn close.

But once Steve realized he had Eddie’s full attention, he only played up the Elvis impersonation more. His enthusiasm was infectious, and before Eddie knew it, he was doing his version, remembering the moves he’d seen on the big screen when he went to watch Jailhouse Rock , as many times as he could afford.

He knew this song wasn’t from that movie, but the moves were more fun.

Lost in the rhythm, he let himself go, alternating between a knee bend, a half-hip twist, and the occasional precarious balance on the point of his dress shoes. He was mid-spin, grinning, when he looked up.

And Steve had stopped dancing.

He was just watching him, mouth slightly parted, eyebrows raised in what looked a hell of a lot like surprise.

Eddie slowed to a stop, suddenly unsure.

He laughed nervously, glancing away. “Sorry. Got a little carried away.”

The heat from the dancing was creeping into his collar, so he shrugged off his jacket, not wanting to sweat through Johnny’s suit.

As he did, a stray curl slipped loose from under his hat.

He reached up quickly, trying to tuck it back before it fully betrayed him, but the movement only caused more curls to tumble free. Huffing, he turned, searching for a mirror, when he suddenly came face to face with Steve.

Before Eddie could even protest, Steve was already tucking his curls back into place, carefully smoothing the strands back under the hat, his fingertips gentle against Eddie’s forehead.

“So, an Elvis fan, are ya?” Steve asked, his voice lower, softer now.

His fingers brushed a few strands still stuck to Eddie’s brow, tucking them away like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I knew you’d have some moves,” Steve added, smiling a little. “You like music too much not to.”

“Too much?” Eddie mumbled, trying not to sound as dazed as he felt being this close to Steve.

The way his smile curled, just enough to flash those perfect teeth. How neatly shaved his face was. Those wonderful beauty marks that adorned his skin. How his long, dark eyelashes, unfairly momentarily hid those cocoa honeyed eyes from Eddie’s, as he blinked.

And then, there was the scent of him.

Not just his cologne, but something closer, more subtle. Soap, beer, tobacco, and the faintest trace of lemon that Eddie knew came from him grating the zest earlier that day.

It was a heady potion, and Eddie felt like one more breath of it might be fatal.

He tried to ground himself.

He kept reminding himself how kind Steve had been since he got here. That he was his friend, and he couldn’t mess that up.

There were beautiful girls who dropped into the store all the time, and Steve never gave them a second glance. So what hope would Eddie have?

Because the glaring truth was that Steve wasn’t like him.

Eddie had never met another guy like himself, but he knew he couldn’t be the only one if there was a word for it. Homosexual.

And yet, how would you even find that out?

It wasn’t something you could just ask.

It might be the last question you ever uttered.

Even though he made Eddie so nervous he thought he might combust, he never made him feel wrong. Never made him feel like he had to be less than he was.

Never made him feel weird in a bad way.

He’d never met anyone who made him feel like this in his entire life.

Right from the moment he’d stumbled over the sidewalk, Steve had felt like a familiar stranger. But maybe that was just how Steve was with everyone.

“Nah, not too much, Ed,” Steve murmured, his voice just as quiet as before, low and steady.

“Not too much for me, anyway.”

Eddie took a chance and lifted his eyes to Steve’s, searching for any sign that he was lying. But Steve wasn’t looking at him.

His focus remained on tucking Eddie’s curls away, like it was the most important task in the world.

“You wanna dance to the next song?” Steve asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I dunno. Don’t wanna ruin Jon’s suit,” Eddie joked, forcing out a laugh.

Maybe it was nerves from the way Steve’s fingertip had just brushed over his temple.

Maybe it was because of how silly he felt after his over-the-top impersonation.

But none of that mattered.

Because all that mattered was the effect it had.

Steve’s smile broadened, and a soft, light laugh fell from his lips, warm against Eddie’s skin.

And it felt like magic.

“The only thing you’d do to anything of that goomba’s is make it better,” Steve grinned, giving his hat one last adjustment.

Then, quieter, almost like he wasn’t sure if he meant to say it aloud.

“I wish somethin’ of mine had fit ya.”

Eddie almost convinced himself he’d imagined it.

“Maybe if I worked hard like you instead of scribbling away, I’d be more your size,” Eddie said, his mouth twisting into an awkward half-smile.

“You know… look better.”

“Not possible,” Steve said quickly with a laugh.

Eddie laughed too, because the thought of him ever having Steve’s physique was ridiculous. He’d have to work as hard as Steve did every day for years to even get close.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eddie chuckled softly. “Even if I somehow managed to get stronger, I still wouldn’t look as good as you.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Steve tilted his head slightly toward him, not quite looking at him directly.

“You think I look good, Ed?”

The next song started to play, and Eddie’s heart faltered.

For a moment, he couldn’t answer.

Thankfully, Eydie Gormé’s beautiful voice filled all the spaces around and between them.

In that moment of nervous awkwardness, there was no place Eddie would rather be than suddenly transported from this bar to the moon, just to escape his slip of the tongue.

“Everyone does,” he forced out, straining a smile as he swallowed the growing lump in his throat.

He tried to think of the fastest way home from here. It was probably miles away, but if things went south, there was nothing like a pack of angry guys to awaken your inner track star. He could just keep running until he found a place to hide, then wait it out until the small hours of the morning before sneaking back home.

But then, all that adrenaline to run melted away.

Because Steve’s eyes finally met his.

“That’s not what I asked,” Steve said softly, “I asked if you do.”

Eddie’s tensed muscles turned to pudding.

He was sure he could write an epic grander than The Odyssey, just to describe the way Steve’s eyes changed color depending on the light.

Sometimes, his irises were drowned in golden cosmic clouds, with only a fine spray of homely earth at their center, before converging at the small, dark void, the one he had fallen into the first time they met.

And ever since, he had been unable to escape.

But here, so close in the dim light of the office, Steve’s eyes looked impossibly dark, waiting expectantly for an answer.

Eddie’s mouth opened once, twice, nothing.

Every time he tried to form a word, his thoughts were trampled by a stampede of impossible dreams.

Then, as the strings on the record swelled, his heart exploded.

Steve’s beautiful smile stretched wider, and he gave a slight nod.

“Ya ain’t very good at answering questions tonight.”

Eddie let out an awkward laugh, desperate to look away from the hazardous peril that was Steve’s eyes, but it was far too late.

They had him.

Completely entangled, bewitched, and mesmerized, as Eydie Gormé sang out with her whole heart the words Eddie would die to say and have reciprocated.

In other words, I love you.

And in a stupid moment of bravery, Eddie finally answered a question.

“I’d like to dance again, sure.”

That, at least, he could say with confidence. That was safe.

They had just been goofing around to Elvis, and that had felt good. Relatively safe.

Steve’s chest brushed lightly against Eddie’s arm as he breathed.

“Even if ya don’t like the song?”

The extra contact short-circuited Eddie’s brain entirely, shutting down any quality control between brain and mouth and replacing it with some kind of highly polished playground slide. Reckless, and unstoppable. Just like his heart would be in its truest form.

“I’m sure I’ll like it if I’m with you,” Eddie said a little too dreamily.

His stomach plummeted immediately, panic kicking in a second too late.

“I mean-” he rushed to backpedal, “that last one was fun, right?”

Steve blinked at him a few times, like he was trying to process something.

“Yeah… yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

He took a step back, glancing out onto the dance floor.

“Um, stay right here, okay? I’m gonna get us some proper drinks. Made by the bartender, yeah?”

Before Eddie could stop him, Steve was already out the door, thundering down the steel stairs while shrugging his jacket back on, disappearing out of sight.

Eddie was left alone, listening to the final notes of the song, finishing off his beer with an excited spin.

He was certain he might have to change his genre from sci-fi to romance, because that moment was going to be etched into his brain forever. 

Even though he knew it could ultimately go nowhere, his heart was still so full it could burst.

He sang along loudly, grinning as the lyrics wrapped around him like a dream.

A dream with wide eyes of innocence that knew nothing of the word impossible.

Fill my heart with song,

And let me sing forever more

The door swung open hard, booted in with too much force, and Eddie jumped out of his skin, nearly dropping his empty beer bottle. He barely managed to catch it before it crashed to the floor, his heart hammering.

His fearful eyes darted to the doorway, only to find Steve standing there, holding two martini glasses, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

A few drops spilled over, racing around the delicate glass edges, and Steve quietly cursed, setting the drinks down before grabbing a napkin to blot at the splashes on his jacket. With a sigh, he slipped the jacket off and hung it over a chair, with his back to Eddie, smoothing a hand over his hair as he let out a slow breath.

Eddie watched him, noticing the slight shift in his energy.

Maybe staying up here too long had gotten Steve into some kind of trouble, with his friends, or maybe even his uncle. He didn’t look quite as relaxed as he had before.

Or maybe he was just annoyed about the suit.

Steve picked up the drinks again and walked over, extending one toward Eddie.

Eddie took it, carefully holding the thin glass stem, inspecting its odd, conical shape. The orangish translucent liquid inside balanced a few delicate slices of fruit on its surface.

“Figs?” Eddie asked, lifting the drink closer to his eyes, sniffing it curiously.

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed, watching him with a small smile.

Eddie took another whiff and hummed in recognition. “Oh smells kinda like that citrusy vanilla filling thing, like in the cannoli you make.”

Steve’s smile broadened, radiant, and Eddie swore not even the sun could warm him the way that smile did.

“Huh. I like those,” Eddie said, taking a sip.

Steve did the same, but kept watching him as they drank.

“I know,” Steve said, smacking his lips as he set his drink down.

Eddie mirrored him, but a flicker of anxiety crept in. What did that mean? "I know?"

He laughed nervously, trying to shake it off. “What a funny coincidence, huh? That they have a drink like that here?” His fingers found a small loose thread in his pocket, twisting it between them. But fresh fear flooded him. Did Steve think he was lying? That he’d been pretending he didn’t go out, just because of this ridiculously specific coincidence? The feeling of running resurfaced sharply, his mind already mapping the exits.

He had never been here before. Never been to any club, anywhere, ever.

Steve’s expression shifted slightly, confusion flickering across his face before he smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets as he took a step closer.

“Weird name, too,” he said casually.

“Uh. Really?” Eddie edged back instinctively.

“Yeah,” Steve continued, completely deadpan.

“It’s a Munsoni.”

Eddie froze.

“Uh, Steve, I swear this is just a weird coincidence,” he blurted, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ve never been here. Or anywhere like this, honestly.”

His fingers nervously tapped against his leg, heart hammering.

“I know,” Steve repeated, his smile widening, eyes flicking between Eddie and the glass.

Eddie’s eyes scanned the floor, as if searching through a cascade of jigsaw pieces that had just fallen from the sky onto him. His mind frantically pieced the puzzle together, and as the final one snapped into place, his gaze lifted to Steve’s.

“Did you-”

He pointed between himself, Steve, and the glasses, unable to articulate the revelation.

Steve shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his shoulders hitching up in an adorably squeezed shrug. One Eddie had never seen him do before.

“I mighta… supplied the joint with a few extra things for this evening,” Steve admitted, rocking on his heels. “When you said you’d come.”

“You made me my own drink?” Eddie asked, disbelief cracking through his voice.

Steve, oddly enough, ducked his head, kicking at the floor a little before looking back up at him.

“Is that okay?” he asked quietly, wrapping an arm around himself.

Eddie watched him for a few seconds, stunned.

Steve had boyish charm. He was playful, effortlessly confident, but he was also a man, toughened by the world, no doubt. And yet, the way he asked if that was okay, his voice so soft, couldn’t have been filled with more innocence if he’d tried.

Eddie snatched up his drink and downed it like it was the first liquid he’d seen after crossing a desert for forty days and nights.

Steve’s arm dropped from guarding himself as he laughed, reaching out to grasp Eddie’s arm.

“Hey, easy there. Easy. That ain’t beer! It’s vodka an’ vermouth.”

Steve’s concerned eyes met Eddie’s, who was now visibly struggling against the burn of the alcohol he wasn’t accustomed to.

“I know,” Eddie gasped, coughing slightly before placing a steadying hand on Steve’s shoulder, laughing along with him.

“You can’t get outta a dance with me that easy, Ed,” Steve smirked.

He didn’t move his hand.

And he didn’t move Eddie’s, either.

Instead, with his free hand, he casually took Eddie’s drink and set it down.

Eddie heard the soft brush of drums and the hush of backing vocals filling the air before Paul Anka’s voice resonated through the very bricks of the building, and through his very bones.

Requesting something that Eddie would give anything for.

Put your head on my shoulder.

Eddie looked down through the one-way window, watching as couples wrapped themselves around each other, swaying slowly to the beat.

He wondered if there would ever be a place in the world where he could be one of them. If the day would finally come when he’d have feelings for a girl and be like every other normal guy.

Some of the books he’d read said there were treatments for people like him. Ways to make him better. To make him normal.

His chest felt tight as he let out a deep sigh.

Then he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned.

And saw the unbelievable.

For a split second, he thought maybe downing that cocktail too fast had knocked him out cold, because Steve’s hand was on his arm. His other hand was reaching toward him. Palm up. Like he was asking him to dance. 

But he couldn’t be. Could he?

Eddie froze, motionless except for the slow rise and fall of his chest, his brain desperately trying to process the moment. His mouth barely moved when he spoke.

“Am I dreaming?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve tilted his head, that same charming smile playing at his lips. The one he used when he was trying to convince Eddie to try anything.

“If you were,” he muttered, his voice warm and steady, “Would ya dance with me?”

Eddie, trembling, just about managed to nod.

“Then let’s say you are,” Steve said, extending his hand further toward him.

Eddie’s eyes darted between Steve’s hand and his soft gaze, his heart pounding so hard he was certain he might drop dead right there. Some poor drunk who fell asleep at a club and never woke up.

Gingerly, he reached out and placed his shaking hand in Steve’s.

His whole body vibrated with adrenaline, and he was sure it was fear. Fear that something dreadful was going to happen any minute. That someone would throw a bucket of water in his face and wake him up.

But nothing came.

No jeers. No cruel laughter.

Only Steve.

Steve drew him in closer, clasping their joined hands between them. His other hand pressed gently against the middle of Eddie’s back.

Steve smiled at him, giving a small, encouraging nod.

Eddie, feeling like he was sleepwalking through something impossible, hesitated only a second before moving his arm over Steve’s, his fingers settling at the base of his neck.

“You okay?” Steve asked gently as he swayed them slowly.

“No, not really. I’m scared to death,” Eddie half-laughed, his breath shaky.

“Of me?” Steve asked, concerned.

Eddie looked at him, then down at their joined hands. He could feel the warmth radiating from Steve’s palm on his back, soothing, steadying. And beneath his fingers, the short hairs at the nape of Steve’s neck, soft against his touch.

That’s when he realized.

“No,” Eddie murmured. “I’m scared because… because I’m not scared of you.”

Steve’s smile softened.

“Good,” he said. “You never gotta be scared around me. I’m gonna take good care of ya.”

Eddie could hear the smile in his voice. He dared a quick glance at it, and just like that, the spell it always seemed to cast over him worked its magic. The trembling in his body stilled.

He moved closer, letting himself bask in the warmth between them, his fingers cautiously threading through the short hair at Steve’s nape. Steve’s hands tightened slightly for just a second.

“You okay?” Eddie asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. I mean… fucking terrified too, but also? Best moment of my life so far.”

“Of me?” Eddie teased, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted with a nervous laugh.

Eddie froze for half a second. It must have been the first time he’d ever heard Steve sound even remotely anxious, because it didn’t sound like him at all.

“This is my dream, right?” Eddie said softly. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of. I’ll keep you safe here.”

Something in him felt lighter, more sure of itself.

So he slid his arm further around Steve’s waist, pulled him closer, and let his cheek rest against his shoulder. Unlike reality, where they were the same height, here, Eddie could tilt his head and look up at him dreamily.

Steve still hadn’t looked at him directly.

“Ya promise? For always?” he asked, their slow steps barely disturbing the wooden floor.

Eddie smiled, rubbing soothing circles across Steve’s back.

“Until the seas run dry and the stars fall out of the sky to go home for good,” he murmured.

Steve’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, then another, almost like he was drifting off to sleep.

Wouldn’t that be funny? Falling asleep in someone else’s dream.

“Do you know where they live?” Eddie asked quietly. “The stars?”

Steve hummed.

“Um… well, I thought they lived in the sky,” he said, brow furrowing. “But ya can’t go home if you’re already at home, right? I dunno where they go in the day.”

Eddie’s grin widened.

“Sure you do,” he said, gazing up at him, “They’re in your eyes.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but Eddie caught the way his cheeks flushed faintly under the soft glow of the lights.

Eddie laughed, and Steve tried to fight his own smile, failing miserably.

“Is this what I’m gonna get now?” Steve grumbled playfully. “Pick-up lines?”

Eddie saw right through him. Saw the way his mouth betrayed him, the corners twitching up despite his best efforts. And in the glow of the dim lights, as they swayed to the music, Eddie watched the blush rise on Steve’s face.

And God help him, he knew he was in so much trouble, if he was sleep talking right now.

Put your lips next to my lips.

The singer crooned, and Eddie straightened up, preparing, almost instinctively, to do exactly that.

He stood at his full height, his face just slightly turned, a fraction to the right, not quite looking at Steve head-on. He kept that exact distance as they danced and waited.

It took a few full turns before Steve finally looked back at him. By then, Eddie could already feel the perspiration between their palms.

“Eddie?” Steve asked softly. “Can I ask ya a favor?”

Eddie barely hesitated.

“Anything for you,” he said, no longer filtering a single thing he wanted to say.

Steve let go of him, reaching up to the peak of Eddie’s hat. Slowly, carefully, he lifted it off. Then, with steady hands and quiet consideration, he removed the pins, one by one, and placed them in the hat. Eddie barely breathed as Steve set it down on a chair.

And then, with nothing left holding it back, he gave his head a small shake, letting his dark waves and curls tumble free.

Steve stared. Then, with a slow blink and a devastating half-smile, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what he was thanking him for, but something about the way he said it made his stomach flip. Just as gently as before, Steve took him back into his strong arms. Back exactly as they were. Except this time, when their eyes met, Steve didn’t look away. Not once.

As the song faded out and another soft melody took its place, Steve spoke quietly.

“This is probably the last song, y’know?”

“It is?” Eddie asked, voice tinged with disappointment, “Does that mean I’ll wake up?”

Steve’s grip tightened just slightly.

“God, I hope not,” he breathed, tilting his face just a little more toward Eddie, just as a swell of strings filled the air and Nat King Cole’s voice melted through the room.

When I fall in love, it will be forever

Eddie swallowed hard, his throat tight.

He thought he really ought to get that cocktail recipe, because this was the most vivid, most intoxicating, most impossible dream he’d ever had.

Everything felt real, but it couldn’t possibly be, there is no way this is happening.

Steve shifted their hands, gently guiding both of Eddie’s arms around his waist before draping his own over Eddie’s shoulders. His fingers slid into Eddie’s hair, brushing through it softly, absentmindedly, like he was memorizing the feel of it.

Eddie adored how close they were like this. Barely room for light to slip between them.

He gazed, sleepy and lost, into Steve’s beautiful eyes, but something else pulled at the edges of his mind. The song.

It was like he’d stepped into a movie, into some achingly romantic scene, where the lighting was perfect and the world had slowed just for them. The camera was zooming in as the background characters were dancing elegantly out of frame.

Except, he could hear the soundtrack. The lyrics didn’t just fill the room, they wrapped around him, sinking into his bones, threading through his thoughts, whispering that forever love was the only kind worth taking a chance on.

And though the drunken dream was pure fiction. That was exactly how he felt.

And the moment that I feel that

You feel that way too

Is when I fall in love with you

Steve’s lashes fluttered, his gaze holding Eddie’s in something soft, endless, impossible. He was so beautiful. Even more so in this dream, where everything felt like it had been made just for him. 

And even though Eddie had close to no idea what he was doing. He felt like this was that moment. The moment he’d been waiting for his entire life.

Slowly, he leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together as they swayed in close, their movements slow and tender. Their noses brushed, a whisper of contact, soft as a secret.

Eddie’s pulse thundered in his ears.

“Steve,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together, “May I kiss you?”

Steve exhaled, his breath warm between them.

“God, yeah,” he answered quickly, breathlessly.

And without another second of hesitation Eddie closed the space between them.

He tilted his jaw and pressed their lips together, stilling completely as if the world had stopped turning, and for a moment he hoped he could stay like this forever.

A million fireworks went off inside him, bright and blinding, as Steve’s hands came up, surrounding his face, holding him steady.

Their lips moved together, finding them perfectly slotting together, like they had been made to do so, the perfect rhythm, the perfect dream come to life.

Eddie had never felt so alive.

Eddie felt the warmth of Steve’s lips lingering on his own, his pulse still thundering as they began to sway together again. He didn’t want to pull away. Didn’t want to change anything. Didn’t want to risk breaking the spell.

Steve smiled against his mouth, a quiet, breathy laugh slipping out.

Eddie barely had time to process it before Steve suddenly stepped back. He stumbled forward slightly, lips still puckered, chasing after Steve.

Which only made Steve’s laugh explode into something bright and delighted.

Eddie blinked, disoriented, as Steve reached for something behind him.

He didn’t leave Eddie waiting for long, though. Within moments, he was back, holding out the hat and pins like some kind of peace offering.

Eddie pouted like a toddler who’d just had his favorite toy snatched away and Steve’s grin only grew wider.

“Don’t ya wanna get out of here?” he asked.

“Already?” Eddie whined, taking a section of his hair and haphazardly pinning it up.

Before he could react, Steve leaned in and pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

Eddie froze for a second, his mouth half-open, before quickly securing another pin. Another kiss.

His breath hitched, and he fumbled slightly with the next pin. Steve was watching him closely.

“Yeah, unless you wanna stay in this stuffy office, with my uncle and his cronies?” Steve teased, laughing.

Eddie frowned, grumbling as he reached for another pin.

“This isn’t how the dream is supposed to go.”

“Oh no?” Steve tilted his head, amused. “Just how’s it supposed to go, then?”

He shook the hat at him, waiting. Eddie begrudgingly secured another section of hair.

Another peck on the cheek.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as Steve flashed an innocent smile.

“Ohhhhh,” Eddie hummed knowingly, a mischievous giggle bubbling up.

With lightning speed, he snatched up the remaining pins, fixing his hair so quickly it was a miracle none of them stabbed his scalp.

Pin. Kiss.

Pin. Kiss.

Pin…

Eddie spun, trying to catch Steve’s next peck on the cheek right on the lips, and missed.

Missed again, because Steve was too damn quick.

Eddie let out a dramatic groan, jamming his hat onto his head in defeat. Steve, meanwhile, had to hold his sides, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over.

Just as Eddie settled his hat back onto his head, the door was swung open. Eddie’s smile flickered, his body instinctively tensing as his eyes snapped to the figure standing in the doorway.

Steve’s uncle, Vito.

The easy smile he turned around to greet them with vanished, or at least, it faded into something unreadable. His eyes flicked between them both, taking in the scene.

Then, without a word, he shut the door behind him, and clicked the lock in place.

Eddie went rigid.

There was no anger, no tension, but something about the way Steve’s uncle looked him over, a quick, assessing glance, made his stomach tighten.

“Everything okay, Stefano?” his uncle asked, his voice even, steady as he placed a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Eddie felt his pulse in his throat. Was he about to be thrown out? Or worse?

Steve’s face didn’t waver, but for a split second, his lips twitched like he was holding something back. Then he smiled.

“Yeah,” Steve said, his voice light, warm, certain, “Better.”

His eyes flicked to Eddie, “The best, ya know?”

And just like that his uncle’s entire expression shifted.

The seriousness vanished in an instant, replaced by something brighter, bigger, full of joy. His arm shot across Steve’s shoulders, pulling him in for a tight, crushing hug. Then, in rapid succession, he ruffled Steve’s hair and kissed him on top of the head so many times Eddie lost count.

“How ‘bout that, huh?” His uncle’s grin stretched wide, shaking his head in disbelief, “Unbelievable! What a fuckin’ day!” He gave Steve a playful shove, his serious entrance completely forgotten.

“Geroffame, you old sap. You’re embarrassing me,” Steve groaned, gesturing at Eddie like he was some kind of witness to a crime.

Eddie, who still had no idea what was going on, just stared back, completely bewildered. But then again dreams could be weird like that.

Steve’s uncle suddenly turned his attention to Eddie.

“Don’t think I fuggottabout you, buddy.”

He beckoned him over with a wave, and Eddie hesitantly took a few tentative steps forward, only to be yanked into a tight squeeze under his other arm.

Despite the manhandling, Eddie couldn’t help but smile over at Steve, and when their eyes met again, something about Steve’s expression made a swarm of butterflies take flight in Eddie’s stomach.

“I tell ya,” Eddie laughed breathlessly, “this is the most amazing and strangest dream I’ve ever had.”

His laugh was promptly cut off when his uncle’s hand came down hard on his back, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

“Well, ain’t that the most adorable thing I ever heard?” His uncle’s booming laughter shook the room, “This guy thinks he’s dreaming!”

Eddie’s stomach dropped.

“Wait…I’m not…?”

His thoughts scrambled, words tripping over themselves as he turned back to Steve.

“But you said-”

His mouth opened and closed, completely unable to put together a whole sentence as the realization slammed into him like a freight train. This isn’t a dream.

“I’m not…” Eddie whispered, almost afraid to believe it.

Steve simply shook his head, that sweet, knowing smile softening his whole face.

And then the excitement went off inside Eddie like a bottle rocket.

Eddie was yelling, jumping up and down with Steve’s uncle like the two of them had just won the World Series all by themselves.

This was real. Was it real?

“Jesus, pinch me already!” he shouted, wide-eyed, grabbing Steve’s uncle by the shoulders and shaking him in sheer disbelief. His uncle barked out a laugh, and obliged. 

Eddie yelped as a sharp pinch landed on his arm. He sucked in a breath, the pain grounding him, and began taking deeper exhales, each one calming him little by little until his grip on Steve’s uncle loosened.

His racing mind replayed everything that had happened since he’d gulped down that cocktail.

Then instinctively he turned back to Steve. His breath shuddered, his chest tight again, but this time, not with fear, but with something deep, overwhelming, too much to contain.

He slowly slipped out of Vito’s embrace, his feet moving of their own accord as he stepped toward Steve. The closer he got, the more his uncle seemed to disappear completely. It was just them, once again. A metaphorical vignette closing around them.

Eddie reached out first, tentatively, his fingers brushing Steve’s before slipping into his grasp. To his delight, Steve accepted immediately. That simple, easy touch sent electricity coursing through him.

For the first time in his life, Eddie wasn’t afraid to love.

Charged with the impossible reality of his dreams coming true, all his inhibitions melted away.

Without thinking, he lifted his free hand to cup Steve’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his palm, pulled him closer and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

His uncle’s booming laughter cut through the moment.

“Che diavolo! You said this guy was shy!”

Eddie barely heard him. He was getting lost in Steve’s eyes, which held the same stunned, breathless realisation.

“He was,” Steve murmured, still searching Eddie’s face. For half a second, Eddie worried he’d been too forward, until Steve’s lips curved into a smile.

“But I’m glad he’s not anymore,” Steve added pulling him into his arms.

“Okay, boys. I am overjoyed for you both, truly, but we gotta go over some rules, okay?”

Eddie felt the sudden coldness of a bottle pressed against his arm, startling him from his thoughts. He looked up as Steve’s uncle gestured toward his desk.

It was immaculate, but something about it felt, weighty. The wood was dark and polished, the kind that looked too expensive for just a nightclub office.

There were very few personal items. No family photos, no clutter, just a thick, leather-bound ledger, a locked filing cabinet, and a corded phone with multiple lines.

Eddie had never been in an office like this before, but something about it made him feel like important conversations happened here.

Vito sat on one side of the desk, while he and Steve took seats on the other. Their hands were still clasped together, their free hands holding celebratory beers.

Steve’s uncle raised his bottle, “Salut!”

Eddie quickly followed Steve’s lead, mirroring him as they raised their bottles and took a sip.

Vito barely drank before setting his aside, his fingers lacing together as he leaned forward. It was a subtle movement, but it made Eddie feel like a kid getting called into the principal’s office.

“Okay. So from your reaction, I’m guessing this wasn’t clear to you before.”

Vito’s sharp gaze landed on him, unblinking, unreadable.

“But we all know how special Steve is. We accept him and love him just as he is. But we also know the wider world don’t.”

Eddie felt a slight squeeze on his hand, and he instinctively tightened his own around Steve’s.

“I been thinking on it since Steve told me about you, and this is what I decided.” Vito’s voice was calm, but absolute, as he leaned back, the slight shift making it clear he had already made up his mind.

“When I’m in town, you two, and I’ll even extend that to your trusted friends and Robertina, you can have this space.”

He gestured around them, like the entire second floor of the club belonged to them.

“This is yours. Anytime I’m here, you can come up here and be safe. But-,” He lifted a finger, “When I am not here, you do not come here. Got it?”

Eddie nodded quickly, but Vito wasn’t done.

“Or go anywhere else. Stay at home, sit on the roof, stay outta sight. Gottit?”

He looked between them, waiting for a verbal answer.

“Got it,” Steve said first, with an easy nod.

“Got it,” Eddie echoed, though his mind was still spinning. He couldn’t stop thinking about when Steve might have mentioned his intentions towards him to his Uncle.

“Now, Edward,” He made a face and tried again, “Ed. I can call you that, yeah?”

Vito’s voice shifted slightly, less like an authoritative club owner and more like a man about to say something very personal.

Eddie nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

Vito gave a small nod in return.

“Steve asked me not to scare you off with any speeches, ”His lips twitched like that amused him, “And honestly, it feels a little unnecessary, judging from your reaction.”

Eddie swallowed, but didn’t argue.

Vito’s expression softened, just slightly.

“But I ask you this.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and for the first time, Eddie felt like he was really looking at him.

“As an uncle who cares deeply about his nephew, like he’s my own son.” Eddie’s gut clenched at that, because for the first time since stepping into this room, he wasn’t thinking about Steve. He was thinking about Wayne.

His Uncle Wayne, who had taken him in when he was just a kid.

Wayne, who worked long hours, often exhausted but never too tired to ask Eddie about his day.

Wayne, who, no matter how wild Eddie had been as a teenager, never once turned his back on him.

Wayne, who showed his love not with words, but with quiet, unwavering presence.

Wayne, who had given him a home.

Wayne, who had been his safe place.

And now here was Vito, sitting across from him, speaking about Steve with that same fierce protectiveness, but in a way that felt completely different.

Wayne was a quiet kind of strong, the kind of man who just kept showing up, no matter what.

Vito was a presence, a force of nature. He didn’t just show up, he made sure people knew he was there.

He thought for a moment they would get along famously, because in the end, they were both just men trying to protect the boys they’d raised. Eddie suddenly felt the weight of that responsibility.

Whatever Vito was about to say next, Eddie was ready to listen.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Keep my boy safe. Follow the rules.”

Vito’s voice was calm, measured, but absolute.

“Don’t flaunt this around. Too many jealous people out there, yeah?”

He hesitated.

Eddie caught the way his fist clenched, the way his jaw tensed as if he were biting something back.

Vito closed his eyes, took a slow breath, looked to be counting, then turned to Steve.

Steve nodded, a silent confirmation.

Only then did Vito look back at Eddie, his smile practiced, careful.

“And if,” The words seemed heavier, like they took effort to say, “If it don’t work out, I’m begging you to keep your trap shut about my boy.”

The unspoken threat lingered in the air. Eddie got it. Loud and clear. But honestly? It wasn’t necessary.

“I swear, I’ve got no intention of hurting anyone,” Eddie said, his voice steady, certain, “And if Steve changes his mind, no one needs to worry about me saying anything.”

His grip tightened in Steve’s.

“I know how hard it is to survive in the world when you’re like us,” he continued, voice tinged with something deeper, something lived, “I know firsthand how cruel people can be. I never want Steve to know that. Not a single day in his life.”

Steve’s hand squeezed his in return, and Vito’s forced smile melted into something real.

“Okay, good.”

He exhaled, shaking off the weight of the conversation.

“Now I gotta let these assholes in, ‘cause I left ‘em queuin’ on da stairs, and they ain’t smart enough to go elsewhere.”

His voice returned to something lighter, almost amused.

“You need my driver to drop yous home? Or someplace else?”

“Nah, it’s late. Ma will be worried,” Steve admitted, though his voice carried a hint of disappointment, “I brought the car anyway.”

Vito waved a dismissive hand.

“Let me deal with your Ma, okay?” Then he turned to Eddie, “Ed, what about your folks?”

“It’s just my Mama,” Eddie said with a small shrug, “As long as I’m back by sunrise, she won’t worry.”

Steve grinned. “Eddie’s Ma is Ms. Munson.”

Vito’s eyebrows shot up.

“No shit!” He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “I like her. Asks no questions, gets the job done.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms.

“A lotta guys here hired her after they saw the wall work she did for us downstairs. Preferred a woman doing odd jobs around their homes rather than some strange guy alone with their wives, ya know? How’d she get into all that?”

“Dunno,” Eddie admitted, “I haven’t lived with her in over ten years. She moved here alone. People back home wouldn’t give her a chance.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“She’s a mechanic, really. Learned it from her dad, ” His voice softened slightly, “When my old man up and left us, she tried to make enough to support us, but… it wasn’t enough.” 

Eddie sighed, voice dropping, “She still sent money back for me, though. Gifts when she could.” A pause. “I lived with my uncle.”

Vito studied him for a beat. He let out a low hum, his lips pressing into something like a half-shrug of a smile, barely there but not unkind. Like he got it. Like he’d seen it before.

“And do they know ‘bout your, uh… preferences? ‘Bout Steve?”

“My mom does, for sure,” Eddie admitted, “Think I talked her ear off about you,” he added with a bashful grin toward Steve, “But I just thought we were… y’know, just friends.”

Steve smirked, amused, but stayed quiet.

“My Uncle knows about me. I sent him a letter about meeting Steve here, but,” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, “Back home, you don’t talk about this kinda stuff.” His voice dropped lower, more serious, “Else you end up in a pretty bad state.”

Vito exhaled, his features still, revealing nothing, before he nodded.

“Well, you stick to our rules, and you won’t have to worry about none of that here,” he said firmly, “Not on my watch.”

There was a quiet moment, something final in his words. A promise.

Then, Vito clapped his hands together. “Now, I think I can get Carlo to drive anyone home who needs a ride, or,” he smirked slightly, “you guys can take the rest of the night downstairs in the booths if you want?”

Steve shook his head.

“Thank you, Zio, but I got an early start at the restaurant tomorrow,” he said, sending a beaming look at Eddie, “They got me on sweets, and I gotta prep early.”

Vito’s brow lifted slightly as he glanced between them again.

“You got Steve a job at that fancy place?” he asked, almost sounding impressed. “Damn. They only ever like to take my money there.”

Eddie shook his head quickly, laughing.

“No, not at all. I’m just covering for Steve at the store so he can go work there.” His grin widened as he turned to look at Steve, “He got the job all by himself.”

Steve’s face lit up, and Eddie couldn’t help but beam right back, completely captivated.

Vito eyed Eddie, amused. “Ain’t you a writer?”

Eddie shrugged, his smile irrepressible.

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice turning softer, “but I can write anytime.”

His fingers brushed lightly over Steve’s knuckles.

“Everyone’s gotta have a chance to chase their dream, right?”

He could feel Steve looking at him, but he didn’t dare meet those hazel eyes just yet. Not unless he wanted to get completely lost again.

“And I know Steve’s not gonna be there too long before he’s branching out on his own,” Eddie continued, voice dreamy now, “Back at the store, but with all his own pastries and desserts.”

Finally, Eddie glanced over at Steve, caught in the warmth of his smile. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head at himself.

Vito watched them for a beat, something complicated flickering over his face. Then, suddenly, he cleared his throat and smacked his hands down on the desk. The sharp sound made Eddie jump.

“Okay then, lovebirds, off you fly.” He waved them off gruffly, masking whatever emotion had just threatened to break through, “And let those dumb-dumbs in on your way out, will ya?”

Steve grinned, shaking his head.

Eddie let out a quiet huff of laughter, still recovering from the moment that nearly was.

They stood, shaking hands with Vito, but before Eddie could pull away, he was yanked forward over the desk into a tight hug. For a second, he froze, startled by the strength of it, but then, without thinking, he patted Vito’s back in return.

Vito released him quickly, turning to Steve, who was already bracing for it. Another hug, a ruffle of hair, and a kiss to the top of his head, and then, a firm pat and kiss on each of his cheeks.

“Be good, Stefano.”

Steve nodded, eyes a little brighter than before.

As they collected their jackets, Eddie and Steve instinctively reached for each other’s hands again, only to pause, realising they had to let go in order to open the door. Their fingers slipped apart reluctantly.

They descended the stairs, the low hum of the club growing louder with each step. It was strange, knowing what had changed up there, but stepping back into a world that had no idea.

Once they gathered up the others and made their way to Steve’s car, Eddie barely had time to breathe before the knowing smiles started.

Nancy’s smirk.

Robin’s shit-eating grin.

Hellfire’s deeply approving nods.

Dustin’s absolute glee.

Steve just shook his head fondly and opened the passenger door.

“C’mon, Ed.”

Eddie barely had the door shut before Steve reached for his hand again, and held it all the way home.

"So, everyone knows about you? Well, your... preferences, I mean?"

Eddie lay wrapped up in one of Steve’s long winter coats, stretched out on the rooftop of Harrington’s, staring up at the night sky. His hand rested comfortably in Steve’s, their thumbs brushing lightly over each other’s skin.

"Anyone that needs to know, yeah," Steve said, adjusting the cushion under his head. "And anyone that gossips about it? They find out real quick not to. My uncle doesn’t like it. Says it’s nobody’s business but my own."

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh through his nose.

"So, it was literally just me that had no idea, huh?"

"Yeah," Steve chuckled, and Eddie could hear the huge smile in his voice.

"The only person I was really eager to know my business."

Eddie's heart beat harder.

"Okay, but... you knew I was, you know... into guys?" Eddie asked, his voice quieter now.

"No."

Steve turned his head toward him, his voice soft but sure.

"I knew from your mom that you sometimes had trouble at home, and it kinda sounded like me. I wondered, for a time. But honestly, I didn’t know, or care, if you liked guys,” He shrugged slightly, "I just wanted you to like me."

Eddie’s stomach somersaulted.

"And the way you looked at me that first day we met, I thought you might," Steve continued. "But I wasn’t sure if it was because you were feeling sick or whatever."

Eddie laughed in disbelief, turning on his pillow to look at him, "You thought I might not like you? Have you met you?"

"You're so good at that," Steve said with a small shake of his head.

"Good at what?"

"You didn’t say, ‘Have you seen you.’"

Steve's eyes flicked briefly to Eddie's lips, then back up to meet his.

Eddie frowned slightly.

"I don’t get it. I mean, you’re really good-looking, Steve. There’s no denying that, I just-"

"Exactly!" Steve grinned. "You like me. Not just how I look." He shot Eddie a playful look, "I mean, you’d be a fool not to."

Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically, flopping back onto the cushion, "Ah, yes. Well, obviously, that’s a given."

Steve grinned, shifting closer.

"And how could I not fall for the layers of you? You’re like a perfect lasagna."

Eddie snorted, turning his head back toward him.

"A las-what now?"

"Oh, Jesus, Eddie, I can't believe you don’t-"

"I'm kidding!" Eddie grinned. "I know what that is. So, you think I’m a delicious, saucy, meaty dish, huh?"

Steve let out a loud laugh, covering his mouth as a deep blush spread across his cheeks.

"No!" he said, swatting Eddie’s arm. Then, almost as an afterthought, "I mean... yes."

Eddie smirked, triumphant.

Steve's fingers drifted absently to the buttons on Eddie’s coat, fiddling with them.

"I just meant... you have all these layers," Steve huffed out a breath, "Those beautiful eyes... the way you fell into my arms... how funny you are, how smart you are, well, in academics, anyway."

Steve’s grin turned mischievous.

Eddie scoffed.

"Alright, alright, I get it. I wasn’t smart enough to know the heartthrob of Little Italy was into me? Okay, geez, give me a break!" He laughed, moving his hand to intertwine his fingers with Steve’s, stilling them against the coat.

Steve just smiled, "Then, of course, you were so sweet, caring, thoughtful..." He exhaled slowly, "And when I saw your hair— how good you looked in that suit? Eddie, I nearly died. Seriously."

Eddie flushed, but laughed, "Okay, so then... why were you sneaking off with Nancy all night?"

"Uh..." Steve scratched the back of his head, "Because we were planning when I might make a move. But I kept chickening out."

Eddie raised an eyebrow.

"That closet situation kinda pushed me, though," Steve admitted sheepishly, "I didn’t mean for us to get locked in, though. I’m sorry about that, Eddie."

He looked up at him, the apology genuine in his eyes.

Eddie waved a hand.

"Ah, don’t worry about that. Worked out okay in the end."

"Yeah, well... after that, I thought if I didn’t do something, I might just explode, you know?" Steve sighed, "And I knew the safest place was at my uncle’s, upstairs."

Eddie frowned.

"So... why didn’t you take us all up there first?"

Steve looked sheepish.

There was a pause before his eyebrows pinched together and he made a chicken noise.

Eddie burst out laughing.

"So you made me sit there, watching you dance and flirt with all those girls, at the store, at the dance, because you were too chicken? Is that what you’re telling me?"

"Yeah... kinda," Steve honestly replied with an awkward but still charming smile.

Eddie shook his head, still laughing.

"Well, I was scared, you know?" Steve admitted, "Once I did something, it would be done. And I’d either get everything, or lose everything. No in-between. It was terrifying."

Eddie’s laughter softened.

Steve let out a breath, "But, you know... it doesn’t hurt for me to flirt with customers. Or girls at the dance. Keeps people off my back." Then, more seriously, "But I won’t do that no more if it upsets you, baby. I never wanna do that."

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted slightly. "Baby?" he repeated, grinning.

Steve ducked his head, suddenly shy.

"Yeah… is that okay?" he asked, squeezing Eddie’s hand a little tighter.

Eddie beamed, dimples punctuating his grin, "Sure is, Sweetheart."

Steve bit his lip at the pet name.

"And I don’t mind the girl stuff," Eddie added, "Not now, I know. Now you’re mine."

Steve’s eyes went wide, then his whole body seemed to go boneless in the big coat.

Eddie had never seen anything so adorable.

"I like that, Eddie." Steve’s voice was soft. Certain. "Being yours."

Eddie’s heart skipped. "Me too," His voice almost cracked, "Being yours, I mean."

Steve swallowed hard, "I wonder if there are any shooting stars out tonight," he murmured. "So we can make a wish?"

Eddie wiggled closer, his hand trailing up Steve’s arm slowly. His eyes followed the movement until his fingers brushed against Steve’s cheek.

"I don’t need to, " Eddie whispered, "I got mine right here."

Then, cautiously, softly, sweetly, he leaned in, and kissed Steve again, under the safe cover of night.

Above them, the night stretched wide and endless, stars winking in quiet approval.

Steve’s lips were soft, warm, and certain against Eddie’s, like he’d been waiting for this his whole life. Eddie smiled into the kiss, breath hitching as Steve pulled him in closer, deeper.

The cold of the rooftop, the world below, everything else ceased to matter.

Just Steve. Just this.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting together, Steve let out a breathless laugh, “Okay, you’re way too good at that.”

Eddie grinned, tilting his head smugly. “Yeah? You falling for me all over again?”

Steve hummed, squeezing his hand, “Maybe,” he murmured.

Eddie sighed dramatically, rolling onto his back and pulling Steve along with him.

“Well, I got all the time in the world for you to figure it out,” Steve huffed a laugh, snuggling closer, their hands tangling together over Eddie’s chest.

The stars above burned bright and infinite, like words scattered across the pages of the sky, but no story Eddie could ever write would compare to the one unfolding right here, in Steve’s arms.

[madaboutmunson]

A Lovely Way to Spend An Evening (Sweet Home Chicago Series - Part 3/4)

Summary for overview of the whole fic can be found here

For @eddiemonth (2023 - Better late than never?)

Week 3 prompts used: Committed, Curious, Tolkien, Introspective, Sci-fi/Tech, Cryptids & Folklore, Tenacious

Warnings: None that I could think of unless you dont like spaghetti?

Summary: In an attempt to help Steve achieve his dreams, Eddie offers to take some of his workload, but that involves asking Steve's Ma over dinner. Which would be fine if Eddie wasn't hiding a mass of curls under his hat, and hats at the dinner table are a no go.

Romance/Fluff Word Count : 10.2K

Ao3 Link -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie stares at himself in the mirror of the bathroom cabinet. He takes another quick, deep breath and holds up a chunk of his dark wavy hair. The perspiration forming on his palms contradicts his mouth's dryness, yet they are caused by the same thing.

The metallic gleam catches his eye as he brings his other hand, holding the scissors closer, letting the blades sit on either side of the antenna of hair he's made. He has to do this. He can't go back out there without doing something because, this time, he can't run. Eddie can't help feeling this is all his own stupid fault for being so impulsive. Well, that and not being able to say no to Steve Harrington.

Until now, Eddie had been living in a dream of a kind. His inspiration was back and flowing like someone had just stuck dynamite into a dam. He always said to himself that it was someone, but really, he had one specific muse, and that's his new best friend in the entire world, Steve.

Due to the temperature dropping rapidly recently, Eddie's writing table had been moved inside. It wasn't exactly warm in the store, but it was the Bahamas compared to the elements. At first, he'd elected to stay home in the apartment, but an hour or two into lack of inspiration and enough pacing and pondering to wear a path in the carpet and a hole in his head, there was a knock at the door. He'd quickly thrown on his hat to answer it.

When Eddie had opened it, he'd been met with the adorably cross face of Steve looking down the stairs, but then as soon as he turned to face him, his whole face relaxed in relief, "Jesus, Eddie, I was real worried! Not a call or nothin'?"

"Shit, I'm sorry, I just thought cus of the weather, it wasn't ideal for writing outdoors, you know? And I didn't wanna be a bother when I can write right here."

Steve's eyes had scanned him, and he leaned confidently against one side of the door frame and folded his arms, "Oh yeah? Let's see all 'dis writin' you been doin'."

Eddie had opened his mouth to say something, but when nothing came out, Steve smirked confidently, "Get your stuff. I moved ya table indoors, ya knucklehead," he laughed, and on that melody, Eddie had rushed to get his things and put his hair up properly. Leaving Steve to have a walk around the apartment.

Working inside the store was a little different. The pros were significant. Firstly, it was warmer. Steve even gave Eddie one of his knitted jumpers in case he got chilly. He and Steve could chat all day. He didn't have to wait for Steve to be on a break. They'd even draw together sometimes. And over time, he barely noticed Steve's accent anymore. His voice wasn't Chicago anymore. It was home. Because it was Steve's. Eddie had also gotten used to that charged syrupy espresso, biscotti every day, and cannoli every other day.

He caught glimpses of the other Harringtons occasionally. There were two girls, Robin and Max, and two boys he hadn't learned the names of yet, but one seemed distinctly shyer than the other.

Eddie would have introduced himself, but Steve wasn't overly enthusiastic about it, shooing them away from the store or distracting Eddie with something before he could say hello. Eddie found that very curious because, with both his mom and his friends, Steve had been very enthusiastic to introduce Eddie to them. Maybe, being an only child, there was something Eddie didn't get about the whole sibling experience or something.

There were really only two cons to this situation. One was that whilst Steve was very inspirational to be around, he was also very distracting. Eddie started counting seconds in his head to make sure he didn't stare too long at this beautiful man who just happened to want Eddie around as often as possible. But the second con was the worst. It made Eddie press his pen or pencil too hard into his paper. It made him excuse himself for smoking way too many cigarettes in a row or pulling at the fraying threads on the knees of his jeans.

Girls.

Whatever the weather, regular as clockwork, they would come. Like they had all pre-arranged at some point to create a schedule whereby they could have interrupted flirt time with Steve. Most were alone, but the younger girls were in giggling groups.

With the younger girls, obviously, Steve didn't really flirt with them. He just gave them sweet smiles, a free candy each, and called them young ladies, and that apparently was enough to set them off and have them squealing and sprinting out of the store.

The ones more around their age, however, were the problem. If he didn't know Steve and just watched these interactions with these girls, he'd swear he was head over heels for every single one, still with the baseline of sweet smiles, candy and young lady, but with the added leaning into their space, an occasional innuendo, brushing past them to reach for the thing on the top shelf that they absolutely had to have. The ladies older than them all received a kiss on the back of the hand. The ones older than that got him to run around the counter, a kiss on each cheek, before they pinched his face with glee and then he'd collect their shopping for them.

To look at him in the moment, you'd swear he was having the time of his life, but as soon as he'd waved them goodbye, he'd flop into the chair opposite Eddie, looking worn out, "Tell me something, Ed. Anythin'" he'd sigh, and Eddie with a pool of venomous jealousy simmering in his stomach would do just that. Tell him about something he wrote, an idea, something he just read about, or a story. Whatever it was would calm and recharge him, put a gentle smile back on his face.

There had been some other changes, too. Maybe because he saw these extra facets of Steve, but Eddie swapped the knight in his story for something else that had captured his imagination over the last few years. Science fiction. Extraterrestrials specifically. He found them in an odd way relatable.

In his mind, they'd travel the universe, studying the planets and other life forms to report back on, and didn't mean any harm for the most part. They were kinda strange looking and had weird ways and customs he could invent. He bet that if they did exist, their society would be so advanced it wouldn't have strange rules around what love is acceptable and what isn't. If it's all consenting adults, what did it actually matter? But apparently, on Earth, it still did.

He wished that wasn't on his mind as much as it seemed to be all the time lately. It felt dishonest to feel that way about his friend. He was trying his best not to, but it was difficult when Steve was so kind, funny, supportive, welcoming, handsome, and, even though he'd scoff or pull a face when Eddie would mention it, he was smart, too. Maybe he was not smart in the way a professor was, but he'd challenge any professor to get through any day of Steve's in one piece without struggling.

Sometimes, the register got jammed and Steve knew exactly the correct amount of leverage to use with his mom's nail file to open it without damaging it. His mental arithmetic was flawless. Pricing as he worked out percentage discounts at the drop of a hat. He was bilingual, quadrilingual if you counted the mixed language of Italian and English spoken around here as its own language, which Eddie thought it should be, and the silent hand gesture conversations he'd have with his mom. He knew the geography and history of this area better than anyone else. A cartographer in the making when anyone was lost looking for directions. 

Despite being able to list many things Steve seemed to be an expert at, one thing has illuded Eddie, and that is Steve's dream. He must have them. Eddie sometimes watches him daydream at the counter while waiting for one of the delivery guys to finish what he needs to do so Steve can sit with him again.

"Did you ever think of taking up art?" Eddie asked, without looking up, avoiding any pressure for him to answer.

"Nah, it's fun. Couldn't do it for a living, though," he said without looking up from the apple he had been drawing. Eddie was teaching him about shading techniques.

Eddie continued shading the side of an oddly shaped planet, "What about History, or I dunno, tourism? You know so much about this place, Steve. People would be interested in knowing about it. People who visit would pay hand over fist for a real tour of this part of Chicago. What with all the Al Capone stuff, Little Hell, and Death's Corner. The best time to hit the planetarium and Lincoln Park. The safe nightlife spots, the best pizza and coffee in town-" Steve's chuckle cut him off.

"Eddie," he said fondly, "You know those are things you like, not the general public. It's not sure money," Steve reminds him, and Eddie looks up with a slightly guilty smile, "I like it here. I like running this place. I've been doing it for years. I know this place and how it runs," Steve said enthusiastically.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that running this place wasn't enjoyable," Eddie apologised and attempted to take a chance, "I guess I talk to you about my dreams and ideas all the time, and I wanted to see if you wanted to do the same?" Eddie looked down quickly, afraid of the expression that might cross Steve's face.

But he heard a gentle "Oh, um," from Steve. Curiously, he sounded nervous, and in that realisation, Eddie thought this might be a mistake.

Eddie sat up and looked at him with a smile, "Hey, I was just wondering, you know? Just being my usually talkin' too much self," but Steve was just looking at him, a soft surprise showing on his face.

"I, uh, no, I wanna answer, just, uh, no one's asked me that in a real long time," Steve stumbled over his words. Eddie could see him chewing on his lip nervously, and it shouldn't, but it intrigues him. Steve hardly ever looks nervous. 

Eddie placed his pad and pencil down slowly and quietly, said nothing, just waited patiently and sipped his coffee.

"It's kinda dumb," Steve said forlornly, and Eddie absolutely cannot have that.

"Your dreams are not dumb!" Eddie said firmly, leaning across the small table.

"Well, you ain't heard it yet," a half smile twitched on Steve's lips, but Eddie knew that wasn't through amusement, not the way his eyes looked unsure. He looked between Eddie and the table a few times, "Don't worry if you wanna laugh, just laugh, okay, but don't tell anyone, alright?" Steve looked at him. Analysed his expression, and though their features differed, he recognised it from when he'd seen it on his own face. He knew the feeling that caused it. The anticipated hurt before the strike. Eddie would give anything to have reached over and clasped his hands in his own, telling him he would never laugh at his dreams, but instead, he just nodded.

Steve took a breath, looked directly at Eddie, and then wrapped his arms around himself. His hands holding his elbows. "I think I wanna, maybe, I dunno, something to do with food. Like a chef but not just shovelling out courses, ya know?"

Eddie thought he knew what he was getting at, but he wanted Steve to continue. He tilted his head and gave him a big closed-mouth smile, "Well, there isn't anything ridiculous about that, buddy. But can I ask you a question about it?"

Eddie watched Steve's arms fall gently to his lap, "Yeah, sure. Shoot," 

"Round here, there are a few restaurants already. Didn't you try getting a job there?"

"I did. I was a bus boy, helped out with prep and stuff, but then I couldn't do both and school. I gotta sleep sometime," Steve laughed.

Then suddenly, all the pieces started slotting together for Eddie. Steve has been running this place with his mom for years. He had to give up his restaurant job, and he mentioned school, so probably that, too. Eddie thinks back further. Steve gave his bike to Jonny. He never pursued any of the girls that came in here. He rarely went out. When he did, it was an errand or with him.

Steve's life was on pause. He was Eddie's age, and he was co-running a business, making sure his family had everything they needed. Through no one's fault, Steve was shouldering a burden that shouldn't have ever fallen to him to carry. But he did every day. Rain or shine. Eddie couldn't help but be reminded of one of his favourite characters, Frodo Baggins from The Lord of the Rings books. A sweet guy plunged into the unimaginable. His life turned on its head instantly, the fate of his loved ones hanging around his neck like a weight, draining the life out of him.

This was Steve's life now. His Dad wasn't going to magically turn up and save the day.

"Ed? You okay?" Steve looked concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, good. I was just thinking." Eddie swallowed down the lump in his throat.

"I told ya it was stupid," Steve said, shrinking before he stood.

Eddie leapt out of his seat urgently and grabbed hold of his arm. At the contact, Eddie remembered his breath leaving him altogether, not just because maybe grabbing an upset Steve might land him on the wrong side of a knuckle sandwich, but because of how Steve had looked at him. Perhaps he knew Eddie's deep, dark secret. Like Steve knew how glorious it felt for Eddie to feel his warm skin under his cool fingertips. How he felt the muscles of Steve's arm in his grip and had fought desperately not to give in and run his thumb over them. Eddie quickly looked to the table to avoid his eyes and guided Steve back to his chair with a much looser grip.

"That wasn't what I was thinking. I swear. Please, let me explain," Eddie said quietly. The shame made his voice small. To his surprise, Steve hadn't yanked his arm away but let himself be led back to his seat and sat down. As Eddie sat in his own chair, he couldn't help but notice Steve had placed a hand over where Eddie had grabbed him, and he wondered if that was because he hurt him or if he just felt weird about it. But Eddie couldn't take it back. He wished that he could.

"I was just thinking, maybe I could help out here sometimes. I mean, I'm here all the time anyw-"

"No! No fuckin' way! You're writin', an-and doin' your drawin's. For your book. No, and that's final!" Steve said sternly, and Eddie recognised that, too. The absolute horror of someone doing something for you out of pity.

He finally looked into Steve's eyes as if that was enough to convince him of his truth, "I can write and draw anywhere. Whether I sit here or behind that counter, and you know, sometimes it's good for my brain to take a break, to just think for a while. So it's more hungry to get back to what I want? Don't you want that, Steve? Don't you want to feel that hunger for your dream?" Eddie felt his chest noticeably rising and falling as he inadvertently worked himself up. His words increased with passion as the thought of Steve abandoning his dreams grew in his mind, and he wouldn't have it. He respected Steve, but this felt wrong. And it felt even worse to sit there and let him walk away, not knowing that Steve should have the same chances as everyone else.

Steve blinked at him, his mouth parted slightly, and Eddie wished he would say something. Anything. But he wasn't talking, and Eddie felt the desperation take hold, as he felt his friendship possibly slipping away as he revealed a more passionate side of himself. But he was in it and might as well say it all.

"I just think you've helped me so much. I wanna help you, and now I know your dream isn't this. I can't just sit here and pretend it is," Eddie's eyebrows pinched together, eager for Steve to understand, "You deserve a chance, Steve, and it's no one's fault that it's been pulled away from you. But I could maybe pull it closer? If you let me help."

Steve's expression didn't change much other than him biting his bottom lip. The world around them seemed to disappear for Eddie until finally, Steve spoke, "I'd have to ask, Ma. I don't want her to feel bad about all of this. It's not her fault either."

"No, I know that. I know, okay," Overheated, Eddie removed the knitted jumper. He didn't want to get it all sweaty. He began pacing backwards and forwards, deep in thought, until it came to him, "What about… Yeah, what about I ask your mom for a job? I could do with the money, and it could help me get to know people around here," he sees Steve shift in his seat at that. Maybe he thought Eddie might try and muscle in on the local girls, "You know, for writing."

"You wanna ask my Ma for a job, to work in this store, just so I can cook things?" Steve said.

"No. No, Steve!" Eddie said dramatically, rounding the table and crouching beside him, "So you can shoot for the moon!"

Steve's expression looked almost afraid, so Eddie backed up a little, "What if I don't make it to the moon, huh? What if I fail?"

"Then you'll be amongst the stars, Steve. You'll have tried. You'd have given it your best shot," Eddie's eyes darted between Steve's pleading as they plunged back into silence again, and it was in that stalemate he realised two terrifying things.

He wasn't just pleading with Steve. He was pleading with himself, too, don't give up , and more than that, he realised that maybe having a sense of normalcy in his life, like a job, might actually take the pressure off of himself to create. Especially when he was stuck. He could still get a sense of achievement out of something else. He could help out more at home.

But the thing that scared him the most was because Eddie realised at that moment how delusional he actually was about this situation. The worry that entered Eddie's head before he'd gotten so passionate was he couldn't face watching the person he loved not have everything they wanted. Like he and Steve were going to be like that forever. The crushing reality was one day, Steve would get married to whichever girl he chose, and Eddie would just be there occasionally for a beer or party. What they had these last few weeks would be long gone, even if it was just friendship. It still meant so much to Eddie.

And then there was that word. Love. Like a goddess, terrifying and beautiful, antidote and poison, cruel and kind, saviour and torturer. Something Eddie thought would never enter his world finally had. He wished he was back in Hawkins to talk to Wayne about all of this. And he really wished it hadn't happened between him and another man, especially not his best friend.

Eddie backed away again, stood up, sat back in his seat, scanned his eyes along a shelf of canned produce, and was about to apologise when Steve spoke, "You'd do that? For me?"

"Well, of course I would," Eddie replied like it was the most ridiculous thing on the planet, "You're my best friend," he said. I love you, he thought. He wanted to be his Samwise or at least his eagles.

"Maybe, uh, maybe you could ask her tonight, at dinner?" Steve muttered quietly.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, I will," Eddie reassured him.

"You ever worked in a store before?" Steve asked, and Eddie didn't miss how the corner of his mouth ticked up into almost a smile. Eddie laughed with relief but also the realisation that he was asking for a job where he had next to no idea how to do. He shook his head in a no as the chuckles spilt out of him, and to his delight, they bubbled up out of Steve, too.

"Come on, lemme show you a few things. Get you a head start with Ma," Steve beamed at him.

For the rest of the day, Steve let Eddie shadow him. He showed Eddie how he rotates the stock, how the store is divided into sections to make it easier for customers to find what they want, where the price cards and the markers are, the knack with the register, and the tidbits of information Steve had about each of the customers who came into the store. Finally, he showed Eddie the back room, where all the stock is kept.

It was dark and cramped back there. A little wooden step ladder leaned against the shelves that towered over them and lined all the walls and in between. Even with the light on, it didn't quite reach some areas back there, making him a little on edge. Something brushed past his leg, and Eddie let out a less-than-flattering yelp of surprise, but Steve only laughed and bent down to pick the unseen offender up.

It was a big old moon-faced cat with deep black fur, and light eyes save for the void in its pupil. Steve held the cat up, and its head bumped his chin, "Security," Steve laughed, "His name's Caesar."

"How come I've not seen him before?" Eddie asked. It was a large cat, and the fact he hadn't seen it in the store or out front the whole time he'd been coming here seemed strange.

"Well, there are two reasons. He generally keeps to the back or upstairs and doesn't tend to like new people that much." Steve smiled at the cat, slowly blinking up at him, and Eddie could hear how loudly it was purring from where he'd stood, "The second reason is you only know he's there when he wants you to know he's there." Steve turned to Eddie, "Did he scratch ya?"

"No, just caught me by surprise, is all. Just against my leg,"

Steve scoffed out a laugh as he frowned, "Really? Hmmm," he looked back at the cat in his arms, "You cast your judgement, did ya?" The cat pawed at his face and purred loudly again, making Steve laugh, an adorably uncurated laugh that Eddie wanted to remember forever. He placed Caeser back on the ground and turned his attention toward Eddie, "You think you can handle all this?" Steve smiled.

"I think so, yeah. Well, I'm gonna try my best, and I am a pretty quick learner," Eddie beamed back at him.

Then he'd felt something unusual as if the air around him had become charged with something, and he'd become very conscious of how close they were together in this dim lighting. Which was strange because they had been closer than this so many times that day, but none of them had felt like this. Like something was going to happen, but Eddie had no idea what.

The muted light was playing tricks and tugging at his heartstrings. Making it seem like the highlights in Steve's eyes sparkled just for him. Or shadows beneath each of his lips had Eddie's name hidden within them.

Steve broke the atmosphere by turning his eyes to a box of tins that he handed over to Eddie and then grabbed his own. "You keep your eyes on me," he said, walking toward the door. Eddie followed quickly after him and came to a clumsy stop when Steve halted in the doorway and looked over his shoulder with a smirk, "Just like you always do, Eddie." 

Even standing pale in front of the mirror now, Eddie recalled how glad he had been that Steve couldn't see him then. His face must have been as red as the can of tomatoes he was carrying.

While Steve left Eddie to restock the tomatoes, the whirlwind of the rest of the Harringtons raced through the store. Steve handed out things from a box he had already made up of fruit and candy as they tore past. Robertina, who goes by Robin, Steve told him, took pause as Eddie saw her observe his empty table in the corner of the store. Steve nodded in Eddie's direction, and Robin made direct eye contact with him, almost making him drop the cans he was holding, but he managed to make the save and smiled awkwardly.

Eddie was used to the other Harringtons blasting past him and Steve waving them on to do their homework, not acknowledging him, but in that look, it was clear he was very much noticed. As she narrowed her eyes at him playfully, it still made him feel like he might be suspected, but when she said nothing, took her apple and jogged after the others, Eddie relaxed and turned back to the shelves.

Steve guided him through a gradual close-down, explaining that he stayed open a little longer for those running late from work, as they were only picking up cigarettes, drinks, or something grab-and-go. When one such customer came in, Steve grabbed the cigarettes he knew they'd buy while they grabbed their sodas and pulled Eddie in front of the register.

He wasn't sure if it was Steve's hand wrapping around his arm tugging him towards him or the anxiety of serving his first customer making his palms sweat and the numbers on the register look like symbols from an ancient civilisation. But Eddie took a breath and plugged in the numbers.

"New staff, Stefano?" The man asked as Eddie packed the small grocery bag for him.

"Hope so, Pauly. Hope so. Whats ya verdict?" Steve smirked as Eddie looked between the two of them nervously.

The man smiled warmly, "Don't be so nervous, kid. We ain't so bad."

Eddie smiled in return and handed the guy his change.

Pauly checked the money in his hand and nodded his thanks to Eddie, "Ay, would ya look at that. It is possible not to get shortchanged 'ere," he said, grinning at Steve, who immediately rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Get outta here. You ain't never been shortchanged here, Pauly. Just you expect a discount that don't exist," Steve called after him, laughing as he left and waved him away playfully.

Steve's eyes fell on Eddie, as did that dashing smile. Suddenly, the room became hot and small again.

"You did great today, Ed," Steve said, patting him on the back. The hand of which smoothed across his shoulder blade and rested on his shoulder.

"If Ma agrees, I can let you get more practice on the register and with the customers."

Eddie nodded, "Yeah. I definitely could get more practice with people, not one of my strengths."

Steve gave a light laugh down his nose and shook his head. If anyone had dreamed of doing that to him in the past, he would have painted it as condescending and immediately got his hackles up, but when Steve did it, well, when Steve did anything, there wasn't a drop of ill intent in it, and all Eddie could see and feel, were these bonds of friendship growing bolder and tighter.

How he wished that could be something much more. 

"Everyone I like that has met you thinks you're great. The customer thing is more to show people you aren't just a member of staff. You're one-a us," Steve smiled kindly and added quickly, "Not to be fucked with, ya know?"

Eddie was incredibly glad his hip was pressed into the counter because he felt like his knees had vanished for a moment when Steve made him part of his territory.

He knew that Steve meant so people wouldn't give him a hard time as the new guy, but in Eddie's dreams later, that was going to mean so much more.

He nodded dumbly in response because speaking was not an option.

"Stefano! Mangiare," he heard Steve's mom yell from upstairs.

Eddie had heard that enough to know it was a call to food, especially combined with the way Steve hurriedly took off his apron, dumped it on the counter, pulled out the register draw and started to head upstairs.

He paused to look back, "What ya waiting' for, Ed, a handwritten invitation or somethin'?" Steve said with a light laugh.

"No, I was just gonna head home to wash up and change," Eddie replied nervously.

"You can wash up here, come on," Steve said, nodding to the stairs, and Eddie was helpless to follow.

And that was precisely what Eddie had done. Steve had directed him to a small washroom with a toilet and basin, explaining that the one upstairs would have a queue but that Eddie should come up straight after.

 Eddie had happily nodded and agreed, headed into the small room, pulled the book latch over where the bolt should have been, and stood at the basin, his world had come crashing down around him.

As he looked at his reflection, he realised he still had his hat on. The hat he always had on because this is how he hid his long hair.

A cold chill ran down Eddie's spine. He was in a no-win situation. You cannot wear a hat to a dinner table , but he also couldn't bolt home because he'd be letting Steve down. All that talk about helping Steve with his dream would be absolute horse shit if he ran home now. Maybe he'd lose Steve's trust forever and his friendship.

He slid off his hat and removed a hairpin.

And that's why Eddie was standing in front of the old medicine cabinet with scissors poised to cut his hair. His hair could grow back, but his bond with Steve could be lost forever.

But as his world dropped to slow motion, the bright gleam of scissors he'd found against the dense darkness of his hair only made the lump in his throat harder to swallow.

He steels himself, trying to convince his mind that everything would be easier after the first snip. He'd do a countdown, just snip off the end, and quickly butcher the rest.

3, 2, 1

"Eddie? Are you ok in there? We're almost ready to plate up," Steve's smooth voice came through the door's wood.

"Yeah, I'll be right out just, a bit nervous is all," Eddie thought using the truth might make his lie more convincing.

"Hey, listen, you got nothing to be nervous about. You know everyone, and we don't have to do the job thing. It doesn't matter, just come and get something to eat, ok?" Steve requests gently.

Eddie can hear the disappointment in Steve's voice, and it's enough to snip the end of his hair off.

"Eddie, what was that?"

"Nothing. I'll be right there."

"What are you doing in there?"

"I'm just freshening up, I'll be right out,"

"Eddie, why are you lying? What is going on? Let me in. Whatever it is, we can talk about it. I'm happy here. I don't need the other stuff, ok?" Steve's voice drops quieter, but Eddie can hear his concern perfectly.

Eddie doesn't reply. He just holds up a strand of hair with the scissors at the base, vibrating with emotions of all kinds, staring at himself in the mirror when the latch lifted and the door opened.

"Sorry for barging in, Ed, but you're worrying-"Steve starts to say, averting his eyes until he realises Eddie is dressed at the sink, and then he looks over him and freezes for a second before closing the door quietly behind him.

"What is this?" Steve says, gesturing to what Eddie is doing, and then his eyes are everywhere all over Eddie's hair, his pride and his shame.

Steve's mouth is making a perfect o shape, but no sound is omitted from his lips.

"Steve, I can explain. Just please don't tell anyone else. I-I can just go," Eddie stutters, realising he's still wielding the scissors as he backs away from Steve in a tiny space. He sets them down on the sink between them as his legs hit the toilet bowl behind him. He raises his hands, palms out in defence, and screws his eyes shut for the incoming insult or thump.

But neither comes, just the sound of the medicine cupboard closing and the soft fabric on the lining of his hat on his fingertips.

"Put ya hat back on, and come to dinner," Steve says quietly with a slight smile as he clears the curl of hair from the sink.

"But you're not supposedta-" Eddie starts to protest, but Steve simply turns to him and repeats himself.

"Put ya hat back on, and come to dinner, Eddie," Steve says with those kind eyes that make Eddie want to cry because they keep giving him chance after chance, "Don't worry about what ya supposed to do, and do what I ask. I'll handle the rest."

Steve leaves him, closing the door behind him, and Eddie can hear him jogging back up the stairs. He can hear the muffled rise and fall in volume of a language he doesn't understand. One voice is unmistakably Steve's, the rest a cacophony of others until his mom silences them all with a few words, and with that, he hears the scraping of chairs and the general rumble of conversation.

He looks at himself in the mirror, neatens himself up, washing his face and hands, and finally puts his hat back on as Steve requested.

His heart pounds as he leaves the bathroom. Every stair he takes pushes a new worry in his mind of what excuse he could use and how disrespectful they might think he is being. Was it an insult to Steve's mom?

Before he can talk himself out of it, he's in the open doorway and can hear all the commotion and chatter inside. He awkwardly steps in, his hands clasped in front of him, before giving a swallow and shy wave, "Hi," he manages, looking around at the faces seated at the large dining table, but can't find the one he's looking for, Steve.

"Eddie, sweet boy, come-a sit down, Stefano is ina kitchen," She says with a warm smile, walking up to Eddie and taking his arm, guiding him towards one of two empty seats next to one another.

"Wait, maybe I should go help," Eddie offers, gesturing toward the kitchen, but she shakes her head in response.

“No Stefano, wona be long. You sita down," She ushered him into the seat between the empty one and the youngest sister, Max, with the bright red hair.

The young girl turns to look at him for a moment. She squints at his hat, which almost makes him break out into a sweat if it not for the clatter of swing doors as Steve reverses into the room, arms laden with bowls of food that he dishes out around the table. 

He serves his mom first, giving her a kiss on the cheek as he does so, and Eddie's heart thumps as he thinks this might be a custom, but is relieved to see that isn't the case as Steve puts some other bowls down in front of his siblings, to a mixture of faces ranging from excitement to disgust, as Steve weaves his body, primarily directed by hips, around the dining chairs and table corners.

"Hey, you made it! That door gets stuck sometimes. Don't worry. Happens to everyone," Steve gives him a sweet half smile.

"Yeah," the curly-haired brother scoffed, "I got stuck in there a full twenty minutes the other day, and someone wouldn't help me out."

"I was accepting a delivery. You know I gotta pay attention they don't mess it up Dus'" Steve says, pushing past the kitchen saloon-type doors again.

Dus widens his eyes at Robin, "And what was your excuse?"

"I was watching Steve accept the delivery," she replies without taking her eyes off her reflection in her compact mirror as she grumbles at a pimple emerging on her face.

"You were not!" Dus slams his fist on the table. "You were outside giggling with Max!"

"Oh, I suppose Will snitched on us, did he?" Max snaps back, rolling her eyes. 

"Don't take it personally, Max, Will snitches on everyone," Robin sneers in the young quiet boy's direction.

Will shifts uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with his siblings. He takes a deep breath and finally speaks up, his voice barely above a whisper, "I didn't snitch. I just… I just said I heard someone laughing outside. I didn't know it was you. I was just trying to help Dus when he was stuck."

"Basta!" Mrs Harrington shouts, and the table falls to silence. Her expression softens, and she turns to Eddie, "Means, stop," she adds, reaching over to pat his hand.

Eddie takes a moment to look around at the food in the bowls, and his stomach sinks. He knows what this is. He saw it in a movie a few years ago. The one with all the dogs in. He's even heard his mom talk about how delicious it is, but he has never actually eaten it himself. 

Spaghetti.

He wasn't accustomed to food he couldn't shovel onto a fork or spoon and then straight into his mouth. And this was not that kind of food. Well, it could be if he cut it up. He decides to wait to see what the Harrington's do.

The kitchen saloon doors swing open again, and Steve returns with the last three bowls of spaghetti. One for Robin, and then he sits next to Eddie and puts their bowls down simultaneously, giving Eddie that smile that made the rest of the room disappear.

"Hope you like it, Eddie. It's a family recipe," he beams excitedly, and the sparkle in Steve's eyes means whatever this food tastes like, this will be his new favourite meal.

"Who's family? Not mine. There is a distinct lack of parm on the top here," Dus complains, Max hums in agreement.

"First of all, you can help yourself to as much cheese as you want, after prayer. Second, you should really think about cutting back on the cheese at your age," Steve says matter-of-factly.

Dus and Max are aghast, much to the hidden amusement behind Will's hand.

"You hear that, Ma? He called us fat!" Dus pleads his case to his mom, and she immediately leans over, strokes his cheek, and looks disappointedly at Steve.

"Stefano. Please. No talk about your brother like that. My sweet boy, look at his perfect angel face," She coos, pinching Dus' cheek.

Steve pulls an exasperated face at Dus, who is grinning back hugely, and then turns to his mom.

"Ma, I would never. I was just talking about how his body sometimes reacts after too much dairy, ya know? When you get to this age, you gotta watch that stuff. Could give him pimples."

His mom looks confused for a second. "Brufolo," Steve adds and pokes at his own face, making his mom gasp.

"No! No, my angel boy. Das it. No more for you." Mrs Harrington says with an urgency as she pats Dus' cheek.

"But Ma!" He protests.

"No, but ma, Destino, listen to your brother. Stefano always has the most beautiful skin."

Dus, Dustin, or Destino, as it appeared to be his full name, glares daggers at Steve, who easily bats them away with a pump of his eyebrows and smug smile laced with mischief.

Robin rolls her eyes, "Enough golden boy competition. The food is getting cold."

Max hums her agreement.

Eddie watches everyone bow their head and clasp their hands together. He pauses to take it in, and got a slight nudge from Max, and quickly follows suit.

He has little to no idea what Mrs Harrington says next. He recognises a few names. He is surprised to hear his own and his mom's and also makes out the words for food and thanks. He hears a few words repeated throughout, Dio and Signore. He makes a mental note to ask what they mean later.

He hears the familiar 'Amen', which the rest of the table says in unison, and Eddie mumbles on the tail end of it.

Then it is as if it's suddenly rush hour. Everyone is reaching for cutlery or grated cheese. Dus gets his hand slapped away by everyone except for Eddie whenever he goes for the cheese. Eddie notices that no one touches the salt and pepper even though it's on the table.

Steve passes Eddie a fork and stabs his own into his food, twirling it around and eating what was on the fork in one bite. He falls back in his chair and makes a noise that Eddie thinks might haunt his dreams for the rest of time as he chews his mouthful.

"Mmmmm, Ma. You've outdone yourself. Perfect. Bellisima." He gushes, kissing his bunched fingers and seemingly throws the kiss somewhere in the room.

Mrs Harrington beams proudly at Steve.

"Take it down a notch, Romeo. You already got out of doing the dishes by serving and making dessert," Robin snorts sarcastically.

Steve makes noise through his teeth at her like he's trying to shoo away a pesky stray.

"Robertina, be nice, and Stefano is no a Romeo," Mrs Harrington starts, pulling a disgusted face, "He's a good boy. No chasing strange girls or shoutin' up at de 'ouze" 

"You sure about that? He's always shouting up at this house. Ma! I'll do it once I've finished daydreaming! " Max points out, utilising an excellent impression of Steve, to Eddie's surprise.

There is a smattering of giggles from Steve's siblings, even a fond smile on Mrs Harrington's face, but all Eddie can read from Steve is worry. Was he concerned Eddie might think less of him because his family were teasing him?

"You know that's how I come up with a lot of my ideas," Eddie blurts out, and it's as much a surprise to him as anyone else, "I think we all do it a little for inspiration, whether it's poetry, comedy, science, adventure, cooking, problem-solving, music, any-anything really," Eddie started to get a lot quieter when every face at the table has turned to him.

At first, he's concerned he's talked out of turn, but every face has a gentle smile on it. He turns to Steve for direction, but he's met with a killer half smile that makes him feel like his heart might burst right through his ribs and top his spaghetti.

"Guglielmo, good day at school?"

"Mama, please, it's Will."

"I didda not spend hours in pain to call you Will under my roof," she frowns.

"Sorry, Mama," Will concedes softly and gives a quiet recollection of his day.

A gentle nudge in the other side of his ribs startles him, pulling his thoughts from their chaotic spiral. Steve's voice, low and warm, whispers into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. "If you don't like it, I can make you something else. Ma won't mind."

Eddie shakes his head quickly, feeling a blush creeping up his neck. "No, no, it smells delicious. I just, uh..." His words fumble, faltering when his gaze met Steve's. 

There is something disarming in the way Steve's hazel eyes hold his own, but it is too much, too risky, so Eddie drops his gaze back to the bowl in front of him and grabs his fork in a desperate attempt to focus.

No matter how hard he tries, he can't get the damn spaghetti to stay on his fork. He almost gets it to his mouth a few times and fails at the last second.

Steve laughs softly, the sound vibrating through the air, wrapping around Eddie like a warm blanket. He sighs, offering an apologetic smile to the most beautiful man he's ever laid eyes on. Movie stars included.

"Like this," Steve said softly.

Eddie almost passes out because of what is happening. Steve is shuffled up next to him. Part of his chest is pressed up behind Eddie's upper arm, and it only adds to the passing out problem due to the impossible heat he can now feel where they touch. But it's about to get so much worse because Steve doesn't take Eddie's fork from him. Instead, Steve wraps his hand around Eddie's, his fingers warm and steady, guiding Eddie's trembling hand with ease.

The only safe thing to do is keep his eyes on the demonstration and whatever he does, not look up at Steve because if he does, then everyone will know. Every single person at this table will know about his gigantic crush on his best friend.

This had to be some kind of dream. Steve's breath was ghosting across Eddie's cheek now, and it took everything in him not to lean into it. The smell of Steve's cologne mixed with the faint scent of tomatoes, some kind of herbs, and the slightly sweet smell of powdered sugar. That last one he was more familiar with. That meant Steve had baked. He let a small smile break free from the knowledge that these little Steve details were neatly tucked away for himself.

But he must not look at him. Because if he did, if he saw that same warm, easy expression on Steve's face, there would be no hiding it. No hiding the fact that his heart was practically beating out of his chest, no hiding how desperately in love he is with his best friend.

His hand shook slightly in Steve's grip, and he prayed Steve didn't notice. He guessed he could blame it on nerves.

"Ed, you alright?" Steve's voice, quiet with concern, broke through his thoughts. Eddie's breath caught in his throat, and at the sound of his name wrapped in the most heavenly voice, he was met with Steve's soft, worried gaze. His honey eyes, always warm, always so full of something Eddie couldn't quite read, were locked on his. "Thought I lost you for a second there."

Then by some deity in the universe showing pity on him, he sucks in a breath and laughs weakly, "No, all the twirling. It's, uh, hypnotic."

There is a laugh from the end of the table, "He's right, with the sauce. It looks like the posters for that Vertigo movie," Will chuckles.

A small argument breaks out about how Will has even seen that poster, the blame falling on Max and Robin. Steve smiles then, slow and genuine, making the rest of the room fade away. For a moment, it's just them. The way Steve's fingers linger on Eddie's hand a second too long, the quiet intimacy of their closeness. Steve's smile, so disarming, sends a flutter through Eddie's chest, and for the briefest second, Eddie lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, Steve isn't so unattainable after all. 

Then Eddie's fantasy world shatters as Steve releases him and gestures for him to put the spaghetti-constricted fork into his mouth, which he does without question.

At first, the textures are unusual, but the flavours are all recognisable as things he's familiar with. Everything tastes so fresh. Like they plucked the tomato straight off the vine, and it was bursting in his mouth. The cheese was saltier than he was used to, but the combination of it with the spaghetti was out of this world.

Eddie leans back in his seat, closes his eyes, and understands completely why Steve made that noise after his first mouthful earlier. This meal is delicious.

When he reopens his eyes, he is met with the smiling faces of Steve and his Mom, who quickly look back to their own food. Without eyes on him, Eddie tries again to master the spaghetti on his fork. 

The first few tries are a weak effort of a few strands of spaghetti making it to his mouth. Another time, he winds it so well he has enough on his fork to fill his entire mouth. A few unravel just before getting consumed, and he sucks them in as he'd seen Steve doing and, for his attempt, gets attacked by sauce flicking from the stray ends on the tip of his nose and on his cheek.

Eddie picks up the napkin his fork has been resting on and wipes his face and mouth as best he can. He's sure he is a complete mess, as is his shirt, but he would gladly throw this shirt into a furnace if it meant Steve turned and smiled at him like he was doing right now. Sweet, confident, maybe a little impressed?

"That was fantastic," Eddie said, rubbing his very full stomach.

"Not bad for your first time," Steve praises, and Eddie sits a little taller.

"You learn fast. That's very good, Eddie," Steve's Mom nods her praise, "Very smart. Very smart to be friends with Stefano. He's a good boy."

"Ma," Steve says with a laugh in an effort for her to stop.

"Too good for the girls in this city. They no appreciate him. He works hard, very kind, very handsome, very loyal, don't you think, Eddie?" She asks, holding Steve's chin and turning it towards Eddie.

He can see the slight rosiness on his cheeks of embarrassment and the rolling of eyes, but this is Eddie's chance to be honest, "Ma, please," Steve tries again.

"I think so, Mrs Harrington. Stev-Stefano is a really great guy," he answers fondly, and Steve gives him a bashful smile in return. his chin is let go of, and Mrs Harrington's eyes are fixed on Eddie, "My Mama thinks so too." Eddie adds quickly, "Want me to help clear the plates?"

Mrs Harrington shakes her head, "No, no, Eddie. You are a guest. Today anyway," she smiles mischievously. Eddie figures she means when he starts working there, he will be allowed to help out more, but he realises he has yet to ask her.

"Hey, Dus. Eddie has changed up his story. It's about all that space alien stuff you're into," Steve says as he starts gathering up the plates, and as he heads back into the kitchen, his Mom follows him.

"Really? You know about sci-fi? What about Cryptids? You know what they are?" Dustin quizzes Eddie, and he notices Will is also very interested in how this conversation will go. He pulls out a copy of Strange Tales from under the table and clutches it to his chest. Truthfully, it looks like it's on the verge of falling apart, but he seemed very attached to it.

"What like Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster and the Jersey Devil?" Eddie asks in return. The duet of gasps from the boys meant he was on the money. They quickly move around, slamming two notebooks on the table to show Eddie their theories.

Amidst the hum of conversation, two things happen, the telephone rings, and someone starts coming up the stairs.

"PINA!" A deep voice yells up the stairs, "I got ya beef, and I left the baking stuff in the store room, cus ain't no way I'm dragging that and my sorry ass all the way up these stairs, because-" 

The exquisitely suited man in the doorway stops talking as his eyes meet Eddie's. He starts talking that non-verbal language all the Harrington's do.

His eyes rapidly scan over Will and Dustin, and the assessment is the age gap is too large for them to be friends. He doesn't even bother looking at Max and raises an eyebrow at Robin, who shakes her head at him. He frowns momentarily in thought, then raises both eyebrows, and Robin rolls her eyes in response.

He extends a hand out towards Eddie, who is already getting out of his seat to shake it when suddenly he is whisked out of the room by Mrs Harrington. Eddie can hear them talking, and due to hearing the word Americano so often, he thinks he is the topic of at least part of the conversation.

Steve quickly emerges from the kitchen with a box of cannoli, "Sorry to cut our evening short, Ed. Unexpected guest," Steve says with a somewhat regretful smile.

"That's ok. It's getting late anyway. I should head back," Eddie lies. He was just getting the hang of things here, but maybe it was for the best he left before he got too comfortable around everyone, "I even forgot to ask your Mom about the job," Eddie cringes at his failure.

"Oh!" Steve exclaims in realisation, "Sorry, Ed, I got so caught up at the table. I forgot to say Robin already told her. She asked me in the kitchen, and she said yes," he says happily as he almost guides Eddie down the stairs using the baked goods as bait. Not that he needed those to lead Eddie anywhere.

"That's great news, when can I start? When can you start?" Eddie asks eagerly as they enter the store floor.

Steve stops walking, turns, looks him over with a huge smile, and shakes his head with a laugh, "Eddie Munson. You're like a dog with a bone, huh? Committed. Bet you'll make someone a great husband one day. I could always put in a word for you with the local ladies."

"Oh no!" Eddie says much too quickly, leaving him wide-eyed and terrified, "Wh-what I mean to say is, uh, is..."

Steve tilts his head at Eddie, a smirk on his face, "What you mean to say is?" he teased playfully.

"That because of my writing, I don't have the time for dating. And if I was to, you know, date someone, I'd wanna give them my entire attention, right?" he laughs nervously, "Court them properly. Dances, flowers, dinners, romantic strolls and night drives, stuff like that," Eddie's rapid flow of words is punctuated with a nervous swallow.

Steve raises an eyebrow, and his smirk morphs into a smile, "Yeah, stuff like that," he laughs as he gets to the door to hold it open for Eddie and hands him the box once he's outside.

"Well, goodnight. Thanks for everything today, and please thank your family for me, too. That was so great," Eddie says genuinely.

Steve leans in the doorway, his arms wrapped around himself, looking at the floor, "Course I will, and thank you, Ed. I never thought I'd have this chance again. All my brothers and sisters are gonna go to college. Ma's getting older, this place is still my future. But maybe, with what I've now got the chance to learn," he toes the top stair and then looks up and makes direct eye contact with Eddie, and it feels like Steve can see right into his soul, "I can make some changes. Keep the name, but change the business to suit me more."

Eddie nods supportively, "I know you will."

Then that feeling is there again, like in the storeroom, and Eddie isn't sure what it is, but it's giving him goosebumps. Steve goes to take a step down, but he's halted by his own name.

"STEFANO! TELEPHONO. IS NANCY!" Mrs Harrington shouts.

Eddie watches Steve take a deep breath and shouts up to the open window she's leaning out of, "MA! I told her I'd call her back! I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!"

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs, and mutters about patience. It confuses Eddie a little. He knew Steve and Nancy were a thing, but she was with Jonny now. Maybe things had changed. It was probably an excellent opportunity to show Steve he had his back.

"Must be tough being Little Italy's most eligible bachelor," Eddie chuckles, even though his heart is sinking.

Steve looks confused and goes to say something.

"STEFANO. NANCY!" Mrs Harrington shouts again, but this time spots Eddie, "Ah. Good night, Eddie, see you for your next shift," She smiles fondly at him and winks before retreating inside and closing the window.

Steve looks a little harassed, "Listen, Ed, I really gotta go, but uh, you got any Halloween plans? We was gonna go to a spooky old house and then my Uncle's club. Do you maybe wanna come?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," Eddie answers, nodding so enthusiastically that he thinks his head might come off.

Steve claps his hands, "Yes! I knew you'd be game. Ok, so, uh, yeah, see ya tomorrow?" 

"Of course! Maybe you can teach me why Ms Fiore always picks the pasta on the top shelf, no matter what kind you put up there."

"If I told you that, you might not wanna work here," Steve laughs, "Night, Ed. Thanks for everything."

"Night, Steve. See ya tomorrow," Eddie says with a salute and takes the short walk around the corner to his place.

It should take Eddie much less time than it does to reach the steps to the apartments, but the ingredients of the cool night air, a handful of incredible fantasifull moments, really helping Steve, even with the extra squeeze of bitter jealousy, didn't spoil the feast that filled his heart and mind.

Once indoors, he puts the cannoli in the refrigerator, leaves a note for his mama to let her know she was sent one, and heads to his room.

He hangs up his jacket and hat, heads to the bathroom to start unpinning his hair, to let it free, and chuckles at the blunt cut end, the other part of which is currently in a Harrington trash can.

After brushing his teeth, he heads to his bedroom and is just about to turn on the light when a warm glow catches his eye.

From the darkness of his room, he can see Steve's bedroom and more exciting than that, he can see Steve, who appears to be looking through a tin of papers and adding another folded piece of paper to it. Love notes, no doubt.

Eddie bites his lip. He shouldn't spy. It's wrong, maybe even creepy, but he swears if Steve removes any clothing, he'll look away.

Luckily, Steve does nothing of the sort unless you count kicking off his shoes. He flicks through a large box, produces a vinyl record, and puts it on the turntable.

Eddie observes him pull the arm over, and as the stylus must meet the groove, Steve closes his eyes and clutches the album sleeve to his chest.

He turns around a few times to a rhythm and words Eddie can't hear, but whatever it is, has Steve thinking about someone. The way he sighs deeply and flops back onto his bed, eyes closed and a gentle smile on his lips, spells out he's in love. Nancy must be really something to make a guy, who most of the area want for themselves, turn to mush.

Still out of sight, Eddie leans his chin on his hand, with his own sigh of longing. What he wouldn't give for it to be him that Steve was head over heels for.

Before Eddie can spend too long on that thought, Steve's bedroom door bursts open, and he startles but laughs when he sees it's Robin.

It takes Eddie a second, but he eventually realises from her outfit, miming and mannerisms that she's pretending to be Steve. She gets a pillow thrown at her for her efforts.

Soon, another figure joins the party. Eddie can make out the red hair crammed under a brown curly dress-up wig, her nose stuck in a book. 

Eddie recalled drawing the girls when he sat on the steps that day, and it's clear from Steve's half-annoyed, amused face that they were teasing him. Which made Max, Nancy.

Max-Nancy walks past Steve, engrossed in her book, and walks into something, sending her reeling back, only to be caught by the capable arms of Robin-Steve.

Steve waves his arms around in complaint about something, but it's too late. Robin-Steve and Max-Nancy are already waltzing around the room, only to stop on occasion when Robin-Steve pulls out a small bunch of grapes to feed to Max-Nancy.

The display should make Eddie boil with envy, but it is much too funny, especially when Steve chases them around and out of his room.

Eddie chuckles quietly in the dark and thinks about heading to bed himself. He takes one last look over at Steve, who, to his horror, appears to be looking right back at him.

Eddie freezes on the spot. The icy chill of being found out charges down his spine, but the fear is short-lived. Eddie takes one last adoring glance at Steve before he draws his curtains, and Eddie is left alone again.

[madaboutmunson]

Sweet Home Chicago Series - Stupid Cupid (Part 1/4)

Summary for overview of the whole fic can be found here

For @eddiemonth Week 1 prompts used Parents, Observant, Bad Reputation - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, Lost, Role Model, Crush, Warm Warnings: None that I could think of, but let me know if you feel any should be added, and I'll do that straight away :) Romance/Fluff Word Count : 13K Ao3 Link

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1959 Little Italy, Chicago

Eddie arrives at night, and unlike Hawkins, this place is still bustling. He can only imagine what it might be like tomorrow. Alive, vibrant and diverse. Everything back home wasn't. Wayne has driven him all the way here. Even though he said several times he had the money and was fine taking the bus alone, his uncle didn't want to hear it. Besides, it would be an excellent opportunity to catch up with Eddie’s Mom.

Eddie knew this was a half-truth. Wayne was a worrier, even though it cost him time and money for gas and food at rest stops. It at least meant that he knew Eddie was safe. It did give him a chance to catch up with his Mom, but this wouldn’t be a chit-chat. Wayne didn’t mean to be judgemental, but Eddie knew he wanted to check the place out, make sure his Mom was okay, and that Eddie would be OK here.

Eddie was eighteen now, a man. He’d often told Wayne he didn’t need him protecting him and his mother henning around him. But he knew that was a lie, too. Eddie was too different to not run into trouble, and they both knew that, even if Eddie had set his mind to starting over and being someone brand new in a place where he had a clean slate. He didn't have to be the loud, weird, bad kid here. He could be the quiet, unassuming budding author, and people would like him for that, not be put off by his previous self. 

Eddie was evolving. He could use this place to settle in and to mault. Rid himself of his disfunctions become healthy and normal. That's how you get ahead in life. An easy life.

He was so nervous. It had been some time since he’d seen his mom in person, though they generally stayed in touch with occasional phone calls, letters or parcels. In the last ten years since she left, maybe five Christmases and three birthdays. But she always called him.

Since he’d hit his teens, Wayne had little to discuss with his mom that Eddie couldn't communicate himself, other than the bad stuff that Eddie always conveniently left out.

Eddie had been a good kid. He just had a less-than-ideal start in life. His father was in and out of life more often than the changes of school term. There was no nice way of saying it. His dad was a criminal. Specifically a conman. His specialities lay in being charming, blending in and rustling up disguises out of basically nothing. Maybe if he had chosen the right path when he hit that fork in the road of life, he could have been a phenomenal actor. He easily imitated voices, sounds, and mannerisms, effortlessly embodying characters like donning or doffing his hat. Which made the rare bedtime stories he told masterpiece performances.

From what Eddie can recall of his parents' relationship, it was very loving, but they seemed to be stuck in the cycle of teenage love and angst over and over. One day, they would be dancing around the kitchen, gazing at one another across the table, hardly touching their food at all, or curled up on the sofa together like two love-sick kids. But the next could be a complete warzone, arguments over the same things, either his dad’s risky next job or his mom’s failure to keep a steady one. Maybe none of that would have been a problem for the two of them, but when the third part of that equation was a young, hyperactive, attention-starved, anxiety-riddled son, it just fueled the fire.

His Mom and Dad never called him a mistake, and they did give him the love they could spare, but they were very young, and Eddie came along before they’d even caught a glimpse of the vague edge of their dreams. Neither of them had great relationships with their parents. His Dad’s were distant. Disowned him for his sinful way of life, being the god-fearing people they were. His Mom doesn't even remember her mom, she only remembers her Dad, who was essentially her best friend her whole life until the Munsons muscled into the scene, and he wanted better for her. When they ran away to get married against everyone’s advice, it broke her Dad’s heart, and they never spoke in person again. Eddie guesses it made sense they would cling to one another when they must have felt like flotsam just bobbing about in the world, lost and alone.

Eddie’s dad, criminally charming as he was, never strayed from his mom. Never looked at another woman twice. His dad said that was because he had never met a girl like his mom before in his life. 

When the Munson’s arrived in Indiana, it was tough. Tougher for outsiders. That was just the way Hawkins always was. Tough as old boots. But thankfully, the Munsons lucked out because the nearest house to theirs was owned by a kind, neighbourly mechanic Widower with an only daughter.

Eddie loved hearing how his Dad’s voice would change when he remembered his mom from their youth. He, his mom and Wayne became fast friends, roaming around Hawkins together. A happy outsider trio, going on adventures, star and cloud gazing together, cannonballing into the lake. He’d recall his mom, Esmerelda, or Em as he liked to call her, was not only fun, but she could shoot better than any he knew. She would have made a great sniper. Plus, she could strip and reassemble a car engine in record time. Only sported a dress for church on Sundays. The rest of her time, she wore pants, a shirt and braces like the rest. Though usually covered with a streak of engine oil, dirt or flour. The cherry on top was just how beautiful she was. Big, piercing green eyes and long, luscious dark waves of hair that bounced around her face as she outran them both through the fields playing tag.

The three of them were thick as thieves, but as they moved into their teens, Al started to peel off into the more real dangerous side of things, which got him kicked out, and that left his Mom and Wayne, still reading stories, and letting their imaginations run riot in the skies above them at the lakeside, or inventing future dream lives for themselves on the tire swing at the Munson’s.

But the day finally came when Al got brought home by the sheriff himself. They banned him from town, so he was plunged back into Wayne and his Mom’s life with a thump. His parents wanted nothing to do with him, so his Mom’s father let him stay in a barn on his land. Though the three spent most of their days together as kids, Al seeing Esmerelda in her everyday home life enabled him to see more sides of her. Not just showing off, being goofy or tough, but kind, careful, generous, and protective. That's when he realised it wasn’t just the friendship he felt for her and decided he should do something about it. So one night, he sent Wayne back to the house for some sodas, which Wayne argued with him over, didn’t want to do at all, nearly ruined the moment, and as soon as he was out of sight. Al made his move. Shuffled closer on a hay bale and kissed her on the cheek, and as he liked to say, the rest is history.

Then he’d turn to Eddie and say, “One day, Eddie, you’re gonna meet a girl, and Cupid is gonna line you up in his sights and pow, it’ll be over for you.” Eddie would be so scared, his dad would chuckle and pull him into his lap, “I’m sorry, son, it’s not that scary, but you’ve got the genes of your mom and me. You’re a hopeless romantic on both sides, but that just means you’ll find your one easily,” he’d tap him on the chest, “Your heart is so full of love it’s gonna shine so bright for them, they’ll see it from miles away.”

Eddie didn’t realise at the time how dysfunctional his family was. When they weren’t arguing, they had the most fun together, but some of the things he thought were games weren’t that at all. They would play the weeks-long hide-and-seek game with his dad, but Eddie mustn’t tell anyone else about it. Otherwise, the game would be over. The scavenger hunts that either they would lay out for his Dad or he and his mom would follow, the prizes always being wads of cash. Or the big box of dress up he and his mom sometimes had to rifle through and take outfits to his dad so he could play too. That was the last game he remembered them playing together.

His dad had told Eddie and his mom that he’d had a vision about work, how something might go wrong. So they were to meet him at a gas station to play pretend. Though Eddie was excited, he couldn’t figure out why his mom was so upset.

His mom had made new outfits, especially for the occasion: a priest, a nun and a choirboy. They parked around the back of the building, already in their costumes, and waited for hours. Until there was a screech of tires, the sounds of yelling and running. His mom had grabbed the brown paper bag and Eddie and ran from the car to the outdoor toilet, and they hid behind the wall. In seconds, his dad appeared with a massive smile on his face, “Look at you, my angels.” he laughed, grabbed the bag, and kissed his mom before disappearing into the toilet.

More cars were pulling up, but there was more yelling and slamming. He even heard someone shouting bad things about his dad until his mom covered his ears with her hands and pulled silly faces at him until he smiled.

Then came the sirens and gunshots. Eddie remembers being so scared until his dad reappeared, “Hey buddy, it’s ok. We’re gonna pretend we’re going to church now. So just put your hands together like when you say your prayers, close your eyes, and we’ll be on our way before you know it.” He beamed a huge toothy grin at him. Eddie could see dark grease in his hair. It almost made it look jet-black. Eddie did as he was told, the other noises continued, but he kept walking until someone lifted him into his seat.

That was the last time he saw his dad. Heard from him a few times and got a couple of things through the post, birthday and Christmas gifts, usually a few months late, but as Wayne would remind him, it’s the thought that counted.

There is something strange in the space between them in the car as they pull up outside the address she’d given them. All the buildings crowded around one another, and looming over them felt like a stark contrast to the feeling within the vehicle.

Wayne kills the engine, “Ed, if you ain’t sure bout this, it’s no trouble at all to drive ya home. I’m going back anyway.” He speaks the words up at the large building.

Eddie does actually think about it, the fear of the unknown creeping up his spine. Then he looks at Wayne. He looks tired, “Yeah,” he replies, trying to hide the crack in his voice, “I’m sure. A fresh start somewhere new, I can be someone else.” He looks up into the night sky as if asking the stars to make it so.

He feels his uncle’s hand on his shoulder, “Eddie,” Wayne’s voice is quiet and full of a soft sadness, “You ain’t gotta be no one else. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with ya. You were just a kid whose life was flipped around. You did the best ya could, son.” Wayne's soulful eyes shine in the darkness.

“I coulda been less trouble,” Eddie says with a sweet half-smile to try and lessen the weight of this conversation, “I coulda been good, made things easier for myself. Coulda not had the sheriff and neighbours knocking at your door.”

“Our door,” Wayne adds and shakes his head, with a huff of acceptance, “Kid, I just want ya to know, I’d take a hundred knocks on our door at any hour, as long as you were there with them. Safe. At home,” Wayne adds, he turns away from Eddie and looks out the window, “The only good thing I ever heard about this city, Ed, was that your mama done well for herself. Everything else was bad news.”

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie says cautiously, but the word uncle makes Wayne’s head snap towards him. He’d been calling him Wayne mostly, but when he was little, sick or upset, he used uncle as a small plea for his comfort and support. “I came here to start over. I’m not interested in getting into trouble, joining greaser gangs, or getting into drink or drugs. I just want a chance to see more. Experience more without a brand on my forehead telling everyone I'm different. In Hawkins, I stick out, here there are so many differences no one is gonna notice lil’ ol’ me,” he smiles fondly at his uncle, “I'm gonna write a book and illustrate it, and when I make my fortune. I'm gonna come get you outta Hawkins, and me, you, mama, and pa are gonna live somewhere so grand.” His dreams widen his smile at Wayne, who offers a slight shrug of a smile back.

“Well, I ain’t never been one to stand in the way of anyone's dreams, so I reckon we better get up there before your mama falls fast asleep,” Wayne gets out of the car and gets Eddie’s cases.

Eddie shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out into Chicago. 

He inhales deeply again, letting the city saturate his lungs, with all its good and bad. The buildings around here were so vast and gigantic that it made him feel small, but for once, that felt good. He grins up at the lights still flooding the night, some from apartments and restaurants, some from cars driving by, and the faint sound of jazz on the wind whips around the place. 

He walks around and takes the cases from Wayne, “I got this old timer,” which puts a genuine smile on Wayne’s face as they make their way to the large brick building.

He could clearly see three floors from the sidewalk, though, on approach, it looked like there might be an attic right at the top and a basement down below. On one side of the building was a set of hard stone steps that bypassed the apartment at street level and went up to the main middle floor he could see.

Eddie halts at the two big main doors like this threshold will tear him asunder, let him leave the old bad boy Eddie behind, and only leave behind the good. He sets down one case, but his hand shakes as he reaches for the handle. Soon, he feels Wayne’s hand on his shoulder again. He turns to look at him, “You got nothing to lose. Home isn’t going anywhere. You can always come back,” Wayne smiles warmly at him, and Eddie takes hold of the handle and opens the door. As he steps into the cold, tiled hallway, he feels the warmth of Wayne’s hand leave him. As he turns, he finds his uncle neatening himself up, Straightening his tie, smoothing down his jacket, and rearranging the flowers in his hand, which were starting to look a little sorry for themselves.

Eddie looks at the numbers on the doors, and it seems they have another floor to get to his mom’s place. Eddie notices on the group of mailboxes as they pass that she hasn’t opted to change her surname, and something about that makes him feel good. Despite their distance and his dad's behaviour, it wasn’t so bad she needed to cut them off entirely.

As they reach the door of her apartment, Eddie’s anxiety takes full hold, he feels his breathing shudder, and the muscles in his back burn with a new tension. He thumbs at the ring on his finger that was a going-away gift from Wayne. He’d found it in a hide on a hunt the day after Eddie told him he wanted to leave and said he thought it was a sign. It was a simple silver signet ring that Eddie had to tape up to fit his slender fingers. He kept it on his index finger so his thumb could easily reach it. The repetitive movement, who gave it to him and the gift sentiment all helped bring him back down to earth a little. He’d been using it the whole way here.

“You know what could be fun? If she sees me first, then I step aside to reveal you? Lord knows I won’t get a word in once she’s got holda ya,” Wayne beams at him, and Eddie nods, in the full knowledge Wayne was gonna take this first step for him.

When Wayne had offered to take care of Eddie, it had been because he’d been left at his grandparents for a spell whilst his mom found her footing in the city. Eddie’s grandparents were the first people he met who branded him bad simply because he was energetic and was born of two delinquents, as they called them. Wayne had told his mom, who moved Eddie to her Dad’s, and everything was fine until he started getting sick. So Wayne worked on vehicles with his Mom’s father, cared for him and Eddie and never complained. Eddie couldn’t be that good, not as good as Christian as Wayne, but he tried. He was kind to people and animals, said his prayers, and helped around the house, but school and that kind of life were too restrictive for his imagination. Wayne plied him with fantasy books and art supplies, and they worked for a while until the differences started showing.

He was supposed to like cowboys, not knights. He was supposed to play soldiers, not sorcerors. 

His Mom came back for his grandpa’s funeral but didn’t stay. She took money and trinkets and left the house, land, and everything else for him and Wayne. That’s how it had been for the last ten years. Just him and Wayne in his Mom’s old house.

The combination of grief and being in opposition with his peers had sparked a rebellion within Eddie. He was supposed to like pop music and country, not blues and rock’n’roll. He was supposed to wear his hair short, but he preferred it longer. He should have had a pick-up. He had a motorcycle. He was a one-man gang for a while, glaring at anyone who gave him a second look, spooking locals with sinister tales until he was othered because he wanted to be. Then, a few others flocked to him, and he had his own mini band of brothers. But they got out of control. It took a few sheriff visits and a near fire to reign Eddie back in and ultimately sparked this decision to move.

Wayne knocks gently on the door, the bouquet of flowers held in front of him more like a shield than a gift. The other hand behind his back reaches for Eddie’s arm. 

“Yeah?” A deep, booming voice rings out from behind the door.

“Uh, apologies, we’re looking for Ms, um, Mrs Munson. Must have the wrong place,” Eddie hears the slight tremble in Wayne’s voice and feels his hand grip his arm tighter.

The metallic sound of latches being hurriedly undone fills the hallway, the increase in speed matching Eddie’s heartbeat, until the door is wrenched open and Eddie sucks in a breath in anticipation, but with Wayne in front of him, Eddie doesn't see much at first.

“Wayne!” An excited voice calls out before she leaps into a bear hug squeeze, and Eddie laughs when he hears the faint crunch of the flowers.

“He came?” He hears his mom say in disbelief as Wayne is shoved to the side, and there she is. Older but more beautiful than he remembers.

She’s a small woman, a smirk in the place of a smile, but it radiates joy all the same. On top of her head, her jet black curls are piled on top of one another in an untamed bun, a scarf is neatly folded into a headband of sorts and tied around her head, at the top in a small bow, from under which a set of shorter curls spill out and frame her emerald eyes, rounded nose and delicate jawline.

Her hands reach forward and grab Eddie’s face, and she plants kisses on his cheeks, too many for him to count, leaving them both giggling as she moves her rough hands away and steps back again to get a good look at him, “Oh sweetheart, look at you! You look so grown up with your little suit on,” Her hand raises to her mouth, and Eddie thinks he can see the start of tears brimming, but she quickly averts her eyes to Wayne and waves them inside, “Come in. Come in. I’ll, um, show you to your room so you can drop your bags in,” As she shuts the door behind them, her arm braces around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him in for a side hug, “I can’t believe you’re finally here sweetie, oh my goodness you are gonna love it. Sorry everywhere is a little empty, I um, I only just moved into this apartment from upstairs. Here we are,” she says excitedly, then stops, gives him another squeeze, and gestures into a plain looking room.

The wooden floor is adorned with a mishmash of rugs, there is a single metal framed bed, a desk which he can see has been stocked with stationary, a full-length mirror attached to a tall wardrobe, and next to a tall chest of drawers, on top of which sits a record player.

“I didn't wanna do too much. This is your room, so you can decorate it as you like, and I can get rid of anything you don't want or like, don't worry about that. Just wanted you to have what I figured might be essentials.” She releases him and opens up the wardrobe, “I got you a set of towels, and um,” she moves over to the chest of drawers, “Some new socks and underwear. I hope I got the size right. I did try to remember the numbers your uncle gave me,” she smiles, and Eddie begins to see how nervous she is.

“Wow, it's so great. Thank you, Mama, I mean, Mom,” Eddie corrects himself, trying to sound a little more grown up. He puts his cases down by his bed and almost removes his hat before looking nervously at Wayne and then his mom.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” She asks, a little worried, looking between Eddie and Wayne.

“Who else is here?” Eddie asks quietly.

His mom looks at him quizzically, “No one, sweetie. It's just us.”

“But the voice at the door,” he says, pointing back to the hallway.

“Ohhhh,” his Mom says in realisation, cups her hands to her mouth and booms out, “You mean this voice?”

Eddie's shoulders relax, and he nods and laughs, shaking his head.

“Is that what you were worried about, honey?” She asks again, but Eddie shakes his head, unable to find the words.

“Emmie,” Wayne starts and looks at Eddie with a reassuring smile, “The boy doesn't much like the barbers.”

Her worry fades, and she smiles mischievously, gesturing at her hair, “Me neither.”

Eddie carefully removes his bakerboy-style hat that hid his hair and takes the clips out so that his dark waves of hair fall around his face. It’s not long like his mom’s, but it's long enough to reach the top of his shoulders.

His mom lets out a tiny squeal of delight, “Oh my goodness, you look like a little angel. Sorry, I mean, your hair looks very handsome on you, Eddie.”

“I like it this way, but I know it's not what others like. So I keep it tucked away.” Eddie advises.

“Well, no need to do that here, sweetheart,” she beams at him and takes down her hair. This is our home, and you can be yourself here, ok? You’re whole true self,” her eyes dart to Wayne nervously and back to Eddie, “I mean, your Chicago home, you know. Not like your home-home.” She laughs awkwardly, “You know what? I’ll rustle us up a quick supper and leave you boys to it.”

Eddie busies himself unpacking, and Wayne doesn’t speak until his mom’s footsteps fade away. He strolls around the room and looks out of the window, out onto the city.

“Nice view,” he says.

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Say what you really wanna say, Wayne.”

Wayne turns around and starts picking up the clothes Eddie is laying on the bed and transferring them to the wardrobe hangers or drawers for him, “Just promise me if you wanna come home, you’ll call, ok? Don’t matter the time. I’ll come get ya as soon as I can. It ain’t no failing just ‘cus a place is too much for ya. It’s a big change, Ed, and you ain’t like ya mama. She’s like a damn rubber ball the way she bounces back from every knockdown.”

“I promise,” Eddie smiles at Wayne’s protectiveness, “Maybe you can’t see it, but maybe in a bigger place, I won’t stick out so much? I’ll stand a better chance slipping under the radar here than I did in Hawkins.” 

Wayne hums in that grumbly fashion he does when he knows he has to agree with Eddie but doesn’t want to.

“Let me just try, and I promise, I won’t hesitate to call if things start to go wrong,” Eddie reassures him.

Wayne tilts his head into view to receive the last of his knitted jumpers, “Even if that’s tomorrow?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs, “Even if that’s tomorrow.” 

Once all the clothes are away, they sit together around the kitchen table and demolish the plate of sandwiches between them. Eye-opening stories for each of them, some about baby Eddie, some about his mom and Wayne’s adventures, some tales from Wayne about older Eddie’s misadventures, and even some about his Mom starting out in the city. They laugh and share fond smiles until his Mom lets out a yawn, “I’m so sorry, I’ve been up since five this morning,”

“Sorry, Darlin’, I didn't realise the time. I should get goin’,” Wayne says as his eyes nervously dart to Eddie before focusing back on cleaning away the dishes.

“Now, Wayne, you haven't gotta do that, it’s fine!” “I won’t hear non’ a that. You made the food. I can sort the dishes before I head off,” Wayne says, collecting the plates.

Eddie watches his Mom play nervously with the hem of her shirt, “You know, Wayne, it’s kinda late. You could stay if you want to? I’ve got a camp bed or the sofa. You can take my room,”

“Absolutely not! It's Eddie’s first day in the city tomorrow, and he don’t need a shadow. Needs to make his own way,” Wayne says, clearing his throat afterwards.

Eddie feels that familiar nervous swirling in his stomach as he realises he hadn't spent more than the occasional sleepover or overnight camping trip away from Wayne in the last ten years. 

This was really it.

Suddenly, he felt lost, like he was drifting away from his mooring into the unchartered waters. Nausea was a very real and present sensation. Eddie quickly gets out of his seat to help Wayne with the dishes. He stands shoulder to shoulder with him, sending him an occasional smile while humming one of Wayne’s favourite songs.

Before they know it, the dishes are done, and all that is left is goodbye.

“Don’t wave me off. Stay up here, get a cocoa in ya, and off to bed. That's an order for both of ya,” Wayne tries to joke, but Eddie can hear a slight tremble in his voice, “So um, if anything, call me, ok, doesn’t matter what it is, like I said-”

Eddie pulls him in tight for a tight squeeze as he bites back his tears against Wayne’s shoulder, “Gonna miss you,” Is all Eddie can manage.

“I’m gonna miss you like crazy, son.” He squeezes him back harder, “And speaks into his hair, “And if anything happens to you out here, you have my solemn vow, I’ll raze Hawkins to the ground, cus it’s that stupid fuckin’ town that took you away. I’ll give them hell until the end of my days.” 

“He’s gonna be ok, Wayne. I promise,” Eddie hears his mom attempt to reassure him.

His uncle squeezes him tightly one more time, pats him on the shoulders, and moves back to look at him, tears in both their eyes. Wayne swallows and wipes his eyes before turning to his mom, “Emmie, it was good to see ya. Uh. See ya later, Ed,” he says, shakes his hand, nods his goodbye to him, and leaves.

Eddie rushes to the window of his room. In the dark, he finally lets his tears fall as he watches his weeping uncle drive away.

“Gotcha, that cocoa, you’re uncle suggested, pretty plain, I’m afraid. Tomorrow, I’ll pick up some marshmallows.” he hears her set the mugs down, “May I?” She asks, and Eddie only weakly nods as he finds himself crying in his mother's arms for the first time in eleven years.

Eddie didn’t sleep well that night; he was not used to the noise, and his worries wouldn’t let him rest even if it were as quiet as back home.

He lays awake in bed, waiting to hear his Mom get up. He checks his watch, gives her five minutes, and then joins her.

“Morning Sweetheart, want some coffee?” He hears her call out as he walks to the bathroom.

“Yeah, that would be great, thank you,” he rolls his eyes a little at himself at how formal he’s being, but he’s just trying to be polite.

He makes his way to the kitchen and finds not just a coffee but a plate of scrambled eggs, too.

“You still like eggs, right?” She asks with an awkward smile.

Eddie nods happily, “Yeah. I do. Thank you.” He tucks his pajamaed self in by shuffling his chair forward with a squeak against the floor, and he instinctively winces, “Sorry.” He glances slightly up at her from the corner of his eye. She’s probably regretting this already.

She moves from the counter and sits beside him, “Hey, you didn't do anything wrong. You’re fine, honestly.” He raises his eyes to her piercing green ones, and she gives him that sweet smile of hers, “Listen, sweetheart, I get we don’t know one another too well. That’s on me. I love you, always have, and always will. Even though maybe I didn’t show it in all the ways a mother should,” she cautiously reaches her hand over his, and he pushes his hand into hers, “But I want to get to know you, as you are. Wayne filled me in on a lot, and I just want to repeat, this is our, um, Chicago home, right? And behind this door, you are one hundred per cent okay to be one hundred per cent yourself, even if you can’t do it out there. I know I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Eddie says, and he realises his voice sounds small, unlike the eighteen-year-old man he’s supposed to be.

“No way. Are you kidding me?” she laughs, “I’ve built myself from nothing here. I can do the jobs I wanna do. Manual work that doesn’t involve putting on a full face of makeup or putting up with sleazy guys. Sorry, too much. Uh. What I’m trying to say is if I acted my true, daydreaming, singing, ditzy self out there, even though I do every job I take on extremely well, no one would take me seriously. I wouldn’t be a person to call for people that live around here. I wouldn’t have been trusted to take on maintenance for this building and get this bigger apartment,” she squeezes his arm and softens her voice, “but when I step through that door. I drop all those masks. I’d go crazy if I didn’t,” she smiles at him, “and I don’t need a crazy man in my home. So just be yourself, sweetheart. Wayne has filled me in on some things you’re dealing with, but I won’t make you talk about them unless you want to. I know you want a fresh start. Just like I did when I got here, I want this home to be your springboard to your dreams, Eddie. Everyone deserves to try.”

Something about that sets Eddie more at ease, “Got it, M-mom,” he corrects, and she raises an eyebrow at him, “Mama.” He says with a happy smile, and she nods.

“Better?” She asks.

“Yeah,” he says as he moves his hand on top of hers and squeezes it, kissing her on the cheek, “Tons better,” he says, picking up his cutlery to eat. Against his better judgement, he eats exactly as he would at home, pretty much inhaling the food on the plate, as his Mom laughs and gets up to pour another coffee for herself.

“So I got a few jobs to do today. I know you said you didn’t want me chaperoning and wanted to discover the place for yourself, but I also promised Wayne I’d keep you safe, and obviously, I want that, too. So, I thought maybe you could do some shopping for me, stick to the area. I’ve even put the names of the stores down for you. When you’re done, if you want to roam around, don’t stray too far from Taylor Street, ok. That’s the kind of hub of this area, and it’s the community I know,”

“Yeah, I read about that. Is it just all Italians ‘round here then? Because of the name,” Eddie asks, finishing his last mouthful and picking up his coffee.

“No, not really. There are people from all over. Well, at one point in their family tree, but most of the people your age around here are born and bred in Chicago. It’s fascinating, really. You’re gonna have tons more things to inspire you here,” She smiles and pushes him over a piece of note paper with some money, “Feel free to grab yourself some lunch out of that too. Keep the change for yourself. Don’t wanna deprive my little wordsmith of anything,” She smiles at him in a way he’s seen before somewhere in his distant memories and something that reminds him of Wayne. She’s proud of me, he thinks to himself, and that surges him into action. 

He quickly cleans the dishes and gets ready for the day. His Mom kisses him goodbye, leaving him at his desk for a while, pondering out his window. Watching people come and go, he decides to wait an hour or so for it to quieten down. He spends time sketching out some people on the street and the buildings. His mom was right. This place had so much going on it was impossible not to be inspired, and an urge to get amongst it all sweeps over Eddie. He pins up his hair, hiding it under his hat, grabs his satchel, dumping in his art and writing supplies. Rushes into the kitchen to pick up his keys, money and jacket. 

He gives the door a shove to make sure he’s shut it properly, and confident in that, he tries to step away but finds himself yanked back because he’s closed his jacket in there.  Eddie rolls his eyes at his clumsiness and unlocks the door again, releasing his jacket and closing and rechecking it. He takes a breath, starts over, and makes his way down the stairs to the foyer, tips his hat and smiles at his new neighbours as he passes.

It’s not until he steps outside that anyone stops him. 

“Ey! You new around here, ain’t ya?” a deep voice calls out after him. Eddie’s heart is pounding. This is the first person he’s going to officially meet here as the new him. He puts a friendly smile on his face and turns to greet them.

It’s a guy who looks about his age with blond hair, most of which is slicked back in a pompadour style save for a solitary ringlet that fell down his forehead. A cigarette limply hangs from his lips as he mirrors Eddie's smile and uses his shoulder to push himself from the wall he is leaning against.

“Morning,” Eddie chirps back, “Yeah, uh, just got here last night.”

“Oh really?” He tilts his head and looks Eddie over, “Huh.” He steps forward and grabs Eddie’s satchel.

Eddie feels immediately flustered by the intrusion and how quickly this guy got into his space. He tries to laugh it off, “Hey, easy there,” he says, tugging his bag back and taking a few steps down the staircase from the man.

“Easy there,” he mimics and laughs, “You one of those squares from the university?”

Eddie tries to smile again, even though he can feel his old self just beneath the surface, ready to knock out this guy’s teeth. It must have been some sort of dumb prank, “No, I just wanted to try the city out.”

“Oh, you’re a hick?” The guy asks, narrowing his eyes. His grin grows to something sly as if he knows he’s pushing Eddie’s buttons. He jumps down to the step Eddie is on with a thud, takes a long draw on his cigarette, and blows the smoke in Eddie’s face. Eddie waves it away with his hand, making him throw back his head and laugh.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, repressing the urge to retaliate, turns his glare away and starts down the stairs again.

“Hey! I’m not done talking to you!” He shouts after Eddie.

“Oh, I think we’re done here, buddy,” Eddie waves back with a forced laugh.

”Was that your old man last night? Crying in his car like a little bitch?” He shouts louder after Eddie.

That does it. Eddie wipes his hand down his lower face to contain the bubbling rage within him. No one talks about Wayne like that. Not this fucker, not anyone. 

What he wouldn’t give to be able to launch himself back up these stairs and send that dick crashing down them with his fist. But he’s not gonna let this asshole ruin his new start.

He turns back and looks up at him. “Ah, there he is,” the guy says with a weird sort of relief and a satisfied grin.

“You know, friend, maybe you shouldn’t be peering in the car windows or old men at night. You’ll get yourself a reputation,” Eddie shouts back at him and watches the guy’s face drop as a passing group of kids giggle at him.

Eddie smirks up at him and sends him a wink before continuing his day, leaving him standing dumbly on the staircase. 

This place was incredible. Eddie gets most of what his mom has asked for on the list from the locations on the small map she drew him. The grocery shop was the place nearest home and looked like the heaviest order, so he’d save that for last.

He circles back and drops in the light bulbs and various cleaning stuffs, and as it’s nice out, instead of staying cooped up inside, he decides to sit on the stairs and sketch some of the scenes around him as he munches on the sandwich from the deli.

He spots a group of girls over by a bench. Two are sitting down. One a light brown Italian-style haircut, like Sophia Loren, her big blue eyes bore into the pages of the book she's reading. Beside her is another girl trying to get something out of her light, mousy brown hair. Though their purposes seem different, they seem to be conversing, and the third, a girl with red hair, has decided to pretend the kerb is a tightrope and keeps her balance walking along it.

Eddie smiles to himself and gets to drawing. He should be trying to think of a main character for his story and draw that, but the inspiration hasn’t hit him yet. This place has too much he wants to capture. Maybe he should see if his mom has a camera or something.

Lost in the piece's details, he overlooks the shadow looming over him, and he’s too late to grab his sketch pad as it is snatched away from his lap. 

“Hey!” Eddie shouts and tries to grab it back, but the problem quickly becomes evident. It's the guy from earlier, only he has two other guys with him this time.

“Geez, what even is this shit,” he sneers at Eddie's drawing and shows it to his friends, who laugh along with him.

Eddie is so over this bullshit already, “Ok, you don’t like it. Fine. Just give it back, ok? And I’ll get away from your stairs, or whatever it is that's making you so upset,” he sighs and extends his hand towards him.

The blonde glares right into his eyes. He licks his teeth and spits on the ground before looking back at Eddie. A sinister smile spreads over his face again as he holds the pad aloft and turns his attention to the girls, “Hey! Ladies! Did you know you were all being perved on by some creep?” he yells over to them.

Eddie springs into panic, waving his hands in front of him. “Oh my god, no. It's not like that at all. I swear,” he frantically pleads with them as they frown at him and walk away, leaving the guys cackling amongst themselves. Great. Day one, and he’s already a fucking creep. What the fuck was this guy’s problem, anyway.

The guy plucks the cigarette out of the freckled boy's mouth and stubs it out on Eddie’s sketch pad, “Oops, better put that out, hadn’t I?” he drops the pad to the steps, stomps on it, grinds his boot into the pages and kicks it over to Eddie.

Eddie’s blood is boiling with rage, but he also feels like he could erupt into tears simultaneously. This was absolutely fucking ridiculous. Why couldn’t he just have this chance? Maybe he’d been so bad all the gods and the universe decided he doesn't get a do-over, and he has to pay for all the trouble he caused.

He looks at the trio and wonders if this is how Hawkins saw him and his gang. A cloud of terror just drifting to cause trouble and leave. Though Eddie never bullied anyone, he did annoy most businesses in town with his antics.

He picks up the pad and dusts it off, putting it in his bag, and he’s about to walk away, but he just can’t help himself. He turns back, eyes this dickhead with absolute disgust, “What is your problem with me anyway? I just got here. I’m not looking for trouble or trying to muscle in on anything you’ve got going on,”

They laugh, and the freckled one smirks, “How the fuck could you muscle in on anythin’? Look atcha. Nothing but an itty bitty weakling,” he jeers.

The one with shorter, cropped blond hair and narrow, icy blue eyes mimics him, “What's your problem with me anyway?” 

The main guy has a satisfied smirk, “I’ll tell you what the problem is,” he says, grabbing Eddie by the shirt and pulling him in close, but Eddie doesn't cower and does not retaliate, just coldly stares right back at him. 

The guy looks Eddie’s face up and down. Like a closer inspection, now he's only inches away from it, “My problem is, I don’t like creeps on my block,” then he leans in to whisper in Eddie’s ear, “And also…I know what you are…Freak!”

Eddie’s stomach churns at the thought of what this guy could have already deciphered about him so quickly. Could he just be talking about the drawings, that he wasn't from here, or he wasn’t dressed right?

He jolts backwards out of his grip as the guy smugly tilts his chin in the air, the victor.

Not wanting to add to today's problems, Eddie simply gathers his things and decides to get the groceries.

The group blocks his path down the stairs, saying, “I’ve got things to do. So if you kindly let me pass, I can be on my way,”

“Don't be too long, now. We’ll be here waiting for when you get back,” the main stocky guy teases.

Eddie hurriedly bustles his way past them, briskly walking away, and doesn't look back. Not even once, as his pulse thunders in his ears. The city seems to swell and contract as the anxiety starts to weave its way into him, and he might have walked right on by the grocery store if not for the uneven sidewalk.

He manages to get his hands in front of him, preventing his face from meeting the pavement and scrambles to his feet.

“What? Not even a postcard?” A thick Chicago accent rings out. Eddie starts to feel the defensiveness rise in him. He’s going to give this joker a piece of his mind. It's only his first day here, and already, it's going to hell. It's a stupid joke, anyway, which makes no sense at all because he didn't trip. He fell. Couldn’t this moron even see that? He dusts off his new clothes and notices a small tear in the knee. And that might be the final straw. Eddie screws up his face in rage. Fists clenched at his sides, one finger extended, ready to point right at this guy.

“No! Not even-” Eddie begins angrily as he turns to the voice. But all language and oxygen leave him, and all he can do is take one gulp of an inhale like a human goldfish.

Standing in front of Eddie right now is something he can barely comprehend. A miracle has occurred, and it doesn't seem like the rest of the world has noticed because it's carrying on like this isn’t even happening. He can vaguely hear the cars and the shouts of others, but they are all starting to dwindle. It was like someone was turning the volume down on planet Earth, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat and breathing.

Then, almost like a vignette is placed over his vision, blurring and darkening the edges, he can only focus on one thing.

The man of Eddie’s dreams.

Physically, at least.

He is right there.

Like the great animators in the sky plucked him out of his mind and drew him into existence.

Had he not put his hand out in time? Was he, in reality, currently knocked out by the fall, and that's why he can see this guy now?

He’s about the same height as Eddie. His hair is neatly cropped, not shoved away and hidden under a hat like his own. It’s side-parted, with a perfect swoop of brown, neatly combed and styled hair. Save for a few strands that hang over his forehead, rebelling against the pomade. His light brown eyes are shaped with a slight slope downwards, giving them a natural, hooded, adorable sadness, just like Elvis himself. But these are larger, which made them infinitely easier to get lost in. But there isn’t an ounce of sadness in the rest of that face as a cocky open-mouthed smile spreads across it. Tucked in the corner of his lips is a toothpick that rolls, as his tongue is idly toying with from inside his mouth as he looks Eddie up and down. 

Then there are those rose-blushed lips of his. They looked so soft, in direct opposition with the perfectly chiselled jaw they rested above. And all of this with a backdrop of olive skin littered with beauty marks. As if this guy needed any more indicators of how beautiful he was. Jesus.

Eddie dares to give him a rapid look up and down, and it is also awful news because not only did they give him the face of an angel, but they had to provide him with a body that would launch a million classical sculptors across all time into action. His shoulders are broad and sit atop two very pleasantly muscular arms. The white cotton t-shirt embraces them, one tighter than the other as it's rolled a little higher to hold his pack of smokes. The fabric stretches over his chest to reveal the mounds and dips of an anatomical landscape that Eddie is sure he would happily sit and admire for longer than any national landmark this fair country had to offer. Then the killing blow by this everyday garment is struck by how it falls and clings to his stomach, revealing he’s even got a slightly soft tummy. Eddie is starting to feel light-headed. This cannot be real.

Then Eddie notices something else, he’s wearing an apron, and in his arms is a crate of apples. He fucking works here. Oh god. Oh, god, no! Eddie starts to feel like he's overheating, and he’s eyelids flutter unintentionally.

“You ok dere, buddy?” The man’s smile and amusement take an eighty per cent plummet as they look over Eddie with concern.

He’s overwhelmed by everything happening right now, the whole day of mistakes leading up to it, questioning if it was even the right choice to come to the city in the first place. If all of these things were glaring warning signs, pointing him to go back home to Hawkins, stop chasing stupid dreams, and get a job with his Uncle Wayne at the factory. And this…this man at his local store of all places spelt trouble for him. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t good at hiding his thoughts or feelings. 

That was it decided. He would turn around now, go pack, and go home. This was a stupid idea. Eddie feels a tightness across his shoulders start to spread, his palms heat up, and he realises he’s been staring into space for the last few seconds. 

He tries to run, but his legs suddenly feel like lead, and though he’s stopped, the world spins around a few more times. Instead of the street being in his eye line, the horizon starts to fall, and all he can see is the sky before he feels his back hit something, but it's not hard like the ground. Soon, the horizon returns, as does the street and the face of an angel, moving him to sit on the ground outside the store, next to a pyramid of oranges.

“I need ya to sit right here, ok buddy. I’m gonna get ya some water, alright?” the angel’s mouth moves, and Eddie watches it seriously to make sure he can hear every one of his precious words.

He pats him on the shoulders, steps toward the store door, and pauses before looking back and tilting his head, “What's ya name?”

He is still a little dizzy, but he knows the answer to that question, “Eddie.” he replies quickly. 

The man smiles hugely and repeats his name like he’s testing it out. He places his toothpick behind his ear, “I’m Stefano, yous can call me Steve. Most do,” he gives him a little two-finger wave and disappears inside the store.

Eddie nods a dopey smile of thanks and then tries to take in his surroundings but nearly snaps his neck, looking back just as the guy goes through the door. Holy heck. Turns out it wasn’t just the front of this guy that was stunning. Eddie blows out a breath and stares at the ground. Yeah, this was bad, very bad. He needed to get his things and go home. Maybe getting knocked out by three guys might be slightly less painful than what this situation could be.

Eddie wobbles to his feet and walks to his bag and drawing equipment strewn across the sidewalk.

“EY! I thought I told you to sit right ‘dere?” Steve orders with a loud authority, and there is a clatter of something wooden.

“I’m fine, really,” Eddie says quickly, avoiding looking at him.

“You ain’t fine, buddy. You near hit da deck twice!” Steve says, grabbing his elbow and pulling him back towards the store. Eddie’s eyes turn to him again, and he feels all resistance leave him entirely and is seated on an upturned wooden container. Eddie notices that Steve has made a makeshift table and two chairs entirely out of crates. 

He can’t resist looking back over at him as he bends over to pick up Eddie’s things from the ground, and an internal battle rages as Eddie has to force himself to look elsewhere. This guy had been kind, so far anyway, so it wasn’t right to gawk at him, and also, Eddie shouldn’t be ogling guys. That was a one-way ticket to getting your head kicked in town.

Eddie’s stomach drops as he sees Steve stand and observe the sketch pad as he walks back over to him, “Oh…er… it's not what you think. I swear,” Eddie quickly defends.

“What? That you ain’t an artist?” Steve looks up at him, confused.

“No, well, kinda. I men. Fuck. I mean, “ As Steve’s eyes meet his own with a smirk, he gets lost in his eyes again, “Shit, I don't know what I mean.” He says finally with what he is sure is the dopiest, enamoured smile on his face.

Steve sits on the crate opposite him and hands him back his things apart from the pad he’s still observing. Eddie follows his eyes as they trail over the paper and watches his beautiful long lashes bat as he blinks. He vows to draw them all night until he has a perfect version and then hide it in an old tome in the national library so they’ll never be forgotten by time.

“OK, first, your soda. Hope dats alright. I thought yous might need the sugar,” he turns and whacks the cap off the bottle against the store window ledge. The muscles in his arm visibly flex as he does so and offers it over to Eddie, who accepts it gratefully and quickly diverts his eyes to the bottle itself.

For a second, Eddie's fingers brush against Steve’s, making the skin tingle like there is static between them, and he finds himself avoiding his eyes again as he drinks.

Eddie has not been shy since he can remember. He’s an all-singing, all-dancing, one-man vaudeville extravaganza, and he was trying to be a quieter, more reflective version of himself, but he wasn’t trying to be shy. But this guy made him feel goofy. Like someone had injected him with pure intoxication. Eddie knows he should stop biting the inside of his lip and stop staring, but he feels like it’s out of his control. The universe had put this heavenly body in Levis before him, and what was he supposed to do? Reject the gift? Force his way out of its orbit? No, but he didn’t want to repay the guy's kindness with his weird staring, so he kept trying to focus on other things. Anything that might save him from the flawless man realising he was appreciating him in a more than friendly way.

Eddie figures he must be doing an okay job. The guy hasn’t exhibited any of the usual aggressive tells Eddie had learned in Hawkins. When you're eager for a kiss or to dodge a fist, you learn to be observant of that shit quickly.

Steve tilts his head into his eye line, and once he has his attention, he moves it back to upright and smiles and asks, “Now I got a coupla questions, alright witcha?” Eddie nods in agreement as his eyes obediently follow him, as does the same smile he can’t seem to wipe from his face.

“You don’t sound like yous from here. You lost?” He asks.

Eddie shakes his head, “Nah, not lost. Not at all,” he means that he feels found when Steve looks at him, “But I did only get here last night,” Eddie offers up freely, and part of his brain is too slow to protest the fact he shouldn’t be telling a stranger more than they ask for.

Steve’s smile widens, “Dat makes sense,” Eddie watches his fingers trail over the paper where the cigarette has burned the pages, and a fresh feeling of embarrassment floods him. He could have taken the three of them. This guy sure wasn’t going to be impressed when he found out he’d effectively run away.

“It does?” Eddie asks, suddenly eager to have Steve look at him again.

“Yeah. I ain’t seen you before. Woulda remembered,” Steve sends him a charming boyish smile as the toothpick in his mouth moves from one side of his mouth to the other, “So, uh-“ he starts but is quickly interrupted.

“STEFANO!! ‘Owa, long is it gonna take for yous to finish the apples, eh? We’ll have a whole orchard ina here beforea you’re done. Amonini!” A woman’s voice rings out loud and clear, bursting the dreamy bubble Eddie was sitting in.

He looks over for Steve’s reaction. His eyes are wide, and a faint blush hits his cheeks and jaw, “‘Scuse me, Eddie,” he pockets Eddie’s pad in his apron and returns to the crate of apples Eddie had seen him carrying. He sets it out on the sloped display and is about to sit back down when he’s stopped in his tracks again.

“Stefano!! Why you no answer me?” The woman’s voice calls out again, annoyed and getting closer. Eddie watches Steve close his eyes slowly and slams down the second crate.

“IM DOIN’ IT, MA!” He yells back at the top of his lungs, goes back inside and re-emerges with another few crates piled up on top of one another.

“Urgh dissa boy, I swear. STEFANO!” Eddie hears the woman very clearly now, even though she isn’t shouting, and he looks up to see an open window she must be upstairs.

“MA! I'M DOING IT ALREADY!” Steve yells back, his beautiful brow frowns petulantly as he roughly shoves the crates into the display in an adorable little tantrum.

“Why you take-a so long? Huh?”

“Ma! I just fucking stepped foot out here! Gimme a fuckin’ chance! I’m only one man! Jesus!” 

“STEFANO EMILIO HARRINGTON, Don-na tell me you takin’ Jesus’ name in vain,” her voice travels around the place until Eddie hears the sound of footsteps and the ring of the bell as the door is yanked open. A woman’s face emerges. Initially, she looks furious, “Listen to how my son talks to me. You heara dat? What kinda terrible mother have I been to deserve that? Oh, the worst!” It feels like she says it to Eddie, but her words could have been for anyone in earshot.

Eddie's eyes turn to Steve, who, though now quite red in the face, probably from carrying all those crates around, is having some kind of absolutely silent conversation with his mother. It was the complete opposite of the yelling match they were just having. They gesture their hands in pointed, stern ways at first. Fingers pinched together, their eyes and faces express some kind of disagreement that soon dissolves to calm, and his mother’s eyes turn to Eddie for a second before she turns back to Steve and drags her thumb down her cheek with a big smile at him. He shrugs and looks a little bashful. She nods and goes back inside.

He watches Steve take a deep breath, and he walks over to sit back down on his crate seat, “Sorry ‘bout dat. So, uh, are you an artist den?” He pulls the pad back out and places it between them.

The sudden intrusion of Steve’s mom seems to give Eddie some of the English language back, “ I, um, yeah, I like to draw, but I wanna write,” he says and takes a swig of his drink immediately after speaking, to prevent himself from waffling too much.

“Oh, like for da paper?”

“Uh, well, maybe,” Eddie cannot bring himself to tell this beautiful being he’s wrong, “But books mostly. Stories and things like that,” now he feels that shyness again. Sometimes, it feels dumb to talk about his dreams out loud. Steve probably thinks he’s an idiot without a real job, but there isn’t a crumb of negativity on Steve’s face, just a broad smile.

“O’ course, you write stories and draw. Course ya do,” he says with a happy shake of his head, “Well ya know, if, er, yeah, I can always put a word in for you at da paper. I knowaguy,” Steve offers kindly, and Eddie can feel himself falling in love with how he talks with every word he says, on top of how kind and beautiful he is.

“Gee, that’d be swell,” Eddie says, unable to hide his gigantic grin.

Steve taps his finger on the pad, “I think. I might know these girls,” though Steve says it with a smile, Eddie freezes. Worried this man’s initial kindness was going to sour quickly now. He probably thinks the same as the guy outside his building. He feels such an idiot for drawing it in the first place, but he doesn’t see anything wrong in it because, for starters, one was an actual child, and the other two were beautiful. He could see that, but the same way he’d feel about a sunset or a lovely tree, not beautiful like attraction, not like he felt about Steve, but he couldn’t just tell someone that, so he plays along.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie keeps it short and tries not to make this worse than it needs to be.

“Yeah, dis one with da book. ‘Dats Nancy, she used to be my girl,” Steve says, not taking his eyes from the pad. Eddie's space rocket of impossible dreams explodes before it even leaves the stratosphere and sends his stomach plummeting. What did he expect, though, really? Steve’s finger moves across the paper, and he taps the heads of the other two girls, “Deez two, my sisters.” Shit. Eddie feels the need to run. This guy is gonna flip out any minute and probably crush his head like a melon between two of these wooden crates. But both through fear and the fact that Steve raises his soulful brown eyes to meet his, he stays put.

He knows he should say something, but he’s struggling to find the right watertight words and has no chance of being misunderstood. But he can’t think straight when he can see almost every small pigment detail in Steve’s eyes and presses his lips together, afraid he might just say something about them instead.

A loud slam of a car door pushes a word out of Eddie, “B-beautiful,” he blurts out.

“Oh,” Steve replies and pushes the pad over to Eddie. The smile fades from his lips, and Eddie hates it, so he just lets his motormouth let rip.

“The scene. I mean. The scene was beautiful. Not the girls. I mean, yes, they are beautiful, but I don't mean in that way. They were together but so different, and when I sat down to draw, they were perfectly framed from where I was sitting. I was inspired by them, you know? Like a nice tree or something. Back home is so different from here. All I had to draw sometimes were nice trees. I don’t know why I’m telling you about nice trees. I’m just saying that I didn't mean any harm. I know better now. I won’t do it again. I swear. This city has plenty more things that are inspiring. I just thought they looked kinda like if a personality was a group of people. I thought that fit this place because it's a huge mixture of cultures, sounds, and sights.”

Steve’s eyes don’t leave Eddie’s, “Da girl holdin’ the book. Dat’s Nancy. We used to date a while back. She’s real smart. I reckon yous two would get along real well. I could introduce ya if you want?”

“Oh god, no!” Eddie says way too quickly, with a laugh, “I mean, no, thank you. I’m not looking for a girl. I mean, I’m not looking to date right now. But thank you.” he awkwardly recovers as quickly as he can. Well, at least hopes he has. He thinks maybe he’s slightly successful as Steve leans forward a little to rest his chin on his fist, and a smile reappears.

“You know, maybe you could do it from here next time you wanna draw or write? ‘Deres normally a table, but I had to take it inside to fix somethin’ on it,” Eddie glimpses through the window of the store and quite clearly can see two elderly gentlemen playing checkers on it, “It’d be nice to have a creative type use it, prob’ly attract more people like ‘dat. If you wan’ I mean,” he says kindly.

Eddie can’t believe his luck. Yeah, sure, today had started off a complete mess, but now he had a movie-star-looking guy, basically saying, spend time with me every day, doing what you love. If it wasn’t for how Steve flips the toothpick around in his mouth, Eddie would have been completely lost in his eyes and swooned clear off the crate in front of him.

“Gosh, that's really kind of you. When are you usually here? Every day?” Eddie asks, maybe a little too enthusiastically, which makes Steve laugh, and it might be sweeter than morning birdsong to Eddie’s ears.

“Well-” Steve starts but is interrupted as the bell above the door rings again.

His mom emerges with a tray of coffee and tiny cups. This time, Eddie jumps to his feet to introduce himself properly and not just sit and stare. He quickly neatens up his clothes and clumsily tries to angle his leg, so it hides the tear in his pants. He almost laughs at his eagerness to impress her. He supposes he is new and wants to make a good impression, but he knows it's more than that. He knows that his fantasy brain is running away with him again, trying to impress the object of his affection’s mother. Like this could ever be a thing.

The small woman has beautifully coiffed dark brown hair, and her eyes look just the same as Steve’s, except her’s are expertly lined with makeup. She beams at Eddie as she sets the tray on the crate, which wobbles, and Steve rushes inside the store momentarily. Leaving Eddie and his mom smiling awkwardly at one another for a moment. Eddie can hear some raised voices but can’t make out any of the words the raised voices are exchanging and figures they must be talking in Italian. The two elderly men from inside emerge, grumbling. One with the checkerboard under his arm storms out first, followed by a second, who flicks his hand under his chin at Steve, who laughs and yells after them, “Well, if yous two ordered more dan a biscotti to share every day, den maybe you’d keep the table!” he shakes his head, “Fuckin’ stunad,”

“Stefano!” his mom reprimands him as he exchanges the crates for actual furniture. He seats his mom first as if that doesn't make Eddie’s heart beat faster with how sweet he is. He looks at Eddie and then down at the tray, and for a second, Eddie can’t do anything except look back like he’s hypnotised or something, but his mom coughs daintily, and Eddie realises what he needs to do and lifts the tray, as Steve swaps in a small table, and goes rushes back into the store and virtually jumps down the steps on his return, puts a chair one side of his mom, and then walks around to where Eddie and set down the last chair.

“Ma, dis is Eddie,” Steve whacks him hard on the back, and Eddie has to pinch his lips together in a smile to stop the oof from being expelled from them, from the sheer force of it, “He’s gonna be a big shot writer, ain’t dat right, Ed?”

Eddie dared not look at Steve right now. He was so close he felt the breath that contained his abbreviated name against his cheek. He keeps his eyes on Steve’s mom and offers an upturned hand towards her. She looks at him strangely but obliges him, putting her hand in his, and he kisses the back of it.

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m sure gonna try to make it at least,” he smiles back as she raises an eyebrow at Steve with an impressed face, and Eddie feels like this is his first shoot and success of the day.

But he’s not ready for feeling Steve’s warm hand slide against the small of his back as he guides him down into his chair and tucks it in for him, “Dere you go, much better, right?” Steve says happily as he returns to his own seat, and Eddie’s eyes obediently follow him all the way there, but when Steve’s eyes catch his again, he quickly looks away.

“You look, uh, wassa the word, similar,” his mom says, pulling his attention from the mosaic pattern on the tiny cups and saucers.

“It’s familiar, Ma,” Steve corrects, gently pouring the coffee into the cups from an odd-looking contraption.

“Ah, yeah, familiar,” she moves a finger quickly in front of her face, “Your eyes.”

“Oh, maybe you know my Mama, I mean mom,” Eddie says, quickly correcting himself again, but Steve and his mom exchange a happy look with one another and then back at Eddie, so he figures maybe they at least found it amusing rather than stupid.

“What's her name?” Steve asks, passing a tiny cup and saucer to his mom first and then to Eddie.

“Esmerelda,” Eddie tries, but two blank faces look back at him, “Uh, Esmerelda Munson, she lives right over there,” Eddie points out the building as he turns behind him.

The clatter of a teaspoon makes him spin around quickly to two now stunned faces.

“You're dat Eddie? Mrs Munson’s boy?” Steve asks hurriedly. 

Though the fear swirls in his gut that maybe his reputation might have preceded him, he’s in too deep to lie, “Yeah, you know her?” he says, swallowing nervously.

Steve’s mom claps her hands together, holds them up to her mouth like she's in prayer, and looks up to the canopy above them with a big smile.

“We sure do,” Steve grins, “She helped us out a lot when Pa passed. She’s a real kind lady.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. That must be difficult,” Eddie adds somberly as he watches how Steve drinks from the small cup and saucer and copies him. He understands immediately why this stuff is sipped and is in such tiny cups. It's much richer than regular coffee, almost thicker, and sweet too. It's delicious. Eddie can’t help himself and takes another sip immediately and lets out an involuntary sound of appreciation before setting down his cup.

“Si, a real, uh, ball-busta,” Steve's mom says happily.

Eddie nearly chokes on thin air as Steve complains, “Ma! Jesus! You don’t say that!” but Eddie can’t help laughing.

“Yeah, I guess she is a bit,” he beams at Steve’s mom, who pats pinches his cheek.

“Biddicchiu,” she laughs with him as Steve passes her the sketch pad and juts his thumb towards Eddie. Her eyes scan over the paper.

“I said Ed was welcome to work from here if he wants,” Steve says, “Hope dats ok?”

His mom nods, then gestures to the cigarette burn on the paper and the scuff marks. She speaks to Steve in Italian. Eddie guesses that because he can’t understand much, but he recognises her anger when she points her hand sharply at Eddie’s building, frowns deeply, and taps her temple. Eddie stays quiet and watches Steve reassure her.

“Can I have dissa one?” she says, gesturing at Eddie’s drawing.

“Yeah, but I can draw you a better one than that, on nicer-” Eddie starts, but she has already torn out the paper and folded it away in her own apron pocket.

“Ma says you’re welcome here anytime,” Steve smiles at him. Eddie is pretty sure there is more to what his mom said than that, but he doesn't want to press it, “We live just above here, so, uh, it dont matter what da time is, you know? One-a us’ll be here.” 

“Thank you, that's real kind,” Eddie says politely.

Steve's mom grips Eddie’s shoulder, looking at him seriously, “Listen to me, don-a talk widda, those boys over there. They no good. You come here, we not mucha further. Then your mama, no worry,” Eddie nods, and her red lipstick smile adorns her face again, “Besides, we gotta good food, better coffee, and a much nicer view, uh?” Eddie follows her eyes to Steve, who is blushing. Maybe he’s a bit embarrassed because he’s also had a run-in with those guys.

“Yeah, much better,” Eddie agrees, and Steve’s mom pats his cheek.

“Smart boy,” she says happily and looks up at Eddie’s building again, “I think deeza buildings so close you could see Stefano’s window from yours,” Eddie has no idea why she’s blessing him with this information, but his brain rapidly works out that he could probably see it from his own bedroom.

“MA!” Steve says in alarm and nudges her, then hurriedly clears up the tray as she lets out a melodic laugh, clutching her sides. Her eyes trail after him as he goes inside.

She turns back to Eddie, “My boy, he's good. Make you-a good friend. Yes?” She asks and puts a finger to her cheek and twists it around. She looks encouragingly at him, “You like?” She repeats the gesture against her cheek.

“Yes,” Eddie says enthusiastically. Even though he doesn't just like it here. He loves it here. They’d been so friendly and obviously tried to not think about the other things he liked about here.

“Si,” She says, takes Eddie's hand, and makes him mirror her gesture.

She lets go and tries again, “You like?”

“Si,” Eddie repeats and actions the gesture himself this time. She claps her hands together happily.

As Steve rejoins them, she starts talking at him, rapidly gesturing with her hands between himself and Steve. He can pick out his name and cafe, which he thinks must be related to coffee.

“Alright, alright, geez ma,” Steve says, looking a little confused at her and then turns to Eddie, “Before she has some kinda fit aboudit, she wants me to ask if yous liked the espresso,” Steve looking at him with a bashful smile.

Eddie is nudged in the ribs by Mrs Harrington, who nods encouragingly at him again. He cautiously raises his finger to his cheek and turns it, “Si?” he says awkwardly and looks between them.

At first, Steve's mouth parts ever so slightly, like he's going to say something, then his eyes move to his mom, and he shakes his head but can’t seem to wipe the smirk from his face.

The bell over the door rings, and they all turn towards it, and the customer that just entered. Steve stands, but his mother shakes her head at him and gently pushes him back into his seat as she stands up. At the door, she turns back to Eddie, “If your mama worksa late, you come eat with us.” That didn't sound like a question to Eddie, but he nodded anyway. She tuts and tilts her head at him, a playful frown on her brow.

“Si,” Eddie tries again, and she looks delighted as she ruffles Steve’s hair and walks into the store.

“Sorry about dat,” Steve says, picking at the table, “She’s a a lot sometimes.”

“Oh, I didn't mind at all,” Eddie replies truthfully, and suddenly, he remembers why he was coming this way anyway, “Oh god, food. Yeah, I have to get food, that's…” Eddie rummages through his things and finds the notepaper.

“Want some help?” Steve asks, standing at the same time Eddie does.

“No, you’ve done so much already. I couldn’t keep taking up your time like this,” Eddie laughs awkwardly, but all he really wants to do is say yes.

Steve waves his hand, “It’s no trouble for a paying customer,” He says and walks towards the steps to the store with Eddie. As they reach the door, Steve pushes it open for him, “Allow me, Sir,” he chuckles and follows Eddie inside.

Steve guides him around the place, helps Eddie find everything on his list, and puts an extra small box on top as he rings up the groceries.

“What's that?” Eddie asks curiously.

“Cannoli, your Ma likes ‘em,” Steve answers as Eddie places the money in his hand, trying not to let his fingers linger against his palm longer than they should.

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” Eddie smiles, unsure exactly what it was, but he’d be sure to pass it on, all the same.

“Want me to walk you home? I’ll make sure Billy, Jason and Tommy don't give you any trouble,” Steve says, leaning over the counter towards him.

Something about that made Eddie’s heart race, but he didn't want to appear weak, “No, it's fine. I’m used to it, just it was my first day here, and it kinda got to me, is all.” And that doesn't feel like as much of a lie as it seemed. Having this oasis of safety with Steve and his family didn’t make the thought of Billy and his goons seem so awful.

“You still gonna come by tomorrow?” Steve genuinely asks, his eyes big and innocent, scanning over Eddie as he gathers the grocery bags.

“Yeah, course I will,” Eddie answers like Steve asked him the most ridiculous question in the history of all mankind, “I feel pretty inspired again already,” Eddie smiles fondly at Steve, who was rapidly becoming one of his favourite things in the universe.

“Yeah?” Steve says, plucking the toothpick from behind his ear and putting it back in his mouth, “I reckon dis place could maybe be a great beginning…for your story, I mean,” he says, walking around the counter and holding the door open for Eddie again, following him outside.

“Tomorrow then,” Eddie smiles at him, trying not to sigh because tomorrow already felt too far away. Steve nods back, and Eddie catches a glimpse of Steve’s mom in the window. He gives her a wave and starts walking back to the apartment.

As he reaches the corner, he looks back. He can see Mrs Harrington buzzing and fussing around Steve, who looks like he is laughing and pretending to fight her off. He smiles to himself, and with the staircase of the building clear of idiots, he thinks that maybe Steve is right. 

This could be a perfect place for the beginning of his new story.

[madaboutmunson]

MadAboutMunson's Chaptered and Series Steddie Fics

Sweet Home Chicago - Complete -Set in Little Italy Chicago in 1959

I Think I Could Have Been Someone - WIP - Rockstar!Steve x Photographer!Eddie (What if Steve made it into the music business and Eddie didn't)

Again - Steddie fic where Steve and Eddie are in their mid 30's and everyone has sort of drifted apart

Raspberry Riddle - Complete A little fic I wrote about Eddie meeting Scoops Ahoy Steve Cryptic Cupid - Complete Sequel to Raspberry Riddle with events of S3 and S4 in-between This is set in a government-operated hospital after the events of season 4 but everyone is alive Each part has a different POV, so far Robin, Steve, and Eddie.

A series of fics about the heaviest song ever written by Corroded Coffin Rock-Steddie - Complete Grain Damage - Complete Rust In Peace - Complete

The Drive-In - Complete A bailed on Steve Harrington meets a pursued Eddie Munson at a drive in movie.

[madaboutmunson]

Black Denim Trousers & Motorcycle Boots (Sweet Home Chicago Series - Part 2/4)

Summary for overview of the whole fic can be found here

For @eddiemonth 

Week 2 prompts used: Times Like These - Foo FIghters, Wanted Dead or Alive - Bon Jovi, Determined, Adventurous, Soulmates, Monsters, Come As You Are - Nirvana

Warnings: None that I could think of, but let me know if you feel any should be added, and I'll do that straight away :) 

Romance/Fluff Word Count : 9.6K

Ao3 Link

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Eddie wakes with a start. An uncomfortable stiffness in his back and a numbness in his arms make themselves known quickly as a coffee mug appears in his view.

“Morning, sweetheart. I wasn’t gonna come in, but you didn’t answer, and I got a little worried,” she sits on the corner of his desk and starts picking up some of the pieces of paper that he can now see are littered all around him, “But when I saw you fast asleep on your desk, I thought I better wake you up. I know you don’t like to be late.” She smiles at him a little knowingly. He knows she can tell. He just hasn’t been brave enough to say it outright yet, and to her credit, she hasn't pushed. But he knows how obvious it is that he loves spending his days at the grocery store. He knows when they are both finally home, and she asks how his day was, he would try in vain to be calm and quiet about it, “Yeah, was good. Got a lot done.” But she’d wait a while to see if any further information would come her way before asking, “Was Steve there today?” that would just start the lengthy gushing about every little thing Steve did that day. It felt fine when he was in the midst of it, but as soon as he paused, he’d feel embarrassed, sometimes guilty. It was customary to be enthusiastic about friends, right? Especially new ones. 

Eddie knew that wasn’t why, and he got the sneaking suspicion his mama knew that too. He just wasn’t ready to have that conversation. He hasn’t been prepared to have that conversation since Wayne caught him with the huge A Streetcar Named Desire movie poster that Eddie had broken into the local cinema to retrieve for his own after learning that most movie posters just got plunged into storage, overhearing one of the ushers in the malt shop. He’d enacted the escapade alone for fear his fellow gang members wouldn't buy the fact that he wanted it for Vivienne Leigh, as he’d never mentioned her before. In hindsight, they probably would have just believed him if he’d told them he’d done it because he could because that's what he did back then. He didn’t need a rhyme or reason to rebel; he just did it to feel something he had control over.

And if Eddie hadn’t had Little Richard blasting out of his record player, if Eddie had remembered to just lock his door, or even if Eddie had just been listening the night before when Wayne had said he was going to be back earlier than usual, because a bunch of jobs got cancelled, then maybe, just maybe Wayne wouldn't have walked in on him running his fingers over the man on the poster. Eddie had tried to bolt, but Wayne had grabbed hold of him and sat him down, asked him to explain, and Eddie had lied. He’d told him he just wanted to be like him, that it was no different to the cowboys he used to draw or cut out of the paper and stick to his wall.

Wayne, god love him, hadn’t got mad, just blinked a few times and apologised for grabbing his arm. Asked if he was okay, “You never need to run from me, son. Not for anythin’.” And because he had no reason not to, he took Wayne at his word, but that moment plagued him for longer and much more profoundly than he cared to admit. As if to play into his lie, he decided to embody a version of Brando. The Wild One. 

He’d worked hard alongside Wayne until he’d saved up enough for an old beat-up motorcycle that he slaved away to fix up. He practically begged Wayne for a new pair of 501s and scoured the thrift shops for old biker jackets, but ended up finding one when scouring a barn for parts with Wayne one day. It was a little big, but Eddie didn’t mind. Got himself a used pair of black boots, one of his Grandpa’s old belts and a hat, and he looked the part. And whatever Eddie did, his little minions followed.

But that wasn’t enough for Eddie. He didn’t just want to look like Johnny. He wanted to become him.

It was easy to act cool when people were scared of you and your gang, and it was easy to kiss girls and make them cry when you were never into them in the first place. That's the thing about rebelling in a small town. Quickly, you run out of things to fight against, and soon, much to Wayne’s displeasure, Eddie had the town almost bending to his will, sometimes through charm but primarily by fear. Guys wanted to be him, and girls wanted to be with him, and that was great when it was impressing your friends, but it didn’t mean anything to him when he lay in bed at the end of the day. Somewhere along the way, this lonesome cowboy on his steel horse lost his north star. He wasn’t the hero taking on a stuffy old town that kept its youth down. He had become the villain. And as always with these sorts of things, he quite quickly became the scapegoat for anything that went wrong in that place.

As he sits up, a piece of paper joins him on the journey to being upright, and he peels it away from where it is stuck to the side of his face.

He tries to remember what he had been working on last night as his mama sips her coffee, and her vibrant eyes move over each page as she picks them up. Then it hits him, and he frantically tries gathering up the papers around him.

“Eddie! What's gotten into you?” She laughs and holds the paper away from him, “These are really good. Why are you hiding them?” 

“Well, uh, well…because they aren't finished. Yeah, they aren't finished,”. He lies quickly, and his mama’s piercing green eyes narrow at him and stare directly into his own.

She hands him back the sketch in her hand, “I just like seeing what you’re working on. It doesn't need to be perfect. I’ll leave you to it.” Eddie’s heart races in his chest as he nervously turns over the piece of paper his mom had been looking at and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees it is a drawing of the hero for his book. A knight who had no name or story yet, but one thing was for sure. He was a hero, a real one. One that wouldn’t lose his way. Perfect in poise and noble in deed.

Eddie shuffles through the other pages. 

The knight changes from armour and brandishing a sword to being dressed in peasant clothes that hug his sculpted body and holding an apple.

A page or two later, and all the false premise is stripped away.

Soft eyes that, even when narrowed by the sunlight, still look kind. The long lashes splay out elegantly, which he’s taken a little artistic licence with because he still hasn’t gotten over them since the first day he met Steve. His fingers trace along the slight crease at the corner of one of the sketched eyes, and soon he’s moving from beauty mark to freckle and back and down until he meets that handsome jawline, moves through the stubble that frustratingly can’t be felt. Only urging his fingers to tentatively brush over the lips that only ever spill gentle words to him.

“Eddie!” His mom calls out, and he nearly falls out of his chair due to being alarmed out of his daydream. He quickly shuffles all the papers together and shoves them in his drawer. “You want some eggs, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Mama, that’d be great!” he calls back, breathlessly clutching his chest. 

Eddie shakes his head and drops his head into his hands. He felt awful. Steve and his mom hadn’t shown him anything but kindness since he got here, and here he was, having these thoughts about Steve. He imagines how horrified they would be if they found out. These thoughts were wrong. He knew that. He just couldn't seem to keep them under control.

Nothing he had read about this kind of attraction made it seem like an accepted ailment or condition. It was something you had to pray or force out of a person. If Eddie had been sick with anything else, he’d go to a doctor, but wasn’t it still illegal? He guessed it didn’t have to be unlawful for the public to take matters into their own hands. Not that he’d ever acted on any of it. Almost a few times, but nothing more than a lingering touch or something that felt like a kiss was on the horizon, but the sun never rose on those opportunities. Just an expanse of unknowns shrouded in shadow.

But as he sits there, he recalls how his dad spoke about Eddie being made out of pure love. So, no matter what layers he or the world draped him in at his core, that’s what he’d always be. A walking, talking personification of love. If that were true, how could anything he felt be so terrible? It would be fine if it was a girl, right? But the fact remained that the world said it was wrong, whether he understood why it thought that or not.

He knows that’s why his mama uses sweetheart above all other terms of affection for him. He remembers how she would say his smile could light up the darkest room and how his scowls only deprived the world of what it needed most in hard times. It was a dramatic statement, but he clung to it when he struggled with these things, like a scraggly worn scrap of a comfort blanket that reminds him that at his centre, he’s good.

He also knows that’s why Wayne didn't berate his bad behaviour when he confronted him about his slightly more-than-friendships with girls. Wayne explained that if something wasn’t for him, he should leave it alone. Eddie had made his point that he could get all the girls he wanted, but he didn’t have to continue to leave broken hearts in his wake any more. To begin with, he thought it was just that, a confrontation to address another tearful girl that Eddie had led on because she found him flirting with another girl the next day. But throughout the discussion, Wayne gently prised open his rebel armour at its weakest points with careful questions and sympathy.

The way he’d started that conversation stone-faced and defensive and ended up a tearful confessing mess against Wayne’s shoulder never failed to make him get choked up when he recalled it. There was no punishment, no lecture, just flannel-wrapped arms holding him tight. Rough, hard-working hands brushing over his hair and kisses on his head between words of reassurance and relief.

Eddie did tone his behaviour down from then on like the confession had freed him of a constant irritation that had been lingering just out of reach for years, but it was far too late. Hawkins had made up its mind, and that might have been his first forced step towards Chicago.

He could start over here. He could leave that old life behind and learn how to live all over again, even if that included learning to hide some aspects of himself. Maybe his dad was just wrong. Perhaps regardless of his parents, he was resigned to a life alone. Would that really be so bad? If he couldn’t love a girl non-platonically, he could aim for something else, couldn’t he? If he could be successful professionally and keep himself safe? That could be more than enough. He could morph attraction into just an appreciation of beauty. He could do this. He could change his stars.

With a deep breath and a renewed sense of purpose, he pushes down the self-loathing and love worries and starts his day over.

The rest of his morning is terrific. Being up early with his mama means he’s too early for the goons on the stairs. He strolls down by the river until the school kids dwindle and then heads to the grocery store. And just like every morning, rain or shine, the canopy is extended, and his personal table is already set up against the window. Steve’s handsome face greets him within moments, offering him espresso and a heart-stopping smile. He accepts both gladly, and though today seems busier than usual, Steve still takes his smoke breaks with Eddie. Flicks through his notes and drawings, but one element was missing today, and Steve’s adorably creased brow isn’t happy about it.

Steve grips either side of the table and wiggles it. Looks to face the same way as Eddie and looks around confused. Then, finally, he looks above him and back to Eddie, “Everthin’ alright for ya today, Ed?”

“Yeah, just perfect,” Eddie beams back at him. Because it is. Everything is perfect when Steve’s around because he eclipses everything else.

The curious look doesn't leave his face as he leans back in his chair to light a cigarette and leans one elbow on the backrest of it, “You feelin’ ok?”

“Oh yeah, the best,” he replies enthusiastically because that was true, too. When he had Steve’s attention, he felt he must be the most special person on the planet.

“ ‘Den, what's goin’ on here?” he waves the hand holding his smoke over the sketches strewn across the table. Eddie looks down at the table as if to check for anything incriminating, but there isn’t anything.

“You don’t like them?” Eddie asks tentatively.

“Oh, uh, I like ‘em plenty, just, uh,” Steve’s honey-brown eyes scan the table again before flicking back up to Eddie’s, “Well, where is he?”

“Well, he’s right…” Eddie shuffles through the sketches. He finds various fruits and their arrangements, coffee cups, an empty version of the chair opposite him, a few trees and a sunset, “Oh,” he says, looking back up at Steve. The realisation the character he’d been working on, the knight, was nowhere to be seen in word or picture.

“You homesick?” Steve asks compassionately

“No, I don’t think so,” Eddie answers genuinely because whilst he does miss Wayne, he does not miss Hawkins.

Steve hums, looks over the pictures again, “Say, uh, did you try one-a da cannoli we send home for your ma, sometimes?” The change in subject is odd to Eddie, but he’s glad of it.

“God, yeah!” Eddie replies quickly, eyes widening at Steve, “I was trying to describe them to my uncle, but I had no idea how because I’d never eaten anything like ‘em. The best I could come up with was it's like a pie tube, with the creamiest sweet filling and candied peel that cuts right through and balances it just perfectly, but, uh, needless to say, he just laughed at me. But when he visits, I’ll make sure to buy him one. Where do you get those from anyway?” Eddie finally takes a breath after enthusing over the delicious pastries that Steve or his mom occasionally put in with his shopping.

Steve smiles hugely, “I know-a-guy,” he takes another drag on his cigarette, “Anyways, you don’t like dis knight no more? Is dat it?”

Eddie shrugs, “I dunno. I guess, um, he’s just not inspiring me today?” he awkwardly smiles at Steve, whose mouth downturns a little, but he nods.

“Oh, did he do sumthin’ wrong…in da story?” Steve asks as he stubs out his smoke, not looking at Eddie.

“No, it's not like that. It’s kinda like, somedays I get up, and all I can think about is the story and everything the knight is, was and could be, and on those days, I can write about him or draw him for hours. But then, some days, he’s just not there. Or he is, but I just don't wanna write or draw about it, you know? It’s just inspiration. Sometimes, you arrange the oranges in a pyramid and decorate the table, right? With grapes and whatever those things are, and some days, you just put the crates out. A spark of creativity,” Eddie overexplains and feels a little embarrassed, revealing something that must sound utterly ridiculous to Steve, who works hard every day regardless of how he feels. He does it because he has to, for his family.

Steve tilts his head, looking Eddie over, probably trying to figure out why he said such strange things or got so animated about them. A small smile reappears, “Figs,” he says finally.

“Figs?” Eddie asks, one of his hands gripping tightly around the side of the chair seat, fearing he might float away straight up to cloud nine if Steve keeps looking at him like that.

“Yeah, next to the grapes,” he points over to one of the odd-shaped things and looks back at Eddie, “Figs,” He repeats, and picks one up and cleans it on his shirt.

The fruit looks a lot smaller in his hands. As he holds it between them, tearing it open easily, he offers half to Eddie, who shakes his head, “Oh, no thank you. I’m good.” It's a strange thing, purple on the outside and on the inside a halo of yellow around a red fleshy centre.

“I ain’t steered ya wrong so far,” Steve says simply, putting one-half of it midway between them on the table. He smiles at Eddie and turns his attention onto the street, raising the fruit to his mouth.

Until this moment, Eddie didn't really know why the story of Adam and Eve didn't sit right with him. Sure, he hadn’t read it in-depth, just vaguely remembered it. Sure, it was a story to explain creation because, at the time, they probably had no other reasons as to why humans were on this planet. But the thing that always bugged him was that they apparently used fig leaves to cover themselves up when their innocence was lost after Eve took a bite of an apple, so surely the nearest tree would have been an apple tree. But as Steve's full lips push against the skin of the fruit he’s flipped inside out, a droplet of juice spills out of the corner of his mouth and races towards his elegant jawline. Eddie realises that maybe something had been lost in translation, and perhaps Eve had bitten into a fig, just like this, because nothing so far in his existence has been this tempting or felt so forbidden, as he watches Steve bite into the fruit to consume it. Desperate for the knowledge of how it might feel to have his lips right where the fig is. He realises he’s staring at his mouth, but as he flicks his eyes up, Steve doesn't appear to have noticed, thankfully. To prevent himself from openly drooling, he picks up the fruit and copies how Steve ate his half, even looking out onto the street to avert his eyes. Though he’s absolutely sure he doesn’t look anywhere near as good as Steve looked doing it. Due to concentrating heavily on trying to compose himself, the sweetness and flavour take him completely by surprise. He makes an involuntary, pleased noise and eats the whole thing.

“Told ya,” A voice softly says in his ear, and he jolts with surprise, only to find Steve leaning across the table into his space. They laugh at Eddie’s over-the-top reaction, “You know it’s said figs are food of da gods. Maybe you’ll feel like writin’ again soon enough, huh?”

Eddie can only smile as his stomach somersaulting like a circus act prevents him from forming a coherent response. Because all his brain wants him to do right now has very little to do with writing or drawing.

His pulse is almost rumbling in his ears, at least that's what he thinks it is initially, until the noise becomes clearer, and the butterflies in Eddie’s stomach vanish and are replaced with a plummeting feeling when he recognises the noise. 

Motorcycles.

Eddie thinks his past has caught up with him. He knew someone would come looking for him eventually, for a fire he didn't even start. He frantically goes to gather his things, but Steve’s hand is on his shoulder, and Eddie can’t look. Was this what this was? Had he befriended Eddie to keep him in place for that motorcycle gang? 

“Hey, easy, buddy. Dese are just my friends. They ain’t bad,” Steve smiles reassuringly, “Dere hygiene and sense-a humor maybe.” Steve’s hand on his shoulder radiates a soothing warmth, almost like a sedative spreading through him from the point of contact, “No more espresso for yous today, huh?” Steve laughs light and melodic, and Eddie finally smiles back.

“Sorry,” Eddie says awkwardly.

“ ‘S ok, buddy. I get it. Remember, you’re safe here, yeah? I-we won’t let anything happen to ya. Promise,” Steve says with such an earnest expression that Eddie can only believe him. He turns his attention to the bikes pulling up, and stands to greet them.

The four guys are dressed in Eddie’s old day-to-day uniform. Leather motorcycle jackets, black boots, jeans. An odd bunch, he thinks. The first guy, who looks like the leader, has the most confident strut, pulls up first and is walking ahead of the rest, his hair in a jelly roll style. To Eddie's surprise, just to his left is an African-American guy with a dimple on his upper cheek as he laughs at one of the others stumbling with their kickstand. His hair was in a pompadour style, cut in that style rather than straightened and styled. Next is a tallish, thin guy with small features. His sandy blond hair is cut in a similar style to Steve’s but a little longer and unruly, and last of all, a Latino-looking guy with the longest braided hair Eddie thinks he’s ever seen on anyone.

The one at the front runs up to tackle Steve, and then all except the sandy blond pile in also, and all four of them end up falling into one of the displays, as Steve laughs along with them, grabbing the little one in a headlock.

“Shit, Steve, not my hair!” he yells.

“Aw, come on, Gaz, doesn’t matter how good your hair looks, you’re always gonna have dat little chipmunk face of yours,” Steve laughs but lets him go.

Eddie feels someone looking at him and turns to find the slender guy staring at him. As Eddie averts his eyes, he notices his name painted in beautiful cursive on his jacket. Jonny. There was a time when Eddie would have stared right back at him, but not this new Eddie. Not his second-chance version of himself. 

Steve eventually prises himself from the others and walks over to shake Jonny’s hand, “Good to see ya, Jon,” he says, but the only reply he gets is a silent nod before walking around the table to stand next to Eddie.

“Alright, ya bunch of assholes, calm down. Dis is Ed. He’s new round here,” Steve looks and smiles at him, and Eddie returns it and gives a weak wave to the others.

“Hi,” is all he can think to say before turning back to the street, “Nice wheels,” he says.

“Thanks, man,” says the one with the long braid, who picks up an apple from the stall and bites into it.

The little one steps forward and thrusts a hand out to Eddie, “I’m Gareth, that’s Jeff, Argyle and Jon, but most people know us by Hellfire. The Hellfire Motorcycle Club.” he says proudly, turning to show the painting on the back of his jacket of some kind of devil with a long forked tongue, surrounded by flames. Eddie nods at each of them in turn.

“So where you from then?” Jonny asks.

“Indiana,” Eddie answers with a smile.

“And you came to the windy city because….” Argyle asks, taking another bite out of his apple.

“I, uh,” Eddie glances at Steve, who gives him the slightest nod and smile, “I wanted to write,”

“What, you can’t write back home?” Jeff laughs, “What happened? They take away all the stationery in Indiana?”

Eddie laughs, “Uh, no. I mean, I want to be a writer, and I thought coming here would be more inspiring, you know?”

“How much does that pay then? Writin’?” Gareth says, curious as he picks up one of Eddie's drawings off the table, pulls an impressed face at it, and shrugs, passing it to Jeff.

“Oh, I dunno, honestly,”

“Doesn’t sound very secure,” Jeff frowns and passes the drawing to Argyle.

“What if you don't make it as a writer? You got a backup?” Argyle asks.

“I honestly haven't thought-”

“Got your own place?” Jeff asks quickly

“No, I live with my-”

“Hmmm, yeah, haven't thought about it, got it,” Johnny says, “You from a big family? You Italian?”

“No, and No, but-”

There is a collective groan from the motorcycle club.

“So whatcha sayin’ is you ain't gotta job or income or your own place, and you ain't even Italian?” Gareth laughs.

“Is that- Is that bad?” Eddie looks instinctively at Steve for reassurance due to the barrage of questions he is facing.

“But what are your views on fruit on pizza?” Argyle asks

“I don’t really eat a lot of-”

“You got a ride?” Eddie snaps his head to Gareth again and shakes his head.

“A girl?” Jeff asks as Eddie's head whips around to him, and he indicates negatively again.

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, you shitbirds. That’s enough,” Steve shouts, and they fall to silence as he turns to Eddie, “ ‘Scuse us for a sec, Ed” he says apologetically, and the gang follow him inside.

Eddie decides to give them a wide berth and looks at something comforting. The motorcycles themselves. God, that was an absolute embarrassment. He could have been much cooler about it, especially with Steve there. Oh well. Eddie looks over briefly and can see them in the window in an intense discussion.

Gareth has a virtually brand new Honda Dream C71, two of them have different year versions of the BSA Bantam, and last of all, someone has his old bike, a 1950 Thunderbird. This one wasn’t customised to look like the one out of the movie like he’d done with his own, but there had been, what looked like, some abandoned attempts. He reaches out, runs his fingers along the gleaming paintwork, and quickly retracts them, remembering how touchy he’d been if anyone even looked at his bike for too long. Whoever this one belonged to took excellent care of it.

The bell ringing over the door gets him to his feet before anyone can startle him. Steve waves him over, “Ed, come ‘ere, da guys have somethin’ to say,” Eddie swallows nervously but tries to put on a slight air of confidence and smiles at them all.

Gareth tilts his head at Eddie, “So, we’s just wanted t’ say, we didn’t mean to make yous feel uncomfortable, OK? You’re just new, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. No issues here,” he puts up his hands and takes a breath, “I was just looking at your bikes. They’re real neat.” He offers the verbal olive branch of changing the subject.

“You like motorcycles?” Steve asks a little oddly. He sort of sounds a little disappointed.

Eddie lies quickly, “I mean, my friend back home used to let me ride on the back of his sometimes. So I think they’re neat, is all.” Eddie cringes at his overuse of the word neat, like some little kid.

“He did?” Steve almost sounds slightly annoyed, but Eddie can’t determine why. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say.

“And this friend of yours,” Gareth says, tearing his eyes from Steve to land on Eddie, “You still talk to him?” 

Shit, what if they think he was involved in some rival gang or something, “No, we lost touch a little while before I decided I wanted to move here.” Eddie, desperate to ease the tension he seems to have created, smiles around the group, “Just different life paths, you know. It goes that way sometimes.” Steve returns his smile, and Eddie's heart almost packs its bags to move into Steve’s hands immediately.

“Also, sorry ‘bout that comment earlier regarding’ your job. Guys like us are happy with our feet on the ground, you know, and I forget sometimes the world needs people to shoot for the moon,” Gareth offers him a shrug of a smile, and he does seem genuine in his apology, but the way Steve nods at his friend, makes him think that maybe Steve had jumped to his defence in the store, and Eddie tries desperately not to grin wildly at that thought.

Steve's eyes cast up for a moment in thought and then move towards the ground before he checks his watch, “I’m sure I could borrow some wheels if you ever miss it,” Steve shrugs, lighting a cigarette, and all four heads of his friends snap to his words, “Ain’t dat right Jonny boy?”

“Yeah, course, Steve, she’s yours anyway,” Johnny quietly agrees.

“No, no. None a dat. It’d just be for today or whateva,” Steve smiles at Johnny and then Eddie, “Unless you got plans?”

“No, not at all. That’d be great. I’ll leave a note for Ma-my mom and be right back.” Eddie says excitedly and packs up his things.

“Hey Arg, can I ask you somethin’?” He hears Steve ask, and the five of them disappear into the store as he walks back to his apartment.

Thankfully, the coast looks clear, so he heads inside, leaves a cute note for his mama, and is about to leave again when he pauses and goes to the bathroom cabinet. Score! There was some cologne in here. As he picks it up, a piece of note paper falls out. He picks it up to put it back and notices it’s yellowing. His curiosity gets the better of him, so he opens it.

For my soulmate:

The most beautiful star in the world

Take me in your arms

Lead me in my dreams again

I'll sell my soul for it.

What is it worth? 

Only you know

Eddie quickly folds it back up, feeling a little embarrassed. It was probably something private of his mama’s.

He adds a few extra pins to his hat to keep it from flying clean off and grabs a warmer jacket.

As he leaves the building, a set of familiar voices make him sigh in exasperation.

“This ain’t Hellfire’s place, Jonny. So why don’t you just go back to riding Steve’s coattails, huh?” Billy snides.

“I don’t know how many times we gotta tell you three morons to leave people alone around here. And for your information, this building is the concern of Hellfire now. So what you wanna do is turn around and go and crawl back into the dumpster the three of you ghouls crawled out of,” Jon fires back, and inside, Eddie has to cover his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Oh yeah, and what if we don’t care about Hellfire’s new rules from its new asshole of a leader?” Tommy seethes.

“Well, how can I put this? If you don’t, the matter is gonna get escalated, and then it’s gonna be out of our hands. So I suggest you just run along now, so no one has to get hurt,” Jon says calmly.

“Oh, I see how it is. You're recruiting this new guy, are ya?” Jason asks spitefully, but Jon just laughs in response.

“Well, you should know, he’s a fucking creep. Was sitting here drawing pictures of Nance and the two Harrington girls,” Billy offers, and Eddie feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh, was he?” Jon says, sounding almost intrigued.

“Sure was, bold as anything, ogling them,” Billy continues, and Eddie can almost see the sly grin on his face. He should just step out there before this gets worse.

“Thing is William. I actually have conversations with my girlfriend and actually have friends. So when Nancy told me about your performance here, she said Rob and Max told her he’d ended up at the store. I called Steve. And guess what, guys,” he says with sarcastic surprise, “He was just drawing the surroundings and saw them first. I’ve seen it, it’s terrific actually. Steve’s Ma has it hung up already, and most importantly, Nancy and the girls never had a problem with him. They, as per usual, just wanted to get away from you,” Eddie hears the venom in Jon’s voice and the rustle of his leather jacket, and he knows that shift in stance, so he steps outside to interrupt.

“Oh, hey, Jonny,” he smiles at Jon, which seems to defuse the situation. He turns to the others with a smile, nods, and walks down the stairs, “Gentlemen.”

As he and Jonny reach the bottom of the stairs, Billy calls out, “Nice to see you still resting on Steve’s hand-me-downs, Jon. First a jacket, then a bike, and then his girl. What next?” Billy and his goons laugh together.

And something about the judgement entirely rubs Eddie the wrong way, and he turns on his heel to face the three of them to say something. But then there is a hand on his shoulder, and Jonny calmly smiles, “Ooooh William, time to get some new material, maybe? You’ve been tellin’ the same joke for years now, and no one with more than one brain cell of their own has ever laughed at it. Come on, Ed. Let’s go,” he says, and they walk back to the store.

Once they are far enough away, Eddie dares ask, “You ok?”

“Yeah, don’t sweat those guys. They bark a lot, but only one has got any bite,” Jon stops before they get to the store, “Just try your best to ignore them, ok? Steve’s Ma don’t like ‘em anyway, and if you end up in a tussle with them, so will Steve, and then well…things will get escalated,” Jon looks at him seriously, “Steve’s a good guy. We don’t want him getting into any trouble, capiche?”

Eddie looks puzzled at him.

“Understand?” Jon tries again, and Eddie nods, “Also, what he said was true. Steve did give me his jacket and old motorcycle, but Nancy, that’s different. They were together but not, you know?” Jon says, and Eddie nods like he understands, but he doesn’t at all, not that it matters. “Anyway, you been enjoying your days at Heartbreak Hotel?” Jonny chuckles, and Eddie screws up his face in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t noticed?” Jon starts but reads the puzzled look on Eddie’s face quickly enough, “The constant stream of pretty girls that keep coming to the store for Steve but just end up leaving with groceries they probably didn’t need?” he laughs.

Eddie shakes his head, “I noticed it was busier today, but I was drawing, so I didn’t register who or anything.”

“Huh,” Jon half-smiles at him and looks him over, “Didn’t look up from your drawings all day?”

“Oh sure, when Steve was on his break,” Eddie says, understanding what he means now.

“But the rest of the time, not one single girl caught your eye?” Jon questions and Eddie begins to see how weird this might seem.

He fakes a laugh, “I just mean, I didn’t really engage with anyone else other than a glance. Number one, I didn’t really come here to date. It's not like I have much luck in that department, anyway. Chances are, if I make the whole writer thing, I stand a better chance, right? If I got tied down now, I’d have to get a job that paid me actual money for bills and dates instead of living off savings. My writing wouldn’t get a look in. And number two, drawing and looking at people only leads to trouble, or at least that’s what I’ve learned the last few weeks,” he pauses, “I’d really like to get the chance to apologise and explain to Nancy, Rob and Max sometime. Just so they know I’m not a creep.”

Jon puts his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him into his side, “You know Ed, I get the feeling you’re gonna get that chance,” Eddie is a bit weirded out by the physicality, but he doesn’t mind it. Jon lights up something that smells familiar to Eddie, but it’s not a cigarette, “If it’s any consolation, what I said was true. The girls didn’t move because of you. Nancy is pretty observant, so if she had felt threatened by you looking at them, she would have moved them all on someplace else.” He adds as they walk to the outside of the store.

The bell above the door rings as they step in front of it, and Steve skips a step or two on his way out and looks between him and Jonny, “You sure made friends fast,” Steve says with a huff of a laugh.

“He’s just a likeable guy, Steve,” Johnny says, giving Eddie a pat on the back.

“He is, ain’t he?” Steve says kindly,  half-smiles and then quickly looks at the bike, “Ready, Ed?”

“Yeah, yeah. Absolutely,” Eddie claps his hands together and is glad for this moment of waiting for Steve to get situated on the bike first because Steve looks gorgeous. That is just the facts. He’s beautiful and kind, and that is more than enough. But he’s looking exceedingly handsome right now. He’s traded his regular footwear for some engineer-type boots, and his hair is combed back into a place a little more, but the jacket is really causing Eddie a problem. It was style-wise just an ordinary leather biker jacket. Except this one was a mid-brown colour that seemed to make the colour of his eyes even more entrancing somehow. Like they were no longer merely functional parts of a human being but impossible, magical orbs that might turn him completely to stone if he looked directly into them. The leather is well-worn but not damaged, just lots of lines of use. The stitching is elegant, and he’s flicked his collar up against the cold.  As he sits on the bike, he fusses with it.

“Guess I’m not as small as I used to be,” he huffs out a small self-deprecating laugh, and Eddie doesn't miss that divine blush that just hits his cheeks. There is no way Steve should feel any less than the most stunning thing on the planet. Not on his watch.

“I couldn’t even tell. Looks like a perfect fit to me. It’s real nice,” Eddie says as he swings his leg over the bike to sit behind Steve, and this already feels like a mistake. Being this close. If the visuals were not enough to send him off into orbit, the smell of leather and Steve’s cologne was a heady love potion on their own.

Steve looks over his shoulder, “Thanks. Uh, you haven't even asked where we are goin’.” 

“You haven’t steered me wrong this far,” Eddie says, trying not to grin back wildly, placing his hands on his own legs. He sits back to create a suitable distance between them, but there are some things he can’t prevent, like the way his knees have to sit on either side of Steve’s hips. It makes him violently jealous of maybe all the past girls who had sat in this seat before him but were able to wrap their arms around him. Rest their heads against his back, maybe even hear his heart beat fiercely for them as they ride off into a perfect sunset.

The journey itself is pleasant. Eddie sees parts of the city he hasn't seen before whizz past him, and due to the steady speed Steve is going, he can fully enjoy the wind occasionally rushing against him as he lets go and doesn't fight the bike with his body in the turns. He thinks about all the times he’d ride at night just to feel the wind rushing through his longer hair under the moon's light.

They stop near a park and dismount. Eddie looks around the vast park in wonderment. Sure, Hawkins had the woods, the lake and the quarry, but this place was so curated.

Steve walks a little ahead of him, does a full turn with his arms outstretched, and shouts, “Welcome to Lincoln Park, Eddie,” he flashes a huge smile as he waits for him to catch up. Eddie can’t even imagine being this proud of Hawkins if their roles had been reversed.

“So, um, what are we doin’ here?” Eddie asks as they stroll along together.

“We’re going to look at what I’ve been told is da most inspirin’ thing in d’ world,” Steve smirks mischievously, and Eddie can’t help but glance over as his heart flutters in his chest at the thought that Steve is such a good person, he’s trying to cure Eddie’s lack of inspiration, “Stars.”

The word jolts Eddie out of his daydream as Steve slows to stop outside a large building, “But it’s nearly two in the afternoon. We can’t see the stars.” Eddie responds, confused.

“Oh yeah, dats right. Well, I guess seein’ as we’re here anyways, I could show you some other weird stuff?” Steve says with a shrug.

“Weird stuff?” Eddie scrunches his nose in bewilderment, but the smile doesn’t leave him.

“Come on, Ed. Live a little. It’s a super scary museum,” Steve jokes, wiggling his fingers at Eddie. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oh yeah?” Steve smirks.

“Yeah!” Eddie says defiantly and walks past Steve into the massive building alone.

Apparently, it's the Chicago Academy of Sciences, and the science Eddie had stumbled into was zoology. Around him are many wooden glass-fronted cases of various sizes, all showcasing animal life. Some exhibits were tiny things containing bugs, others were great dioramas of an era or a setting, and then there was the set of large bones that towered over the place belonging to a mammoth.

Eddie doesn't think he’s ever seen anything like it in his life. He can only stand there and gawk at everything because he doesn't know where to go first.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Steve says as his arm envelops Eddie’s shoulders, walking him around the virtually empty place.

“Neat is one word for it sure,” Eddie tries to say as calmly as he can, but he hears how soft it emerges from his mouth, not like he could help it when he's pulled into Steve’s side like this.

Steve’s free hand waves out in front of them across the room as the other grips his shoulder, “‘Dis place, Ed, I thought it might help ya out, ya know? If you wanna create a monster, all da references are right here, ain't dey?”

Eddie knows that all that is holding him back from fully embracing Steve and his kindness right there and then is prison, death and losing maybe the best friend he’s ever had. Why did he care so much about Eddie’s dreams? Didn’t he have one of his own?

“Wanna play a game, Ed?” Steve asks, turning his head to him, and Eddie can only reflect the radiant smile being beamed at him. A lowly mortal in the presence of the embodiment of the sun itself.

Steve checks his watch quickly, “Ok, we got ten minutes to run around here, find an animal, pick a part of it, and draw it roughly, or write it down.” he fishes in his leather jacket pocket and pulls out some paper scraps and a pencil each, “Den, we switch animals, got it?” 

“Um, why are we only drawing bits of the animals?” Eddie laughs as he takes the items from Steve.

“Creatin’ monsters, o’course!” Steve shouts as someone shushes him, and he gives Eddie’s shoulder a final squeeze before running off towards a deer. 

Eddie’s legs feel like they won't budge, or maybe he’s afraid of walking in case they buckle beneath him. He’s sure if he doesn’t soon, he’ll become an exhibit himself.

Lovesick Homosapian 1959 - Donated by S. Harrington.

He walks to the nearest exhibit and starts making a rough sketch of the body of a stag beetle. It's a very minimal sketch because, try as he might to keep focussed on the task at hand, he can’t help but keep looking over at Steve, who is adorably crouched, resting the paper on his thigh to draw. His tongue pressed between his lips, and his brow furrowed in concentration. Steve must sense his stare and turns toward him, “Done already?” he grins and indicates they trade places.

By the end of the ten minutes, they crowd next to one another to pour over the results. They both have some fascinating creatures on their pages, made with elements of beetle, deer, squirrel and flamingo elements.

Eddie went for the body of the beetle, the multiple legs of the deer, the two heads of a flamingo, the arms of a squirrel and the tail.

Steve’s was…well…it was kinda cute, even though it was still weird-looking. The legs of a flamingo, the body of a squirrel, the head of the deer and the wings of the beetle. It’s also quite impressive for someone Eddie has never seen draw. He hadn't even mentioned it. Then Eddie realises he never really asked either.

“Wow, I really like your one,” Eddie enthuses over Steve’s drawing.

“Ya do?” Steve says excitedly, and his face looks almost like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear it, but the expression fades as quickly as it appears. Steve shakes his head and looks down with a laugh, “Ah, ya got me. Good one.”

“I’m not kidding. I do like yours better.” Eddie says, pulling the drawing towards himself from under Steve’s fingers. “Though it doesn’t seem very monstrous. Seems kinda sweet, honestly.” Eddie teases and turns to his friend, whose sweet brown eyes are waiting to cut off his breath, and tries to refashion it into a sigh, which somehow Eddie manages to swallow down, and turns back to Steve’s drawing, rolls it up like a scroll and puts it in his inside breast pocket, “Seems only fair, you already have one of mine.” 

Steve doesn't say anything, just keeps that gentle smile on his face as he lightly tugs Eddie’s elbow to follow him, but sadly doesn't keep hold of it.

Steve stops outside a huge, tilted back, painted, partial globe. Protruding from it is a rectangular box with seats in it. At a complete loss, Eddie turns to Steve, who looks at Eddie from the corner of his eye, looking pleased, but says nothing.

An elderly man approaches them, and his face lights up, “Steve?!”

“Da very same,” Steve answers happily.

“I haven't seen you in a while. Everything ok?” He says, coming forward to kiss Steve on each cheek, and his eyes fall on Eddie, “Nice to meet you, welcome to the-”

“No. Don't tell him,” Steve quickly interjects, “It's a surprise. He’s not from here.”

“Oh, ok, no problem.” The man opens the door to the rectangular type box, steps inside and seats himself, and waves them in.

Steve nods towards it and goes in next. Eddie follows him inside. As he sits down next to Steve, he barely has time to enjoy the sensation of brushing arms with him when the whole thing starts whirring and the box they are sitting in starts moving into the orb, and as they do, the globe begins to close over them, until they are plunged into complete darkness.

And that's when Eddie starts to see them, the stars.

The machine whirs, and the sky turns, allowing them to see more constellations. And Eddie is entirely in awe even lets out an audible gasp a few times, causing Steve and the greying gent to snicker. But Eddie couldn’t care less. Here he was basking in a marvel, the ability to see the stars any time of day, irrespective of weather, and this was all happening due to the incredible man shuffled up next to him. A feeling of disappointed acceptance begins to gnaw at him and threatens his unabashed joy. He’d found this amazing person who goes to such lengths to help him with something that most people would find trivial, yet he could never have him as his own.

He’s glad it's dark in here, so Steve can't see the frown that sets onto Eddie’s forehead as he thinks about how furious society makes him, that it asks him to be kind and loving but be tough and never show emotion. Asks him to show love freely, but only in the confines of heterosexuality. Tells him to take his time to appreciate the world around him but forces him to hurry along and keep his head down.

Steve shuffles next to him, breaking him out of his momentary lousy mood, and reminds him that whilst he can’t have everything he wants, he can capture moments like this and keep them for his own forever, and no one could take those away from him.

The machine whirs again, and light fills the space as they exit the contraption, “The Atwood Sphere,” The greying gent says as they leave, looking amused at them before waving them goodbye.

Eddie clears his throat, “That was amazing! Did you come here a lot as a kid?”

“Yeah, and no. My pa used to bring us here after he’d come home after da war. The navy used dat for training navigation, ya know.” Steve replies.

Eddie feels the question on his tongue but is frightened to ask, so he rephrases it, “What an incredible thing to share with your Pa. Bet he knew a lot about the stars and things like that?”

“Oh sure, yeah. Wish I could remember more of da stories he told us dat lived in the night sky.” Steve says a little quieter, “Did your pa do the same?”

Eddie chuckles to lighten the mood a little, “Couldn’t shut up my dad up. He had a story for everything. Especially if it had anything to do with my mama.”

“A romantic, was he?” Steve chuckles, and it's like music to Eddie’s ears.

“That is an understatement. Pa’s crazy about her.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asks curiously.

“Oh yeah, think I found a piece of his poetry to her earlier,” Eddie smiles and glances at Steve for his reaction. To see if he frowns or ridicules at the softness of a man towards his wife, but Steve only smiles and nods.

“What was it about?” Steve happily asks.

“Something about a star and a soul,” Eddie tries to remember, and Steve hums as they walk. They enjoy the quiet for a few steps outside the building before he continues, “You ever heard the story about soulmates?”

Steve turns to him and raises an eyebrow, “No.”

“Well, in the legend. Humans originally had four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. They had started to become quite powerful and threatened to rule over the gods, and Zeus didn't much like that at all. The gods were gonna wipe out the humans completely, but they needed the humans to offer tributes, so they had to come up with something else,” Eddie clasps his hands in front of him, “So they decided to split humans in half as a punishment, to remind them of their place, and at the same time would double the tributes offered.”

“But wouldn’t dat make twice as many humans to rise up against them?” Steve asks curiously, and the fact that he’s actually been listening makes Eddie put a little more performance into the story. Jogs a few steps ahead of Steve and animatedly tells the rest while walking backwards.

“Well, it should have, except for one thing. The humans were miserable, and without their other half, they didn't care if they lived or not. Also making their tributes dwindle,” he stops dead in his steps with a finger in the air, and Steve does too with surprise-widened eyes. Seemingly fascinated in the tale, “But Apollo hated seeing them this way, so he sewed them up, leaving them one physical reminder of their true original form. The humans never quite rose up like that again because even though they were healed, they still longed for their other half, not just their body, but the other half of the soul too.” Eddie finishes with a flourish of his hand and a bow. Immediately after which, he regrets it. This was the part of him he’d been trying to keep under wraps. Showing off was his old self, not this one. But he hears the one thing most performers can’t resist. Applause.

Steve is smiling and clapping his hands, and Eddie feels the heat rise to his cheeks as he turns around and falls into step next to Steve, “So yeah, that's the legend about soulmates.”

“I hadn’t heard dat before. Thanks,” Steve says as they approach the gleaming Thunderbird. He turns and looks curiously at Eddie, “Say, you wanna take us home?”

“I, um, I don’t even-” Eddie starts to lie.

“I don’t think dats true at all. I think you can ride, and I think you had a bike like dis one,” Steve says with smug confidence.

“How did-” Eddie tries to ask, a little flabbergasted.

“Well, because I used to talk to your ma a lot when she worked on things at da store and apartment for us,” Steve laughs but doesn't seem mad that Eddie lied, “You ain’t gotta be anyone else but you ‘round me, Ed. We’re good. Everyone’s gotta past.” 

Eddie realises that perhaps he isn’t just accepting the version of Eddie from before, but also he was inviting Eddie to accept him too. Clearly, he wasn’t just randomly friends with a motorcycle gang, and he didn’t just magically have a bike lying around to give to Jonny. And with what Jonny had said, there was more than just a bunch of kids watching out for Steve.

“Sure,” Eddie smiles, “Sorry,” he adds an apology, and Steve nods, tossing him the keys, which Eddie fumbles to catch as they almost drop to the floor.

Eddie sits at the front of the bike and barely has a few seconds to enjoy the feeling of the handlebars under his grip because Steve is already clambering on behind him, and he has to brace his legs and lean his own weight against Steves to keep the balance. Not that he minds in any way. It's clear Steve is not accustomed to being the passenger as he struggles to get seated, using Eddie as a supportive climbing frame. 

“All set?” Eddie asks as he looks over his shoulder to see a glimpse of Steve, who gives him a thumbs up. But as he turns his glance back to the road ahead, he sees how Steve's thicker thighs are at his sides, and he’s elected to put his hands on his knees and a glimmer of mischief enters Eddie’s mind as he starts up the bike.

He pulls away much too quickly on purpose and feels Steve's large hands grip his waist, “Uh, sorry about that. I’m a bit rusty,” he shouts back as he slows down. Steve’s hands release him but come back to smooth over his jacket where he’d latched on and shuffles forward slightly. 

The city looks different as the sun sets on it, bathing it in both the last remnants of its glow and the coolness of approaching dusk. It feels almost like the city is waking up for its second shift as more lights from homes and signs begin to illuminate as they travel. It should be calming, but that is impossible due to the rate at which his heart is racing.

Eddie can barely breathe when he feels Steve’s legs squeeze around him as he moves, and the mix of his body heat and Steve’s almost makes him feel like he might overheat. But rather than panic, he tries to relax into it, as occasionally Steve leans forward gently to point out the turning he needs to take. It makes Eddie wish it wasn’t just a primarily straight road going home because every time they come to a turning, Steve would extend one arm out to indicate, and his other would rest against Eddie somewhere. His hip, his waist or shoulder, and each one comes with surging electricity of magic that pours through the threads of the fabric of his clothes, seeps into his skin and makes his heart and soul spin like characters on a carousel along to the music of Steve’s occasional laugh when Eddie takes a corner too tightly or pulls away from a light quickly.

Sooner than he’d like, they are nearing home, and Steve points towards Eddie’s apartment, “You sure?” Eddie shouts.

“Yeah!” Steve affirms, and Eddie pulls up outside the apartment building.

They stand near the bike for a while, and it feels familiar. And he knows it's not. It could never be, but it looks a lot like all those times he’d dropped girls off at their houses after taking them on a date. Except he’s not in his usual role. Regret swirls as he thinks about all or any of those girls that might have felt like he does right now, as he looks at Steve smiling back at him from the bike.

Almost like he can read his mind, Steve tilts his head curiously. “Can I ask you somethin’ Ed?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Eddie blurts out as he is dragged out of his thoughts.

“Dat story you told me earlier. ‘Bout da soulmates. You didn’t say what happens when dey find each other.” Steve asks, looking at Eddie but toying with one of the zippers on his jacket, “Or don't dey?”

“Oh well, my pa said that there is no escape,” Eddie laughs gently, “They are drawn together over time, and when they finally do meet. They just know. Like their souls do all the understanding for them, so they don't have to work it out. They’ll feel whole and happy. Like the happiest they ever felt, kinda thing.”

“I like dat,” Steve smiles hugely, “See ya tomorrow, Ed,” he says with a two-finger wave and starts up the bike to ride back home.

Eddie watches him ride the short distance away, and suddenly, the chill in the air makes itself known. He huddles his jacket around himself and climbs the stairs to the doors of the building before turning back to watch as his waiting friends swarm Steve outside the store. His laughter on the breeze makes Eddie smile again, and he finally turns to go inside.

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

Some extra bits of info if you are interested:

Notes: The Building they visited was the Chicago Academy of Sciences in Lincoln Park https://naturemuseum.org/explore/history/

The Atwood Sphere was based in this building until 1997 when it was moved to the Adler Planetarium.

[madaboutmunson]

Sweet Home Chicago Series (Summary Post)

Week 1 | Week 2 | Week 3 | Week 4 & 5

So this is a little AU that was inspired by the picture below of Joe Keery from the Style Magazine Italia photoshoot.

The setting is 1959 Chicago, Little Italy.

In this AU you’ll see Steddie have pretty different lives to the AU’s I normally write.

Steve isn't the sad, rich, lonely only child he normally is.

Eddie is turning over a new leaf and his parents are relatively ok.

I chose 1959, not because of the show canon connection but rather because of the style at that particular turn of the decade.

These are my versions of them I made for my own reference, and yours if you want an idea of how I see them.

I don't think there are any warnings on this one, but if you spot anything you think should be flagged up as a warning, please let me know and I will add it straight away.

I decided to use it as my setting for @eddiemonth, and am aiming for one fic per week, with a selection of the week’s prompts to be included.

It’s going to be a lot of wholesome fluff, honestly, and I hope you like it 🙂 Week 1 | Week 2 | Week 3 | Week 4 & 5 -------------------------------------------------------------------- Songs from this era referenced in this series (if you ar interested in that sort of thing):