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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

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armed your words with explosive devices and put the trigger on your tongue.

I never know if a kiss will kill me.

It's a joke.

Or at least, Eddie meant it as one.

He was flicking his hand out with the intention of pretending to "push" the weight off Steve's shoulders, following a joke about how he looks like he's carrying the whole world on his back.

Beyond the general air of a frazzled single mother, Harrington had been down to clown. He'd laughed at Eddie's first few jokes, even made a poor attempt at making one back.

So it surprised both of them when Steve flinches back, hard, sucking in a noisy breath.

For a moment he holds it in and Eddie mimics him, hand frozen midair.

They breathe out almost together as Eddie slowly lowers his hand.

"Steve." Eddie starts off, voice soft.

Steve jams his hand in his hair, face flushing red. "Sorry man, jock reflexes."

He catches the second Steve forces a smile back on his face, the way his desperate attempt at tugging on his own hair changes into a move designed to fluff it up. A laugh makes its way out of Steve’s mouth and to his credit, it sounds natural.

This, Eddie realizes with an abrupt clarity, is Steve caught wrong-footed in public. This is Steve being off and fixing it before he breaks down.

It’s a good cover, excellent even, and if Eddie hadn’t been watching for the signs, if he hadn’t started looking closer and closer at Harrington after finding him drunk and bloody in Tina’s bathtub, he might have brushed it off.

Thought of it as Steve being a jerk, a jock, a guy who didn’t want to touch the filth that was Eddie Munson and was now trying to hide it.The same way so many others did, because they’d learned the hard way that a pissed off dealer won’t sell you any drugs.

Eddie could even see him spinning this as having an off day. Maybe Steve was sore, maybe he was annoyed, maybe he was six other million things that he’d lead you to believe.

Worse than knowing that he’d have bought Steve’s cover though, is that Eddie recognizes this.

Has seen it before.

Or micro versions of it.

In class, when Steve’s asked a question he doesn’t know. In the hallways when someone tells a joke about his parents. In the parking lot when those kids snap at him, rolling their eyes and throwing their hands around.

Even the one basketball game Eddie attended, during his ill-fated attempt at joining the yearbook club before he finally started Hellfire.

There had been a moment where Tommy had briefly turned on Steve, got some of the other boys to snap and snarl at the King in the face of a bad score.

Called him stupid.

Spineless and gutless.

(Steve hadn’t even been the captain, back then.

They held him responsible anyway.)

Eddie had thought it well deserved--even funny at the time-- considering what made up a man like Steve Harrington.

Get big movie star hair, combine with no parents, and add tons of money. Shaken and stirred with little bits of never-ending popularity and girls swooning left and right over him, and you got Hawkin High’s most popular guy.

Good to buy you whatever you needed, with a famously sharp tongue that he used in place of his fists.

Grant still had nightmares over some of the names Steve had nailed him with.

He was the school’s most desired bachelor until Nancy Wheeler took him down, proved even kings could be cheated out of their kingdoms.

(One of the teenagers at the famed Starcourt fire, a hero in the papers for saving half a dozen kids. The pictures the news still occasionally shows often pin up those pictures of Steve, wearing this exact smile.

It’s the same one he’s wearing now, as Starcourt burns in the background of each and every photo..)

The realization comes with a flood of knowledge--that Steve knows how to hide his issues, that he’s had issues for far longer than whatever--or whoever--is beating him up.

Longer than Eddie himself had caught onto too--and Eddie had prided himself on seeing through people’s bullshit.

If he does what Steve wants, let’s this drop, Steve will go on acting like everything’s fine.

Just like everyone else does.

Eddie can’t do that. Has never been able to do that.

"We both know that's bullshit." Eddie says, and he knew calling it out would get a reaction, but he’s not expecting the sheer strength of it.

How Steve looks like he’s taken a punch, mask breaking fast on his face to reveal the hurt underneath.

"Don't--" He tries to start, tries to breathe again and Eddie's not sure what caused it, but he knows the beginning of a panic attack when he sees one. “Don’t, please--”

It’s the please that gets Eddie, the word sounding bruised. Like it hurts Steve to say it, that he only uses it as a hail mary that it may somehow help ward off whatever is coming.

Eddie fights not to put his arms around Steve.

Protect him from whatever the hell is happening.

"Hey." Eddie says, softly but clearly. "I’m sorry. Tell me what I did and I won’t do it again.”

They’re in the middle of the school parking lot and neither of them can afford to misstep here. Not in a town like Hawkins. Eddie has a choice to make--to sweep Steve to somewhere safer, or to give space, back off so the younger man can regain control of himself and pick this up later.

Steve takes a shuddering breath, hugs himself and bows his head.

Eddie wants to go to him, to touch and comfort, but instead just hovers ever so slightly closer. “I’m here.” He whispers, just loud enough for Steve to hear.

Steve takes the moment he needs, and Eddie knows he can at least give him that. Shield him from any onlookers with his own body. Use himself as a distraction if anyone comes up.

His cheeks are wet when Steve raises his head. He wipes his face, bites his lip.

It takes far less time for him to return to normal than Eddie would have ever thought, but then Steve Harrington keeps surprising him.

“Shit.” He says, voice in a sort of croak. He clears his throat once, harshly. “Sorry.”

“I set you off, this ones on me.” Eddie says, keeping his voice smooth and calm. “I don’t want to push you, but I need to know what I said to upset you, so I can prevent it from happening again as best I can.”

Steve looks up for a moment, away from him. Eddie allows it, acknowledges the move as Steve gathers the strength to face whatever hurt him enough to send him spiraling. This isn’t an easy thing he’s asking, and they’re in the worst place to do it--a potential audience can appear at any time.

Eddie doesn’t want to lose this thread, though. Knows instinctively, how important it is.

“It’s stupid.” Steve’s struggling to sound more normal, but the real surprise is that he’s starting to manage it. “It’s so stupid, but it’s--the word.”

Short-term memory recall isn’t exactly a talent of his, but Eddie’s had plenty of practice with D&D. He runs the conversation back, and there’s really only one option that makes any sense. He almost says it again, but catches himself.

Thinks quickly on his feet.

“Adult male cow crap?” He says, and tries to make his tone a little light. This is a calculated risk, Steve may very well believe he’s being mocked or teased.

The younger man snorts a laugh and thankfully doesn’t appear to take offense. “Yeah.” He drawls out, a tinge of embarrassment flushing across his nose.

It’s fucking adorable, and Eddie has to bite his lip to keep interrupting, inappropriate thoughts at bay.

“Nance--when we--” Steve huffs an annoyed sigh, arms having shifted long ago to more of a defensive cross, nails digging into his sleeves while he taps his foot, aggravated. “It’s fucking stupid man, but that word got tossed around.”

“Got it.” Eddie nods his head. “It’s gone.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that.” Steve says, and it's got an angry undertone to it. “I need to get over it anyway. It’s been long enough.”

The anger, Eddie decides, is self directed.

He cocks his head. “Do people tell you to do that a lot? To just get over it?”

Steve finally looks at him and to his credit the guy’s managed to go from actively falling apart to merely appearing cold and annoyed, as if the redness in his face itself is trying to help hide his emotions.

That hurt thing flickers in and out of his eyes though, covered by an edge of something else, something stubborn.

Yet again, Eddie finds himself wondering if he’s found Steve’s limit. If this is when he finally gets pushed away and threatened over all the things that have been revealed to him. Steve hasn’t made that move yet, but Eddie thinks that's mostly because Eddie keeps catching him off guard.

To be fair, his own reactions are, at times, catching him off guard. This defensiveness of Steve, the way he wants to go slam whoever has hurt the younger man into a wall, to try and make everything better for a guy he previously hated…

Eddie knows what’s gotten into him. It’s his own personality, combined with his own inner sense of someone lost and hurting. Someone who needs to be rescued.

He just never expected to have it pointed at Harrington.

“Maybe.” Steve admits finally. “Doesn’t mean they’re wrong though.”

Eddie can’t help himself. It’s a puzzle in front of him, dangled in the form of Steve and his weird injuries. Steve and his odd reactions.

Beautiful, gorgeous, straight Steve Harrington, who once pressed his cheek into Eddie’s hands and closed his eyes like he’d found a slice of heaven.

“Why?” Eddie challenges. He’s still close. Close enough that they’re going to have to pretend to be fighting if anyone else starts making noise. Eddie’s lost track of time entirely, can’t recall what period this is. Where he’s even supposed to be.

Hell, he never even asked why Steve was here.

Steve’s mouth opens and closes, like he had an answer but suddenly thought better of it.

He’s still tapping his foot.

“Why would they be wrong? ” And at first Eddie thinks Steve is turning the challenge back on him, until he clocks the confused crinkle in his forehead, right between his eyebrows.

Like a dog who just wants to be a good boy, and doesn’t understand why he’s being shouted at.

‘Eddie, for once in your fucking life, focus!’ He thinks furiously at himself.

“Because it hurts you. Because all of us “get over” things in different ways, at different paces.” He makes the quotes with his fingers, putting on a fun voice just to try and make even a small smile appear on Steve’s face.

It works, and Eddie grins despite himself and the seriousness of the moment.

“Doesn’t matter how stupid it is, Steve-O. Our brains don’t care.” He knocks on his own to make his point.

“I guess.” Steve says, and it’s not an agreement but Eddie will take it.

Will take anything Steve will give him, which just shows how badly he’s screwing himself.

Straight boys, even ones wrapped up in some kind of mystery and sprinkled with dozens of other things that catch Eddie’s attention like Steve’s his own personal brand of crack, typically don’t mean anything good for him.

This time, he just hopes it can mean something good for Steve.

Eddie might not know much, but he knows Steve deserves something good.

#steddie #hurt/comfort #angst #steve harrington #steve needs a hug #eddie munson #this is pre relationship #whumpverse #steve x eddie #pre S4 #or Alt s4 #this takes place like riiiight after s3 lol #0o0 fanfics #stranger things fanfiction

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

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The Occult Summoner Starter Kit was a failed competitive toy to Hasbro's Ouija Board (a game that was doing numbers in 1986 for reasons the government would later pretend they noticed a lot sooner than they actually did.)

Unfortunately for the toy company, The Occult Summoner Starter Kit (complete with two real, black candles!) was a total flop.

In fact it barely sold at all, stubbornly hanging on to sale racks to the point where you could offer a store owner a dollar and they'd be delighted just to have the shelf space.

No one really bought them, outside of confused grandmothers and a handful of children who used the candles for arson.

Eddie Munson bought seven.

Initially it had just been three kits, because it was cheap and making a proper set up for D&D boss battle was an art form.

The rest was something of a joke. Some asshole a year above him decided Eddie ran a cult and made sure the entire school knew, earning Eddie endless amounts of stupid, mocking questions.

In return, he had found it absolutely hilarious to offer Occult Summoner Starter Kits to anyone being a jackass.

You gotta make your own fun, sometimes.

At least it came in handy now that they were attempting to summon some actual occult bullshit. Eddie had no idea if the sets were going to work, but it was better than the two cans and a fricken string Henderson and Sinclair had presented him with.

"You use those as a telephone, not to talk to the dead." He'd chastised, which lead to Sinclair sputtering and Henderson going on a rant that included words like "psychic-soundwaves" and "electromagnetic fields.""

IE way above Eddie's own head, even if he was loath to admit it.

At least Harrington hadn't bothered to pretend he knew what the kid was on about, looking at Dustin with exasperation so fond it gave Eddie the worst urge to bite something.

Preferably Harrington.

Which, in retrospect, should have been the first sign something had gone horribly wrong because Eddie's bite reflex only came out this strong for cute shit.

"Explain to me again what exactly we are trying to contact?"

"Not a what, who." Henderson corrected, setting up the kits he'd snatched from Eddie's arms.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Okay fine. Who exactly are you trying to connect to? And why the hell did we have to do it specifically in King Steve's backyard?"

Shock of shockers that his majesty even let Eddie in the house, let alone Eddie armed with a literal stack of a game that would have sent most of his neighbors fleeing in terror.

"Would you stop interrupting?" Dustin snapped, looking up from his work with an annoyed frown. "You're just as bad as Steve! Go talk to him so I can concentrate."

The tone alone would have made Eddie gape, but the sheer audacity of it all threw him so hard he just stood there wide eyed.

Unsure if it had actually happened, or if he had just hallucinated.

Hell, maybe this whole thing was one giant weed induced coma dream, and he'd wake up all snug in the trailer. Warm, childless, and not anywhere near Steve Harrington's stupid, perfectly shaped ass.

(The very same ass that was currently wearing shorts that hugged them so tightly it made Eddie want to scream and pull at his hair.

Shorts shouldn't fit like that, dammit!)

"I keep telling him he needs to work on his tone." Harrington said, startling Eddie out of his thoughts and making him blush scarlet.

A fact he quirky hid by running his hands over his face.

"No kidding." Eddie muttered. Louder, he asked; "Why is this even happening?"

Steve blinked.

"Huh?"

"This kinda thing isn't exactly your scene, man. In fact, I recall several remarks about how you wouldn't be caught dead playing with," Eddie removed his hands so he could make air quotes, "--fake nerd bullshit."

Steve flinched, looking away while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"I used to be an asshole, yeah." He said.

Eddie made a loud, ugly noise.

"Used to?" He challenged, crossing his arms.

"Still am sometimes." Steve admitted, a soft, apologetic look on his face. "The kids made me wanna change, though, and after I did I realized that I never really liked who I was."

He smiled absently at the trio crouched down on the pool deck as he talked, voice startling honest.

Not that Eddie was about to let it slide. He didn't have any proof that Harrington had changed.

Not really.

The fact he'd noticed Steve had stopped hanging out with his douchebag friends his last year, or that Eddie had walked face-first into a pillar upon seeing him working at Scoops before the mall burnt down didn't count.

Not that Eddie kept an eye out for the guy or anything.

"Still." He snipped, shaking the thoughts away with a toss of his head. "I wouldn't have guessed you'd let them try to summon a dead guy in your backyard."

The very idea of it was the kind of absurd that even Eddie couldn't believe.

Except the look Steve was giving him now wasn't embarrassed or even annoyed.

It was puzzled.

Surprised, even.

"Oh they didn't tell you?" Steve said, raising an eyebrow. "They're not trying to summon a dead guy."

A pit of dread bloomed in Eddie's stomach, an internal warning that things were about to go sideways, fast.

"What are they trying to do then?" Eddie asked, the words crawling out of his mouth without his permission.

"They're trying to call El--Mike's girlfriend, in California." Steve said, which was interesting because it confirmed that Mike wasn't lying when he insisted his little girlfriend was a) real and b) did in fact like being called Eleven instead of Jane sometimes.

"Apparently they rang up a nasty phone bill trying to include her on a party line call last week." Steve waved a hand. " So Occult Summoner kit it is."

"They woke me up, at eight in the morning, on a Saturday," Eddie began, horrified, "so the three of them could call Mike's long distance girlfriend?"

"Mmhmm."

"I'm going to kill them." Eddie said faintly. He swayed backwards dramatically, though part of him really did go lightheaded with the knowledge that the freshmen had walked all over him for once instead of their self-proclaimed babysitter.

Alarmingly, Harrington reached out, as if he was going to catch Eddie like the fucking Disney prince the entire town thought he was.

Eddie ended the dramatics immediately, before he made a fool of himself by actually falling (or worse, said something stupid the second Steve's arms came around him, the very thought of which made him want to throw up and die.)

Satisfied Eddie wasn't going to go down like a Victorian maiden, Harrington slowly lowered his arms back to his sides

"Want a beer?" He offered, as Eddie silently choked on his own anger.

"God yes."

xXx

Conceptually, Eddie understood how ended up hungover in Steve's bedroom.

The kids had taken so long that they'd run through an entire case of beers, which hadn't seemed to phase Harrington one bit, but had, rather unfairly, put Eddie right on his ass.

Since he was unable to drive the kids home, Steve had ended up dropping them off instead, and then picked up pizza on the way back for Eddie to sober up over like the good civilian he was.

In return, Eddie had offered some of his weed as both an apology and a thank you--and then made the mistake of taking up Steve's offer of smoking it with him.

"Had a bad trip a while back." The younger man had said, almost shyly. "I don't really get high much anymore, and never by myself.”

How could Eddie say no to that?

Which of course meant he'd then smoked and ate and ended up getting into Harrington's father's expensive scotch--

("You cannot sit here and tell me there's not a difference between five dollar and one hundred dollar scotch Steve. I don't believe it."

"Dude give me two minutes and I will prove to you they taste exactly the same.")

--which meant no driving home.

The bedroom had come into play when Eddie found himself in a discussion on rich people's horrible taste in décor.

Sure, using Steve's own house as an example wasn't the brightest of ideas, except Steve had simply raised an eyebrow and told him that the bare ass, gray living room they sat in was nothing.

Led him up to his room, upon which Eddie had become so dizzy staring at all the plaid that he’d laid down dramatically on Steve’s bed and loudly declared he’d died from horrible décor.

Considering the plaid everything in Steve's own room was currently making Eddie's hangover worse, he thought he'd rather proved his point.

What Eddie didn’t understand is why Steve hadn’t kicked him out of the house already. It wasn’t like they were friends. Hell, he and Steve had barely spoken before today, and even then they’d only had a few stilted conversations that had been the result of Henderson trying to force them to become buddies.

Okay, Steve ended up being fun to hang out with. Yes he had in fact, changed from the King persona he wore so easily in high school. No Eddie and he had never had any kind of direct confrontation with each other, but it was a damn small town.

You couldn’t walk three feet without repeatedly running into other people’s business.

It was still weird.

The sun beaming into the room declared it was at least past 9 am, and the smell of coffee and breakfast foods wafting up the stairs hinted that Steve had been up before him for at least thirty minutes, minimum.

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and Eddie looked up to watch as Steve, fully dressed, came trotting through the door, a glass of water in hand.

"Morning.” Steve said with a grin. “You doin’ ok man? Remember everything you did last night?"

"This isn't my first hangover, Harrington." Eddie scoffed, scooting to the edge of the bed. He gratefully accepted the glass of water Steve gave him, chugging it empty before carefully setting it aside on the nightstand. “A few beers and some weed isn’t enough to give me amnesia.”

Which of course, wasn’t true at all--his memories were a blurry mess after he landed in Steve’s bed, but he knew they’d had at least one more discussion before dropping off because he definitely recalled Steve laughing about Eddie insisting he sleep on the right side of the bed.

Not that he was going to admit that to King Steve, whose clearly high level of tolerance probably stemmed from stupid jock genes.

(Or a family history of alcoholism, but Eddie had found out the hard way one tended to get punched for stating that little fact.)

"Good." Steve said with a smirk.

Then he walked over to the bed, placed a hand on either side of Eddie's hips, bent and kissed him.

It was a good kiss--a great kiss even!-- except Eddie’s entire brain ground to an abrupt halt, bodily functions and ability to kiss back freezing right with it.

"Whaaa-".Eddie said intelligently once Steve departed, the only thought that came through the cloud of singing angels and buzzing static of confusion.

Considered, maybe, that the room had actually killed him because Steve? And Eddie?

Kissing!?

Harrington moved back, "There. Proof.” He teased, looking up through his eyelashes with a downright sinful grin and oh god, could a man die twice?

Eddie was certain he was about to find out if Steve kept looking at him like that.

When Eddie didn’t answer (couldn’t!) Steve added coyly, “I thought you said you remembered everything?"

Except of course, his own lack of reaction had to ruin it because he saw the moment Steve realized Eddie was frozen in place.

“You lied.” He decided, and the sweet, adorably smug look dropped off his face so fast that Eddie whined aloud.

Steve removed his hands from the bed, pushing to stand up and put some room between them. He ran his hands through his hair and oh, oh shit, he was starting to panic.

‘Say something. Say something right the fuck now you idiot-!’

“What am I not remembering?” Eddie asked, forcing the words out and not caring that they weren’t clear. He could make them clear in a moment if he had too, he just needed to know what the fuck just happened. “Because I know for a fact we didn’t kiss last night, there is no way in hell I would ever forget that.”

Steve’s distressed look depend and okay, maybe he should have considered the words and tone better but you had to forgive a guy when his very straight crush decided to up and kiss him out of nowhere.

Giving up any desire to look cool or casual about this in anyway (because he couldn’t, there was no way he was going to keep his composure through this and he might as well admit that to himself now, before he went and fucked up further) he reached out and made grabby hands at Steve.

“Come over while you explain it please, I need to touch you to make sure you’re real.”

He got a squinted look in return, as if Steve was assessing to see if he was joking or not.

Eddie just made the grabby gesture again, arms still outstretched.

“Last night. We uh--talked. About um, gay stuff.”

Thankfully Steve did come closer as he spoke, though the movement was cautious.

Eddie couldn’t blame him--this shit got you hate crimed after all--but made sure to grab at Steve anyway, obnoxiously patting him like he might disappear.

Steve smiled slightly, before taking a breath and speaking. “I asked how you knew you were gay. You explained it to me, and I explained back that I thought I was bisexual.”

Wow, there is a word Eddie had never thought he’d hear out of Harrington’s mouth.

Fuck maybe Buckley was rubbing off on him!

“You told me that it sounded like I was but that sometimes you just didn’t know until you kissed someone. I asked if--if I could…” Steve blushed crimson, the red crawling across his cheeks and down his neck and holy shit, Harrington had come out to him.

Which of course just made him furious that he didn’t remember it, but hell, at least he was getting a repeat!

“Ah, kiss you. To. Figure it out.” Steve plowed on bravely. Eddie’s hands found their way to his wrists and squeezed them lightly, encouraging.

“You said you didn’t take advantage of impaired men, even if they were pretty.”

And yeah, that did indeed sound like something he would say.

“I told you it wasn’t like that but you insisted and said if I still wanted to know, I could kiss you in the morning.” Steve finished. He kept looking at Eddie and then away, like he was hopeful despite his embarrassment.

Eddie took a chance, sliding his fingers down to the palms of Steve’s hands. Tapped and wiggled until he got what he wanted, which was to lace their fingers together.

“So did you figure it out?” Eddie asked, and sue him if his voice sounded a bit breathy. This was the kind of shit porn and women's erotica was made out of.

“Figure out…”

“If you like men.”

“Oh.” Steve paused. Then; “I’m not sure honestly, I kinda panicked when I realized you weren’t reacting.”

Eddie grinned up at him, the look almost feral. “Want to kiss me again to find out?”

A relieved sigh blasted out of Steve as Eddie tugged him down, a stupid grin breaking across his face.

“Yeah.” He agreed.

Then he once again boxed Eddie in, keeping Eddie’s hands in his as he ducked down and pressed their lips together.

This time Eddie pressed back hungrily, deepening the kiss and letting the electricity of the moment cascade over him.

Steve, as it would turn out, ended up needing to kiss Eddie several more times, in order to find out if he in fact liked men, or “if I just like you, Munson.”

Eddie, who had never in his life been happier to be a guinea pig, told him to take his time.

(“Oh shit the pancakes!” Steve said suddenly, ripping his mouth away from where it had been licking a line down Eddie’s neck.

“Not hungry.” Eddie responded, hands tangled up under Steve’s shirt, one leg hooked around Steve’s.

“No I had the stove on, shit--” Steve yelped, trying to get up. Found himself laughing even in his panic as Eddie clung onto him stubbornly, like an octopus. “You can kiss me downstairs Munson, I have to make sure the house doesn’t catch fire!”

“Fine.” Eddie pouted, releasing Steve and standing up after him. “But I want at least one more makeout session before we have any kind of serious conversation about this whole thing!”

The grin Steve shot him made his knees weak. “Deal.” He agreed, before taking Eddie’s hand and rushing them both down the stairs.)

#steddie #pre s4 #or alt s4 #oneshot #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things season four #fruity four #stranger things fanfic #some slight whatever mike and eleven's ship name is #0o0 fanfics

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