#steddiemas

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 16: Angst-Themed (Saturday Sentence Starters)

wc: 1k | Rated: T | cw: Steve’s parents are arguing (he is overhearing it briefly but there are some descriptions of yelling), toxic family dynamics, unstable marriage, cheating

Tags: Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unstable Marriage, Toxic Family Dynamics, Cheating

“I don’t want to fight with you, Caroline,” Steve hears his father bellow from downstairs, “Not tonight.”

He snaps his comic closed and tosses it on the floor.

Steve has no idea what his parents are arguing about. Hell, they don’t even need an excuse these days, he thinks. Someone can so much as fart and it will start a goddamn screaming match.

He guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the holidays and his parents are both off work until the beginning of the New Year. It’s snowing heavy out so they can’t go down to the Martens’ house – their best friends-come-buffer zones.

“Oh, John!” his mother chides before there is a lower muffle that he can’t quite make out.

While being hard of hearing allows him not to hear anything below a shout, the broken argument is still frustrating.

His parents might not need an excuse to fight, but he’d still like to know what it’s about. Gain intel for the inevitable coming days of being stuck in the middle.

Steve has a few guesses as to what it could be.

His mother bought a new car with her Christmas bonus finally topping up her bank account and thus justifying an indulgent and expensive purchase. His father always hates that.

Steve smirks.

If his father didn’t like that kind of independence, why did he marry a high-paid lawyer?

But, the more likely scenario considering his father’s apparent insistence he ‘doesn’t want to fight’ is that he is cheating again.

Cindy, his secretary, or someone new – take your pick.

The telltale signs have been there for a month or two. A renewed cheery attitude, longer office hours, a fresh haircut and new clothes.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it might be a little bit of a motivator behind his mother’s car purchase too – 

“ – Cindy!” his mother shrieks.

Yep, there it is.

Steve rolls off the bed, planting his feet on the carpet right by his shoes.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, scooping up his keys and wallet from the nightstand.

He’s just about halfway to Forest Hills, driving at a snail’s pace because he can’t see for snow, when he begins to regret his decision to leave the house.

Maybe he shouldn’t just barge in on the Munsons unannounced. Like sure, his friendship with Eddie is… teetering on not being entirely platonic. But this might be too much.

He always thought it was too much when he’d walk down to stay at Carol Perkins’ house for an impromptu sleepover. And there was always this awkward, knowing going on with the Wheeler’s when he was dating Nancy and spending a lot of time just hanging about.

Lingering for too long in the kitchen chatting to Karen or watching a game with Ted until the guy started snoring too loud to hear the commentators.

It was all there but largely unspoken.

Only Robin knows the details. And even then, he’s sure that her father’s friendliness towards him was partly due to his daughter telling him all about the trouble at the ‘ol Harrington house. He doesn’t blame his best friend for likely doing so. And he doesn’t consider it blabbing, either. Robin’s parents – her whole family – are amazing.

But some of his parent’s shit is stupid at best, hard to take at worst.

And he is scared to let Eddie in on it.

It’s too much.

He’s too much.

Being a Harrington is too much.

Wayne answers the door with a cup of cocoa that seems glued to his left hand in winter.

“Steve,” he says, voice gruff as ever despite a warm smile.

“Hi,” he replies, looking down at his snow-covered boots, “Eddie in?”

Of course, he’s in, his van is parked outside.

Steve can feel the warmth from inside the trailer. See the twinkle of lights from the Munson’s small, but heavily-decorated, Christmas tree. The smell of cocoa overpowering the ever-present hint of cigarettes.

“Eddie!” Wayne calls over his shoulder, “Steve’s here.”

In a flash, Eddie runs to the front door and practically bumps into his uncle.

“Come in!” he insists, wide-eyed as he looks past his shoulder at the falling snow.

And before Steve can even step in, Eddie is pulling him by his parka sleeve. He only just manages to scrape off his boots on the ‘Home Sweet Home’ adorned welcome mat.

“What some cocoa?” Eddie offers, eliciting a grumble from Wayne.

“I asked if you wanted some,” he chides.

“But Steve might want some,” Eddie grins.

“How about I heat up a pot now, and whoever wants some’s got it?” Wayne suggests, pursing his lips at Eddie and moving to the stove before his nephew can make any more requests.

“Follow me,” Eddie says, grabbing his hand, “I made cookies.”

He wiggles his brows and begins leading Steve to the kitchen.

As he is pulled along, Steve tries not to think about the fact that they are holding hands. Or how he wishes his fifteen-minute-ago Self had thought to bring an overnight bag and allowed himself to assume the Munsons would allow him to stay the night.

But it might be even harder to stop himself from squeezing his friend’s hand and lacing his fingers with Eddie’s.

Eddie lets go of his hand to gesture to the tray of Christmas-themed shapes, all looking a little too dark for gingerbread as they rest on the kitchen island.

“Pick one, Big Boy,” Eddie beams.

Steve reaches for a reindeer, flexing his fingers as he goes and commits the feeling of Eddie’s rings to memory.

“No!” Eddie shrieks, lightly smacking his hand enough that he drops it, leaving the cookie to snap in half as it falls back onto the tray, “His antlers are broken.”

“Christ, boy!” Wayne curses, stirring the pot on the stovetop.

Okay, a tree then…

“The star is missing!”

A bell?

“That was already snapped in half when I got them out of the oven”, Eddie admits with a tight-lipped smile.

Steve places his hands on his hips and rolls his eyes. To him, they all look at least a little crumbly – some he would even describe as lightly charred.

“How about you pick one for me then, Betty Crocker?” he chuckles.

Eddie giggles, twirling a lock of his hair as he carefully considers the tray of mostly broken, dry cookies.

He watches Eddie for a long enough time that Wayne pushes a mug into his hand, the warmth of Eddie’s hand remaining in place due to the heat of the cocoa. It’s a Chicago Cubs mug, one that he finds himself holding at some point each time he is here as if Wayne considers it Steve’s own.

He smiles for the first time in three days.

[steddie-island]

@steddiemas day 7 - mall and/or workplace WC: 952 | Rating: M (for language) No content warnings, full tags on ao3

Update: @doomcheese made lovely lovely art of them and you should go look at it and show it and her all the love!!! 🥰

Jingle Boy Rock

Wearing the usual Scoops Ahoy uniform was bad enough 11 months out of the year. Wearing it in December was fucking miserable. 

Gone were their usual hats, and in their place were elf hats– the kind that were red with green trim, with a bell on the end and giant felt elf ears on the sides. They were given bright red shorts, with a green and red striped shirt that had bells hanging from the spikes around the collar. 

Steve would have preferred to wear the regular uniform everywhere every day for the rest of his life than wear the goddamned elf outfit all month long. 

Especially when Eddie fucking Munson, the goddamn bane of his existence, worked right across the mall, at the record store. Eddie had taken one look at the Scoops uniform and decided that he was going to be the biggest nuisance in Steve’s life. Every lunch break, every time he was bored, every time he just felt like it, he was there. Leaning against the freezer and smiling that crooked smile. Steve really didn’t want to know how much worse the wheedling was going to get when Eddie saw their holiday uniforms. 

“Jingle boy!” 

Steve groaned– he hadn’t been at work for five fucking minutes, and already Eddie was calling across the mall to him. He pushed both hands over his face and grabbed the hat to pull it off. “He only does that because he always gets a reaction out of you,” Robin pointed out. At least her outfit– a red dress with a green shirt underneath it and matching white and green striped tights— was cute. 

“He does that because he’s a pain in the ass,” Steve said. He dropped the elf ears onto the counter and leaned back against it with his arms crossed over his chest. “I can’t deal with this today.” “Right. Like you don’t love it.” Robin shook her head. “Just kiss him already, dingus.” Steve had heard this at least five times already, and just like he had every other time he waved it away. “Do you say that shit to him, too?”

“No, just to you.” She pushed away from the counter. “Hey, Eddie.” “Hey Buck!” Eddie sauntered over to the counter. Surprisingly he was wearing a hat, too, but it was black velvet with white fur trim. 

“Santa’s goth now?” Steve asked. “Metal, actually. I have to shake things up somehow, right?” Eddie leaned against the freezer. “I like the new getup. It’s very… ‘Hallmark threw up on me.’”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Do you need something, Munson? Some of us actually have work to do.”

“No one’s here,” Robin pointed out. She just grinned when Steve glared at her. 

“I’m actually here ‘cause I have something for you,” Eddie said. For the first time that Steve could recall, Eddie actually looked… nervous. 

“You have something… for me?” he asked. 

“Yeah.” Eddie pulled a box out of his pocket. “It’s not a big thing, just… something that made me think of you.” He slid the box across the counter and tapped the lid with his fingers. “Go ahead, open it.”

“It’s only the 7th,” Steve said. 

“I know, but I want you to open it early.” Eddie tucked his hands into his back pockets. “Please?”

“You said ‘please.’ Does that mean something’s gonna jump out of the box at me?” Steve joked. He untied the pretty red ribbon and took the lid off. Inside was the cutting of a plant, just a stem with a few little shoots that ended in green leaves and little white berries. There was a matching red ribbon tied around it. 

“Is this…” Steve looked at Eddie. He wondered vaguely if his cheeks were as pink as Eddie’s were. “...mistletoe?”

“Yeah.” Eddie ducked his head so his hair fell into his face. “I, um… I realized that I don’t think my flirting has been working? And I figured, before I turned you off of me forever…”

“Wait– wait, you’ve been flirting with me?” Steve asked. “Since when?”

Eddie looked at him with those big, deep eyes. “Since I walked in and said ‘hey, big boy’? What did you think I was doing?”

“Trying to get under my skin!” Steve said. “Are you– really?”

“I wasn’t trying to get under your skin. Maybe in your pan–” “Hey! Maybe you two should go to the breakroom to finish this conversation!” Robin said. “Quickly, though, Santa’s almost here and that means we’re gonna be packed.”

Steve caught Eddie’s hand and tugged him towards the back room that had a couch, two folding chairs, and a wobbly card table. “You’ve really been flirting with me?” he asked. 

It made sense, when he thought back to all the time Eddie spent tugging at his scarf or flicking his hat, talking about his shorts and–

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot.” Steve shook his head and lightly hit himself in the forehead with his fist– a move he wanted to repeat when the bells around his neck jingled with the movement. “Oh my god!”

Eddie giggled and wrapped his fingers around Steve’s hand to stop him from doing that. “Be nice to yourself,” he said, and Steve was shocked when Eddie leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Anyway, Stevie… my gift. What’d you think?”

“I think… that it’s bad luck, if we let it go to waste.” Steve lifted it out of the box by the stem and leaned in with a smile. 

He wasn’t sure what the mistletoe was supposed to mean exactly, but as their lips met, and as his fingers curled into Eddie’s soft hair, Steve found that he was more than willing to find out. 

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 14: Airport

Steve was beyond stressed, "Robin is going to kill me," he mattered looking dejectedly at the board above him.

Every flight tonight had been cancelled because of the snow storm. Robin had warned him about the storms coming and had told him to catch an earlier flight home to Indy so they could all be in Hawkins for Christmas. Steve hadn't listened though and wanted a few more days at the dinner with holiday pay, bills were right over Christmas with gifts and the heater.

He shouldn't be surprised that Chicago had been hit with the biggest snowstorm in years, the night he needed to leave. He slumped back down into his chair with his backpack and placed his head in his hands. He might as well wait and see if it passed and catch the first flight out.

"Snowstorm trap you here too?" A voice beside him asked and he looked up to see a sweet looking man wrapped in a clearly handmade sweater. His curls dangled around the softest eyes Steve had ever seen.

"Yeah, my family is waiting for me, they're going to be so mad."

"My uncle is definitely going to say I told you so, he wanted me to catch an earlier flight."

"My sister said the same thing!"

The stranger laughed and Steve wanted to bottle it and keep hearing it forever, which was probably dramatic since he didn't even know his name.

"I'm Eddie." Ok maybe he's a mind reader?

"Steve, want to kill time with me? I've got cards, we can play go fish."

"Sounds like a perfect way to wait out the storm, Stevie."

The hours passed quickly with the boys wrapped in conversation and their game, and later, when they ended up on the same flight, both headed to a little town called Hawkins, well Steve thinks that might just be fate.

Ao3

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @steddiemas Day 1: Deck the Halls read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve’s annoyed.

More than annoyed, really.

He’s supposed to be at the Munson’s, sitting between Wayne and Eddie, watching the Hoosiers play. Well, trying to watch the game, at least. Eddie has a habit of dozing off before the first quarter ends, head thunking against Steve’s shoulder so he can’t move for the rest of the game.

But no.

His mom just had to call and demand he set up their stupid Christmas tree before she and his dad get home tonight because the annual Harrington Holiday House party is this weekend, and she doesn’t have time to do it herself. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s trusting him enough to decorate the thing. He can count on one hand how many times he was allowed to hang an ornament on the statement piece in their living room.

He can’t even celebrate the decorating victory, though, because he’s still trying to assemble the goddamn thing. Nine-foot trees really aren’t meant to be set up by one person. At least, that’s what Steve’s learning as he tries to balance the next segment of the tree over his shoulder as he climbs up the ladder.

Focused on not falling, Steve doesn’t hear the front door open or the stomps of boots coming into the room. It isn’t until Eddie tuts does Steve startles, nearly toppling over.

“Woah, there big boy,” Eddie teases, reaching out to steady the ladder. “Don’t fall.”

“Don’t scare me then,” Steve snaps. It takes a moment, but he manages to get the next piece into the slot before carefully climbing down the ladder.

“Christ, someone’s feisty today,” Eddie says, hands up in surrender. “I guess it’s a good thing you bailed on me and Wayne to uh…” He glances at the half-assembled tree in the middle of the room. “What are you doing exactly?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Building a stupid Christmas tree.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” Eddie asks, shaking his head. “You can’t build trees. You grow trees.”

Steve snorts. “It’s an artificial tree, Eds. My mom called as I was headed out to your place. Said I needed to get the stupid thing up and fluffed before she got home tonight because she needs a full three days to decorate the damn thing for the annual Harrington Holiday House party.”

“This thing is blasphemous!” Eddie says, circling it like a predator stalking its prey. “I thought rich people love Christmas trees. Don’t you like custom order the biggest one to show off your wealth?”

“Uh, no? My mom says real trees make too much of a mess.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie says, abandoning the tree as he stalks towards Steve. “You mean to tell me you’ve never had a real tree before? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“You’re being weird,” Steve says, shaking Eddie’s hands off his shoulder.

“I am not being weird. You’re being weird. You’ve never had a Christmas tree! Do you even know what they smell like? Steve, you haven’t lived until you’ve smelt a freshly cut down Christmas tree!”

“Jesus, I didn’t know you were so passionate about this,” Steve snorts.

“You think this is bad. Wait until I tell Wayne. He’s going to flip out!”

“Wayne has never flipped out in his life.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a first for everything.” Eddie crosses his arms and then immediately uncrosses them, clapping his hands instead. “That’s it. You’re coming with us this year. Don’t make plans for next Friday! I’m stealing your Christmas tree virginity.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Steve groans, wrinkling his nose. “But fine, I’ll go with you. If you help me with this thing.”

“I don’t think that’s a fair trade-off, Stevie.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really give a shit,” Steve says, bending down for the next segment of the tree. “Now grab an end.”

Steve yelps when he feels a firm hand squeeze his ass. All it takes is one deathly glare over his shoulder for Eddie to stop cackling and get serious.

🎄 🎄 🎄

“I’m going to sue your family,” Eddie whines, collapsing on the couch a few hours later.

“Don’t be a baby,” Steve scolds before dashing off into the living room to grab a couple of beers.

“Excuse me! That thing attacked me! Multiple times! Look at the evidence,” Eddie shouts, yanking up the sleeves of his Hellfire shirt to examine a dozen or so scratch marks up and down his forearms. “And don’t even get me started on my hands! How am I supposed to play guitar, Steven!”

“I told you to wear gloves,” Steve shrugs, returning to the room. He passes Eddie the cold can of beer before sinking into the couch beside him.

“I shouldn’t need gloves because you shouldn’t need to fluff a tree! They already come fluffed because they’re not rotting away in a box all year.”

“You poor thing,” Steve playfully tuts. “Guess I can’t hold your hand now since they’re so beaten up.”

“I never said that,” Eddie squawks as he yanks Steve’s hand into his own.

They sit in silence after that. Nursing their beers as the Christmas tree stands in its makeshift glory in front of them. Steve can tell which side he fluffed and which side Eddie did. The giant gap between the top two layers is obvious, and he knows he’s going to have to climb the ladder and fix it before his mom gets home, but that’s a problem for future Steve. Right now, he wants to sit here with his boyfriend even if his boyfriend is gearing up for another faux Christmas tree rant.

“Don’t tell me your mom is one of those people who only puts those stupid decorative ball things on the tree, too.”

“What do you think?” Steve says, hiding his smile behind the can of beer.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

🎄 🎄 🎄

It takes a bit of convincing and a formal invite from Wayne, but Steve keeps up his end of their deal, joining the Munsons on their quest for the perfect Christmas tree for the trailer.

Eddie has a habit of embellishing when he tells stories, but Merrill’s farm lives up to all the hype. As done, the process of selecting and chopping down the perfect tree. Steve gets stuck being the tie-breaking vote when Wayne and Eddie end up arguing over which tree to bring home. Naturally, Eddie throws a minor fit when Steve sides with Wayne, whining that he likes him better than his own boyfriend, which has Wayne rolling his eyes.

Steve gets to make the first chop but passes the ax off quickly. He doesn’t want to impede on their tradition any more than he has. Besides, axes have never been his thing. He prefers to swing bats instead.

“See, isn’t this much better than building a tree?” Eddie asks, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulder as they stand off the side while Wayne pays.

“It definitely smells better.” Steve inhales deeply, scents of pine and hints of peppermint flooding his senses. Someone should bottle this stuff up and sell it as a cologne, he thinks. He’d definitely wear it.

“It’s easier, too.”

Steve scoffs. “Speak for yourself! You’re not the one who helped Wayne drag it all the way up here.”

Eddie laughs, eyes sparking mischievously. “Wait until you have to help him load it into the truck. That’s always the worst part.���

Steve eyes his boyfriend through squinted eyes. He ducks out of Eddie’s grasp and settles his hands on his hips. “You set me up! You just brought me here so you wouldn’t have to do manual work!”

“You wound me, Harrington,” Eddie gasps, clutching a hand over his heart as he staggers backward. “How can you think so lowly of me.”

“Because I know you, Munson,” Steve teases.

“Alright, alright, fine,” Eddie says, slinking over to Steve. “Maybe I had ulterior motives, but it's only fair after what I suffered helping you with that abomination you call a tree. At least now you’ve experienced a true Christmas tree experience.”

Steve can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as Eddie beams proudly at him.

“Ready to go, boys?” Wayne asks, rejoining them. They both nod, watching as Wayne makes his way over to the heavier side of the tree.

“You don’t have to carry it, Wayne,” Steve says, mischievous flooding his own veins. “Eddie and I will carry it to the car.”

“You bastard!”

“Hey,” Wayne scolds, swatting Eddie’s shoulder. “No swearin’ ‘round kids. I ain’t raise you like that.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he watches Eddie sigh dramatically before carefully shoving Wayne away from the tree. He waits for Eddie to follow his lead, squatting down before he counts them off. On three, they hoist the tree over their shoulders and start heading back out to the car.

🎄 🎄 🎄

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks later, passing Steve a mug full of Wayne’s signature hot chocolate. “Is it better than your tree?”

Steve knows the answer immediately, but he takes a moment. Wants to make Eddie squirm as he admires the tree in front of him. It’s not perfect. It’s a little crooked, and there are hundreds of pine needles littering the floor. The lights are bright, though, and the branches are full of homemade and sentimental ornaments that span decades. A homemade star sits on top in lieu of the traditional angel. A star, Eddie tells him, he and his mom made by themselves the year before she got sick.

It’s perfectly imperfect.

His own traditional, straight out of the pages of a Home and Garden magazine doesn’t stand a chance against this one.

“Yeah, Eds. It’s better than my tree.”

“Victory!” Eddie shouts, nearly spilling his hot chocolate all over himself.

🎄 🎄 🎄

A month later, Steve’s belly is full of the Munson Christmas feast, but instead of lazily lounging on the couch enjoying his food baby, he’s carefully taking ornaments off of the dead Christmas tree that nearly caught fire twice since he’s been here.

“I take it back,” Steve says, carefully taking an ornament off of the dead tree. “Artificial trees are better.”

“They are not!” Eddie whines, wrapping the ornaments Steve hands him in tissue paper.

“I don’t know, Eds. I’ve never had to take down a tree on Christmas before!” he grumbles, reaching for another ornament. “This sucks.”

“It’s all your fault. If you chose my tree, it would have lived for another week! I just know it.”

“Sure it would have,” Steve snorts.

“Look on the bright side, at least we have firewood for the New Year's Eve bond fire now. We can’t do that with your stupid tree.”

“Nope, because I get to use my tree again next year, and you have to buy a new one. Think that’s another point for fake trees.”

Eddie screeches, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and tugging him off the ladder and onto the couch. Despite their full stomachs and tired eyes, they wrestle and laugh as Wayne shakes his head from the doorway, a light cigarette perched between his lips.

“Cut it out, you too,” he scolds when things get more heated between them. “Need it out before it really goes up in flames.”

[puppy-steve]

steddie | G | wc: 462 | cw: injuries, hospitals, aftermath of a motorcycle accident

@steddiemas day 16: "Can you give me one more night, please?" modern au ft. nurse steve

permanent taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero

"Can you give me one more night?" Eddie looks up at him, his brown eyes shining with unshed tears. "Please?"

He knows he shouldn't. He needs to be strong and say tell him, "I'm sorry, but no."

But Steve has never been a strong man when it comes to Eddie Munson.

So he drops his coat on the bedside chair that was occupied by Wayne fifteen minutes ago until he wandered down to the cafeteria for another cup of coffee (Steve could've gotten him one from the machine in the nurse's station—it would've been free, at least) and plops down in the other one with a bone deep sigh.

"Someone's gotta go home and check on Ozzy," he tells him softly, reaching forward to brush Eddie's hair out of his eyes.

Those gorgeous brown eyes that are more alive and bright tonight, though a little unfocused from the pain meds they've got him on, than they were when the ambulance brought him in ten days ago, barely conscious on the gurney but still pleading for his husband.

Steve had never been so terrified in his life.

"Wayne can stop by on his way to work," Eddie says, taking Steve's hand and lacing their fingers together. "Please, Stevie."

Eddie's quiet voice and his pleading eyes have Steve's heart breaking all over again. Eddie's begged him to stay every single night since waking up after his surgery, scared to be alone even for a second.

Steve knows about Eddie's childhood fear of hospitals, but Eddie confided in him on the third night of recovery, still high and loopy on morphine–

"It's not hospitals themselves," he'd muttered. His eyes were closed and his heart monitor was so steady Steve thought he'd fallen asleep.

"Yeah?"

Any free time Steve had, whether he was on his breaks or clocked out, he spent it at Eddie's bedside.

Eddie's eyes briefly opened and his gaze slid over to Steve. "s'the dying alone part that I'm afraid of."

Steve had choked on a sob, already fragile from the very real fact that Eddie had almost died, and made the promise that that was never going to happen.

"You're being discharged tomorrow," Steve says, pressing a kiss to their hands. "This is the last night you have to spend in this place, I promise. You get to sleep in our bed with me beside you and Ozzy tucked behind your knees, and you're never going to look at another motorcycle ever again."

But he doesn't tell him no.

Instead, he makes sure Eddie is as comfortable as he can be without being in pain and carefully climbs into the bed beside him. Wayne comes back and finds them curled around each other and sharing soft kisses between equally soft words.

[sidekick-hero]

tangled with what I never said

(steddie | mature | 994 words | @steddiemas angsty sentence starters and @steddieholidaydrabbles modern au prompts)

NOW WITH A PART 2

"I don't know what you want from me!" Eddie yells, his face contorted in misery.

He doesn't want to fight. He doesn't want to feel the way he does, confused and angry and miserable. He doesn't want to lose Steve.

"I want to know what's wrong. You can talk to me, man. You know you can, right?" Steve's voice wavers at the question, his hazel eyes imploring Eddie to tell him what's wrong so Steve can fix it.

The problem is, Steve can't fix it. Not this one.

Eddie lets out a deep sigh, feeling all his anger drain out of his body, leaving behind a weariness that feels too big for his body. He's just so tired of feeling like this.

"I don't know what to say, Steve. I told you, I'm just tired, okay? Go back to Sam and enjoy your date. I'm fine."

Steve doesn't move, just looks at him with that hurt look on his face and Eddie doesn't know why, but it reignites that seemingly ever-present flame of hot anger in his stomach.

"Stop. Stop looking at me like that." He snaps and sees Steve jump at the sharpness in his voice. They've been roommates for two years now, and friends for almost as long, and Eddie can count the times they've fought on one hand.

"Like what?"

"Like I killed your puppy or something. Like I hurt you when you're the one -" Eddie snaps his mouth shut, but it's too late. Fuck his traitorous mouth that keeps running off and ruining his life.

Steve takes a step forward, then another, inching closer like he's approaching a wild, cornered animal. "When I'm the one hurting you? Is that what's going on, Eddie, have I hurt you?" His hand reaches for Eddie and Eddie wants to take it so badly. That's the problem, isn't it? He wants and wants and wants.

He wants to be happy for Steve, he really does. He wants to smile and congratulate him for finally finding someone he likes enough to take out on dates and kiss good night and hold his hand with that happy smile on his face. Someone to hold him and fuck him so good that Eddie can hear it through the wall separating their bedrooms.

But most of all, Eddie wants to be that person for Steve.

"Eddie?" Steve's voice jolts him from his thoughts as a warm hand settles on his upper arm. "What did I do? Please, tell me."

"You didn't do anything..."

"Bullshit!" Steve shouts, and Eddie swears he can hear that one word echoing through his mind. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

"Steve," he tries, but is cut off by Steve's shaking voice, a stark contrast to the tight grip on his arm.

"No, Eddie. You can't... I can't do this anymore, watching you pull away. It's like. I don't know. Like you're disappearing before my eyes. And I... fuck." He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was after the heavy make-out session Eddie had come home to earlier than planned. His eyes find Eddie's and Eddie's stomach drops when he sees the tears glistening in them. "I miss you, okay? I fucking miss you."

"I'm right here," Eddie whispers. There are so many things he wants to say, needs to say, but they're all stuck in his throat, slowly choking him.

Steve moves even closer so that their faces are only inches apart, his eyes never leaving Eddie's, and whispers back, "No, you're not. Not really. You're like a ghost story." Eddie can feel Steve's breath against his own lips and thinks Steve must be trembling before he realizes that no, that's him.

"Steve, please." He doesn't know what he's pleading for. Maybe to take back those stupid words he said to Steve fourteen months ago.

It was a mistake.

We were drunk and high and I didn't mean it.

We can still be friends.

Maybe he's begging Steve to take the thoughts out of his head so he doesn't have to say them.

I'm sorry.

I was scared because I didn't want to lose you.

I'm so in love with you that some days it feels like it's killing me and I want to let it.

Steve's big, warm hand cradles his face and Eddie leans into it like a flower starving for the nurturing touch of the sun. They are so close that Eddie can feel Steve's body shaking as well, and Eddie doesn't know what it means, but he wants to take Steve and hold him until it stops. Until they can both be put back together again.

"Eddie, I -"

A knock interrupts what Steve is about to say. "Babe, is everything okay?"

Eddie feels his heart crumple in his chest at the sound of Steve's boyfriend's voice.

"Yeah, just give me a second." Steve calls over his shoulder, but when he turns around, Eddie steps away from him.

"Go to your boyfriend, Steve." Eddie tells him before grabbing his jacket and walking out of his bedroom and towards the door. He doesn't know where he's going, just that he hopes they're both gone when he gets back.

He walks aimlessly through the night, replaying their fight over and over again. The way he reacted when he saw Steve and Sam making out on the couch, how Steve followed him, confronted him. Steve telling him he missed him with tears in his eyes and holding his face so gently afterwards.

Maybe it's his Hail Mary, but he has to tell Steve how he feels, if only to make him understand that it's not Steve who's the problem, but Eddie.

Letting himself into their apartment, he finds it dark and quiet as he tiptoes to his room, and he's glad for the delay.

What he isn't prepared for is the sight of Steve lying on Eddie's bed, fast asleep, clutching Eddie's favorite hoodie to his chest.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 7 - Mall and/or Job

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,884 | rated: G

“Munson Residence, wha'd’ya want?” Eddie groans into the receiver.

Whoever this is better be someone super fucking important to have woken him up with their damn ringing. He’s surprised Wayne didn’t wake up too, but it’d be kinda hard to hear the phone over those snores.

“Eddie! Thank god,”

Oh. Steve! Very important, actually.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s up?”

“Eddie, can you do me a huge favor?”

“Yeah, of course, what’s wrong?” he immediately spirals into what all could have gone wrong, what could be going wrong. Everything dark blue and cold, vine-y and the flashing of red lightning—

“Nothing, nothing–well, something.. Can you please run to my place later today and grab my lunch? I forgot it this morning and I know I’m not going to be able to run back and get it and get back in time to eat it before my break is over.”

“Your lunch?” “Yeah, I packed one this morning but left it on the counter. There’s a key under the mat and everything.” Eddie barks out a laugh, “Tryin’ to get robbed, big guy?”

“I don’t care about any of the shit in that house.” Steve scoffs. He shrugs even though Steve can’t see him. “Fair enough. Sure Stevie, I’ll bring your lunch; when do you want me there?” “Dude, you’re the best; My lunch break is right at noon, can you be here just before then?”

“Got it. Five to noon at Family Video.” he drawls out as if he’s writing the information down.

“Uh, actually…not Family Video..”

A short two hours later, Eddie finds himself among a throng of people inside Melvald’s. He has to fight his way forward at first, but the crowd thins out as he gets closer to the registers.

Damn, he’s not even that far into the store and he feels like he’s ran a mile.

“Ms. Byers!”

“Oh! Hello Eddie, what brings you here?” “Steve called and asked if I could drop off his lunch to him. Do you know where he is? I didn’t even know he was working here.”

Joyce just grins at him. It’s weirdly mischievous. “Only temporarily, he’s near the back of the store. Just head back there and I’m sure you’ll find him.”

“Uh..thanks. See ya later Ms. B.”

He wanders toward the back of the store through the aisles, but stops up short when a fake white picket fence blocks his path.

The whole back corner of the store has been covered in fake felt snow, a couple of those fake plastic trees like Steve’s (though these are a normal size), a candy-striped ‘North Pole’, and dozens of paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling between what seems like hundreds of string lights.

And there, sitting in the middle of it on a throne that looks suspiciously like the one he used to use during Hellfire, is Steve. Dressed in a Santa suit. With long white beard, big ol’ belt and buckle, shiny black boots..

“Psst!”

He’s got something stuffed into his Santa jacket to give him the right shape, and even some small half-moon glasses, but those sparkling eyes, the freckles, that one swoop of brown hair stubbornly sticking out from under the fuzzy brim of his hat, that’s all Steve.

��Eddie!”

Santa Steve is fully enraptured by whatever story the kid on his knee is telling him, their hands waving every which way but somehow missing smacking Santa right in the face. Steve just continues to nod along, then gives them a hearty “Ho Ho Ho!” when they try to squeeze their tiny arms around his fake belly.

“Eddie!!”

He glances over at the sound of his name, and sees Robin waving frantically at him from her spot at old school music stand-turned-podium. She’s got on some sort of outfit that honestly looks like it was supposed to be a jester costume, where’d she even get that from?

His feet start toward her, but his eyes fall back on Steve Claus, now posing for a picture with the kid who’s smiling so wide it looks like his face will split in half.

Managing to take his eyes off Steve for a moment, he sees Jonathan behind the camera, and that Argyle kid is crouched in front of Robin, talking to the next kid in line to see Santa. All three of them are wearing matching jester costumes.

Eddie steps up to her podium after Argyle and the new kid pass in front of him to see Steve, “Family Video not paying enough, Birdie?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, the extra cash doesn’t hurt. Joyce asked us to help out.”

He nods at her, and finds his eyes drifting back to Santa Steve.

This kid is much more shy than the last one, tilting her head down and taking short glances up at Steve’s face.

Steve is saying something to her, a low comforting sound that Eddie can only make out the tone of. His one hand covers the entirety of her upper back, and his thumb is moving up and down to try and soothe her nerves. His head is ducked down to be more level with her, looking at her over those half-moon glasses.

Suddenly, the girl’s head snaps up and Steve leans back a bit. “Yeah?” he hears him say.

The girl grins, nodding her head like crazy, then she too is squeezing Steve into a hug. It’s so unfairly endearing, he can actually feel his heart swelling in his chest.

Robin speaks up then, “So..?”

“So?” he repeats dumbly.

“So wha’d’ya think, Munson?” 

“Does he need a Mr. Claus?”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“Uh, wait, I mean Mrs.–Do you have— is someone going to—”

Eddie chances a look over at her…she’s wearing a smug, shit-eating grin. She leans toward him conspiratorially and mumbles out “I wouldn’t mind a Mrs. Claus myself.”

She leans back, still looking smug, but there’s a note of panic in her eyes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So would he.” he mumbles out himself, jerking his chin towards Steve.

Robin only shrugs “You never know.”

“You never—what do you know, Buckley?” he asks, stepping closer and pointing an accusing finger into her still smug face.

“I know that there’s some mistletoe hanging above the breakroom door.”

He’s confused for just a moment, then understanding floods through him, “You little—”

A short whistle interrupts his incoming tirade, and Eddie can see Steve Claus moving out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry folks, it’s time for Santa’s Cookie break!” Robin calls out over the long line of people. “He’ll be back in 30 minutes though, don’t you worry!” the smile falls off her face as soon as she turns her back to them.

Eddie follows her, Jonathan, and Argyle toward the back rooms, “I’m gonna take a nap.” She says, “Tell Santa to grab me before he goes back.” She waves toward a door as she passes it and from the sprig of greenery hanging above it, this must be the breakroom. 

Robin takes a right down a turn in the hall, and Jon and Argyle push out the back door of the building.

He expects more of the same when he opens the door to the breakroom, for Steve to huff and grouse about the kids or the parents or something, but when he does, Steve is grinning ear to ear as he combs through his (now removed) fake beard.

“Hey Santa Stevie.”

“Eds!”

“I’ve got your lunch.” he holds up the brown paper bag for Steve to see. Steve nods, and lays the beard out on an empty chair, taking off his hat and glasses too and setting them both on top before stepping forward to grab the bag. “And you have hat hair.” Eddie laughs.

Steve’s free hand jumps to his head and scruffs up the long hairs, making them stick up every which way instead of just being plastered down on his forehead.

“Better?”

“Sure, big guy.” Eddie pokes Steve’s fake belly.

Steve chuckles, then heads to a table in the corner where he dumps out his lunch bag.

“So what’d Past Steve pack for Future Steve?” Eddie asks, plopping down in a chair kitty-corner from Steve’s. “Bologna and mustard sandwich, Doritos, and half of a leftover Hellfire cookie.”

“And a Coke,” Eddie says, taking a can out of his jacket pocket, “I grabbed one for you from your fridge.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles warmly at him. “You want some?”

“No way dude, you gotta get your energy back after dealing with all those kids, right?” Eddie says, waving him off. 

“Eh, some of them are little assholes, but most of them are really well behaved.” he’s ripping his sandwich in half, “Gotta impress Santa, right?”

He offers him one half, and Eddie takes it.

“It’s really not a bad gig, though the beard is itchy as hell…”

Steve starts talking about some of the kids who have come by in the last couple days of them doing this, having started on that past Monday, the 1st.

There were the kids asking for baseball bats, Lincoln Logs, Malibu Barbie, Rockstar Barbie (“Barbie’s a rockstar now?”, “Barbie can be anything, I guess.”), all the usual things.

Then there were kids that asked for actual Santa stuff, “I don’t want my mom and dad to get a divorce.”, “I wish I had some friends.”, “I want my grandpa to get better.”

“Makes me wish I actually was Santa, y’know? Then maybe I could actually help them.”

Eddie’s heart is definitely getting way too fuckin’ big for his chest.

He puts his hand on Steve’s forearm where it’s resting on the table between them. “You are a good man, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s face flushes nearly as red as his suit. “Thanks, Eddie.” he glances above Eddie’s head then, “I better go wake up Robin, if she naps too long on top of the potatoes, she gets cranky.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, better get on that.”

Steve stands up and tugs on his hat, not bothering to put on the beard and glasses yet. The fuzzy white band smushes a lock of his hair onto his forehead. 

“Hold on,” Eddie stands as well, reaching forward to tuck the hair under the bottom of Steve’s hat. “Now you’ll be ready to see your adoring public.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, walking with him toward the door.

And of course, Eddie forgot all about the damn mistletoe until Steve’s arm stops him in the doorway.

‘Jesus H. Christ…’

He glances over at Steve, then up at the offending plant.. 

Eddie looks back down, out toward the rest of the store where they’d be clearly visible in the doorway.

“I guess you owe me one, huh big boy?” Eddie chuckles, ‘Stupid plant, stupid Robin, stupid Ed–’

His thoughts are cut off when Steve tugs him back into the breakroom, moves him against the wall, and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. The opposite to the kiss he’d given Steve three weeks ago.

Steve leans back, a smirk on his lips and a pink flush on his face. “Now we’re even.” he winks, then turns out the door to wake up Robin.

i may have actually kicked my feet and giggled about this one lmao

also, rockstar barbie mentioned here is from the 1986 Barbie and The Rockers set

also, also, i'm getting rid of the 'pre' before the steddie up top, you all know what's happening and where this is going lol - it's steddie.

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

[thefreakandthehair]

@steddiemas day 1: deck the halls | wc: 1.2k | rated: m

Robin Buckley loves Christmas.

Like, really loves Christmas. If she could convince Steve to put the tree up in their little shitbox apartment the day after Halloween, she would. In fact, she'd tried last year but Steve reminded her that a live tree would be a needleless fire hazard by Christmas Day and she refuses to entertain the idea of a fake tree.

Absolutely not. Live tree or bust.

And this is how Steve ends up at the Christmas Tree Farm the day after Thanksgiving, dragged around with a fond if not tired smile as she checks tree after tree, pulling their branches, checking their strength and health.

"It has to be a Blue Spruce to hold those heavy ornaments from my parents, and none of these are Blue Spruces!" She bemoans, whipping her head around to glare at Steve. "Are you even helping?"

He rolls his eyes and sips the hot chocolate that warms him from the inside. "I'm here as moral support and to cut the thing down when you find it." Steve wiggles the little saw he'd been handed and nods her on.

Robin scoffs and marches back towards him. "I think there are some Blue Spruces in the lot towards the back."

Without a question, he turns on his heel and follows her. This isn't their first Christmas Tree Hunt so he knows the drill. No matter how much he actually hates Blue Spruces because the needles are sharp and stick him when they hang the lights, he'll never say a word. Not when it makes his best friend this happy.

Eventually, they make the trek through muddy grass and Robin does, in fact, find a Blue Spruce that makes her eyes light up in the hidden away lot.

"This is it," she beams. "This is the one."

"Perfect, here, hold this--" Steve hands her his mug and starts to lean down, only for the tree to start shaking.

A man in ripped jeans and Reeboks lies beneath the tree, his own saw just beginning to make its mark in the stump of the spiky, healthy Spruce.

"Hey! Hey, what are you doing? This is our tree." Robin says, reaching through branches to hold it steady. "We were just about to cut it down, back off."

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It's not that he won't defend Robin's honor and get into a fight in a Christmas Tree Farm for her, he'd just really rather not.

The mystery man pokes his head out from under the tree with furrowed brows and two needles sticking out from the top of his head, dirt on his denim jacket that protects what looks like a red and black flannel. Steve's definitely been watching way too many Hallmark movies with Robin lately because holy shit, he's cute.

"Listen, my best friend wants this tree, and I don't even wanna be under here but if she doesn't get this Blue Whatever-The-Fuck, someone's halls are getting decked and it'll probably be mine. So, sorry." He shrugs and returns to his place under the tree. 

Robin looks at Steve, bewildered and frazzled simultaneously. Do something, she mouths. 

Like what? He mouths back, scrunching his face and contorting his mouth. 

She widens her eyes and jerks her head to the side, desperate. 

He should’ve known Robin would be responsible for his demise. 

“C’mon, man, we’ve been here for two hours looking for a tree.” Steve gets no response, just a few grunts that shouldn’t go straight to his crotch but what can he say? It’s been awhile.

He steps forward and lies down beneath the tree with the Tree Thief. “Is she here with you? Your best friend who seems as fucking rabid as mine is here about these trees?” 

Steve watches as the man focuses on the tree stump, rhythmic back and forth motions of the saw moving his torso along the ground with his tongue poking out between his lips. “Maybe I can talk to her? Or send Robin? She’s… convincing?” 

“Chrissy wants this one, dude. Hate to break it to you.” 

“Ah, okay. Robin and Chrissy. Well, I’m Steve, and you’re…?” 

The sawing stops as he catches his breath. “Eddie. I’m Eddie. And unless you’re gonna help under here, you might wanna move. I don’t wanna drop this on you.” 

Steve pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and takes a chance. Reaching out, he places one hand on top of Eddie’s. “Can I make you a deal?” 

Eddie startles, eyes flickering back and forth from the space where their hands touch on the rough bark of the tree up to Steve’s gaze. 

“Depends on the deal, I suppose.” Maybe Steve imagines the flush to his cheeks and the playful grin that blossoms across his lips. All he knows about Eddie is that his best friend’s name is Chrissy and that he has the most beautiful brown eyes Steve’s maybe ever seen. 

Not maybe. Definitely. 

“Uh,” he shakes his head, trying to pull himself out of whatever Christmas romcom he thinks he’s living in. “What if we help you and Chrissy find another tree and I help you cut it down? I’ll even carry it to the car for you.” 

“What are you, some sort of lumberjack?”

“Nope,” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, joking as he leans closer, like an idiot. “Just desperate not to get my halls decked.” It earns him a genuine smile and surprised laugh punched from Eddie’s lungs. 

“Alright,” he taps the saw on the trunk and smirks over at Steve, mere inches apart beneath a Christmas tree. Close enough for the faint scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and Old Spice cologne to permeate the strength of the resinous spruce. “You help us find another tree, lug it to the car, and then meet me for coffee after? Seems like the least you can do, all things considered.” 

Trading numbers with the guy he met while bargaining for Robin’s dream Christmas tree isn’t the weirdest moment of his life, but it’s certainly on the shortlist. As is plucking rogue needles out of his hair when they come up from beneath the tree.

He ends up lugging two Blue Spruces to the parking lot an hour later in two trips— Robin chatting with Chrissy in front of them and Eddie at his side, gravitating closer and closer until their arms nearly touch. 

“You know, you didn’t actually have to do this,” Eddie says, moving away from Steve and to the other side of Chrissy's sedan to help tie the tree to the roof. “You’re not like, actually obligated or whatever.” 

Steve finishes tying his end of the knot and looks across at Eddie, finding him standing with hopeful eyes and a piece of hair drawn in front of his face. 

“Oh, I know.” He smiles and shrugs. “But I want to. Especially the coffee-with-you-after part.” 

“Not until we get this thing up and decked, Munson!” Chrissy pops up next to Eddie at the same time Robin appears next to Steve, both of them practically bouncing on their heels and grinning ear to ear. 

Robin nudges Steve in the side and he looks down to see her phone held out, Chrissy’s number typed into her contacts with a tiny pink heart to it. He gives her a subtle, excited thumbs up from below Eddie and Chrissy’s view beneath the car. 

Eddie slings an arm across Chrissy’s shoulders and ruffles her hair before she fixes her ponytail, indignant. 

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “I’ll uh, I’ll text you?” 

Eddie nods and turns himself and Chrissy towards the front of the car. As he gets in the passenger seat, he looks back at Steve with a mischievous wink most likely emboldened by Steve’s brash flirtation. 

“The sooner, the better.”

[finntheehumaneater]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Angsty scentance prompt: 5. I don’t want to fight with you. Not tonight. (@steddiemas)

“I just don’t see why this has to be a big deal!” Eddie was so close to yelling, but he was trying to keep his tone under control. He should have been back home at his apartment with Wayne an hour ago, but this little argument was making him late, and he was fucking pissed about it. 

Steve crossed his arms, his eyes watering slightly, and Eddie desperately wanted this argument to be over, but Steve just couldn’t fucking see reason. “They’re my family, Eddie, I can’t just not go.”

“Of course you can fucking not go!” Eddie snapped, glaring at Steve. “Stevie—you don’t owe them anything! Every time you see them, you come home and you are miserable! And maybe you don’t notice, but that affects everyone, not just you.” He rubbed his hands down his face and tried to soften his tone. “I just don’t understand why you insist on putting yourself through this every time.” 

Steve’s breath was shaking and he was gripping at his arms so hard that Eddie was sure he was going to bruise himself. “They’re my family, Eddie.”

“So am I!” Eddie stepped closer to Steve, glaring at him, and he hated the way that Steve flinched slightly when he raised his voice again, but he just kept going. “And I’m a hell of a lot nicer to you than they are!”

Steve looked away, a few tears falling down his face. “I…I—“ he took a deep breath and looked back at Eddie, in what Eddie supposed was supposed to be a glare, but it looked more desperate. “I don’t want to fight with you. Not—not tonight.”

“Then when the fuck are we supposed to talk about this, Steve?” Eddie kept pushing at him—and he knew Steve was close to sobbing, and he felt horrible that he had made Steve cry like this, but he didn’t want to have to Steve that fucking miserable ever again—and god, this argument had been a long time coming. Three years, even. “Because it seems to me like this is a great time to have it!”

Steve did sob. And it was quiet, and it was pathetic, and Eddie immediately softened again, reaching over to move Steve’s hands off of his arms before he hurt himself. “Hey, hey…it’s okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Stevie.” 

He knew Steve wasn’t listening to him—was in his own little world of hurt, not—but he kept talking anyway. “I just—it could be fun, you know? Just you, me, and Wayne for the holidays. No long drives, no tense conversations, no awkward dinners…just us, yeah?”

Steve isn’t looking at him. His eyes are unfocused and he’s looking off somewhere to the side, but he’s not really looking. His hair is flopping over in a way that Eddie knows bothers him, and his lip is shaking, and he’s still crying. Fuck, Eddie feels horrible. 

“Stevie?” Eddie says quietly, gently rubbing at Steve’s arm to try and get his attention without being forceful. “Baby?”

Steve does turn back to look at him eventually—and it takes a moment for his eyes to focus on Eddie’s face again—but when he does, he just sobs. One that shakes through his whole body, and he crumples into Eddie’s arms. “I’m not staying. I have to go! My parents will hate me if I—if I don’t go.”

Eddie sighed and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist to help him stay upright, his cheek pressed against the top of Steve’s head. “Do you really care what they think, or do you just feel like you should? Because honestly, this is the one time that I’ve seen you act like this over them.” And Eddie didn’t say that it was only because he had been pushing and pushing until Steve broke. But that was partly it.

“I have to go,” Steve repeats quietly through another sob, and he slips down to the floor, so Eddie slides down with him.

It takes Eddie a minute to speak again, and because he knows Steve’s mind is set in this, he sighs dramatically and drops his head onto Steve’s shoulder, muttering, “Are you going to be all grouchy with me when you get home, then?”

Steve’s crying pauses for a moment, and Eddie sees his eyebrows furrow, but it’s hard to tell if he’s thinking or pissed off because everything is kind of sideways from his viewpoint. “I’m not—I don’t get grouchy.”

“Yes, you do.” Eddie says, sitting up and taking Steve’s hand. You wrap yourself up in my blanket—my blanket, Steve—and you wander around my apartment and do this all the time—,” Eddie sighed again, but it sounded more like a groan, and maybe it was more dramatic than what Steve actually did, but it got Steve to smile slightly. “And you just keep looking all sad and pathetic until I let you stay the night and we watch a movie. And that goes on for days. Seriously, it always feels like you're slowly trying to move in with me or something.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but Eddie pressed a hand to his lips, patting his shoulder. “Nope. That conversation can wait for after the holidays when we’re less busy and I have more time to help you move your things over.”

Honestly—they didn’t even really need to have that conversation, because if either of them asked, the other one would automatically say yes. And realistically, it would be Eddie and Wayne moving in with Steve, because his house was bigger. But Eddie didn’t want to admit that. 

“I don’t do that.” Steve said again. He was repeating things a lot recently, and he had been less talkative than normal—less bitchy with the kids. Which meant that he was anxious, and Eddie knew exactly what he was anxious about, but he didn’t say anything. 

“I’ll call Wayne right now and ask him.” 

“Please don’t, he’s probably asleep.”

He probably wasn’t. He was probably up waiting for Eddie and wondering what was taking so long—because tomorrow was Christmas Eve and they had a ton of shit to do. “Just think about it, okay, sweetheart? Please?”

Steve nodded, and Eddie kissed his forehead before getting up to go grab his things. They said goodbye, and Eddie drove home in the dark.

— —

Eddie didn’t see Steve the next day. He tried calling but got no answer, and was just about to go over there unannounced (even though he knew that Steve hated that) when Wayne stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, his other hand taking the shoes out of Eddie’s. “That Buckley girl stopped by to tell you that he went to his parents. You were asleep.”

Eddie froze. Steve had left a day early. Probably so that he didn’t have to see him again after their fight. He thought they had made up, though. Sure—neither of them said they were sorry for the yelling and the mean-looks—but they rarely ever did. Sorry kind of lost its meaning over time, and it did nothing to say it when the other wouldn’t believe that you actually meant it. ‘Sorry’ was Steve’s way of getting out of something quickly, and he hated when it was said back to him, because he had told Eddie that it made him feel bad. That he had made the other person feel bad enough to apologize. 

Maybe Steve had actually wanted him to apologize? Why hadn’t he said anything? Was Eddie supposed to just fucking know? 

“Oh,” Was all he said, his voice quiet.

“Sorry, son.” Wayne muttered, squeezing his shoulder, before walking over to put Eddie’s shoes back on the rack. “I’m sure you two’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He whispered, but he didn’t mean it.

——

Christmas Eve passed, and the next day was about the most pathetic Christmas Eddie had ever had. Most of their decorations were destroyed along with the trailer in the…earthquake, and since Eddie’s band was still mostly a failure (they would make it big, he swore. Just not now. Not for a good long while. The world needed more time to warm up to their awesomeness) they were still fucking poor. Which sucked. 

There weren’t a shit ton of decorations like normal, and the tree was small and kind of thin, but Wayne looked happy enough. And even without Steve here—and the fact that he was ignoring him and abandoning him for shitty family members—that made Eddie happy, too. 

They didn’t have a fireplace—and they didn’t have one in the trailer, either—but they hung out around the big space heater crammed into the corner of the living room all day because it was the only part of the house that was warm.

Later into the night, it started to snow, and Eddie was finally thinking that he was ready to put the whole Steve thing behind him and enjoy his fucking Christmas when the doorbell rang. 

Wayne got up and opened the door, and then closed it again, sitting back down. Eddie looked confused. “Who was it?”

“Steve.”

Eddie shot up at that, some ripped wrapping paper falling out of his lap and onto the ground. “Why didn’t you answer it?”

“If you’re mad at him, then so am I,” Wayne answered simply, going back to balling up the wrapping paper.

Eddie practically ran over to the door, taking a second to breathe before opening it. Steve was standing there, snow in his hair, scarf falling off of his shoulders, his breath forming in white clouds in front of him. He looked out of breath, his face flushed, his nose pink. It was fucking adorable.

“Hey,” Eddie said dumbly.

“Hi,” Steve said back.

There was a small present in his hand, and Eddie stepped aside to let Steve in. Steve put the present down and took off his snowy boots. Then the two of them just…stood there for a moment. Looking at each other. Until Steve huffed and muttered, “fuck it.” And threw his arms around Eddie, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I was wrong,” He choked out. “I hate it there, and as soon as I got in my car I missed you, and I hadn’t even started driving yet, but—I went up to New York City just to drop of the presents for my cousins, because they’re not assholes, but—but then it was snowing too much to drive back, and I couldn’t catch a flight, so I had to stay the night. I swear, the second the storm calmed down I got right back in the car—a-and I have been driving for twenty hours in the last two days, I—“

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, finally moved them from where they were laying limp at his sides. “It’s okay.” He whispered into Steve’s hair, lips pressed to the side of his head as he reached out with his foot to push the door closed. “It’s okay, I know.”

He hadn’t even realized that Steve was crying, but he was, his face pressed into Eddie’s shoulder to muffle his light sobs.

“I didn’t get you a present. That’s for Wayne.” He sniffled, standing up straighter and wiping his eyes. “I was going to but then I forgot, and—“

“It’s alright, don’t worry. You being here is enough.”

“Sap,” Steve muttered.

“Asshole,” Eddie shot back, nothing but fondness in his voice. “Now take your coat off, it’s wet from the snow.

——

hallo! This took me longer to write than I care to admit :)

ignore the cliche title I didn’t know what to write :)

@an-atlas-or-other I wrote another one :D

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Winter of 1975

Prompt Day 2: Winter Themed Sentence Starters | Word Count: 1200 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Mentions of Childhood Trauma, Innuendo | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Gift Giving, Softness, Steve POV

"Did I ever tell you about the winter of '75?" Eddie asks, curling up on the couch next to Steve, tucking his feet under him.

Steve shakes his head no, at least he doesn't think so. Or if he has, Eddie didn't word it like that.

"When you were ten?" Steve asks. 

Eddie nods, "When I was ten. My mom had died, you know, earlier that year. And my dad, well, you know."

Steve nods. He knows. He stretches his arm out, and lets Eddie curl into him.

"Well, Uncle Wayne was bound and determined to make it a good Christmas. It wasn't possible, not really, but he was gonna try his best."

Steve smiles, that sounds like Wayne. If there's anything Steve knows, it's that Wayne Munson loves Eddie. 

"Well, he took me sledding. I broke my arm. He bought a real tree. I was allergic to pine. We made hot cocoa on the stove, and I dropped it, nearly scalding my feet. Just, you know, everything that could go wrong, did. It's the Munson way," Eddie says, with a laugh. 

Steve kisses him on the head, and tries to remember what the Christmas of 1975 looked like for him. He imagines he got all the toys he wanted, and his parents hosted parties in their house that he wasn't invited to attend. Sitting on the second floor, little hands gripping the slats of the railing, just hoping to get a glimpse of what was going on, down below. Hoping to see his parents, for just a few minutes. The usual.

Those nights were always the worst. As soon as he got home from school, they'd feed him an early dinner and send him straight up to bed. And then the activity started downstairs, without him. He wonders now, as an adult, why they didn't just invite some kids? They could have still been corralled upstairs, away from the party, but he wouldn't have been all alone. Even if it was just Tommy H. That would have gone a long way to making them tolerable.

Eddie continues talking, "But Uncle Wayne kept trying. He bought me a Pet Rock," Eddie says, with a laugh. "I begged for it in the store, and it cost four dollars. He bought it and handed it over, and I opened the box. And it was a rock."

Steve laughs, he had one, too. Everybody did, he's pretty sure.

"Well, the name was pretty clear about what it was," Steve says.

"I know. I just wanted it to be something else, I guess. Something a little more lively. It was just a rock. Whoever invented that was a genius. Think of all the money they made. For rocks."

Steve smiles at him.

"But, Uncle Wayne just bought me some paints, and brushes, and told me to make it whatever I wanted it to be then."

Eddie smiles, "So I did. I gave it eyes, and some hair, and it looked a little goofy. But it had some personality."

"Like you," Steve says, hugging Eddie closer. 

Eddie just rolls his eyes, "Anyway. I loved it after that. But, I still had paint, so Uncle Wayne got me a sketchbook. And I started drawing, and then painting what I'd drawn. Like my own coloring book, but filled with everything I liked, and nothing for little babies," Eddie says, laughing. "The fridge was full of weird shit that was coming out of my brain."

Steve nods. Weird shit is still coming out of Eddie's mind, and he loves it all. Every last thing. He might not understand it all, but he likes that Eddie is curious about the world around him. That he has opinions. Strong opinions, sometimes, sure. Even wrong opinions in Steve's mind. But opinions. Eddie wants to talk about the things that run through his mind, and Steve wants him to, always willing to listen.

"Anyway. I learned to draw. To paint. To love art, because of that Pet Rock. I designed all my own tattoos. I did the Hellfire logo. It gave me an outlet I didn't know I needed or wanted."

Steve kisses his bare shoulder, hoping he'll continue. He loves to hear him talk. 

"Well, all that said," Eddie says, pulling a wrapped box out from under the coffee table, and handing it to Steve. 

It's not Christmas, not yet.

"It's not Christmas yet," Steve argues.

"It's not a Christmas present," Eddie says.

"The wrapping paper says otherwise," Steve teases, and Eddie laughs, pinching his side. It is wrapped in red, with a heavy fabric bow that there's no way Eddie did.

"Who wrapped this?" Steve follows up, needing to know. Because it damn well wasn't Eddie.

"Excuse you? You don't think I could wrap this?" Eddie asks, acting very affronted by this accusation.

Steve just raises one eyebrow.

"Erica did," Eddie mutters, "just open it."

So, Steve opens it, carefully. And when he pulls back the tissue paper, it's a painting of the two of them. From a million years ago. Walking through the forest. But it's not dark, and red, like it really was that night. Here, it's lush and green, with the sun shining overhead, casting gorgeous shadows all through the trees. 

It's stunning. 

Steve meets Eddie's eyes, "It's beautiful."

"Well, it's only beautiful because you are," Eddie says, and Steve blushes. Just a little. Even after all these years.

"When did you have time to do this?" Steve asks, because he definitely hasn't seen Eddie working on a canvas lately. He'd have noticed that. The mess alone. The mugs of dirty, paint stained water. The countertop lined with drying brushes.

He's seen no evidence of any of that. 

Eddie smiles, "I did it at Wayne's. During our Sunday morning breakfasts. We talked while I painted. And yes, I cleaned up my own messes," Eddie says, dryly.

Steve just smiles at him.

"It's really good, Eddie. Really, really good. You could do this, if you wanted to. For a living."

Eddie just laughs, "We definitely don't have the luxury of me painting with the hopes that I'll sell some of them. And that's okay. Maybe someday," Eddie says.

Steve knows he's right. They aren't exactly rolling in money, but maybe someday they'll be better off, and Eddie will be able to just stay home, doing something he loves. Wouldn't that be something?

"You know, I do have other ideas of things to paint…" Eddie trails off, and the glint in his eye means he's definitely up to no good.

"Oh lord, what?" Steve asks, suspicious of that look in his eye.

"How do you feel about posing nude for me?" Eddie asks, giving him the eyes.

Steve barks out a laugh. Sure. He'll pose nude for Eddie. It's not like he's shy or anything. Eddie has definitely seen it all before.

He only has one question.

"What are you gonna do with it once you're done?" Steve asks, raising his eyebrow, imploring for the truth.

Eddie just grins, that evil grin of his, and Steve shakes his head. Oh well. He definitely knew what he was getting into once he decided to spend his life with Eddie Munson. 

Notes: Pet Rocks were, in fact, all the rage for the Christmas of '75. A the guy who made them made, like, a million dollars. 🪨 💰

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my tag right here!

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Steve sighed as Eddie hovered over his shoulder. They were making cookies for the potluck Christmas that Joyce was holding at her house. Eddie had come over, apparently, to supervise. His breath was tickling his neck, and it was super annoying. Steve had apparently gotten really sensitive since the bats bit him, especially when he was around Eddie.

"If you're not going to help, then get out," Steve said jokingly.

"Like I said before, I am helping. I'm supervising," Eddie grinned.

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes as he put the cookies in the oven. He set the timer and turned around to say something to Eddie when a song came on the radio: Have Yourself a Merry Christmas by Frank Sinatra. Steve’s eyes lit up, and he grinned.

"I love this song," Steve said.

Eddie grinned as he pulled the other man into his arms.

"Well, then, let's dance then, big boy," Eddie said, and Steve gave him a weird look. "What you never slow danced with another man before?"

"No, have you?" Steve asked.

"No, but there's a first time for everything," Eddie said.

He grabbed Steve’s hand and placed it on his waist while holding his other hand in his. Eddie pulled him closer, wrapping his free arm around Steve’s neck, and pressed his cheek against Steve’s cheek. He began to move them slowly.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Make the Yuletide gay

Next year, all our troubles will be miles away.

Steve was about to open his mouth to say something about the Yuletide gay part when he realized this was gay. This fuzzy feeling in his gut as he danced with Eddie, it wasn't exactly straight. He could easily freak out, but he didn't want to pull away because it was nice. He thought about all the times he felt weird whenever Eddie got close to him and realized now it wasn't because he wanted Eddie to leave. It was because he wanted him as close as possible.

Through the years we all will be together

If the fates allow

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

Steve wasn't the only one having a crisis. Eddie was currently panicking inside as he enjoyed Steve’s closeness a little too much. It was supposed to be a joke. Steve was supposed to freak out and pull away, although he should have known he wouldn't have done that with Robin and everything. The truth was, he had been hoping he would stay in his arms for many reasons that Eddie didn't expect. Maybe that was why he had been stepping in his space so often, not to annoy him, but he hoped that Steve would step forward too. Eddie nuzzled his cheek against Steve’s, smiling when he heard him sigh in contentment. God, shouldn't he be freaking out more about this?

Here we are, as in the olden days

Happy golden days of yore

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Gather near to us once more

Through the years, we all will be together

If the fates allow

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough, oh

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now, ooh

Once the song ended, Steve and Eddie pulled back slightly, still entangled in each other's arms. Their faces were still so close that they could feel their breath on their skin. Their noses brushed up together as Steve and Eddie gazed into each other's eyes. Eddie's hands slid from Steve’s hips, moving up his arms, and cupped his neck. He could feel Steve’s heartbeat against his palm, and he could tell it was racing. Eddie looked at him questioningly, and Steve nodded, licking his lips. Eddie moved forward, and Steve met him in the middle, their lips coming together. It was curious at first and very slow until the jolt of electricity shot through them both, causing them to deepen the kiss. Eddie curled his fingers into Steve’s hair and moaned against his lips as Steve squeezed his hips. They broke the kiss and leaned their foreheads together.

"I think I like you," Eddie blurted out.

"I think I like you too," Steve laughed.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas, Stevie."

"Merry Christmas, Eddie."

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now, ooh. . .

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 2: Winter Sentence Starters (Sentence Starter Saturdays)

"Holy shit!" Eddie shrieks, his voice regrettably echoing around the small quarters of Family Video's storage room, "Your hands are freezing!"

He envelopes Steve's hands in his own, brings them to his mouth and starts blowing. Steve grimaces and attempts to yank his hands away, but Eddie only tightens his grasp.

"Don't you have any mittens!" he continues, frantic as they now tug back and forward.

"No way," Steve scoffs, "I'm not walking around with an ugly pair of mittens pinned to my jacket."

He cocks his chin and his eyes flit down to the set of navy-blue mittens joined by a length of matching yarn and attached to Eddie's worn parka jacket via two safety pins.

"Excuse me!" he defends, letting go as he brings his hands to his chest to shield his mittens from further insult.

Steve giggles, "You look like a kid going off to kindergarten."

Eddie holds up a warning finger and feels his jaw clench, "My mittens are pinned to my winter jacket so I know where they are at the beginning of winter when I need my winter coat and mittens! Then, when I enter a premises that is supposed to be warm – to seek out my boyfriend whose hands should be warm – I pin them straight back on my jacket for safekeeping. It makes perfect sense!"

"So this was Wayne's idea because you kept losing them?" Steve asks, raising a brow and smirking.

"... Yeah," Eddie admits, looking down at his mittens.

The embarrassment is fleeting (this is practical for god sake!) and Eddie moves to unpin them.

"Eddie, I'm not taking your mittens!"

"Take my mittens!"

"How am I supposed to work in them?"

"You can stack away returns in a pair of mittens," Eddie offers, twirling the mittens by their joined string.

"And how am I going to type or use the phone?"

Eddie pauses and bites the inside of his cheek.

Damn it, he always has a checkmate defence.

"Turn the AC up!" he says with a click of his fingers.

"Can't," Steve grumbles, folding his arms and leaning against the built-in shelf that was supposed to support their regularly scheduled make-out session, "The AC is broken."

"What!" Eddie looks around, waving his hand about, "Where's your customer complaint form? Suggestion box? Something like that?"

"Eddie, you are not filing a complaint to Keith."

"I sure am!" he nods, determined, "Complaint or my mittens. Your choice, babydoll."

[steddie-island]

Maybe it's not so obvious

@steddiemas day 16 - Angst themed sentence starters | WC: 996 | Rating: M (for language) | CW for light angst See full list of tags on ao3

“Just leave already. You obviously don’t want to be here.” 

Steve looked like he’d been kicked, and Eddie regretted his words immediately. Still, he had to put how he felt out there. He had to let Steve know that he was doing a terrible goddamn job of concealing the fact that he was miserable here. “Stop looking at me like that, like I just grew a second head. It’s true, and you know it.” 

“No it isn’t.” Steve was still frowning, and Eddie had the urge to reach out and smooth a thumb over his brow. He was going to get wrinkles if he kept doing that– not that Eddie had a problem with that, but the hundreds of dollars of skincare shit in Steve’s bathroom probably didn’t appreciate him making the problem worse. Eddie shifted where he stood and carefully made his way past the boxes of Christmas decorations scattered around the living room. The crutches made it easier for him to get around, but he’d proven a few times now that he could still fall while he was using them. “Just– stop lying, Steve. I’ve seen the way you’ve been acting, man. You– you’ve barely touched me, you won’t look at me. Just– stop pretending, all right? Do us both a favor and– go.” He fell onto the couch with a grunt, spent several long moments getting comfortable before he finally looked up at Steve.

Steve, whose eyes were wide and wet. “Eddie, you don’t– you don’t really think I don’t want to be here, do you?” he asked quietly.

“I’m pretty goddamn sure I just made it obvious that I know you don’t want to be,” he said. His voice was soft, despite the heat he meant to be behind his words. “You don’t want to be here, and maybe– maybe I don’t want you here, either.” Lie. That was a lie. Eddie wanted Steve here so bad that it made him ache, which made Steve’s wanting to be gone so bad hurt that much more. 

“You don’t… want me here?” Steve whispered. It was different if Eddie thought he didn’t want to be here, but if Eddie didn’t want him here… 

Eddie couldn’t answer, though, was suddenly very interested in the hole in the knee of his jeans. He’d barely gotten the lie out once, if Steve poked and prodded it was all going to come spilling out. 

“Eddie.” Steve took a second to move two boxes of decorations out of the way so Eddie could get around better later– always so goddamn thoughtful, even when he was being yelled at. “Eddie. Do… do you really not want me here?”

Eddie made a soft sound but didn’t look away from his knee. Why would Steve want to be here? Why would Steve choose to be in their shitty government bought trailer– which was less shitty than the trailer they’d lived in before, to be sure, but it was still a shitty trailer. Why would he want to be with Eddie when he had that big beautiful house, that he was sure was just dripping with decorations put up by some overpriced professional who carried a fucking chihuahua in her purse, even here in fucking Hawkins. His parents might not be there, but he could have Robin there, and the kids. Steve had no fucking reason to want to be here. With him. 

“Eddie.” Steve’s voice was small, quiet, and when Eddie looked over at him and saw the hurt on his face, he wanted to kick his own ass. 

“C’mon, Steve. I mean– why would you want to be here?” he asked, voicing some of his feelings finally. “I’ve seen you. The last few days you’ve walked around looking like you want to puke. I touch you, you pull away like you can catch something from me. If you’re tired of me–” He was cut off with a kiss, with Steve simultaneously pulling him in and surging forward himself, until their lips met in a kiss that was messy and clumsy. 

It certainly did the job, though, and when they broke apart Eddie’s eyes were wide. 

“I didn’t realize– I wasn’t trying to tell you that I don’t want to be here.” Steve swallowed hard. “I’ve been– trying not to let it out that I’m– these past few months, since you got out of the hospital… they’ve meant the world to me. Getting to know you, and your uncle… Fuck, Eddie. How could I want to be anywhere but here with you?” He swallowed. “I’ve been trying not to be a creep. I mean– I’ve helped you in the bath. What kind of pervert does that make me? And then the other day– you made a joke about mistletoe and I let myself hope for just a moment that maybe you could want me, too, but if you don’t–”

It was Steve’s turn to get cut off as Eddie gripped the lapels of his stupid fucking polo and pulled him in close. This kiss was clumsy, too, but as Steve wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist and slipped closer, as Eddie leaned back into the corner of the couch and pulled Steve into his lap, it melted into something better, something warm and soft and so fucking tender. 

“I want you here,” Eddie whispered. “I’ve wanted you here the whole time, Stevie baby.”

“And I want to be here,” Steve murmured back. He lifted a hand to comb through Eddie’s hair, like he’d done a dozen times before, only this time he wasn’t just trying to help Eddie keep it untangled after a bath. “I’ve wanted to be here the whole time. Since before you woke up.” 

“I’m a fucking idiot.” Eddie shook his head and pulled Steve closer, until the other boy was practically lying on top of him. “Forgive me?” Steve bumped their noses together. “Only if you kiss me again.”

Eddie grinned, and was more than happy to comply. 

[stevesbipanic]

This year I'm doing @steddiemas!

Dec 1 Prompt: Deck the Halls

Steve had just gotten cozy on the couch, a nice cup of cocoa warming up his hands, a Christmas movie beginning to play on the tv, when Eddie came crashing into the trailer.

"That bitch has her lights up already!"

"Mrs Samson?"

"Uh huh!"

"That bitch. Get the box."

Ten minutes later, the movie and cocoa abandoned, the two boys were outside in the cold and dark with a flashlight.

"Ok game plan I put up the ones for the roof and you start setting up those Christmas horror displays you found."

"Stevie, Robin will literally kill me if I let you go up on the roof, what if you fall!"

"I'd rather get another concussion than that recipe stealing skank outdo us for lights again this year."

Eddie relents but it doesn't stop him from carefully watching his boyfriend while also setting up the skeleton Santa and his elves out the front.

Before long their trailer was lit up in twinkling lights, definitely more than last year.

"We're going to have to pick up extra shifts to cover electricity this month."

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve's waist and kissed his cheek.

"Yeah, maybe I should sell some 'special cookies' this year too."

"I'll let Hopper arrest you, you know Dustin almost ate one last year."

Their words trailed off as they finished admiring their handiwork and went inside. Mrs Samson was livid the next morning, and it made Steve's cocoa taste even better.

Ao3

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 14 Prompt: Airport and/or Bar

Tags: Established Relationship, Airport Pick Ups, Supportive Wayne Munson, Idiots In Love

wc: 1796 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Long distance isn’t the relationship Steve and Eddie had dreamed they had when they finally confessed their love together in the Spring of ’88, but they’ve been making it work for years now.

As far as Steve’s concerned they are experts at it now.

They talk every night. Steve from his bedroom in the apartment he shares with Robin in San Francisco, Eddie from his own bedroom in the house he lives in with Wayne two towns over from Hawkins.

Steve tells Eddie about his long days at the office, the responsibilities he’s been shouldered with now that he’s earned his father’s trust to run the West Coast branch of the organization by himself. A feat Steve didn’t even know he wanted until he finally sat down with his father years ago to learn what the man did.

Eddie listens tentatively and returns the favor with his own stories of the day. Life at the plant alongside Wayne isn’t his dream, but it's a steady job that pays the bills. Besides, he likes being near Wayne. Can’t imagine a world where he’s not a hop, skip, and a jump away from the old man who quite literally saved his life more than once.

It’s not like they wanted to create professional lives thousands of miles apart from each other, but it's the cards they’ve been dealt. Sure, they’d love to be under the same roof for more than a week at a time, but they make it work. The real truth is that they’re both too afraid to make the other sacrifice all they’ve built for the other. Resentment is a relationship killer and neither is ready to jeopardize the cozy relationship they’ve built.

So, they make do.

Steve visits often, a perk of being the boss of his branch. Occasionally, he writes them off as business trips and checks in on the Midwest branch while he’s in town. Other times he uses his sick days and vacation days to make the trip out to Indiana.

Every time he flies into the Indianapolis International Airport, Eddie is waiting for him at the end of the jet bridge. The first time, he was decked out in a suit a size too small. A chauffeur cap askew on his head and a handwritten sign with “S. Harrington” scrawled across it that he had leaned on a luggage cart like all the other private chauffeurs waiting for their clients. Steve couldn’t help but burst into laughter the moment he saw him, running to Eddie and giving him a hug that the rest of the passengers side-eyeing them — not because they were two men, but because it was one hell of a greeting for a paid chauffeur.

From that moment on, Eddie committed to the airport greeting bit. The next time Steve flew to Eddie, he was greeted with a giant sign that read “Congrats! You survived prison!” A few times after that, Eddie was standing there with a bouquet of blue balloons and a banner that said “It’s a Boy!” There was the time he pretended Steve was his cheating boyfriend and had a total meltdown at the gate only to leave with Steve hand-in-hand three minutes later. And he can’t forget about the time he roped Dustin and the rest of the kids into making the trip, the lot of them waiting for Steve at the gate with various signs claiming to be his long-lost children.

Aside from getting to spend time with Eddie, his airport arrivals were always the highlight of the trip. He knows Eddie gets a kick out of the theatrics, but there’s a part of him deep down that wishes he could be on the receiving end of the airport shenanigans at least once. Unfortunately, Steve has yet to repay the favor since he’s usually the one making the trip out to Indy.

All that’s about to change though, because after years of asking, he’s finally convinced Eddie and Wayne to take their holiday vacation and come spend Christmas with him and Robin in sunny California.

Which means one thing: It’s Steve's turn to create an epic airport arrival sign.

“How am I supposed to top any of these?” Steve asks, sifting through the hoard of airport signs he’s kept over the years. A beautiful tapestry of their chaotic relationship.

“I don’t think Eddie can be topped,” Robin says, searching through her own stack of neon poster boards.

“I mean…”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

Steve throws his hands up in defense, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter at bay. The last thing he needs is to upset Robin before they come up with a sign idea.

Sighing, Steve lets his head thunk against the mountain of signs. It’s no surprise Eddie is the more creative one of their relationship, but he feels bad he can’t come up with anything even remotely as good as the signs Eddie’s been creating for years.

“Look, Steve,” Robin says, patting his back. “You’re never going to outdo Eddie. He’s theatrical at his core. He lives for being a menace. Stop trying to channel him and channel yourself instead.”

“Is this your way of telling me you find me boring?” he asks, gazing up at her.

“No, dingus! I’m just saying, channel that Romeo side I know is in there,” she says, thrusting her finger into Steve’s chest. “Be sappy. Eddie’ll appreciate it.”

In the end, Steve takes Robin’s advice. He cuts a fluorescent green poster board into a wonky heart — one side longer than the other. Tries three separate times to get “Welcome Home” centered in the middle before he gives up and freehand it. And then, for extra flair, he uses a bottle and a half go glitter glue on the whole thing. They’re going to be finding specks of glitter for weeks, but he thinks it’ll be worth it.

According to the signs, Eddie and Wayne’s flight has already landed and is en route to the gate. Steve stands nervously by the sky gate exit. The sign is still folded in half, wrinkled at the edges from how much he’s fidgeting with it. He had no idea how nerve-wracking it is being on this side of things. It’s silly really. He knows Eddie is going to be happy to see him, sign or no sign, but he can’t help but be a little on edge.

Thankfully, the doors open and a flood of travelers start disembarking from the plane. Steve stands on his top-toes, scanning the tired faces in search of Eddie and Wayne. As the crowd thins out, Steve starts to worry. Maybe they changed their minds? Maybe they missed the flight. Maybe he’s at the wrong gate?

Shit, what if he’s at the wrong gate?

A glance up at the digital sign above the exit, confirms that Steve is in the right place. He breathes a sigh of relief before he goes back to scanning. They have to be coming out soon, he thinks, and starts to unfold the sign. He holds it low, clutched over his chest until he spots a familiar head of unruly curls.

Hoisting it over his head, he shouts, “Eds!”

Eddie’s head whips around at the sound of his voice, eyes shining when he spots him in the thinning crowd. Steve has all of five seconds to brace himself before Eddie launches himself into his arms, crushing the sign between their bodies.

It’s not uncommon for the two of them to hug when they reunite at the airport, but this feels different. Eddie’s arms are tighter around his neck and he’s pretty sure he can hear him sniffling, body slightly shaking in his grasp.

“Eds?” Steve whispers into the mess of curls. “You okay?”

Eddie nods, slowly peeling himself away from Steve. With a little bit of space between them, Steve watches as Eddie’s eyes glance between the smushed sign and Steve’s eyes. Back and forth, back and forth.

Shit, is it too much?

“Really?” Eddie sniffles, using the sleeve of his sweater to wipe away a tear. “You want this to be our home? Together?”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Steve certainly hadn’t planned for that. Sure, he’s secretly been hoping that the trip out here would get Eddie and to a lesser extent Wayne to realize how great the city is and finally bite the bullet and move out here. Start the mechanic shop they’ve been planing for years. But Steve knew better than to set expectations too high. He’d never ask Eddie to move for him, just like Eddie would never ask Steve to move back for him.

But now, seeing Eddie smiling, eyes glassy with tears. Well, shit, maybe he should have asked him.

“Wait, you want to move in with me?”

“Sweetheart. I’ve wanted to live with you since the moment we said I love you on the Henderson’s porch.”

It’s not news to Steve, per se. They’ve talked at length about what living together would be like; especially in those early days when their relationship was in that blissful honeymoon phase. Still, the words come as a shock to Steve who stumbles out of Eddie’s grasp for a moment.

Running a shaking hand through his hair, he locks eyes with Eddie. “Why the hell have we been doing long distance for a decade?” he laughs, yanking Eddie back into his arms.

“I thought you weren’t ready! I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Baby,” Steve breathes. He can’t believe this. Have they seriously been suffering in silence for years for nothing? Christ, they’re idiots. “Of course, I want to live with you! I just didn’t want to make you move.”

“Jesus Christ,” Wayne grumbles, shaking his head. He stumbles his way towards them, throwing a hand on both of their shoulders. “You two are idiots, you know that? Told ya both you needed to communicate what ya wanted!” He rolls his eyes, shoving them both. “Could’ve been livin’ in the sunshine instead of snowy Indiana for years now.”

“Hey, who said anything about you moving with us?” Eddie asks, tearing his eyes away from Steve to stare at his Uncle.

“Hate to break it to you, boy. But wherever you go, I go. S’the Munson rule.”

Steve can’t help but laugh as he pulls both of them in for a hug before ushering them through the bustling airport. They fetch their bags and make it safely into his car before they’re on the way. As he pulls away from the San Francisco Airport, Eddie immediately reaches for the car radio.

Before he has a chance to change the channel, the crooning voice of Perry Como starts singing “(There’s No Place Like) Home for the Holidays.”

[puppy-steve]

steddie | G | wc: 549 | cw: none

@steddiemas day 19: steddie as parents i would love to be on time for daily prompt challenges but work hours don't have me home until almost midnight 😭

permanent taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @sidekick-hero @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd

find more of emma here

"Daddy!"

Eddie leans against his SUV in the parent pick-up line, sunglasses perched on his nose and a ballcap covering his hair so he's not super recognizable. Steve is normally the one to pick Emma up from school, but Eddie's schedule is clear for the next two weeks and he's not about to turn down some one-on-one time with his baby.

Emma's backpack swings behind her as she runs, too big for her tiny six year old frame and its straps dangerously close to sliding off her shoulders. She's not as big as the other kids in her class and it makes Eddie worry when he's away on tour. The last thing he wants is his daughter being picked on because of her size while he isn't there to do anything about it.

Steve can definitely handle it on his own, but Eddie feels like he has to do something to make up for being gone as often as he is.

"Woah, slow your roll there, bug," Eddie chuckles as she barrels into his legs, catching her by the shoulders. "Where's the fire?"

Emma takes gulps of air as she tries to get her words out, pushing her red glasses up her tiny nose.

"We got—presents—post office—"

Eddie frowns and slides his sunglasses up onto his head, kneeling down in front of her. "Deep breaths, kiddo," he says gently. "In and out, c'mon. In—"

He takes an exaggerated inhale and Emma does the same, her brown eyes wide behind the thick rims of her glasses.

"And out, good girl." They both exhale at the same time and then inhale again, exhale. Repeat. Two more times until Emma is no longer gasping like a fish out of water.

"There we go," Eddie says, brushing his fingers through Emma's chestnut curls. "Where's your inhaler?"

He takes her backpack and unzips the front pocket where he and Steve showed her to always keep her inhaler should she ever need it.

He helps her take a couple of puffs, instructs her to hold it in for the amount of time she's supposed to and let it out slowly through her nose. She's gained a little more color to her cheeks now.

"Better?" Eddie asks after he's put the inhaler back in its place, his eyebrows knitted together in worry. He combs her hair back from her face as she nods, always a little shaky and scared after a flare-up.

She wraps her little arms around his neck and he hugs her back just as tight, rubbing her back and making sure she's thoroughly comforted.

Eddie opens the side door and helps her get buckled into her booster seat. "Start from the beginning," he says after he's in the driver's seat and pulling away from the curb. "Why are we going to the post office?"

"My letter to Santa!" she says, kicking her feet and rocking from side to side. Eddie watches her in the rear view with fond amusement.

"I see, I see," Eddie nods sagely. "That is very important. What do you say we talk Dad into ordering pizza for dinner tonight since it's a special occasion?"

He winces but his grin doesn't falter as Emma's answering screech of "Pizza!" fills the car and she rocks and kicks more excitedly.