#steve: sighs

[cigarettesandharringrove]

eddie would 100% look at billy and steve & would immediately conclude ‘oh yeah they fuckin’

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, to his followers: I cannot believe that it is the year of our lord, 2024, and we have yet to invent the technology to transfer my husband’s migraines to a US Senator. Specifically, Erica Sinclair, who said I looked like a poorly drawn muppet in our groupchat today.

[strangersatellites]

y’all know i’m an “eddie calls steve every pet name under the sun” truther, but tell me why it only occurred to me now that eddie would absolutely call him loverboy

and not even in that sarcastic, goading tone that he has but like…

so soft and so genuine with kisses pressed to his cheek and a quiet “missed you loverboy” and steve’s cheeks flush the prettiest pink

[loserharrington]

steve and argyle as a duo would be so…. argyle would never be outright rude to someone but he would be LOUDLY passive aggressive and steve has no problem telling someone to their face that he’d kill himself to get them to stop talking. it’s like good cop bad cop except they’re both bad cop

[ttpdjo]

♪ lord save me my drug is my baby i'll be using for the rest of my life.. ♪

[forestmossling]

reporter @ an accomplished rockstar!eddie’s boyfriend, steve harrington, a middle-school teacher in a dorky sweater vest: how does it feel dating somebody who’s waaay out of your league?

eddie, pushing himself in front of the camera: amazing, i never thought i’d be this happy

inspired by @singswan-springswan’s meme

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

Hellfire did in fact, have cookies to sell.

More than cookies, which Dustin practically preened over when Eddie dragged himself back to their table. 

The ornaments they had made were still there, but now the centerpiece was an array of baked goods. Spread out in a spiral, it started from the large cake in the center and spun out into miniature cookies held in tiny decorated bags, all while Harrington stood over them like a proud parent. 

It smelled mockingly delicious. 

Eddie glared at the display, resisting the urge to upend the whole thing onto the floor.

Cookies and cakes and (--was that frickin bread pudding?) whatever other treats Harrington had shown up with might look good, but Eddie didn’t trust it. 

Didn’t trust Harrington, even if the bastard had never really done anything himself--but then, he never had to, had he? 

That was the point of all that money, after all. So he could pay other people to do his dirty work while he kept his hands squeaky clean. 

“Inch a bit to the left--there, stop!” Harrington was saying, like the bossy asshole he was.

Like he thought he could just come in and expect everyone to follow his lead. 

“Perfect! Now don’t touch it.” 

God, Eddie had to nip this in the butt, now. Before King Horrorton harassed his sheep all day, and cemented the club's undeserved bad name in the minds of Hawkins.

“Dustin what did I just say--” 

Eddie stepped up to the front of their table, preparing himself for war. Looked over to his friends knowing they'd likely need a nod of reassurance. A show from him that said he had this handled.

There was no cowering. 

No pleading, helpless, 'What do we do Eddie!?' gazes aimed his direction.

Hellfire wasn’t even looking at him, and not because they were all avoiding Harrington's line of sight.

No, the fucking traiters were flanking the King. Like they were buddies with the bastard instead of mortal enemies. 

“Hey, Ed’s, Harrington brought pies. Cakes too!” Gareth said around a mouthful of said cookie when he noticed Eddie standing before him. 

It came out a garbled mess, but years of experience had Eddie understanding him anyway. 

Jeff was busy playing what sounded like twenty fucking questions regarding the setup, and even Grant appeared comfortable, happily letting Harrington order him around as they finished setting up. 

Like this was some kind of cutesy Disney movie where they all held hands and sang songs instead of a hostile takeover situation. 

Eddie’s eye twitched.

Sensing a disturbance in the force, Jeff looked up and immediately interrupted himself to point to a series of red and green cookies placed dead center, delighted. 

“Check it out man, Steve made some shaped like dice!” 

(And he did say ‘Steve.’ 

Not Harrington, or This Asshole, or The Invading Evil Forces of Darkness.

Just Steve, like Steve was someone Jeff hung out with everyday.

Jeff’s cleric was a dead elf walking.) 

Eddie took note of what was in fact, dice cookies. 

He hated how good they looked.

“There’s four flavors.” Steve told him, cocky little grin on his face as he observed his work.  “Chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodle--and the dice ones are sugar cookies.” 

He licked his lips before finally turning to look at Eddie, hair curling over his face and making him wave a hand to brush them out of his eyes. 

Eddie hated how good he looked too. 

‘Hate, hate, hate, absolutely loathe-’ 

“Great, sure, wonderful.” Eddie managed, though given the look Grant and Jeff both shot him it might have come out as more of a growl. 

Dustin rolled his eyes, and Eddie couldn’t help but notice that Hellfire’s other two youngest hadn’t dared to show their faces yet. 

Likely they knew Eddie was having an absolute meltdown over Steve’s presence and were waiting for his reaction to blow over. 

(Their characters were dead too.) 

“I have two full cakes--one chocolate, on vanilla--and a few individual slices we can sell.” Steve was continuing, as if Eddie wasn’t glaring a hole in his forehead. “Those did really well last year when I made them for the basketball team.” 

Insults fought for space on Eddie’s tongue, but he managed to roll a 20 to pick the best one, opening his mouth to let it fly.

"Harr-" is as far as he got before he was rudely interrupted.

“Steve? Is that you?” A woman Eddie didn’t recognize but was clearly someone's mom came up cautiously to the table, side eyeing the Hellfire banner like a nervous horse. “That can’t be your famous tiramisu, is it?”

Steve beamed at her. “Well hi Miss Carpenter. It is!” 

Eddie was bumped aside by a massive purse, the woman not even glancing in his direction as she stepped up to the table. 

With a sneer, he finally slumped to the back of their little spot as Miss Carpenter looked over all Steve’s (not Hellfire’s and absolutely not Eddie’s) offerings. 

Didn’t care to wipe it off right then, even if he knew he needed to if he wanted to make sales. 

Jeff sent him a look.

The same one he usually aimed Eddie’s way when he thought Eddie’s antics were going to cause problems. 

He ignored it, on grounds that traitors don’t get to be judgy. 

“Oh,” Miss Caprtender tittered, the draw of Harrington’s baked goods clearly overcoming whatever fear she had about Hellfire. “Well I just can’t pass that up. The swim team meets aren’t the same without you!”

Eddie pretended to gag.  

Waited for her to comment on Hellfire--their clothes, their music, hell even the length of Eddie’s hair--and found he was almost disappointed when there wasn't even a single question about Hawkins precious golden child was slumming it with the weirdos. 

Instead, Miss Carpenter's hand went fishing in her purse for her wallet as she loudly called out over her shoulder, to presumably another annoying woman; 

“Terry, Steve’s here! He’s been baking!” 

For two terrifying seconds, there was a notable dip in the conversations around them. 

Grant’s eyes went wide as several women responded to the announcement like dogs hearing food hit the floor, and within seconds their table was absolutely swarmed by the mothers of Hawkins.

Even Eddie’s eyes went wide at the sheer number of them. 

“Hold, men, hold.” Dustin cautioned as Jeff and Grant both took a step back. “Come on, we need to get our gold!” 

“They’re scary though.” Gareth whispered in horror as four women tried to talk at once, jostling each other so hard they shook the table menacingly. 

“Ladies, ladies there’s enough here for everyone!” Steve laughed, showing off his disgustingly cute dimples as he did, getting several of the mom’s to blush at their own behavior in the process. 

The sheer amount of attention of course, drew in even more people, and Dustin quickly took up directing, planting Jeff and Grant at either end of their table while he and Steve fended off the hoard from the front. 

(Given the way he and Steve were equally ordering Hellfire around, Eddie finally knew where the little shit had picked that attitude up from. He was going to have to cure Dustin of it, ASAP.  ) 

“Here you go Miss Harper.” Steve said sweetly, handing over yet another stack of baked goods.

Without turning his head, and in the tone of voice one used to warn a misbehaving dog, he added; “Gareth don’t think I can’t fucking see you, get back up here.” 

Caught trying to sink under the table with another cookie in his mouth, Gareth found himself hauled back to his feet by his collar, putting a snarl on Eddie’s face immediately. 

“Hey--” He started, defensive and more than ready to intercede, except Gareth wasn’t flinching or cursing or doing that thing he did with his mouth when he was desperately trying to hold in his temper. 

Instead he was giving a sheepish grin and a half-assed apology while he hung in Harrington’s grasp, before doing what the guy told him to do. 

(It did not help that Steve patted him on the shoulder when he released him, before handing Gareth a third fucking cookie.)

Eddie’s eye twitched a second time.

(He told it to knock it off.

It didn’t listen.) 

No one acknowledged Eddie or his outburst, which meant he was just skulking behind the boys while they all worked. 

Arms crossed, rings tapping a rhythm on his forearm, far too keyed up to do anything other than glare at the back of Harrington's skull.

The King seemed perfectly happy to ignore him.

Likewise, Gareth and Grant knew better than to bother him when he was in a snit. 

Henderson made the occasional snappy little comment, but the brat had mostly left him alone now that they were well into the swing of selling, chortling over the increasing stack of cash Steve kept trying to get him to put into a “safe place.” 

Eddie was seconds away from walking up and snatching the cash himself when Jeff decided it was on him to attempt the impossible. 

Get him to help Harrington. 

“More hands would be nice, Eddie!” Jeff called, looking more than a little harassed as the mom he was helping changed her order a second time, snaking out the last single slice of chocolate cake from another mom who was eyeing it. “Steve and I could really use your assistance over here!” 

Eddie’s glare, which had been doing its level best to try and vaporize the King’s brain, switched targets instantly. 

“I’m supervising.” 

Jeff made a face like he was about to argue, but the King beat him to it. 

“It must be tough,” Harrington said, tilting his head to look back towards Eddie, “to supervise people who are working so much harder than you.” 

Which promptly set the mood for the next full hour. 

xXx 

Harrington was matching him tit for tat.

Every shitty, sneered word out of Eddie’s mouth was met with an equally mean toned barb, though given the repeated looks everyone kept shooting him, Eddie was very much considered the aggressor here.

A fact he cannot believe is coming from his own friends.

What happened to comradery? To Eddie stepping in and protecting them, from the likes of people just like Harrington? 

But no, Eddie makes one fucking comment about how the cookies are probably half hair-spray and suddenly he’s the bad guy.

(Nevermind that Steve had fired right back, telling Eddie that any hair-spray taste was probably from all the drugs he did.)

Was somewhat, halfway--okay maybe amazing, Eddie might have snuck a cookie himself--food really all it took to get them all to turn on him like this?

Erase the years of Eddie being their shield in high school? 

Act like Harrington wasn’t just as bitchy and awful as he had been in high school (even if he was, admittedly, being nicer about it all right now? Almost--aloof, like he couldn’t figure out why Eddie hated him so much, but likewise wasn’t going to take even one eye roll sitting down--and no, no, Eddie wasn't derailing this by thinking about his stupid eyes, he wasn't!) 

Frankly he would have flipped them all the bird and stormed off, if it weren’t for the increasingly weird little comments people were making. 

‘Oh Steve, it's a shock to see you here.’ 

‘Are you doing someone a favor?’ 

‘You know Pastor Jim said something about this game…’

The last one had put Eddie’s teeth on edge, even if Dustin had brushed it off. It hadn’t been aimed at Steve directly but the women saying it had absolutely been looking at the King, as if waiting for his reaction.

Not that Harrington would take the bait this soon, though. 

There were too many people buying fricken…cupcakes and shit, while the King enjoyed the attention of the masses. 

Eventually this tiny crowd would die down though, and that’s when Harrington would change his tune. Start answering some of the questions he seemed to be dodging as more and more people got braver about coming up to the table.

This whole thing was a ticking time bomb, and Eddie would be ready when it inevitably blew. 

To defend his table, his club, his friends. 

Even Henderson, who absolutely didn’t deserve it just then. 

“Dude perk up would you? You look like you’re going to stab somebody.” Jeff hissed at him ten minutes later, when there was finally a break in the flood. 

Eddie ignored him in place of taking stock of the table. (And maybe, sneaking another cookie.)

“Hope you brought more than this, Harrington.” He said, knowing he sounded like a stuck up ass and not feeling an iota of guilt about it. “Unless you plan to run home and bake more like a good little housewife.”  

“Dude.” Grant said, casting him a look like King Dick might leave and take the cookies with him.

“Oh I brought more.” Harrington dismissed, with a small flick of his fingers. “And I’ll have you know you’d never find a housewife more perfect than I am, Munson.” 

Then he turned to nail Eddie with the most shit eating grin he’d ever seen the King wear. 

Facing flaming a brilliant red, Eddie sputtered for a second before finally getting ahold of himself and spitting; 

“How delightful. I--” 

“Okay.” Jeff cut in, forever the mediator. “Gary, Dustin can you help Steve pull the extra stuff out from under the tables? While I go talk to Eddie?” 

“Can I try the tiramisu?” Gareth asked, inching hopefully towards the treat while keeping an eye on Harrington’s hands, lest he get smacked again. 

“Only if you’re a good boy.” Harrington told him sarcastically and goddammit why did that make Eddie blush harder!? 

Jeff sighed, before grabbing his arm and hauling Eddie back, away from the table, right as a younger man in some stupid sport’s jacket asked questions about one of the dice cookies.

“Look I get it man, I do,” Jeff started, voice talking on the sort of wheelding, pleading tone it did when he really wanted something and knew Eddie was opposed. “but Steve’s actually been super cool. We might actually make money off this, and he’s giving us all of it. Can you just… not antagonize him for five minutes?” 

Eddie stared at his best friend in abject horror. 

“You couldn’t have talked to him for more than twenty minutes total. Half of which he spent bitching that you were bagging a cake wrong! At what point was Harrington "being cool!?"

The asterisks were made by his fingers, which Eddie mockingly framed his face with. 

He got a flat, unimpressed stare in return. 

“It was a very informative twenty minutes and he was right about the cake. Now are you going to help or are you going to glower in the corner?” 

Eddie gaped. 

“I cannot believe you right now--”

Jeff didn’t even wait to hear him out.

 “You’ve chosen to glower. I can’t help you man, but we’d all have a much better day if you weren’t at Harrington’s throat every five seconds.” Jeff turned smoothly on his heel.

Over his shoulder he added; “Seriously, don’t come back until you’ve worked your way out of your snit.” 

Shocked, Eddie watched Jeff float back to the front, inserting himself easily between Grant and Steve and immediately striking up a conversation.

With the enemy. 

“I didn’t know you baked.” Jeff told Steve loudly (and very obviously, for Eddie to see.) 

Steve gave a bashful little smile, then shrugged. “It’s a hobby. Got into it back when the basketball team needed to fundraise a few years ago and Tommy’s mom got it in her head we should sell home baked goods. Turns out its kinda fun.” 

“Please never get out of it.” Gareth insisted, a piece of God knows what crammed in his mouth.

“Dude, how many of those have you gotten into!? Stop eating the merchandise!” Dustin commanded, smacking at Gareth’s shoulder. 

“I physically cannot stop man.” Gareth dodged, reaching out for another cookie. “I’m not sorry.” 

Steve just laughed. All charming and buddy-buddy, like it was natural for him to be here. 

Wearing a Hellfire shirt. Making jokes and teasing the guys. 

In Eddie’s fucking place. 

He seethed, fingers twitching, and envisioned the very unsexy murder of one Steve Harrington.  

Cartoon X’s for eyes and all. 

xXx

Trouble didn't hit the table.

It in fact, seemed to stay away as if on purpose, to shove in Eddie's face that he was the one in the wrong here.

Even the questions toned done, as the second wave of moms showed up, this round prompted by some former teammate of Steve’s Eddie didn’t recognize yelling about his apple pie.

Instead, Eddie’s wayward sheep finally made their appearance Mike and Lucas trying to sneak in as if Eddie wouldn’t notice during the new rush.

(Eddie himself almost caused trouble when he realized Lucas was wearing a Not-A-Hellfire shirt, which solved the mystery of where Harrington had gotten his.

He was inching his way towards them, a snarky word on his tongue when he saw Sinclair said something about how he was “already on Eddie’s shitlist for joining the basketball team,” in relation to what must have been a question about his Hellfire shirt, that caused Eddie to freeze.

With the air of a sad, wet kitten, Lucas followed it with; “I’m sure it won’t be long before he kicks me out of Hellfire anyway.” 

Like he'd been punched in the gut, all the air left Eddie’s lungs.

Because before Lucas had said that, Eddie had been thinking it. 

Not really--he’d never kick anyone out of Hellfire.

It was more that he'd thought about it in the way one does when you know you're right, and are having to resort to underhanded tactics to force the other party to come to their senses.

Like a sort of shitty, angry “I should kick you out, let you see what happens when you don’t have us!” kind of innervation.

The same kind he had heard the jocks sling before, when they were mad at each other and--God he wasn’t--he couldn’t be, like them...could he?

Like fucking Harrington, who oh fuck, was patting Lucas sympathetically on the shoulder and giving him some kind of whispered advice. 

Sonovabitch. 

“I’m going for a smoke.” Eddie bit out, vision tunneling.

He knew he needed to go sit down somewhere, before he fucking lost it in front of Hawkin, Harrington and everyone. 

And wouldn’t that just be a treat for King Steve?

To watch Eddie realize he had turned into the very thing he hated, preached against, even? 

That Steve was, maybe, possibly, doing a better job of following Eddie’s own Munson Doctrine than he was?

Eddie barely saw the room anymore--waived off whatever Grant was trying to say to him as flew past, shaking hands fishing for a desperately needed cigarette.

Maybe a hope and a prayer too, because apparently he needed it.

How long had he been like this? 

Been a douchebag asshole? 

Was it the whole year? More than? Or was it just now, with stupid Steve involved? Could he trace this back to that stupidly cute--no, no, annoying, asshole?

Was this some fucked up way of coping with his growing crush!?

Lost in thought and growing self hatred he nearly careened right into Robin Buckley.

Her slightly bent paper reindeer ears marking her as a member of the band kids who had been absolutely butchering ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ a few minutes earlier. 

Vaguely heard her yell Steve’s name as he ran off (because that’s what he was doing. What he always did.

Run--from himself and his own fucking feelings, like a total cliche.)

--but didn’t take in that she was doing more than saying hi to, oh fuck him sideways--her friend.

Because she and Steve were friends.

Good ones, if the freshmen were to be believed.

Rather than go outside and catastrophize in the cold, Eddie threw himself threw the doors at the end of the hall, then up the stairwell, to the second floor.

Tucked himself right into a corner, right there by the stairs.

Sank down into a crouch, hands scrubbing up his face before tangling in his hair, head dropping between his knees, cigarette shoved into his mouth.

Somehow, Eddie decided, this was Steve’s fault. 

He'd have come up with a reason for that, he was sure. A good one even, except he forgot one of the key features of his life.

He was a Munson, and as a general rule of life, nice neat things did not happen to Munson's--but they did get kicked while they were down.

“Okay, what happened?” Steve fucking Harrington asked, voice loudly echoing up the stairwell from down below, and Eddie threw his head back, nearly slamming it against the wall. 

(Maybe he’d pissed off a witch. His life would make a lot more sense if someone had cursed it.)

“She gave me her number!”

That was Buckley, the shrill timber identifiable even as she whispered the words. 

Eddie can’t really see them without giving himself away--could probably make his escape if he got down and army-crawled past the railing he’s huddled by, but figured this is their fault anyway. 

Not his problem if he overhears a private conversation if they’re both too stupid to check to see if someone was seated literally right up above them.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?" Steve was saying. "That’s what we wanted!” 

“Is it!? What if she’s just, you know, giving it to me?” 

“...I’m not following.” 

“Like in a friend way. Not a--”

“Romantic way?”

Harrington has the smarts to say the words quietly.  So quietly in fact, that had Eddie not been in the exact right position he wouldn’t have heard--but he almost swallowed his unlit (he should have lit it, maybe they'd have smelled the smoke and fucked off) cigarette anyway. 

“Sssshh!” Robin hissed, and Eddie can’t see either of them but he imagined her jamming her hand over Harrington’s big fat mouth. 

“Not so loud, Steve!” 

“Sorry, God.” Sure enough, Harrington’s voice is muffled. “How did she give it to you? Did she say anything?” 

“She asked if I want to hang out after band, but because I have that stupid family thing, I told her I couldn’t today, but I can literally any other day, and she said she’d call me, and I said--” 

“Robs, breathe.” 

“Don’t interrupt me, Dingus!” Robin said, voice shrill again, before she clearly listened to Harrington and took a breath. 

 It was big, and deep, and she blasted it back out loud enough for the fucking birds on the roof to hear. 

In a calmer voice, Robin continued; “I said we never traded phone numbers so I didn’t have hers. She grabbed my arm and wrote her number on it. Look, she added a heart!” 

“Okay, here you go! A hearts a good sign!"  

And Harrington sounded--sounds happy for her, practically ecstatic, which doesn’t make much sense given Robin is talking about a ‘her’ and-

And-and-and--

Eddie’s always been quick to connect the dots. 

It’s something he inherited from his old man. A Munson trait he’s tried to make his own through being an excellent DM (and not by robbing people blind or boosting cars.) 

Here, the dots clearly screamed that Robin Buckley was trying to ask a woman out. 

You know, in a gay way. 

Which Harrington not only knew, but was supportive of. 

Steve Harrington, who famously called Jonathan Byers' a queer before smashing the guy's beloved camera into the ground. 

Eddie’s head exploded. 

Or was in the process of exploding--he’s not entirely sure given the tunnel vision was back and his soul felt like it had exited his body entirely. 

Just knew that his world was being remade for a second time in five minutes, and that he was dealing with it pretty damn poorly.

(Maybe God would be nice for once, and just give him the aneurism he clearly deserved.)

Which was of course, when trouble finally did decide to show face, in the form of Dustin Henderson barging through the doors and into Steve and Robin's little meeting.

Eddie knew, because Eddie could hear him.

“Steve! Steve we have a problem!” 

“I’m busy Dustin--”

“Be busy later, we have an emergency on our hands!” 

“And what, pray tell, do you think is an emergency?” 

Eddie, who had instantly latched onto the conversation by the sheer need to have something distract him from his own thoughts, wondered the very same.

“Jason Carver showed up at the table, with a priest. They’re trying to do some whole kind of crazy sermon--is that a good enough emergency for you!?” 

“Oh shit. ” Steve spat, at the same time Eddie yelled it from up high. 

He sprang up, all thoughts of Robin and Steve knowing he’d eavesdropped vanishing entirely from his head as he lunged for the stairs.

Flew down them, because the thing he'd been waiting all fucking day for had finally happened.

He nearly crashed into Robin once again as he blew through the barely closed doors, Steve and Dustin already far ahead of him.

“Eddie?” Robin asked, voice noticeably nervous. "Were you--"

"Not now Starbuck, but we can talk later." Eddie told her, flying right past.

After he saved Hellfire. 

[doomsdaybby]

“You good down there, pretty girl?” Steve coos sweetly, a buttery candied tone that disputes the brutal snap of his hips, large hands enveloping your wrists crossed over your chest. His weight is heavy on your ribs, skin squeezing red raw and the threat of future bruising already blooming under his crushing fingers.

Your head is tipped back at the edge of his bed, and Steve’s throbbing cock is stuffed so far down your throat that any answer you could possibly give is just another pathetic wet whimper, spluttering around his length to choke out obscene reams of sticky saliva. He knows that, revels in the fact, threatening to burst his bottom lip that is latched between his top row of pearly whites.

“Fuucckk” he drawls crudely, a feral sort of sound that has your neglected clit throbbing in perfect torturous synchronism with his unforgiving thrusts.

“You love taking me like this, don’t you?” he laughs, one sinister and somewhat cruel, and you’re squeezing your thighs together and rutting where you need him the most against nothing. It’s almost too much to bear, glassy eyes rolling to the back of your head as your brain swims with that familiar staticky warmth.

“Look at that pretty little throat” Steve cups your wrists with one hand now, ensuring to keep you planted exactly where he needs you. The other encircles your spent neck, right over the lewd bulge that his girth stretches and stretches and stretches some more. You don’t get to breathe until his say so, not when he’s wallowing in such intoxicating euphoria.

“Stretched so fucking wide for me. So fucking good” you can hear the grit of his teeth, picturing the protruding veins in his neck throbbing with hot blood, and the blissful strain painting his beautiful features.

Poor Steve had been wound so tight these past couple days. Working overtime and double shifts, both passing ships in the night with barely any opportunity to give the other a kiss on the forehead, let alone be intimate.

“Missed you. Missed this” he groans with a ragged breath, a particular sharp roll of his hips has your stomach retracting in a dramatic gag. Hair stuck to the beads of sweat stippling his forehead, mouth taking form of a sweet little ‘o’ when you attempted to swallow around him, a completely involuntary action that has you thrashing your legs.

“Hang on, honey. I’m so fucking close, gonna cum. You ready? Take it all f’me, angel. Show me how good you are”.

You couldn’t even register the flood of Steve’s release, bleary eyes streaming white hot tears that coated Steve’s bedroom carpet beneath you. Your hair was mussed, the majority tangled in spit strings as if you had been caught in a thunderstorm.

“Atta girl, atta fucking. girl.” Another brutal slam of him hips, heavy balls cutting off any chance of air supply through your nose as Steve buries himself into you, vision sparkling with black spots and the blood rushing ruthlessly to your head.

Steve released your hands then and you had to push the man away from you by the thighs before you passed out, his cock still connected to your puffy lips with frothy buntings of drool.

Steve’s hand is pushing back your hair once you’re on all fours, coughing hoarsely and throat ripped to complete shreds. Though you lent into the touch, the gentle scrape of his nails at your scalp, down your reddened cheeks to cup your chin, titling your watery gaze up to his own.

“Such a good job, my angel. Now let me take care of you”.

————

just a little something bc i’m feral feral feral for my steve rn 😩🤭

[freckledjoes]

Many thoughts, mannnnny thoughts.

source: edgenights on instagram

[taintedcigs]

Steve loves driving you around.

Picking you up, dropping you off, random late night drives, random 'please come with me to run some errand' drives.

Everything.

You always assume he would hate it, get bored, annoyed, from having you just sitting there. But it's all he wants. needs.

Have you right there by him, pretty smile curving on your lips, the light wind from the cranked down windows whiffling through your skin, hair, causing your scent to linger in the air. Comfort filling the space.

His thick palm gripping the wheel, while the other is lightly pressed upon your thigh, squeezing three times to let you know he is there, protective, sticky-sweet, enough to fill your stomach with all the butterflies.

Your hands return the favor, tender fingertips brushing against his possessive grip, almost to ground him, bring him all the comfort he needs, his world turning on its axis every time he realizes you're his. How lucky he is to have you by his side.

You glance at him with your nose scrunched, smile adorning your glossed lips, he wants to kiss it all over, run his fingertips along your features, admire it, have it etched on to his brain. He'd do just about anything to see your pretty expressions.

Yet, all he can utter are endless compliments, "s'pretty... just like an angel, hmm?" He admires the heat traveling up to your cheeks, smile growing wider as you tell him to stop, but he could never.

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing gentle kisses all over the back of it, warmth traveling through him instantly.

Rest of the ride is filled with shared, tender kisses, whispers of compliments, and the two of you singing along to your favorite songs he made a mixtape of, it's nothing short of caring, attentive, and everything you need wrapped up in a bundle.

He hates when it ends, when he inevitably has to drop you off to your destination, heart leaping out of his chest when that small smile disappears from your lips. His does too - knowing that the warmth and comfort would leave with you.

"What time should I pick you up, honey?" It always makes you feel bad, like some sort of a burden, and he can sense it in your anxious gaze.

"Stevie, y'know I can just walk-" And he tuts quickly, never letting you finish. You don't realize it, how much he enjoys this - the comfort you bring to him just being by his side, and his incessant need to keep you safe.

"Nuh-uh, will you be done by 8:30?" He asks with a smile, you tilt your head with a narrowed gaze, all adorably that Steve melts, all over again.

"Steve."

"Sweetheart," he parrots, wicked grin on his lips that makes you giggle, dreamy gaze that you can't say no to. "Mhmm, 8:30 is perfectly fine," you give in, so easily, so quickly, giving him comfort when he leaves you with a simple goodbye kiss.

And just like promised, he's there, at 8:30 - not a minute late, with that beaming smile, glint in his gaze that makes you feel so giddy that you skip your way into his BMW.

Steve turns toward you with a beaming grin, one hand holding the door open, while the other is stuffed with a bouquet of flowers, warmth filling your heart instantly.

You squeal at the lilac Asters and the eggshell white Baby's breath adorning the bouquet - you know to acquire those flowers he had to make an almost twenty minutes trip away from Hawkins, but Steve would do anything for you. Speechless and grateful, your big doe-eyes look up at him, tears almost welling, before you can speak, he gives you a light kiss.

"I picked up something to eat on my way here," he mumbles, smile so big his cheeks hurt from the stretch, but he can't help it. He'd do anything for you, his pretty, pretty girl.

And he knows you so well.

The two of you drive back the same way he got you there, munching on the fries, his hand on your thigh while you helped him sip on his cherry coke, telling him about your day, his mixtape for you serves as a background drop.

And he doesn't understand how you'd think you could ever be a burden, because that's all he wants anyway, to take care of you, have his passenger princess by his side.

[transvampireboyfriend]

Had this “Steve only hates impersonal nicknames” idea in my notes for a while and then after seeing @cholvoq​ ‘s wonderful art I had to turn it into a real thing for Valentine’s Day. This is 2.4k, i’m SO sorry edit: you can now read this on ao3 :)

Eddie’s a nickname guy. It’s always Dusty this and Gare-Bear that and JeffJeff here and Bobbie there and it’s Mikey and Maxxii and Nance-pants and Johnny and… big boy?

Him being a nickname guy makes it near impossible to hide his crushes. Thankfully, Steve had been really cool about it. Sure, he seemed a little stunned, but Eddie still had all his teeth in place by the end of that interaction, so he had called that a win.

He hadn’t known then that Steve was… different. Or he was starting to see it but what he thought was shocking then had really been just the tip of the iceberg. He hadn’t expected Steve to be nice. Or funny, or caring, or protective, or understanding.

He had learned all of that after everything. During chats on Hellfire nights while the kids cleaned up after themselves, during hangouts at the diner with Robin and Nancy, during Saturday afternoons when he went to pick out a movie only to end up talking with Steve, their conversation flowing until it was cut short by Steve’s shift ending.

After some time, Eddie had gotten to know Steve even more during long weekday nights when one came over to bring the other something they left behind, or to share a record, or to demand the beers the other owes or to show the other a stupid article in a stupid magazine only to end up making dinner together and watching a movie afterwards.

They stopped making excuses about two weeks ago.

Eddie had asked “do youuu… wanna come over?” on Saturday night, while nervously twirling his keys as Steve locked the front doors of the Family Video.

The evening chill had cut right through Eddie’s leather jacket as his keys clanged against his rings. But Steve had nodded with a smile and asked “pizza?” on their way to their cars, and Eddie had forgotten all about the cold.

Point being, Steve had been just fine with ‘big boy’ when it happened. Eddie’s a nickname guy. Him and Steve are hanging out more now, and so, Eddie’s been calling him more nicknames. Some of them are very intentional, others come completely without thinking, and it turns out, Steve takes issue with a few of them.

The first time it happens, Eddie’s underneath his van trying to get the damn thing to cooperate, the recent winter was tough on it, and it keeps dying out on him.

Steve sits nearby perched on a little stool, wearing his Family Video vest since he came by right after finishing his morning shift to see if they could make plans for lunch. Eddie suggested they grab something at the diner if and when he finally gets the van to start back up and Steve had agreed to wait.

He’s been telling Eddie about tonight’s basketball- game? match? super bowl? Is there such a thing as the major leagues of basketball? Eddie’s not sure, but he adores the sound of Steve’s voice and he’s kind of invested in the drama of players switching teams and retiring and whatever else Steve wants to tell him about. So, he’s been listening, not really bothering with asking for clarification for what he doesn’t understand yet. He’ll figure it out as they go.

He's blindly patting the floor around his legs for his rag, when he feels Steve put it right in his hand.

Eddie’s relieved. "Thanks, bud!" he says, the nickname just rolling off his tongue effortlessly, no meaning attached.

It gets kind of quiet all of a sudden. After about five seconds of Steve not talking, Eddie comes out to check on him, and finds him frowning at his legs.

"Don't call me ‘bud’" Steve requests, looking up at his face, his tone just a tad harsh. Eddie would think he ran into King Steve if he didn't know any better.

As it is, Eddie gets Steve probably thinks the nickname is childish or patronizing, so he doesn’t think twice of it, just gets a little sheepish and says "sorry, Stevie".

Steve smiles at that, a little cocky. He does his little mean girl shaking his head thing like he just got exactly what he wanted. Eddie feels his face twist a bit in confusion, but he likes it when Steve gets a little mean so he doesn't say anything about it and just dives back under his van as Steve resumes their conversation.

 The second time it happens, they’re outside the supermarket. The kids shot out of the van as soon as it rolled to a stop, Steve calling out a warning after them while still listening to Eddie explain why Star Wars and Star Trek are actually very different but really good in their own way. Their conversation carries on as they hop out of the van, lock up and walk to meet at the front.

“I’m telling you, Star Trek is great. You would love it,” Eddie says, “you just have to give it a chance”.

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but Eddie can see his smile.

“Ok, alright,” Steve answers, “you can show me tonight then”, it’s almost too nonchalant. Eddie has to hide his grin.

Steve’s been suggesting they hang out more and more lately, and he can’t help but feel a bit hopeful. They clearly enjoy each other’s company, their time together is never dull, Steve seems to be really comfortable around him and maybe, just maybe…

“Should we get beers then?” Eddie asks, excited at the prospect of some more time alone with him.  They haven’t had a weeknight hangout since Eddie fixed his van last week. He kinda misses the very specific color of Steve’s eyes in the Harringtons’ yellow living room lamplight.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his eyes get soft in a way Eddie only started noticing a couple of weeks back, “we can watch it at my place” he adds. Eddie thinks he definitely hasn’t seen him look at anyone else like that.

To shake himself out of the spell of the prettiest boy he’s ever met making the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen at him and ONLY him, Eddie grabs Steve by the wrist and starts marching them towards the supermarket’s front doors.

Without thinking, Eddie says "c'mon man," as they go.

Steve, who started easily following him (like he always does these days), suddenly stops in his tracks. Eddie gets pulled back and almost stumbles on top of Steve. He'd get flustered if Steve wasn't frowning at him like he’d just said the most insulting thing he’d heard this month.

"Don't call me ‘man’" Steve says. Eddie feels his eyebrows raise a bit.

He debates asking why but doesn't question Steve in the end. He’d rather offer understanding than judgement to him any day.

So, Eddie takes advantage of Steve's wrist in his hand, and squeezes there a bit, says "I'm sorry sweetheart" sincerely, looks into Steve's eyes so he can see Eddie means it.

Steve blushes a bit then, not really used to the nickname yet, Eddie just got the balls to start using it last week. Eddie himself is not really used to seeing Steve blush, and at something he says? It’s too much power for one metalhead.

But he gets distracted from Steve’s blush because it happens again, Steve basically preens like a peacock once Eddie switches nicknames. Looks smug, like he has Eddie wrapped around his finger and well, Eddie guesses he does, so, no arguments there either.

He just smiles back at Steve, really, has no other choice, it’s not like he can control how he reacts to the most gorgeous fucking face the universe could ever come up with. But he tugs him along again, Steve happily following this time.

The next time it happens, Steve’s leaning against his kitchen island, with Eddie leaning across from him against the counter.

The party is watching a movie in the Harringtons’ living room and at some point, Eddie got up to get himself another soda, Steve not so subtly followed after him, taking the empty popcorn bowls to the sink. He struck up a conversation and there they stayed.

Eddie’s been turning the small gesture around and around in his head. Clearly Steve’s not shy about seeking him out, and he’s obviously good with the party knowing, which means a hell of a lot because those are Steve’s people, that’s his family.

Eddie’s honestly running out of excuses to not ask him out. Seeing him reaching out to bump his sneaker against Eddie’s boot when he says something funny, laughing just a little too hard at Eddie’s dumb joke; seeing his eyes widen a bit when Eddie compliments him; seeing him notice when Eddie is holding back from talking too much, and not letting it go until he thinks Eddie’s shared all of his opinions on the subject; Eddie thinks maybe he can be brave, when it comes to Steve.

And this week might be the perfect time.

Here they are still, the movie long ended and several easy conversations floating from the living room to the kitchen, where they’re still engrossed on their own.

“I mean I taught the kid how to do his hair for god’s sake!” Steve is saying, Eddie’s laughing easily, and he has a slight suspicion Steve’s acting way more annoyed than he really is because he knows Eddie dies laughing every time Steve roasts the kids.

“Just, if he’s gonna give me hair advice, he should work on that goddamn tone. At the Very Least.” Steve finishes, Eddie giggling all the while at his Annoyed Mom tone.

"Yeah, dude!" Eddie agrees, wanting to egg him on, but Steve's face suddenly falls and whatever remark Eddie had locked and loaded just fades away.

Eddie blinks perplexed; he’s getting déjà vu.

Steve frowns at him, says "Don't call me ‘dude’".

It’s eerie, only he sounds a bit annoyed this time.

Eddie thinks, maybe someone called Steve ‘dude’ before in an unpleasant way, so he doesn't pry.  Instead, he takes the chance to call him a nickname he likes more, and says "Sorry, pretty boy", his heart fluttering in the milliseconds he has to wait for Steve’s reaction.

And it happens one last time: Steve absolutely beams at that one, his smile so bright it makes Eddie want to jump in place.

He leans further back on the counter returning the smile, not noticing the common thread in Steve’s reactions to him switching nicknames.

But then the glint in Steve’s eyes suddenly brightens a dim corner of Eddie’s brain. He gets this feeling that reminds him of a perfectly set up riddle or finding that one perfect note for his latest song. It’s like everything suddenly just makes sense.

Eddie feels realization dawn on his face as he pushes himself off the counter to walk right into Steve’s personal bubble, grabs both of Steve's hands.

"Steve" Eddie says, not even caring that he sounds like the name is dripping in honey when it comes out of his mouth. With how sweet Steve is, it might as well be.

Steve just looks at him a little stunned, but doesn't say anything. Eddie draws circles in the back of his palms to reassure him.

"Why don't you want me to call you ‘dude’?" Eddie asks, trying to find out if this whole thing is what he thinks it is.

Steve looks down at their joined hands,.

"You call Nancy that sometimes..." Steve mumbles.

His answer would sound inconsequential to the unsuspecting, certainly would have to Eddie as late as last week, but Eddie thinks he’s finally getting it, and he hums his understanding.

"How ‘bout ‘man’?" he asks

Steve replies "You call Robin that sometimes..." his eyes still on their hands.

Eddie nods his agreement.

"I call everyone those things" he points out.

Steve agrees. "Exactly" he says, finally looking at him again, sounding annoyed and confirming Eddie’s suspicions.

Eddie feels his face split into a smile. He wants to grab Steve’s beautiful freaking face and just plant one on him.

"Can I still call you sweetheart?" he ventures instead. The nickname brings the hint of a smile to Steve's face but then he seems to realize something not so pleasant.

"Do you call someone else ‘sweetheart’?" Steve asks in return.

"No one" Eddie says, shaking his head, his tone vehement.

"Then yes" Steve finally answers. Eddie's heart wants to beat right out of his chest.

He interlocks their fingers to ground himself, Steve looks down at their hands and smiles at the sight.

"So, you don't want me to call you something I call someone else?" Eddie states, more than asks, calling Steve’s eyes back to his again.

"Anyone else" Steve confirms, holding his gaze.

Eddie lets out a small shuddering exhale and feels his heart fluttering in his throat, he really cannot believe this boy.

"Steve" Eddie drawls, dripping in honey again, his hands coming up to cradle Steve's face because he really can't resist anymore "Sweetheart" he says.

Steve's eyes grow a little wide and he starts blushing so much that Eddie can feel it in his palms.

"Steevieeee" Eddie sinsongs, squeezing Steve's face a bit "Pretty boy" Eddie calls him. Steve just keeps looking at him and a small smile blooms in his pretty, pretty face.

"Would you let me take you out to dinner this Friday?" Eddie finally asks him, his fingers curling to the back of Steve's head to play with his hair there. Steve's eyes get even wider.

" 's Valentine's this Friday" he points out. Eddie knows.

"Mmhm. Want you to be my Valentine." Eddie tells him, tugs his hair gently, "How's that sound?" he asks, bold in a way he never has been before. Steve blushing does things to him.

"Sounds nice" Steve answers. He smiles and nods while his hands hook on Eddie's belt loops.

"Then it's a date?" Eddie asks, trying not to sound too eager. He thinks he fails spectacularly but Steve beams and pulls him in to kiss his cheek.

"It's a date" Steve tells him, his breath ghosting on Eddie's cheek and making him shiver.

Steve pulls back, lets go of Eddie’s belt loops and tugs on a strand of his hair gently, smiling like the cat that got the cream as he walks back out into the living room.

Eddie’s gonna make this the best Valentine’s Day date Steve has ever been on.

[morganbritton132]

Steve: A group of a crows is called a murder and a group of ferrets is called a business. What’s a group of cows called?

Eddie: Herd of cows

Steve: Yeah, I’ve heard of them but what is a bunch of them called?

Eddie: *loud silence*

[mardyart]

new year’s eve hawkins fair and they’re on guard duty together

[meidui]

smiley steve 😚

[ttpdjo]

♪ the more that you say the less i know, wherever you stray i follow, im begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans that's my man ♪

[strawberryspence]

Listen, it’s been a hard few days.

From the day Eddie— his new friend— got pulled into this shit show called The Upside Down, to when he literally had to watch Max float into the air as the evil wizard from the other dimension tried to kill her from the inside. To today, in which Eddie’s in the hospital— after Steve miraculously carried him on his back to the hospital— and where Max is also in— broken and in a coma, but alive.

It’s natural to feel confused from fatigue and emotional distress. But this? Dustin doesn’t even know what to do with it.

It’s been a long morning. After a lot of suffocating, but well deserved, smothering from his mother, he then got another suffocating but again, well deserved smothering from Steve when he finally picked him up.

Steve looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, his hair is… a mess. It’s flat and not styled. It looks like he didn’t even go home? Did he stay by Eddie’s side the whole night? For someone who hates someone, that’s a lot of effort. Dustin opens his mouth to ask or investigate, but they arrive at the hospital in a record time. Steve probably ignored every street sign.

What Dustin doesn’t understand is why Eddie’s room is jam packed so early in the morning? In the room, there’s Erica, Lucas, Mike, Robin, Nancy and Wayne, Eddie’s Uncle. And now there’s him and Steve.

“Why are you all in here?!” Dustin asks the room. There’s too many people in the small hospital bedroom.

“The doctors said he’s waking up anytime soon.” Nancy informs him, not taking her eyes off Eddie.

“And you’re all here to just watch him?” Dustin pushes in distress, “You guys, we might overwhelm him when he wakes up. We should do it one at a time.”

“I am not leaving.” Erica voices out at the corner of the room.

“Guys.” Dustin says, his voice wavering with anxiety and worry. He meets Mr. Munson’s eyes, who softens at the expression on his face.

“It’s okay, kid.” Wayne rasps, “Eddie would love to wake up with everyone just watching him. Ya know how dramatic he is.”

This earns a few snickers and chuckles from them. Dustin looks around to see if Steve stayed, only to see him exiting the room with Robin. Robin’s softly rubbing his hand with her hands, like she’s comforting him. There’s a look on Steve’s face. It’s— concern? worry? But they’re already gone before Dustin can study it further.

After all of this, Dustin will put it on top priority to get those two together. Why they won’t just date, he never understood.

Eddie groans and silence overtakes the whole room. Dustin stares at him, quietly praying for his friend to finally wake up, for him to be okay. He just wants Eddie to be okay, he never intended for him to get dragged into this.

Eddie moans as he slowly moves, his eyes fluttering open and squinting at the bright light. Dustin can hear everybody holding their breath.

Eddie turns to Wayne. Stares at his Uncle for a second before he smiles. Suddenly, Dustin can finally breathe again. He watches as Eddie looks at every person in the room. Smiling and waving a small wave to everyone.

But his smile drops. Oh no.

“What’s wrong?” Dustin asks, as he moves closer to Eddie. The fear is already cruising through his veins.

Eddie turns to Nancy in alarm, “Steve?”

Nancy blinks back, confused, “What?”

He ignores the question. Turning to Wayne instead, “Wayne?”

Wayne nods, leaving a kiss on his head, “Calm down, boy. Give me a second.”

Wayne stands up and jogs out of the room.

“What’s wrong, Eddie?” Nancy asks, as Mike comes closer too. Dustin doesn’t know how to help but Eddie’s hand is shaking.

“We should call a doctor.” Lucas announces.

“No!” Eddie immediately answers, “No! I just want—“

The door springs open. It thuds against the wall with force. Steve moves closer to the bed, breathless as Robin and Wayne follow him in the room.

All the tension— They just— They just vanish from Eddie. He visibly melts into relief. His shoulders sagging in content, and he has this smile on his face. It’s… It’s a smile Dustin has never seen on his face. It’s small, but bright and full of adoration.

Eddie whispers something. Which Dustin thinks he hallucinates, or maybe he heard it wrong. But he turns to the others, and from the look on their faces he might’ve actually heard it right.

Eddie lifts his hand, beckoning Steve closer, and then he says it again, clearly and louder.

“Sweetheart.”

Steve blinks and in a surprising turn of events, he— he starts crying. Steve Harrington starts crying. Dustin didn't even see him cry after he was tortured by the Russians.

“You fucking idiot!” Steve glares at Eddie, “I told you not to be a hero! I told you not to be cute! I asked you for one thing! And you did it anyway! What if I didn’t get back in time? What if I wasn’t able to bring you to the hospital? You could’ve died! You almost died!”

Dustin gasps in anger. How could he do this? Eddie saved him! “Steve! Shut up!”

“No!” Steve turns to him. There’s tears streaming down his face. “This is between me and him.”

“Sweetheart.” Eddie calls out again, and his hand is still in the air waiting for— whatever he’s waiting for.

“I’m so sorry about him, Mr. Munson.” Dustin turns to Wayne, who shrugs at him. He looks entertained. Which is weird.

Steve sniffles, shaking his head, “No. Don’t sweetheart me, Edward fucking Munson.”

Eddie groans, “I did what I had to do.”

They stare at each other for a few more minutes as the room fills with uncomfortable silence.

“I am sorry.” Eddie finally whispers and Dustin wants to interrupt. He doesn’t have to apologize about anything. He did what he had to do.

Steve sniffles, “Good.”

Eddie does something he has never done in the entire time Dustin knows him.

Eddie (Edward apparently) Munson pouts.

“Now?” Eddie lifts up his hand again.

“Okay.” Steve whispers before…

Before intertwining their hands together. Steve sits on Eddie’s bedside, sweeping Eddie’s hair off his face. They’re acting like they’re the only people in this room. Maybe they think they are.

“I am glad you're okay, sweetheart.” Eddie says, a smile dancing on his face.

“Me? Of course, I am okay.” Steve replies. There’s a softness to his voice that Dustin’s never heard before. “Do you want me to call you a doctor, baby? Are you okay?”

“No, I just wanted to see if you’re okay. Just needed to know.” Eddie stares up at him, it comes out loopy but there’s a real spark of joy in his eyes.

Woah, alright. Steve moves closer and kisses Eddie— On the lips. Oh my god? Is Dustin dreaming? Is Vecna still alive and showing this to him?

“What the hell is happening?!” Mike demands, breaking the glass of peace they have, and making Steve pull away from Eddie immediately.

“Oh.” Steve breathes out. Like he’s just realizing that they were there. Dustin frowns as he sees Steve’s face contour from fear to sadness. Fear for what?

“Uh.” Steve stammers, looking back at Eddie who looks like he’s about to bite Mike on the arm.

“Steve and I are dating. Since the starcourt mall burned down.” Eddie finally explains, and Wayne immediately moves closer to them like— like he’s trying to protect Steve and Eddie. From what? From them? Instinctively, Robin moves to follow Wayne.

“Oh.” Someone says, maybe it was Nancy or maybe Mike.

Dustin blinks. He tries his best to absorb the news, but he can’t think straight with that devastated look on Steve’s face or that defensive look on Eddie’s. What’s wrong with them dating? Well, Dustin takes offense over the fact that Steve didn’t tell him but there’s nothing really wrong. Two boys—

Oh. Oh.

“Alright.” Dustin finally says, making everyone turn to him. He tries to make it sound as casual as possible, “Listen, congratulations. But I am angry that you both hid this from me.”

Lucas is nodding his head beside Dustin, “Dude. Really? Our dungeon master? Come on now, Steve. You could do better.” He teases, making Steve finally cough a tiny laugh.

Mike scoffs, “If there’s anyone that could do better, it would be Eddie. Really, Eddie? Steve? I can’t believe you fell for the Harrington Charm.”

Eddie sputters a response, but he’s too busy blushing to say anything.

“Instead of ice cream, I want insider information for the next campaign.” The room erupts into noises as Mike argues that Erica can’t do that, Eddie relaxes and says no one can have insider information. In the corner, Dustin sees Nancy hug Steve and say something into his ear.

Dustin lets his eyes wander and he meets Eddie’s eyes. Eddie smiles at him, nodding. It’s his way of thanking him.

They’ll talk later, and Eddie will get his own lecture from Dustin. Maybe a shovel talk for each of them. Not that they really need it, Steve looks at Eddie like he’s the creator of the universe and Eddie looks at Steve like he holds all the answers of the world. Perfect.

But he lets it be for now. Again, it’s been a hard few days. There’s nothing wrong with letting himself bask in this sliver of happiness and safety.