#stevexeddie

[emchant3d]

It’s the fourth time this week Eddie’s been late without a phone call.

Sure, his job has him working weird hours - Steve gets it. But he also knows his schedule and he knows the days Eddie works at the bar til close and he knows the days he’s supposed to be home before dark, and he hasn’t had a closing shift once this week. 

Yet he came home near ten tonight, and Steve had been worried and nervous and yes, sure, a little - a lot - insecure about it, and maybe he’d lashed out first, or maybe Eddie had, Steve doesn’t know, but he knows they’re standing in the living room shouting at one another and it’s all coming to a head and he can’t stop himself, can’t keep from getting loud and angry and–

"Do you even want to fucking be here?" he yells.

"Not when you're acting like this!" Eddie says, and Steve's throat goes tight like there's a fist wrapped around it. 

Not when he's acting like this, he thinks. Not when he's being too needy. Too pushy. Too demanding.

Something in his brain feels like it rewires. Their relationship flips on its head, and suddenly fear is coiling in Steve's stomach, not anger. 

He'll lose Eddie if he keeps pushing like this. If he demands too much of his time, pulls him away from what he'd rather be doing, makes himself too much work, he'll lose him. Eddie always said he wasn't going anywhere. That he loves Steve, wants to be with him, will never get tired of him. Steve was a fucking idiot to take that at face value.

He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to apologize, wants to tell Eddie to forget all about what he said, wants to show how sorry he is, but between one moment and the next he's feeling like a guest in his own home, and he's very familiar with how it feels to be unwelcome.

So instead he shakes his head. Eddie wants to be left alone, probably. Doesn't want to see Steve when he's mad at him. Doesn't want to deal with him. He'll make himself scarce.

"I'm staying in the guest room tonight," he says stiffly, and turns away, only faltering a little when Eddie mumbles 'what the fuck ever' behind him. He flinches when Eddie slams the front door and closes the spare room so quietly it barely even clicks.

– Eddie gets home late.

Like, late-late. Steve hears the front door open as he's staring at the clock on the bedside table, the bright red numbers burning into his vision. Why did they even put a fucking clock in here, he thinks. It's the guest room. Why did he insist on furnishing this room like someone might live in it? Like this was a home people would be in and out of, like their family would come and stay with them long enough to need an alarm clock on the bedside table?

Desperate, a voice in his head hisses at him, desperate and needy and full of wishful thinking that someone would want to stay around sad little Steve Harrington long enough to need anything--

Eddie's coming down the hallway. He's trying to be quiet, but he forgot to take his shoes off at the door and his Reeboks squeak a little against the hardwood. It's a familiar sound. Comforting, usually. It's how he knows his honey's made it home safe when he's out late, that tell-tale squeak and the little stumbles when he's tipsy and making his way through their home after a long gig.

There was no gig tonight, though, and Eddie's footsteps are steady and even despite the soft sound of rubber on wood. He isn't drunk, Steve doesn't think - and is that better or worse? That he left after a fight and didn't even go somewhere to drink it off. Where has he been, if not their usual bar to think about what they'd spat at one another, trying to think of solutions, of apologies?

And is Steve really owed an apology? He was overbearing. He was pushy. He was demanding and authoritative and too fucking much all over again, and Eddie lashed out in response, and does Steve deserve an apology after all that? He's been going around in circles with himself all evening about it, arguing in his own head, saying yes I deserve one because my feelings were hurt and no I don't deserve one because I lashed out first and how does he answer this for himself? He doesn't know.

He knows he'd do just about anything to make the empty feeling in his chest go away, though. Knows that he'd shove his hurt away and eat his words and apologize to Eddie and never, ever push again if it meant he knew where they stood. If it meant Eddie would forgive him and never storm out like that again, if it meant Steve knew he wouldn't be left alone like this to wonder if Eddie was coming back.

And he feels so dramatic - he can hear Robin's voice already, telling him it was just a fight, that there's no reason to get this worked up about it, but Steve can't help it. Slammed doors and loneliness are the soundtrack to his childhood and he can't help the panic he feels when someone he loves leaves.

"Do you want to be here?" he'd asked, like a fucking idiot, and Eddie hadn't said yes. Steve swallows around the lump that's taken up permanent residence in his throat. Reaches to swipe a hand over his face, rubbed raw, eyes burning with tears he won't let fall because what right does he have to cry? He brought this on himself. He always brings it on himself.

Eddie's feet are still squeaking their way slowly down the hallway, he's trying not to wake Steve - or is he just trying not to be noticed? Impossible, if Eddie Munson is in a room Steve is going to notice, how can he not? He's been yanked into that gravitational pull and there's no escape for him, not anymore, he's a moon circling around the solar system and Eddie is the sun, burning bright and pulling focus and what is Steve to do in the face of that?

He keeps his eyes fixed on the clock. Watches the display change when a minute's passed. Feels his heartbeat stutter when Eddie's shuffling, squeaking steps pause outside the guest room.

They keep a hall light on at night. It's on a dimmer, turned down way low, but neither of them do well with complete darkness. Too many nightmares, too many shadows haunting and hunting the both of them. Steve can see the muted glow of it from beneath the door.

He can also see when Eddie comes to a stop because his feet block that light. Two shadows in the doorframe, obscuring the soft haze of warm orange that creeps in a half-moon over the carpet, and Steve stops breathing. There's a soft shifting noise, fabric over wood, a gentle thunk when Eddie leans against the guest room door, and Steve almost calls out to him. Almost says I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please don't leave again, please don't leave me, but the words stick in his throat. Ball's in Eddie's court, as it should be when Steve fucked up so bad, when he tried to ruin it all, when he made Eddie so mad that he left when he promised Steve he would never do that. Eddie's a good man. Keeps his word. Steve's the problem, Steve is always the goddamn problem, always will be, ruins and stains everything he fucking touches–

The shadow disappears. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees lights popping behind his lids. Those shuffling squeaking steps continue their way down the hall. Steve feels like he's going to throw up but he didn't have dinner so there's nothing in his belly but bile and nothing comes up even though his throat is tight and his stomach is fucking rolling.

The bedroom door - their bedroom door - creaks on its hinges. Steve keeps meaning to put some WD-40 on it but he kind of likes that it makes a noise, that when he's asleep it's just loud enough to wake him halfway and tell him to anticipate the warm wash of tobacco and sandalwood that will cloud him when Eddie slips beneath the covers. Lets him know he's about to be grabbed and groped a little bit, sweet little kisses pressed to his shoulder and neck and jawline until he's got a face tucked into the curve of his throat, until he's giving a sleepy smile and winding his arms around a trim waist and dragging Eddie in close, sputtering and laughing tiredly as wild hair gets in his face and mouth before he falls asleep again, wrapped tight around the love of his life.

None of that tonight, apparently - and he doesn't blame him. No, he hears the bedroom door creak and it feels like a punishment that he deserves and his eyes burn and burn and burn and his face is wet now, he can't help it, and he wipes at it again angrily, takes the soft blanket to his face and why is it so soft why does Steve try so hard when he knows he won't get anything back why does he try to build a home when he's never had one and never will and is going to lose the one he's clawed onto so desperately and tried so hard to keep–

The door creaks again. Steve takes a stuttering breath. Eddie's steps are soft now as they come down the hallway, bare feet on the floor, almost silent as he creeps his way closer. Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches, anything to hold back the sounds he wants to make - he can't let Eddie hear him. He can't let Eddie know he's crying. That's manipulative, isn't it? Crying in front of the person he hurt? He won't do it, won't be that selfish, but that shadow appears at the base of the door again. Steve can't help the shaky inhale he takes, and it sounds so fucking loud in the quiet of the guest room, choked and echoing. 

"Baby?" Eddie says, voice low and quiet, rapping so gently against the door with one knuckle. "You in there, Stevie?" 

Just the sound of him is enough to send his heart crashing around in his ribcage, fluttering and jumping and making Steve tense. He wants to answer but he can’t get the words to form, his throat feels sealed shut, and he wonders if he should answer even if he were able because what could Eddie possibly have to say right now? It can’t be anything good and Steve doesn’t know if he can take it right now, in this room that makes him feel like a guest in his own home - but isn’t he always a guest? Isn’t that what he’s made to be, a temporary stop in everyone else’s story?

But he’s not ready for Eddie to move past him yet. Not tonight. Let it happen in the morning if it has to happen, let him put this off just a little longer. Just please, not tonight. Not yet.

But Eddie’s never been known for his patience, and the click of the latch has Steve slamming his eyes closed. Too late to roll over and hide his face, but he’s got enough time to duck down and tuck most of his features into a pillow. He tries to let his body relax, to let the tense lines of his muscles uncoil and his shoulders drop and his fists unclench, but he can’t tell if he’s managed it and the ache in his palms from his blunt nails tells him maybe he did, but it won’t help much.

Eddie makes his way across the carpet in silent steps, and the mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge of it. Steve’s fingers twitch to reach for him, but he just curls them into the sheets instead and hopes the motion looks absent enough to have happened in his sleep. 

He smells sandalwood and tobacco and feels the warmth from Eddie being so near but it feels like there’s a wall between them, one he can’t cross even if he tries, one he’s barred from so much as touching. 

He works hard to keep his breathing even but it’s hitching now and then despite his best efforts, shaky and too loud in the silent room, but he keeps up the charade even though the end of it all is perched right in front of him. And it’s Eddie who puts an end to it. It was always Eddie who was going to put an end to it.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve squeezes his eyes tighter like that’ll make it untrue, like he can just drift off in a second if he wills it hard enough. Eddie shifts on the mattress, and Steve curls tighter into himself. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” Steve bites his tongue so hard he thinks he might taste blood. It’s that simple for Eddie - but it’s always simple, isn’t it? Cut and dry, plain as day, Steve is the only one who can never see it coming, it’s written on the goddamn walls for everyone else.

He risks peeking through his lashes but Eddie’s got his back to him so it doesn’t even matter, not really. Eddie isn’t looking at him and so Steve allows himself to look, takes in the hunch of Eddie’s shoulders, the curve of his spine beneath his thin pajama shirt - he’d changed, when he’d made his way through their creaky bedroom door, took off his clothes and put his pajamas on and kicked off those tennis shoes, they’re probably in a pile at the foot of the bed for Steve to trip over and he will miss tripping over them, he’ll miss it terribly.

He wonders if he’ll need to move. If he’ll have to find a new place and separate out all of their things into his things, if SteveAndEddie’sStuff will become Steve’s stuff and Eddie’s stuff. Or maybe he’ll just start staying in this guest room, maybe that’s why he furnished this room so completely, because somehow he knew he’d end up alone in it.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and Steve inhales sharply.

“Don’t,” he says, and somehow he keeps his voice steady.

“So you are awake,” Eddie says, and he tries to sound teasing, sound playful, but it drops like a stone in this space between them. No room for levity in the dark cloud Steve’s filled this room with. He wishes he could be easygoing and let go gently, but it’s Eddie - in what world could he take losing him graciously?

“Yeah,” he says, and he stares at Eddie’s back as the other raises his head, but he still doesn’t turn to look at Steve, and he wishes he could at least look him in the face when he rips his heart out of his chest.

part 2

[littleststarfighter]

@xxfiction-is-my-realityxx asked for Steve and Eddie hugging from behind, and an anon asked for kissing. So much like the 80′s I mixx-taped them both together for a cute kiss from behind ;P

[joseph-munson]

Eddie: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Steve: Seize the day, seize the night, what’s the last one?

Eddie: Seize this dick.

[little-annie]

They have to tell them. They have to tell Dustin. They have to tell Robin. They have to tell the kids.

Over the last week, while lying in bed curled into each other, while eating breakfast pressed as close as they could manage, while snuggled up for yet another movie night, they talked about it, discussed how they'd break the news to everyone.

They knew Robin would be easy, accepting, because, well, the whole lesbian platonic soul mate of it all.

They had a hunch Will would feel some sense of relief, belonging, acceptance in himself and they hoped the young Wheeler would experience the same.

They knew it'd be okay, but there was always that itching nerve of anxiety saying, 'What if?' 'What if it's not okay.' 'What if it's really not okay and they'll never see any of their little nuggets again because they're too disgusted to even look them in the eye?'

But they had to tell them. No two ways about it. They had to tell them or someone was going to find out on their own and shit would hit the fan.

But firstly, they have to tell Dustin.

So here they sit in the Harrington house, Steve and Eddie side by side on the couch mere inches apart as Dustin sits on the coffee table in front of them, waiting and impatient.

"So? What was it you two were wanting to tell me?"

The two eldest boys turn to look at each other.

Steve, nerves evident on his face, brow furrowed, cheeks tinting red, bottom lip worried between his teeth, he sighs, shakey, scared and too fucking nervous.

And without even thinking, without even caring that Dustin's literally a foot in front of them, Eddie reaches out. Because he has to, because his boy is scared and it's crushing him to not be holding him right now. His ringed hand moves to Steve's thigh, giving a gentle squeeze before shifting his grip to take Steve's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together.

Steve tenses for a moment, eyes flashing to Dustin before he looks to Eddie and visibly relaxes, shifting closer, thigh now pressed to Eddie's, slouching with relief.

Dustin's eyes are wide, darting between the two men and their clasped hands. They can see the nerves creeping into his expression and suddenly this feels so much harder but before they can manage words, Dustin speaks, "Oh my god, is someone dying? Are one of you dying? Steve, do you have butt cancer? Oh my god. Oh my god, you're dying."

The kid shakes his head, hand moving to remove his hat and tug at his curls, " We can't do this shit without you. We'd be a wreck. You're like the best thing that's happened to us. You're like the Party's weird mom. You're getting treatment right? Is it going okay? Is Eddie driving you? Eddie, are you driving him? Are you taking care of him? Please say you're taking care of him."

The two men look between each, their clasped hands, Dustin and his expression that's nearing tears. They're speechless. They try to speak only to be interrupted. "I'm moving in, I'll help, I'll cook, I'll clean. Well, Eddie can cook and clean and I'll keep you company. Be the comedic relief. We can plan your funeral together. Do you want to be cremated? Or a rotting corpse in the ground for all the rodents to eat? Do you-"

"Dustin," Eddie carefully speaks

"Do you want me to-"

"Dustin," Steve repeats his boyfriend's words

"Shut up I'm talki-"

"We're dating!" Steve and Eddie both say with a shout, lifting their joined hands shaking them in Dustin's face

The kid cocks his head to the side, brow raised in question, "So Steve's not dying?"

"No"

"And you're together?"

"Yes?" Steve says like he's not entirely sure. Which is dumb. Because he is. But he's still nervous of how Dustin is going to handle this type of news. It's not 'Butt Cancer' (Jesus Christ this kid,) nothing even close, but it's still news. Unexpected and scary to reveal.

"Are you asking me?"

"Would it be okay if we were?" Eddie, somehow the calm voice of reason in this situation

Dustin almost seems offended at the moment, a weird look of shock appearing on his face only just now, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Um, because that's gay?" Steve says, watching Dustin grimace at the remark

"And?"

"You're fine with that?"

"Well, Steve, does Eddie treat you well?"

Steve nods, kinda baffled by the whiplash of this whole conversation

"And Eddie, does Steve treat you well?"

"Yeah,"

"Well then, it's fine." Dustin slaps his hands to his thighs standing up from his position on the coffee table, a teasing smirk on his face, "Congratulations I guess. Just don't get Steve pregnant."

Eddie cackles while Steve sputters "That can't ev-"

Totally ignoring the pair still seated on the couch, Dustin is already making his way to the front door with Steve's keys in hand, "Now, how about the arcade?"

[ignoremyworld]

Mute!eddie and interpreter!steve

Eddie finally got off his shift at the mechanic and went to this little bakery next to his shop. Walking in he could smell the fresh bread and pastries. Looking behind the counter he saw the absolute drop dead gorgeous man he’s ever laid his eyes on. Walking up to the counter the man saw him and walked over.

“Welcome in! What can I get for you?” Reading his name tag, Steve, said.

Eddie brings his phone out and typed something into his notes app

‘Can I get a loaf of sourdough and a few croissants?’

Steve looks at the phone and then back up at Eddie and signs

‘I know sign so there’s no need to type. I’ll get that out for you’

Eddie smiles, pays and walks to a table to sit and relax.

“Robin, robin, look. He’s the guy I was telling you about” Steve calls.

Curious Eddie looks over to see Steve talking to what he assumes is a coworker of his. Robin.

“He doesn’t seem that attractive to me.” Robin says, eyeing Eddie up and down.

“That’s because you’re a lesbian rob. I however appreciate men in their beauty. Especially ones that beautiful” steve looks over and waves.

Putting his hair over his face to try to hide his blush he waves back.

“Im gonna put my number in the bag so maybe he’ll call me” steve giggles.

A few minutes later steve comes up to Eddie to tell him his order is all packed up and ready to go.

‘Hi! Your order is ready and it’s right over there’ he signs smiling.

Eddie smiles back and walks up to get the bag. Before he leaves he turns to steve and signs ‘I heard what you said cutie, I’m mute, not deaf. I’ll definitely call you later handsome’

Steve, wide eyed, freezes. His face is red as he watches Eddie leave the store and get in his car.

“Nice job steve-o, finally got yourself a date” Robin says, elbowing steve in the side.

Steve smiles and says “yeah. A date.”

Sorry if this is a bit shit I’m still learning to write. If anyone has any advice I’m all ears! :3

[antheia]

Chapstick Steddie brainrot

Steve actually likes that Eddie smokes. Robin says it’s gross and he’s gross for liking it, but whatever. Robin isn’t the one kissing him. 

He likes that Eddie smells like tobacco and leather and sweat and motor oil (and sometimes weed). He likes sharing a cigarette with Eddie in bed late at night, wrapped in cheap cotton sheets, an ashtray perched on one of their chests. He loves the way Eddie’s eyes shimmer in the flames when Steve lights a cigarette for him.

Really the only problem Steve has is the way it dries Eddie’s lips out. And this is a totally solvable problem. Steve knows it’s solvable. He himself has solved it. But maybe Eddie never had to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with Becky Molinczek in the eighth grade. Which was more like ten seconds of awkward kissing followed by five minutes of Becky lecturing him about the importance of lip care in making out while digging around in her purse for chapstick only to produce a cherry lip smacker she then demanded he put on if he wanted any more time in Heaven. 

That was the first time he’d touched an honest-to-God boob. Her left one. He was pretty sure it was mostly boob and only a little tissue. He still gets a semi when he smells fake cherries. 

—

He figures he’ll start subtly: making sure to put on some chapstick in front of Eddie after they stub out their smokes to head back into the Wheeler house. He smiles at Eddie, who leans in and murmurs “mmm, shiny” before stealing a kiss. Completely ignoring the black and white plastic tube Steve has proffered. 

—

For two weeks, Steve leaves chapsticks everywhere he can think of. There’s one currently melting in Eddie’s glove box. Another one is gathering dust on Eddie’s nightstand. He’d held his breath hopefully when Eddie’s hand alighted on the one in his guitar case, but he was moving it aside in search of a pick. Hell, Steve had even tucked one in the pocket of Eddie’s denim jacket when he kissed him goodnight last Friday. 

Eddie was impervious to subtlety. It was time to go full Molinczek. 

— 

Steve had Thursdays off, so he and Eddie had started having movie nights on Wednesdays. He honestly couldn’t remember the end of a single movie they’d chosen. The doorbell rang just as Steve is putting popcorn on the coffee table. 

Steve waits until Eddie is settled in, then climbs into his lap. Eddie holds him by the hips and grins. “Okay, Harrington. I guess we’re not gonna watch the movie after all.” 

Steve ignores him, leaning in for a kiss. While he’s got Eddie distracted, he reaches into the pocket of the jacket Eddie had haphazardly thrown across the back of the couch and produces a small plastic tube. Opening the lid, he breaks away from the kiss. 

“This, Edward, is Chapstick.” Eddie looks at him like he’s deranged. 

“Uh huh.” 

“It’s for your lips,” Steve continues, applying it to his own lips liberally. 

“I’m familiar.” 

“And you know, smoking really chaps your lips,” Steve levels a look at him, holding his eyes for a moment before leaning in to plant a deep kiss on Eddie’s mouth, spreading the balm across Eddie’s lips. 

When they finally break apart, Eddie grins up at him. “Please, for the love of god and my mouth, wear it.” 

“Only if that’s always how I get to apply it.” 

Steve rolls his eyes and starts to say something, but it’s cut off when Eddie yanks him forward and kisses him again. 

The point’s probably been made. 

[kennahjune]

HI OMG HELLO

Just a little obsessed with the whole “projecting my interests onto Steve” train I have going so here ya go—

Steve who has an interest in mythology of just about any kind but specifically Greek Mythology because “holy shit everyone’s gay.”

Steve’s hosting the usual Saturday hangout at his house because it’s the one time everyone’s schedules line up. He’s sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, Robin on the floor to his right and Dustin to his left. Everyone else is spread among the couches and armchair, squeezing together in a way that seems more uncomfortable and over heated than the Devil’s asscrack.

Dustin was going on a ramble about something science-y. Robin and Mike would cut in occasionally with their own arguments and begin a whole new debate. Steve wasn’t paying much attention though.

His focus was on Eddie, who was staring intently at the living room window. Specifically the one that held his mothers flower vases.

When there was a break in the argument where everyone caught their breaths and gathered their thoughts, Eddie struck.

“What kind of flowers are those?” He pointed at the light yellow vase with a complicated floral pattern.

Steve paused and debated answering. He knew it was a trap. The flowers in that vase held a long story— one that everyone in the room would be subjected to hearing if Steve couldn’t help himself.

But Eddie was looking at his expectantly, Dustin tilting his head in curiosity, and even Mike eyeing him with a genuine wonderment.

So, Steve naturally conceded. “They’re hyacinths.”

Argyle whistled lowly. “Pretty name.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah well— they get their name from one of the prettiest people in history. In my opinion anyway.”

That seemed to pique everyone’s interest. Bad move on Steve’s part. At this rate, he’s gonna crack and go on a rant. Nobody wants to listen to his rants.

“Who do they get their name from?” Will asked, pulling his feet up to sit crisscross on the armchair. Mike was sat right next to him on the seat, squished into the arm but making no complaints. Mike nodded at Will’s question, as if agreeing that he also wanted to know.

Steve shifted and pulled one leg to his chest, resting his arm on it and fiddling with his hands. He avoided eye contact with just about anyone, before cracking a little more and looking at Robin.

With the nod she gave him, Steve felt himself break.

“They get their name from the Roman Prince Hyacinthus.”

Nancy hummed and took a sip from her Coke. She waved her hand as if urging him on. Steve continued.

“Um— well Hyacinthus was a Roman Prince beloved by all, including the God Apollo—“

“But isn’t Apollo a guy?” Mike interrupted. Looking over, Steve saw the pure curiosity and something that looked like hesitation on his face. Next to Mike, Will looked equally if-not-more hesitant but also very happy (?).

Steve allowed himself a small grin and nodded. “He is indeed. Hyacinthus is actually the first openly gay Greek character that we know of.” Steve’s smile brightened at the grin that made itself present on Will’s face and look of pure endearment on Mike’s.

“Anyways— Apollo fell in love with Hyacinthus but so did Zephyros, the God of the West Winds. Hyacinthus chose Apollo over Zephyros, however. And one day while Apollo and Hyacinthus were being all couple-y or whatever in the fields and playing discus, Zephyros took advantage of the winds and sent a discus spiraling straight at Hyacinthus and it ended up killing him on impact.”

He paused to take a breath, the story taking hold of him. Steve could feel the rush of excitement at finally talking about it— this story was his favorite and the next part always got him.

Among his break, he looked up and started at Eddie’s eyes on him. Of course, everyone’s eyes were on him, but Eddie’s shone with such a fondness that Steve felt himself having to do a minor breathing exercise to calm his heart down.

He cleared his throat with a cough and picked up where he left off, tilting his eyes down and keeping them on his fidgeting hands.

“Well— um, it was typical ‘if I can’t have you no one can’ fashion but the death shook Apollo to his very core and after trying everything in his power to get Hyacinthus back he finally gave in and grew the hyacinth flowers from the grass wherever Hyacinthus’ blood touched ‘to keep him in the sun where he belonged’.”

And with that, Steve looked around at everyone in the room. El’s eyes were filled with wonderment. Sitting next to her, Max looked shocked— though, at the story or Steve, he was unsure.

Jonathan had a small smile playing at his lips as well as Nancy. Argyle gave him a thumbs up and a “cool”.

Mike and Will were both seemingly buzzing with excitement and joy, Steve could see it in their eyes and on the matching grins they wore.

Dustin and Lucas— the latter sitting behind Steve on the couch— we’re both grinning at Steve and talking over each other, trying to tell him several different things at once.

But over the chaos surrounding him, Steve’s eyes were drawn to Eddie’s. Doe eyes filled with fondness and endearment. Steve’s grin turned to a bashful smile and he was quick to turn away.

He instead focused on Dustin and Lucas, pretending to not notice when Will followed Mike to the kitchen. From the knowing glint in Jonathan’s eyes, he also knew what was happening. They shared a snort and cheersed their Coke cans.

When the night was over and Steve was fresh out of mythology tales to tell the Party, everyone began leaving.

Mike, Will, and El left with Jonathan and Argyle. Nancy drove Robin, Dustin, Lucas and Erica as well as Max— who was spending the night at the Sinclair’s.

It was when Steve went to clean the living room that he noticed he never saw Eddie leave.

Instead, the metal head was standing by the window in the living room. The same window with the hyacinths. Steve furrowed his brow in confusion and walked over.

The moment Steve was within reaching distance, Eddie pulled him into his side. Steve let out an ‘oof’ sound, and caught himself on Eddie’s chest. Rather than pulling away from the other, Steve made himself comfortable and settled into Eddie’s side with his head on his shoulder.

“I love hearing you ramble,” was the last thing Steve heard before Eddie kissed him soundly.

[windlass262]

This is therapy 🕯🌒✨

[digital-squirrel]

Let's say Eddie DOES survive, right? Him and Steve are getting along really well, skirting the line between REALLY GREAT FRIENDS to MMMMMAYBE BOYFRIENDS? Now the year is 1987 and this absolute BANGER by Rick Astley comes out on the radio.

You cannot tell me Steve Harrington isn't ready to belt his whole heart of 'Never Gonna Give You Up' to a completely stunned, slightly embarrassed but still in awe, Eddie Munson.

[miryel89]

[miserablekingsteve]

A romcom au that no one asked for that will be multiple parts, the hook line being; Was Eddie Munson ready to be Steve Harrington’s wing man? Hell no. Had he somehow promised this to Steve? Absolutely. With Steve being who he was, somehow he was going to help Eddie find a date too. Unbeknownst to the former king, the person Eddie wanted was right there.

Look, if someone told Eddie he would be turned away from every job he applied for 6 months ago—sure he would’ve laughed. But because he was a third year senior with loads of petty crimes logged in the Hawkins police bank. Not because he was a ‘once believed satanic murderer turned messiah’. It was ever more frustrating than the petty theft shit and all that. The pitying looks and the—

“Alright, Munson. I let you drink here for free the first couple of times but I’m running a tab now,” Jen, the lovely lovely bar maid cut him off mid tangent. Guilt overrid his gut and he sighed, she was right, after all of it, she wasn’t paid to listen to his pity party.

“Well, that was your first mistake, Jen,” Eddie swirled the dead foam in his beer, “never let a man drink for free. Ever.”

“Lest a naive little girl like me never make that mistake again,” Jen rolled her eyes while she dried a glass. He grinned at her, sucking back the last bits of free beer.

“You’re anything but, Jen. But I think you already knew that,” Eddie blindly searched for his jacket under the bar so he could take on the walk to his new government enstated hole.

“Don’t worry, next rounds on me,” A very familiar voice said from Eddie’s right.

“The worlds not ending anymore. I don’t need you swooping in to save me like a knight in shining armour, Harrington.”

There the former King was leaning against the bar with a soft smirk painted on his lips. He was decked out in a nice grey blouse which was tucked into his usual tight Levi’s, the dim bar light hitting the streaks of blond which had formed from the summer sun.

“Yeah, well, just this once?” Steve formed it almost as a question, eyes big and yearning. Eddie let out a long winded sigh and dropped his coat back on the hook.

“You got me,” Damn, this wasn’t the first time Steve came and found him in a place of vulnerability. It was annoying and very persistent. Eddie only allowed himself to say no 3 times, and he still hadn’t cashed in on any of those.

“And, just like that ladies and gentlemen. The paper man crumbles. You’re all theatrics, Eddie,” Steve whistled, a jovial grin plastered on his dumb pretty face, “Don’t let these hardened workers see that, they’ll ravage you alive.

There was a pause before he barked out a laugh as Steve pointedly looked between both of their torsos. Jen curiously eyed them up, before dropping their new beers on fresh coasters and promptly left them alone.

“So, what brings you to the Hideout of all places, Steve?” Eddie grasped the pint with a clammy hand, an excuse to do something with his nervous limbs.

“Oh, you know. I heard a really good band plays here sometimes,” Steve grinned, before his wall faltered and he looked wistfully at his own beer, “I, actually was supposed to meet a date here. Got stood up, I guess.”

“Damn, that rut is ever present, eh?”

Eddie’s stool rattled from where Steve kicked the legs. He flipped Steve off around his glass, taking a large gulp hiding the smirk that fought its way onto his lips.

The younger man sighed and leaned back, “Yeah, it’s so weird, man. In high school I never had this much trouble, like I’d at least get one date under my belt, yknow.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “Actually, no. I don’t know.”

Steve turned and looked at him in confusion, a hot blush spread over Eddie’s cheeks after he realized the hole he dug himself into.

“You mean to tell me, that Eddie Munson, Jean vest, ripped jeans and suave cool guy. Has never been on a date?”

Against Eddie’s will, the flush on his cheeks flared, fighting for nonchalance he chuckled into his hand, deciding what to lay bare for Steve, “Ahem, yeah. Not many people I’ve-uh-been interested in. Well, not here anyway.”

A look of disbelief crossed Steve’s face, but he shrugged in understanding, “I guess… I get it?”

Eddie erupted into laughter, shaking out his curls, “Hey, thanks for trying at least.”

Comfortable silence fell over the two men as they sat, nursing their respective beers. Eddie tried to keep a hold on the erratic laughter that threatened to pool out into the bar. What? Was he just supposed to outwardly just tell Steve he appreciated the company of men. With the musk, sweat, and usually disgusting habits the same sex tended to participate in. Not the soft, flush skin of a woman. Yeah, he was able to see the beauty of a woman. But there was something about the coarse hair of a treasure trail that made Eddie’s collar tighten.

“Sooo, what’s your type, Munson?”

Aw fuck was Steve for real. Eddie thought, eyes widening, the grip on his beer almost painful.

“Oh, yknow, brunettes with a bit of a bitch underneath.”

Steve laughed at that, nodding his head in agreement. No recognition of the fact T hat steve fit the bill almost too perfectly.

“I get it, I’d say I’m in the same boat,” Steve threw back, a grin spreading secretly over his lips.

Now, Eddie had since given up on his little crush on Steve long ago, but even with his high school days far behind him, he was still appreciative of the man. He let his eyes trail down the side of Steve’s face and focused on the two moles that were tucked secretly under his jaw.

“Well, I don’t know what idiot you got stood up by but she doesn’t deserve you,” Eddie stated. A snort came from Steve and he shook his head, “Nah, stop doing that man. You’re under selling yourself. Come on, try whatever you did with her on me. I’ll give you some tips!”

Careful where you put your foot, Munson.

Thankfully, Steve seemed interested in his idea, straightening out his back and turning to face Eddie head on. Okay, strong start. It was good.

“Hey, you’ve got pretty good taste in movies—,”

Eddie cut Steve off before he continued, “Ah, ah, ah. See that’s your problem, don’t pick up chicks at work, it’s Family Video, for fucks sake!”

Steve floundered but Eddie held up his hand to stave off the earful he knew the man wanted to give him, “No, here. You may meet them at work, but don’t ask them out there! You can’t gauge anything from the interaction, especially at Family Video.”

“Oh, yeah sure. You know where to pick up chicks, Mr. I’ve never been on a date.”

“Touché,” Eddie nodded, “I may not have a bunch of chicks in my phone book. But at least I have common sense.”

“Hey!”

“Dude, it’s true! Not only do you have Robin breathing over your shoulder, %100 scaring away your ‘conquests’. But on the off chance she’s not there, you’ve got Creepy Keith. Start going out and doing things.”

Steve almost interrupted him but then shut his mouth quickly at the mention of Keith, “Yeah you’ve got a point. But where do I go, where it’s not like overbearing and verging on creep behaviour.”

“Now, I actually can help you there,” Eddie smirked and lifted his beer to take a long swig, “I still have my side business, and with the start of summer, I’ve got loads of jobs lined up. You should come?”

Eddie’s stomach did a backflip at the way Steve’s face lit up like a god damn candle.

“Dude are you serious? That would be amazing,” Eddie laughed at his enthusiasm.

“Now, I gotta figure out some way to help you,” Steve’s brow furrowed, deep in thought. Shit, Eddie wasn’t prepared for that response.

“Ehh, don’t sweat it man, that’s what friends do.”

“Exactly! And I wanna help you. Get you one date, at least!” Steve proclaimed, eyes filled with excitement.

Eddie crumpled under the look. Because he’d actually love to go on a date, have someone take him out to a show or something, “Pfft, fine. Twist my arm, Harrington.”

“Okay. I come out to parties with you to find dates—instead of family video—and I help you, uh, find out how and who you want to take out. Deal?”

Eddie eyed Steve’s outstretched hand nervously, before smiling and smacking his own palm into the bond, “Deal!”

They grinned at each other, throwing back the last drags of their beers, Jen called out last call and Steve dropped a couple of bills on the bar.

“Alright, I’ll stop by to give you details on the whereabouts of my illegal handlings,” Eddie shoved an arm through the worn leather sleeve of his jacket.

“See ya then, Munson,” Steve grinned, hands shoved into those stupid blue jeans, “I look forward to it.”

Shit.

Steve sauntered out of the bar, a little bit more pep in his step than when he’d hunched in next to Eddie. What the fuck was he doing?

“You alright, kid?” Jen asked, many questions left on her tongue.

Eddie rubbed a hand over his face abrasively, “Yeah, yeah. Definitely.”

Stay tuned for the next part 😉

[emchant3d]

part 2 of the steddie fight steve whump - now with as-promised eddie whump 💕 part 1 here

Eddie isn’t a good man.

Steve thinks he is, Eddie knows. He says it all the time. Eddie thinks that good men don’t need to be announced as good men, that their goodness is obvious enough without anyone pointing it out, but he doesn’t want to argue about it with Steve. He hates when Eddie doesn’t see himself like Steve sees him, so he just does his best to be the person Steve thinks he is.

He did a spectacularly shitty job of that today.

He took it too far. Cut too deep. Knew it the second the words came out of his mouth, didn’t even need to see the color drain from Steve’s face as the blow landed, but he was treated to the sight anyway. He watched the angry flush fade into a sickly pale pallor as those long pretty lashes fluttered and that plush mouth parted in surprise, in shock, before Steve’s jaw had snapped shut so hard his teeth clacked.

And then it was gone. As quickly as the hurt had been written all over Steve’s face, it disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Eddie hates when he does that, when he hides how he feels and refuses to share his hurt and sadness with Eddie, but can he blame him for concealing it? Can he demand to be shown it when he’s the one who put that expression on Steve’s face in the first place?

And the worst of it is - he’d felt a sick kind of satisfaction at the sight. And he hates himself for it now, with hindsight and self-awareness, feels disgusting for the way he’d reveled in the sense of victory he’d felt. He’d won. He’d hurt Steve and he’d won the argument by doing so, at least that round of it, had stopped their back and forth with one sentence, and he’d seen him fold in on himself and go ice-cold in a way Steve hasn’t been with him in a long, long time, maybe ever, not since they started this whole thing between them.

He’d taken the win while he had it, heard Steve say something about the guest room and rolled his eyes, Steve can be so dramatic when they fight. He’d turned tail and done the worst thing he could have fucking done, can’t even claim hindsight for this one because he’d known even as he was doing it that leaving then, when he’d been asked what he’d been asked and answered like he’d answered - he’d known it was cruel. Known it was salt in the wound, and he’d ground it in with a perverse satisfaction, slammed the door behind him and everything.

He took a couple walks around the block, chain-smoked half a pack of cigarettes, debated going to Gareth’s to rant and ramble and try to get somebody on his side even though he knows Gareth likes Steve more than he likes Eddie some days - his boy is too charismatic for his own good, won over all of Eddie’s friends with the slightest bit of effort.

He sat on the fucking curb and lost track of time quick, watched the darkening sky deepen until it was black and the streets were barren and his hands were frozen, until he’d thought himself into and out of every scenario possible, until all that was left to do was admit to himself how badly he fucked up.

Anger kept the guilt from setting in immediately, because he’d been so angry, so furious with Steve for - for–

He can’t even pick out what in particular pissed him off so much, and isn’t that rich? Because deep down, he wasn’t angry. Not really.

He was terrified.

Eddie’s been distant lately, he knows. He’s been taking more gigs and staying out later after them, he’s been working more shifts, he’s been hanging out with the band and saying he has ‘practice’ when really they’re just sitting around getting high and wasting time. Sometimes he doesn’t even give an excuse, just turns up late and acts like he can’t see the mix of worry-anger-hurt painted all over Steve’s face, he just wraps him up in his arms and covers his face with kisses and acts like they’re fine, like there’s not a tightness squeezing his heart so hard he’s afraid it’ll stop beating altogether.

He’s been pushing it too much. Disappearing too often. But he just doesn’t know how to explain it - the fear that settles bone-deep in him when he thinks about how happy he is for too long. If there’s one thing Eddie’s life has taught him, it’s that happiness and safety - all that shit is temporary. He’ll lose it eventually. It’ll get damaged somehow, he’ll piss someone off or do something wrong, he’ll break the delicate balance that’s afforded him a safety net and that net will disappear, and he’ll be left in a free-fall and forced to pick up his own shattered pieces when he lands, alone and hurt and starting all over yet again.

He’s so, so tired of starting over. 

So he’s been trying to…delay the inevitable, maybe. If he’s not around, Steve can’t be tired of him, right? And that’s not fair to Steve either, but Eddie’s selfish at the best and worst of times and he’s been prioritizing getting himself through this, has switched to survival mode so thoroughly that he’s not been able to recognize the only threat he’s trying to protect himself from is him.

Self-sabotage is a habit that’s deeply ingrained in Eddie. It’s the only thing he knows sometimes, the defense mechanism that feels like coming home, but when you grew up in a home like he did, sometimes familiarity isn’t safe, not like it should be.

It blinds him to everything and everyone, makes it so he doesn’t recognize he’s even doing it until it’s too late. Until he’s pushing everyone away and hurting the people he loves, until the person he loves most in the world is standing in front of him and yelling in their living room asking if Eddie wants to be here with him.

And that’s another thing, isn’t it? Of course Eddie wants to be with Steve. Of course he wants the comfort that comes with loving someone and being loved, but he can’t deny that that’s terrifying in its own right - that the idea of being tethered to something freaks him the fuck out. And he knows, he knows that’s part of the whole avoidance thing too - his heart searching for freedom where it can find it, loving Steve but being terrified of Steve at the same time, of what he means, of that string that keeps them together always, no matter what.

Usually the thought of that is wonderful and welcome and fantastic. Sometimes it’s something he absolutely cannot think about. And that leads him right back here, not fucking thinking and leaving Steve alone and acting like he’s done nothing wrong when he knows damn well he’s the fucking problem here.

Steve was yelling because Eddie hadn’t considered him. Eddie hadn’t thought of Steve, or his life with Steve, and Steve was angry about it. And he had every right to be. But all Eddie could see, could feel, had been a noose around his neck, a tie to something - to someone that felt like it was taking control.

Eddie had panicked, and he did what he does best - he ran.

Scorched earth, feet to the ground, bolted away from the issue the best he knew how, let himself sit in that self-appointed righteousness of finding an escape except he’d run from the one thing, the one person, he’d promised never to run from.

This is the downside of loving someone you know inside and out. This is the result of baring his soul to Steve and having Steve bare his back - he’s seen the delicate, vulnerable bits of that man and knows exactly where to strike.

Regret eats at him. How could he say that to Steve? How could he do this to Steve? Eddie knows his temper is mercurial at the best of times, knows his moods can change with the weather, but there’s no excuse for allowing them and his fear to take over like they had. It’s something he has to work on, he’s known it for a while, but this is the final nail in the coffin.

He’d thought he was past the worst of this, of his anxiety eating him alive and taking things from him, thought interdimensional monsters and almost dying and falling in love in the aftermath of it all meant that the mundane normal life shit would be easy, but the universe does so love to prove Eddie Munson wrong.

There’s nothing in the world worth losing Steve over. And sure, Eddie can be a coward, has cowardice in his goddamn blood some days, but if there’s anything worth being brave over, it’s the man waiting for him at home right now.

This is fixable, he tells himself. He’ll apologize. He’ll grovel and make it up to Steve and he’ll be glued to his goddamn side for the rest of their fucking lives if that’s what it takes. Anything to show him that Eddie didn’t mean it.

He wanders his way home with his metaphorical tail between his legs, hoping that he’s right - because Steve would be well within his rights to be tired of his shit by now. Steve would be more than justified in calling it quits over this - because it isn’t just one fight. This one fight was a culmination of issues and he sealed the deal with a fucking calculated attack and he has no idea what he’s about to come home to, not really, he’s just hoping that home still feels like home when he walks in the door, and he only needs Steve for that.

He doesn’t know what time it is when he makes it in. Just knows that the apartment is dark and shadowy and the only light in the place is in the hall, so he doesn’t call out to Steve. 

For a moment he’s terrified that maybe Steve isn’t here, maybe he left, but he knows that’s his modus operandi, not Steve’s, and besides, the guest room door is closed. He remembers what Steve had said, stone-faced and monotone, ‘I’m staying in the guest room tonight,’ and Eddie hates that Steve isn’t in their bed, but at least he’s here. Hopefully he’s asleep - and he feels like a piece of shit for hoping for it because he knows he just wants to avoid this conversation, even if Steve getting some rest would be a good thing. His baby doesn’t sleep too well. Neither of them do.

He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up by the door, forgets to take his shoes off like always and desperately, desperately hopes that Steve will still be willing to bitch at him for it in the morning.

His heart is a stone that’s sunk down to his stomach. He doesn’t have words, had tried to craft something pretty to say on the walk home, but his theatrics won’t help him now and his sincerity is drowning in his guilt and he doesn’t know how to fix this. How does he apologize for this? Not just the fight today, but all of it? He’s got nothing but he knows he can’t let this sit like this, can’t stand it, can’t leave the two of them in this limbo and abandon Steve to whatever awful thoughts are swimming around in that pretty head.

He knows Steve. He knows his fears, his insecurities. He knows he hit them all like a fucking bullseye with a single sentence and the rest of his actions would have taken him down the rest of the way.

He left. He’s spent so long promising Steve that’s the one thing he would never do, that he’s a runner but never from Steve, and yet he’s slinking his way through their apartment after doing exactly that, hesitant and quiet as he can be but he’s terrible at being quiet, and he winces at the volume of the thunk that sounds when he pauses in front of the guest room and leans on the closed door.

He can’t hear Steve through it, but that doesn’t mean much - he could be lying awake, hoping Eddie just continues his path down the hall, hoping to be left alone and spared the groveling that Eddie knows he has to do. Could be that Steve doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to deal with him, just wants some peace after all the shouting they’d done earlier. Eddie wouldn’t begrudge him that.

But a bigger part of him, a worried part of him, knows that it’s unlikely.

No, the bigger part of him, the bit of him that’s tied to Steve Harrington’s heart, knows with almost certainty that Steve is lying on that unfamiliar bed wide awake. He knows he’s hurting, knows he’s upset, knows he wishes that Eddie would just come in and fix things. 

He presses his forehead to the door like he can transfer his thoughts through osmosis - he thinks it’s osmosis, he isn’t sure, science was the least strong of his not-strong suits, okay - and have Steve just know everything he wants to tell him, and then he shuffles the rest of the way down the hall to buy himself some time.

He changes into pajamas as he goes over everything he wants to say, trying to work it into something coherent and level-headed, but at this point he’s debating just falling to his knees and begging Steve to not leave him, which, well - he’s had worse ideas.

He doesn’t want to lose Steve. But he knows he might. Has to accept that as a possibility. Has to face that and resist the urge to deny it, to own that he’s royally fucked up and might lose the most important person in the world to him, even if the very idea makes him want to rip his heart out of his goddamn chest.

Call him dramatic. It doesn’t make it less true.

He pads his way back down the hall, the familiar orange glow from the dimmed light less a comfort and more like he’s walking down to a fucking gate to hell, and comes to a stop outside the guest room. He takes a breath, braces himself, and then raises a hand, knocking gently.

“Baby? You in there Stevie?” he asks, and he doesn’t get an answer, but when he quietly opens the door he catches the motion of Steve ducking his head down. He’s awake, then. Pretending not to be, but that’s okay - Eddie can work around that. 

He can’t make out anything but the rough shape of Steve in the bed - his own body in the doorway is blocking most of the light trying to illuminate the dark room. He knows the shape of that lump on a mattress, and he walks closer, almost reaching out - but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if he touched Steve and he flinched, or if he pulled away from his reach. So he pulls his hand back, and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, and takes a deep breath, letting the silence sit between them.

And Eddie’s a goddamn coward, can’t even look at his baby, keeps his back to him in the dimness of the room so he doesn’t have to see the anger and the hurt as he tries to apologize for a hurt that he never should have caused. And he can’t see him, but he can hear him - he can hear the little hitches in his breath, the stutters of it, the soft trembles that Steve is trying to keep steady, and each one is like a stab to the fucking heart, and he really cannot fucking take this anymore, so–

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve goes silent behind him. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” He wishes Steve would yell. He wishes his baby would get all his anger and his frustration out and they could move on, he wishes Steve would get so fucking mad and lash out because Eddie deserves it– and he tries to stop that train of thought before it gets too off track because that’s mean, Steve isn’t like that to him and it’s not fair to expect it from him. Even if it would make things easier if he could just hope for an easy way out.

He takes a breath, and starts where he thinks is best, the only starting point he can really think of.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Steve says, sharp voice a little rough, but it’s strong and it’s steady and something in Eddie relaxes a bit. Steve’s still mad. Eddie can work with mad.

“So you are awake,” he tries to joke, and it lands about as well as he thought it would.

“Yeah,” is what he gets back, and he lifts his head, tries to pick out the vague pattern of the popcorn ceiling above them in the dark. He can feel eyes on him, knows Steve’s staring him down.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and Steve makes a soft, gutted sound from behind him. “What I said - what I did–” he shakes his head. “It wasn’t right. I should have never–”

“If you’re going to break up with me will you just get it over with?” Steve interrupts, snappy and frosty but his voice cracks something fierce, and hold on, what.

“Hold on, what?” he says aloud, like a dumbass, but sue him, he doesn’t know how else to express the utter confusion taking him over right now.

Steve scoffs at him, and there’s a shuffle behind him but Eddie’s moving too, finally turning and - oh.

Oh, no. Steve pushes himself to sit up and Eddie takes him in, his reddened puffy eyes and the tense set of his jaw, clenched so it doesn’t shake.

“I don’t need you to apologize for breaking up with me,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest, defensive, shoulders up to his ears, weight shifted back like he’s two seconds from lurching away from Eddie to wedge himself in the corner like that’ll keep him safe. And it’s so odd - it’s so wrong - to see Steve, the fighter, the one who punches first, so defensive, but he supposes it makes sense when the enemy is Eddie, and god, doesn’t that just feel like a kick in the fucking teeth. “If you don’t wanna fucking be with me anymore I get it, okay, I don’t need the spiel, I don’t need the whole it’s not you it’s me thing, just - just do it and get it over with and I can - I can move out, I’ll get out of the way and I’ll leave you alone and–”

“Shut up,” Eddie says sharply, and then cringes at himself because come on Munson, a little gentleness would be good right now, but he’s off-kilter in a way he didn’t expect. Steve flinches a little, but he stands his ground, eyes wide as he keeps them on Eddie. “Shut up, I am not - you thought I was breaking up with you?” 

Steve flails his arms a little, tossing them up. “Well - you - I mean–” he stutters, “why the fuck else are you here!”

“To apologize!” Steve freezes and stares at him like he didn’t know that option was even on the table. “Baby,” Eddie says, achingly soft, and he doesn’t stop himself from reaching this time, catching hold of Steve’s arm and pulling him close as he closes the distance between them both.

They’re on their knees on the mattress, crowded into each other’s space, and Steve won’t look him in the eye. “Steve,” he tries, but he just gets a minute shake of his head for his efforts. Steve isn’t touching him, fingers curling into tight fists in the space between them like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out, but he isn’t pulling away from Eddie’s touch either so he keeps going. He skates his fingertips in a soft touch down Steve’s bicep, over his elbow, brushing along his forearm and feeling goosebumps pop up. 

He takes hold of Steve’s hand, rubs the back of it with his thumb, watches Steve’s gaze dart to where they’re touching as Eddie maps out the familiar pattern of Steve’s moles. Freckled even here, on these warm hands Eddie loves so much, these hands that are shaking faintly in Eddie’s gentle grip.

“You don’t gotta look at me,” he says softly, and he squeezes Steve’s hand tighter, “but please - please, angel, just listen to me, okay?” Steve’s breath hitches again, but he nods, and Eddie will take what he can get as he clasps Steve’s trembling hand between both of his own.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” he says, watching what he can see of Steve’s face, orange light slicing over his features from the doorway. Those eyes he loves are fixed on their hands and he can’t tell if he’s watching in fear or hope or both. “What I said…I didn’t mean it, okay?” And it sounds hollow to his own ears, so he tries again. “I just - I wanted to hurt you, and…” 

Steve gives a bitchy little eye roll and Eddie’s heart skips a beat, staring at his pretty, tear-stained face and clinging to that small glimpse of normalcy. “Well mission accomplished, I guess,” Steve says, bitter and sad, and Eddie groans softly.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t…I tried the whole time I was out to think of the right words to say but I just - I dunno how to explain it,” he says, frustrated with himself, and he feels the smallest little squeeze to his hand.

“Try,” Steve says, quiet, “...please,” and his voice cracks again and it feels like a fucking knife in Eddie’s stomach.

“I was scared,” he blurts out, and finally, finally Steve looks at him.

“...What?” His brows furrow, his mouth turns down, “scared of what?” “Of you,” he says, and that’s not quite right, and Steve’s face falls even more, looking nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” Steve croaks, and he tries to pull his hand away but Eddie just grips it tighter, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I shouldn’t have yelled like that or gotten mad and - and I would never hurt you, Eds–”

“Nonono, baby,” Eddie scrambles to interrupt, shaking his head so hard his hair flies around a little, “no, that’s not - I wasn’t scared of you like that.” He raises a hand, grabbing hold of Steve’s face, keeping their eyes on one another while he has the chance, “I meant - I was–” he makes a little frustrated sound, “...I was scared that I’d lose you,” he says, and God, fuck, thank God Steve is who he is and he knows Eddie how he knows him, because understanding starts to bloom in those bloodshot eyes.

“...And so you lashed out,” he whispers, and Eddie nods again.

“And so I lashed out.” Guilt paints his words. “And I’ve been avoiding you. Avoiding home. Staying away because - because if I’m not around then you can’t get annoyed, or tired of me, right? And that’s so fucking stupid, okay, I know it is, I’m a fucking idiot, really, biggest moron in the world, and a goddamn coward–”

“Hey,” Steve says sharply, and Eddie’s words die with a little whine in his throat. “You are not a coward. You’re the bravest person I know.”

“Dustin would like a word,” he shoots back, and Steve huffs, narrowing his eyes at him. Eddie gives him a small, self-deprecating smile.

“I just mean,” he soldiers on, “I’ve been doing wrong by you.” Steve looks away again. “And I’m sorry. I know I’ve been hurting you and I want to do better, Stevie, I do.” He squeezes Steve’s hand.

He watches as Steve rolls his lips in, biting them hard, his brows tight and his shoulders going tense again. Eddie wants to fill the space with his own chatter, pour out even more apologies, but he lets the silence sit - he lets Steve have the space to collect his thoughts, to think of what he wants to say.

Finally, he speaks. “It felt like you didn’t love me anymore,” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help the heartbroken little sound he makes.

“No,” he says fiercely, and he crowds into Steve’s personal space, takes his face in his hands and cradles his cheeks in his palms. “Absolutely fucking not, baby,” he insists, and Steve reaches up, covering Eddie’s hands with his like he’s trying to pull all the warmth from Eddie and into himself.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Steve asks, “you were just - you were gone all the time, and you never wanted to talk about it, and you were always busy with stuff that didn’t involve me and it was like you didn’t want to be around me anymore. And when we fought tonight I thought - I.” He cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes closed tight. “...I really thought that you might not come back,” he confesses, and Eddie pulls him even closer.

“You listen to me,” he says, soft but fierce, “and I know my word probably means shit to you right now, because I’ve been the biggest dumbass in the world and broken it, but I need you to hear me when I say this.” Steve opens his eyes, and Eddie stares into them. “I will always come home to you. Even if I’m being a fucking idiot. Even if I’m pulling a runner, if I lose my mind and bolt out of here again, I will come home.” Steve’s eyes go all watery, and Eddie gently catches the tears with his thumbs, brushing them from Steve’s cheeks.

“Swear,” Steve says, and there’s a desperation in his tone that Eddie wishes he could smooth away, but he knows that will take time. That will take dedication and patience and perseverance and goddammit, Eddie will use every ounce of all that he possesses if that’s what it takes. But for now he holds Steve’s gaze and he nods slowly, their faces just inches apart.

“I swear,” he tells him. “I swear to you, Steve Harrington, I will come home. And I will always, always fucking love you.” 

Steve gives a little sob. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Eddie shushes him.

“No, angel,” he tells him, shaking his head. “You got nothing you need to apologize for, okay?” Steve looks like he’s going to protest, but Eddie just shifts, pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead and lingering there as his baby works to catch his breath.

“Can we go to bed?” Steve asks, and he sounds exhausted down to his bones. Eddie nods.

“Of course, baby,” he says, and he pulls Steve from the guest bed - fucking terrible thing that it is, taking Steve from their room, from their space, the safe little corner of the universe that they’ve carved out together between their sheets. He guides Steve down the hall, tired and stumbling a little, his pretty hair in disarray - his baby didn’t even change first, seems like he just curled right up after Eddie left, he’s still in his jeans and everything. 

Eddie watches as Steve changes, stripping his clothes off with slow, lethargic movements, and for once they land in a heap on the floor - on top of his sneakers, and that makes Eddie’s heart do a funny little flip as he catches Steve’s hand to keep him from tripping over the damn things. A fond smile is teasing at Steve’s lips, and Eddie returns it.

They curl up together, close as they can get, unsure where one starts and another begins. Relief washes through Eddie as he gets Steve settled into the right bed this time. He buries his hand in Steve’s hair and Steve noses at Eddie’s throat, turns his head side to side in a slow rhythm that drags his lips over the same little sensitive spot on the underside of Eddie’s jaw. It’s not a kiss, not quite - just a touch. A reminder that Eddie’s still here. He’ll allow Steve to take as many reminders as he needs for as long as he wants.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Steve whispers, and Eddie wants to tell him once again that he doesn’t have to apologize, but he knows this is important to Steve. So he just nods a little, careful not to dislodge him from the warm space he’s settled into at the curve of Eddie’s neck. 

“I forgive you,” he tells him, and a bit of tension leaves Steve’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispers, and he feels Steve’s lips part– “don’t say you forgive me yet,” he says before Steve can speak. “I got a lot more groveling to do, babylove, don’t you dare let me off the hook that easily. I was a fucking jackass. And I’m gonna make it right, and that’s gonna take time, and I know that, and that’s okay, because I’m in this for the long haul, alright?” 

Steve is silent for a few moments, weighing Eddie’s words. Eddie can feel the brush of eyelashes against his skin as his baby blinks slowly a few times. Then, gradually, the last of the tightness in Steve’s frame melts away.

“Actually I was gonna say I’m going to get one of those toddler leashes,” he says. “That way if you try to bolt I can just yank you back.” Eddie snorts out an ugly laugh, and Steve’s chuckle echoes his own, and he rolls them both until he’s got Steve under him. He just stares at him in the darkness for a few moments, watching his smile fade into something small and private.

“I love you so much,” Eddie says, and Steve’s hands come up, slipping beneath Eddie’s shirt to rest on the bare skin of his back, fingertips tracing up and down the dip of his spine. “There’s nowhere in the world I wanna be than right here with you.” Steve hums softly and closes his eyes, and Eddie knows it’s going to take more than just a few pretty words to prove this to Steve. That’s okay. Eddie’s stubborn. He can stick with it as long as it takes.

“I love you too,” Steve says back, and Eddie leans down, nudging his nose gently into his baby’s. Steve’s scrunches up, and Eddie presses a quick kiss to it just to hear him laugh, then shifts, brushing his lips against Steve’s. 

Steve sighs soft and warm into it, lips parting, and Eddie kisses him slow, devotion pouring out of him and into Steve. And he takes it all - gasps and moans quietly against Eddie’s mouth, lax beneath him, letting Eddie nip and bite and suck and soothe at his lips, his tongue, hand slipping to Steve’s side - not to start anything. Just to touch. Just to feel. To prove to himself that he’s still able to touch this beautiful man, that he’s still allowed this wonderful, dizzying love that he’s stumbled into.

They fade like that, both tired, Eddie’s weight slowly sinking down until he’s resting atop Steve. Steve’s arms come around him fully until he’s hugging him around the waist, and their mouths slip from each other’s to land in the spaces of their shoulders and throats instead, nosing into the warmth and familiarity of the person they love.

And things aren’t fixed - they aren’t perfect. But they’re working on it, and that’s enough.

[littleststarfighter]

Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am free again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am clean again - The Cure, Lovesong

[joseph-munson]

Eddie : How many children do you have?

Steve: Biologically, legally, or emotionally? Because there is a difference.

[little-annie]

Okay, so they told Dustin and it was… interesting.

If interesting is thinking your friend is dying, then telling him not to get pregnant by his boyfriend before ultimately shrugging your shoulders and bullying your way to the arcade.

So yeah.

Interesting.

And now to tell Robin.

Which is less scary in a sense but also, like, fucking terrifying in another. Because they didn't tell her first. Because Steve kinda sorted out the whole Bi-Sexual thing on his own when he fell into bed with Eddie on some random Saturday night.

So yeah. Maybe Steve's a little scared and maybe Eddie finds it hilarious, because why wouldn't he?

They're at Family Video, Eddie hanging out with Steve while he finishes up the last remaining hours of his shift. A shift Robin will soon be joining if the schedule in the break room is anything to go by.

They don't really have a solid plan, because why would they? They probably should but they've, um, been a little busy, if you get what I mean. So in the last five minutes they've decided to be themselves and let Robin catch on. That's their hardly existent, probably not the greatest plan.

And for the most part it works.

They're standing too close to be considered just friendly when Robin arrives. Shoulders brushing, Steve's lips tickling Eddie's ear as he whispers something that makes the man blush and smirk before slapping Steve's chest and playfully shoving him away.

Robin just looks, smiles and carries on to the back room to clock in and grab her vest. When she returns, she offers Steve a raised brow and a questioning glance but nothing more.

They carry on with their work routine, skirting around each other in perfect sync while Eddie forever hangs in Steve's orbit; making the man laugh or sneaking kisses on the cheek when they're hidden and no one's in the store.

Occasionally they think Robin notices the lingering touches or the not so well hidden kisses, but she never says anything, just carries on, only offering a smile or the continuation of a conversation they hadn't finished last shift.

It isn't until Steve's on break and Eddie has him pressed up against the wall in the break room that Robin finally says something.

But it's just a simple, "You two wanna quit fornicating for two seconds so I can get to the bathroom back there?"

Not a 'What the fuck?' Or 'Since when?' Or a 'Steve's gay?'

Nothing.

They boys separate, Steve's a little shocked and they stay silent as Robin passes by and ducks into the washroom.

"What the fuck?" Steve whispers, looking at Eddie as if also asking, 'did you also just witness the lack of reaction from Robin?'

To which Eddie responds with a crinkled nose and a shrug as if to say, 'What're ya gonna do?'

"But, like, that was weird, right? Like she didn't say anything really. Just pushed past and carried on."

"Maybe she already knows?"

"Maybe"

And then there's a voice coming from the bathroom to their left, "You know I can hear you guys out there right?"

"….."

"I know you're together, you idiots. I'm not stupid." There's a flush and the sound of Robin washing her hands before the door swings open and she continues, "Like what, you've been together since you got all horny when Eddie shoved a broken bottle to your neck?"

Steve sputters because, well, no…maybe. "I- I didn't-"

While Eddie teases, "Oh Stevie, you liked that did ya?"

And Robin continues, "Don't lie to me, you liked it. Just as much as Eddie liked seeing you all sweaty in his vest." (To which Eddie shrugs, because she's not wrong) "If I didn't know better I'd say you two were doing the dirty that night in the woods. But, I do know better and if I'm right, which I usually am, this whole thing started a few months ago and you're already grossly in love. God,-" she scoffs fondly, shaking her head, "-I bet you guys cry during sex. Disgusting. But adorable. Just be safe. Don't get Steve pregnant." She claps them on the shoulders with finality and sanuters past like the pair aren't standing there with mouths agape in shock.

And then the door to the break room swings shut and they're alone again.

Steve's still blushing, jaw hanging open while Eddie has obviously moved on by the way he's rucking up Steve's shirt and mouthing at his neck and he mumbles, "She's not wrong, you looked hot in my vest."

[ignoremyworld]

Steddie drabble

Eddie works at a cat cafe and Steve and Robin walk in. Cue Eddie having a crisis over a, what he thinks, straight man. And he's so busy in his Head that he doesn't hear Steve freaking out to Robin and the cat snuggled in his lap about "cute cat cafe guy"

Steve then goes there all the time to see him and potentially get to know him. Eddie is trying his hardest not to flirt with someone who won't be into him while steve is just laying it on him and making Eddie blush because "cute cat cafe guy is even cuter when he blushes"

At one point steve goes back and asks to adopt a cat because he's been keeping his eye on a fuzzy black kitty named "kaz" Eddie then blurts out, completely by accident, "he's almost as handsome as you"

After that Steve gets a job at the cat cafe after his date/interview with eddie and they live happily ever after with th kitties

I'm still learning to write so please be nice :3