#there's no narrative resolution tho so in my head it's still just a snippet

[laundrybiscuits]

(NOTE: awkward handjobs beneath the cut. This could possibly be read as a continuation of previous snippets, if you wanted it to be.)

“It’s like, all this stuff I’ve been doing has been moves, okay. If he were a girl he’d already be wearing my letterman jacket.”

“Steve, please tell me you don’t still have your letterman jacket.” 

“That’s not—I mean, I’m not gonna just throw it out, why would I throw it out? That’s not the point! The point is, I’ve been pulling out all the stops, and he’s not giving me anything. Good, bad, nothing. It’s like he doesn’t even know I’m hitting on him.”

“Well…” Robin sets down the magazine she’s been flipping through and frowns at him. They’re in her bedroom with the door wide open because the Buckleys like Steve, but they don’t trust him. Mrs. Buckley has been popping up to see if they need snacks about every ten minutes.

“Robbie. I brought him flowers.” 

“To his show! And you threw them at him like you were making a joke!”

She’s not totally wrong, is the thing. But Steve's in a weird situation where he knows how to do this, but he doesn’t know how to do this.

He’s been shot down a lot, no matter what people say. Plenty of girls liked him, but plenty more didn’t. So he knows that asking someone out means taking a risk.

He doesn’t know how to take this kind of risk.

If Eddie’s never even thought about this kind of thing, it could really seriously fuck everything up for Steve. Just in terms of their whole dynamic. He doesn’t think that Eddie would tell anyone, probably. And, well…even if he did, who would believe him? Robin would smack Steve if he ever said something like that, but it’s true. Steve doesn’t have to like it for it to be true. But the important thing is that Eddie would know, and Eddie wouldn't forget.

What Steve needs is a way to ease Eddie into the whole idea.

He’s been quiet too long, and Robin sighs. “Hey, dingus. I know it’s scary. Welcome to what the rest of us deal with on a daily basis, without the benefit of being Steve Harrington.” She makes these dorky little jazz hands when she says his name. Steve loves her so much.

“I just feel like every time I, y’know, flirt with him, it just…slides right off. He’s not getting it.”

Robin snorts. “Guess you’ll actually have to bang him, maybe then he’ll get a clue.” 

“Guess so,” says Steve. He sits up. “Wait.”

“No,” says Robin. “No no no, I’m calling veto on this. No.”

“Yeah, no, this will work. As long as I don’t tell him I like him, it’ll go great.” Steve snaps his fingers as the idea takes shape. “Yeah, actually, it’s perfect. I’m good at sex with girls, I’m pretty sure I’ll be good at sex with Eddie, I just need to get him to go along with it for a while. Just until I can prove I’m prime boyfriend material.” 

“I cannot fucking believe you,” says Robin. The swearing is pretty new for her. Steve worries sometimes that he’s being a bad influence. “This is…of all your incredibly terrible plans, this one is the most absolute dogshit. You’re going to trick Eddie Munson into dating you, with sex.”

“Not trick,” say Steve. “Convince. Just, you know, let him know that I’m a good option. He’s got options. He should know he’s got options.”

———

He plans it all out. He doesn’t want Eddie to think it’s a date and get scared off, so he wears an old shirt with a couple unfashionable holes near the hem, doesn’t fully style his hair, sure as hell doesn’t bother with cologne. But the shirt’s thin and soft enough to drape nicely across his chest, and he makes sure he’s well-showered and looking good by the time Eddie shows up.

It’s kind of nice, taking this much care. He doesn’t have to think too hard about it. He might not have gotten the best grades or whatever, but he’s always been good at this kind of thing: finding the balance between too casual and not casual enough. He knows how to play things just sincere enough to make girls feel special and wanted, but not so sincere that they get turned off. 

Sure, it’s a little different with Eddie. With guys in general, probably. But Steve isn’t too worried.

So after they polish off a large pizza and a couple of beers, when the easy conversation hits a natural lull, Steve angles his body towards Eddie on the couch and says: “Hey, I’ve been thinking about your whole, y’know, girlfriend situation.”

“What girlfriend situation, Harrington?”

“Exactly,” says Steve, like he’s already won. “I know it’s been a while for you.” 

He falters a little; he’d vaguely meant to say something really cool and casual at this point, but nothing’s coming to mind. Instead, he says, “I was thinking, if you want…”

He’s hoping Eddie will pick up on what he’s saying. Eddie just sits there silently, frowning. 

Steve sighs. “I’m just saying, I could help you out. I know that when it’s been a while for me, I’m not too picky.”

“You trying out matchmaking again, Stevie?” Eddie drawls, but Steve thinks he says it in a way that means he knows what Steve’s really saying. His shoulders look tense.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. Don’t be such a tough guy, just let me give you a hand.” He makes an illustrative gesture.

Eddie’s eyes go wide, and he lets out a breathless little laugh that goes soundless at the edges. “Wow, I—you’ve really been striking out with the ladies, huh?”

“Maybe,” says Steve, still leaning close. He lets his voice drop a little, and hopes it works on guys as well as it does on girls. “Maybe I’m just looking to switch things up. C’mon, Eddie, don’t you want something easy for a change?”

Eddie laughs that weird choked half-laugh again. 

“Shit, man. Jesus christ. This…is a really bad idea.” 

Steve can see the flush in Eddie’s cheeks and the way he’s breathing faster than normal, so he pushes. Just a little bit. He thinks maybe Eddie wants to be pushed, the way he’s looking. 

“Okay, but you’re gonna say yes anyway, right?”

Eddie closes his eyes. His face changes a little. Steve’s not completely sure, but he thinks Eddie looks sort of sad or maybe hurt, which makes his gut twist in guilt. He’s about to back off and apologize, try and laugh it off, when Eddie opens his eyes again and says, “Yeah, Harrington. Yeah. I’m saying yes anyway.” 

“Cool,” says Steve, and doesn’t reach out immediately like he wants to. He doesn’t get grabby. He just sits back and looks at Eddie for a second. Eddie gets more and more fidgety, and when he starts to curl in on himself all shy, Steve reaches out and grabs his upper arm to tug him in. 

Eddie goes along with it easy enough. He lets himself be pulled into Steve’s lap, denim stretched over his splayed thighs in a way that makes Steve’s mouth water. He meets Steve’s eyes when Steve says “Hey,” real quiet and smooth as silk, and he nods like Steve asked a question. 

He’s biting his lip. It’s not in a teasing way, he’s really chewing on it. He’s not trying to be sexy. Steve’s not sure he even knows he’s doing it. 

Steve reaches for Eddie’s fly, and he’s annoyed to realize that his hands are shaking a little. He anchors them in Eddie’s belt loops as he tries to ease the zipper down. It’s not that easy, between how wide Eddie’s legs are spread and the rapidly growing bulge in his boxers. Eventually, he has to say, “Scoot back a little, dude.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” says Eddie, practically gasping, and scoots back a little. When Steve finally manages to get Eddie’s dick out, they both pause. 

This kind of thing, it’s not something you can take back or laugh off. The stakes are so high. It feels like it’s the most dangerous thing Steve’s ever done. He knows it’s probably not true, but it still feels that way. 

Before he can psych himself out too much, Steve spits in his hand and starts jerking Eddie off. He doesn’t try to tease or anything. The angle’s not exactly what he’s used to, and he thinks his wrist might start complaining if he does this too long, but it’s not so different from how he usually takes care of business.

Except that he doesn’t usually have Eddie Munson heavy in his lap, breathing hard like Eddie’s just run a marathon. He’s not usually focused in on how Eddie’s reacting to every little thing, how firm to make his grip so that Eddie will whine under his breath in a dazed kind of way. 

He’d been right, back when he’d first started thinking in a serious way about doing this with Eddie; it’s a hell of a thing.

Eddie’s hands start out hovering like he doesn’t know where to put them. They land on Steve’s shoulders, tentatively at first, and then gripping harder as Steve starts changing it up just a little more, twisting on the upstroke, thumbing over the head.

“Yeah,” Steve says when Eddie’s hips start really twitching. He hadn’t meant to say anything, but Eddie had been so polite, almost, and now…

Eddie’s fucking my hand, Eddie’s fucking me, thinks Steve wildly, and says “Yeah,” again out loud and mostly on purpose. “C’mon, Eddie. There you go. Baby. C’mon.” 

Eddie lets out a helpless little noise that Steve wants to hear again and again on a loop forever, tipping forward, forehead clumsily knocking into Steve’s. Steve slides his other hand up from where it’s been clutching Eddie’s thigh and pushes under Eddie’s shirt, around his back, holding him close. 

When Eddie comes, grinding hard into Steve’s grip, he tips forward and kisses Steve. It’s not even a real kiss, though, Eddie just tilts his head and slides his mouth across Steve’s kind of desperately. Steve thinks it probably doesn’t count, even as he’s pushing up to meet Eddie, seeking Eddie’s clever pretty mouth and his clever pretty tongue, wanting it all, wanting anything Eddie will let him take. 

Eddie pulls back, and Steve chases him mindlessly. Eddie’s hands come up to cradle Steve’s face, keeping him where he is but not moving away. Steve squirms a little. Eddie’s just looking at him. Eddie’s face is still flushed and his chest is still heaving. Steve wants to push his shirt up and bite. He’s still almost totally clothed, they both are, but Steve is going out of his mind with how hot it is to have Eddie’s thighs around him with Steve’s hand wrapped around his softening dick. Steve managed to catch most of the spunk in his palm, and he has to push down an urge to do something with it. He’s not even sure what. He maybe wants to offer his hand to Eddie, just to see what Eddie will do. Instead, he wipes it off on his own shirt.

Steve’s having some trouble focusing, but he sees Eddie’s expression go soft. Eddie leans in again, hands still firm and careful on Steve’s face, and kisses him very quickly and neatly. 

“Okay, Harrington,” Eddie says. Steve can feel his breath when he talks. “My turn. Let me return the favor.”

Eddie gently pushes away the hand that Steve still has snagged on his waistband, tucking himself back in. He zips up his jeans but doesn’t button them. He sits back and looks down, biting his lip the way he was doing earlier, and Steve has the sudden technicolor thought that Eddie might slide down to the floor and open his mouth, let Steve push in and in to that hot wet space.

He doesn’t, obviously. Eddie pushes his palm against Steve through his jeans, not rubbing or anything, just giving him a little pressure to strain against. Steve gasps and the sound is embarrassingly loud, but Eddie nods like Steve’s done something right. 

As Eddie opens up Steve’s fly, Steve is suddenly aware that Eddie’s the tallest person he’s ever hooked up with. Eddie��s always in motion and he’s on the skinny side, so it’s easy to forget that they’re about the same height. Steve hadn’t really thought through how it would feel to have Eddie bending over him like this, pinning him down and caging him in, hair hanging down. He’s definitely going to be thinking about it a lot from now on. 

Eddie pauses and sits back. Steve can’t help the pathetic noise he makes at the loss, but Eddie just grins, eyes sparkling.

“Not going anywhere, Stevie. You’ll get yours. Just avoiding any potential mishaps,” he says. He tugs his rings off quickly and efficiently, twisting at the waist to dump them on the coffee table in a little pile. Steve wants to buy a special dish to keep them in. Maybe something with Eddie’s name on it. 

Bare-handed, Eddie reaches out to run his knuckles lightly up Steve’s dick before tugging at the hem of his briefs playfully. “C’mon, lift your hips for me. Can’t do anything without getting these off you.”

It’s a little awkward, especially because Eddie doesn’t even try to get off Steve’s lap and Steve isn’t about to make him move, but they manage to get Steve’s pants and briefs down, and then Eddie’s just—there, staring at him.

“Shit,” says Eddie, laughing a little under his breath. “Life really isn’t fair sometimes, huh? King of Hawkins High, popular jock extraordinaire, and you’re packing some serious heat. Leave some for the rest of us, huh?” 

Steve barely stops himself from telling Eddie that really, he can have Steve’s dick any time he wants. 

Eddie keeps staring at him, and the pleased squirmy feeling in his gut is faltering a little. He can feel his erection start to wilt as the nervousness builds. His shirt’s still on, which seems kind of stupid now that he’s thinking about it.

“If,” he says. “If you don’t want to, man. It’s fine. No big deal.”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to Steve’s face. Without breaking eye contact, he sticks out his (long, jesus) tongue and licks his palm. 

“No way, man. Never let it be said that Eddie Munson leaves his debts unpaid,” he purrs. Steve is embarrassed to realize that the deep rasp of his voice alone is more than enough to get Steve back to full attention, suddenly back on that desperate edge. 

And then Eddie’s hand is finally around him, just the right side of painfully tight, and Steve stops thinking altogether for a while. 

———

“Okay, so you traded handjobs,” says Robin. 

“You don’t get it,” Steve hisses. “It’s so much worse now! I’m spacing out in the fucking checkout line just thinking about how to get him to take his clothes off around me.”

“I want you to know that I have never related to you less in my life, even including that time when you asked Mrs. Click whether the Romans or the Greeks invented Olive Garden.”

“Greek food has olives, right? Anyway, come on, I thought you were supposed to be my supportive gay friend. My gay support friend? My friend who is gay and supports me in gay stuff.”

Robin makes a noise like a dying cat and flops over the counter. “Fine! I’m supportive, I’m being gay-supportive. I’m just saying, I’ve heard way more than I ever wanted to about all the girls you’ve had sex with and all the different freaky ways you had sex with them, and Eddie Munson giving you a random handjob in your living room is what rocks your world?”

“Yes,” Steve says. “Exactly! Because of, you know. Feelings. And stuff. You’re missing the, the poetry of it all.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a loser,” says Robin, but she sits up and butts her head against his shoulder to show she loves him.

(Snippet directory)