My Friend Just Told Me That There's A Secret Second Dashboard That Solely Contains Posts From People

I wish epilepsy was taken more seriously because I literally see constant untagged and extreme strobe, especially on tiktok but even on YouTube. I have a filter but it does not work on tiktok, it only blocks regular videos. I’m still suffering from the seizure I had around 5 hours ago and my head feels likes it’s going to explode. Please, please, tag properly. I don’t wanna hear a single ‘but trigger warnings are bad!!!’, epilepsy is serious and seizures can kill.

On my freaky close friends stobin shit

Robin was well aware her and Steve were closer than most friends, scarily so. They showered together when they were at her house due to her family not having a huge hot water tank like his. They slept in the same bed no matter whose house they were at, despite the fact they both slept naked due to overheating in their sleep. They had seen each other naked more times then they could count. They frequently went skinny dipping in his pool late at night. 

They were practically one person living in two separate bodies. They knew everything about each other. That included all the details of the other's sex life. They have had many conversations about what they prefer in bed, and Robin had a very vivid mental image of what Eddie Munson looked like naked, all the way down to the dick piercing, although she had never seen it firsthand. It didn't matter that Steve liked boobies. He didn't like hers.

So when she was sitting at home minding her business and got a snap from Steve along with the instruction to not open it in front of other people, she wasn't too concerned. 

Steeb: don't open that around other people

Bobin: what am i about to open??

Steeb: i just need to make sure it doesn't look weird before i send it to Eddie

Bobin: i think all dicks look weird babe. But ill look to make sure it doesn't look weidER than normal.

Steeb: hwo did you know it was a dick pic

how*

Bobin: what else would you send to eddie that im not allowed to open around other people?

Steeb: fair point

Bobin: lower the camera a little. Your dick looks short

Steeb: Thanks robbie. Ur the best

Bobin: you know we are the weirdest friends ever right? You just sent a lesbian your dick pic

Steeb: you had me grab ur boob the other day because you thought you had a lump

Bobin: i was CONCERNED

Steeb: ill text you later. eddie is calling

Bobin: take my stuffed animal off your bed. Sir franklin shouldnt witness such behavior

Steeb: on it. Love you bobbie!!

Bobin: love you stevie

harder stuff

for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'score'

rated m | 351 words | cw: implied drug use, implied sexual content | tags: frottage, making out, secret relationship, banter, season 1/2 era idk you pick exact timelines, tommy and steve are still friends here either way

💊💊💊💊💊💊💊💊💊💊

"If you're lookin' to score something harder, I'm not your guy," Munson says as Tommy stands awkwardly behind them. Steve rolls his eyes. "Might have to go to one of your daddy's friends for that shit."

"Dude, I'm not asking my dad's business partners for coke," Steve looks over at Tommy. "Nevermind. Just give us the other stuff."

Eddie hands over a bag of mushrooms and a few joints.

Steve hands him the cash, then hands the stuff to Tommy. "Wait in the car," he tells him. Tommy goes because he's nervous, but Steve's gonna hear all about how he shouldn't be ordering him around later.

"What an obedient dog you have there," Eddie teases when Tommy's gone.

Steve pushes Eddie against a tree, crushes their lips together. Eddie moans, grabs the sides of Steve's head to hold him in place.

Steve's knee is between his legs, rubbing against Eddie's hardening dick.

"Thought you said you didn't have anything harder," Steve laughs against his mouth.

"Oh, I thought you asked for coke, not cock," Eddie grins as he finds the perfect angle for rubbing off against Steve's thigh. "My bad."

Steve bites his shoulder hard and he feels like he's going insane. Tommy's not that far away, sitting in Steve's car waiting for him to return. They can't do anything; They don't have time.

Steve's acting like they do, though. As if they have all the time in the world.

"Why'd you bring him if you were gonna try to fuck me against a tree?" Eddie gasps as Steve's mouth sucks a bruise against his collarbone. He doesn't know why he's humoring him like this. It's gotta be the charm.

"He wouldn't fuckin' leave," Steve says against his skin. "Had no choice."

"I'll come to yours later," Eddie offers.

"Want you now," Steve nips at his neck. "C'mon. You can be quick."

"Excuse me, I-" They both freeze when Tommy's voice is heard not too far away, yelling for Steve. "You need to go. Later, okay?"

"But-"

Eddie shuts him up with a kiss.

"I'll bring the harder stuff later, baby."

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part iii: at your best you were magic

(this one has length, you guys, but the boys needed so much RESOLUTION 🥺)

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤❤️

<<< part two // start at the beginning

Eddie kind of expects to be clocked hovering outside the window, or by the rattle of his van. He kinda expects to be left standing on the porch.

His heart’s fucking pounding, and he’s halfway to shivering because he didn’t wear a decent coat, because no one’s there anymore to bully him into being a little more aware of taking care of himself and he…he kinda feels like he did when he was running for his life, when they found him in Rick’s boathouse, he’s maybe gonna hyperventilate and wouldn’t that be a pretty fucking picture, pass out from lack of oxygen, or die flat-out, heart giving out on the steps of the man he loves, that he loves and that he wasn’t good enough to keep and—

“Oh.”

It doesn’t even matter how flat it comes out: Eddie’s breath catches just to hear that voice, holy fuck.

“Steve.”

He can’t even keep the word in, that single name in his chest knocked clean to launch from his lips, and Steve…

Steve looks rough. Drawn, kinda pale but in that exhausted washed out way where he’s not just blanched for his skin tone but in a way that makes the saturation of his whole self seem washed out and sallow. He’s got more stubble than he normally allows, much as Eddie has enjoyed the hell out of that gorgeous scruff now and again—he knows Steve only lets it get that way when they fuck too many hours in a row to want to get out of bed and properly plan to leave, or of he’s sick, or anxious, or…

Not good.

Eddie thinks it’s probably the generally not-good thing that’s to blame, here.

And yet somehow he’s still the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen in his whole fucking life. No contest.

God, Eddie’s so fucking gone on him. All he wants is to reach, and pull him close, and keep all the sour things from his heart. All Eddie wants is to fucking…love him. For the rest of his goddamn life.

“I,” Eddie’s voice comes out raw, sandpaper rubbing to bleed; he would have wanted better, Steve deserved him to be better no matter what they were, what they weren’t, what they’d never be or maybe could be—but Eddie knows he’s weak as a rule, and here and now he breaks clean open, heart cleaving straight down the middle to bleed free because…

Fuck: Eddie had been hurting for being without Steve, but he’d underestimated just how much seeing him, breathing his air again would undo him. The sheer relief down to his cells, just to know in his bones that Steve was in the world. He’d been less than a shell, he’d been only half-floating through the world on his own for the way he’d healed himself around the give and take of Steve and to know it again, even just at arm’s length, feels like breaking water for the first time after drowning, but then it every single atom of him had been diminished on its own, then started vibrating again all at once after a fucking age spent stopped-dead.

“What are you doing here?”

Of all the things Eddie could hate out of the situation he’s standing in—outside of anything and everything that surrounds the fact of Steve, all that is Steve because that could never be hated at all—but of all the things to hate, the worst is maybe how flat Steve’s tone is. And worse?

How Eddie can’t read him. How, how did Eddie…

How did Eddie lose that?

“I,” Eddie moves his mouth, lips stretching awkward around the sound, and he’s adrift, man, he’s fucking loose ends with no hope of ever tying together, ever tethering to anything but the man in front of him, he believes that in his soul: with anyone else, anywhere but here, and Eddie would still just have this collection of stray threads of what it means to be himself, just reaching for Steve fucking Harrington forever and for always, holy fuck, and—

“I’m,” he grasps as best he can at the straws of what it means to form a thought, but all of what he comes up with is insufficient, rehashes the same core sentiment: I’m less of a person when I’m not with you, I’m scared by what that means but I’m more scared by what it means not to have you, I’m most scared by how hollow your eyes look and how dry your hair is at the ends because I pay attention where maybe almost everyone else has been letting that slide under the radar, I’m so fucking in love with you I think they could cut me open and only find you inside, I’m yours and I will be yours long after I’m more soil than corpse in the fucking ground, I’m—

“Jesus,” Steve huffs, and something in Eddie’s chest perks up at the bitchy little tone he throws put as he seems to give up on whatever was letting him stand in the doorway as he throws the door open and backs up into the hall, waving Eddie’s direction with too much resignation: “get in here, you’re gonna get frostbite, man.”

And maybe there’s a plummeting in Eddie’s gut at the tone but…he doesn’t need to be told twice.

He also doesn’t need to experience the thickness of the tension that descends immediately between them once the door clicks closed, suffocating, burning in his lungs.

“Hey,” the word gets punched out of him, not least because Eddie’s a little afraid that he won’t be able to draw another breath to get anything further said.

“Hey.”

And Eddie still can’t fucking read him, and holy shit, does it sting.

“Steve,” he only just manages not to moan but then—

“Why are you here?”

And it’s so…toneless. Kinda curt. So blunt and somehow Eddie feels it more like a spike, a fucking harpoon through his sternum that drags bloody against his heart with every goddamn beat.

“I,” Eddie licks his lips; “Dustin, he was—”

“Oh,” Steve sighs a little, bitter at the edges and Eddie’s just grateful that it’s something; “he send you?”

And Eddie doesn’t expect to feel it like a slap to his fucking face like this but: fuck if he doesn’t. Fuck if that’s not exactly what it is.

“No one sent me,” Eddie’s fucking quick to correct that because Dustin may have begged him, but Eddie thinks his heart’s been ready to scramble to Steve’s doorstep and maybe just fucking grovel and promise to try and be whatever about him made Steve happy to begin with, or not be whatever put Steve off of him and they could be happy again, maybe, and Eddie’s chest could feel less in a vise all the goddamn time.

“He, uh,” and Eddie stumbles a little around giving context when all Steve does is raise a doubtful brow at his denial that he’s here primarily because of anyone but himself.

“He said some stuff that,” Eddie swallows hard, works his throat around a lot of half-formed things he doesn’t think he can quite get out before he ultimately just rasps:

“I got worried.”

“Nice of you,” Steve laughs a little save there’s no humor, sniffs a little and it’d read haughty if you didn’t know what to look for, if you couldn’t tell that Steve’s eyes are stretched too wide, and shine a little too bright and his hand’s twitching to rise to the bridge of his nose and pinch which only ever means—

“Not necessary though.”

And it’s so hollow, it’s just…it’s filled with so much nothing, those words, that voice, that it’s an anguish all on its own, and fuck, but how Eddie’s voice breaks on the next words that he doesn’t even give conscious consent to even come out at all:

“You’re supposed to be happy, Stevie.”

He feels the way his lashes stick as he blinks too fast, his heart hurting because Steve looks like he’s in fucking pain and why are they both in pain—

But Steve’s expression is all scrunched up, and he’s frowning, fucking baffled at Eddie from across the space, so small, cramped to the wall next to the closed front door but as good as a continent, an ocean stretched between for how Eddie’s can feel his heat, can’t reach, and then Steve’s squinting and near snapping:

“What?”

And it’s said so sharp but then weirdly without the bite in its anding, like he’s too worn down, too drained somehow to manage it, or even really want to. Eddie..

Eddie isn’t sure he wants to keep learning just how many times, how many ways a heart can fucking break.

“I,” Eddie’s throat’s dry as shit and he cannot possibly care because his heart’s pounding in a way he doesn’t know he’s felt before, because it’s all wrong, isn’t it, it’s all so fucking wrong; “whatever I was doing that was bringing you down,” he shakes his head, desperate as he leans forward to Steve as far as he dares, closer but not close enough, never close enough:

“If I’m gone, you’re supposed to be happy and it’s like,” Eddie groans, and maybe it’s more of a whine really, fuck it all, that fits, that fucking makes sense because; “you didn’t want me here anymore, so I—”

“I never said I didn’t want you here.”

Eddie startles, heart in his throat again and hammering, violent and hellbent as Steve cuts him off, voice bowstring-taut where it cuts through the mounted tension, but does nothing to diminish it in the process; does nothing to ease the way it makes Eddie’s pulse work harder, desperate to fight the weight of it.

“I have never once wanted you to be anywhere but here,” and Steve’s voice is fucking…pained and just, just: how?

“Stevie,” Eddie pleads, because he doesn’t fucking understand; “you flinched when I touched you,” and Steve does it just then, the slightest bit; Eddie’s chest clenches just at the echo of it.

“You moved away from my mouth when I tried to kiss you,” and oh, how that had hurt, how that had withered things in Eddie’s ribs that never died long, just regrew to be burned back because Eddie didn’t know how not to love Steve, didn’t want to know such an unthinkable thing: but good fucking god, if it didn’t start to hurt worse than dying when Steve stopped wanting him—and Eddie was okay with it not being love, for Steve, with it being too much or maybe too soon but he’d…

He’d believed what they had was something beautiful; he’d clung maybe foolishly to the possibility of…maybe Steve someday growing into love with him.

And then he’d pulled back; then he’d spurned Eddie’s affection with his body, he didn’t even have to say it, it was sown in his skin, he…

“That’s not tru—” Steve starts, tone tight as he tries to defend but: no. No, Eddie hadn’t fucking created his own heartbreak from whole cloth, without reason.

“You turned, repeatedly,” Eddie hates that it comes out as accusatory as it does, but he…he wasn’t fucking imagining it, he hadn’t been because you can’t make up that kind of knife in your chest, you can’t.

“You tried to make it look like a coincidence. But when you keep getting your mouth on the man you lo—” and Eddie, he chokes it back as much as it wants to come out, to be spoken and known even if it’s not returned, never returned because it’s not going away, it’s never going away, but he, he—

He can’t. Not…not now.

“When you keep getting your mouth on your guy’s cheek and not his lips, damn,” Eddie’s breathing shudders; “you fuckin’ notice.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but his gaze has shifted to the ground. Eddie…doesn’t know if he should take that as permission to keep going. He doesn’t even know if he wants to keep going in the first place.

His heartbeat’s still a torrent, though, and he…he doesn’t know if he could stop the words that come next if he tried.

“You stayed on your side of the bed all curled up, like you,” Eddie swallows hard, because what he’s about to say out loud fucking hurts to put into words; goddamn—because he thinks it’s true:

“You made yourself small to not be near me.”

Steve’s shoulders shift, then, but he doesn’t move, just keeps staring at the floor.

“You won’t even look at me when all your plans to avoid me go wrong and we actually miraculously end up in the same place because of the kids,” Eddie keeps going because he’s opened the floodgates, he’s let the feeling in him sneak through and it was too fucking big, it tore off the dams he tried to put in place to hold it all at bay; “if you can’t get away quick enough, every time I almost catch your eyes you look like you’re in pain,” and he looks like it now, he looks like he’s just made of hurting: “you jump like you got burnt.”

Steve’s next inhale is a sharp gasp of a thing. Eddie tries very hard not to feel something like victory to get somereaction from him.

He fails miserably.

“Robin hisses at me when I see her,” Eddie keeps on, because he wasn’t lying, the gates have been obliterated, there are no guardrails left for the way his heart’s such a mess and it’s spilling onto everything, into everything; “and I’m convinced she’s basically your subconscious manifest when it comes to who she turns her venom on,” and even Eddie would have missed it if he hadn’t been fixated unwavering on Steve in all of his glory, now: those lips don’t quirk, exactly, but they move the slightest bit.

Eddie, again, didn’t really think that his heart could learn to break in any more ways, but: here he is.

“You didn’t pick up the phone—” he damn near fucking moans because it hurts, it still hurts, it might always hurt—

“You didn’t leave a message.”

Steve’s volley is clipped, a not-so-subtle indictment, gaze flicking upward when he speaks and Eddie’s caught in those sad fucking eyes so swift and complete, it feels like all that he is might be forfeit in their hold.

He’s okay with that, though. He’s been okay with that—more than.

It’s when he’s nothing to that gaze, when Steve can’t even bring himself to look, that Eddie starts to crumble.

“The machine isn’t on,” he breathes out, barely a whisper, and Steve just blinks, then looks back at the ground and Eddie…Eddie’s not this strong, y’know? Eddie’s been barely anything for weeks, in so many ways, and he…he can’t just keep holding himself together when all he sees is Steve in pain, when his own pain makes him weak on top of everythingbegs.

“Steve,” he murmurs, nothing short of a plea for fucking mercy, for this man to take pity and maybe just explain a little, help Eddie understand where it all went wrong; “talk to me.”

And Eddie isn’t expecting it when it happens, given the mostly-stoic mask Steve’s perfected to keep him at bay: but when Steve breathes in deep and the motion, the sound of it shatters around something broken like a sob?

Eddie breaks right along with it.

“Jesus,” he half-gasps; “you need to sit down, sweetheart, come on,” because Steve’s shaking, fucking shaking where he stands; “here, I—”

And Eddie reaches, hand fucking trembling as he forces himself to keep enough distance for it to have to be Steve’s choice to touch, because if Steve doesn’t want him, if Steve doesn’t want any of him, ever, then Eddie has to learn that’s what his world is, that’s what his world will always be, no matter how his heart aches with it all and—

Steve steps, leans, and Eddie doesn’t need more assent than that; feels his nerves light up when Steve gives into his touch, doesn’t shy from the way Eddie’s grip tightens on his arms as he walks them slow from the door to the living room, to the couch where he settles Steve carefully near where the throw pillows will cushion him; reins himself in from finding a blanket he knows is in the cabinet hidden by the TV and wrapping Steve up tight in it, keeps himself from sitting next to him too close, stops himself from gathering Steve in his arms, but…he can’t go too far.

He can’t.

“This okay?” Eddie asks gently as he can when he settles down the shortest distance away that he can justify, that he thinks he can get away with; Steve doesn’t stop him, doesn’t react and Eddie’ll fucking take that.

He doesn’t even wholly-consciously put his hand, palm-up, on the cushion between them; certainly doesn’t expect anything but for Steve to scoot further from it once he realizes it’s there, but then—

Then Steve’s hand is landing in Eddie’s, and Eddie…after the shock settles, he fucking folds his grip around Steve so goddamn tight.

And Steve doesn’t fucking flinch away.

“Talk to me, Stevie,” Eddie breathes out, his heart doing wild things for the way it feels to touch that skin again, even so slight, so innocent: it’s everything. “Stevie, please,” and he wasn’t above begging before; with Steve’s hand in his he’s sure as shit not above it, now.

Eddie thinks he’s holding out for nothing, then he scolds himself—he’s not holding out for nothing, he’s got Steve’s hand in his hand, he can feel Steve’s pulse at the wrist and yeah it’s too heavy, it’s too fast and all Eddie ever wanted to was to be the safe place that Steve’s tension could ease into but the proof of life, of Steve, here, with him, is enough, it’s enough and Eddie is a rich man beyond measure, he’s, he is, it’s—

“I’m,” Eddie jumps a little, clings tighter to the palm pressed against his own when that voice scratches low into the space between them, and then starts to bleed feeling deep and unbridled when Steve whispers harsh:

“It was already so fucking hard, before I loved you.”

And Eddie…look.

Eddie’s felt ice run through him before. He’s felt it when he ran terrified from what it meant to face down death. He’s felt it in another dimension as the bat bites stole the life from him. He’s felt it in his room because he’d lost the sun he’d shaped his world to orbit around, to draw life from.

But…Eddie’s not sure he’s felt it take him over quite like it does just now; like it does when he has to ask, because there’s nothing else for it, he has to know and so he has to be the one to invite the ice into all he holds dear and maybe fucking ruin them both when he says it, pushes them past this point of no return:

“What’s hard, Stevie?”

And he waits, again, and tries not to fall for being too greedy, for getting too much when he’s grown horribly accustomed to nothing, and he should just give thanks for the way he can hear Steve breathe, a fucking miracle, a gift; he doesn’t dwell on just how much the idea of Steve answering, of Steve speaking more and telling Eddie what went wrong, where Eddie maybe went wrong—

“Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” is what Steve says, plain like reciting a law of physics, a rule of the universe. “And I wasn’t even in love with you yet.”

Eddie…feels bowled over and a little light-headed. Steve…loved him? He knew he loved him like he loved the Party at large, fought for them all, would stupidly give his whole fucking life for each and every one of them but…this kinda sounds like more, and maybe Eddie’s just got rose-colored glasses over it all, maybe he’s suffocating himself under the veil of wishful thinking—

But then he sobers because: loved. Loved. Maybe it’s just what he’s saying and how he’s saying it, like, incidental.

But it also sounds…past tense. And Eddie’s heart, like; Eddie thinks somehow his heart wails for the idea that he had this singular, precious man, maybe even his singular, precious heart, all this time, but now, now he doesn’t, and—

“I can’t sleep. I’m just…” Steve shudders, and Eddie, he has to just grip harder to Steve’s hand; if he can’t hold to more of him, he has to hold hard to what he’s allowed, what he does have.

“I woke up next to you, the most random morning, nothing out of the ordinary,” Steve says it, voice a little distant, all of it sounding more like a story than anything save for how Eddie can still feel Steve’s rabbit heart under his fingertips.

“And I realized how fucking deep I was in this,” and Steve turns Eddie’s hand a little in his own, spins one of his rings like he used to and Eddie’s breath catches for it because it feels too intimate, it feels too right, like a dream that’ll fade so fast, that’ll decimate him all over again, what’s left of him, in an instant when it’s gone again.

“So fast, I know,” and Steve says it like he has to justify his heart like this, and Eddie’s struck with the stark realization of just how well he must have been able to hide what he thought he’d been broadcasting to the fucking cosmos despite his best efforts not to be too much, or too intense, or too insane.

Not to broadcast to the world the obvious truth that his heart got rewired early to beat in the rhythm that spelled Steve Harrington out in the goddamn stars—but Steve doesn’t seem to have seen it. Or maybe…didn’t believe what it was if he did catch a glimpse.

Fuck.

“And it was never about, like, what if you didn’t feel the same, or weren’t ready, that’s not, I mean,” Steve tosses his head a little, and it’s not just that the concept is already absolutely absurd—how could Eddie know Steve, truly come to know Steve, and be anything but ready to offer all that he is to him in half-a-blink?—but it’s more than that, it’s that Eddie can feel that it’s just going to get worse, that it’s going to be more devastating when Steve finishes that thought—

“I’m used to that, I wasn’t planning on saying anything, at least not yet.”

That. That is more devastating, because how can Steve be used to not being loved with everything, it never fails to break Eddie when it’s pointed out, when he’s reminded that so many people had hurt him, had failed him, and now, now…had Eddie done it too, without ever meaning—

But even more than all of that, fucking selfishly: Steve had been thinking of things in terms of not yet. Of a future, where they had love.

Eddie’s heart’s fucking sick with it, reluctant to pump at all because it just…it just feels pointless.

What had he fucking done?

“It wasn’t something I even planned on having change how I acted, really,” Steve’s continuing on, like the things he’s saying aren’t earth-shattering, soul-torching; “realizing I was like, whole-heart, soul-deep in love with you was…” and Steve just shakes his head and oh, oh but his lips kinda curve, he kinda smiles, and it’s…

It’s full of so much regret, like, a wistful thing in the worst goddamn way, and Eddie doesn’t think he can recover from this. He…doesn’t even know where to start.

“It wasn’t that new, right, it didn’t just happen, the only sudden part was putting it together, like, consciously,” Steve lays out like he’s making a map to try and explain to Eddie how his heart moves, as if Eddie hasn’t been making a study of that singular thing for months, planning to continue it for a lifetime, and apparently still failing to realize so much that he’s missed.

“So it’s not like, I mean…” Steve worries his lower lip; “I’d still treat you the same, y’know? I didn’t have to change. And you didn’t have to know.”

“But,” Eddie can’t hold himself back before his mouth moves before he thinks twice, automatic because; “you…”

The way Steve changed, the way they changed was…that’s the reason for all of it, and if Steve specifically hadn’t—

“Oh don’t worry,” Steve bites, so fucking sarcastic, so dismayed and so…goddamn resigned, unconscionably disgusted:

“I’m fucking well aware.”

And Steve folds in on his himself, and Eddie…Eddie can’t maintain the distance anymore. If Steve doesn’t want it, he’ll move back but he, he needs to be close enough that Steve could fall into him, if he wanted—

It takes less than a heartbeat, and given how Eddie’s pulse is auditioning for the role of a caged bird sobbing, it’s swift: as soon as he’s close enough to think he can feel how Steve’s body moves the air around him just for breathing, never once letting go of Steve’s hand in the process, Steve’s following the slightest pull Eddie gives on that hand, and falling into Eddie’s side.

And fuck if Eddie doesn’t wrap around him the instant he’s pressed against him; if he doesn’t tuck Steve into him and keep him under his arm; doesn’t sink into and relish the way the weight of Steve’s head goes just to the side of his chest, can undoubtedly hear the cacophony inside, and…he just presses harder, nearer.

Eddie might fucking cry.

“Nightmares,” Steve finally croaks, and the way it resonates, the way it hangs foreboding as a horror is thick in Eddie veins. “Like I’ve never had before, not after any of it,” and he shivers, ducks somehow closer into Eddie’s collarbone, like he means to hide and of course Eddie will keep him, will shield him, will protect him from the whole goddamn world. For anything and everything.

For fucking ever.

“I know what your chest feels like without a heartbeat I can find,” Steve turns his face further into Eddie’s chest, will damn well fucking feel the skip of that heartbeat that’d be a trial not to find just now, and oh, oh just: Stevie.

“What your mouth feels like without breath coming out, what your lips feel like cold,” and he sounds so tormented, so wrecked but then beyond that: disassembled and left for carrion, unforgivable—Steve should only be treasured, not taken apart and…discarded.

Eddie…Eddie didn’t discard him, he would never.

So how the fuck did they end up here, like this, where Eddie’s just trying to hold Steve close enough, steady enough that he can staunch all the invisible, undeniable bleeding in him?

“I know what your blood tastes like,” Steve breathes into the notch between his clavicles; “because it was all over when I tried to breathe for you.”

Steve’s mouth’s right there when Eddie’s breath caches, when the whine brews just under his lips where they drag sloppy against Eddie’s shirt, wet on the cotton and so alive, so alive—

“I know how my heart stopped when I thought it had all be for nothing,” Steve whispers there, and then holds where Eddie knows he can feel the pulse; “that I’d failed you, that—”

And Steve shakes his head, and Eddie makes to speak, to tell Steve he could never fail him, not ever, but Steve seems to have broken his own floodgates, now, and he spills:

“But that’s wasn’t new, right, so I wasn’t expecting any of it to shift, y’know? Like, if anything I figured, with love in the mix it’d be more, like, fear of rejection, shit from, just, with all the girls, with Nance, like all that old high school bullshit would be what reared its head,” he laughs, the most tragic sort of agony in the sound where it never should be, where there should only ever be Steve’s joy:

“But nope. Nope, my scrambled goddamn brain decided fuck that, let’s try something else.”

And Eddie can’t seem to get any words out anymore, now, much as he wants to. His mouth’s too dry, throat too tight. He just clings, clings so tight and fucking…prays that Steve can feel in his hold, in his heartbeat, in everything between them here and now, that he loves all of Steve. That all he is, is committed to making sure that Steve doesn’t hurts like this anymore, ever again.

If Steve will let him.

“I didn’t want you to leave,” Steve whispers, “I never,” and he shakes his head, smashes his lips over his teeth, jaw tense enough to twitch and Eddie just wants to fix it, just wants to ease all of it and make Steve okay, and somehow make up for how he—despite never meaning to, despite never choosing to be—seems to be the reason Steve’s in such turmoil, such pain.

“I can see how it looked like that, like, I hear what you’re saying and I get it, but,” Steve licks his lips, brow furrowing in the way Eddie loves to smooth but he doesn’t think he can, now, doesn’t think he should and it’s twice the wound just to watch like this: to know it might not be welcome, and to know that Steve may have to hurt here, beyond Eddie’s capacity to soothe, in trying to work through what it is that’s gutting him so harsh.

“When you’d reach for me, sometimes it would jolt me out of the, like, fog of it all,” Steve finally says it, tells him without looking to make eye contact but he’s tracing Eddie’s fingers, now, and it feels…significant; “because it’s the worst when I sleep, when I see all the what-ifs, but when I wake up it always lingers, and I get lost in it all the same, it all hits just a little different from what’s actually happening and then from the dreams, how it was when I’d watched just seconds before, when you’d,” and as much the words dry up in an instant, choked on a swallowed-down sob, Eddie can hear the obvious ringing out as if it was ripped straight from that precious fucking chest, raw and bloody:

When in the dreams, you’d died.

“You in reality was just, so opposite to what everything in my head sticks on?” Steve breathes, less a question than a plea for Eddie to accept what he’s saying, to understand and believe, as if Eddie would, could do anything else; as if the way the sheer truth of it in Steve’s aching tone isn’t soaking into the layers of Eddie’s fucking heart and flaying the pieces apart in real time. “The echos, the, umm,” Steve swallows, and Eddie cannot look away from the way how he swallows stretches the skin of his throat; “the ghosts of the horror shows I get on repeat every time I close my eyes,” he screws his eyes shut, then, like it’s muscle memory, like it’s ordained and unavoidable, to recoil from the magnitude of what haunts him in the night.

“Like, how could you be touching me, when you were…”

Steve lifts their clasped hands to his mouth and Eddie nearly comes apart for how it feels, but then at the very same time he aches for the way Steve’s hand can’t wholly stop trembling, even as he pulls Eddie’s pulsepoint to the swell of his lips where he murmurs:

“How could you be warm?”

Eddie watches, refuses to blink, as Steve holds there, breathes there, nuzzles a little against Eddies wrist and drags his lips there, back and forth and Eddie might fucking die here and now, like this, because it’s perfection, but at the same time, it’s devastation incarnate.

It’s pure fucking pain.

“I didn’t want to make you feel how the,” Steve’s throat clicks for how hard he swallows; “how the things in my head felt. Especially after the first few times,” he shakes his head, and Eddie can taste his own pulse for how hard it beats at the base of his throat; “I couldn’t tell what was real, when you were against me. Because it felt more real then anything, but I’d just watched you,” and again, the unspoken is louder than words themselves could ever be:

But I’d just watched you die.

Eddie wants nothing more than to slice himself open somehow, and gather Steve inside him and hold him closer than close, so that he can know all the reassurance he needs and Eddie can know it too, at the very same time; so they can know each other’s lifeblood as close as their own, because for Eddie, Steve’s is closer, means more than his own: he just wants to gather Steve close and keep him so fucking safe. Keep the whole of him, unwavering.

“It scared the hell out of me, but then the first time I woke you up,” Steve closes his eyes, bites at his lip again.

“You were out of it, I think I scared you, too, and I couldn’t even see everything beautiful about you without seeing,” and Steve’s voice is a harrowing thing, is so fucking gutted out, and Eddie just wants to be…Eddie just needs to go back to that moment, he can’t even remember the moment where he didn’t even know he failed to make Steve feel better, safer, not fucking alone and all he wants is to go back and find that turning point and turn it on its head. Make it right.

But then Steve is gabbing his hand, and lacing their fingers so tight it fucking hurts in the best possible way, before he breathes out a whisper:

“It was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, when it actually happened,” and they both know he means the bats, and the blood, and the red lightning sky; “but it’s like my brain got stuck there, like it stopped at the losing and not what came after,” and Steve brings Eddie’s hands up to his lips and less kisses, more buries his face in Eddie’s hands and just breathes before he moans a little around the words left:

“It got stuck, and it just runs from there.”

And if that’s not the simplest line of pure ruinous hurt that Eddie’s ever heard, holy fuck.

“Stevie,” and it’s Eddie who moans around the word, now, because god, his baby’s been aching with all this for…for how long?

“You hold your breath sometimes when we kiss,” Steve says, more incidental on the back of a breath, mostly air around the moving of his lips; “and when my head’s been like this, just, soaked in this, I can’t—”

And, oh.

Oh, Steve’s…Steve’s telling him why. He’s explaining why he, why he did all the…why he turned away, why he pulled back, and oh, oh god—

“Robin doesn’t know all the details,” he pushes on, and Eddie can see how he’s biting down on his tongue fucking hard behind his lips; “I’m sorry she’s been,” he huffs a little, tips his head as he circles his thumb a little against Eddie’s knuckle; “growly at you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie breathes, cupping Steve’s face because he…he needs to, he needs to show him he’s cherished, that Eddie’s heart is his, fucking beats for him and belongs to him and he, he is…

“Baby, don’t be sorry about anything, please don’t be sorry,” Eddie begs because, because fuck: “I’m the one who’s sorry,” and he is, he’s so sorry, he didn’t know but he never wants Steve to hurt and he’s only made Steve hurt harder because he thought he understood and was doing what he could to help and in truth he was doing anything but—

“I couldn’t look at you because my heart hurt,” Steve turns his face into the palm Eddie’s framed against his cheek; “and I know you stepped away because I can’t get my shit together, because I’m losing my fucking mind and,” but he didn’t, he didn’t and he wants to say it but Steve’s barreling on, convinced as fuck and that’s, that’s not okay; “and I know, of course I know that it’s better that you don’t go down with me, I know that. But fuck,” Steve laughs in that terrible, self-sacrificing way that has no idea what he’s worth, what he means:

“I don’t know what hurts more, the dreams or the waking hours when I see you and you aren’t, you don’t feel,” Steve’s words catch again, and he shakes his head into Eddie’s hold, breathes as Eddie strokes his cheek and holds him, just holds him until he can say the rest:

“Losing you like that is worse, but it’s not real,” Steve swallows hard, keeps his eyes clenched shut tight like that’s the only way he can manage to keep going; “losing you like this is better, because you’re still,” and Steve’s fingers find the pulse at his wrist again—because somewhere, it’s still beating:

“But then, it’s the truth, and,” Steve’s voice cracks and god, this man, this beautiful man…

“It just hurts,” Steve says “so goddam much and—”

“That’s not the truth.”

Eddie can’t keep waiting, just to let Steve keep circling this horrific pit of agony, for all the things they both misunderstood, for all the hurting they’ve both breathed through too long.

No more. Steve blinks up at him, and…yeah.

Eddie’s turn, now.

“I am yours,” Eddie pledges like his whole life’s behind it, and in truth: it is. It absolutely is.

“And I feel so fucking much Stevie-baby,” Eddie whispers, because there’s something profound in it, and there’s something magical and beautiful and sacred inside all Eddie feels so much of, and it needs to be revered accordingly as he traces Steve’s cheekbone, the bow of his lips with nothing less than worship. “I didn’t think people were built to love like this. I’ve never seen it. I didn’t know it was a thing to feel at all until now.”

He means it. Steve’s gaping at him a little, marveling a little even, maybe, but it’s not an unbelievable thing. Because this is Eddie Munson’s heart. For Steve Harrington.

This is the only thing.

“And I am sorry,” Eddie exhales all that he has in him to give to an apology because he is sorry, he thinks that sorrymight be seeping out his pores: whatever he did to cause this, whatever extent of a part he played, as much as he never wished or planned to.

He’s fucking sorry.

“I didn’t leave, I just,” he tries to explain, tries to prove somehow that no matter how fucked it all came out to be, he could never leave his Stevie.

“I didn’t leave you, not at all like you’re thinking,” he kisses Steve’s temple, and then draws him close to speak into his skin, like he can press it deep enough for Steve to know without a shred of doubt as he strokes Steve’s hair, tangles his fingers and holds him dear, breathes him in.

“I thought maybe you needed space, but I should have asked,” Eddie laments with a waver in his voice, eyes watering because fuck, fuck:

“I wanted to be what you needed so bad I hurt you on the way,” and isn’t that the fucking kicker? Isn’t that the gut punch, the unbearable truth at the core.

“Then I stayed away, because all signs pointed to it being me,” Eddie murmured into the crown of Steve’s head; “but that was just because I’m scared, because loving you this much is bigger than I can hold sometimes,” and he makes himself pull back so he can meet Steve’s eyes, red-rimmed to match Eddie’s where they’re actively streaming now as he breathes out the truth of his deepest, truest fucking soul:

“You’re the best thing I could ever ask for and I,” and he bends his forehead to Steve’s, breathes there for a handful of beats:

“I didn’t want to push you, and ruin it,” he confesses as the weakness that drove him to cause so much suffering, in only hoping to help. “I didn’t want to lose you, because I’m selfish, and having you taught me a whole new level of what made breathing worthwhile,” and he brings Steve’s hands both to his chest now, presses them tight to the shaky rise and fall, the tremorous hammering underneath as he speaks clear the only truth he really knows:

“Heart and soul I love you, Steve.”

And Steve’s hand on his chest clenches, and Steve’s breathing stumbles, and Eddie loves him.

So goddamn much.

“I didn’t mean to leave you, I would never mean to,” Eddie tells him, shaky and watery with the tears that are still falling; “I thought I was doing what was right,” he huffs, because, nice fucking work on that one, Munson, definitely bet on the winning goddamn horse there, Jesus Christ.

“I never, ever wanted to hurt you, I could never want to hurt you, I’d rather cut my own arm off, my own heart out,” and he turns his head the slightest bit, so he can find skin to kiss how much he means this into:

“I am so fucking sorry.”

Steve chases his mouth and Eddie leans, keeps himself pressed up close to speak straight against him as he gathers Steve’s hands at his chest a little tighter, tries to convey everything he might do with his eyes with the rest of his body now, with the way his voice floods with the heart of him whole:

“Could you ever,” he stammers a little, because he…he doesn’t want to face what it means if the answer to what he’s about to ask is set to break him apart all over again.

But he loves this man, and now that he has what could be a chance—Steve can’t be leaning into his touch, can’t be telling him all of this started because it hurts too much to lose Eddie, with there being no possible chance—but Eddie might have a chance to have Steve back, to keep Steve for always.

Like fuck he’s gonna be a coward at risk losing this again.

“Could you, y’know, like, ever think about giving me a chance to make up for it?” Eddie’s voice is so small, but so earnest, because he will do anything. “To fix it, and prove I’ll never hurt you again if I can help it,” and he will, he will do whatever it takes to prove what his heart and soul knows through to the bottom, bright inside his bones:

“Fuck, I’d break myself in half before I hurt you again, baby,” he promises, vows deeper than anything—

“I don’t want that.”

Steve blinks at him, eyes fucking intense, and Eddie stills, his heart plummeting because…well, of course it was possible, and of course Eddie understands, he hurt Steve in a way he doesn’t know if he can wholly forgive himself for, in a way that’s maybe worse for how Eddie’d tried for anything but, such a gross misstep and he—

“I don’t want you broken,” Steve reaches, flips his palm from atop Eddie’s heavy thumping heart and grasps, brings Eddie’s hand to his lips and kisses there, pinning Eddie with his gaze through his lashes:

“Not ever, not for anything,” Steve says it heavy, emphasizes each word with intention: “never for me.”

“You’re the only thing that’s worth it,” Eddie counters, just as firm, just as committed to that truth with his whole goddamn chest: “worth anything.”

Worth everything; and Eddie thinks Steve hears that too; hears it all.

And it’s Steve who’s reaching, now, who’s framing Eddie’s face and pulling him in and Eddie sinks into it, falls into the way that Steve moves him, takes control in those subtle, automatic ways and fuck if Eddie didn’t quite realize just how much he missed this part, the way that Steve commanded the moment and tipped his chin just so to kiss deeper, to draw moans from spaces inside Eddie that he didn’t even know he possessed: electric.

In-fucking-toxicating.

“Come home?” Steve asks-but-tells him soft, earnest; “what I do want, is for you to come home.”

And fuck if Eddie wants anything else in the world; fuck if that isn’t everything.

Home. With his Stevie.

He chokes on a fucking sob and he wraps around Steve so goddamn tight.

“Thank you,” Eddie presses lips to his jaw, peppers kisses up to his temple, across his brow, down the bridge of his nose, worshipful and dazed, so viscerally relieved, like a noose he didn’t know was tightening around his neck was suddenly torn free and he can breathe, he can breathe, he’s still got the best fucking reason to breathe.

“Thank you,” he mouths at Steve’s lips as he makes his way down his chin to his neck to worship that space with this gratitude, his devotion as he swears deeper than he’s ever even considered committing to anything:

“Promise you won’t regret it.”

“I don’t regret it,” Steve shakes his head like the idea’s anathema; “maybe it was hard, some of it, and maybe it was getting harder, worse than I could keep a handle on, but without you,” and Steve’s voice breaks a little, and he shakes his head harder, more like he’s trying to get rid of a nightmare, his eyes glassy when he looks back up:

“Without you is so much worse, Eds.”

And Eddie’s heart jumps because he’s not okay with that hurting.

But also because Steve…Steve’s saying outright, after all of this, that with Eddie is a better way to be.

Fucking sue him if that hits him just so, okay?

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I could ever want a life without you in it,” Steve whispers into his temple, teasing his hairline. “Fucking unthinkable, baby.”

And Eddie shivers, because…he’d hoped this could be where they’d end up, but he…he was scared. So scared that he’d lost it, that there was no coming back.

“God, I missed you,” Eddie breathes, shaky as fuck, wet on the edges at best; “every second of the fucking day.”

“Me too,” Steve meets him, a little sniffly in his own right; “so much, Eddie. So much.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says again, wobbly, because he is, he fucking is—

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Steve chides him with a peck at the bow of his lips; “I believe you, that you thought it was the right thing.”

“Because it meant making you happy, not for me,” Eddie needs to he sure Steve knows that part, knows it in his fucking bones. “I would never leave you because I wanted to,” Eddie whispers, kinda fucking horrified at just the idea; “nothing could make me want that.”

He cups Steve cheek and lets Steve lean into how it fits just so before he murmurs low, still shaky:

“Barely even survived it,” because fuck, now that it’s over, Eddie can appreciate how much it took from him, being away from Steve, and when he couldn’t even see why. “You’re the sun, Stevie.”

And fuck, if that’s not the truth. He is the center of the galaxy. He is all life in the universe.

Everything.

“Steve,” Eddie finally disturbs the sweet bubble of yes, right, this is right that they’re holding between them, and only because he…

He can’t risk this. Ever again. And he’s not foolish enough to think this thing’s fixed, that it’s one and done. But Eddie, and his devotion to Steve, and his love: that’s not ever going to be done.

Loving Steve is not something he is fucking ever going to be done doing. Done drowning in gratitude for the goddamn privilege of.

“I need you to promise me you’re never going to keep this, anything that hurts like this, locked up ever again, okay?” he runs his thumbs along the crests of Steve’s cheekbones. “I am here with you, I want to be here for everything, all of it, always,” and he kisses just between Steve’s brows, holds there for a few moments before he leans back and lifts Steve’s chin on his fingertips to look him straight in the eyes, see down to his soul entire:

“I’m never not going to want to help, to try and make the hurting go away, or at least find a way to help make it easier to bear,” and he means it, and he holds Steve’s gaze firm until he can see the conviction in his own veins start to color Steve’s irises brighter, to be taken in and believed.

“You could tell me to fuck off forever,” he tucks his cheek along Steve’s, burrows a little on the crook of his neck to breathe in the scent of him, to feel his blood move under the surface; “like…leaving you alone this time was a bridge too far, go to fucking hell Munson. You could come to me in twenty fucking years and I’d still drop everything just to make you hurt less.”

And Steve cranes his neck, opens up that space for him and lets Eddie fit there closer and just breathe, breathe, breathe, tucks Eddie under his chin like the tables are turned and…maybe they are. Or else: no, not maybe. They both were hurting. And they both love too much to let any of that hurt be anything but tended to, but dressed and cleaned and soothed, now that they have each other in arm’s-reach. Now that they can press each other close and hold and be, and remember all over again what life feels like where it sings in one body held tight to another, when it’s loved this full.

Steve keeps him there, lets him get his bearings, before Eddie inhales extra deep so he’s got Steve in his lungs when he makes himself pull back; gathers Steve to him again, now, and it’s…it’s just as much a comfort. It doesn’t matter who’s in whose arms. So long as they’re here.

So long as they’re them

“This is,” and Eddie makes damn sure that his hands are on Steve and nowhere else, that he’s holding onto Steve, that his fingers are locked with Steve’s, that he’s entangled to the point where it’d hurt to get out but he’s never going to try so it’s irrelevant. He needs Steve to know, and never question that Eddie’s never going anywhere.

“All this, is heavy, Stevie,” and he’s got his lips pressed to Steve’s hair before Steve can even finish how he makes to tense up; “and it breaks my heart that you’ve been carrying it all on your own.”

And Eddie holds there, holds and keeps Steve so close, until the other man slumps a little, until he gives that little bit of tension and then some back into Eddie, and it feels…it feels like how Eddie imagines someone feels when they exchange vows at the altar, or else, how they want to, how it’s talked about. Because there’s nothing present in this moment save sheer fucking trust, and the willingness to give between two bodies, two souls.

Eddie can’t help but pull him a little closer, duck down to trail his mouth down Steve’s forehead, his cheekbones, the apples of his cheeks, just: show him how much he feels. How much he feels lucky that Steve’s leaning into him, that Steve’s giving him this; this…opportunity to hold him up, too.

The fucking gift of it. Of him.

“So strong, my sweetheart,” Eddie mouths against Steve’s lips, then; “so brave,” and it kinda fucking floors him, really it does, that this man is…all that he is. Fucking superhuman, sometimes, good fucking god.

“But I love you, and that means you never have to shoulder anything alone ever again,” Eddie moves to kiss Steve straight on, properly, and then he lets Steve deepen it as far as he wants: and shit, he wants.

And Eddie cannot put into words what it means to have this again. To have his Steve in his arms, to have him want to be there, to let go in Eddie’s embrace.

“Never alone, baby,” Eddie nips his lower lip when they break apart, gasping; “yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, clear eyed and red-swollen lipped and fuck, he’s exquisite.

“I can’t take back what happened, with Vecna, the first time, or anything before or since,” Eddie needs, all of a sudden, to bare a little more of his heart, to make sure Steve knows all the little crevices of him, so he’ll never fill the gaps in with anything but the unfettered love that’s meant to be there, that lives there always and creates the shape of what Eddie holds in his chest.

“I can’t erase the fuel for your nightmares, and I hate that,” Eddie moans, and Steve’s the one who leans in for his lips this time, who kisses Eddie so fucking thoroughly he feels lighter, he thinks, for the pieces of him blissfully surrendered up on how their mouths meet.

Eddie decidedly does not hate that.

“I do want to die in your arms,” and Eddie’s a little dizzy as he says it, giddy and buoyant with how his heart flutters and maybe another time he’d think twice before being this candid, but not anymore. Not flooded with relief and joy and gratefulness like this, and faced with the real possibility of the future he aches for:

“When we’re old and grey and wrinkled and still so fucking in love that we’re rewriting what it means to feel,” Eddie rips open the whole of his lovedunk heart for Steve to see and hear and know, and maybe even embrace for all the hopeless romance Eddie’s finding real hope for holding in Steve and Steve alone; “making new rules and setting new standards for everyone who comes after us, for how deep and much and well we loved.”

Eddie’s never seen Steve’s eyes shine like they do when he looks up and locks their gazes, takes all that Eddie’s giving, showing: he’s not just witnessing it.

He’s embracing it. He’s fucking eager like Eddie is, and how could Eddie be this lucky, to be welcomed, to be forgiven, to be understood, to be given the chance to earn this for keeps, to hold Steve close and safe to his chest for fucking ever.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, for trying to do it ahead of schedule down there,” Eddie murmurs at the corner of Steve’s mouth, just…just kinda to be close, to feel his breaths as they come; “and then thinking I knew what you needed and fucking it up, here,” and he makes himself draw back, then, to hold Steve’s chin and look him square on, because he needs Steve to see, he needs to hear and know, just, like, one more time, in case it’s the one that sticks strongest, most lasting:

“I never meant to hurt you,” he doesn’t let himself drown in those eyes just now, needs to tether in them and weave himself in the thick glow of them, the way the caramel color swims; “never want to hurt you,” and he lifts his touch to run his thumbs under Steve’s eyes, no tears to wipe but he feels…he feels a need to touch there, delicate, reverent:

“Never want you to hurt.”

“I know,” and Steve wraps his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, holds tight; “I know, babe, thank you,” and Eddie is going to make sure he doesn’t overlook any of this ever again: Steve failing to understand how deep Eddie’s feelings run, how much he means to Eddie, how Eddie’s heart couldn’t even beat right without him, for how much of it’s made up of Steve.

He’s going to make sure Steve knows that the only thanks necessary in what they share is the all-encompassing gratitude. Is just being thankful, for the fact of a love unprecedented.

“Maybe I could,” Eddie throws off the first thing that comes to mind to face how they got here head-on, and maybe he riffs out loud a little, goes with the pull at the base of his heart and leaps, tries to chart the right course to make sure he does get to die in Steve’s arms one day, where they both take their last breaths in the same second and their hearts go to whatever’s next—something other or something quiet, something next or something final—together, always together, never-not-together, ever again:

“Maybe I could hold you tight to me, like, every night, all the time, and now that I know what’s happening here,” he taps Steve’s head lovingly, rests fingertips at the side of Steve’s neck to touch at the pulse as he offers, kinda fucking clumsy, and hopes like hell the depth makes up for it; “then I can be ready to catch you.”

And Steve pulls back, just looks at him, and he feels so dismantled in the best of ways, like being unraveled when the knots holding you up were too tight anyway and then it’s just pure release, and when he sees the soft little hint of a smile on Steve’s lips, blinding in his eyes—it’s everything as Eddie promises from his goddamn cells:

“I will always catch you, Steve.”

And Steve, he just sighs, and falls into Eddie once more—again, the gift of that kind of trust, Eddie will never get over it, or take it for granted—but Steve just falls and burrows into Eddie’s chest, settles at the center and Eddie would put fucking money on the fact that his heart swells to meets that weight, that presence of Steve; that every part of him just knows who’s there to listen and feel. That his beating fucking heart wants, because of how much Eddie wants. How much Eddie knows this man means.

“Maybe we could get a really big shirt,” Eddie muses as he stokes up and down Steve’s spine, spread over Eddie’s whole chest as he is; “and stretch out the neck so we can both fit, then when you wake up and you think,” Eddie pauses, doesn’t want to put those things into words to live in the world any more than they’ve already been forced there.

“But then you’re pressed as close as you can be, and you can feel the truth, and I can hold you until you believe what you feel,” he doesn’t know if that makes sense at all, but Steve’s breaths are damp and warm over the barest ends of the scars that stretched a little farther toward the center of his chest and…fucking hell.

That’s just a heady fucking feeling, y’know? And all Eddie wants is to keep.

“Like, maybe we could try it?”

He’ll try, more than try, just about anything.

“What if I—” and Eddie doesn’t need Steve to finish that thought, he can read the fear, the worry, the resignation that he’ll somehow have some reaction that being held tight to Eddie will make unbearable, maybe even dangerous given just how wide those eyes go.

Eddie’s not gonna let that shit stand anymore. Not ever a-fucking-gain.

“There’s nothing you could possibly do that I’m not ready and willing to catch, and hold so close, and keep so safe. Remember?” He tips Steve’s chin up so he can look at him, drink him in entirely and hold him there until he can read that he’s heard and understood through and through when he vows with his everything:

“Always gonna catch you.”

And Steve’s hands come to Eddie, now, and he writes the moment again, takes control of the momentum in between them and grabs Eddie’s face, draws him into the kind of kiss that lights up his nerves neon bright and sparkling, shimmers through him like pure fucking magic:

“I love you,” Steve breathes in between Eddie’s lips, then goes to pressing that feeling all over, drawing the dopiest grin to Eddie’s whole fucking face:

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” then he braces his palms on Eddie hips, and honestly, Eddie had apparently floated a little bit into the here and now because he hadn’t even wholly processed Steve straddling him until he’s gazing down at him with so much fucking affection:

“Thank you,” and the serious tone he says it in is somehow made, like, twenty-dimensional and all the more significant; “for coming back.”

And Eddie…Eddie doesn’t really understand how that’s something to be thanked for when coming back feels like putting his heart back together again, but: fine.

He can meet the sentiment.

“Thank you, for letting me,” Eddie leans in, kisses Steve’s still-a-little-swollen lips; “for wanting me.”

“I want you forever,” Steve answers, solemn and sure and without hesitation. “I want you,” then he smiles, because maybe they’re a little fucked up to find joy in this sentiment but fuck if it’s anything but the best possible thing Eddie could imagine:

“’Til the day we die.”

“Swear it, sweetheart,” and Eddie isn’t even going to try and deny, or reshape the fact that he’s just gazing at Steve, now, fucking marveling because how can he not?

Why would he do anything but wonder at the goddamn miracle in front of him, perched atop top him, nestled in his chest and safe inside his heart: why the fuck would he do anything else, anything less?

“Stevie, baby,” he exhales a little shaky, leaning into just, just…kiss all of it into Steve’s soul:

“I fuckin’ swear it.”

❤️

✨ also on ao3🖤❤️

for @kultiras🖤

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @grtwdsmwhr @mensch-anthropos-human @@hiei-harringtonmunson @theheadlessphilosopher @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @sadisticaltarts @bumblebeecuttlefishes @shrimply-a-menace @wheneverfeasible @1-tehe-1 @themoonagainstmers @dreamercec @ravenfrog @live-laugh-love-dietrich @stealthysteveharrington @tinyplanet95 @theohohmoment @samsoble @tinyloonyteacups @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @pretend-theres-a-name-here @dragoon-ze-great @warlordess @notaqueenakhaleesi @pukner @captain--low @theintrovertedintrovert @tillystealeaves @depressed-freak13 @yourmom-isgay @wordynerdygurl

divider credit here and here

I need and will have this art in my mind, while writing fanfiction.

Apocalypse

Actor Steve and normal guy Eddie modern AU inspired by this post @kingdomvel

Part 3 || Part 4

▪️▪️▪️

For the first time in years Steve found himself free on a Friday night. Between working, going on press tours, doing stupid interviews, making appearances at bougie Hollywood parties and, on occasion, attempting to go on dates, his time was always occupied by something. Filming had yet to really pick up since there were some permit issues getting a hold of time and space for shooting at Wrigley Field. Another plus to getting his role, with the rewards yet to be reaped. Playing baseball on Wrigley Field. So his morning was merely scheduled training with the other cast members, training as a baseball team to better act as one made sense. That also meant he got home to his way too big and too empty house in Malibu just before roomie dinner should the stars align to have one. Robin, despite her being his extremely talented PR manager, was also his roommate and best friend. She had her night filled with organizing press tours and interviews for the new movie, but he had an inkling it was more to do with Robin wanting to spend more time with LA Times Journalist, Nancy Wheeler.

“It’s just a business dinner! Don’t you want someone who will actually ask good questions for once and not shit like ‘what hair products do you use’ or ‘what diet are you on?’” Robin exclaimed as she fumbled putting on her boots.

“Yes, but at this business dinner,” Steve air-quoted, “you should really ask her on a normal date. Take her to a museum or something.”

“It’s not that easy,” Robin retorted.

“It is. The worst she can say is no, and even then I don’t think she will.”

“Ugh, I’m leaving now. Call me if you need anything but wait til after dinner.” She said as she walked out the front door.

“Have fun! Don’t work too hard!” Steve shouted as she closed it making sure to quickly stick her tongue out at him before she did.

And that was that. He was on his own for the first time in years and he had no idea what to do with himself. All the events, all the work, were distractions from his lonely life. He didn’t mind leaving Hawkins, getting the hell out of dodge when the opportunity came. His parents signed him onto a few commercials as a kid and didn’t think anything of it until some random talent scout called the house when his parents happened to be home, for once. They agreed to whatever was discussed and practically shipped him away. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t recall the last time either of them called that didn’t involve asking him for money or a favor. At least he was finally 22, so getting a random case of red wine delivered was no issue, not that getting any type of alcohol or drugs was hard to do for a rich young celebrity in LA.

He settled in his living room the best he could, the Tuscan style house provided some form of coziness, but the tiled floor made sure that regardless of the warm orange terracotta an underlining coldness was never out of reach. Steve never really knew how to live in his house, he bought it for the ocean view and Robin loved the hot tub in the backyard. He had the money, so it was bought. The flatscreen hung above a luxurious fireplace that was never used, because why the fuck would he need a fireplace in California but it was still pretty. Thankfully the remote was on the wooden coffee table and he doom-scrolled through all of the streaming services, cringing anytime he caught a glimpse of a shitty B-movie he appeared in. Part of him missed babysitting more and more, the other part did enjoy having money that was his own, but money couldn’t buy genuine company. He refilled his glass for… shit how many was that? Three? No four. Wait, three. Three glasses of wine.

He gulped down much too large of a sip, ready to let the wine take him entirely when his phone buzzed. Steve fumbled to get it out of his pocket, forgetting entirely that he was still in jeans. A single Instagram notification appeared so he opened it, happy to see a recent message from Batking.

Batking: so I watched Paladin…

Steve.hrrgtn: and?!

Batking: woah, was not expecting a response that fast. Arent celebrities supposed to be busy on friday nights?

Steve.hrrgtn: u caught me on a rare occasion.

Steve.hrrgtn: so utilize it, you have my full attention. Whatd you think?

Batking: …

Batking: it was amazing

Steve.hrrgtn: thats it? Tell me more!

Batking: what do u want to know?

Steve.hrrgtn: everything! You clearly play d&d or at least know a lot about it. Was it accurate? Idk, what did you enjoy?

Steve was overcome with a giddiness he hadn’t felt since his first kiss. Sure it was for a tv show he was in for a few episodes but exciting nonetheless. He waited as Batking typed their response.

Batking: It was the most accurate movie portrayal of D&D ive ever seen. Im thoroughly impressed, and I’m a hard man to impress.

Steve.hrrgtn: is that so?

Batking: you’re damn right it is.

Batking: you really did crush it. To see the paladin go from being in his element on the battlefield to getting completely stripped of everything with nothing left but his values to keep him going… wow. It kept me on my toes, wondering if he’ll getting beaten down enough to break his oath. But NO! The conviction you display, the way you would get up after every failure, every obstacle, im mesmerized. You were mesmerizing

Steve became extremely aware of his cheeks after that message. He couldn’t tell if he was actually blushing or if all the wine raised his body temperature. Either way he was flattered. He watched as three bouncing dots danced next to Batking’s profile picture, a doodled vampire bat with an itty bitty crown inbetween its ears on a lined piece of paper. He clicked on the picture, leading him to Batking’s profile where he carefully read each element of the guy’s bio.

🦇Welcome to Hell 🔥 you have entered my domain… you have been warned

There were a few links below: Spotify, Youtube and one for DMGuild. Steve didn’t know what the last one was but he was planning on checking it out later anyways. As he scrolled down most of the dude’s pictures were of friends, guitars and other musical equipment, stray cats, random craft/construction projects, D&D battlemaps and poorly designed posters by local bars for open mic nights he would be playing at. Not much of the guy himself from what he could tell until he came across one of a slender guy in a white and black baseball tee with a red skull and yellow horns that ready Hellfire Club. The guy was sticking his entire tongue out and held up both hands in the rock and roll fist. It was from several years ago and the caption read: Welcome to Hellfire! Each new member gets to make their own original t-shirt. Meet me in the art room after school this friday @3:30pm.

Steve smiled, but sadness crept in. He wondered if Dustin ever got to meet this guy, they’d get along so well he could feel it. Steve was about to scroll through his contacts to see if he could find Mrs.Henderson’s number but a banner notification from Batking distracted him.

Batking: i dont think i blinked the entire time. Maybe i just forgot to? I cant tell. Im higher than i expected tbh

Steve.hrrgtn: can i trade u? I have wine

Batking: red or white?

Steve.hrrgtn: red

Batking: pass. It all tastes the same to me

Steve.hrrgtn: does it matter? Itll get u drunk either way

Batking: if you want weed so bad why don’t you get some? Dont u live in California? Am i to sit here and read your messages as you squander your well deserved paladin money on wine instead of weed. Tsk tsk tsk

Steve laughed, a true LOL. What he wouldn’t give to just meet this person. No one made him laugh besides Robin.

Steve.hrrgtn: how are you this funny?

Batking: what can i say? I’m but a humble court jester put on this earth do one thing only.

Steve.hrrgtn: what would that be, sir jester?

Batking: to entertain royalty. Royalty such as yourself.

Steve.hrrgtn: i thought that was my job? What is acting if not being paid to entertain

Batking: fair point

Batking: wait if im not a jester what does that make me?

Batking: dont tell me that the Steve Harrington is about to trigger an identity crisis. At least send me cali kush first 😭😭

Steve.hrrgtn: sorry, best i can do is 11 bottles of Cabernet sauvignon

Batking: great. now you have a sense of humor!? You need to come with a warning: rich, attractive, decent personality AND funny.

Steve being too infatuated and tipsy to stop himself replied:

Steve.hrrgtn: 😊

Steve.hrrgtn: wait! Decent?

Batking: I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. Forgive me for being just a tad skeptical. This thing we got going is still a little unfathomable.

Ok fair. Steve nodded to himself, Batking had a point. He was getting a little carried away with just how comfortable he was acting toward this guy who he still didn’t know the real name of. Speaking of which…

Steve.hrrgtn: what’s your name

Batking: not so subtle change of topic

Steve.hrrgtn: sorry

Batking: it’s ok. Wine?

Steve.hrrgtn: your name is wine?

Batking: hahahahhaha no

Batking: …why do u want to know

Steve.hrrgtn: u know mine

Batking: true. Ok I’ll tell you, but under one condition

Steve.hrrgtn: ok????

Batking: if u remember a Dustin Henderson at all, it would mean the world to him if you gave him a call. Even just messaged him. He sings praises of u. I couldn’t believe him, not until this. And look i have no filter rn and im probably being way more vulnerable with u than im comfortable but i’ll tell you my name if you promise me you’ll try to reconnect with him. Just please for my sake, don’t let him know i didn’t watch paladin until you told me to.

Curse the wine, he shouldn’t have finished a bottle by himself without dinner before this. Tears of joy streamed down his face, a burst of feeling that filled his empty husk. Feeling what? Everything? Anything? Maybe it was knowing his silly babysitting gig is actually the most important job he’s ever had, that it’s the job that has fundamentally made him, him. Maybe it’s knowing from this near complete strangers that yea he does know Dustin, that the kid was left in good hands. Maybe that Dustin remembers him and still thinks about him, that the door there is open. Maybe it’s the kindness and courage of Batking to be vulnerable with him not born of manipulation but out of authentic compassion.

Steve.hrrgtn: i promise

Batking: pinky swear

Steve.hrrgtn: what?

Batking: u heard me! Pinky swear!

Steve.hrrgtn: geez! Ok! I pinky swear

Batking: good. Im holding u to it.

Steve.hrrgtn: thank you

Batking: for?

Steve.hrrgtn: idk. For treating me like a person

Batking: you are one, aren’t you?

Good wasn’t that the truth. He is one, but Robin seemed to be the only person that acted that way towards him. That is until… wait this fucker still hasn’t told me his name.

Steve.hrrgtn: i am a person. One that still wants to know your name.

Batking: damn, was hoping i could distract u

Steve.hrrgtn: 🤨🫴name pls

Batking: its Eddie

~~~

This one’s for you queen @beckkthewreck

Would yall want an extended fic on ao3 ? Im considering if i want to keep posting parts here or if i should do both. Would that be good for yall?

Off the Court On the Stage

A Steddie Valentine’s exchange gift for Robin @ghosttotheparty 💕

Rated E • read on ao3 • no UD, modern au strangers to lovers, basketball player Steve & rockstar Eddie

“Look up for me?” Steve looked up, following the medic’s finger. “Do you remember what you ate for breakfast?”

Looking back down, he half nodded. “Uhhh… a burrito, two bowls of cereal, an orange and a protein shake?

The medic’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Okay. Well, you don’t seem to have a concussion. Take this paper back to the locker room.”

They both stood, Steve a bit unsteadily but he’d felt worse after a hard workout. It was probably nothing.

He got to the door and peered down the grey hallway where both ways looked identical. Someone had walked him here, he hadn’t paid any attention and he didn’t know where the locker room was.

“Um, how do I…?”

The medic was already typing fast into his computer and barely looked up.

“Go left, two hallways down make a right, fourth door on the right,” he rattled off. Steve blinked and took a few steps into the hall. “Your other left.”

Steve huffed and turned, trying to remember his instructions. After he’d turned down another very similar hallway, he knew he was lost.

“Make a right, he said... then fourth door…” he mumbled to himself. He wished there had been anyone to ask.

More confidently than he should’ve been, he threw open the door to his right and walked in.

In front of him, a man with long dark hair was naked, pulling his tight leather pants from a leg.

“Oh! Shit, I’m sorry!”

He continued to stand in the doorway, staring. He couldn't make himself move. The man didn’t seem bothered, looking him up and down and smirking at him.

“Well hi there, pretty. Could you close the door? Don’t need anyone else seeing the goods.”

Shocked, he complied and pushed the door shut behind him. “S-sorry, I’m- I think I’m just lost.” He rubbed at his face, shaking his head. This had not been his day.

“Well, I don’t remember ordering a basketball player, but I think you found exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, this looks like the locker room. Sorry, I’ll just get out of your hair,” he averted his eyes when he realized they’d been tracking downward, following the man’s tattoos. He turned back towards the door but the man was suddenly close to him, a hand on his arm.

“Now now, we both know that’s not where you want to go.”

The man snatched the paper out of his hand. Steve had already forgotten about it.

“You got knocked down?” The man peered at him suspiciously, looking him up and down once more.

Steve knew he was big, tall and broad shouldered, and he bristled. “I got fouled, the guy tripped me and I hit my head.” He tried to take the paper back but the man evaded him, moving to the side. Still naked, reading his paper.

He frowned, trying to follow him as he paced quickly as he looked over his paper. The man was about the same height as Steve, and lightly muscled like he got his muscles from something other than hours in a gym.

Eddie looked over at him and raised his eyebrows at his probably confused expression. He scoffed, “No signs of concussion? Who is this guy? You’re gunna come with me and I’ll have our people look you over.”

“Your people?”

“Oh. Hi, I’m Eddie Munson,” he held his hand out to shake Steve’s, and held onto it for a long moment.

“Uh. Steve. Harrington.”

Neither of them had the reaction they expected at their names, apparently. Steve started to look around now at the room to try to gain some knowledge of this person. So far all he knew was the man, Eddie, had a tattoo over his hip and onto his ass. And he wore leather pants.

And had zero issues being naked in front of a stranger.

“My band is next door, they don’t usually want to share a dressing room with me,” he then looked down and grinned. “But since I have a visitor, I guess I should put on some pants.”

Steve opened his mouth to say it was his room and he didn’t mind, but quickly closed it. He didn’t know who this guy was, or who he’d share that information with.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Eddie smirked again. “I saw you checking out the package already. You’re safe with me. I’m gunna take good care of you.”

Steve laughed, but something in his chest unclenched, a warmth rolling in his belly. He tried to ignore it.

Eddie had put on a pair of joggers and a tshirt that was mostly holes before escorting him into a different room.

After he was introduced to everyone, Gareth gave him a wide knowing smile as he looked him up and down. “Where’d you find this one, Ed?”

“Oh,” he grinned from his sprawl on the couch next to him. “He found me. Walked right into my room and saw my naked ass.”

Drew snickered from behind his fist.

Jeff choked on his sip of water. “For real? Why can’t you just keep your clothes on, dude?”

Steve tried to keep up with what was clearly an old and ongoing argument, but Eddie handed him a bottle of water and stared at him until he drank it. Then he just settled in.

It was strangely comfortable, even though he had been thrown into this situation. The easy comradery between these guys was just like being with his teammates.

He felt his eyes slipping shut and jerked his head back up when a hand settled on his arm.

“Hey pretty, I don’t think it’s a great idea for you to be sleeping. Let’s go find Argyle and get him to check you out and then we’ll go to the hotel, okay?”

Eddie’s soft voice somehow booked no argument and he found himself nodding, getting to his feet with a tiny bit of Eddie’s help. He still felt strange, off kilter in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Yo Argyle, this is Steve,” he called once they’d reached a more open area, like a big backstage set up from what Steve could figure.

“Hi Steve!” Argyle’s wide smile and friendly eyes made him relax immediately. He’d love to run his hands through his long silky looking hair, it had to be down past his waist. Argyle did the same look over that Gareth had, and turned his knowing look back at Eddie. “Snatched him up after the game, huh? Typical.”

Eddie huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know, he actually stumbled upon me! You guys don’t have to throw this in my face every time, you know. But hey! Steve needs your help!”

“My help?” Argyle looked him over again, more scrutinizing this time. “With?”

“He got ‘cleared’ by their medical for a concussion but I’d like to make sure. He seems disoriented, and he almost just fell asleep. So,” Eddie waved his hand between them like he was doing a magic trick and Steve laughed.

Argyle smirked, looking between them. “So you wanna know if it’s safe for, like, any extracurricular activities tonight.”

“Uhh, well, I-“ Steve stammered, looking between the two of them. Eddie simply grinned at him as he felt his ears and cheeks flush.

“Come sit, Steve,” Argyle sighed.

He flicked a pen light over his eyes and asked about his head and past injuries, Steve answering to the best of his knowledge. It was hard to concentrate, especially with Eddie hovering over them and the promise in his eyes.

“If anything, a very low grade concussion. But it could be just dehydration and fatigue from the game and getting a bump to the head.” Argyle looked over his paper and handed it back to him. Then he turned to smirk at Eddie. “You gunna look after him tonight?”

“Sure am,” he grinned back.

Argyle snorted. “Well you have my number, if he starts feeling worse- nauseous, his pupils look weird or he gets a bad headache- just call me. Nothing too strenuous, Ed,” he pointed a finger at him.

Eddie held his hands up in front of him, putting on an innocent face. “Of course not!” But he winked at Steve when Argyle turned his back.

Steve felt drawn to him, in a strange way that he’d never felt before. He’d messed around with guys before, of course, but this felt different. He already felt like he’d known Eddie for years.

“Oh! Hey Argyle, can you find someone to tell that I’m stealing Harrington? He never made it back to Basketball Land after his checkup.” Eddie held his hand out for Steve and he took it, allowing the surprisingly strong arm to pull him to his feet. With his shoes on now, they stood eye to eye and Steve felt that warmth in his belly again.

Steve let himself really look at him now, noticing the big dark brown eyes and his long eyelashes, the defined Cupid’s bow above his plush lips. Eddie was stunning. He let his gaze get trapped in the dark curls that dropped down his chest.

“Okay space cadet, you’re coming with me,” Eddie huffed.

It wasn’t until he got in the car with Eddie that he realized he didn’t have any of his stuff. His clothes, his phone, nothing.

“Ed- um, this is very nice of you, but I need my stuff from the locker room.” Steve fidgeted with his hands, awkward somehow now that he was being taken back to Eddie’s hotel room. He wasn’t used to not calling the shots.

“It’s being sent over, honey. I got it all taken care of. Just relax. Usually I’m at the venue a lot longer than this, miss all the traffic. It might take us a while to get moving.”

Eddie slid his arm over Steve’s shoulders and he found himself leaning in, letting his eyes close.

“Stevie, we’re here.”

Opening his eyes at the voice, he quickly let them fall closed again and couldn’t hold back the smile at Eddie running his hand through his hair. His dried sweat hair.

“Ugh, good. I desperately need a shower,” he groaned.

Eddie chuckled, unfortunately his hands leaving him to open the car door. “That sounds like a great plan.” He winked at him as he helped him out of the car.

They took a small elevator up from the deserted lobby, Steve not paying attention to the buttons until the door opened. Directly into a large penthouse suite.

“Wha- Holy shit. This-“ He cleared his throat and shook his head. “This is all yours?”

“Yeah,” Eddie grinned. He typed something quickly into his phone and tossed it down onto a front table. “What, they don’t put you guys up in fancy places?”

“No, I was rooming with fucking Aaron ‘The Mouthbreather,’” he shook his head again, rushing over to the floor to ceiling windows looking over the city. He turned back towards Eddie. “Okay, wait. Who are you?”

Eddie looked sheepish for the first time all evening, and it settled something in him. At least the guy was human.

“I sort of liked it better when you didn’t know. But you’ll find out soon enough. You, uh, ever hear of Corroded Coffin?”

Frowning, he tried to place where he had heard that name before. “Maybe?”

“So, Gareth, Drew, Jeff and I… we’re Corroded Coffin. We hit it big last year, been sailing on some radio hits recently. Our big tour starts tomorrow, we were doing some set up and finalizing everything today.”

“Wow,” he breathed, looking around at the huge space.

“The record company had to really sell us on it, to be honest. We’re pretty much small town boys at heart… so I think this is overkill, but it is fun.” Eddie looked around with him for a moment, a goofy smile on his face.

He had a million more questions.

The door opened behind Eddie and a man stepped out with a bag. Steve’s duffle bag. He started walking over to take it but the man handed it to Eddie, quickly receiving some bills from him.

“Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Munson?” He asked politely.

“I don’t think so, thank you. Have a good night.”

“Thank you sir, you as well.”

Eddie grinned. “I plan on it.”

The man actually bowed before turning and getting back into the elevator.

“This is nuts,” Steve whispered. He’d only seen things like that in movies.

Eddie turned back to him, handing him his bag. “Everything accounted for?”

“Oh. Um.” He unzipped his duffle and located his phone and charger, hairspray, protein bars and clothes that had been in his locker. “Yeah. I didn’t have much. Mostly needed my phone.”

He unlocked his phone and quickly sent a text:

Rob, not going to be able to call tonight. Everything’s fine, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you

“Boyfriend?”

Steve turned to see that of course Eddie had read the text over his shoulder. He huffed a laugh. “No, girl best friend, actually. She’d be blowing me up if I didn’t check in.”

Eddie gave him a small smile, “That’s cute. Really none of my business, sorry. I just don’t need any entanglements showing up here to shoot me or anything.” He shrugged but Steve could tell he was more pleased than he was letting on.

“All good, no entanglements who would care if I, uh, entangled with anyone else,” he chuckled.

“Good,” Eddie laughed. “Well, for me at least.”

Steve was hit with the deep and sudden need to kiss him, and he felt himself leaning into him, but then the elevator opened again.

A different guy in a uniform wheeled in a low cart with bottles of water and plates covered in cloches. Steve raised an eyebrow at Eddie.

“Ordered us some stuff,” he shrugged. Again he handed some folded up bills to the man and exchanged pleasantries and Steve was well on his way to falling for him. Pay attention to how a man treats his inferiors or something. Steve was the same way, getting to know their bus drivers and the most lowly handlers they interacted with.

“Food or shower first? Then we can trade off.”

“Oh.” His stomach dropped. “I thought-“ he shook his head. Nothing to get upset about. It would be weird to want to shower with someone you literally just met. “Never mind.”

“Don’t do that.” Eddie came closer, catching his eye. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Holding the eye contact, taking in Eddie’s accepting face, he shook his head again. It was fine. “It’s nothing. Just- I thought… maybe you wanted to shower with me.” He mumbled the last part and looked away, feeling like a teenager again.

Eddie moved closer still, stopping with a few inches between them. He cupped his jaw and tilted his head up to look into his eyes. “Is that what you want? Me to shower with you? We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” Eddie stared deeply into his eyes, probably trying to decide if Steve was taking this in. “I’m not that guy. I’m thrilled with whatever you want to do. Okay Stevie?”

He nodded and couldn’t hold back the small smile. He could tell Eddie meant it, and his genuine affection was winning him over quickly. “Okay, Eds.”

They could still blame his little stumble as he got into the shower on the light head injury, but he saw the smirk on Eddie’s face when he caught him with a hand around his waist.

“If you wanted me to touch you, pretty boy, you could’ve just asked. Don’t have to go all damsel in distress on me.”

“Already saved me, didn’t you?” Steve teased back. At Eddie’s cocked eyebrow, he continued. “Would’ve been wandering around grey hallways all night.”

“Hmmm,” Eddie hummed, nodding. “True, someone else could’ve gotten their claws into the little lost basketball player.” He brought his free hand to trace his fingers through Steve’s wet chest hair. “Good thing I scooped him up instead,” he said, low and rumbly.

His voice was doing things to him, and the way he was touching him was going straight to his dick. All the attitude he had evaporated and he was suddenly desperate.

Leaning in, trying to catch Eddie’s eye to get him on the same page, he almost whined when instead Eddie pulled back and reached for soap on the shelf.

“Oh no,” Eddie cooed. “What’s that face for? You look like someone stole your toy, baby.” He chuckled and Steve huffed a small laugh, immensely happy when he came back into his personal space again. “Hi there. Are you always this needy or is it just for me?”

Steve actually whined this time, unsure if he’d ever made such an embarrassing noise in his life. “Fuck, I think it’s just you.” He was already uncomfortably hard, his cock straining upwards between them.

“Uh uh, say it properly.” Eddie’s eyes darkened and Steve thought his knees were going to give out.

He floundered, trying to figure out what that meant. “Wha- I-“ he shook his head but couldn't take his eyes off of Eddie in front of him.

“Say you’re so needy for me,” Eddie directed. His tone and low voice zinged down his spine and his dick twitched between them. Unable to place this feeling, he chose not to question it and just followed directions.

“Holy shit,” he hissed. Then, catching Eddie’s eye, he went for broke. “I’m so needy for you, Eds. Please.”

Eddie made a low satisfied sound in his throat that made the warmth in his belly expand. He’d never felt this turned on before in his life. And they weren’t even doing anything.

“Please what, baby?” Eddie moved closer to him, a sly smile creeping across his face. “Wash your hair?” He reached up and pushed his wet hair back from his forehead. His eyes settled on his lips. “Kiss you?” Steve opened his mouth to agree, but Eddie’s gaze traveled lower. “Play with your pretty cock?”

“Yes,” Steve sighed, not sure which one he was asking for but it didn’t matter as lips crashed into his and he was pulled into Eddie’s arms.

Steve groaned and his bottom lip was sucked into Eddie’s mouth, receiving a quick bite and a soothing swipe of his tongue. If Steve hadn’t been desperately clinging to him he might have hit the floor.

Eddie pushed him against the wall of the shower, maybe knowing he was done for, or knowing he needed the stability. Calloused hands traced down his sides before wrapping around his hard length.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” Eddie purred at him after breaking their kiss.

Steve complied and gasped at the image in front of him, Eddie’s wet hair even darker and slicked back, sticking to his shoulders. Eddie’s eyes were deep and dark, his mouth reddened and opened slightly.

“Good boy. You doin’ okay? I don’t want to get in trouble with Argyle.” He smirked at him, somehow managing to look devious yet completely innocent as he slowly fisted his cock between them.

Steve nodded and when he didn’t get a response other than a pointed look, he thought hard about answering his question. He felt okay, other than desperately needing to come and very out of his league when it came to Eddie. But he didn’t feel any of the symptoms Argyle had told them to look out for. “I’m okay. Please don’t stop. C-can I touch you?” He ducked his head down but then was staring at Eddie’s complex tattoos and his neglected hard cock.

“Of course, gorgeous. C’mere.” Eddie arranged their limbs for him, thankfully, getting them aligned so they each had a hand on each other, before crashing their lips back together and sliding his free hand around the back of Steve’s head. He got a fistful of hair and used it to keep him right where he wanted him.

Steve tried to focus on getting Eddie off, but his body felt like it was trying to shatter apart from the slippery hand wrapped around his own dick and Eddie taking him apart with his mouth.

His hips rocked forward and their lengths slid together causing them both to groan into the kiss.

“So fuckin’ hot, Stevie,” Eddie panted into his ear before sucking and biting down his neck.

He couldn’t be sure who moved first, but their hips shifted allowing their hands to come together encircling both of their cocks. They chased their release, both shoving into their combined fingers.

Steve got a handful of curly hair and pulled their mouths back together, quickly allowing Eddie to take over the ravenous kiss.

He pulled back quickly as he realized he was- “Gunna come, ah ah!“

Eddie stared at him, tilting their foreheads together as both of their hips stuttered and they came between their bodies.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie breathed, working their lengths through their aftershocks and looking down to see the combined mess. “So glad we did this in the shower,” he snickered.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve laughed, ducking his head as he could feel the blush rise on his cheeks.

“Now he’s gunna try to be shy, huh? After he seduced me into the shower and mnph-“ Steve captured his lips again and they smiled against each other.

Somehow they managed to get washed up, dried off and tumbled into bed.

Steve was warm and comfortable, but something was nudging his subconscious awake while he tried to sink back into sleep.

Becoming slowly more aware of his immediate surroundings, the soft sheets and someone cuddling behind him, he still wasn’t sure what it was. Then something hard pushed between his cheeks and across his entrance.

He must have startled or tensed up because they quickly moved away, mumbling, “Sorry.”

Finally memories of the whirlwind of the previous day floated across his mind, and Steve pulled him closer, arching his back. “No. Please, Eds. Need you.”

He felt the groan behind him and their hips both stuttered.

“God, Stevie,” he panted into his shoulder. A hand came up to ghost across his nipple, rubbing more firmly at his gasp.

They moved together for a few moments, precome allowing Eddie to glide between his cheeks but it wasn’t enough for him.

Steve finally pushed back hard, gasping, “Fuck me, Eddie. I need it. Need more.”

The hand on his chest cupped his pec roughly before coming up to his mouth. He opened automatically and sucked two fingers into his mouth, reveling in the moan it caused behind him.

“Get those wet for me, honey.” Eddie’s rough morning voice made him moan as he licked across the calloused fingers.

Eddie pulled his fingers out and he missed them for a moment before his leg was moved, widening for-

“Oh fuck,” he breathed as the wet fingers rubbed over his entrance.

The small amount of spit wasn’t going to be enough but Steve rocked back into the fingers and hoped Eddie had lube close by. Or that he’d just push himself inside of him. He groaned and a shiver went through him.

“I know, baby. Wait one second, okay?”

Eddie’s warmth disappeared from behind him and he swore under his breath from across the room.

He heard him come closer to the bed and the familiar plastic crinkle of a condom wrapper as he moved around behind him. Without any further preamble he felt a cold slippery finger slide into him and he gasped, but rocked back into it immediately.

“Please,” he panted. Eddie shushed him and pushed another finger in, scissoring them around slowly. Adding more lube and another finger, Steve finally cried out as he rubbed across his prostate.

Eddie lined himself up behind him and rubbed the head of his cock across his hole a few times to tease him before slowly, slowly pushing in. He set a languid pace, tracing patterns on Steve’s hips and up his chest, holding him close.

He had never felt this close to someone before, his previous hookups usually meaningless and hurried. This felt like they were becoming one person, pressed close and breathing the same air. Moving together without the delirious necessity of release, just wanting to feel.

A hot mouth found his neck and he couldn’t hold back the whimper that left him.

“So sweet for me,” Eddie purred, lips never leaving his skin. Kissing down his shoulder, he twisted his hips causing his dick to drag across Steve’s prostate. He hummed into his skin and picked the pace up only slightly as Steve panted.

Unable to hold back anymore, he wrapped a hand around his own dripping cock and Eddie added his hand too, intentionally slowing down his movements.

“Eds, oh, so good. Oh my god,” he rambled, too gone to coherently express all the feelings swirling in his chest.

“Gunna come, gorgeous. Come with me.”

Steve rocked back against the thrusts, gasping as the hot mouth returned to his neck and hands tightened around his length. He was so close.

“Ah, holy shit, ah-“ he bit into his lip as he came hard over their fingers and felt Eddie’s hips stutter against him.

He felt like he’d melted into a puddle. They stayed stuck together, their breaths slowing in time. He whined as Eddie pulled out of him and got out of bed, but he couldn’t move. A wet cloth was wiped over him and he hummed an appreciative sound.

Eddie got back in behind him and snuggled into his neck, yanked the blanket over them before wrapping his arms around him. Right before he sunk into unconsciousness a hand laced their fingers together over his chest.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Eddie kissed his forehead and he smiled. “Well, afternoon, but we gotta get to the arena.”

“That’s a new one,” Steve mused.

“New what?”

“Nickname. Sunshine.”

“Yeah? It suits you.” Kissed down his jaw to his neck. “Could light up a room without even trying.” He scraped his teeth across his collarbone and Steve yelped. “Hmmm or puppy, since you’re so eager and always making these cute little noises.”

Steve should be offended but he felt the blood color his cheeks.

Eddie sat back with a grin. “You like that one, huh? C’mon then sleeping beauty, let’s get some food in you and we’ll get out of here.”

Steve whined and pulled him down for a long kiss first, soaking in this undivided attention for as long as he could. It was so honest and endearing, and somehow the names made him feel like this could be more than just a hookup. He’d never been the one taken care of or doted on before. He took care of everyone. It was a new feeling that he already felt himself getting used to.

He let the warm feeling wash over him as they quietly ate everything on last night’s snack cart and today’s brunch tray. He could really get used to this treatment.

“Eds, I don’t really have anything to wear for a concert,” he called out from the bedroom, looking down at his meager pile of clean clothes.

“There’s not really a dress code, babe,” he heard Eddie laugh from the next room. “Just put something on and we’ll find something for you.”

It wasn’t until he was dressed and shoving his dirty clothes from the night before into his duffle that he found his phone and groaned. It was dead and they needed to leave.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, you can charge it when we get there. The car is already downstairs.”

Steve simply nodded but internally knew he was in big trouble. He hadn’t checked in with anyone in more than twenty four hours and they wouldn’t have even been able to see his location on the app if his phone was dead. Sighing, he grabbed all his stuff and went down the elevator with Eddie.

Once they got back to the arena and Eddie dropped him off in the same room they’d met, he plugged his phone in and sat on the floor by the outlet watching the little red battery blink at him until it powered on.

He watched as all the missed calls and texts from Robin, Dustin and Max rolled in. Instead of reading anything he just dialed Robin. She picked up on the second ring.

“What the fuck, dingus? You better have a really good reason for falling off the face of the earth. And why was your location off?”

He groaned. “I’m sorry, Robs. My phone died.”

“What happened? You’ve never let your phone die after a game before. Dustin said you got fouled last night and never came back out from the locker room.”

He winced and rubbed his hand over his face. “Well, I never made it to the locker room, actually.”

“What does that mean?” He could imagine the speculative face he was sure she was making.

“Listen, this is weird and I need you to not freak out because it’s turned out to be the best thing ever. So. Give me forty five seconds before you start yelling, deal?”

“Maybe.”

He sighed. “That douchebag fouled me and I hit my head. They brought me to medical where they told me I didn’t have a concussion but I was still kind of out of it. The idiot medic didn’t want to bring me back to the locker room I guess, so I got lost. And I ran into,” he chuckled. Then stopped when Robin huffed at him. “Sorry. I ended up meeting someone, and I spent the night with him. But he’s amazing, Robs…” He wasn’t sure what else he could say, or how much time he had left before she was released. “He’s, um, in a band, we were all in the same place because they’re playing tonight.

There was a long pause before- “Steven Bartholomew Harrington!” He winced again and pulled the phone away from his ear. “You had us all going crazy worried about you and you were getting laid by a dickhead in a band?”

“I know. I’m sorry. He’s not a dickhead though. He saw that I was disoriented and he got me checked out by his own staff and then… took care of me last night.”

“Oh I’m sure he did,” she grumbled.

“Stop, Robin,” he huffed. “I really like him and even though it definitely started as a quick hookup I feel like it could be more. Like he’s amazing. I promise.”

“Uh huh. Let me speak to him.”

“No, Robs-“

“Yes, Steve. Or I’m sending in Max. This asshole had you forgetting you had a phone for twenty four hours? What kind of platonic soulmate would I be if I didn’t look out for you?”

“He’s not here, Robin, he’s doing-“ he didn’t actually know what he was doing.

“That’s fine. You have three minutes.”

Steve scrambled to his feet and the phone fell to the ground when he tried to walk with it still attached to the charger.

“Sorry. Dropped you. I’m going, I’m going.”

Rounding a corner in the direction he sort of remembered going the night before, he followed the sounds of echoing voices until he found the doorway to the open backstage area.

He saw Gareth first and headed to him at a jog. “Hey-“

“Hey basketball, how’s it going?” Gareth grinned at him.

“I’m okay, but I need to find Eddie, quickly.”

Steve watched as he cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled, “EDDIE! EDDIIIIEEEEEEE YOUR BOY TOY NEEDS YOU!”

Steve blinked at him and he continued grinning back.

“Stevie? You okay?” Eddie popped out of nowhere from across the room, heading over quickly. Gareth walked away like this was completely ordinary.

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I, um, this is really weird but I need you to talk to my friend Robin? Just real quick. She’s, uh, not happy that I let my phone die and didn’t check in with anyone today… Please?” He held the phone up between them.

“Sure, honey.” Eddie frowned at him, taking the phone from his hand. “Hello? Hiya Robin, my name is Eddie Munson.” His eyebrows went up and Steve winced. He mouthed I’m so sorry at him and Eddie stared at him with an unreadable look. “Okay, hear you loud and clear, Robin. Hope to see you in person eventually. Uh huh, have a good one.” He handed the phone back to Steve with a blank expression before grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room.

“Wha-“ Steve got out before he was shoved against the wall in the hallway and kissed within an inch of his life. He sank into it and kissed back after a few seconds. Maybe Robin hadn’t ruined this for him after all.

Eddie broke the kiss and hummed at him, looking at him from under his eyelashes. “So, anything you wanna tell me, sweetheart?”

“Uh. That my platonic soulmate doesn’t know the word boundaries?”

Eddie laughed, but shook his head. “Well who really does, but no, that’s not what I’m talking about. She had to tell me if I hurt you they would hunt me down and hit me over the head with a shovel and no one would ever find my body.”

“I’m sor-“

“No, baby. She said because you ‘really like me’ she needed me to know that you had people looking out for you.” Eddie kissed him again quickly. “I really like you too.”

Steve stared at him a bit dumbfounded for a moment. “Th-that’s what you took from that?”

“Well yeah, your friend is terrifying, sweets, but that doesn’t really bother me because I don’t plan on hurting you. I think it’s great that you’ve found people who would threaten my life. It’s somehow endearing,” he chuckled.

“Well do I have some stories for you, then,” Steve laughed.

“Sure puppy,” he grinned at him when color flooded his cheeks. “C’mon, I could use your help, actually.” He squeezed his bicep and Steve groaned good naturedly. He was feeling much better today and could definitely carry heavy things for them.

Hours later, Steve was feeling pleasantly sore and almost giddy after soaking in all the casual touches and lingering looks from Eddie.

Now after they’d cleaned up, only getting distracted a few times in long kisses, Eddie pulled a faded shirt out of somewhere and threw it at him with a leer.

Steve figured it’d be tight, but he held eye contact with him as he pulled it down his broad chest.

“Fuck, baby. Should’ve had you in my clothes all day.” He reached forward to pull the hem straight. “Maybe not though, we wouldn’t’ve left this room.” His eyes didn’t leave his chest.

There was a loud knock on the door and Eddie sighed. “Come in!”

Jeff opened the door a crack to peek through before finally walking in and Steve laughed.

Jeff shook his head with a grimace. “Apparently sometimes he ‘forgets’ he’s naked and still says come in,” he grumbled. “Not all of us want to see your dick, you know. Anyways! We’re all set up and they need everyone to start sound checks.”

Jeff quickly left the room and Eddie pulled him into a hungry kiss. Steve gasped as a tongue swiped over his lip before teasing across his own. He clenched his hands in Eddie’s shirt but he broke the kiss before he could do anything else.

“Stay here, sunshine. One of the venue guys will come bring you to your spot, okay? Then I’ll meet you back here after.” Steve grinned and nodded and he got a forehead kiss before another quick peck on his lips.

Steve hung out in the dressing room until someone with an earpiece came to get him. But instead of being escorted down where he assumed he’d be, they went up an elevator and shown into a private box, where a lower part had a few rows of auditorium seats.

He turned to the man to ask if he was sure this was right, but he was already gone. There was a sheet of paper in the slot in the door that read ‘Guest of E.M.’ He took a selfie with it and sent it to Robin.

An opening band started a few minutes later and he clapped and cheered in support. He hadn’t really been to many concerts and never in a private box. He entertained himself by poking around the snacks and mini bar, deciding to help himself to a beer.

When the band onstage said their thanks and left the stage, he went down into the seats to wait for Corroded Coffin. He was inexplicably nervous but excited. He munched on some pretzels and a candy bar to keep his hands busy.

Then the lights came back up and he gasped loudly as he caught sight of Eddie bouncing on his toes at the front of the stage, in ripped jeans and a tight mesh shirt, hair wild and huge grin on his face. He was looking directly up at him in his box and sent him a theatric wink when he caught his eye. Steve grinned and waved.

Their music was different than he expected somehow, heavier metal and pounding bass, but it worked so well for them and their energy and the energy from the crowd was infectious. He found himself standing at the edge of his row of seats, jumping and bouncing around. Eddie would often come towards his side of the stage to blow a kiss or just stare up at him as he sang and he felt his heart and his pants tighten. He whooped and laughed and jumped up and down as Eddie thrashed around on stage. He was blown away by the band and the music, even if he hadn’t known Eddie and the guys beforehand.

When he realized the band was wrapping up their set he was momentarily disappointed but then remembered he got to go see Eddie. He groaned and tried to reposition his throbbing dick in his pants.

After making his way back down to Eddie’s dressing room after their encore, he paced around before throwing himself onto the couch. He really hoped Eddie didn’t want to wait to do anything until they were back at the hotel.

The door finally opened and Eddie rushed through it, making eye contact as he pushed it closed behind him and turned the lock.

He went to stand but Eddie shook his head and came over to straddle his lap. Steve rubbed his hands up and down his thighs and stared up at him.

“Hi puppy,” he teased, tracing his fingers down his cheeks and to his neck as he felt them redden. “Got me alI worked up watching me play, Stevie.” He kissed across his jaw and down to his shirt collar. Eddie’s shirt collar. “Watching you jump around in my Metallica shirt was something else.”

He captured his mouth in a filthy kiss and Steve could only hold on for dear life. Eddie pulled away with a nip to his lip and a dark look.

“You were so hot, Eds. It was-“ he shook his head, unable to find words to describe it.

Humming at him as he pushed himself down onto his lap to make him whine, Eddie leered at him. “Can I ride your pretty cock, baby?”

Steve nodded dumbly, mouth hanging open, and could only watch as Eddie went to rifle through his backpack across the room.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled as Eddie came back towards him with a couple small packets of lube and a condom. How had he gotten this lucky?

“Gunna be so good for me, aren’t you sunshine?” He pulled his shirt off and wiggled his pants down as he stood in front of him, hard dick already dripping. Steve automatically pulled his own shirt off and awkwardly unbuttoned his jeans to push them off his hips. They giggled at each other when they had to stop and help each other out of their shoes to get their pants off.

Eddie positioned himself back over his lap, staying up on his knees this time as he ripped open a packet of lube and reached behind himself. They both groaned as Steve watched his face, his hands coming up to grab at a hip and wrap around his hard length.

“Oh fuck, honey. You can’t do that or I’m gunna come too quick. Need to come with your cock inside me.”

Steve whined, nodding again and instead reached beside him to squirt some lube on his hand.

“Let me feel you, Eds,” he breathed and at Eddie’s groan he rubbed his fingers across his entrance, pushing the tip of his finger against the rim.

“God your hands are huge,” Eddie hissed. He rocked back into his finger as it slid further in, Steve watching his face with rapt attention as he squeezed his eyes shut and panted. “Another one. I’m not going to last much longer.”

Steve quickly added a second finger and scissored them around, grinning as he pinpointed his prostate and Eddie cried out beautifully. Eddie pushed his hand away and continued on his own, Steve taking the time to slide the condom down his leaking dick.

“Fuck, gorgeous. Can’t wait to bounce on this cock of yours. Oh, holy fuck-“ Eddie panted and finally arranged himself closer, reaching beneath him to line Steve up to his hole.

They panted against each other as Eddie sunk down his length. Their mouths crashed together and Eddie fucked their tongues against each other as he bottomed out.

“Oh my god,” Steve breathed, not pulling his mouth away. “Please move. I’m dying, babe. God you’re perfect. Please.” He had Eddie’s hips in a death grip and finally helped him raise up and down slowly.

“Jesus Christ.” He watched with a deep satisfaction as Eddie’s eyes rolled back and he planted his feet on the floor to thrust up into him. “Ah! Yes, fuck me, just like that princess.”

The name caught him off guard but made his dick twitch and he cried out, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah you like that one, huh? I know. Such a spoiled princess already. Gunna make me come so hard on your cock, oh fuck.” His hands slid into the back of his Steve’s hair as he held on for dear life, their thrusts becoming wild as they chased their climaxes.

Eddie clenched around him and came untouched between them, Steve crying out as his hips stuttered up as he came.

“God damn,” he breathed, dropping his face into Eddie’s neck as they came down. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart,” he groaned.

The next morning, he blearily clicked on a link Robin texted him. The headline of a news site read, ‘Hot New It Couple? Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson seen leaving concert with Steve Harrington of the Indiana Pacers.’ He showed the little picture of their heads huddled together to Eddie and they shrugged and snuggled back under the covers.

I love the “Steve has good parents, they’re just not on camera.”

Mom edition

Dustin is crawling in through the window. He freezes halfway through the window when he makes eye contact with Steve’s mom.

“Sweetie who is this small curly haired child breaking into our house?”

“That’s Dustin.”

“Okay?”

“I’ve adopted him as my brother.”

“Hello new son?”

…

Steve’s mom comes home to find Joyce on her couch, Steve talking very excitedly to her.

“What’s Joyce doing here?”

“Hey mom, meet mom.”

“Two moms and you still can’t avoid getting concussed every year?”

“Neither of you are very good at your job.”

…

“Mom!” Steve’s mom turns at the voice and finds a small redhead looking at Steve.

“Yes Max?”

“Can you take me to the arcade?”

Steve groans, pulling out some of the allowance that his mom had just given him and handed it to the little girl.

“Lucas too?”

“Yes, now scram.”

“Mom?” Steve’s mom asks.

“I’m not sure how that happened either.”

…

Eddie shows up on their doorstep with a bunch of half burnt cookies.

“I’m here for Steve.” He says simply to the bewildered mother staring at him.

“Okay.” She turns back towards the inside of the house. “Steve your boyfriend is here.”

“Did Steve tell you?”

“No, but god does my boy have a type.”

Teen Dad AU

Part 7!! (??)

I’m losing track.

More Steddie interactions (kinda?)! Plus Steve and Louie and the kids :))

I’m so excited for this one aaahhhhh!!!!!

I’m starting this on my 15th bday lmaoooo

(Update it is now 2 months after my bday, HAPPY pride month everyone!!)

Tag list:

@cam-cat-writer @jackiemonroe5512 @finntheehumaneater @irregular-child @grimmfitzz @fantrash @bookworm0690 @fiddledeedee85 @hunterbow04 @strangeforest @just-a-tiny-void @jaimeweasley13 @thelittleclare @rebellatio-03 @sirsnacksalot @geekyfifi @sapphireoceansoc @salty-h0e @dragonmama76 @mentallyundone-blog @lingeringmirth @moomkin77 @netflixisacopingstrategymom @jaytriesstuff @goodolefashionedloverboi @hellfirebaby-86 @blu3stars @blackpanzy @strawberryyyenthusiast @lololol-1234 @thestarslittleking @silenzioperso @forest-fogg @bebopbabyy @lawrencebshaggoth @stevesbipanic @dauntlessdiva @live0rdive @y4r3luv @jonesn4coffee @sofadofax @sensationalsunburst @scarlet-malfoy @l393ndjean @asspirin-s @fandomz-brainrot @mugloversonly @virginlemontea @littlebluejane @paintsplatteredandimperfect @astrid-nomically-steddie @maferisa-7 @phantomrose17 @thoughtfulbreadpolice @fandomnerd103 @atemisiscursed @croatoan-like-its-hot @myownworstenemyyy

.

Steve didn’t want to leave the kitchen.

“Get the hell out there, Harrington!” George scolded him. “It’s a bunch of middle schoolers!”

Yeah, Steve refused to serve a table of middle schoolers. Because they weren’t /just/ middle schoolers.

They were his middle schoolers.

Accompanied by Miss. Byers and Jonathan.

Steve internally groaned. He had been completely avoiding and refusing to tell any of them where he worked and had sworn Hopper to secrecy. Dramatic? Sure. But valid? Absolutely.

Those kids were menaces. Even Will in his own way, giving Steve one of those sweet smiles of his to get him to give them rides almost whenever. Ugh.

The point is; Steve didn’t want to the Brat Bridge to know where he worked. Because then they’d come just about everyday to harass him.

But a teasing comment about “Scaredy Steve” from Mason had Steve punching Mason in the arm and marching out into the actual diner.

Gwen walked past him into the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes. She clapped him on the shoulder with a sly smile. “Good luck, they’re a loud bunch.”

Steve sighed. “Trust me, I know.”

Five kids, one teen, and one adult. Steve would be fine. It’d be totally fine. He sees these people like every goddamn day—

“Steve!”

He’s been spotted.

Steve gave a strained smile to Dustin, who was actually bouncing in his chair between Mike and Max, who were both looking at him like a freaky big they’d never seen before.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas chirped, across from Dustin, grinning ear to ear. Will sat quietly next to him but smiled at Steve when they made eye contact.

Steve crossed his arms and popped his hip, a small grin of his own plastering his face. “I work here, Sinclair. Now what does the Brat Pack want?”

A chorus of shouts of different menu items flew at Steve all at once. He chuckled quietly, and then groaned louder— just to be a dramatic shit.

“One at a time! You learned how to take turns in kindergarten, didn’t you? Or are you guys still there?”

Dustin and Mike immediately protested, Max making a dig at Steve’s “elementary school IQ”. While the three of them argued with a not-listening Steve, Steve turned his attention to Will and Lucas.

Orders were placed quickly after. Steve turning to Jonathan and Joyce after the kids.

When he gave the paper to Mason the raised eyebrow he got back held thousands of questions. Questions Steve ignored with a smirk and wave of his hand.

.

His shift that day was rowdy and filled with teasing and laughter. Not much different than usual but it was warmer. More comforting. The kids didn’t leave with Miss. Byers, opting to stay behind with Jonathan and wait until Steve’s shift ended.

Allya and George waved Steve off about closing, insisting they’d get to it themselves.

So, Steve and Jonathan split the brats up between their cars; Lucas, Mike and Dustin with Steve, Max and Will with Jonathan.

“Steve can we go to your house? Please?” Dustin begged, hanging off of Steve’s arm while they all walked to the cars. Steve pretended to think about it, already knowing full well that he’d give in and let them storm his trailer.

He sighed dramatically, just for shits and giggles, before agreeing. Because he’s a giant push over.

Steve and Jonathan split the kids up and Jonathan followed Steve all the way to trailer park.

“Hang on—“ Dustin slapped Steve’s arm from his seat in the passengers side. “Don’t you live in Loch Nora?”

Steve huffed, his irritation flaring at the reminder. He quickly tramped it down, refusing to be angry at Dustin for being curious.

“Used to. Moved out once I got Louie.” He explained, barely even a lie.

Mike and Lucas shared a glance in the back seat. Steve narrowed his eyes at them before quickly returning his gaze to the road. He’d have a talk to them later about trying to play detective.

Jonathan and Steve pulled in side by side in the driveway. The kids got out one by one, rushing to the porch and waiting impatiently for Steve to open it for them.

Steve smiled a small smile at the antics, before catching Jonathan staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

Steve turned to him with a confused raise of his eyebrows. Jonathan raised his own eyebrows and looked pointedly to the trailer before back at Steve.

So it wasn’t Lucas and Mike playing detective, it was Jonathan.

Steve rolled and eyes and made a very pointed and obvious “later” look before pushing through the kids and unlocking the door.

The kids discarded their shoes haphazardly and spread out in the living room, looking at everything.

“I’ll be right back. Break anything and I’ll break your asses.”

Max and Mike rolled their eyes, disappearing with Will down the hall to no doubt look around more. Dustin and Lucas stayed in the living room.

“Where are you going? And where’s Louie?” Lucas asked suspiciously.

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Wow ok. More interested in my kid than me, Sinclair?” Lucas spluttered a reply, but Steve waved him off with a chuckle. “I’m kidding, doofus. Louie’s up at Gran— er, Margaret’s, because I had work.”

Lucas deemed this an ok answer and let Steve go.

He knocked on Gran’a door three times before she opened, Louie on her hip and the twins right behind her. Noah and Casey immediately ran out the door to hug Steve on the small porch, each hanging off of a different leg as Steve reached out to take Louie from Gran.

“Heya, baby!” Steve greeted the now teething infant. Teething, as Louie immediately stuck Steve’s shirt collar in his mouth to chew on.

Steve smiled at Gran, letting her know the brats were over but that they could still have dinner together that night if she was ok with an extra five kids (and Jonathan).

Grab waved him off. “The more the merrier, dear.”

Noah and Casey followed Steve home, Gran having to go run some errands and taking advantage of Steve finally being home. Steve didn’t mind.

He’d just made it to the bottom of his porch when something caught his eye across the street; leaving his own trailer was Eddie Munson, his hair thrown half-up-half-down and his shirt and jeans ripped to basically scraps. He was grinning and talking while walking backwards, supposedly to the old man standing in the doorway.

Eddie turned around just in time to make eye contact with Steve, raise an eyebrow, and grin devilishly. He stuck out his tongue, and Steve and Louie both giggled.

Steve broke the tension-filled eye contact to look down at little baby Louie, who was still chewing on his shirt. Louie grinned back at him, his little teeth nubs shiny. When Steve looked back to Eddie, the van was gone and the pretty metalhead was nowhere in sight.

“Steve! Why are you withholding the child?” Max demanded.

Steve snapped back to reality just enough to glare over his shoulder at her.

.

IM SO SORRY FOR THE SLOW ASS UPDATES BUT I CANT PROMISE ILL DO BETTER WITH MY ADHD AND HYPER-FIXATIONS EVERYWHERE 😭😭