Chapter Text
Steve changes his shirt three times before he settles on the first one he’d pulled out. He looks in the mirror. Shakes his head. This is stupid. He takes the shirt off, puts on a plain dark red button-down, leaving the top few buttons undone, and grabs the blazer he bought for his cousin’s wedding last year.
As he’s heading downstairs, his mom is coming in the front door, and she smiles up at him. “You look nice, darling,” she says, “are you going somewhere?” She pauses and adds, “Do you have a date?”
Steve looks down at himself. Is he too dressed up? “No, just… dinner with a friend.” He’d called Eddie earlier, asked if he wanted to hang out after work, palms sweating. Steve said he’d bring Chinese, and Eddie had sounded kind of strange, but he said yes.
“Oh, well, you’re dressed up, so I thought…” She shrugs.
Steve shifts his weight. He is too dressed up. “I’m going to change,” he says and dashes back upstairs.
In his room, he takes off the blazer and shirt, puts on a t-shirt and a sweater in random patterns of earthy tones. He leaves his jeans. They’re fine. He looks in the mirror and makes a face.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter what he wears.
He makes it halfway down the stairs before he goes back for the blazer.
--
The order is ready when Steve gets to the restaurant because he’d called ahead, wanting to get to Eddie’s as soon as possible, but now he wishes he’d waited until he got here. Given himself that little extra time to pull himself together or something. He takes the plastic bag from the counter, handing over some cash, and drags his feet on his way to his car.
Ten years probably wouldn’t be enough time to pull himself together.
--
There’s music playing inside the trailer, so Steve knocks hard. He doesn’t use his key tonight, just knocks and waits. It’s a little cold out, and Steve tugs at his sweater, shifting from foot to foot. Maybe the blazer clashes with the sweater. He considers taking it off and leaving it in the car, but then the music stops, and moments later the door swings open.
Eddie is framed by the warm light from inside, while the outside light above the door haloes his hair. He looks tired but good. Really good. He’s wearing a black button-down, the top few buttons undone, and Steve follows the v of the open collar, swallowing heavily. Eddie looks… Hot. Sexy. There’s a thrill in thinking that, and it runs through Steve from head to toe. He bites his lip. He wonders if Eddie dressed up for him and wishes he’d stuck with his original outfit.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Eddie says. “Wasn’t sure if you were coming.”
Steve frowns, checks his watch. He’s late. “Shit, I—” Couldn’t pick what to wear. “Food,” he says, stupidly, holding up the takeout bag and hoping it passes for an explanation.
It gets the smallest of smiles from Eddie, but it’s gone too quickly.
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah, shit“—Eddie shakes his head and steps aside—”sorry.”
Here we go. Steve steps over the threshold and into the trailer. He waits for Eddie to close the door, and then he turns to him. Does he do this now, or wait until they’ve eaten? “I got extra, so we’d get free egg rolls,” he says. Right. Wait until they’ve eaten then.
“Cool.”
“Are you hungry now, or—”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Okay, I’ll just…” Steve trails off, then takes the food over to the makeshift coffee table. They usually just eat from the containers, so he sits on the couch and takes everything out of the bag.
Eddie follows, hovering for a moment, before he sits too, leaving way more space between them than usual.
Fuck, this is awkward. Steve glances sidelong at Eddie, and he knows the reason for the awkwardness is different on Eddie’s side, at least partly, but that doesn’t make it any easier. More bearable. He sighs and shifts closer on the couch and is relieved when Eddie doesn’t move away.
They eat in silence, picking at their food until Eddie pushes his away and stands. “I’m going to put some music on.” He goes over to the stereo and hits play, and the same music from before fills the room, swallowing the awkward silence. The volume is low enough that they could still talk, but loud enough that it wouldn’t be too noticeable if they didn’t.
Steve sighs. He sticks his chopsticks into his carton of noodles and sits back. His stomach is too tied up in knots to eat. He wonders if Eddie feels the same because he’s barely touched his, and it’s his favorite.
The music Steve has grown to love jangles on his nerves, tonight, because Eddie is still standing by the stereo, and he’s so fucking still and quiet, and Steve can’t stand it.
He runs a hand over his face. “I hate seeing you like this, man.”
“Like what?”
“So…” Steve shrugs. “Quiet.”
For a moment, Steve wonders if Eddie will brush it off, pretend that everything’s okay, but he ends up saying, “Guess I don’t want to say the wrong thing,” and Steve’s chest squeezes tight.
He sits forward, lets out a strained sound that wants to be a laugh.
Eddie gives him a sharp, almost hurt, look. “What?”
“Just… That’s what I’ve been thinking.”
Eddie frowns, ducking his head. “Fuck.” He fists a hand in his hair, kicks at an old pizza box on the ground. “Fuck. I knew this would be weird.”
“It’s not, I swear. I don’t feel weird about you being…”
Eddie looks up, gaze unerring. “Gay.”
“Right.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I am, I just…” Steve trails off, not sure what to say. Does he spill his guts now? Everything is a jumble inside of him, and he’s not sure how to say it. So he asks, “Was it all you wanted to tell me? Because it seemed like there was something else,” like a fucking coward. Putting it on Eddie.
“I— It was enough.” Eddie sighs. “It’s all I could…” And he looks so unhappy it damn near breaks Steve’s heart.
“You’re usually more open with me, man. I feel like—” Steve rubs his chest. The noodles sit uneasily in his stomach. “Have I been a shitty friend?”
“No way, I swear. It’s just… It’s hard.”
“Yeah, I— I know.” Steve doesn’t push it any further. It wouldn’t be fair. And it’s not like he’s being open, right now. After a few moments, he says, “Hey, can I ask you something?”
Eddie nods.
“That guy yesterday…” Steve presses his lips together. “Is he the kind of guy you like?” He’s not sure if he’s stalling again, but he wants to know. Needs to know.
“Douchebags who can’t even remember my name?”
“No, you know…” Steve trails off. He feels a little stupid when he adds, “Pretty.”
Eddie gives him a strange look. “You thought he was pretty?”
“I mean—” Steve shrugs. “I guess.”
“Yeah, he was…hot. But he was all cheekbones, no personality.” Eddie looks at Steve and adds, emphatically, “I’m not into that.”
Steve nods. He hopes that he has personality enough for Eddie, and he wants to ask what Eddie is into, but maybe it wouldn’t be fair. And he can’t keep putting this off. They’ll both be too miserable if he does. He wipes his hands on his jeans, bites his lip. “I, uh… I actually wanted to talk.” He sucks in a breath. “Can you sit down, you’re making me kind of nervous.”
Eddie takes a hesitating step forward, pauses, then shakes himself and comes to sit on the couch.
Steve turns to him. Just fucking say it, Harrington. “So, um, I’ve been thinking. Dangerous, I know.” He lets out another laugh, and Eddie gives him the unimpressed look he does whenever Steve says something even remotely shitty about himself. Steve clears his throat, licks his lips. “You… I mean, I—”
“Yeah?”
“Jesus Christ, this is hard.” How is he meant to say this? “You’re my best friend and… Nothing will change that, but—”
“Shit, I don’t wanna hear this,” Eddie says, and starts to move away.
But Steve grabs his wrist, not pulling, just holding. “Please,” he says. “It’s not what you think. At least, I don’t think it’s what you think.”
Eddie settles back down, looks at Steve. “Look, man, just rip the bandaid off. The suspense is kinda killing me here.”
“Okay, yeah.” Steve nods. “Like I said, I’ve been thinking, and you’re…” Beautiful, everything I want, the guy of my dreams. He shakes his head. Way too much, way too soon. “I think that I—” He groans in frustration, scrubbing a hand over his face. “This is so dumb,” he mutters.
“What?”
Steve looks at him, and fuck it. Maybe he can just—
He raises his hand, rests it on Eddie’s shoulder, then slowly moves it to curl around the side of his neck. Rubs his thumb along Eddie’s jaw. Eddie is looking at him, guarded and a little uncertain, but he doesn’t move away. And then Steve leans in, and he kisses Eddie. It feels, yeah, it feels good. Right. And Eddie kisses him back, reaching for him.
The kiss goes from hesitant to passionate in an instant, Steve’s hands cradling Eddie’s jaw as he slides their tongues together, and Eddie’s hands everywhere.
But it’s over too soon because Eddie pulls away, eyes wide, saying, “No, I—” He shakes his head, pushing to his feet. “I can’t.”
Steve’s heart beats so hard he thinks he might be sick. He starts talking, not entirely sure what he’s saying: “Shit, I am so sorry, I thought maybe you were jealous when I went on that date that wasn’t a date, and that maybe that meant you were into me.”
At the same time, Eddie’s pacing back and forth, saying: “I thought I could, but I can’t be the guy you get curious with, okay? Like, that’s fine. No judgment, you know, it’s fine to be curious, or whatever, but there are other guys… I mean, I’m not gonna introduce you to any guys, I couldn’t— But there are other guys…”
It takes a moment for Eddie’s words to sink in, to slip past his own babbling, but when they do, Steve just…stops. “Wait, what?” He stands on shaky legs, goes over to Eddie. “Eddie, wait.” He catches Eddie by the elbow when he won’t stop muttering and pacing. “Hey, I don’t want to kiss other guys. I only want to kiss you.”
Eddie looks at him, but he doesn’t say anything. He looks surprised, though.
“But if you don’t want to…” God, Steve hopes that he does, even as he’s saying: “That’s okay. And I’m sorry.” He looks at the floor. When Eddie still doesn’t say anything, he adds, “Did you really think I’d kiss you just because I’m curious?”
“No.” Eddie’s voice comes out rough and low. “I just— I didn’t think you’d…”
Steve looks up. “What?”
Eddie shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, his lips slowly tilting in a smile. “Totally irrelevant now.” And then he grabs the front of Steve’s sweater, tugging him close. “Kiss me,” he says, and Steve does.
It’s like they’ve been doing this for years, but it’s new and exciting at the same time. Steve parts his lips, letting Eddie’s tongue slip inside his mouth. It’s hot. Heady.
Eddie’s hands slide up Steve’s chest, looping around his neck. He sinks his fingers into Steve’s hair, tugging a little, and Steve moans into the kiss. There’s a satisfied sound from Eddie, almost smug; Steve holds Eddie tight, one arm around his waist, the other across his shoulder blades. He fists his hands in Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer and closer still.
“Holy shit,” Eddie says when they part. He’s breathless, lips shining.
“What?”
“You were jealous of Nick.”
Warmth flushes Steve’s face. “What, no, I—” He breaks off at Eddie’s look. “Yeah, I was jealous.”
Eddie grins. “You’re way hotter than he is.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, “and I was jealous of your date,” and he kisses Steve again. Tilts his head back with the hand fisted in his hair, kisses along his jaw, his neck.
It turns Steve on, arousal coiling through him, tingling in his blood. He pulls Eddie impossibly closer, hands sliding down to Eddie’s ass.
Eddie’s hips twitch forward, but he pulls back again, tongue between his teeth, still smiling. “Come on,” he says, hooking two fingers over Steve’s belt, tugging him toward the bedroom.
Steve follows willingly.
--
The music is still playing in the other room, but in the bedroom there are only their shared breaths, catching on a moan or a sigh every now and then, the slick sounds of their kisses, the soft, sweet sounds of their bodies moving against each other.
Steve had worried he might feel out of his depth in a way he hasn’t with sex in a long time. But, while it’s new, he doesn’t feel lost or too uncertain. Not when he’s making Eddie pant and moan like this. With every touch and every kiss. Learning what turns Eddie on, what makes him squirm. Steve kisses each of Eddie’s tattoos, realizing as he does it that he’s wanted to do this for ages. And Eddie kisses all of Steve’s scars, and Steve doesn’t feel weird about it like he usually does. He runs his hand down Steve’s chest, tangling through his chest hair. He tugs a little, and, oh, Steve likes that.
They move together, hard and desperate, and it’s dizzying. It doesn’t feel weird like Steve thought it might with Eddie above him; he rolls his hips up for more friction, and Eddie smiles down at him.
“Good?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Steve says, “really good.”
Eddie kisses Steve, and then he reaches between them, curling his hand around the both of them, guiding Steve’s hand to do the same.
“Eddie,” Steve breathes.
“I know,” Eddie says, “I know,” kissing him again.
It’s not long before Steve comes, trembling and holding onto Eddie tight, and he’d be embarrassed that it was so quick, except Eddie follows not long after. It’s so incredibly hot. Steve kisses Eddie and pulls him tight against him. He doesn’t care that they’re sticky and sweaty, he just wants Eddie close.
Eddie pushes Steve’s hair back from his face. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, “I really am,” and he kisses Eddie again and again and again.
--
The morning comes, and Steve wakes in Eddie’s bed with Eddie in his arms. Eddie is sleep-warm, and his skin is soft, and he might be the most important person in Steve’s life. That’s… That’s a lot. What if Steve fucks this up? What if it ends the same way all of Steve’s relationships do, and he loses Eddie completely.
Panic weaves itself between the calm contentment, but then Eddie snuffles, and Steve looks at him, and it starts to ebb. He pushes Eddie’s hair out of his face, holds him a little tighter. Fuck, he is so in love with Eddie. It’s barely a revelation at this point, but it makes Steve’s heart beat hard in the best way. Eddie shifts, his foot hooking around Steve’s ankle. Steve frowns at the feeling because it’s not skin on skin. He pushes himself up a little, carefully so he doesn’t disturb Eddie, and pulls the covers up until he can see their feet. He has to bite back a laugh because Eddie’s wearing those fucking hole-ridden socks. Steve vaguely remembers Eddie getting up during the night, and he must have put them on then.
“Fucking dork,” Steve says. He lies there a moment longer before he eases himself out of the bed, pulls on his jeans and one of Eddie’s shirts, and slips out of the trailer.
He opens the passenger door of his car and reaches for the glove compartment, but he pauses. There’s no going back for them to what they were before but— Maybe they were already there. Either way, this is where Steve wants to be. He smiles and opens the glove compartment, and grabs what he’s looking for.
Inside the trailer, Eddie’s banging around in the kitchen in just an old t-shirt, his briefs, and those damn socks, muttering to himself. Probably about being up this early.
“Hey,” Steve says.
Eddie wheels around, wielding a butter knife. He blinks.
“Whoa, careful with that, might hurt someone,” Steve says, smiling. It slowly drops the longer Eddie just looks at him.
“Steve?”
Eddie’s been staring at him for a good thirty seconds, so Steve doesn’t understand the question in his voice. “Yeah.” He holds up a hand. “I swear I’m not the raccoon in disguise.”
“What?”
“The other day you said there was a suspicious raccoon hanging around.” Steve shifts his weight. “It was a joke.”
Eddie doesn’t crack a smile. “I thought you left.”
Eddie thought—
No wonder he’s in a shitty mood. Steve would be too if it was the other way around. “I had to get something from the car.” His brow furrows. “I was gone for, like a minute. I thought you were asleep.” He lifts one foot, then the other. “And I’m not wearing shoes.”
“I didn’t check to see if your shoes were still here.” Eddie throws his hands up, but he looks a little embarrassed.
And maybe Steve should be pissed or hurt that Eddie thought he ran out, but all he can do is grin. He bites his lip and says, “I got these for you,” holding out the socks he’s had stashed in his car for days.
Eddie frowns, but he sets the knife aside and takes them. “Socks?”
“Yeah, because yours have holes in them.” Steve folds his arms over his stomach. “I mean, it’s not romantic or anything, but I bought them before I realized…” He shrugs.
Eddie looks up at him and his eyes are all soft and fond. “Thanks,” he says. “Sorry for thinking you ran out.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” Eddie sets the socks on the counter and crosses his arms. He lifts one shoulder. “It’s just… You’re my best friend. And I thought I’d fucked everything up.”
Steve huffs. “I get it. I mean, I feel really good about this, but I think part of me is freaking out, too.”
“If you want out—”
“No. No way.” Steve swallows. “I— You’re my best friend, too, and I don’t want to lose that, but I don’t think we will.” And even as he says it, Steve realizes he believes it. Deep inside him, he knows this.
“Steve, I— I don’t just wanna hang out and fool around. I mean, I do but…”
“I know,” Steve says.
There’s a brief, loaded moment of silence, and then Eddie says, “I’ve wanted this for so long,” so quiet, voice wrecked, and Steve’s heart does break a little then.
“Eddie.” Steve reaches for him, running his hand down Eddie’s arm, their fingers catching. “I think I have, too, I just didn’t realize. And I’m sorry for being an idiot and not realizing sooner—”
“You’re not an idiot.” At Steve’s incredulous look, Eddie repeats, “You’re not. Dude, I mean, maybe I got here before you, but it took me a long time, too.”
Steve blinks. “It did?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” It settles a little of the lingering guilt, but— “I’m still sorry, though. At least for the past few days. I just had to figure things out but now I know and…” Maybe Steve doesn’t need to say anything else, but now that he’s started, he needs to get all of out it, so he goes on, “The thing is, I love that you wear your socks until they’re falling apart, and I love that you’re the last person I want to talk to at night, and I don’t want to leave Hawkins because you’re here. And I love— Shit.”
Eddie’s brows raise. “You love shit?”
“No, I— Shut up.” Steve huffs. “I stole the ‘last person I want to talk to’ bit from When Harry Met Sally…” His face warms, and Eddie’s lips twitch, but Steve presses on: “It’s true, though, and I just…” He sighs. “I just want to be with you. That’s all I’ve got, okay?” He spreads his hands. “I want to be with you, Eddie. You’re my favorite person.”
“Shit.”
“What?”
Eddie tilts his head to the side and smiles. “You’re my favorite person, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course you are.” Eddie catches Steve’s hand again, tugging. “Come here,” he says, and Steve falls into his arms.
“I really love you,” Steve whispers into the crook of Eddie’s neck.
Eddie tenses for a moment, and then he melts against Steve. “I— Yeah, I love you, too.”
Steve pulls back, and he looks at Eddie, and he kisses him. Soft and sweet, and with the knowledge he can do this whenever he wants. He kisses him once, twice, and then he tugs on Eddie’s wrist, pulling him over to the couch, and pushing Eddie down onto it. He sinks to his knees and grabs Eddie’s ankle.
“What are you doing?”
Steve peels one sock off of Eddie’s foot, then the other, and says, “Wait here,” dashing to the kitchen and grabbing the new socks.
“Are you serious?” Eddie says on a laugh when Steve comes back with them.
“Totally,” Steve says, and puts the new socks on Eddie’s feet. He tickles the sole of one foot, and Eddie nearly kicks him. “Careful,” he says, then straightens out the sock. “That’s better.” He kisses the inside of Eddie’s knee, and then Eddie pulls him up onto the couch with him.
“You’re weird.”
“So are you.”
Eddie smiles, and then his stomach growls. He rubs a hand over his stomach and says, “Hey, how do you feel about last night’s leftovers for breakfast?”
Steve smiles back and says, “I feel pretty good about them.”
--
Eddie has one leg slung over Steve’s, and he’s shoveling the rice he didn’t eat last night into his mouth while they watch a movie. He looks so fucking happy, and it makes Steve’s chest feel so full, and he can’t stop smiling around mouthfuls of his reheated noodles. It’s weird because it’s not weird at all, to be with Eddie like this. To trail his hand up Eddie’s calf, his thigh, to run his hand through Eddie’s hair.
It feels like it always does with them but better because now this thing Steve hadn’t even realized was locked tight within him is free. He huffs, shaking his head.
Eddie looks over at him, cheeks stuffed with egg roll. “What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“About?”
Steve lets his gaze run down Eddie’s body and says, “When I can get you naked again,” and it’s really fucking exciting to be able to say that.
“That’s a good thing to think about.”
“I thought so.”
Eddie smiles. “Any thoughts on when it might be?”
“I’m hoping soon.”
“You know,” Eddie says, setting aside his takeout container, “the chances for soon are looking pretty good,” as he pushes himself up and over Steve.
Steve slips his hands under Eddie’s shirt, running his fingers along his ribs. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, and he pulls his shirt off. “Pretty damn good, actually.”
--
A little while later, they’re back in Eddie’s bed, tangled in the sheets, Eddie on his stomach, Steve on his back. Eddie props his chin on his hand, looks over at Steve. There’s nothing guarded in his gaze, now, and Steve is almost breathless with all the raw affection he sees there.
“This kind of feels like a dream,” Eddie says.
“A good one?”
“No, a nightmare.” Eddie rolls his eyes, but there’s a soft smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, a good one.”
Steve smiles, head pillowed on his hands. “A wet one?”
Eddie barks out his laugh. “Yeah, that too.” He shoves Steve lightly. They look at each other, probably making sickening goo-goo eyes at each other, but Steve revels in it. After a few moments, Eddie asks, “Are you working today?”
“Nope, gave myself another day off.”
“Playing hooky again? I might be a bad influence on you.”
“I hope so,” Steve says, and Eddie laughs. It’s so good to hear him laugh. Steve rolls onto his side and pulls Eddie until he’s lying facing Steve. He runs his hand down Eddie’s ribs, along his hip, his thigh. It’s intoxicating, to be able to touch him like this.
Eddie can’t seem to stop touching Steve either, and it’s so good, to be touched. To be touched by Eddie.
Steve hooks his ankle over Eddie’s leg and drags him close. “Hey,” he says, “do you wanna go for another drive today?”
The light slipping past the cracks in the curtains washes over Eddie’s body, highlighting the planes and sharp angles, the gentle dip of his waist. “Nah.” Eddie pushes his hand through Steve’s hair, runs it down his neck. “I think I’d rather stay here.”
“Yeah,” Steve says, “me too,” and that’s exactly what they do.