Saving All My Love For You

It was decided then and there in the Buckley residence’s lounge, on their weird Persian carpet while staring up at the off-white ceiling and Robin giggling at his side. He was going to rock Steve Harrington’s platonic world, man. And nothing was going to get in his way.
Or... Eddie notices Steve struggles with touch and in trying to help his new friend, develops feelings along the way.

Notes:

So uh I am very new to the Stranger Things fandom, mostly got roped in because of Steddie and stayed for the awesome characters and 80s aesthetic. I saw there weren't many fics from Eddie's POV and am really just fascinated with his and Steve's characters so I figured why not try my hand at a Steddie fic. Hope you enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

If you had told Eddie Munson three weeks ago that he’d be splayed out on some fancy Persian rug while sharing a joint with Robin Buckley, he probably would have shrugged and said, “Sure, why not.” It still feels a little surreal to be here in her house, sharing a throw pillow and passing a joint back and forth as they stare up at the ceiling talking nonsense. Or, well, not nonsense but—

“And her freckles, man. They’re just so… so…”

“Kissable?” Eddie supplies.

Robin sits up, elbows bracketing Eddie’s head as she grins manically down at him. “Exactly.” She flops back down with a happy sigh, humming a tune that sounds suspiciously like something from Pattie Smith’s latest hit.

If you had also told Eddie Munson three weeks ago that Robin Buckley was as gay as a picnic, he would have nodded and said, “Yeah, figures.” Not to toot his own horn but he’s pretty good at spotting one of his own kind if you catch his drift. Robin, on the other hand, had needed more than a few unsubtle hints before she finally connected the dots. But when she finally did it was like something clicked between them and suddenly they weren’t alone anymore, not in this regard. They had each other.

Sure Eddie would make the occasional trip to Indianapolis, enjoy a night or two in some of the more inclusive clubs where he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder, where he can just breathe and be. But there’s something to be said about having someone you can just kick back with and shoot the shit without having to censure yourself for the sake of safety.

And the fact that until now, for Robin, that person had been Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington still doesn’t quite compute. Out of all people, Steve is probably the last person Eddie would have expected to be cool about this.

But then again, Steve’s proven a lot about himself since that hellish week that was a game of deadly hide-and-seek from angry townspeople and a fight to the death with a boss-level monster and his horde of devil-bats come to life.

The guy was a douche during his reign as Hawkins High’s king, there’s no doubt about that. But now… Now, there’s something about him. Something that intrigues Eddie, has been scratching at his curiosity relentlessly. And Eddie’s never been one to ignore a hunch.

So yeah, maybe these last couple weeks, Eddie’s been paying visits at Family Video, not only to talk shit with Robin but to chat up Steve too, to get a feel for him, to try and understand what’s so different about him now that rather annoyance, Eddie feels something close to, dare he say it, affection towards the ex-Populaire. Or at the very least, a need to protect him.

Not that Steve can’t handle himself. He certainly proved otherwise when he ripped one of those demo bats in two like some kind of action hero in the latest mindless blockbuster. But Eddie notices things.

He notices how, if the kids get a little rough around him, that a wince will pull at his lips. That he jumps whenever there’s the slam of the door or a shot from a car exhaust. How even at times with their Platonic Soulmate with a capital P affection, he’ll stiffen if Robin’s movements to hug him or slug him are too quick. That he looks like he wants to pull away from her touch but then at the last second manages to slip on a smile and push through the discomfort.

Eddie’s no expert, but Wayne was there in Vietnam, had gone to hell and back himself. He knows the signs. Knows what it means.

It may be the grass lowering his brain-to-mouth filter but he’s been sitting stewing on these thoughts for what feels like hours now so he can’t really help it when the words slip past his lips.

“How’d you and Harrington become friends anyway?”

“We were interrogated together by Russians,” Robin replies immediately with an air that speaks of forced casualness. Like she wants it to seem like it’s not a big deal even though it’s a fucking Big Deal. Capital B and D.

He listens as she rambles through a story that, under any other circumstances, he’d think was total bullshit brought on by the grass. But knowing what he does now, about the Upside Down, about the government’s involvement and the conspiracies and the hush money, now it seems nothing but plausible even if Russians creating a labyrinthine base below a mall of all things is the story in question.

Robin gets a little quieter when she talks about the interrogation part, though. How Steve had been brought back with a swollen eye and blood littering his teeth. At least now Eddie knows where he got that scar just below the bottom right corner of his lips. The one that girls will use as a talking point while hitting on Steve, asking how he got it while twirling their ponytails around their fingers. Only Steve always manages to brush it aside, to switch the topic or ask her a question instead even though he looks anything but interested in being flirted with.

And suddenly it all clicks. The flinches, the grimaces, the brushing off of concern.

Steve Harrington is afraid of being touched. Or rather, he’s so used to touch leading to pain that at this point he’s come to expect violence first and affection second. And on any regular day that would already break Eddie’s heart but his thoughts are running wild and buck-naked in the metaphorical field of his consciousness so now he feels extra concerned and even more determined to do something about it.

This may be high Eddie coming up with the plan, but he knows himself well enough that sober Eddie is gonna see this plan through because he’s a stubborn, caring bastard that way.

And that’s how Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson decides that not only is he going to befriend Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington but he’s going to show him so much platonic affection Steve won’t know what hit him. Because if anyone deserves comforting touches and kindness, to know that not all touches hurt, that not every hand aims to injure, it’s Steve.

Not King Steve, royal douchebag of Hawkins High, but the real Steve. The Steve who winds back tapes at Family Video and grumbles about being the babysitter even though he loves each and every one of those kids he complains about. The Steve who didn’t so much as think twice before accepting Robin for who she is and who’d carted a half-conscious Eddie through the Upside Down to the nearest gate in search of medical aid even though he himself was in dire need of it too.

It was decided then and there in the Buckley residence’s lounge on their weird Persian carpet while staring up at the off-white ceiling with Robin giggling at his side. He was going to rock Steve Harrington’s platonic world, man. And nothing was going to get in his way.

Stage one of Eddie’s brilliant plan comes into effect that Friday night. For once, Steve doesn’t have a date planned and he and Robin were both off work so Eddie had suggested oh-so-casually that the three of them grab dinner at Dixie’s because why not?

Steve had seemed a little hesitant at first, his eyes glancing between an insistent Eddie and an amused Robin.

“I wouldn’t be interrupting… whatever you guys got going on?”

Robin had rolled her eyes, slapping Steve on the bicep—Steve winces but just as quickly fixes his expression back to neutral ground before Robin can notice. “We’re all friends here, dingus. Just come. Plus, who else am I gonna catch a lift with?”

Eddie could have easily given her a lift but the flimsy excuse seems to work well enough for Steve who had, playing at reluctance but actually seemed kinda pleased at the statement, eventually agreed.

Which is how a metalhead, a band geek and an ex-prom king find themselves squeezed into a tattered red leather booth of the Dixie Diner, some fifties bop playing on the jukebox in the corner while young couples share milkshakes with big googly, love-stricken eyes. It sounds like the start of some lame joke but nope. This is Eddie’s reality now.

The waitress, a girl who can’t be much older than nineteen, comes to take their order, Steve listing off his and Robin’s together without the bat of an eyelash while simultaneously ignoring the questioning look the waitress is giving the pair. It seems no matter how many times they both have to say it, almost everyone still assumes Robin and Steve are a thing at first glance. Which, knowing what he knows, is kind of hilarious and highly outrageous which makes it all the funnier in Eddie’s eyes.

The waitress turns to Eddie then, her eyes narrowing slightly as recognition crosses her features.

The government may have pulled a few strings and pinned Vecna’s murders on some other serial killer they had saved in their back pocket for such a situation as this. Jason Carver and the rest of his lovely family were given, shall we say, an incentive to move far, far away from Hawkins and to never mention his misguided notions of satanic rituals ever again. And not only did the government help clear Eddie’s name of all charges but they went so far as to name him and Steve as the heroes who had put themselves between the real killer and Max who was to be the next victim. It explained all their Vecna and Upside Down-related injuries away, told the kind of uplifting story the news outlets could never pass up, and just like that all their loose ends were tied up in neat little lying bows and Hawkins did as Hawkins did best. Moved the fuck on.

That didn’t mean Eddie still didn’t get the occasional glare though. The seeds of distrust had long since been sowed, even before he was being pinned for murder. He certainly hadn’t made the situation any easier for himself, fueling rumours and playing into the role he’d been cast in. Eddie Munson, the freak. Eddie Munson, the weirdo. Eddie Munson, the trailer trash. Eddie Munson, the scary, out-of-control metalhead.

He’s heard it all and more. By now, most of the names roll off his back like it’s nothing. But even he can admit the glares and whispers still cause his nerves to prickle from time to time. Excuse him for not being forgiving towards the people who had literally attempted to hunt him down and snuff him out like some rabid dog.

“I’ll get a strawberry swirl and a cheeseburger with extra large fries,” he orders, offering a mostly innocent smile despite the waitress’s less-than-friendly expression.

She pinches the edge of the menu he offers back to her like it’s been infected or something, her smile slightly more real when she takes Steve and Robin’s too. Eddie doesn’t miss the appreciative little look up and down she steals at Steve before sashaying off, just like he doesn’t miss the slight downturn of Steve’s lips at her behaviour.

“You’d think people would fucking know better by now,” he mutters.

Eddie doesn’t know if Steve’s talking about people still treating Eddie like garbage or the fact that ever since their return from the Upside Down, Casanova Steve has been out of business. Eddie has watched in confusion as the once smooth-talking all-star turned down plenty of offers of dates and other adjacent activities from interested girls. The kind of girls that Steve could always be perfectly pictured with. Girls with short tennis skirts and glittering nails and intense eyes. All of them hungry for a piece of the hero of Hawkins, and all of them leaving Family Video disappointed when Steve pretends to not get the hint or flat-out refuses when they won’t relent.

It was… confusing, to say the least.

Robin clicks her tongue at Steve’s remark, bringing Eddie out of his thoughts. She nudges Steve’s shoulder non-too-gently before scooting out of the booth.

“Try not to start any fights while I’m gone,” she insists, not giving Steve a chance to retort before she’s disappearing into the ladies’ room.

Which leaves just Steve and Eddie sitting across from one another in mildly awkward silence. Until now, Robin has sort of been the glue shall we say between their odd trio. That and the shared trauma of nearly being offed by a bunch of blood-thirsty demo-bats. But Eddie could admit, Steve Harrington had his attention and really, what better time to try and bridge the gap than now?

“So…” Eddie starts, fingers drumming on the tabletop.

“So,” Steve echoes.

And that’s as far as Eddie gets before the waitress is returning with a tray of milkshakes.

“Strawberry swirl,” she mutters, plunking Eddie’s in front of him and not caring that it nearly spills all over his lap.

“A bubblegum supreme,” she adds, placing Robin’s down until finally she turns up the charm and offers Steve a real pretty smile as she carefully slides his chocolate milkshake before him. “And a chunky chocolate.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, offering what can only be described as the shadow of a smile.

“You’re quite the sweet tooth,” the waitress remarks. “Though I guess you’re girlfriend’s choice isn’t too bad either.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Steve murmurs, his finger fidgeting with the drops of dew on his glass.

Either this waitress is totally oblivious or overly confident because she seems to take that as a sign to keep pushing. She goes so far as to lean her forearms on the table, giving Steve a perfect view of the low V-neck of her uniform.

“Well, she’s missing out.”

Steve snorts, a derisive smile twisting his lips. “Ah, no, she can do way better than me.” His eyes finally meet the waitress’s, smile dimming as he continues, “So can you.”

Finally, a small crack appears in the girl’s confident façade, her sickly sweet smile twitching in the corner.

“Why don’t you let me decide that?”

“Trust me,” Steve insists, “You can do better.”

The waitress’s eyes dart to Eddie then, like she’s asking for backup, for someone to argue with Steve. But Eddie is more than content to kick back, head cradled in his hands with a smug smile as he watches her chances go up in a fiery pit of flames.

She straightens and with a huff and flick of her blonde ponytail, flounces off with what remains of her dignity.

“You’re wrong you know,” Eddie says.

Steve’s shoulders curl, fingers still drawing nonsense patterns into the water droplets frosting his glass.

“About?”

“It’s not that you don’t deserve her,” Eddie says, leaning forward as he offers a gentle smile. “She doesn’t deserve you.”

Steve’s mouth parts, argument on the tip of his tongue, but Eddie doesn’t let him get so much as a peep out before adding, “Trust me, man, as your friend. You are way better and deserve far more than all,” he waves a hand in the general direction where the waitress had stormed off, amping up his disgust with a silly face as he grumbles, “that.”

His expression falters however when he looks back at Steve and finds him gaping at Eddie like he’s grown a second head.

“What?” Eddie asks, patting down his jacket and hair, trying to figure out what’s got Steve staring at him like that.

“You consider me a friend?” Steve rasps.

Eddie’s hands drop to his lap, brows dancing up past his bangs.

“Uh… yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I dunno, man,” Steve stammers, his hands gripping his milkshake glass like it’s a life raft, “I mean, I know you and Robin are close. But I thought…”

“What?” Eddie prompts when Steve just tapers off and doesn’t keep going.

Steve shakes his head, gaze fixed firmly on the tabletop, like if he goes long enough without saying something Eddie will just drop it. But like, say, an untrained retriever puppy, Eddie doesn’t know when to let go of things. So he sits up in his seat, rings clinking where he rests his hands on the tabletop and leans across, head ducked to try and catch Steve’s gaze.

“What? Come on, man, don’t leave me hanging!”

“I thought you were just tolerating me!” Steve proclaims.

Eddie seizes up in shock, Steve looking rather shocked at himself for blurting it out like that.

Several heads swivel their way but a quick glare from Eddie has them turning away again.

“Tolerating you?” Eddie echoes.

Steve shrugs, hands waving about in strange, aborted gestures. “Yeah, man. I mean. I was King Steve. I was a total asshole to you and your friends.”

“Well, Tommy was an asshole,” Eddie corrects but Steve shakes his head.

“No, I was too. I know I was. I didn’t… I knew the things we said and did were wrong, but I didn’t… I didn’t say anything to stop it. I didn’t… I was scared. Scared that if I did then I’d just become their next victim.”

Sucking in a tremulous breath, Steve offers what Eddie thinks is supposed to be a reassuring smile but God it just looks broken.

“So, I get it,” Steve says, voice shrinking into something meek and so unlike the Steve Harrington Eddie knows. “I’d totally get it if you want nothing to do with me. If you just wanna hang out with Robin and pretend I don’t exist, that’s fine.”

“I don’t though.”

Steve falters, his brows scrunching together in confusion.

“What?”

“I don’t wanna pretend you don’t exist,” Eddie explains because wow, he knew he was gonna have his work cut out for him but even he couldn’t have anticipated this. That Steve had already prepared himself for rejection in the friendship department, had convinced himself that Eddie is merely tolerating his presence to hang out with Robin. Like he isn’t even worth Eddie’s time. And oh, how the tables turn, Eddie thinks with morbid humour.

“Look, yeah, okay, we weren’t close in high school, sure,” Eddie continues, Steve snorting with a shake of his head at the casual glossing over. “But that was then. And I am nothing if not a believer in second chances. And I don’t know if you noticed, dude, but we kind of saved the world together. You fucking carried me however many miles through that hellscape and made sure I got out. I think that more than makes up for your douchebag years in high school.”

“What are you saying?” Steve says, shaking his head in disbelief.

Eddie rolls his eyes, giving this big put-upon sigh even though he’s feeling nothing but exasperated fondness for this idiot.

“I’m saying that despite how much cooler I am than you in every way, I’d like to be your friend.”

And Eddie didn’t think it was possible, but Steve’s eyes get even wider. So wide he worries they might pop out or something.

“You really mean that?”

Eddie grins, all mischief and boyhood. “The me being cooler than you part? One hundred per cent, Steve-o.”

“No, the friend part.”

“Oh, yeah. That too.”

“Really?”

Eddie nods, all his suave swagger leaving him with nothing but genuine openness. “Despite it all, I’d like to be friends with you, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

And to illustrate his point, he playfully knocks his foot with Steve’s under the table. Only he realizes instantaneously that that was maybe not the best idea because Steve nearly jumps a foot in the air, his knee slamming into the bottom of the table in his fright. Eddie winces in sympathy pain, raising his hands up in a calming gesture.

“Just me man, sorry.”

Steve groans, his forehead landing on the tabletop for all of two seconds before he remembers the state of forever-stickiness all diner tables share.

“It’s all right. I’m just… I get a little jumpy sometimes. After all the…” he waves his hand, fingers twiddling in what Eddie guesses is a gesture to represent all the weirdness that comes with Vecna and the Upside Down.

“All good, Harrington,” Eddie assures him.

“It’s just. Three years, man, it… A lot can happen in that time.” Eddie can practically taste the unuttered words beneath Steve’s statement. How much a person, how much Steve has changed in that time.

And the fact that people can’t see it, that they can’t look past the vapid mask Steve had put on in high school to make it through that blood-thirsty ecosystem unscathed just like every other scared out of their mind freshman. Well. Honestly, it’s their loss.

“If I’m ever too much just say the word and I’ll give you your space,” Eddie says, his hands drumming a quick beat to punctuate the promise. “I know I can be, well, a lot at times so—”

“You’re not.”

Eddie freezes, Steve offering him his first real smile since they sat down.

“Too much,” Steve adds. “Like, sure, maybe you’re a little over-dramatic at times but—”

Eddie snorts at the complete understatement of the century, Steve rolling his eyes with an amused tilt to his lips.

“But that’s only a piece of you. The whole you… well. I’m starting to realize Eddie Munson is actually a pretty cool dude.”

“Cooler than you?” Eddie teases, chuckling when it earns him a playful kick to his shin beneath the table.

“Don’t push it, man,” Steve warns, no fire in his tone at all.

“What did I miss?” Robin asks, sliding back into her seat and slurping happily at her milkshake as her eyes dart between them.

“Well, I asked Steve to be my friend and he said yes!” Eddie says, putting on a sarcastically excited tone like he’s some schoolboy gushing about his crush. Which, okay at one point actually would have been true. But not now. Not anymore. Eddie’s learned that lesson the hard way.

Don’t fall for straight boys. It’ll only end in tears.

Robin’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, straw still trapped between her lips as she looks to Steve for confirmation.

Steve shrugs and then nods, the picture of nonchalance. “It’s true.”

“Good for you, dingus!” Robin proclaims, patting Steve’s shoulder like he’s done a good job.

“Yeah, dingus, good for you,” Eddie cheers as well, holding his hand up for a high five.

Steve shakes his head at both their antics, actively ignoring Eddie’s hovering hand to take a pointed sip of his own milkshake instead.

Eddie lets his hand drop, the rejection not stinging even in the least. Because it was just something silly between friends.

Steve Harrington is officially his friend.

Stage one: complete.

Despite all the odds and stupid high school films that say it shouldn’t happen—looking at you John Hughs—being friends with Steve Harrington is surprisingly easy. Almost scarily so.

Yes, Steve is a total newbie to D&D lore and refuses to play the game despite both Dustin and Eddie’s prodding. But that doesn’t stop him from sticking around in Hellfire’s headquarters, curled up on the couch and listening intently as Eddie spins the latest segment of their ongoing campaign. He pretends not to care but Eddie can feel his eyes on him, just as wide and interested as the rest of the kids’.

Yes, Steve has perhaps the worst taste in music Eddie has ever come across. But that doesn’t stop them from spending hours in the record store bickering playfully about each other’s supposed lack of taste or trying to find the weirdest instalment of cover art to make fun of, much to the irritation of the lackey behind the counter.

Yes, it’s a little like pulling teeth the first couple of times Eddie comes around to Family Video and tries to involve Steve in his and Robin’s conversations rather than just letting him wander aimlessly through the stacks doing returns like he used to. But Eddie is nothing if not determined and eventually, Steve gets the hint and starts to partake of his own accord. He even goes so far as to gang up with Eddie against Robin as they tease her about her ever-growing ‘friendship’ with a newly single Vickie.

“God if I’d known you’d both be this insufferable I’d have never let you become friends,” she’d grumbled but Eddie could see the slight up-tilt in the corner of her lips, the unspoken fondness because her two closest friends are finally starting to find their own bond.

So yeah. Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington are friends, much to the rather amusing confusion of the entirety of Hawkins.

Phase two of operation “Rock Steve’s Platonic World” however takes a slightly slower approach. At least at first.

From what happened in the diner with just a meagre touch of his foot to Steve’s, Eddie had realized that he needed to be smart about this. He needed to do some serious strategizing because otherwise he might push Steve too far too fast and do nothing but only add to the problem.

So, despite it going against his overly physically affectionate nature, Eddie keeps his distance when it comes to Steve. He doesn’t try to make it too obvious. After all, it might send Steve the wrong message if he’s familiar with everyone in their group except him despite their newly affirmed friendship status. But rather than slinging his arm around Steve’s neck and giving him a light jostle, he moves slowly, placing a soft hand on his shoulder with a quick greeting squeeze instead. Rather than running up behind him and attacking him with a surprise hug, he’ll make sure Steve spots him well ahead of time and shares a wave that always earns that silly little toodle-loo wiggle of his fingers that Steve does. And rather than punch his bicep or give his back a hardy clap for a job well done, he’ll offer up a high five which Steve now returns at least ninety per cent of the time—a great improvement since Dixie’s, in Eddie’s esteemed opinion.

It’s slow going, but totally worth it for the small sighs of relief he catches, the grateful looks and soft smiles when the kids or Robin aren’t paying attention.

Which is why when Eddie hears a frantic knocking on his trailer’s front door on an unassuming Thursday evening and opens it to find a rather frantic-looking Steve on the other side, he’s surprised, sure, but also kind of not.

“I’m really sorry for not calling first but Robin’s on one of her not-dates with Vickie and Dustin’s on his scheduled radio call with Suzie and I didn’t know where else to go just that I needed to get the hell out of there before I exploded,” Steve blurts.

By ‘out of there’ Eddie guesses Steve means his house. He could vaguely remember Steve mentioning earlier in the week during an after-school visit to Family Video that his parents would be coming home for the first time in months.

Admittedly, when he first caught wind of just how fucked up Steve’s home life is, he’d been a little out of it at the time. Being attacked by demo-bats and nearly bleeding to death earns you some seriously intense painkillers. But when his mind wasn’t foggy with the drugs, the kids would come to pay a visit to check in on him, Max and Steve. They were placed in separate rooms so he had to hear it through the grapevine that is Dustin’s inability to keep his mouth shut that while Steve’s parents had been informed that he was at the hospital, that he’d been attacked by a serial killer resulting in some near-fatal wounds, that he’d gotten them saving a girl’s life; despite all of that, neither of them was willing to cut their so-called “very important business trip’ short to come and check on him. Not so much as even a card with some kind of explanation or even one of those low-quality teddy bears they sell in the hospital gift shop.

Now, Eddie has first-hand experience with A-quality shitty parenting but even he can’t quite wrap his head around the concept of the Harringtons. That, for them, it’s somehow normal to all but ignore their son and responsibilities as parents ninety-nine per cent of the time only to arrive home once every couple of months and act as if they’ve never been gone. Like everything is hunky-dory in the Harrington household. At least, that’s what Eddie’s surmised from the few times Steve’s willingly talked about his home life—or rather his lack thereof.

Obviously, whatever attempt at ‘family time’ Steve’s parents had inflicted hadn’t ended well. Steve’s clearly distressed, his fingers clenched white-knuckled at his sides and eyes darting about nervously as he shifts from foot to foot. He looks about two seconds away from bolting if Eddie making any sudden movements. So he stays still, keeps his voice calm and even as he says, “It’s okay, man. You’re welcome here any time.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, almost sounding like he thinks it’s too good to be true.

“Of course,” Eddie assures him.

Any other night, Eddie would step back and sweep his arm with a low bow, welcoming Steve into his humble abode. Only the last time he did that he ended up with a girl plastered against his ceiling, Eddie unable to do anything but sit there and scream as Vecna had his way with her.

So he thinks carefully before offering Steve a grin. He nabs his keys, stomping into his abandoned Reeboks without actually doing the laces, and shuts the trailer door behind him. Steve stumbles back, Eddie skipping down the stairs and waltzing over to his van. “Come on, Harrington. I wanna show you something.”

Thankfully, Steve goes without question, sliding into the passenger seat. His shoulders slump with what Eddie thinks is relief as he sits back against the creaky leather of the van’s seat, eyes fluttering shut as he releases a long, low breath. Like Atlas slowly shucking the weight of the world off his shoulders.

The drive isn’t all that long, just a couple of miles up from the trailer park where there’s nothing but empty fields and large expanses of sky. Putting his van into park, Eddie shows a reluctant Steve how to climb onto the top of his van. The minute they’re spread out on their backs pressed shoulder to shoulder and Steve’s eyes find the stars, a sense of peace settles over them.

“Wow…”

“Yeah. Pretty sweet view, right?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve nods, his eyes never leaving the sky.

Usually, in a moment like this, Eddie would pull out one of his reserved joints he keeps in his jacket pocket and offer to share, but he refrains this time. As far as he knows the last time Steve was high, he’d been tortured by Russians. He didn’t want to risk bringing up bad memories.

So he lays back, head pillowed on his folded arm, ankles crossed and relaxed as he and Steve admire the night sky in all its inky-black glory.

He doesn’t know how long they just lay there, but his tailbone’s starting to complain a little when Steve speaks up again.

“I always hate when they come home.”

“Your parents?”

Steve nods. “It’s like, they think if they’re gone away long enough that by the time they get back I’ll have gotten my act together and not be a disappointment. But surprise!” He waves his hands in a half-hearted jazzy way. “I’m exactly the same as when you left last time, assholes. Jokes on you!”

His hands flop down, the heels of his palms pressing against his eye sockets.

“And it just gets harder and harder each time they come, ya know. Because they insist on enforcing all this domestic bliss shit with their sit-down dinners and their brainless small talk over breakfast about how everyone else’s kids are so successful and doing so well for themselves and then my dad just looks at me. And I fucking swear it’s like he’s taking a dagger to my heart each time, man. And I dunno why this time felt worse it was just… they were pissing me off. Maybe I’ve dealt with all this Upside Down shit for too long but trying for normal after all that just feels futile.”

“Big word, Harrington,” Eddie can’t help but tease, hoping Steve might actually take a breath now instead of talking all the oxygen out of his system.

“Nancy got me this stupid word of the day calendar thing as a gag gift for my birthday,” Steve explains, his voice softening at the mention of his friend.

After all, he’d witnessed in the Upside Down, the looks and the tension between Nancy and Steve, Eddie had been at least seventy to eighty per cent certain the two were gonna get back together once all the madness was over. But no, Wheeler and Byers are still sickeningly sweet and while Steve sometimes watches the pair with this sad little twinge to his lips, he also seems… content with the outcome. Like he’s happy for them even if it hurts him a little still to see them together.

“Anyway,” Steve sighs, hands dropping to his sides. “Usually, I can just smile and nod through my dad’s disappointed lectures but this time I just couldn’t take it.”

“Did you snap at him?”

“A little…” Steve admits quietly. “I got out of there so fast, man. I didn’t even register I was driving till I was halfway to yours.”

“I mean, I get it,” Eddie says. “The not being able to go back to normal bit, anyway. Like, it feels so weird to go back to school and act like nothing’s happened. Like Jason Carver hadn’t fucking rallied Hawkins into hunting me down. Like there hadn’t been an all-out war going on right beneath their feet. I wanted to graduate so bad before all this shit went down but now, I really just want to get out of there so I don’t have to deal with all the looks and the whispers and stupid come-ons—”

“Girls have been coming onto you?” and of course, that’s what Steve focuses on.

Eddie scoffs, putting on a fanciful air because that’s what he does best. He plays at dramatics and pretends he’s all riled up to hide what he’s really feeling. And it works every time.

“Not nearly as many as you, Superhero Steve, but yeah, a couple of chicks suddenly think it's cool to date the school freak.”

“But you haven’t taken them up on the offer?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t have time for that kinda thing,” he says, using the age-old excuse he’d cooked up way, way back, that still works most of the time when it comes to these conversations. “Graduation’s just around the corner and I’m still fucking struggling to just sit down and study for my freaking English exam!”

“I could help you.”

Eddie falters, his hands dropping from where they’d been gesticulating during his rant. “What?”

“I mean, I’m no Nancy Wheeler but if I could pass that exam, hell, so can you man. You just need a little push is all.”

And this. This is the moment. The opening Eddie’s been waiting for.

“Thanks, Harrington,” he whispers at the same moment he presses the back of his hand to Steve’s.

He holds his breath, looking out of the corner of his eye as he waits for Steve’s reaction.

He feels Steve stiffen slightly where their shoulders are pressed together, is already starting to pull his hand away when he feels Steve’s pinkie wrap around his own.

“I-I promise you, Munson,” he says, uncharacteristically stuttering. “Come graduation, you’re gonna walk that stage and show all those assholes that they were wrong.”

Eddie turns his face fully towards Steve now, the tips of his fingers finding Steve’s, subtlety be damned. “You… You really think I can do it?”

Steve’s looking at him too, offering him an encouraging smile. “If you can survive the Upside Down, you can do anything.”

“Your confidence is astounding,” Eddie exclaims with a chuckle. His laughter cuts off though when he feels Steve tangle their fingers together, giving Eddie’s hand a gentle squeeze. His expression is open and honest, not so much as an inch of doubt.

“I’m known for being a little over-confident. It would be nice if this time, it came in handy. So, if you’re ever doubting yourself, just call me or come over or just… whatever you need, I’ll try and help. Because you of all people deserve to graduate and move on from that shitty school.”

“I… That’s…”

“What’s this?” Steve says with a mock gasp, “Have I, Steve Harrington, left the Eddie Munson speechless?”

“All right, all right, don’t go letting it get to your head,” Eddie grumbles.

Steve gives what almost sounds like a giggle, an actual honest to God giggle. Their hands are still clasped between them but rather than pull away, Steve simply adjusts his grip, his thumb stroking over Eddie’s knuckles and brushing the edge of the lone ring there.

It’s the only thing Eddie has left of his mother’s. Something small that he could hide away while his father was on a rampage throwing all her stuff in trash bags, angry that she’d gotten away, that he didn’t have his gnarled little fingers in her anymore. And though it hurt that she didn’t take him with her, Eddie couldn’t begrudge her for getting out when she did. So he kept the ring, had it re-sized when his hands started getting too big for it, and he always makes sure it’s the only ring he wears on his right hand. Because it’s the smallest piece of her he can still hold onto. A reminder of the scarce happy moments they managed to carve for themselves even when they were living in hell with his asshole alcoholic of a father.

The ring’s always been right up his alley, with its dark black stone and thick, decorative metal band. They’d always been peas in a pod, him and his mother. She was the one who taught him how to play the guitar, had helped him as he struggled through chord changes, always positive, always telling him he’d get it eventually until he did.

God, that feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Munson?” Steve asks, his thumb still stroking over Eddie’s knuckles. “Where’d you go?”

“Just thinking,” Eddie sighs, twiddling his bejewelled fingers at his temple. “A lot’s happened. A lot’s changed.”

He turns his head again and finds Steve already watching him with that look. The one that had made girls titter in the hallways, whispering that when Steve Harrington levels you with The Look, it’s like you’re the only two people in the universe. It sort of feels like that now with just the two of them here, floating amongst the stars, away from all their troubles and worries. At least for one night.

“And despite all the shit that we had to go through, I kinda like where I’m at right now,” Eddie admits, his hand squeezing Steve’s.

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, his lips curling up in a soft, sweet smile. “Yeah, me too.”

Eddie didn’t really expect the hand holding to become a thing.

He figured it was safe for just that once when it was just him and Steve in the dark with no one else around. Don’t get him wrong, Eddie loves going against the status quo but even he isn’t stupid enough to try and hold another guy’s hand in public. Not in a hick-ville town like Hawkins.

But Steve somehow always manages to make it so casual, so natural, like it’s totally normal to gently grasp Eddie’s fingers when they cross the street like he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t run off into traffic. Or when he offers Eddie a hand down when they’re out on a walk and he’s struggling to get over an outcropping of rocks only to let his fingers linger on Eddie’s like he’s checking in and then almost seems reluctant as he slowly drops his hand as they keep walking. Or when Eddie’s sitting up front in Steve’s car, messing with his radio to try and find a single good song and Steve will just trap his hand in his to stop him and keep it hostage for the rest of the ride, only letting go to shift gears but then easily slotting his fingers with Eddie’s and letting it rest by Eddie’s knee.

Totally casual. Yep. One hundred per cent.

But it’s probably the pinkie thing that really has Eddie hooked.

You would think crossing pinkies with someone would feel so unsubstantial, so miniscule compared to full-on hand holding. But not with Steve Harrington.

He’ll be walking Eddie to his van after another Hellfire meeting where he’s been roped into giving the kiddos a lift home again when his pinkie will find Eddie’s and they sort of just… stay like that the entire walk to his car which feels both far too short and yet like it lasts an eternity at the same time. Or they’ll be watching a movie with Robin, her feet kicked up into Steve’s lap, the scent of melted butter wafting through the air thanks to a bag of microwave popcorn, and Steve’s pinkie finger will find Eddie’s, almost hesitant and questioning until Eddie moves his hand closer and then Steve’s linking their pinkies and it’s like fireworks are going off beneath his skin or something.

And then there are the trips to Family Video. At this point, it’s become an unspoken ritual that while Steve will drop off Robin at school in the morning on his way to his shift, Eddie will drive her to Family Video after school so she doesn’t have to trek all those miles on foot. And since Eddie has time before band practice at Jeff’s he’ll hang around and chat with Robin and Steve, occasionally buy some of the candy that’s about to go off, maybe peruse the titles and see if there’s anything good worth watching on the weekend that Wayne might like. But he almost always ends up at the counter with Steve, the two of them leaning their forearms on the counter, heads bent together and pinkies just barely overlapping as Eddie manages to pull a genuine laugh out of Steve or Steve’ll say something that has Eddie’s dimples on full display and Robin will watch all of this with a knowing look that Eddie tries not to read too much into, thank you very much.

There’s been a lot of positive progress on the Rock Steve Harrington’s Platonic World front. He doesn’t stiffen as much with sudden movements from his friends, almost seeming to lean into their touches now, scrubbing his hand through Dustin’s curls or high-fiving El for a particularly well-worded burn or bumping his hip with Max’s as he passes by. With Robin it’s even easier, sneaking up behind her and tickling her ribs only to laugh as she slaps his bicep in reprimand, or being the one to pat a spot beside him on whatever couch/bench/counter he’s sitting on and knocking his foot with hers with a smile.

And then of course there’s whatever he and Eddie have going on. Which is fine. Eddie likes it. Likes that Steve is starting to instigate touches between them now, that he feels comfortable enough in Eddie’s presence to let loose.

Right now, they’re chatting about movie options for this weekend’s movie night at the Byers-Hopper residence. It was sort of a no-brainer to everyone that the Byers would move back after everything that happened. Hopper was reinstated as Chief of Police, Joyce got her old job back at the hardware store, happy to see all the moms and pop shops fully up and running, bright with business once more. Johnathan finally got his acceptance letter and he and Nancy are already talking about sharing an apartment close to campus. The school’s been a little lenient with Will and El, what with them suddenly rejoining so close to the end of the semester and they’re making it work, Max and the others catching them up on what they might have missed and helping them prep for their finals. And what with finals just around the corner, the kiddos decided one last movie night was in order before they were totally bogged down during study week by algebra and bio and what have you. Joyce and Hopper had finally deemed their new home presentable for guests and kindly offered to host. Eddie, Steve and Robin were given the task of choosing an age-appropriate film for them and the kiddos to watch and really what could be more perfect for their rumbunctious group of nosy kids than The Goonies?

Eddie’s already got it rented out and put to the side, but he’s still stuck in a playful argument with Steve about what is the best dance film of all time.

“Dude, it’s not even a question, Rocky Horror Picture Show!”

“But Footloose has such good music man!” Steve argues. “Actual recognizable music which you can move to!”

Eddie gasps, clasping his chest like he’s just been shot. “How DARE you! The Rocky Horror Picture Show is a cinematic masterpiece! It’s an entire experience! Not just something you can tap your toes to. Robin, tell him!”

“It’s true,” Robin agrees without hesitance, Steve shooting her a betrayed look while Eddie flashes a smug grin.

“Well, it’s not my fault neither of you will let me come with whenever you go see it!” Steve points out. Which, okay, yes is true. It’s just that while Steve knows Eddie’s cool in regards to Robin being the beautiful, brilliant, awkward little lesbian that she is, Eddie hasn’t had the nerve to come out to Steve yet. Sure, he’s been dropping hints, testing the waters, but despite Robin’s assurances that Steve would be one hundred per cent supportive he just can’t seem to shake the fear that’s been instilled in him for years. And while Eddie is more than happy to share best friend status with Steve and Robin, Rocky is just one of those things that unless you’re in the know it might be disregarded. And neither Eddie nor Robin is willing to risk it.

“You just… wouldn’t get it,” Robin says, patting Steve apologetically on the shoulder.

Knowing there’s no point in arguing, Steve merely rolls his eyes, thankfully dropping the argument.

“Whatever. I still think Footloose is at least in the top five.” He looks to Eddie then, trying to reach a middle ground, only Eddie’s distracted.

It’s just… There’s this strand of hair that’s fallen into Steve’s eyes, coming loose from the perfectly tousled coif he always styles it into, and Eddie’s fingers are itching to fix it for him even though he knows it’ll probably cross a line. Holding hands is one thing but fixing another guy’s hair—and not just any other guy but Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington’s hair—is just asking for trouble.

But Steve’s giving him that damn smile. The soft one that he reserves only for their little ragtag group when he’s feeling extra fond. And something must not compute or short circuit or something in Eddie’s brain because the next thing he knows he’s reaching up and tucking the strand behind Steve’s ear, his fingers lingering for a second there, long enough to feel heat blossom beneath them at the tips of Steve’s ears, before pulling away.

Steve’s smile has dropped, his eyes wide and oh shit. Oh fuck. You’ve done it, Munson. You’ve fucked up big time.

“Sorry, just. Figured it might bug you,” Eddie mumbles in excuse, trying to subtly pull his hand away from Steve’s, to give him space.

Only Steve blinks back into reality and then he’s knitting his fingers with Eddie’s, his grip tight and eyes even wider as he stammers out, “Oh, uh. Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome?” Eddie replies, unable to help to phrase it like a question because is this really happening right now?

His eyes dart to Robin where she’s stood behind Steve, her eyebrows wiggling with that knowing look again and that’s probably Eddie’s cue. Though he can’t resist giving Steve’s fingers one last little parting squeeze before pulling away, The Goonies in hand as he offers a salute and a “See ya,” that’s only partially shaky.

Yeah. Real smooth, Munson. Real smooth.

There’s no Hellfire tonight, what with finals officially starting on Monday. His next sale appointment is only tomorrow morning, there usually being an influx just before exams, and Eddie had every mind to head straight home and sneak in a power nap before attempting to study some more for his English final next Tuesday. However, when he exits the school building, car keys swinging around his finger as he whistles the tune of his band’s latest cover, it’s to find Will Byers of all people hovering at the doors.

“Hey little dude,” he greets, thinking Will is probably waiting for El and the others before they all head home. But the kid is clutching his art folder like it’s a lifeline, his weight shifting nervously from foot to foot. Eddie stops in his tracks, the keys slowing their circles until they hang limply between his fingers.

“Everything okay?”

“I… Uh… That is, um. I wanted to ask…” Will tapers off, his eyes darting nervously around to the other students lingering outside the school.

Eddie doesn’t think twice about placing a hand on Will’s shoulder and guiding him towards his van, ignoring the few stink eyes he gets. They probably think he’s off to corrupt another innocent child to join his non-existent cult or some shit.

Just one more week. Just one more week and I’m out of here.

It’s only once they’re tucked into their seats, the doors firmly closed and blocking out any of the surrounding noise that Will relaxes, albeit minutely.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie asks again.

He hasn’t known Will as long as the others, knows more about him through stories Dustin and the others had revealed in snatches during lunch breaks and in-between campaigns. But being friends with Steve Harrington means you are friends with all the rugrats he babysits too, not that Eddie minds in the least. Dustin and the others are some good kids, annoying as shit at times and too nosy for their own good, but still good kids all the same.

Besides El, Will is probably the quietest of the lot. He isn’t afraid to speak his mind when it’s something he feels strongly about, and don’t get Eddie started on how brilliant and confident Will can be during campaigns. But outside of Hellfire and his close-knit group of friends, Will is reduced to a wilting wallflower.

There’s always been an awkwardness to him, in the way he holds himself like he’s uncertain how to carry all the extra height he’s gained in the last year. His voice is deeper than all the other boys’ too, and yet he’s always soft-spoken like his volume level is forever fixed below the red line. There are miles of potential there, Eddie can see it, and so can the rest of Will’s friends. It’s Will himself that doesn’t seem convinced. Though really, who can blame the kid? Growing up is hard enough as it is, let alone adding the extra layer of distress Will’s been through on top of all that. Eddie can only imagine what all goes on inside that head of his.

So he waits, giving Will time to gather his strength and steady his breathing before he speaks.

“How do you do it?”

And that’s… honestly not what Eddie was expecting. Like. At all.

“Do what?”

Will’s eyes dart to the dashboard, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze as he says, “Be yourself? Without… Without caring what other people think.”

Ah. There it is.

“Well, dude, I gotta admit. All of this,” Eddie gestures to himself, his Black Sabbath tee and the chains and the ripped jeans, “It took me a while to really cultivate this look. To find what felt right. But the only reason I found all of this is because I was willing to try and step out of my comfort zone.”

Will frowns, head tilting slightly like a bird’s in question.

Seems Eddie’s gonna have to spell it out for him.

“Which means not letting your mom do your clothes shopping for you. Or cut your hair with a bowl and some scissors.”

Will’s fingers dance up to his hair, his frown deepening.

“Nothing against Joyce, she’s awesome!” Eddie’s quick to add. “But I think you and I both know that this,” he gestures up and down Will’s form. “Isn’t really you. At least, not anymore.”

Will glances down at himself as if he’s registering the layered flannel and shirt tucked into too-tight pants combo for the very first time.

“I mean… I guess you’re right.”

Eddie nods, gesturing as if to say

“But how do I find it?” Will asks, chewing nervously on his lip. “The real me?”

Eddie hums thoughtfully, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he looks Will up and down. He’s already got a game plan forming, a slow smile creeping up his lips. Decision made, he snaps his fingers and says, “First, we’re going to the thrift store for some new clothes. And then we’re getting you a haircut. Sound good?”

And for the first time since they started this whole conversation, Will breaks into a smile. It’s small and a little hesitant but Eddie doesn’t miss the little zing of anticipation fluttering past his expression.

“Yeah. Sounds great.”

“Then what the hell are we waiting for? Onwards!” Eddie crows, kicking his engine into gear and raising a triumphant fist in the air as they pull out of the school parking lot, Will’s smile broadening every mile they drive.

A couple of hours later, Will’s arms laden with shopping bags and that atrocious bowl cut finally dealt with, they pull up outside the Byers-Hopper residence. Eddie cuts the engine, turning in his seat to face Will. He’s already starting to hold himself a little differently with the new hairdo and honestly, Eddie can’t wait to see how he looks with it all styled with the new outfits they found.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow for movie night?” Eddie says.

Will nods, his gaze fixed out the window though it kind of looks like he’s lost in the middle distance a bit. And for a second, Eddie worries that he’s back, that Will’s eyes are gonna roll into the back of his head and and and—but then Will blinks and he’s looking at Eddie with this frightened, deer in the headlights look in his eyes.

“Hey,” Eddie starts, “if your mom gets upset about the hair, you have total permission to blame me, no hard feelings.”

“It’s not that,” Will murmurs.

Eddie’s fingers tap at his knee, his rings glinting in the late afternoon light pooling through the windows.

“Then what’s eating at you, Will?”

“I spoke to Robin,” Will blurts.

“Okay… About?”

Will falters, eyes searching Eddie’s expression as he stutters out, “About, um, being… different.”

And it’s the way he says it, with this little tilt to his head and slight eyebrow raise like he’s begging Eddie to understand what he’s getting at and oh. Oh.

Honestly, Eddie had his suspicions. But he hates the whole ‘judge a book by its cover’ concept so he’d never asked, had never tried to dig deeper to see if he was right. He figured Will would find who he needed to talk to about this when the time was right. His mom or his brother or hell, Robin even. He just never thought that he would be on that list.

And now that the dam’s been broken it’s like Will can’t turn it off, his words bubbling up and his hands gesturing in these short sharp movements while he speaks. “Like, we had this really nice conversation about it but while we’re both… different we’re not exactly different in the same way necessarily. And she said that you’d be able to help. That you’d understand.”

“Just to be clear,” Eddie says, treading carefully with his words, “this… being different. Has it maybe got something to do with how you feel towards certain… people? Romantically I mean?”

Will nods, his lips pinched tightly together in a thin white line.

“Okay, just making sure,” Eddie murmurs. He sighs, his hands scrubbing through his curls as he tries to choose his next words carefully. “Robin’s right. I am… different. Like you.”

“When did you know?”

A startled laugh rips through Eddie’s throat, head shaking. “I was about your age actually. Everyone was going all ga-ga about dating, boys doing that stupid locker room talk of who they’d like to take out and shit. And I didn’t get it because I didn’t… I didn’t feel what they felt. At least…” he clears his throat here, side-eyeing Will hesitantly. “Not about girls.”

He watches as instantly Will’s shoulders slump, his whole body loosening up as he slides down the seat, clutching his backpack to his chest like it’s a lifeline.

“I really thought I was the only one.”

“Yeah. That’s a pretty common thread for us,” Eddie jokes, feeling some of his own tension loosening now that Will isn’t so wound up.

“Did you ever—” Will starts only to clamp his lips shut.

“It’s okay. You can ask,” Eddie assures him quietly.

“Have you ever… liked a friend? Even though you know it’s like, probably impossible for you two to be together in that way and he’ll never really look at you the way you want him to, but you just keep hoping that one day he’ll just get it. Like… he’ll finally see what’s been in front of him the entire time. Have you ever… experienced that?”

Eddie sucks in a deep breath, trying to quell the little shake in his breath because of course he fucking knows who Will’s referring to. Just like he fucking knows that Will knows that it’s a lost cause and yet he keeps hoping anyway.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie whispers. “It’s… It’s not fair when it happens. When you care for someone so much, but you know they’ll never be able to feel the same way. It makes you wonder if it’s worth sticking it out. To try to find other people who can care like you. Love like you.” Another breath. Another shared look that far exceeds meagre words.

Eddie shifts so he’s fully facing Will, legs crossed on his seat so he can lean in, keep his voice low and soft and what he hopes is assuring.

“It’s always hard. Letting go of the first one. But it’s also necessary. For your heart and sanity’s sake. And I know that’s easier said than done, dude. Trust me. I know. But please also trust me when I say that you’re gonna feel so much better about yourself if you do.”

Will’s tearing up at this point and honestly, so is Eddie. His father had tried to beat the bleating heart out of him, but he never succeeded. Not really. Never for long.

Reaching across the console, Eddie gently grips Will’s shoulders, looking him dead in the eye as he says, “Let this be the first step, okay? To being you. The real you. Without tying yourself to someone who can’t give you what you want.”

“Can I… Can I still be his friend?” Will rasps.

Eddie nods. “Yeah. It just… It might be a little difficult at first. And there’s nothing wrong with putting some distance between you if gets too much. But eventually, you’ll be able to look at him and your heart might still flutter, but it’ll be for what remains. Friendship.”

Will nods, sniffling as he wipes at his tear-stained cheeks.

“And screw anyone who says that friendships aren’t as important or special as a romantic relationship,” Eddie adds, wanting to make sure Will understands. That he knows there’s more than one kind of love out there. “You can still be close to people without having to put your heart totally on the line, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Will says, “I think… I think I’m starting to realize that now.”

“Good. That’s good,” Eddie assures him, offering a wobbly smile and a fist bump which Will happily returns, the little explosive sounds they make as they blow it up soft but still there.

Gathering his things, Will slips out the door. He’s just about to close it when Eddie adds, “If you ever need to chat. Or vent. Or ask anything. Literally, anything—”

“I know where to find you,” Will finishes for him, his smile tremulous but also hopeful. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Anytime, Will the Wise.”

Eddie sits and watches as Will walks up the drive and he may just be seeing what he wants to see but he thinks Will’s steps look a little lighter, his shoulders a little straighter. Like at least one storm cloud has fucked off, letting in just enough sunshine to keep him going.

It’s with that thought that Eddie backs out of the drive smiling even as whispers of friendships and doomed love flutter nearby.

The Byers-Hopper residence is, in a word, cosy. You can feel the love that’s gone into every little selection from the throw pillows and blankets on the couches to the extra-large dining table with the cushioned seats that fits their entire ragtag group and then some. It’s got a spacious garden with a grill which Hopper is currently using to fry up some burger patties.

Eddie and Max are surprisingly the first to arrive, Joyce ushering them in with a welcoming smile and big hugs. Out of all the parents, Joyce is the most relaxed around Eddie. Maybe it helps that during the whole framed-for-murder thing she was busy being a badass in Russia, but all the same, it’s easy being around her. Like she’s that cool aunt who you can always turn to in times of need.

Max instantly makes a beeline for El, nearly bumping her wrist brace in her rush to get to her friend. Vecna had managed to break Max’s right arm and seriously splinter the rest of her bones but El had done whatever it was she did in time to ensure that the damage wasn’t worse. Max’s cast is blue, covered in doodles from the rest of The Party and even a gnarly-looking skateboard courtesy of Eddie.

He watches now as the girls come together like magnets or planets colliding or whatever other deep and emphatic metaphor you can think of. Whatever the case, their friendship runs deep and true, just like Sam and Frodo.

Eddie’s just about to offer to help Joyce in the kitchen when the doorbell rings. There’s the sound of thudding footsteps and then a Will-shaped blur is gunning for the door.

“I’ll get it!”

And Eddie can’t miss this. He just can’t. So he trails a bit behind, hovering in the archway between the foyer and the lounge and watches with absolute glee as everyone loses their shit over Will’s new look.

Gone is the bowl cut, instead replaced with a more cropped cut around the sides with length on top that’s been styled to create a sort of effortlessly tousled look, like he’s just run his fingers through the strands and they happened to just fall oh-so-perfectly. A deep dive into Eddie’s favourite thrift store has unveiled some rather classic pieces—slim-fit T-shirts, fitted trousers, patterned shirts with character, even a pair of well-worn Docs with plenty of life still left in them. Today, Will’s got a sort of James Dean look going for him, a white Tee with the sleeves rolled up tucked into some dark slim-fitting chinos that accentuate his long legs. Though he’s added his own twist with a pinstriped waistcoat thrown on top—something Robin would highly approve of no doubt knowing her proclivity towards the more dapper look.

Although Will doesn’t carry Dean’s swagger—he’s really too polite for that—the look seems to give him the bit of confidence he’s been needing. His shoulders aren’t as slumped, his chin held high rather than tucked low, and there’s just this glow about him, man. It suits him.

“What the actual fuck!” Dustin exclaims, eyes roaming up and down Will’s form. Steve claps him upside the head almost on instinct, his eyes never leaving Will even as he reprimands, “Language! Jesus, Henderson.”

“Do you… Do you not like it?” Will asks, his eyes darting between all his friends' still gob-smacked expressions.

Lucas, bless him, is the first to speak up, assuring him, “I like it! I was just surprised. I mean… it’s just really sudden. But you look good, Will!”

Eddie can’t help the little burst of pride at that, Will beaming so bright it’s almost hard to look at.

“Thanks, Lucas.”

The others are quick to follow with their compliments, even Erica offering a nod of approval. The only one who hasn’t said anything is…

“Mike?” Will questions. “You okay?”

Mike looks like he stopped breathing actually which is only slightly worrying but Steve’s quick to give him a jumpstart slap on the back, pointedly looking between him and Will.

“Yeah. Yeah! I just… Didn’t recognize you.”

Will shrugs, scuffing his socked foot on the hardwood floor. “I dunno. I kinda really feel like me for the first time in a long time. Ya know?”

Mike nods absently, eyes still the size of dinner plates.

Steve, apparently, has had enough chitchat and is quick to corral the kiddos through the door, an amused Robin trailing behind him. Eddie offers high fives and fist bumps as the kids pass him on their way to the living room where the others are hanging out. Nancy offers him a warm smile before making her way to Johnathan’s side. The two really do make a sickeningly sweet couple when together.

Steve’s hand finds Eddie’s as he passes, lingering just slightly as he says, “Hey, man,” before joining the rest of the party.

“I see Will finally spoke to you,” Robin says, leaning up in the doorway with Eddie, the both of them watching an excited Will talk to Dustin, his gestures to his hair leading Eddie to guess they’re exchanging hair routines.

“Yeah. Thanks for the warning, by the way,” Eddie grumbles, though there’s no actual heat as he knocks his shoulder with Robin’s.

“I wanted him to come to you in his own time. If I told you beforehand you would have approached him first rather than letting him come to you.”

And Eddie would argue except Robin is absolutely correct. So, he simply shrugs, playfully ruffling her hair and escaping into the kitchen with a manic giggle before she can retaliate.

Joyce leaves Eddie in charge of buttering buns while she takes the next round of patties in need of grilling outside. Having four teenage boys to feed plus the rest of their party means there’s going to be a mountain of burgers available and even then, knowing Dustin and the others, it still might not be enough.

Eddie’s busy buttering his fifth bun when he reaches his countdown under his breath and like clockwork, Steve ambles his way into the kitchen and doesn’t even ask before starting to help with food prep. Call it muscle memory from all the times Steve’s hosted the kids at his place or simply motherly instincts, but despite his complaining, Steve is always itching to help out even when he is technically also a guest. A small part of Eddie thinks it’s maybe just part of his nature, being as caring as he is.

“Robin tells me we all have you to thank for Will’s new look?”

“You sound surprised, Harrington,” Eddie accuses jokingly.

“I guess I am a little,” Steve admits, flashing him a cheeky grin. “Considering that bird’s nest you call hair.”

“Hey! Don’t diss the mane,” Eddie warns, waggling a ringed finger below Steve’s nose, neither of them able to keep a straight face for long as they burst into laughter.

Despite his hands being kept busy, Eddie can’t help risking glances at Steve out of the corner of his eye as they work. Steve’s wearing his usual polo shirt and jean combo which shouldn’t be so distracting except this polo clings to his chest more than usual, hugging his biceps oh so nicely and Eddie really needs to switch his focus before he goes down a mental pathway he can’t return from.

With burgers devoured and popcorn popped and drizzled with an array of toppings ranging from melted butter to caramel to icing sugar of all things, the gang files into the living room once more, all making themselves right at home spread out amongst the floor and couches.

Steve ends up sandwiched between Robin and Eddie on the main couch. Eddie checks in as has become a habit, asking Steve if he’s okay with the tight squeeze even though they’ve spent plenty of evenings just like this on Steve or Robin’s couch. But Steve still assures him it’s fine, adding a little grateful nod at the end. Robin’s hogging a popcorn bowl all to herself, turned with her feet draped in Steve’s lap, his hands resting easily on her calves and tapping out an unknown rhythm. Dustin’s busy setting up the tape. El is cradled to Max’s chest, Max’s chin hooked over her shoulder where she’s hugging her from behind, the two sitting on a mountain of pillows against the leg of the loveseat Johnathan and Nancy are sharing. Lucas and Erica, despite their constant bickering, are cuddled up together on the rug as siblings do, Lucas reserving a spot for Dustin.

Will is curled up in the armchair, a blanket thrown over his lap. He looks perfectly content to remain there by himself. That is, until Mike hesitantly walks up to him, the bucket of popcorn drenched in icing sugar in hand.

“Do you mind if I squeeze in with you?” he asks shyly.

Will’s eyes widen, his gaze flicking to Eddie in what can only be described as pure panic. Eddie pulls a thumbs up, mouthing, You can do this.

Will’s lips scrunch slightly in thought but then he gives a determined nod and is turning his soft little smile up at Mike.

“Sure,” he replies, scooting over and holding up the blanket to allow Mike to scooch in with him on the chair. It’s a tight squeeze, Mike’s gangly limbs making it a little awkward at first. That is until Will guides Mike’s legs to hook over his lap and suddenly it’s like two puzzle pieces slipping into place.

Well shit, Eddie thinks as he watches Mike and Will snuggle up together like it’s as easy as breathing. Kid’s got game.

“They look good together,” Steve whispers.

“What?” Eddie startles, pulling his attention away from the frankly adorable display of platonic affection happening in the armchair to find Steve looking at him with this knowing tilt to his brows and this soft, proud little smile.

His eyes flick to the armchair then back to Eddie, brow arching up further.

“They look good together, don’t you think?”

“I… I mean. I think Will can do better if I’m being honest.” And is he seriously having this conversation with Steve right now?

Steve hums, face scrunched a little before he slowly nods. “Yeah, I get that. What with Mike and El still being,” he knits his fingers together.

“Worryingly co-dependent on each other?” Eddie suggests, grinning at the little snort it earns from Steve.

“Yeah, that.”

“I think he’ll find his person one day,” Eddie admits quietly. “It’s the least that kid deserves.”

“I think everyone deserves love,” Steve says. Tearing his gaze from Will and Mike and practically punching all the air right out of Eddie’s chest with how candid he’s being right now. With those big, dark, puppy dog eyes that Eddie is finding harder and harder not to sink into. “Don’t you?”

Eddie coughs but clearing his throat does nothing to stop just how strained he sounds when he replies, “Yeah, man. Of course.”

“Will you two shut up?” Erica snaps, glaring at both of them and boy but if looks could kill.

“My deepest apologies, Lady Applejack,” Eddie whispers, bowing as best he can while seated.

Erica merely rolls her eyes, grumbling something that sounds suspiciously like dumbass under her breath as she turns back to the screen.

Steve pretends to zip his lips and chuck the key over his shoulder, his arms stretching up and over to drape across the back of the couch. It’s so smooth, so natural, that Eddie doesn’t even realize he’s leaning into Steve until his head finds Steve’s shoulder. He stiffens, tries to pull back, but Steve’s arm wraps around Eddie’s shoulders, gently keeping him in place.

Taking the silent permission for what it is, Eddie snuggles in deeper against the couch, his body slotting almost too perfectly next to Steve’s, his shoulder just the right height to not cause his neck to ache. Something pleasant and warm wiggles inside his chest, a faint suggestion of something. But Eddie’s quickly distracted with the movie and the soft vibrations of Steve’s chuckles echoing through him at where they’re pressed together.

He tries not to think too hard about it.

It’s damn hot in his gown and cap, the sun blaring down at them from a clear blue sky, perfectly lighting the outdoor stage that’s been set up, Principle Higgens sweating buckets beneath his tie and blazer as he stands at the podium, trudging through name after name. Robin’s already long since gotten her diploma, Steve’s cheers easily as loud as her father’s as she rolled her eyes at their antics, all fondness and no irritation.

Eddie can feel his leg starting to twitch, his fingers spinning his mother’s ring around and around and around the closer Higgens gets to M.

Robin must have had enough of his fidgeting as she clamps her hand down on his knee. Hard. “Chill out, Munson. They’re gonna call it.”

“But what if they don’t.”

“They will.”

“But what if—”

Eddie feels his chin being pinched and then he’s eye to eye with a very stubborn-looking Robin.

“They. Will,” she says, punctuating each word with a painful poke to his chest. “Repeat after me. They will.”

“They will,” he echoes.

“Hell yeah, they will,” Robin insists, patting his cheek affectionately before letting go.

Eddie’s knee stays still but his fingers keep turning his mother’s ring, needing something to put all his nervous energy towards until finally, finally, Higgens clears his throat and says two words Eddie never thought he’d hear. Not this year, not any year if he’s honest. And yet the words, “Eddie Munson,” leaves his mouth, a diploma held out, waiting for him to come and claim it.

A mild round of applause begins—exhaustion from keeping this up all the way from the names starting with A mixing with the hesitance of the good ol’ town folk of Hawkins who still think he doesn’t deserve to be a free man. Eddie doesn’t even realize he hasn’t moved yet until Robin kicks him in the shin and then Eddie is up and at ‘em, shuffling past Nancy and the rest of the row and making his way to the stage.

He skips up the stairs two at a time, heart thudding because I’m here. I’m doing this. I’m really doing this.

“Mr. Munson,” Higgens grouses, reluctantly handing Eddie his diploma.

Eddie takes it, staring at the roll of paper and its stupid school spirit green ribbon. He never thought he’d be more relieved to hold a piece of paper in his life, yet here he is.

He’s snapped out of thoughts with a sharp whistle, head whipping up to the back row of chairs where, to his delight, the rug rats have all gathered and are holding up a huge painted sign that reads “1986 the year of Eddie Munson!” And standing there right alongside them cheering and clapping his head off is Steve Harrington looking so damn proud you’d think it was one of his own up on this stage receiving a diploma.

But no. No, he’s smiling at Eddie with that sharp glint in his eye and on the count of three he and the rest of the kids hold up their middle fingers in Higgens’ direction.

Grinning from ear to ear, Eddie turns back to a still-grousing Higgens and with a mock bow flips him the bird and runs off the stage feeling like the hero who’s just slain the dragon. He keeps running until he gets all the way to the back row, sharing high fives and noogies and side-hugs with the kiddos and ignoring the stink eyes the surrounding parents are shooting them. And then there’s Steve, all soft-eyed and sweet smiles.

“Congrats man,” he says, voice pitched low to not disturb the continuing ceremony happening in front of them.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Eddie insists, thinking of all those late nights Steve had stayed up with him drilling him about the questions of fate versus free will in Moby Dick, the difference between satire and parody and all the other goop that made up a high school English final.

But Steve shakes his head, stepping in a little closer so he can gently nudge the tip of his tennis shoe with Eddie’s. “Nah man, it was all you. I was just the cheer squad.”

“Would it kill you to just take a compliment, Harrington?” Eddie teases.

“Steve.”

“Hm?”

“I think at this point we can go by a first-name basis, don’t you Eds?” Steve asks, sounding more uncertain the more he talks until he’s ending with a wince like he wishes the ground would just swallow him whole.

“Eds,” Eddie echoes, his lips ticking up in an impish grin. “I like that.”

The wince softens, Steve looking almost hopeful as he asks, “Yeah?”

Eddie nods and then he’s leaning in, arms open, moving slow so Steve can totally back out if he wants to. Only Steve is meeting him halfway after only a second of hesitation, his arms wrapping firmly around Eddie’s waist as he melts into the embrace.

“I’m seriously proud of you, man,” Steve whispers, breath warm where it tickles Eddie’s ear and now that Eddie’s aware of it, he can’t help thinking that. Well. Steve Harrington’s a really good hugger. It feels like a cloud or maybe being wrapped up in a warm blanket. Steve’s arms are strong and firm and yet nothing but gentle, hands large and warm where they’re pressing through his graduation robe into his lower back, his chest solid and so easy to lean into. And don’t get Eddie started on his smell. Blame the mountain of hair products Steve uses on the daily but he’s got this almost sweet scent to him that Eddie can’t really place and oh. Oh no.

Eddie tightens his grip just slightly where his arms are hooked around Steve’s broad shoulders, his nose dipping into the crook of Steve’s neck as he wills his flush away.

This isn’t good. This is really, very, incredibly not good.

He’s attracted to Steve. He’s attracted to his best friend who is also literally infamous for being a ladies' man.

What was the rule again? Don’t fall for straight boys?

Hah. Ha ha. Oh boy. Oh dear.

Fuck.

“Eddie, you okay?” Steve asks, squeezing Eddie’s waist with obvious concern.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, praying Steve won’t catch onto the tremulous quality of his voice, his face burrowing deeper into Steve’s neck like maybe if he keeps going he’ll never have to resurface, never have to deal with the consequences of his realization.

“Couldn’t be better, man. Couldn’t be better…”

It had been arranged well ahead of time that Steve would be hosting a small graduation party for their friend group, the kiddos making use of his pool and using up all the towels so as not to drip water across the hardwood floors. Nancy and Johnathan are there as well, though they mostly keep to themselves, curled up together on the couch, probably talking about paint swatches for their future apartment or what have you. Steve barely sits down, is almost in constant motion as he flits from one problem to the next, getting extra napkins for greasy pizza fingers and finding a spare bottle of pop in the back of the fridge when they start running low. The only time he seems to relax is when Eddie presses a freshly opened beer can into his hands and demands he sit back and take a breather until it’s finished. Steve tries to argue though it’s half-hearted at best, the tense line of his spine melting as he slots in beside Eddie where he’s sitting atop the kitchen counter, their shoulders bumping and pinkie fingers finding one another easily.

It isn’t like the big, over-the-top house parties Steve used to host that Eddie’s heard so much about. It’s quieter, calmer, more intimate. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

With the last of the beer drained and the kids trying to fight back their yawns, Nancy and Johnathan start to corral everyone back to the cars, calling it a night despite the kid’s protests. Eddie’s about to nab his keys, expecting Max and Robin to already be waiting for him at the van when Robin informs him they’ll be catching a lift with Nancy.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Positive,” Robin says, her brows wiggling suggestively as she nods towards where Steve’s disappeared into the kitchen. “Go get ‘em.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie grumbles even as he starts to inch in that exact direction.

Robin simply rolls her eyes and blows him a kiss, the front door clicking shut behind her.

Steve is, you guessed it, slogging through clean-up duty all on his lonesome in the kitchen, elbow deep in soapy water as he makes his way through the pile of dirty dishes.

He must notice Eddie out of the corner of his eye, his head whipping up with a look of surprise.

“What are you still doing here, Eds?”

And that’s. Well. Eddie’s still trying to get used to that. The whole using-your-first-name thing. It still makes Eddie’s ears ring to hear that nickname leave Steve’s lips and no, he refuses to admit that it goes deeper than that. That it means anything else except that he likes the way Steve says his name in a totally and only platonic sense.

“Couldn’t leave you to do all the clean-up, dude,” Eddie says with an easy shrug, nabbing a drying cloth before joining Steve at the sink. He takes the soapy plate from Steve’s hand and starts drying it. “What kind of friend would that make me?”

Steve doesn’t argue further, either too tired after the day’s events or just knowing Eddie well enough that he knows there’s no use in arguing. So he simply passes off the next plate, shows Eddie where the trash bags are kept, where the recycling bin is hidden, until the house is back in order.

“It’s pretty late,” Steve says, glancing at the clock. “Do you wanna stay over?”

“I mean… if that’s okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Steve asks like this isn’t the first time he’s ever offered for Eddie to stay.

So Eddie merely shrugs and just like that he’s following Steve upstairs and into his room where a frankly alarming amount of plaid assaults his eyes upon entrance.

“Jesus, Steve. It’s—”

“A bit much, I know,” Steve sighs. He walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it for PJ options. “Mom refuses to let me decorate. Says it won’t match the atmosphere of the rest of the house or whatever. This okay?” He tosses a thin sweatshirt and some old basketball shorts at him without warning which Eddie at least partially gracefully catches.

The sweatshirt’s similar to the yellow one Steve had worn that day on Lover’s Lake. Eddie would never admit it but he kind have would have liked to borrow that one. Only thoughts of the yellow sweatshirt lead to thoughts of Steve stripping off that sweatshirt, skin glistening in the moonlight as he offers Eddie an over-confident smile before diving off the edge of the boat which then leads to images of him in Eddie’s vest with nothing underneath and if he doesn’t say something soon he might actually explode.

“Whatever happened to my vest, by the way? Do you remember?” Eddie blurts, making himself busy with changing into the clothes Steve offered him. They’ve got their backs to each other, a sort of silent agreement to not look while they change which is probably for the best considering Eddie’s cheeks still feel like they’ve been injected with scarlet fever.

“I still have it.”

Eddie freezes where he’s halfway pulling on the borrowed sweatshirt, whipping round to find an already changed Steve with his eyes ducked firmly to the floor.

Belatedly, Eddie pulls the sweatshirt down the rest of the way, freeing his hair from the neckline with a cough.

“You do?”

Steve nods.

“I kept meaning to give it back to you only…”

“Only?”

“It… You’re gonna laugh at me,” Steve mutters, shaking his head.

“I won’t,” Eddie insists.

Steve gives him a look like he doesn’t believe him for a second, but he tells him anyway.

“I wear it sometimes when… when I can’t sleep. It… helps. For whatever weird reason.”

“It’s not weird,” Eddie assures him quietly even though internally he’s kind of freaking the fuck out because what.

Steve clicks his tongue, hands propped on his hips. “It is though! I should… fuck, I should be able to fall asleep without some safety blanket—”

“Dude, you have gone to literal hell and back more than once. I think you can give yourself a little leeway here,” Eddie chuckles. But Steve isn’t laughing, is still refusing to meet Eddie’s eyes, fingers bunching in the hem of his sleep shirt.

“I get it, ya know,” Eddie admits, voice far quieter, all teasing lilt gone. “Sleeping in the trailer it’s… it’s difficult. Some nights I wake up in cold sweats. Other times I can’t sleep at all. I just… no matter how hard I try I can’t get those images out of my head, man.” Chrissy plastered to his ceiling. All broken and bent and—

“I get it,” he repeats, one arm hugging his chest, propping the other as he rubs at his jaw, trying to keep his trembling to a minimum. “Sometimes it helps just… feeling like someone’s got your back. Like it’s safe enough to let your guard down.”

“Yeah. Yeah exactly,” Steve murmurs, eyes bright like Eddie’s said something monumental.

Eddie knows he makes light of Steve’s supposed lack of an IQ, that he’s all pretty face and big hair and no thoughts. But if these last two months with Steve have taught him anything it’s that there are chasms upon chasms of depth hidden within this man, filled with light and compassion so huge it’s overwhelming at times. And despite all this light that’s just begging to break through the seams, years of being considered nothing more than the pretty boy King of Hawkins High has left Steve without the words to truly express all that he feels. Because to try and talk about anything that wasn’t part of the popularity contest’s list of insipid topics was considered social suicide. And it’s been drilled into Steve’s head by his shitty father and shitty so-called friends that image is everything. That it’s the only thing. And despite how far he’s come. Despite how deep he’s digging into that well of light, he still struggles more often than not to let it shine. To put all those complex thoughts and feelings into words. So if Eddie’s provided any kind of comfort, even if it’s just putting into words the feelings of insecurity and vulnerability they both seem to share now post-Vecna, he’ll take that win.

“I still struggle to fall asleep most nights,” Eddie admits quietly, his thumb rubbing at his eyebrow, arm still hugging his ribs like he can try and keep himself from shaking apart. “Being alone in there, it’s… difficult.”

Steve’s shoulders hunch, arms wrapped tightly around his own waist as his eyes dart to the window. The curtains are drawn tightly shut, only the barest hint of blue light leaking beneath the edges. “That’s me with my pool.”

Eddie doesn’t have to ask. He knows, has connected the dots, knows that Barb’s death was the beginning of it all.

Steve tears his gaze from his curtains, giving a visible shiver. “Look, I know it's very ‘seventh-grade sleepover’ and there’s a perfectly good guest bedroom across the hall but uh… would you like to stay in here? Tonight. With me.”

Eddie could make a joke, probably should make a joke right about now. About Steve’s ploys to get him into bed or embracing their inner seventh graders or something.

But instead, Eddie remains nothing but genuine when he says, “Yeah. I would.”

The tension lining Steve’s shoulders melts, his smile small but thankful. “Okay. Um… are you particular about which side you sleep on or—”

After a brief discussion of who will take which side, they’re sliding under the covers. Steve switches off the bedside lamp while Eddie gives his pillow a quick punch before flopping down unceremoniously. They’re both on their backs, a little stiff. Eddie taps a made-up rhythm on his stomach, blowing a raspberry.

“You know, I think the last time I had a sleepover really was when I was in the seventh grade.”

Steve snorts, some of the tension lifting. He shifts so he’s lying on his side facing Eddie, hands tucked beneath his pillow, his perfectly coiffed hair slightly rumpled. “I used to host a lot of parties here in high school. People stayed over whether I wanted them to or not.”

Eddie huffs a laugh but sees the slight strain in Steve’s smile.

“I didn’t mind, really. At least then the house didn’t feel so empty.” They’re both silent with the weight of what’s left unsaid. About absent parents and forgotten sons. But Steve’s quick to steamroll on, his fingers plucking at a loose thread in the sheets. “I’ve been saving up ever since Scoops Ahoy. To try and get my own place. I’m actually pretty close to reaching what I’ll need for a down payment. But, ya know. Family Video’s no goldmine so it’s… taking a while.”

“Do your parents—?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not using any of their money, so it's none of their business what I do with mine.”

“Well, when you do get some sweet digs all to yourself, let me know if you need help moving.” Eddie grins, striking a dramatic pose as he flexes his bicep. “I know I don’t look it but I’m pretty strong.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve replies and something in his tone tells Eddie he doesn’t mean just physical strength.

Eddie snuggles under the covers, his knees knocking Steve’s lightly as he shifts to get more comfortable.

“You sure this is fine?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I wasn’t.”

“Okay. Cool. Cool cool cool…”

Neither of them says anything for a while. They’re still turned to each other, Steve’s face just barely visible in what little light permeates the room. Eddie shifts again, never one for sitting still long, even when trying to sleep. His foot ends up knocking Steve’s shin, apology already on the tip of his tongue when Steve just chuckles and shifts even closer, his hand finding Eddie’s where it lays between them on the mattress.

“Try to get some sleep, Eds,” he murmurs, sleepiness tinging the edges of his words.

“Same to you… Stevie.”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh, lashes fluttering closed. “I like that.”

And quicker than what’s been possible in months, Eddie finds his eyes sealing shut of their own accord, sleep quick and silent as it steals him away into the night.

The sleepovers become a regular thing after that night.

Eddie and Steve had both agreed the next morning that it was probably the best night’s sleep either of them has had in a long, long time. It didn’t take much effort for them to put two and two together. That sleeping with someone at their side, someone they could trust, who knew why they needed the extra layer of protection in the first place made it easier.

The sleepovers are never planned. They sort of just happen. Steve ends up staying late at Eddie’s trailer watching a movie or Eddie ends up joining Steve for dinner at his place because he made too much chicken a la king that, “Really, it’ll just go to waste otherwise, Eds.” Whatever the case, however flimsy the excuse, Eddie and Steve silently agree not to state the obvious.

It’s so easy, to fall into this new routine. Of meals shared and movies watched and digging out clothes for the other to sleep in. Of swapping secrets and holding hands beneath the covers. Just like it starts to become routine, if one of them wakes from a nightmare, the other will be there to talk them down. To assure them that yes, everyone made it out. Yes, they’re all safe. Vecna’s gone. The gate is closed. We’re safe, we’re safe, we’re safe.

The spooning sort of happens naturally, if sadly because of one of these nightmares.

It’s Steve’s turn to be haunted. He wakes Eddie up accidentally, jumbled pleas that he works for Scoops and that he can’t breathe ripped from his throat, his body flinching as invisible fists do their damage. He starts thrashing so much that Eddie has to pin him down, arms wrapped tightly around Steve’s torso, his legs threaded through Steve’s to keep them weighed down, trying to get him to stop before he hurts himself.

“You’re okay, Steve. You’re okay,” Eddie repeats over and over, a desperate mantra that, when Steve does manage to drag himself into consciousness, had helped him finally believe that he was safe, that he wasn’t at Starcourt, that Eddie wasn’t here to hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, over and over, a big woosh of shaky air leaking past his lips as he presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. His back is to Eddie, his shoulder hiked up in shame, shaking, shaking, shaking.

“It’s okay,” Eddie assures him, still holding on though more loosely at this point, just in case Steve starts up again. He’s still trembling but otherwise, the worst seems to be over. He starts to pull back, thinking Steve will want his space, but firm hands clamp on Eddie’s forearms, keeping him where he is.

“Can we… can we stay like this?” Steve whispers, sounding almost too afraid to ask.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can,” Eddie agrees, pushing back the warm flutters that threaten to creep up his throat and invade his ribcage at the idea of cuddling with Steve. This isn’t the time nor the place, Munson.

He stays very still as Steve makes himself more comfortable. He shifts so his back is pressed to Eddie’s chest, his forearms overlapping with Eddie’s where they’re still wrapped around his stomach, holding on tight. Like he’s scared if he lets go that Eddie might fade away into the shadows. His knees are tucked up so high, that it’s like he’s trying to contort his body into the smallest ball possible. Like he’s trying to protect his soft underbelly where it’s easiest to hurt. Eddie moves incrementally, watching for any signs of discomfort as he wraps himself around Steve, his knees tucking in behind Steve’s, his nose brushing the soft nape of his neck. Steve breathes something close to a sigh of relief, though it’s shaky as hell. His fingers tangle with Eddie’s, body curling even closer as he whispers, “Thank you.”

They fall asleep like that and wake in almost the exact same position. It happens more than once, on the really bad nights where words alone aren’t enough to bring comfort. And every morning they don’t say anything about it. About the gentle curl of their bodies towards one another, the gravitational pull that keeps getting stronger every time. About the intimate tangle of limbs, of heads on chests and soft breaths on vulnerable skin.

Instead, Eddie gets to marvel at how terrible of a morning person Steve is. How adorable he looks all sleep rumpled with his hair a mess of wayward cowlicks and Eddie’s purposefully oversized shirt drooping off one shoulder. Learns how Steve likes his tea, his coffee, his hot cocoa. That he can’t stand runny egg yolk and that he puts apricot jam and strips of bacon on his toast like a heathen. Just like how Steve learns that Eddie’s a morning person even though he desperately wishes he wasn’t, that he puts three sugars in his tea and overloads his coffee with cream. Just like how he learns Eddie secretly likes Steve’s colourful array of sweatshirts and will find any excuse to borrow one whenever he stays over.

Slowly, carefully, they bare the most intimate and well-cultivated secrets of their most horrible habits and little idiosyncrasies. Their quirks and their charms and their weaknesses are all stored away, made shared knowledge they know won’t ever leave this sacred little safe space they’ve carved with one another.

And during all of this, Eddie keeps himself in check. Tells himself that this is enough. That being Steve’s friend is already more he could have asked for. But there’s still that horrible little voice in his head. The greedy one with the hungry hands and bleeding heart. The one that tells him he could have more if he just gave it a shot, that they could have it all.

He’s gotten pretty good at silencing that little shit with a metaphorical pillow smothering his smug, knowing face.

This time around, they’re at Eddie’s, hanging out in his room. The sun’s long since set, empty pizza boxes thrown in the trash and shoes kicked aside. At some point they moved from the lounge to Eddie’s room, Eddie’s guitar finding her way in his arms while Steve plucks a random comic from the unorganized collection on Eddie’s shelf to read. They slot together on Eddie’s bed like jigsaw pieces. Steve laid out on his side, chin propped on his fist as he peruses his comic while Eddie sits back against the headboard, long legs stretched out in front of him and lazily crossed at the ankles while he plucks at the strings of his guitar.

Wayne’s at work, the moon is high and Eddie has had this damn tune stuck in his brain the entire day and is desperate to get it written out on paper. Not everyone who plays an instrument can compose and while Eddie doesn’t consider himself anything of a Kurt Cobain or John Sykes, he knows enough that when his words aren’t working and that nervous energy refuses to leave him the fuck alone, he can crank out a half-decent tune or a melody or even a whole ass song if he’s worked up enough. He’d been worried that his artistic process would drive Steve up the wall. He tends to mutter to himself while composing, leg jiggling while he scribbles away in his latest journal and fingers plucking again and again on constant repeat until he finally found the right chord progression. Write it down, rinse, repeat.

He thought it would get on Steve’s nerves enough to send him back to the living room, or hell, for him to call it a night and head home.

But no. Steve looks right at home here. With his mismatched socks and the sleeves of his sweatshirt pushed up his forearms and that damn curl of hair that keeps falling in front of his eyes, taunting Eddie to do something about it. Steve’s eyes are totally focused on the comic book he’s reading, but his head is nodding along to the tune Eddie’s strumming, his lips silently mouthing the dialogue from the speech bubbles he’s reading.

It’s terribly endearing and extremely distracting and horde-of-butterflies-in-your-stomach inducing and Eddie really needs to stop staring before even oblivious Steve starts to notice. He manages to wrench his attention back to his guitar just as Steve looks up with an arched brow. He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, boring into his side like a freaking lightsaber poking at him it’s so damn hot.

“When did you get your first tattoo?”

Eddie’s fingers pause halfway through a riff, his eyes meeting Steve’s inquisitive gaze. He blows a raspberry, slumping further back against his headboard as he thinks back.

“I think I was… sixteen?” He shifts, showing off his right forearm, “I got the bats first. They’re a little ironic now, though, huh?”

“Does it hurt?” Steve asks. The comic’s been all but forgotten, pushed to the side. So Eddie deposits his guitar as well, wrapping the leather chord around his journal and dumping it on his bedside table.

“It depends on where you get it. And your threshold for pain.”

Steve is quiet for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in that way when he gets a little lost in his own head. Must he figure it out, though, because he gives this determined little nod before shifting closer to Eddie, hesitant fingers reaching out to trace the bats on his forearm.

“Did it hurt here?”

“Not so much,” Eddie admits, albeit a little absently because Steve’s fingers are horribly distracting. And by horrible Eddie really means he never wants Steve to let go.

He swallows past the thick lump in his throat which might actually be his heart, gaze fixed firmly on Steve’s face while Steve’s eyes follow his roaming hands, fingers following the lines of ink like walking trails. His fingertips dance up Eddie’s bicep, dipping just beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt.

Eddie represses a shiver, tries not to lean into Steve’s magnetic touch. Despite how far they’ve come in such a short amount of time, it’s still rare for Steve to initiate touches like these. The last thing Eddie wants to do is spook him by asking for too much.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Steve admits. He’s sitting up properly now, legs crossed, fingers playing with the sleeve of Eddie’s well-worn shirt. “About maybe getting some of my scars covered.”

“The…” Eddie starts and Steve’s already nodding, already knowing which ones Eddie’s referring to. His fingers retreat from Eddie’s bicep, taking all their warmth with them as they instead flutter to the scar on Steve’s neck. His fingers trace the scar tissue with an almost pained look on his face.

Girls had tried to romanticize it, talking about Steve being so brave, how it made him look so cool like he didn’t nearly bleed out in another dimension because of it. Only they didn’t know that, could never know the real reason. So Steve would just play off his wince and change the subject, trying to move the attention away from the scar that he considers a burden where others see it as a trophy.

Eddie asks before he touches, just like he always does, waiting for Steve’s short little nod before closing the distance between them. His fingers are feather-light where they cup Steve’s neck, thumb stroking the thin, tapering scar that’s wrapped around Steve’s throat. Steve shivers as Eddie’s fingers catch on the skin.

Eddie knows his hands aren’t the softest, covered in calluses from playing the guitar and helping Wayne around the trailer. Working man’s hands Wayne calls them with pride though Eddie’s always been a little self-conscious about if he’s honest.

His thumb catches on the scar again, Steve sucking in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” Eddie winces, hand pulling back.

But then Steve does the unexpected. He catches Eddie’s hand and drags it back to his neck. He leans into the touch, almost tipping halfway into Eddie’s palm like a cat.

“Don’t. It’s nice.”

“You sure?” Eddie rasps.

Steve nods, his eyes still shut even as he finds Eddie’s other hand and leads it up to his hair. With trembling fingers and breath held, Eddie combs his fingers through some of the wayward strands of Steve’s hair, Steve releasing this soft, pleased little hum and God, but this is dangerous. This is asking—no, begging for trouble. But there’s something in Steve’s little sigh, in the way he’s leaning into Eddie’s touch, almost hungry for it that overrides Eddie’s common sense. And when Steve looks at him from underneath heavy lids, coffee-ground eyes deep and nothing but trustworthy, whatever’s left of Eddie’s self-preservation goes flying out the window.

It's so quiet, their breaths steady and deep as Eddie lets his fingers trail down Steve’s neck, over his collarbones, across his chest until it hooks around his waist, his thumb swiping over where he knows the worst of his scars are hidden beneath his sweatshirt. Steve’s tipping forward, is pressing up on his knees and then Eddie has a lapful of Steve, strong arms encircling Eddie’s shoulders and clinging to him tightly. Steve releases a shuddering breath as Eddie shifts to make them more comfortable, his hands gentle where they hold Steve’s hips.

He can feel Steve’s warmth through his sweatshirt, can feel the firmness of him where his thighs bracket Eddie’s hips, his chest pressed flush to Eddie’s. He wonders if Steve can feel just how hectically his heart is beating, the ever-increasing thump thump thump reaching worrying levels of speed.

Steve’s fingers have wound their way into Eddie’s hair, curling at his nape, fingertips just barely brushing the vulnerable sliver of skin there and sending shivers down Eddie’s spine.

“Is this too much?” Steve whispers.

Eddie shakes his head, arms wrapping tighter around Steve’s waist. They begin to sway a little.

“Nah. You’re good.”

“Okay…” Steve whispers, Eddie not missing the thick layer of relief that comes with that single word.

Eddie slides his hand up and down Steve’s spine, his fingertips feeling out the knobs there, counting them. It had been rather dark on Lover’s Lake, but Eddie had still seen a flash of Steve’s back before he made the dive. Seen the beauty marks that littered his skin like constellations in the sky.

What would it feel like, to trail a pathway between those marks, to create constellations with lazy fingers and smattered kisses?

You’re getting in too deep.

“Steve…” Eddie croaks, wincing at just how choked up he sounds to his own ears.

Steve pulls back just enough to meet Eddie’s eyes, concern furrowing his brows.

“Eds? What is it?”

“I… I haven’t been totally honest with you, man.”

“About?”

Eddie groans, eyes squeezing shut as his forehead bumps against Steve’s sternum.

“About this,” he mumbles, his hands squeezing Steve’s waist in demonstration.

“I don’t understand…”

“Robin, she… she told me about the Russians. About what they did. And I… I’d noticed other things. How jumpy you get, how you try and hide your discomfort from certain touches.”

Eddie’s throat feels raw like it's being scrubbed with a mix of sandpaper and rusted nails. He keeps his gaze averted, unable to meet Steve’s eyes because he knows if he does he won’t be able to get this off his chest.

“So, I’ve been keeping things slow. Trying to ease you into this,” he squeezes Steve’s hips again. “And don’t get me wrong, dude, I’m really happy that you feel so comfortable around me. But…”

“But?” Steve prompts, voice creeping on desperate with how long Eddie’s taking to finish his sentence.

Eddie groans again, shaking his head and gathering what little courage he possesses before blurting, “But I’m realizing that I don’t just want to be your friend and the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable and you’re kinda driving me up in the wall in the best way possible right now but I know that you don’t feel the same so please, please, please don’t hate me for feeling more than I should.”

Steve stiffens, his grip on the back of Eddie’s shirt tightening and fuck but you’ve really done it this time, Munson. Hip-hip-hooray you’ve totally blown your closest friendship right out of the water because you couldn’t keep it in your fucking pants!

Eddie’s so fucking scared of what he’ll see, but the suspense is killing him, and he’d rather just rip off the band-aid than drag this out any longer than he has to. So he looks up, prepared for anger disgust rejection.

What he isn’t prepared for is the biggest, most endearing smile he’s ever seen spreading across Steve’s lips, nor the glassiness of unshed tears swimming in those chocolate-melt eyes.

“You like me?” Steve whispers in awed astonishment.

“I… I think it’s a little more than just like, Steve,” Eddie explains, his words slow, hesitant, because Steve’s still got that smile in place and what is actually happening right now?

A startled laugh bubbles past Steve’s lips and then he’s tackling Eddie with a surprise hug with so much force it sends him sprawling back on the mattress, Steve laughing still as he bumps his forehead with Eddie’s, clinging to him like a koala bear.

“I can’t believe you feel the same,” he whispers, so soft Eddie thinks he almost misheard.

“The… The same?”

Steve pulls back, propped on his elbows and grinning down at Eddie like some literal embodiment of the sun itself.

“In case you haven’t noticed I, like, really like you. As in like like you. A lot.”

Steve frowns as he watches Eddie pinch the skin of his forearm hard enough to almost pierce the skin, brow arching up worriedly as he asks, “What are you doing?”

“Checking I’m not dreaming,” Eddie mumbles, staring up at Steve with wide, wonder-filled eyes because Steve likes him. Steve feels the same. He feels the same and fuck but if Eddie wakes up tomorrow and finds out this really was a dream he’s going to be seriously pissed.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Steve questions. “That I’d like you?”

“I mean, uh, well,” Eddie stammers, hands waving about in aborted gestures. “You’re Steve Harrington, man. I just thought—”

Steve nods, a soft scoff leaving his throat. “Yeah. Local ladies’ man. I get it.”

“So, you… do you still—”

“I mean, I’ve always liked girls,” Steve explains. He shifts, crossing his arms on Eddie’s chest and hooking his chin over them, making himself comfortable and God, Eddie could probably stay like this for the rest of eternity. In this easy bubble of intimacy and comfort. “I didn’t really know you could like both. That it was allowed. But looking back now, I can see where I was mistaking attraction for envy or admiration towards other guys.”

“When did you realize you’re,” Eddie twirls his hand, Steve grinning as he completes the question for Eddie. “Bisexual? A few weeks ago. To be more specific it was probably after that night we went stargazing.”

Eddie’s eyebrows jump past his bangs, mouth gaping. “What?”

Steve nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “Yeah. The next day I was feeling all these things and was all flustered and confused whenever I thought about you. So I went to Robin, because who else would I go to? And I started talking about you. About how sweet you are with the kids, and how I’d really underestimated you before the Upside Down. About how you were giving me space but also weren’t afraid to be affectionate and how much I appreciated that and…” he chuckles, red dotting his cheekbones as he pushes back his bangs. “Long story short, she helped me put some things into perspective.”

“All this time?” Eddie whispers in awe.

Steve nods, fingers dropping from his hair to instead draw nonsense shapes on Eddie’s sternum, the heat of his touch feeling scorching through the thin cotton of his well-worn T-shirt.

“What about you? When did you realize?”

“That I liked you?”

Steve nods.

“Graduation,” Eddie admits. “At least, that’s when it clicked. But I think I’d been avoiding the signs for a while.”

Steve’s trying to bite back this pleased little grin, but it isn’t working. His flush has spread all the way to the tips of his ears at this point.

“So…”

“So.”

“I know that I don’t have much experience, at least with this,” Steve says, gesturing between them. “But, um, I’d still like to try. Be in a relationship. With you. If you want, that is.”

“Oh, I very much want,” Eddie’s quick to assure, his cheeks starting to hurt with how wide his smile is, his dimples digging in so deep even his teeth ache. “I’m just… still trying to assure myself that I’m not dreaming.”

“Maybe I can help?” Steve offers, practically purrs and oh but that is really doing things for Eddie.

“Y-Yeah?” he stammers.

Steve nods, his gaze angling to Eddie’s lips. He’s already pushing up, hands bracketing Eddie’s shoulders as he closes the distance.

Eddie holds his breath, his heart thump-thump-thumping at lightning speed as Steve hovers just barely an inch above him.

“Eddie, can I?”

“Please,” Eddie begs and then warm, chapped lips are enveloping his own. It’s sweet and chaste at first, a soft hum creeping up Eddie’s throat. But then Steve’s angling his head slightly, the tip of his tongue running teasingly along the seam of Eddie’s lips. He opens them without question, the hum turning into a moan as he digs his fingers into Steve’s hair, dragging him closer closer closer.

Steve goes without complaint, body slotting against Eddie’s like they were made to fit together, his lips warm and tongue skilled as he takes Eddie apart and if Eddie doesn’t get the upper hand soon he really can’t be held liable for the puddle of goo Steve will reduce him too. So he plants his feet firmly on the mattress, one arm slung around Steve’s waist and then they’re flipped so Steve is the one being pinned to the mattress, Eddie grinning down at him triumphantly.

“Okay?” he asks, peppering kisses across Steve’s cheek, his jaw, nipping at the soft spot just below the hinge.

“Y-Yeah,” Steve stammers before melting on a sigh, his entire body turning plaint beneath Eddie as he works his way down the column of Steve’s throat, his hand curling into the slight arch of his back. “I’m, ah, just not used to, to…”

Eddie grants him some mercy, pulling his lips away from the blooming mark he’d been teething at to meet Steve’s gaze with a questioning head tilt. Steve swallows thickly, hands a little shaky where they’re still clenched in the back of Eddie’s shirt.

“Being taken care of,” Steve finally murmurs, his grip tightening as he winces at the confession.

And Eddie simply can’t stand for that, not when Steve deserves just that. To be taken care of. To feel special and cared for. So he softens his expression, dials down the teasing in his voice until he’s left with genuine fondness as he states, “Sweetheart, I’m gonna take such good care of you you’ll never want to leave this bed again.”

He can’t help the curl of smug satisfaction that comes to his lips as he watches Steve’s face explode with shades of cherry red and pale rosy pinks, the colour creeping all the way down his neck to disappear beneath his sweatshirt collar.

“I… That…” Steve stammers, squirming a little under Eddie’s intense gaze. “I really like the sound of that.”

Eddie’s grin softens in the corners, his nose gently nuzzling with Steve’s. “Yeah?”

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Just… is just kissing okay for now?”

“Of course. There’s no rush.”

“Okay. Good. Not that I don’t like this,” Steve’s quick to explain, “just. It’s still a lot for me.”

“You don’t need to explain, Steve. I’ll always respect your boundaries.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, expression fond as he tucks a curl behind Eddie’s ear. “I know you will.” And then with a little tug, Eddie’s lips are crashing against Steve’s, heat simmering between them as legs tangle and hands edge beneath hems of shirts.

Steve is incredibly receptive, making the most addictive sounds as Eddie finds what makes him tick. His neck seems especially sensitive, as are his ears which Eddie pays a little extra attention to, teething and sucking on the lobe until Steve is writhing beneath him. But Eddie isn’t the only one exploring. Steve is quick to catch on that Eddie has a thing for hair pulling, just like he notices that his appreciative sounds only rile him up more.

Eddie slows the pace when he can feel the uncomfortable heat starting to collect deep within his belly, fully intending to keep his word. He’s only reassured when he sees the little grateful smile Steve sends him.

Getting ready for bed is all too familiar now, but Eddie can’t deny there’s a spark in the air as he steals glances over his shoulder, spotting the beauty marks sprinkled across Steve’s broad back, the little dimples peeking out just above his waistband. The fact that he can look, that Steve’s looking at him in the same way almost seems too good to be true.

They find each other easily once they’ve slipped under the covers, Steve tucked against Eddie’s chest, fingers tangled where they rest on Steve’s tummy. Eddie noses at Steve’s nape, grinning to himself at the little shiver he earns when he presses a kiss there.

“I really hope I’m not dreaming,” he whispers, curling in a little closer around Steve.

Steve chuckles, his fingers lightly pinching the skin of Eddie’s hand and causing Eddie to yelp.

“Nope,” Steve sings, “Still awake!”

Eddie clicks his tongue, nipping Steve’s ear in reprimand. “You’re gonna be trouble, Steve Harrington. I can just feel it.”

“You like it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs, not even bothering to deny it. “I do.”

“This, us, being together,” Steve starts. “It won’t change much, will it?”

Eddie thinks with a drawn-out hum, his nose drawing a line across Steve’s nape. “I mean, besides the kissing, no. I don’t think so.”

“We’ll have to tell the kids at some point.”

“Yeah. But maybe not right away. I want you for myself a little first,” Eddie teases, giving Steve a quick squeeze.

Steve chuckles, head nodding. “Sounds like a plan. Though I’ll probably have to tell Robin sooner. She’s gonna take one look at this hickey and just know.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of our brilliant Buckley,” Eddie concurs.

Their laughter tapers off, leaving nothing but gentle breaths and a quiet shift of sheets. Eddie’s starting to tumble into sleep, can feel his eyelids growing heavy when Steve whispers, “I know us becoming friends started with some pretty messed up shit going down, but I’m really fucking happy I got to meet you. The real you.”

“Ditto,” Eddie murmurs, punctuating it with a kiss on Steve’s nape. “Try to get some sleep, Stevie.”

“With you here? Piece of cake.”

That brings a smile to Eddie’s lips, one that remains long after he’s fallen asleep.

And when he wakes the next morning, it’s to find him and Steve sharing a pillow, Steve’s gaze soft and sweet and his greeting kiss even sweeter.

“It wasn’t a dream,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

And thank whatever powers may be for that. Because this right here—lying in bed with Steve Harrington wearing one of his shirts, all soft and sleep-rumpled and sprinkled with early morning light—is honestly a dream come true. And as Eddie snuggles in a little closer, stealing another kiss which is more just a press of smiles together, he vows to himself that he’s going to do whatever it takes to keep this dream alive.

Notes:

Yes, there is a sequel in the works. When it'll be posted, I can't say, but it is on the way so stay tuned!
Also for those interested, Will's new hair and look is very much inspired by how Johnny Depp looked in the 1980s
Come chat to me on Tumblr @subtlehysteria if you like!

Archive of Our Own^beta

Actions

Work Header