Chapter Text
Someone grabs Eddie’s thighs, and he flails, arms waving madly as he nearly falls off the stool he was balancing on to tack a Tool poster to the wall. His life doesn’t exactly flash before his eyes, but his stomach drops and his heart leaps into his throat. The poster doesn’t survive the ordeal, though, tearing neatly in half. When he regains his balance, he turns to see big, dark eyes framed by unruly hair staring up at him mischievously.
“Holy shit.” He accepts a small hand—nails bitten, rings on every finger—and steps down to the floor, setting the torn poster aside. “Is this a vision I see before me? Am I hallucinating?” He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again, shaking his head theatrically. “I can’t really be seeing the rockstar formerly known as Gina Mason in my humble little store can I?”
“You dork.” She snorts. “I am happy to say I’m one hundred percent real.” She lets Eddie’s hand go and gives Eddie a crooked, dimpled smile. “Been a while, huh?”
“Yeah,” he says, “too long,” and lets himself be pulled into a fierce hug. Too long is coming up on two years, now, since she left for Los Angeles with her band. It feels like a lifetime.
When they part, she punches him on the arm, grinning wide.
“So,” Eddie says, “what are you doing here?”
“I just moved back.”
“No shit?”
“Not an ounce, my friend.” She grins and slips her hands into the back pockets of her ripped black jeans. “You’re actually one of my first stops.” She looks around. The store isn’t that different from when she left, with the same old display shelves, mostly the same posters lining the walls, the same shitty records stapled to the ceiling (an idea Steve shamelessly borrowed from Pretty in Pink, much to Eddie’s chagrin), but maybe it looks different after being in LA. “The place looks like it’s going well.”
“It is,” Eddie says, not bothering to mask the pride in his voice. “And I’m honored you’d grace Corroded Vinyl with one of your first visits.” He smiles and tips his head toward her conspiratorially. “I always made sure to stock your albums.”
“All two of them, huh?”
“Quality over quantity. And they were good.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Hey, what are friends who own record stores for?”
“About that…” She chews on her lip, face screwing up. “You know, I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch. I meant to, but… You know how it goes.”
Eddie waves her off—it happens—and says, “Hey, you should come over for dinner tonight if you’re not doing anything.”
“Well, that depends…” When Eddie tilts his head in question, she adds, “On if you’re cooking? I just got back, I’d like to enjoy the place a while before I succumb to food poisoning.”
“I am a fucking culinary genius.”
“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far, but I guess you do make a mean spaghetti.”
“I’ll make it for you tonight.”
“Then I’m in.”
“Great.” Eddie claps his hands, rubbing them together. Maybe he’ll get Steve to make dessert. That apple pie he does. Scratch that. He’ll get Steve to pick up some ice-cream. The good stuff. There’s no time for the way Steve makes pie. “And Steve will love seeing you, too.” As soon as Eddie says the words, he regrets them.
It’s not like Eddie forgot. He and Steve were just talking about Gina the other night when he found what was apparently her copy of Pretty Woman. (Eddie still has his doubts about that.) But that was the first time he’d thought about their brief relationship in a long time. It ended well enough, from Eddie’s understanding, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be awkward.
“Steve…” A customer comes in, setting the bell jingling, letting in a brief clip of traffic that cuts through Nine Inch Nails playing on the store stereo. Gina shifts her weight. “So, he’s still around, huh?”
“Yeah. Where else would he be?”
“I don’t know.” She lifts one shoulder. “Married. Maybe a couple of kids.”
“You haven’t been away that long.”
“You never know…” She rubs the back of her head. “Look, about dinner—”
“Is it going to be weird? Because the whole you and Steve thing?”
Before she can answer, the bell above Corroded Vinyl’s door jangles again as Steve comes back from lunch, and, fuck, Eddie’s going to rip that stupid thing off the wall any day now. “Is what going to be weird?” Steve stops in his tracks, blinking a few times, looking between Eddie and Gina.
“Wow,” he says, eventually, “hey.”
Gina smiles. “Hey.”
“Are you—” Steve looks between Gina and Eddie, shaking his head. “What are you doing here?”
“I just moved back.”
“Wow,” Steve repeats, and Eddie can’t tell how he feels. Not even when he adds, “We should…catch up sometime.” He doesn’t sound certain, but he doesn’t sound like he’s only being polite either.
So, Eddie says, “I invited Gina for dinner tonight,” raising his brows at Steve in question.
But Steve just looks surprised for a moment before he says, “Awesome,” and it only sounds a little forced.
“Awesome.” Gina smiles. “I’ve, uh…” She waves her hand. “Got some other shit to do, but I’ll see you both tonight.” She turns and leaves when Steve and Eddie both wish her goodbye and then Eddie turns to Steve.
“Sorry for inviting her without asking.” Things between them have been fine since Eddie relinquished his matchmaking quest—all of a day and a half ago—but still not the same as before. Eddie doesn’t know what one of Steve’s ex’s resurfacing will do, if anything. Hopefully nothing. “It’s not going to be weird for you, is it?”
“It’s fine,” Steve says, and then, brow furrowing, “What happened to the poster?”
Eddie glances over his shoulder. “Just a minor incident,” he says, “nothing to worry about.”
“Right.” Steve’s lips twitch and he turns to make his way to the counter. The customer who came in earlier leaves, letting in another fragment of the outside world before the door closes behind them. “So, what’s for dinner?”
“I’m making my spaghetti.” Eddie follows Steve, leaning on the counter. It feels weird being on this side. “And I thought you could get us some ice-cream?”
“Oh, could I? Why can’t you get it?”
“Because I’ll be slaving over a hot stove, providing sustenance and—”
“Okay, fine, I’ll get the ice-cream.”
“The good stuff.”
“When do I get anything else?”
- -
“Does this need more oregano?” Eddie holds the wooden spoon out when Steve walks into the kitchen, hand cupped beneath it to catch any drips.
Laden with groceries, Steve leans in, mouth open for Eddie to spoon him the sauce. He smacks his lips, tongue sticking out the corner, and says, “Mm, a little,” and sets down the bags. “It’s good though.”
“Thanks.” Pride fizzes in Eddie’s blood, and he turns back to the sauce, adding a little more oregano. And then a little more again for good measure. From the corner of his eye, he sees Steve take the ice-cream from the paper bag, their shoulders brushing as he moves past Eddie to put it in the freezer, and then again when he comes back to deal with the rest of the groceries.
He silently nudges Eddie out of the way to put some garlic bread into the oven, then he grabs some beers, opening them both and handing one to Eddie.
“You wanna go put some music on?” Eddie glances at Steve standing beside him; he’s got his arms crossed, pulling his white t-shirt tight around his biceps, and he looks a little tired, but he nods and pushes away from the counter, wandering into the living room.
As soon as he’s out the door, their buzzer goes off. Eddie turns the sauce down and goes to ring Gina up, telling her the apartment door is open, before he returns to his cooking. A few moments later, the door opens, and Gina calls out, “Hello?” the heavy fall of her boots sounding down the hall.
“Well,” she says, “this is very domestic,” and Eddie turns to find her standing in the doorway.
“If you sass me, you don’t get any spaghetti.”
She holds up a hand and says, “I retract the sassing,” and then holds up her other and says, “I brought beer,” and Eddie nods her over to the fridge. “What’s this?”
Music starts playing in the other room—the opening strains of A Night at the Opera, classic—and Eddie says, “Huh?”
“Are wedding bells on the horizon?”
Eddie freezes, turning to her slowly. She’s pointing at the piece of cardboard, with that pact Steve and Eddie made, her lips tilted in amusement. Fuck. Why haven’t they thrown that stupid thing out? Of course, that’s when Steve comes in.
“Hey,” he says, “what’s up?”
“Nothing. Just wondering when the wedding is,” Gina says, though she sounds less certain now, and Eddie still hasn’t said anything.
“Oh, heh—” Steve rubs the back of his head. “That’s just some old thing we wrote when we were kids. Eddie found it the other day. Thought it was funny.” He presses his lips together, looks at Eddie. “Right?”
Finally snapped out of his thoughts, Eddie blinks and says, “Right,” swallowing thickly. “Hey, who’s ready for Eddie’s spaghetti?” He spins on his heel, turns the sauce off, silently cursing as he tends to the spaghetti. It’ll be a miracle if they make it through the night.
But dinner isn’t as awkward as he thought it would be, which is a fucking relief. Before Steve and Gina dated, and before she left for Los Angeles, they were all really good friends, and it’s not long before the tension melts away with the help of good food, a few beers, and a little reminiscing.
“Oh my god, remember the time you played with us, and you fucking fell right off the stage in the middle of your solo?” Gina asks around gasps of laughter.
“Fuck off,” Eddie says, “that was an artfully timed stage dive.”
“Pfft.”
“At least I never peed myself onstage.”
“I did not—” Gina puffs her cheeks out. “It was a tiny bit of pee and you were meant to take that to your grave,” she says. When Eddie grins, she reaches over and pinches his nipple.
“Ow!” Eddie rubs his chest, angling himself away. “That was uncalled for.”
“Oh, it was very called for, my friend.”
Steve snorts and takes a sip of his beer, hiding the smile dimpling his cheeks.
“What?” Eddie and Gina say in unison.
“Nothing,” Steve says, shaking his head, “I just forgot how much you two are like clones of each other,” and his smile immediately falls. There’s a look on his face like he’s said something he shouldn’t have, and it hits Eddie right in the solar plexus.
But then Gina says, “Yeah, but only one of us has a spectacular rack,” and Eddie says, “Well, I wasn’t going to brag or anything,” puffing his chest out, and the tension breaks. It’s gone as suddenly as it descended, and they go back to eating and talking and laughing.
Inevitably, Eddie’s recent foray into matchmaking comes up, which gets maybe the biggest laugh of the evening from Gina.
“Okay, it’s not that funny,” Eddie says.
“Are you kidding me? It’s a riot. I mean you playing matchmaker for Steve?” She gasps. “Or anyone.”
“Yes, me! Why is that so funny?”
“You were always so anti-romance—”
“Well…” And, yeah, okay, Eddie did say a lot of things about how romance was for idiots back in the day. Not all of it was defensive, but some definitely was. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”
“And you don’t even date women.”
“So?”
“Apparently that makes him more qualified,” Steve says, lips twitching.
“How?” Gina says.
“It doesn’t matter,” Eddie says, before Steve can answer, “I’m hanging up my matchmaking hat, anyway.”
“Aw, why?”
“I’m too hopeless for even Eddie to help,” Steve says.
“You’re not hopeless.” It comes out more forcefully than Eddie meant it to, and his pulse skips. Hopefully, it won’t sound like anything more than a guy defending his best friend against his own self-deprecation, but it still feels exposing.
He clears his throat and reaches for his bottle of beer, but it’s empty. “I need more beer.” He goes to the fridge, an odd heat rushing him when his eyes land on the pact. Jesus Christ. Cool air hits him when he yanks the door open, but it doesn’t help. Being in fucking Antartica probably wouldn’t help right now.
“Say, you guys got anything stronger than beer around?”
Eddie grabs a bottle and slams the fridge shut, turning back to Gina. “Not right now.”
“You could go get us something?” She pulls some cash out and waves it at Eddie. “Maybe my good friend Jack Daniels?”
Eddie runs his hand through his hair and leans back against the fridge. “I…”
“I can go,” Steve says.
“No, I’ll go.” Eddie sighs, but he bats the cash away. “Your money’s no good here,” he says and sets his bottle of beer down on the table. “Make sure to miss me while I’m gone, though.”
“We’ll pine until you return,” Gina says, and Eddie rolls his eyes.
He grabs his jacket on the way out, but as he slips his hands into his pockets, he realizes his wallet isn’t in there. He pats down his jeans but it’s not there, either.
“Shit.” He scrubs a hand over his face and turns back, heading for the kitchen, the memory of setting his wallet down on the counter leading the way.
But he stops outside the doorway, legs feeling like lead. Because Steve and Gina are pressed up against the sink, and he’s got his hand on her waist, and her hand is on his chest, and they’re kissing. Passionately.
The bottom falls out of Eddie’s stomach. He backs away, turning blindly toward the front door. Fuck the wallet. Fuck Jack Daniels. He needs to get out of here. Now. He takes the stairs two at a time, bursting out into the cold night. At least he remembered the jacket, not that he feels the cold. He’s too numb.
It’s not like he thought he and Steve could actually— That they could be those things… Except, no, he did start thinking that, but it was stupid.
He’s at the end of the street before he realizes he’s heading toward Robin’s. She doesn’t live far. A couple of blocks over. Even with his jacket on, he’s shivering when he gets there, finger trembling as he goes to ring the buzzer, the numbness from earlier worn off. But maybe it’s not just the cold.
Robin’s voice crackles through the intercom, and Eddie says, “It’s me,” and she buzzes him up. He has to walk five flights of stairs because the elevator is still broken. It’s pretty much a walk-up these days and has been since a month after she moved in two years ago.
There’s a furrow in Robin’s brow when she opens the door, wearing a blue flannel shirt, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks. “Hey,” she says, “what are you doing here?”
It’s not said rudely, but Eddie would usually pretend to be offended, anyway. Tonight, he can’t bring himself to go through the usual schtick, so he says, “Needed some air,” and moves past her when she steps aside to let him in.
“At this time of night?”
“It’s not that late.” Eddie flops onto Robin’s couch, all of his energy suddenly drained. Fuck, he’s exhausted. “But yes.”
“Okay…” Robin shifts her weight, resting a hand on her hip. “Do you want a drink or something?”
“Don’t tell me you actually have something to drink here.”
“Hey!”
“Sorry.”
Eddie sighs, and Robin sits next to him. She bites her lip and twirls her hair around her finger. There’s a black and white movie paused on the television, but Robin turns it off before Eddie can figure out what it is. He probably wouldn’t have been able to, anyway.
When he remains silent, picking at the frayed threads trailing from the hole in the knee of his jeans, she pokes him. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Eddie says, and then, “Gina’s back.”
“Oh, cool.” After a few moments, Robin adds, “Right? I mean, you guys are good friends.”
“It’s totally cool.”
“Okay… Is that what you came here to tell me?”
“No, like I said, just needed some air.”
“You needed air in my apartment?”
“Yep.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Robin’s eyes narrow, but she picks up the remote, turns the television back on, and tucks her legs under her. Every so often, she glances at Eddie, then turns her full attention to the movie with a roll of her eyes when Eddie stays silent.
On the screen, there’s a guy floating face down in a pool, and Eddie’s pretty sure he knows exactly how he feels. Why can’t he get the image of Steve and Gina… The two of them, there, in their kitchen… “They were kissing.”
“What?” Robin hits pause. “Who?”
“Steve and Gina.” Even just saying their names makes Eddie’s stomach twist. “I went out to get some Jack Daniels, but I forgot my wallet, and when I went back they were basically making out against the counter.” He lets out a rueful laugh. “They must have jumped each other the moment I walked out the door.”
“Steve and Gina were kissing? Are you sure?”
“Unless he was giving her mouth-to-mouth standing up, then yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“But they broke up years ago.”
“Guess it didn’t stick.”
“No, I mean…” Robin bites her lip again, brow furrowing. “I know Steve—” She makes this frustrated noise and flops back, covering her face with her hands. She says something that sounds like “I hate secrets”, but that doesn’t make sense. She lowers her hands, dragging them down her face, and adds, “I just mean, whatever you saw, I don’t think he’s going to want to get back together with her or anything. Okay?”
“Look, can we talk about something else?”
“Yeah, but…” Robin bounces her knee. “I think you need to talk about this with Steve.”
“Later.” Or never.
“Seriously, Eddie, I think you should go now and—”
“Fine!” Eddie jumps to his feet and stalks toward the door. “I’ll go talk to him.”
“Eddie—”
Eddie sighs and turns around. He fists a hand in his hair and lifts a shoulder. “Sorry, I don’t know why I…”
“Don’t you?”
Eddie gives a small shake of his head, half a lie in one simple gesture.
“Just talk to Steve, okay? I don’t think this is what you think it is.”
“Okay,” Eddie says, and, “Thanks,” and he leaves. But he doesn’t head home. Not right away. He can’t face the thought of going back and finding them…
What if Steve gets serious with Gina? What if he moves out? Leaves Eddie?
Because that’s it, isn’t it? Eddie may have spent the past month trying to set Steve up, but there’s only one person in Eddie’s mind who’s perfect for Steve, and it’s him.
And no. Oh no. This isn’t a revelation, but it feels like one. Even though Eddie’s thoughts have been circling around it for days, weeks, now, and no matter how hard he tries, those old feelings he thought he buried keep coming back, it still feels like a punch in the gut. To no longer think about it as a what if, but as something he wants so much he aches with it. How long has he carried this and ignored it?
Sure, he thought about it the other day, when he woke up with Steve’s arms around him the morning after they decided to call off the matchmaking, but—
Shit. He’s been trying to find Steve someone else. What the fuck has he been doing? Is this some kind of subconscious self-sabotage bullshit?
All those feelings he thought he got over have always been there, simmering under the surface, coloring everything Eddie does with Steve or for Steve. He loves him, hopelessly and desperately, and he always has.
But it’s too late for Eddie now, right? Because there’s Gina… And what if he tells Steve, and it fucks up their friendship? It means everything to Eddie. Can he risk it on a chance? Especially when Steve was just kissing someone else.
As he walks, it starts raining, because of course it fucking does. Eddie’s life is a total cliche at this point, why not add a sudden downpour for extra dramatic effect? He pulls his jacket tight around himself, pushes his wet hair out of his face, and heads home. Because fuck it, it’s his apartment too. And if Steve wants to hook up with Gina while Eddie was meant to be out procuring alcohol for them, then he can do it with Eddie there, and that’s a weird train of thought, but Eddie’s wet and angry and an idiot, and he doesn’t care.
The apartment door gets the brunt of his frustration as he throws it open, relishing the bang as it hits the wall. He regrets it moments later because he doesn’t want to announce his arrival, but it’s too late, now. Gritting his teeth, he kicks off his shoes, leaving him in wet socks. Ugh.
Water drips, pooling at his feet, and he knows it’ll piss Steve off, but good. He wants it to. Shit. He does his best to mop it up with his already wet socks, but it’s not the most effective method, so he gives up. The heat of his anger has receded enough that he’s shivering as he shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on the hook. More water drips down the wall, and he sighs.
“Eddie?” Footsteps sound down the hall, and then Steve is there in the doorway. “Where the hell have you been?” His brows raise. “You go for a swim or something?”
There’s a pointed clap of thunder, and Eddie spreads his hands. “It’s raining.”
“Well, gee, is that what that sound is?” Steve crosses his arms, leans against the door jamb. “Seriously, where’ve you been? I was about to come looking for you.”
Despite the worry creasing Steve’s brow, Eddie says, “And leave our guest all alone?”
“Technically, she was your guest because you invited her, but, anyway, she’s not here.” Steve shifts his weight, doesn’t look at Eddie. “She went home not long after you left.”
Rain patters against the window, and, in the distance, thunder rumbles. Eddie’s pulse stutters. “Why?”
Steve lifts one shoulder. “She wasn’t feeling well.”
“She was fine earlier.”
“Yeah…” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “Look, man, can we talk?”
There’s a sickening swoop in Eddie’s stomach. What if Steve wants to tell him he’s getting back together with Gina? “I’m soaking wet.”
“Right, yeah, you should dry off.”
“Yeah.” Eddie’s heart thumps hard. He looks at Steve for a moment longer, then shakes his head and stalks off to the bathroom. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He should’ve… He should’ve… He should’ve what? Been less of an oblivious fucking idiot? Actually listened to himself?
Fucking fuck.
Water drips down his nose, so he reaches for his towel, but the rack is empty. “Where’s my fucking towel?”
“It’s wash day!”
“What?”
Steve pokes his head around the door and repeats, “It’s wash day.”
“I need a towel.”
With a huff, Steve moves into the bathroom, opening the cupboard under the sink and grabbing a towel. He holds it out to Eddie. “A towel.”
Eddie snatches it, or he tries to, but Steve holds onto it.
“What’s going on?”
“What?”
“You took forever to get one bottle of Jack Daniels, which you didn’t actually get, and then you come storming in in a shitty mood, when you were fine earlier.”
“I got caught in the rain. It wasn’t fun.” Eddie tugs, and Steve finally relents, letting Eddie take the towel. It’s a little rough from years of use; they should get new towels. They. God fucking damn it.
“Okay, but—”
“Are you going to watch me dry off?”
“Jesus Christ. I thought I was the moody one.” Steve leans against the sink. “Did something happen, or…”
Yes. I finally came to my senses, but it was too late. Except… Gina’s gone. And Steve doesn’t exactly have the air of a man who’s gotten back together with someone, does he? Or maybe that’s what the nervousness radiating from him is. Maybe he’s nervous to tell Eddie because he and Gina are friends. Eddie lowers the towel, looks at Steve. He can’t read him. “Nothing happened.”
“Okay…” It’s still raining, and Eddie’s still wet, and Steve’s still standing there. “Can we talk?” he asks. “Before I lose my nerve.”
“I—” Eddie swallows. “I don’t think I wanna hear it, man…”
Steve looks like he’s been punched in the gut, and that’s not fair, because it’s Eddie who feels it. It’s Eddie Steve wants to leave behind. Steve sniffs, squeezes his nose. “Right.”
“I mean, I…” The room feels like it’s spinning, and Eddie grasps for something, anything, to hold onto and says, “I should put dry clothes on.”
“Yeah, of course, sorry.” There’s uncertainty in Steve’s voice and the way he presses his lips together. “I, uh… I’ll make coffee. You’re probably freezing.”
“Thanks.”
Without another word, Steve leaves the bathroom, and it’s not long before Eddie can hear him moving around the kitchen through the thin walls. He never realized how comforting that sound is. Just Steve, doing his Steve things in another room, existing in the same space as Eddie. It’s something Eddie wants—needs—in his life forever.
And, part of him, even when he was fooling himself that he wasn’t in love with Steve, thought they would be together forever. Or, no… He might not have thought that, consciously, but he never considered the alternative. Even when he thought about Steve finding a girlfriend, Steve leaving Eddie and their life here together never felt real. But now…
Now it’s all he can think about, and it’s terrifying.
He takes his time drying off, then slinks to his room to change. He takes his time there, too, trying on three or four different shirts, before he can’t find any plausible way to stretch out getting changed any longer.
The way his heart pounds harder and harder as he makes his way to the kitchen makes him feel like he’s going to puke. It just about jumps out of his chest when he sees Steve standing by the kitchen counter. It’s nothing new. Eddie’s seen Steve standing there so many times over the years.
Even before they lived together, there were countless late nights at each other’s places back in Hawkins, then their separate apartments after they left Indiana, with pretty much exactly the same scene. But tonight, it feels different. Because tonight Eddie isn’t looking at Steve through the eyes of a friend in denial of his feelings. He’s looking at him as a man in love and who knows it. So fucking in love, it’s honestly a little terrifying. But not being in love with Steve… That’s scarier.
He hovers in the door for a moment, watching Steve, until he finally shuffles into the room. Steve looks up, but he doesn’t say anything. He nods to a mug of coffee sitting beside him on the counter. Eddie takes it, stands near Steve, but not as close as he usually would. He sips the coffee and doesn’t look at Steve.
“I need to tell you—” Steve says at the same time Eddie blurts, “About before—”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Steve waves his hand and says, “You go.”
Eddie doesn’t argue, but he does take his time to say, “Sorry for being kind of a dick.”
“I’m used to it,” Steve says with a small smile.
“Like you’re never a dick.”
“Nah, I’m pretty perfect.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, “I guess you are,” a little more sincere than maybe Steve was expecting if the look on his face is anything to go by.
“Okay.” A pleased look crosses Steve’s face, doing things to Eddie he can’t believe he ever tried to convince himself were friendly, but then Steve sobers and says, “Look, man, can we talk now?”
“I—” Panic rises, settling in Eddie’s throat; he sets his coffee down and pushes away from the counter, needing some distance. “You don’t have to say anything, okay, I’m pretty sure I know what you’re going to say—”
“Oh.”
There’s a fleeting look of something maybe hopeful on Steve’s face but he looks crushed a moment later when Eddie adds, “And I… I can’t hear it,” and Eddie doesn’t understand. But he keeps going: “I mean, I saw, you know, so I don’t need you to spell it out for me. I’m…” He swallows. “Happy for you.”
“Wait…” Confusion crumples Steve’s face. “Saw what?”
“You and Gina. You were kissing.”
“You… You think I want to talk about Gina?”
“Yes?” Was he wrong? Please, let him be wrong. “Or I did a moment ago, but I don’t now.”
“Oh my god, I thought—” Steve runs a hand through his hair and leans back. “Shit. Yeah, we… You saw us?”
Eddie nods. “I forgot my wallet, and I came back.”
“Shit. Eddie, I…” Steve lets out a long breath. “Yeah, we kissed, but that’s why she left.”
“Huh?”
“She was into it, I wasn’t, so she left.”
“It looked like you were into it.”
“No, I— I don’t know. I might’ve gotten caught up for a moment, but it wasn’t anything. I told her it’s not her I want to kiss. She was pretty embarrassed about it, and then she left.”
Hope sneaks in beneath the despair that’s been weighing Eddie down since he saw Steve and Gina pressed up against this kitchen counter, bright, but wary. “So… You’re not into Gina again?”
“No.”
“Is there…” It’s not her I want to kiss. The words echo in Eddie’s mind, making him ask, “Is there someone else?”
If Eddie thought he felt sick with the crazy beat of his heart before, it’s nothing compared to now, waiting for Steve to answer. And then Steve says, “Yeah,” and Eddie’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” At the look of surprised confusion on Steve’s face, Eddie adds, “I mean, why did you let me keep setting you up if there’s already…someone you like.” Or more?
Steve deflates, sagging back against the counter. He looks so tired. “I don’t know. I’m not sure it would work. With me and…this person.” He lifts one shoulder. “I just figured it was hopeless.”
“Have you told them?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know it’s hopeless?”
There’s a beat of loaded silence before Steve says, “Because he keeps setting me up on dates with other people.”
“You—” Is this happening? Yeah. Yeah, this is happening. “Oh. Oh, holy shit!” Laughter bubbles up in Eddie, giddy and dizzying; he feels like he’s floating, and it’s all he can do to stay on the ground. He spins on his heel, then points his finger at Steve. “You…” He waves at his own chest. “Me?”
“What’s happening? Are you having a stroke, or something?”
“It’s not.”
“A stroke?”
“Hopeless!” Eddie lets out something between a sigh and a laugh. “Jesus Christ, this is the worst love confession ever.”
“Love…”
“Yes.” There’s only one step between them, and Eddie takes it, grasping Steve’s shirt, intending to close the rest of the distance, but Steve stops him, hand pressed to Eddie’s chest. A little sliver of ice makes its way through the warmth flooding Eddie. “Don’t you want…”
“Yeah, of course I do.” The hand resting on Eddie’s chest moves to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and Steve plays with the collar of Eddie’s shirt. “But I’m still really fucking confused about what’s happening. Why were you setting me up on dates if you—”
“Because I thought you were straight!” Eddie steps back again, but not too far. He can still feel Steve’s warmth. It’s grounding. “You very much told me you were wrong about being into guys years ago and haven’t said anything since.” He swallows and tilts his head to the side. “Okay, except that night, after your date with Lisa, but I couldn’t recalibrate fast enough, I guess, and I thought if you were into me, you would’ve said something.”
“Did you miss the part where you were setting me up on dates with other people, or…”
“I meant before that.”
Steve looks at his feet. “I— Yeah, that’s fair…” He lets out a soft, self-deprecating huff. “But I guess it felt like too big a risk.” He sweeps his hand through the air, looking back to Eddie. “This—you, the store, Mercury—it’s everything to me. And if you didn’t—” His voice cracks, and he shakes his head.
And, oh, Steve. Eddie’s chest aches. Wasn’t he thinking the exact same thing? Would he have ever taken the risk if Steve hadn’t said something first? He likes to think so. He’s pretty sure he would. Still, he says, “I get it.” He nudges Steve’s foot with his toe and adds in a stage whisper, “I was scared too.”
“I didn’t say I was scared.” Steve crosses his arms, mouth turned down in an exaggerated pout, but his eyes soon soften and his shoulders drop. “But, yeah, I guess I was.”
Eddie reaches out, curling his fingers around Steve’s wrist, tugging until Steve unfolds his arms, so he can pull him close. “Guess I’m in good company then.”
“Guess you are.” Steve licks his lips, a grin slowly forming. “So, are we gonna kiss now, or—”
Eddie doesn’t give Steve the chance to finish: he kisses him like he should have weeks, months, fuck, maybe years ago. And Steve sinks into it, kissing Eddie with abandon, moaning softly, until Eddie brings his hands up to cup Steve’s face, and Steve jerks back.
“Fuck.” Steve squirms away. “Your hands are cold.” He folds Eddie’s hands in his, rubbing them together.
Eddie’s pulse leaps; warmth flows through him, and it’s not just from the feeling of Steve’s hands on his, but the way Steve is looking at him, and from knowing that Steve wants Eddie too.
Steve kisses Eddie’s hands, color coming into his cheeks. “There,” he says, pressing one last kiss to Eddie’s knuckles.
Eddie reaches up again, sliding a hand along Steve’s jaw. “Better?”
Steve nods. His eyes are dark and burn through Eddie, the feeling settling low in his gut.
But Eddie doesn’t kiss him again, not yet. He looks at Steve, heart full of so much love, he has no idea how he ever pretended it wasn’t there. How he ever thought he could push it aside, get over it. Maybe it’s because it’s so deep inside, this part of him that he doesn’t think will ever shift. Like something that’s always been there. He lets out a soft breath and runs his thumb along Steve’s jaw.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Eddie bites his lip. “You know if I hadn’t found that old pact we made, we might have been scared forever.” He nods to the fridge where it’s still stuck with the Snoopy magnet. That it’s still there should have been a clue.
“Fuck, that thing really messed me up.” Steve tips his head back, and Eddie fights the urge to kiss his neck, the hollow right at the bottom of his throat because it’s not the time. Not yet. Steve runs a hand along Eddie’s arm. “I thought you saw it as some big joke, the idea of us being together.”
“No way. Aren’t I the one who always says we’re practically married already?”
“Yeah, because you’re always so serious when you say that.”
“Well,” Eddie says, “I’m serious now.”
“That’s good to know.” Steve grins, tongue between his teeth. “You know,” he says, “if we’re practically married, we’ve kind of skipped over some of the fun parts.”
Eddie raises his brows. “Like what?”
Steve hooks his fingers into Eddie’s belt, pulls him impossibly closer. “I’ll show you,” he says and kisses Eddie again, hands warm and steadying on his face.
“Mm, yeah, I see what you’re saying,” Eddie says, pushing Steve back against the fridge. “Anything else?”
Steve laughs into the kiss, then pushes Eddie away, only to circle his fingers around Eddie’s wrist. When he tugs, Eddie lets Steve pull him toward their rooms.
“Oh,” Eddie says, “so that’s the fun part,” thrilled at Steve’s bright laughter.
- -
It’s not the first time Eddie’s woken up to a bed warmed by someone else, lately, but this time he knows there are so many more mornings like this to come. He blinks blearily at Steve lying beside him and croaks out, “Morning.”
“Morning.”
“How long have you been watching me?”
“Not long.” Steve slips one hand out from where it’s tucked under the pillow on his side of the bed and runs it down the center of Eddie’s chest, stopping at his belly button.
It sends a frisson of desire through Eddie, but he lets it simmer for now. He rolls onto his side so he can face Steve and slips his arm around Steve’s waist. “Sleep okay?”
“Yeah.” Shivers run down Eddie’s spine as Steve slides his hand up Eddie’s back, resting it between his shoulder blades. Steve rubs his hand in slow circles. “You?”
Eddie nods and hums low. “Very well.”
The rain from last night has stopped, and it’s warm in Eddie’s bed. Even warmer when Steve grins and slips his leg between Eddie’s, ankles hooked around each other. “Hey…” A furrow appears in his brow. “Can I ask you something? And don’t say I just did.”
Eddie huffs. Steve knows him too fucking well. “What do you wanna know? I’m an open book, baby.” He winks.
Steve rolls his eyes, then he bites his lip. “How come you kept setting me up on dates if you…like me.” He clears his throat. “I mean, I know you said you thought I was straight, or maybe not into you, and I get that part but… I still don’t get the matchmaking. I don’t know if I could have tried to set you up without feeling like I wanted to die, or something.”
“I did kind of feel like that sometimes.”
“Then why did you do it?” Steve asks, shoving Eddie lightly.
Eddie sighs and rolls onto his back again. He runs a hand through his hair. “That is a very good question, Steve.”
“Thanks.”
“But I only have a really dumb answer.”
“I’ll take it.”
It takes a moment for Eddie to collect his thoughts, scattered and skittish as they are. When he manages to corral them into something vaguely coherent, he says, “You know how you tried it with guys, years ago?”
“I’m pretty familiar with that, yeah.”
“It… It kind of gave me hope that you could… We could…” Eddie lets out a stuttering breath. He’s never told anyone this. He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Wait, you… Were you into me, back then?”
Eddie lifts his shoulders and glances at Steve. “Kinda yeah.”
“Fuck.”
“Anyway, you said it wasn’t for you, and I tried to shove those feelings down. And I thought I’d gotten over it—gotten over you—but the feelings were all still there. Just… It took me a while to realize that I hadn’t gotten over you. Like, at all.” Eddie’s heart beats hard. “That I’m kind of still majorly in love with you.”
“Oh.” Steve looks down; he toys with the sheets, a small smile playing over his mouth. “You know, I freaked out back then. I didn’t want to not be straight.” He looks up at Eddie, licks his lips. “But I’m cool with it now.”
“Yeah?”
“Very cool with it.” Steve reaches out, tugging until Eddie is facing him again. “And I’m kind of majorly in love with you, too.”
“You better be,” Eddie says and leans in to kiss Steve. Fuck, he hopes he gets to do this for the rest of his life. And, if there’s an afterlife, he really hopes ghosts kiss.
“So,” Steve says, when they part, “where does this leave us with the pact?”
“Huh?”
“Well, the pact says we get married if we’re both still single by the time we’re thirty. But now we’re together—” Steve raises his brows.
“That we are.”
The cutest fucking smile Eddie has ever seen tilts Steve’s lips. “So,” Steve says, “technically we’re not single but…”
“Are you proposing to me?”
“No!”
“Ooh, you fast mover, you!”
“Fuck off.” A pretty flush spreads over Steve’s face, but he looks happily embarrassed, more than upset with it. “You’re so annoying.”
“And, yet, you wanna marry me.”
“I definitely do not.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” Eddie says, pushing Steve over, and straddling him. “You wanna marry me so bad.” He tickles Steve. “You wanna be my husband and— Oof.” Eddie finds himself on his back; he blinks up at Steve. “You play dirty.”
“Just shut up,” Steve says and kisses Eddie again.
This time, when they part, Eddie reaches up, pushing his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I’d marry you if I could,” he says softly.
“Easy to say that when we can’t,” Steve says, but there’s this open, fond look on his face.
“No,” Eddie says, “it’s really not.”
Steve’s breath catches. He turns his face into the palm of Eddie’s hand, pressing a kiss there. “I know.” His lips twitch under Eddie’s skin. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“I can’t believe you, trying to set me up on dates, instead of just telling me how you feel.”
“You didn’t tell me either!”
“Mm. I guess that’s fair. It was still a pretty crazy thing to do.”
“Shut up. I just wanted to make you happy.”
“Well, you have.”
“Yeah?”
Steve nods, biting his lip. “Very happy.”
They stare at each other for a moment, and Eddie could happily stay like this forever, but then Mercury hops onto the bed, pawing and meowing at them.
“Sometimes I wish she wasn’t so cute,” Eddie says, head flopping back. Mercury takes that as a sign to slip between him and Steve, kneading Eddie’s chest. “Guess it’s time for breakfast.” He scratches Mercury’s chin. “Daddy will get your breakfast, soon, sweetheart,” he says, then looks up at Steve, “won’t you?”
“Oh my god, stop calling me that.” Steve laughs, shaking his head, but he pushes himself off Eddie and gathers up some clothes—not all his—before padding off to the kitchen with Mercury trailing behind him. They should definitely get her a brother or sister.
Eddie stays in bed a moment longer, relishing the feeling of having woken up with Steve after spending the night with him. Well, he’s spent the night with Steve before, but he’s never spent the night with Steve before. And now he can spend every night with Steve.
Holy shit.
Every night. Forever.
Maybe he’ll even make an honest man of Steve one of these days. Despite his joking earlier, the marriage thing is honestly pretty appealing.
“Hey, lazy bones,” Steve says, poking his head back through the door, “come help me feed your child.”
“Oh, so she’s my child now?”
Steve rolls his eyes and disappears again.
It’s nice in bed, and Eddie feels lazy, but he’s also itching to be near Steve again, kiss him again, touch him again. So, he finally gets up, pulling on some clothes, and following the scent of brewing coffee to the kitchen.
And there, leaning against the counter is Steve, sweats slung low on his hips, and Eddie’s old Iron Maiden shirt sliding off one shoulder. He’s literally Eddie’s dream come true, as cornball as it is to think that.
“Hey,” Eddie says from the door.
“Hey.”
Mercury is happily eating from her bowl, unaware of her two humans making goo-goo eyes at each other across the kitchen.
Steve holds out a hand, beckoning with a tilt of his head. “C’mere,” he says, and, well, Eddie doesn’t have to be told twice.
The kitchen isn’t big, but Eddie crosses it quicker than he ever has, taking Steve’s hand and letting Steve pull him into his arms. Steve buries his face in the side of Eddie’s neck, breathing in deep. “Let’s skip work today.” He nuzzles in, kissing Eddie’s neck. “I know the boss, he’s a total pushover.”
“Is he?”
“Mmm.”
“I guess the shop could survive being closed unexpectedly for one day,” Eddie says, tilting his head to the side so Steve can kiss his neck more easily.
“Told you—total pushover.”
Eddie huffs, and then he pushes away from Steve. “This pushover needs coffee.”
“Right now?” Steve raises his brows, reaching out again.
“Yes….” Eddie says, even as he lets Steve pull him back close again. “Well,” he says, looping his arms around Steve’s neck, “I guess it can wait,” and he kisses Steve deeply.
They make out against the kitchen counter like a couple of kids who can’t keep their hands off each other until the need for coffee outgrows the need to kiss Steve. It’s a close competition, though.
As Steve goes to the fridge, he nods at the pact still stuck there with the Snoopy magnet. “What are we going to do with this?”
Eddie sidles over and plucks the old piece of pizza box off the fridge. He waves it in Steve’s face and says, “I think I have an idea.”
- -
“I can’t believe you framed that,” Robin says where she’s curled up on the armchair, Nermal—Mercury’s new little brother—purring in her lap, and a slice of pizza in her hand.
On the coffee table across from her, the pact Steve and Eddie made all those years ago sits newly framed, nestled beside the pizza box, waiting to be hung on the wall.
“It’s a piece of history,” Eddie says, “it had to be preserved.”
Robin rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at her lips. She scratches the top of Nermal’s head, idly, watching Eddie and Steve where they’re tangled together on the two-seater.
“What?” Steve says around a mouthful of pizza.
“You two are so gross,” she says, happily.
“Whatever.” Steve hugs Eddie tighter to his side and grins over at Robin.
And, fuck, Eddie can’t believe he nearly gave up on this. He can’t believe he ever thought this wasn’t something that he wanted, that he ever thought it was out of reach. It’s so tangible. And it’s all his, for as long as he wants it. Which is probably going to be forever.
“Hey,” Eddie says, a thought slowly forming, “how do you feel about marrying us?”
Robin’s face screws up, and she points at her chest. When Eddie nods, she says, “Uh, one: lesbian. Two: polygamy is illegal.”
“No, I meant…” Eddie waves between him and Steve. “Marrying us.”
Robin shakes her head.
“To each other.” It wasn’t something Eddie seriously considered until Steve, but he is so into the idea, now. Being Steve’s husband. It sounds good. “You know, officiate our marriage. Or as close to it as we can.”
Robin’s eyes widen, and her hand goes to her mouth. She looks between Steve and Eddie, nodding eagerly. “Holy shit,” she says flapping her hands, “yes!” It spooks Nermal, who scurries away, tucking himself by his older sister’s side.
“Excellent!”
“Uh, Eddie,” Steve says.
“So, like, are you thinking big wedding or something small?” Robin leans forward, elbows on her knees, chin in her hands.
“Medium sized.”
Steve pokes Eddie. “Eddie.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think you maybe forgot something?”
“No.”
“Like… Maybe you forgot to ask a certain someone something…”
Eddie snaps his fingers. “Shit, you’re right.” He looks at Mercury and says, “Hey, Mercury, you wanna be the ring bearer?”
Yellow eyes blink up at Eddie, Mercury’s paw raised halfway to her tongue; she stares at Eddie for a moment, then resumes grooming herself.
Steve shoves him. “You know what I meant.”
“Maybe I did, Steve.” Eddie grins. And then, in front of Robin, Mercury, Nermal, and the poster of Lemmy above them, he gets on one knee by Steve’s feet and says, “Wanna get hitched?” spreading his arms wide.
“I want you to know,” Steve says, getting on his knees, too, “that I am so tempted to say no right now,” grabbing Eddie’s wrists so he can pull Eddie’s arms around his waist.
Looping his arms around Steve’s neck, Eddie nudges their foreheads together. “But?”
Steve pulls Eddie close and murmurs, “You know it’s yes, you dork,” and then he kisses him, slow and hot and deep, and if Eddie was any happier he’d explode.
“Please,” Robin says, “some of us are trying to eat.”
- -
“A little to the left,” Eddie says, arms crossed as he admires the view of Steve standing on a stool in front of him. Damn, but he’s a lucky bastard. “No, your other left.”
“Here?”
“Hmm. Up a little.” A tiny flash of heat shoots through Eddie as Steve leans up, exposing the small of his back, his jeans pulling even tighter. “No, a little more.”
Steve glances over his shoulder, quirking a brow. He holds out the hammer to Eddie and says, “How about you fucking do it?”
“But you’re doing such a great job,” Eddie says, “and you look so good up there.”
“Oh, for—” Steve sighs, but his lips twitch, and when he turns back around he wiggles his ass. “How’s that?”
“That is beautiful, Steve. I could just about eat it.” Skirting the more salacious innuendo—for now—Eddie gnashes his teeth, the click timed perfectly to the rhythm of the song playing.
“If you even think about biting my ass—”
“I meant the frame.”
“Sure.” With one final adjustment, Steve wipes his hands on his jeans and gets down from the stool, leaving the hammer on it and coming to stand beside Eddie. He throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You know,” he says, leaning in close, “all that hard work made me hungry.”
“Did it?”
“Mm.” Steve nips Eddie’s earlobe. “I think I could just about eat you.”
“Later.” Heat simmers pleasantly in Eddie’s blood. “I’m admiring your handiwork.”
Steve snorts.
“My husband, the handyman.”
“My husband, the wise guy.” Steve sighs, long suffering, but the roll of his eyes makes way for the bright beam of his smile, and he looks as deliriously happy as Eddie feels. “So,” he says, “how does it look?”
“Hmm.” Eddie considers the wall, tapping a finger to his chin.
There, beside the pact, the random art, numerous band posters, and snapshots of their life together, is another framed piece of pizza box. This one is newer, saved from the night Eddie proposed, and it reads: This certifies that Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington were hitched on this day by Robin Buckley, witnessed by Mercury and Nermal.
“You know what Steve?” Eddie says, squeezing Steve to his side, hand tight on his husband’s waist. “It looks perfect.”
- -