Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Steeeeeeeeve,” Eddie shouted from inside the murky depths of his bedroom closet. “I need heeeeelpppp!”

Eddie Munson had a date. His first date in as long as they’d lived in that house, his first real date ever, really, that didn't consist of a quickie in the bathroom at some point followed immediately by awkward promises to call that neither of them really meant. Not that he was opposed to a quickie in the bathroom, he just wasn’t accustomed to being wined and dined first. 

Eddie was tough, a metalhead, a wild thing, unbound by convention and conformity, he didn’t do dates. Eddie had fought monsters, he’d battled evil and won, died and come back. Eddie was a badass, Eddie was…  he was nervous, scared out of his fucking mind. Had been since Bastian had asked him out earlier in the week. Hot, music nerd Bastian, who worked at the record store Eddie liked to frequent over his lunch breaks at the garage. Bastian, who had winked at Eddie as he was paying for his purchase on one of his trips in, and who had asked with a wicked grin if he could keep Eddie’s number when he gave it to him for store rewards, like it was as simple as that to pick someone up. They’d been texting for the better part of two weeks, flirty little hellos and more winky face emojis than Eddie had ever used in his lifetime, but it had resulted in a date, so he must have been doing something right. 

A date that he had that night. In just over an hour. A real date, with, like, food and hand holding and oh god, was Bastian going to want to hold his hand? 

Eddie wiped his sweaty palms panickedly down the fabric of his skirt, and shouted again for Steve. Steve would know what to do, Steve went on lots of dates. Maybe not as many lately, come to think of it, but still. There was precedence. 

Steve and Eddie had lived together for going-on five years, a comfortable arrangement that had somehow, against all odds, worked out to be one of the best things in his life. It was hard to wrap his head around it most days, that he, the world’s most unlucky guy even for a Munson, had not only managed to end up living with his literal dream man, but that they had forged an unbreakable friendship to boot. Steve Harrington wasn’t just a pretty face to gawk at anymore. He was family, and Eddie would be forever grateful for him. Never mind that he was more than a little bit in love with the guy, he had learned to live with it. That was just the status quo at that point, his baseline, the uszhe. It was fine. Totally fine. 

Their living arrangement had started how these things often did, as friends from home, something safe and familiar — the two of them plus Robin having become inseparable that first summer after graduation due to some super normal trauma bonding over their near-death experiences with saving the world from an interdimensional demon. Because none of them could sleep soundly on their own, it only made sense that they all move in together. 

Robin had gotten into the University of Indianapolis on scholarship, and Eddie and Steve had followed, the three of them sharing a shitty college apartment that was way too small for anyone other than three people who couldn’t bear to be more than a few feet apart from each other at all times. Unsure of what else to do with themselves, Steve and Eddie had enrolled in the local community college, eventually earning a pair of associate degrees that were more than either of them had ever planned on or expected to have in their lives. By the time Robin had graduated and moved to Chicago with her girlfriend, the nightmares of Vecna and the Upside Down were more and more in the past, and the two men settled into a blissful domestic routine as… actual, honest to god friends. 

Steve had received an Associate of Arts degree specializing in elementary education. He hadn’t really been sure what he wanted to do, but he knew he loved kids and had been substituting with the district while taking classes at the college. He’d managed to land a job teaching elementary P.E. and turned out he was a natural at it. He was in his second year there full time while taking night classes to earn his Bachelors, and had never been happier. Eddie, as it turned out, had a knack for working on cars, and had earned several certificates in auto tech, landing a nice, cushy job working on fancy, imported European cars for rich assholes who paid top dollar and tipped exceedingly well. The farthest cry from the rumbling, hunk o’ junk van he’d kept going for years after she should have been run into the ground, and the irony was not lost on any of them.

All in all, they’d built a pretty good life for themselves, eventually moving out of the shitty apartment and settling into a small rental house in the older part of town the year before. It wasn’t the kind of exciting life that Eddie used to envision for himself when he was younger, but he was honestly happier than he’d ever been — carpooling with Steve to and from work every day, shopping for groceries together every Saturday morning, taking turns cooking each night. They had even acquired the stray that used to hang out outside their old apartment building looking for scraps. Their pride and joy, a fat, orange striped cat called Odie — named, of course, by Eddie to subvert the Garfieldonormative stereotypes, and to annoy Wayne. They were happy, all things considered, and Eddie hadn’t thought there was anything missing from his life.

That was, until Bastian had asked him out, shining a blinding white spotlight onto the empty, man-shaped gap in Eddie’s world labeled “relationship.” He had sex, of course, found it startlingly easy to get laid once he realized that he actually could find partners there in a much larger city than where he’d grown up. He’d never been left wanting for that sort of release, and as for companionship… he had Steve. He honestly hadn’t thought that his living situation was weird until the night Bastian had finally asked him out. 

Bastian: So, there’s this new italian place opening downtown, I’ve heard they have killer pasta

Eddie: Oh yeah, Steve and I have been meaning to check that out!

Bastian: It’s right around the corner from that little independent theater, might be cool to
check out a movie there sometime… 👀

Eddie: You’d love it, Steve and I
go there all the time 

Bastian: Eddie
Bastian: Is Steve your boyfriend?

Eddie: …
Eddie: wdym?

Bastian: What I’m trying to say is, I like you, Eddie, and I’d like to take you out. But you’re making it really hard to get a read on what your situation with this Steve guy is

Oh. Oh shit.

The revelation was startling on multiple levels, because first of all, it really hadn’t occurred to him that Bastian was interested in more than maybe just an occasional hookup. Which was flattering in and of itself, but a date? Wow, that was a first. But secondly, that Bastian somehow had the impression that Steve and Eddie were involved? Eddie liked to daydream sometimes on his gloomier days that his life with Steve was something more than it was, but he hadn’t realized that other people could see it. 

He’d bent over backwards reassuring the man that Steve was strictly a friend — like a brother! And he's straight! — giving some half-assed, roundabout explanation about shared childhood trauma that meant they were maybe closer than your average two bros living together, but still definitely not a couple. Appeased, Bastian made the offer official, for the Italian food, for the movie in the cute, intimate little theater, for the kind of soft thing that Eddie had never had before, and suddenly, it was a date.

“STEVE,” he shrieked, verging on hysterical, could feel the panic clawing its way up his chest. He was dressed all wrong, he was too fidgety to be able to sit through a whole dinner and a movie, he was too weird for Bastian to be able to stand him for an entire evening. Eddie could feel himself beginning to sweat, and Christ, now he was going to smell weird, and he was reaching for his phone to call the thing off when a voice called to him from the other side of the closet door. 

“Eddie, you’re going to either suffocate or become buried alive if you don’t come out of your closet sometime soon,” the voice called, warm and teasing. Steve’s voice, Eddie’s favorite voice in the whole wide world, second only maybe to Ronnie James Dio, may he rest in peace.

He bit his lip, staring his reflection down in the dingy mirror he’d hung on the back of the closet door. “I don’t know, Steve, it’s a disaster.”

“What’s a disaster, Eds? You? That we can’t help,” Steve was laughing and it warmed Eddie, settled him. “But if it’s your outfit, I’d say dress like yourself. Brendan asked you out, not some other guy who dresses better.”

“Bastian,” Eddie corrected, so nervous that he didn’t even bite back on the playful digs. “His name is Bastian and you know it. Ok, I’m coming out.”

“And we love you just the same,” Steve quipped dryly. Edie peeked his head around the corner of the door, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Har har, a coming out joke, how original. On this, the day of my big gay date. You’re hilarious, Harrington.” Steve snickered and Eddie rolled his eyes affectionately.

He took a breath and stepped out from behind the wood paneling, exposing his entire ‘fit to the man who was sitting relaxed on his bed like he belonged there. As soon as Steve’s eyes landed on Eddie, the smirking, smug look on his face fell, mouth dropping open and his eyes widened in surprise. That was… a good sign? 

Eddie was wearing a tight, fitted black T, paired with a long, gray wool skirt that fell just past his knees. It was pleated at the hips, low-rise whereas the t-shirt was just this side of too small and rode up just enough to expose the sharp jut of his hip bone. He finished the look with his usual chunky silver jewelry, chains and rings and a dangly sword earring, plus his usual thick black Doc Martin boots. Dark eyes smudged with eyeliner, and hair pulled half-up, the long curls cascading past his shoulders, a couple strands pulled out of the ponytail to frame his pale face. Slut strands, he knew, but sue him; he looked cute like this. 

“Tell me the truth, is it ok? Spare no praise, I was really feeling myself earlier but now I’m not so sure. You know what I always say, flattery will get you—”

“Everything,” Steve blurted out, a surprised look on his face like he hadn’t meant to say it. “Eds, this look… it’s everything.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, a slow smile growing on his face to complement the rising blush. He instantly regretted having pulled his hair up because it left nothing for him to hide behind. “You like?”

“I love, ” Steve gritted out from between clenched teeth. His face was flushed pink, like the room was suddenly too hot, and his pupils were blown wide with a hungry, almost animal look to them. “Bastard’s gonna love it.”

“Bastian.”

“Whoever.”

Eddie turned to fuss about with the fabric and his jewelry for a minute in the mirror, and by the time he turned back around, Steve had flopped backwards onto the bed, fully prone, face covered with his big hands like he couldn’t bear to look anymore. 

“Scooch over,” Eddie said softly, nudging Steve’s hip with his knee. When Steve moved fractionally to the side, Eddie flopped down next to him, staring up at the ceiling as he gnawed on his lip.

“I’m nervous, man,” he confessed, finding it easier to talk now that Steve’s heavy gaze wasn’t on him. “So nervous. Like… I’ve never done this before. Hook ups I understand, sex is easy, but romance? What’s a guy like me supposed to do with that? ”

Steve had dropped hands from his face and had relaxed into Eddie’s side, pressed there together on the mattress, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. His eyes were closed and he looked deep in thought. Eddie waited, watching him curiously out of the corner of his eye, wondering what advice he would give. 

What came next out of Steve’s mouth was nothing that Eddie had been expecting.

“If it were me, if I were the guy, Eds, I know what I would do if I were the one lucky enough to take you out on a date,” he began softly, voice like velvet. Eddie wanted to wrap himself up in the sound, feel it drag all along his body, live there forever. 

“First, I’d pick you up,” Steve continued, weaving his words like a spell. “Is whatshisname picking you up or are you meeting him?”

“Meeting him.”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed, the corners of his lips pulling down in displeasure. “That’s his first mistake. I would pick you up, would want to make you feel special. Meet you at your door, walk you to the car. Take care of you. Bring you a little gift — flowers maybe, to make you laugh, candy because you’re sweet.”

“Chocolate?” Eddie asked, perking up. He loved candy. “You’re so predictable.”

“SweeTarts, a whole bag of ‘em,” Steve countered, smile tugging at his lips in the most delicious way, a smile that only Eddie got to see. “Because you’re not that sweet, Munson.”

Eddie laughed, delighted. This sweet and sour, this push and pull, this ability of Steve’s to meet Eddie right where he was and give as good as he got lit up some part of his brain that no one else could touch, and it was frighteningly addicting. He wanted more, always more. “And then, Steve?”

“What’s the date tonight, dinner and a movie you said? And you say I’m predictable. Ok. I’d take you to a place I knew well for dinner, something older, more established and out of the way so we wouldn’t be fighting the crowd. Someplace dark, with tight little corner booths, perfect for close talking, and closer sitting. You and me, pressed up together in the flickering candlelight, reading from the same menu. I’d order you a cocktail, an old fashioned — sweet, because I know you like it, and whiskey because it always warms you up, makes your face flush the prettiest pink.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathed, his pulse picking up in the strangest way, laughter fading from his lips. 

“We’d order something to start with, something to nibble, that draws the eyes to our mouths. Another cocktail between that and the main course, and by then you’d be a little more relaxed, not afraid to lean in a little closer. I might drop my hand on your knee under the table, drag my fingers up your thigh, just the tiniest bit, just enough to tease. And just when you feel like you can’t take it any longer, the food will come. We’ll break apart like we’ve been doing something we shouldn’t have, and then we’ll laugh quietly to ourselves, hoping the waitress didn’t notice. I’ll feed you bites from my plate, watch you wrap those perfect lips of yours around my fork, right where my mouth had been. It’ll make me so hungry, Eds, but not for food.” 

“And then?” Eddie asked, breathless, practically panting. He could picture it, all of it. 

“We’ll share a dessert, of course. One plate, two spoons. A dessert cocktail for you, nothing for me because I have to drive. Have to keep you safe, Eds. We’re running late for the movie, have to sprint through the crowd to get there, but it’s ok because we’re laughing, bumping into each other as we run hand in hand, pulling each other along. We slip in just after the movie has started, and the only place to sit is in the very back row. It’s dark back there, private. No one will see if I lean in and steal a kiss then, finally. Would you let me?”

“Yes,” Eddie whispered. He hoped Steve couldn’t hear how wrecked his voice had become, because what the absolute fuck.

“Good,” Steve praised. “I’d like that. I’m good at it, too. Really good, I love kissing. Soft and slow, nothing urgent, just taking my time to taste you, just a little.”

“And then what?” Eddie asked, tremulously. 

“Oh, and then we’ll watch the movie,” Steve replied, so casually, shrugging his shoulders. His voice had changed back to normal, almost bored, like they were talking about what show to watch while they ate dinner, or whose turn it was to load the dishwasher. “Might get us some popcorn if you get hungry again, you’re like a bottomless pit sometimes, Eds, I swear.” 

“Popcorn, what?” Eddie blinked his eyes open, squinting into the bright overhead light. He hadn’t realized he’d shut them, having gotten lost somewhere along the way of Steve’s words and the picture he was painting so vividly in his mind. But Steve was sitting up then, yawning and running his hands through his hair to fluff up the back that had gotten flat from lying down. 

“It’s a movie date, Eds, of course there will be popcorn,” Steve teased, standing up and stretching his back so that his shirt rode up and Eddie could see the tempting line of hair that trailed down his stomach, beyond where his eyes could see. Stop it, Munson, that is your best friend. He pushed himself back upright on the bed, frowning.

“Ok, but then what happens, Steve? After the movie?”

Steve laughed lightly, booping him on the nose. “I guess that depends on how well I did on the date.”

Eddie pouted at him, shaking his head like he was trying to wake himself up from a beautiful dream he hadn’t wanted to leave. He still didn’t know what exactly all that had been, only that he was filled with a new kind of nervous energy now, one that was decidedly hungrier.

“Don’t worry, Eds, it’ll be alright,” Steve said, softer this time, more serious as he began to sense Eddie’s building anxiety. “It’s just a date, you’ve survived so much worse. And, if things go really bad, you can always text me. We can come up with something so I know you need me to get you out of there.”

“Like a code word?” Eddie asked, perking up. The thought did make him feel better.

“A safe word,” Steve replied with a cheeky little wink, his smile absolute sin. “Odie, maybe?”

Eddie gasped, clutching at his imaginary pearls. “Do not bring our son into this, Steven!” As though on cue, the cat sauntered into the room and began winding between Steve’s legs, looking hopefully between the two of them for food.

“Ok, what would you choose then?” Steve asked, his eyes bright with mirth and some kind of newly glowing affection that Eddie couldn’t quite place. 

“I already have a safe word,” Eddie huffed primly. “Cantaloupe.”

“Cantaloupe?” Steve barked out a surprised laugh, scaring the cat back out of the room. “What kind of a safe word is that?”

“I don’t know, it’s just what I picked! What’s yours, Steven, if you’re going to be so high and mighty about it — or does the Vanilla King not need one?”

“Ouch, not sure I like the promotion from King Steve to Vanilla King,” Steve grimaced, slumping back against the wall. “My word is plate.”

“Plate? And that’s better than cantaloupe, how?”

“Well, Eds, I’ve found that it takes just one plate to the head to know when you’re done,” Steve said sagely, before pushing off from the wall again and painting a bright smile on his face that didn’t quite seem to make it to his eyes. “But! Tonight isn’t about me, it’s about you and your date. Seriously, dude, it’ll be fine. Great, even! And if it isn’t?”

“Cantaloupe,” Eddie mimed texting with his fingers.

“Cantaloupe,” Steve nodded in agreement. “I’ll swoop in and save you.”

“My hero,” he fluttered his lashes, and Steve rolled his eyes, unaffected by Eddie’s moves. He turned to leave, calling back over his shoulder:

“You wish.”

***

The date began an hour later, and right off the bat it was going all wrong. Eddie met up with Bastian downtown, looping around and around trying to find parking, fighting the Saturday night crowd, until he was actually a few minutes late and then immediately rushed along with barely even a hello. Bastian said that there was a mixup with the times, and that they were now going to the movie first instead of to dinner. Well shit, everything Eddie and Steve had talked through went right out the window, and he felt immediately unsure again. There was no drawn out dinner conversation to flirt and get comfortable, there were no lingering glances over candlelight, no stolen little touches, teasing promises of more to come. 

Instead, it was just awkward. Eddie was embarrassingly out of breath when they got to the box office, and not in a cute way — red-faced and gasping when they barreled through the door, and he forgot to say thank you when Bastian paid for their tickets, which made him feel rude even though he hadn’t meant to do it, which then made him feel all the more uncomfortable. 

Then, there was the popcorn. Eddie loved his popcorn with extra butter, a box of Junior Mints dumped in — an abomination, Steve had called it, until he tried it and then proclaimed Eddie to be a movie popcorn genius, bestowing him with a big, smacking kiss right on his forehead like it was the best prize he could have asked for. Bastian, it turned out, liked his popcorn dry, which, after several torturous minutes of staring at each other dumbly, neither one willing to concede, resulted in separate tubs of popcorn. Eddie thought about sharing popcorn with Steve, their hands sliding together in the tub, slick with butter, smacking the other away, trying not to laugh. Stolen little touches, so easy to share with Steve, a world apart from where he found himself with Bastian.

It only got worse. By the time they got into the theater itself, most of the seats were already taken. The back row was, in fact, not the only one left open, instead they had to squeeze past half a row of people to get two of the last seats left right up front. Eddie hated sitting up front. He slid his long peacoat off, realizing then that Bastian wouldn’t even be able to appreciate his carefully constructed date night outfit in the darkness, and he slumped down into his seat, trying to pull himself out of his impending sulk. He hoped the movie was good, at least, something he could lose himself in for a few hours, to breathe and reset. 

The movie was not good. He hadn’t been paying attention when the tickets were bought, still huffing and puffing from their run over, but it was definitely not Eddie’s kind of flick. Some buddy comedy with a little too much reliance on making people that looked more like him than not the punch line, which he didn’t find funny in the least. And, worst of all, the absolute worst of all of it, was that Bastian was a movie talker, leaning into Eddie’s space and making observations loudly enough that everyone around them could hear. When he realized that Eddie wasn’t going to engage, he struck up a mid-movie conversation with the guy on the other side of him, who, it would seem, was also a movie talker. Eddie shot an apologetic glance at the others around them, and slunk down low in his seating, wishing he could hide. 

Steve was a great movie companion, he knew that Eddie liked to get swept up in the magic of it, knew just how close he could lean in to whisper only the most important observations into Eddie’s ear, the kind of things that made him smile and changed the experience for the better. Bastian and his new friend, however, joked and brayed along to the movie loudly while Eddie sat there, sweating, anxiety rising up his spine and down his limbs, settling in his jittery fingers and bouncing knee. He had to get up, had to move, had to expel some of the nervous energy and try to get his body back under his control.

“Bathroom,” Eddie whispered into Bastian’s ear, before launching himself up and out of his seat, squeezing past all of those same people again with hushed apologies. He booked it up the aisle and out the door, hurtling himself into the farthest bathroom down the hallway where, hopefully, he would be alone. Eddie locked himself into the back stall and reached for his phone. With shaking fingers, he pulled up the little golden crown pfp in his phone and hit the call button. 

Steve picked up before the first ring had even finished, like he had been waiting for it. “Eds? Cantaloupe?”

“Honeydew, uh, watermelon. Something definitely cantaloupe adjacent,” Eddie rambled without even saying hello. 

“What’s wrong, Eddie? Do you need me to come get you? I can be there in—”

“No, no, Steve,” Eddie breathed, slumping against the stall wall like it was the only thing holding him up, as he chuckled ruefully. “It’s nothing like that, man, stand down.”

“Then what is it, Munson, why are you calling me from…?”

“The bathroom,” Eddie confessed, laughing more easily now that he had Steve to drag him back out of his head. 

“Why are you calling me from the bathroom in the middle of your big date?” Steve sounded relieved at the sound of Eddie’s laughter, but still keyed up, tense, like he was about to jump out of his skin if he didn’t put his energy into some sort of action. Eddie could relate.

“Everything is going wrong,” Eddie sighed, pressing his forehead against the cool metal of the divider wall. “It’s like we started off on the wrong foot and can’t get out of that mismatched rhythm. He likes dry popcorn, Steve!”

He could hear Steve suck in a sympathetic, horrified breath, and it made Eddie laugh, shook off some of the nerves. 

“What’s going on really, Eds, did he do something?” Steve prompted gently.

“No, it’s all me, Stevie. It’s me. He hasn’t done anything, he’s been perfectly nice — paid for the movie, bought our snacks. It’s just…” He sighed, knew what he was about to say was going to make him look like the world’s biggest brat. “I hate the movie, Steve. It’s not good, and it’s not even bad in a good way! And even though the movie sucks, he keeps talking over it so I can’t hear what’s going on.”

“Oh no,” Steve said, and his voice was warm, understanding, and didn’t make Eddie feel like he was being too much of a diva.

“Plus, we have separate popcorn, so I can’t even play-fight with him over it!”

“Play-fighting over the popcorn is half the fun,” Steve agreed solemnly. 

“Right?! Uugh, it’s a disaster.”

“Sounds like it.”

“The worst part is, I know that it’s all fine. Bastian is fine, he’s not doing anything wrong. The problem is me. I’m the weird one, I can’t relax, I’m a fucking mess, Steve. I’m simply not made for dating I don’t think. I’m not special enough for all of this romantic shit.” Eddie concluded mournfully.

“Eddie,” Steve chided lightly. “Come on, I know you. You’re the kind of guy who always rolls with the punches and laughs at any little bump in the road. You only get like this when there is something you’re fixating on. Spill it.”

Some days it was less of a blessing and more of a curse how well Steve knew him. This was one of them, and Eddie told him so. Steve laughed, bright and happy, at the admission. “I do know you, I know you in almost every way, Eds. Just tell me what is really bothering you.”

That same little thrill was back suddenly, the rush of being flayed open and seen, that same nervous energy from before, when they were talking in his room. Eddie wiped the sweat from his free hand on the wool of his skirt, felt his blood thrumming restlessly in his veins beneath it. 

“What am I supposed to do if he tries to kiss me?” Eddie whispered, his voice cracking a little at the edges. “And what if he wants more, wants to actually see me, touch me. I don’t do it like that, Steve, how do I explain the scars? I need…”

“Eds.” Steve’s voice was tight, strangled. 

“I need you to tell me what comes next. What would you do if you were the one here with me on this date?”

Steve sucked in a breath, and Eddie could feel it, the air changing all around them. Charged and heated, something entirely out of his depth. It sent a shiver of static down his spine, a delicious prickling of anticipation all along his skin. 

“Where did I leave off?” Steve asked, his voice dropping low now, husky and rich.

“Y-you just kissed me,” Eddie stammered. He felt feverish, desperate. Depraved.

“Right,” Steve purred in a way that made Eddie’s knees go weak. “Kissing. Just a little, tiny bit of tongue, tiny bit of teeth, but lingering, yeah? Enough to make you know you wanted more. And then I would stop.”

Eddie made a broken noise, loud in the empty room, couldn’t stop himself from making it. He could picture it, could picture Steve leaning in, his eyes reflecting the light from the screen in front of them as he slid his tongue along the seam of Eddie’s lips and ruined him to anyone that came after. 

“I’d stop, because I’m a gentleman, and because you are special, Eds, and you deserve to be treated softly and gently, with all of that romantic shit.” Eddie felt like he was going to cry, openly sob there like a child at the firm, sure way that Steve was handling him, like he was some precious thing, something that deserved a soft kind of love. “So, we’d sit through the movie — an adventure movie, something magical, I’d never take you to some lame fucking comedy because I know you — and the anticipation of what comes next would be there, but just in the background. Exciting, something to look forward to. I’d have for sure gotten one big popcorn for us to share, let you put in as much butter as you liked.”

“You’re such a tease,” Eddie laughed. His brain was static, needed input.

“Would you need more, Eds?” Steve breathed. “I can do that. Maybe we’d pick up where we left off at the restaurant, I’ll rest my hand on your knee, drag my fingertips up, up, so soft. Lingering a little close to where you want it, but never touching.”

“Please touch me, Steve,” Eddie gasped; he hadn’t quite meant to say it, hadn’t yet decided if they were really doing this, but his own hand was traveling down the front of his skirt, finding himself hard beneath it. His blood was on fire, and god, he needed it.

“Not yet,” Steve chided, then gentled his voice. “You deserve more than some rushed handjob at the back of the movie theater, Eddie. I’d want to give you so much more than that.”

Jesus H. Christ.

“Tell me,” Eddie groaned, palming at himself through the rough wool. It wasn’t enough.

“Pushy,” Steve chuckled breathlessly. “That’s ok, I like it. The movie would end and I’d drive you home, and the tension in the car would be so thick we’d both be able to feel it. All night long the conversation would have been flowing, because I can talk to you for hours and never get bored, Eds, but in that car, it’s just… quiet. But a good quiet, you know? Comfortable. Exciting. I might play something on the radio, and you’ll complain that it’s too ‘pop,’ but you won’t mean it. Then finally, we’ll pull up outside of your house and I’ll ask if I can come inside. I’ll say it’s just for a cup of coffee, because I know you make the best coffee in town, but we’ll both know what I really want.”

“And what’s that?” Eddie did know, but he needed to hear him say it.

“You,” Steve rasped out, and god, he sounded every bit as wrecked as Eddie felt. An alarm bell was going off somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, reminding him that this was his friend, and of one other detail that needed asking. 

“Steve, you’re straight,” he interrupted, faltering a little, not wanting to stop, not now that he was so close to the one thing he wanted most in the world, but he had to ask.

“This is your fantasy, not mine, Eds,” Steve whispered the words, but they didn’t sound reluctant, didn’t sound unwilling. All that Eddie could hear was want mirrored back to him, a perfect reflection of his own desire. 

“Keep going,” he pleaded, not caring anymore if this was good or right or wise, because he needed more, needed everything Steve could give him. “Don’t stop.”

“I’d kiss you as soon as the door was closed, like I’ve wanted to all night. Press you right up against it and kiss you like you deserve, hot and passionate and so good, Eddie, it would be so fucking good.”

“I wouldn’t be able to wait. I’d drag you to the bedroom right then and there. Fuck that cup of coffee you said you wanted.”

“Mm, normally I would have to punish you for being greedy, baby, but not this time. I’d want it just as much as you did. Fuck the coffee, Eds, need to touch you right now.”

“Steve—”

“I know you’d be worried about your body, Eds, worried what I’ll think. But there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’d stand you there in the moonlight and pull your shirt off over your head, slide that skirt — that goddamned skirt, Eddie, I swear I almost ripped it off you with my teeth the first time I saw it. Are you wearing anything under it?”

“No.” Eddie let out a shaky breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding directly into the speaker so that Steve could hear it. He heard Steve inhale quickly in response, could imagine how his pupils would have blown wide at the sound.

“I’d slide that skirt down your legs and then I’d just take a minute to look at you. Just look, maybe run my fingers across your skin, press my palm over your heart, just to feel it beating. You’re so beautiful, Eddie, so insanely perfect, you have no idea. Your scars, they glow silver in the moonlight, did you know that? They’re powerful, a part of you, they show how strong you are. I love your scars, because they mean you survived, we both did. They’re us, Eds, don’t want anyone else to get to see them like this.”

“Steve, what should I do?” Eddie asked. Needed Steve to tell him. 

“Your hands,” Steve gasped, and it sounded like his carefully constructed semblance of control was at the breaking point. It was hot to hear Steve unraveling like this, because of a silly bit of gray wool worn low on Eddie’s waist. “Use them like they’re me. Close your eyes.”

Eddie did. He placed the palm of his free hand square on his chest, could feel his heartbeat rabbiting beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, exactly like Steve had said. “Ok.”

“Now I want you to move, slide your hand across your chest so that your fingers graze your nipple. Does that feel good?”

“Mm,” Eddie hummed into the phone. 

“Good, Eds, so good. Now trail it down, follow the line of your body hair. Stop before you touch anything important.”

Steve was breathing heavily on the other end, and Eddie did as he was told, dragging his hand down the front of himself and stopping just above where the dark thatch of curls began beneath the thick, woolen fabric of his skirt. Fuck, he had to do something about that, and Eddie scrambled, placing the phone down on top of the chrome toilet paper dispenser and hiking the skirt up, tucking the hem of it into the waistband so that his hands had free access to his already leaking cock. 

The air felt cool where he was now exposed to it, but thrilling, too, while he waited for his next orders. 

Eddie could hear a shuffling in the background on Steve’s end, the creak of a bedspring where he thought maybe Steve was adjusting himself, getting comfortable. He could hear Steve’s breathing, heavy and hot, panting into the receiver and it sent goosebumps of excitement all up and down his spine. He ached for more, needed more, was so close to coming already, but still, he waited. 

Finally, after what felt like forever, Steve was back, voice on speaker, echoing around the small, enclosed space.

“You ready, Eds?” Steve asked softly, and Eddie could hear the other, unspoken question he asked with it. Is this ok, Eddie? Do you want this? Do you want me?

“Yes, yeah, Steve. God, I want you so much, sweetheart.”

“So perfect, Eddie, so good for me. Now, I want you to take yourself in hand, just lightly, and stroke slowly. Are you wet already, baby?”

“Christ, yeah Steve. I’m leaking so much for you.”

“Good, that’s so good. Use that, get yourself nice and wet all over. If you need more, Eddie… Eddie, I want you to lick your hand. Pretend it’s me.”

Eddie shuddered and did it, licking a broad stripe up his own palm and wrapping his hand around his aching dick. He moved his fist up the length once, and groaned loudly with relief at the feel of it. On the other end of the line, Steve responded in kind, the noise he made was something that would haunt Eddie for a lifetime. 

“Fuck, I’m not going to last long,” Steve gritted out, and Eddie had to chuckle because, yeah, same. “You’re doing so well, Eddie. Now, quickly, tell me how you like it. What would you want me to do to make it good for you?”

“Mouth, Steve,” Eddie gasped, barely able to get the words out as he envisioned it, stroking his hand faster up and down, twisting hard over the leaking tip. “I want to see that gorgeous, pink mouth of yours on me.”

“Yeah, ok, god Eddie, yes please.” Steve sounded incredible, voice husky and wanton and so fucking eager to please, and Eddie would have given anything to be able to see him just then, how flushed he got at the mere prospect of sucking Eddie’s dick. “I bet you taste so good, can’t even imagine anything tasting better than you. Pretend my mouth is on you, does it feel good, Eds? Do you like it?”

“I like it, Stevie,” he whispered, trembling as his eyes squeezed shut so tight he saw stars behind them, just trying to picture it. Steve on his knees, for him . “You’d look so good, fuck, I never thought I could get so lucky.”

“Would you want to come like this, or would you want more?”

Eddie rasped out a low, desperate noise as the movement of his hand picked up its pace. His mind scrambled, trying to picture it. “More,” he said, finally, barely even able to get the word out. 

“Would you let me fuck you, Eds?” Steve panted, voice tremulous. 

The words hit him like a freight train, and his hand still while his mind raced a mile a minute. Would he? That wasn’t something that he had ever done, had ever wanted to do. Eddie had had a lot of sex in his life, but with his sort of casual, quick hookup, it was always a certain kind of flavor. There was never time for him to learn to trust enough, to let himself be vulnerable in that way, but with Steve… Steve knew him, all of him, and maybe, just maybe…

Besides, none of this was real anyway, just a sweet moment of insanity that the two of them found themselves caught up in together.  

“Yes.” The word punched out of him with a force stronger than any he had known before. “Yes, Steve, please fuck me, I need you to.”

“Oh my god, Eddie, please,” Steve moaned, loudly, his voice rough and broken with desire. “Ok, ok, fuck, ok. I’d have you in my mouth, taking you as deep as I could go, and I wouldn’t stop until you were right on the edge of coming, then I’d pull off.”

Eddie moaned, he could picture it, could imagine how it would feel to be left wanting, dick wet with spit and precome, aching, body needing more. Willing to do anything, even if it meant letting himself be taken in a way he never had before. 

“I’d lay you out under me, Eds, and take my time, kissing and touching and learning every part of you. All of the secrets of your body that I haven’t been able to know before now. You’re so beautiful, I’ve never seen anyone who glows like you do. Would you…” Steve trailed off, and Eddie could imagine the way he must be biting his lip, anxious, like this was a line he didn’t know if he could cross. “Would you let me kiss you again, even now? It wouldn’t be too much?”

“Yes.” He said it instantly, without hesitation. It wasn’t a yes to kissing, it was a yes to anything, everything. Eddie knew that he would give Steve all of him, if he only asked for it, consequences and feelings and all the love he’d been carrying in his heart for this man be damned.

“I would kiss you, kiss you so softly, really take my time to undo you with my mouth, my tongue. And then when I have you almost begging for it, I’d start to open you up.”

Eddie keened, imagining it. He’d never had fingers other than his own inside of him before, but he wanted it then more than he’d ever wanted anything. He could picture Steve’s elegant hands, his long, graceful fingers, and the gentle way that they cared for everyone he loved.

“Steve,” Eddie cried, body thrumming, and he could feel it, could feel the careful breach, the slow, loving way that Steve would handle him, knew in an instant how it would feel as his body allowed him to finally slip inside. 

“Say it, Eds,” Steve gasped. “Say what you want me to do.”

“Fuck, Steve, please. Please, I need you to fuck me. You’d be the first, the only one I would give myself to like this.”

“Eddie, oh holy shit, you can’t just say things like that to me,” Steve wailed, breath so loud it was like he was there with him in that bathroom stall. “I would, Christ, I would. I’d fuck you, make it so good you’d never go back. Would you want me behind you, or—”

“Face to face, Steve, I need to see you. You have the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen, wanna watch what you look like when you come. So fucking perfect, my Stevie, fuck, sweetheart. ”

“Ok, Eds, fuck yes. I’d get you nice and ready for me and then just when you felt like you were about to fall apart on my fingers I’d stop and kiss you slow and deep and then finally, fuck, finally, I’d slide inside of you. God, you’d feel so good, Eddie, so tight, so good for me. Never felt anything—”

Steve faltered, voice trailing off, and all Eddie could hear was his breathing, and the wet, sweet sound of Steve’s hand moving over himself. He could hear it well enough to get a feel for the rhythm and the pace of it, and changed his own movements to match, drawing the pleasure out with each delicious pull. They moved in tandem, lost in feeling, breathing hotly into their phones and the sound of it wrecked him, knowing that he was the reason why Steve was gasping, desperate for breath, that he was the reason Steve was coming apart at the seams. 

“Don’t stop, Steve, fuck, I’m so close.”

A low chuckle rumbled over the other end of the line, filled with a delicious mirth that Eddie wanted to put in a jar to save for always, a little treat just for him. “Do you still think I’m vanilla, Eds?” Steve rasped through his laugh. “Say it. I want to hear you say what you want me to do. I want you to beg me for it.”

Eddie shuddered, an earthquake rolling straight through his core as the pressure was building and building, nearly intolerable. He could feel his release coiling in his belly, burning hot and urgent and he knew that only Steve could get him there. 

“Please, Steve, I need it. I need you to fuck me, fuck me hard, make me come apart on your cock. I want to feel you everywhere, make me come.”

“You want that, Eddie? Would it feel so good for you? So right, like it does for me, ah fuck, Eddie—”

“This is the only thing I’ve ever wanted, just you, just y— Steve!” Eddie came, the force of it taking him entirely by surprise as his body curled forward into the sensation, his moan echoing off of the metal walls of the bathroom stall. Distantly, he thought he could hear Steve crying out his name on the other end of the line, and then there was only static buzzing in his ears and the sound of Steve’s slowly calming breath.

Eddie blinked his eyes open and cast around the small space, surveying the wreckage that lay before him. He’d had just enough presence of mind in the heat of the moment to aim away from himself, from his carefully crafted date night look, but the result was, well…

“Steve,” he rasped.

“Mm?”

“I jizzed on the bathroom wall.”

Steve made a shrill, hysterical sounding noise that began to build into something that resembled a howling, full-body laugh. “Jesus Christ, Eddie, Jesus Christ,” he wheezed over and over between bouts of laughter, and Eddie found that he was helpless to it as well, until they were both rolling, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide and tears running down his face in that moment of perfect, unhinged joy. It was more than he had smiled all night with Bastian or, he thought, maybe with anyone else ever. He was so fucked.

“Eds,” Steve said softly, when their laughter had died down to a low, pleasant simmer. “Sounds like you’re more relaxed now. Better get back to your date. I hope I helped you get out of your head so you can enjoy it.”

Steve sounded a little sad, a little estranged, and Eddie didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what was up or down or right or wrong, and he didn’t know how to fix this. He knew then what he wanted, what he really wanted of the life they had made together, but he also knew it was impossible. And so, instead, he let himself simply say goodbye. 

Phone call ended, clothes straightened, stall wall washed with soap and warm water and as many shitty bathroom paper towels as he could grab, Eddie walked on shaking legs back into the theater. It felt like he had been gone a lifetime, it felt like a sea-change had happened, a critical, essential shift within him, when in reality he had only been gone about ten minutes. Bastian hadn’t missed him. 

They finished the movie, but Eddie had lost the plot. Bastian continued to howl with laughter and chat with their neighbor while Eddie mindlessly dipped his hand into his lonely popcorn bucket for one, trying to ignore the distances that were already forming between them. Trying not to let himself think.  

Once the credits had rolled, Bastian said goodbye to his new friend on the other side of them and they filed out into the early February cold, both men huffing out little gasps of surprise as their breath turned visible and light snow dusted their lashes and hair. Bastian smiled at him, guileless and sweet, and reached for Eddie’s leather coat, pulling it tighter around him. Then he pulled the scarf off of his own neck and wound it around Eddie, looping it so that it was snug and warm, and Eddie buried the lower half of his face in it so that no one could see the way his mouth tugged down. It was such a simple, thoughtful gesture, but despite the potential to be had there, Eddie felt his heart crack open with such longing for a person that Bastian would never, ever be. He could see it all so clearly in that moment, how dangerously essential Steve had become in his life, how he’d let it happen, tying himself to something ephemeral and elusive that wouldn’t last. He realized then that he would have to choose: continue pining for the one thing he could never really have, not in all the ways he wanted him, or sever this part of himself so that the rest of him could be free.

And Bastian was sweet. 

Sweeter than Eddie deserved, all things considered. He tutted over the snow in Eddie’s hair, over Eddie being too cold in his skirt (rather missing the point of the skirt altogether, Eddie thought, but the sentiment was nice); winding his arm through Eddie’s to walk close, side by side, past the little shops and all the other people out on a Saturday night. They chatted as they walked, and Bastian really was such a catch. He didn’t seem to mind Eddie’s stilted answers, chalking it up to the cold as he picked up the pace, ushering Eddie along to the little bistro he’d made a reservation at for dinner. Eddie didn’t mean to be rude, but his mouth was on autopilot as his mind spiraled, trying to find his way out of the mess he’d made. Ten minutes was all it took to blow up his whole, entire life and the most important relationship he had in it. 

Bastian was sweet. Bastian was nice and funny and easy, if Eddie could just let go. 

Steve was everything…

But Steve wasn’t the one who had asked Eddie out, who actually wanted Eddie. Bastian was.

Right. Head in the game, Munson. 

They got to the restaurant, and exactly like Steve had predicted, the place was packed. Despite their reservation, they had to wait for a table, standing awkwardly in the entryway, trying not to be too much in the way as people went in and out of the place. Bastian seemed annoyed, peevish about having to wait, despite the expected chaos of a brand new restaurant all around them, and Eddie felt bad for whoever their future waiter would be, hoping that the delay was not taken out on them. 

After about ten vaguely tense and uncomfortable minutes, they were shown to their table. The place was nice, but modern, bright, shining and new — cold, Eddie thought, for a date. Nothing like the cozy hidden corners and low lighting of the date Steve had conjured for them back in Eddie’s bedroom. They sat across from each other, legs carefully tucked to the sides so they weren’t in each other’s space, as they considered their menus. A harried-looking waiter came over to greet them, and Bastian ordered a bottle of white for the table. Eddie hid his frown behind his menu — he hated white wine, but really, how bad could it be? He could manage for the sake of the date, couldn’t he? It was nice to be treated and tended to, this wasn’t a bad thing. 

“Would you like any appetizers?”

“No,” Bastian said, just as Eddie had answered, “yes.” They stared at each other across the table, both startled by the other, like they had never seen each other before until that very moment. The waiter looked annoyed, clearly did not have time for these first date jitters, and announced curtly, “I’ll go get that wine and give you two a minute to decide,” before rushing off to the next table. 

“So, what are you thinking for an appetizer then?” Bastian hazarded, scanning the menu. “The calamari looks good, I love that rubbery texture, don’t you?”

Eddie laughed more than the weak joke deserved, willing his nerves to abate. It was just dinner, he could do this. Had, in fact, successfully managed to eat a meal without embarrassing himself many times over. “As appealing as that sounds, I can’t eat gluten and the calamari is breaded. Arancini?”

Bastian frowned a little before recovering. “Whatever you want, Eddie, my treat.” 

Their waiter returned and Bastian ordered the arancini, along with the linguini and clams in white wine for himself.

“And for you, sir?” The waiter, Alex, asked. 

“I’ll have the tajarin al ragu, please,” Eddie said, grimacing at the man, well aware that he was likely botching the Italian as he read it from the menu. “Oh! With the gluten free pasta, please.” 

“Very good,” Alex replied, giving Eddie a sympathetic look as he collected their menus and whisked away back to the kitchen to place their order. 

Bastian frowned, a small, disappointed thing. “That ragu doesn’t go with the wine we ordered.” As though they had ordered it, and not just Bastian, deciding without asking.

“Oh, uh,” Eddie scrambled, feeling a little stupid even though he knew that wasn’t how Bastian had meant it. He hated feeling out of his depth, his humble upbringing in sharp contrast to the wine and cheese set that this restaurant was clearly skewed towards. He plastered on his best, shit-eating Eddie Munson smile, grinning broadly across the table at his date. “Not very cultured, me. Usually a PBR and a Jack kind of guy — rough around the edges, it’s part of my charm.”

Bastian smiled indulgently at him, clearly falling for the facade as Eddie had intended. So why did it hurt so much, then? “I suppose you’re right,” he laughed brightly. “I’ve never met someone so unapologetically themself before.”

He said it like Eddie was unique, like this was a quality he liked, but it felt wrong, off in some way, like the compliment didn’t quite hit, wasn’t quite intended to be fully sincere. Eddie was about to open his mouth to ask if that meant he could order the cocktail he would have preferred, or at least a glass of red, to pair with his pasta, when Bastian reached across the table to pour a glass of the white for Eddie, and said, teasingly:

“Besides, it’s never too late to teach an old dog new tricks.”

Eddie forced a laugh because he knew he had to. He understood rationally that Bastian hadn’t meant it in any sort of way, but still, in rankled at him. He didn’t want to be taught new tricks, he wanted his date to know him, to like him as he was, rough edges and all, and to not make him feel bad about it. 

“And you think you’re the one to tame me?” Eddie shot back, forced smile dazzling as he picked up the wine glass and slung back its contents in one long gulp. He didn’t let Bastian see his distaste.

“You’re terrible, Eddie Munson,” his date volleyed back, but his smile, too, was a little tense. 

The arancini arrived just in time, and they both picked at it in a less comfortable silence, conversation dwindling to simple, food-related small talk. Eddie could feel his confidence diminish, could feel himself beginning to shrink. He’d looked so forward to this date, was so excited to have someone like him enough to actually want to put in the effort of taking him out and making him feel special. Only to discover that he still felt just as lonely as he ever had, even while on the date itself. 

Their entrees arrived and they smelled incredible, even Bastian’s, despite the white wine — it was fragrant with garlic and butter and lemon and Eddie’s mouth watered. 

“Yours smells amazing,” he confessed, laughing ruefully at his comparatively standard sausage ragu. “Almost wish we could trade.”

Bastian smiled, seeing a clear opening to regain their footing. He twirled some of the linguine onto his fork, sopping up the rich sauce and holding it over the table to Eddie. “Care for a little nibble?”

Eddie responded immediately, he knew how to play this game; gave him a flirtatious little nod, fluttering his lashes a bit for effect as he leaned over the table and allowed his mouth to drop open invitingly. But just as the pasta was about to pass his lips, he pulled back suddenly, smearing butter and lemon across his cheek in a distinctly unattractive way. 

“Wait, did you get the gluten free pasta?” He asked, wiping at his cheek awkwardly with his napkin. 

“No, it doesn’t have the same mouth feel,” Bastian complained, his arm dropping back down to the table as they stared at each other glumly. 

“The same mouthfeel, what does that even mean?” Eddie asked, and that was it. That was the moment when it all clicked into place with startling clarity. Steve would have known that Eddie hated buddy comedies. He would have known that Eddie didn’t like white wine, or that he would choose a cheesy appetizer over anything that’s best quality was described as rubbery. Hell, Steve would have been the first to make a “the only kind of rubber Eddie likes” joke. And Steve, who had no dietary restrictions, would always, had always without fail, known to order the gluten free option so that they could share. Because he knew Eddie, because he saw Eddie, because he cared more about Eddie than he ever did about mouthfeel. Steve was right there, showing him in a hundred little ways that he was everything Eddie had been looking for, and if he didn’t take his chance and act on it, he would regret it for the rest of his life. 

Eddie felt terrified anew, full circle back to where he had begun his evening — butterflies in his stomach, sweaty palms, bouncing knee. It was something like hope, something like hunger, and something like fear, all tangled up into something that felt a lot like love, sitting there in his chest, waiting to find out his fate.

But first, he had to get through that damned, interminable, fucking, fucking date!

Their plates were cleared and Alex the waiter was back with a dessert menu. Eddie had every intention of getting it over with, but, well, he always had had a sweet tooth, and the place had budino, his absolute favorite — butterscotch and chocolate, what wasn’t there to love? Without hesitation, Eddie ordered the pudding for them to share; call it a last-ditch effort to see if there was a spark, call it his insatiable love for butterscotch, call it a sugary stalling tactic before he had to go home and actually talk to Steve, he ordered it. Bastian made a little surprised sound that was decidedly not excited about the budino and immediately ordered a cannoli for himself. Eddie hated cannoli and, again, the gluten. Yep. Right. Final nail in the coffin, noted.

They ate their separate desserts with their separate spoons and never before had butterscotch left him feeling so unsatisfied. 

Bastian paid, pretended not to notice as Eddie slipped a few additional bills in to pad the tip of their harried, hustling waiter, and walked Eddie back to his car. They made idle small talk along the way, and it wasn’t uncomfortable or unpleasant, it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t the thing that songs were written about, that certain mysterious something that made him lay awake at night, running the lyrics around and around in his mind, wondering when someone would come along with the key to finally unlock their meaning to him. He did understand them then, all those love songs, and in understanding, he also knew with certainty that it would never be Bastian, for him. 

They stood facing each other at the door of his car, shifting their weight from foot to foot as they struggled to know what to say. Finally, with a clearing of his throat, Bastian dove in. “Tonight was really fun, Eddie. If you’re interested, I—”

“Bastian,” Eddie interrupted gently, his face screwing up with a mixture of sheepishness and embarrassment and regret. “Thank you for tonight, you’re the sweetest guy. I think anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Anyone else besides you, though,” Bastian finished for him, and it wasn’t angry or bitter, it was simply a fact, accompanied by a rueful smile. 

“I’m sorry, but I think I realized something tonight that I hadn’t been able to see before,” Eddie confessed, laying his cards on the table for all to see. “So thank you for that. I know it wasn’t the result you probably hoped for when you asked me out, but for my part, I really needed it. And I hope you find someone that isn’t me, who can give you back everything you’re looking for. Because you deserve it, Bastian, truly.”

“Thank you, Eddie. We’re good, man, I get it. Honestly, I’m not surprised.”

“I hope we can still be friends?” Eddie didn’t want to have to find a new record store, after all. 

“Of course! Don’t be shy, Munson, come find me the next time you’re in the shop.”

“I will, promise,” He felt lighter than he had in hours, suddenly so excited and nervous and sure about going home. Eddie climbed into his car and rolled the window down to give one final smile goodbye. “Goodnight, Bastian.” 

“Goodnight, Eddie. Oh, and hey, do one thing for me?”

“Name it.”

“Tell Steve I said ‘you’re welcome,’” Bastian winked at him knowingly as Eddie’s mind fried and his cheeks flooded pink. 

“That obvious, huh?”

“Dude, they can see the way you look at him from space,” Bastian chuckled ruefully, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I almost didn’t ask you out in the first place because of it, but then I figured, might as well shoot my shot, you know?”

“I’m glad you did.” And Eddie was, more than he could ever say. “Really.”

They shared one last genuine smile before Bastian turned to walk back towards his own car. Then, slowing, he turned back, calling over his shoulder. 

“Hey Eddie? For what it’s worth, he looks at you the same way.”

“What way?” Eddie was afraid of the answer, but he had to know for sure before he went home and upended everything in their lives. 

“Astronauts. Space. Like you’re the whole goddamned universe, man.”

“Right. Right. Yep, ok, gotta go. Thanks for everything, Bastian.” Eddie buckled his seatbelt and pealed out, rolling the window up as he went, but not before he heard the laughing shout after him, “Don't’ forget to invite me to the wedding!” Asshole. 

***

Eddie drove home, just on the wrong side of legal, because he could not wait a single extra second to actually start his life — really start it — if everything he was feeling was correct. 

Steve, his Steve, right there in front of him the whole time, patiently waiting, building their life. His home, his baseline, his stability. Steve, Eddie’s extraordinary, everyday revelation. A contradiction in terms, but true nonetheless. 

He pulled up outside of their house and parked in his spot next to the BMW. Eddie had never felt so sure in his life, as he stood tall, climbing out of the car and stalking toward the house confidently. He wanted Steve, he closed the door to their home behind him and locked it. He needed to tell Steve, he hung his leather coat up on the hook next to Steve’s soft corduroy and dropped his keys in the bowl. He was going to kiss Steve, he walked down the hallway past the pictures they had hung together of their whole chosen family, the family they had found and built  together without realizing that’s what they were doing, and he squared his shoulders as he faced the door to Steve’s room. One knock, two, and then he slowly turned the knob, letting himself slip into the darkness to confess something so big that it had the potential to change both of their lives irrevocably. 

“Steve?” Eddie called out, softly, not wanting to scare him if he had already gone to bed. He felt bad enough for waking him, but this thing that was sitting on his chest couldn’t wait. “You awake, sweetheart?”

There was no answer. He shuffled nervously toward the bed, running a trembling hand up the blanket searching for an ankle to gently wrap his fingers around, or a leg to shake. He didn’t find one. Finally, he made his way up to the head of the bed, and reached for the little lamp beside it, flicking it on to reveal that the room was empty. The bed was cold and Steve was gone. 

Eddie’s stomach dropped and his heart sank; he sat down on the edge of the mattress and buried his face in his hands, allowing exactly one small noise to escape his throat, a hurt, wounded thing. Steve was gone, had left, after their phone call. He hadn’t waited, Eddie had been so sure that he would. The room smelled fresh, minty, like Steve’s herbal body wash, and the air was still a little humid. He had obviously showered, gotten himself ready, but for what? 

The realization hit him all at once, a horrifying clarity as he pictured Steve, turned on and revved up after that call, knowing that Eddie was out somewhere else with someone else. Of course Steve wouldn’t just be sitting around waiting for Eddie to come home. Of course Steve Harrington, the most breathtaking, incredible man he had ever known, would have pulled himself up and taken himself out to find somebody of his own. Eddie wasn’t special, merely a means to an end, and he ached with this knowledge. That he wasn’t enough, that he was too late. 

On trembling legs, his adrenaline still pumping with nowhere to go, he pulled himself up off the bed and smoothed out the comforter so nothing was disturbed. He switched off the light and surrounded himself in darkness again, finding his way back out of Steve’s room through muscle memory alone, closing the door quietly behind him. Eddie went all through their house, making sure everything was locked up tight, leaving a lamp on in the living room for when Steve stumbled home, and then trudged back towards his bedroom, heart heavy, body tired. 

He slipped inside and rested his forehead against the door for a brief moment, squeezing his eyes shut tight and wishing that his life weren’t such a joke. With a broken sigh, Eddie kicked off his boots in the vague direction of his closet and made his way through the dark to his bed. He flung himself down pathetically onto the mattress, not even bothering to turn on the light; his room didn’t deserve to bear witness to the single greatest pity party in the history of mankind that he was about to embark upon. He could face the sad four walls of this happy home he’d made and lost in the morning, but tonight was for—

“Ow, fuck!”

Eddie hadn’t landed on his mattress, he’d landed down hard on something decidedly more solid, with boney knees and elbows and shoulders and a head. A head with a nose that the back of his own head had pummeled into with a concerning crunch. 

“Shit, what the fuck?” Eddie yelped, pulling back so fast that he nearly toppled off the side of the bed. Two big hands caught him, grabbing at his arms and pulling him forward into the darkness until he landed sprawled out on top of the form on his mattress. 

“That’s the last time I decide to surprise a guy in bed,” came the rich, laughing voice from somewhere just in front of Eddie’s face, if only his eyes would catch up and adjust to the low light. 

“Steve?” Eddie asked, hands braced on either side of a pair of broad shoulders, knees scrambling to hold his weight up and off of Steve’s warm body no matter how much his instincts were begging him to press down, to grind into, to feel everywhere. “Wh-what are you doing in my bed?”

A low chuckle then, raspy, sexy, like he was teasing the answer to a secret that Eddie had only heard rumors of. “Do you think I was going to be able to just look you in the eye tomorrow morning over breakfast after that phone call? Eddie, why do you think I’m in your bed?”

“You… want sex?”

“Getting warmer.”

“With… me?”

“Warmer still,” Steve chuckled fondly.

“Steve…”

”Yeah?”

“Steve, you’re straight!” His voice was shrill and squeaky, bursting forth from his chest like a tidal wave of fear and desire, confusion and need all combined into one high-pitched sound. 

“Eddie, I’m laying in your bed without any clothes on after having full blown phone sex with you a few hours ago. I’d say maybe I’m not as straight as you seem to think I am.” 

“You… don’t have any clothes on?” Great, just when Eddie thought his voice couldn’t get any squeakier. He shook his head, loosening the cobwebs, willing himself to concentrate, to get the words right. “Wait, that’s not fair, I’m trying to focus here. So, you’re…?”

“Bisexual, Eds. And don’t worry, this isn’t a new thing, I already had my whole bisexual crisis with Robin before she left. I’m good, Eddie. We’re good. This thing? It’s… it’s good.”

“And you didn’t think your gay best friend would have wanted to know about this realization?”

“Well, see, that's the thing. My gay best friend is kind of the reason behind the realization . ”

Eddie’s mind spun, it reeled, it left his body and reached some higher plane as he processed this information. Robin had moved out a year ago, so Steve had known for all that time, not just that he liked men, but that he liked Eddie in particular. Three hundred and sixty five goddamned days, wasted? A tiny noise fell from his lips, somewhere between frustration and despair, and Steve immediately reached for him blindly, finding his face and cupping both his cheeks. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? All this time, Steve,” he whispered, overwhelmed.

“I didn’t know how to tell you, Eds. I was really scared of ruining everything, and our life has been so good this past year. I didn’t know how you would react or if you even wanted me back.”

“That's ridiculous, Steve,” Eddie said flatly, thoroughly unimpressed with Steve’s caution.

“That’s what Robin said,” Steve laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. Eddie could picture him, laying there, biting his lip as he agonized over his choices, and Steve wasn’t built for deep, mournful contemplation; he was built for action. He was built to love and be loved. No more retreating, Eddie Munson, the time had come to act. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, Steve.” A statement. An inevitability. Eddie leaned in, until their noses bumped together somewhere in the middle, and he could feel Steve’s warm breath across his cheeks, could almost taste the salt from his skin already. 

“Finally,” Steve sighed, lips brushing with the words and how close they were, and Eddie could feel his curling smile growing there. He pressed in, crossing the final threshold that they’d erected between them.

The kiss was soft, careful, the kind of chaste thing that belied the width and the breadth of it, the full depth of the feeling it held. It was nothing more than a press of lips before they parted, the soft sound of their mouths separating loud in the absolute silence of the house as they hung there, frozen in time, breathing each other’s air. And then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they each pressed in again, and it was anything but chaste. 

They crashed together, lips opening and teeth clacking, tongues meeting for the first time in a frantic, greedy dance. Steve’s lips were every bit as full and soft as Eddie had imagined, and he had imagined, but the kiss was so much better, so much fiercer, hungrier. Steve was good at it just like he’d said he was, taking Eddie apart with little more than a deft slide into his mouth, a sharp nip of his teeth, and god, Eddie thought he could kiss only Steve Harrington until the day he died and be a happy man. A whimper rose up from the back of his throat, and Steve growled — growled — in response, only to kiss him deeper.

Eddie was still braced over Steve’s body, and he wasn’t sure what to do with everything he was feeling within him, where that line was. He wanted to put his hands on Steve Harrington. He wanted to drop his weight and feel the rise and fall of Steve’s body against his. He wanted to learn every inch of this man, with fingers and tongue, all the beauty that had been denied to him for so long, and he wanted it more than breathing. He doubled down on the kiss, pulling out all the stops as he tangled his fingers into Steve’s hair, tugging it firmly at the root to tilt Steve’s face up at an angle that pleased him, as he licked back into that perfect mouth and savored the new way it made Steve moan. 

Responding instantly, Steve’s hands found Eddie’s waist and pulled down sharply, throwing him off his precarious balance, and guiding Eddie to lie flush against him. Eddie keened with the sudden contact, moving to kiss down Steve’s long neck, stopping to suck a mark under his ear at the same moment as he ground his hips forward experimentally. He could feel Steve everywhere, across every part of him, the firm muscle and the soft give of skin, his heat, his hardness. It was intoxicating, thrilling, addicting.

Steve’s hands began to roam, running paths along Eddie’s body, not shying away from anything they wanted to touch. He dragged his blunt nails down the length of Eddie’s back until he arrived at his ass, and then both of Steve’s big hands settled there and squeezed, pulling Eddie in more, grinding their hips together with clear intent. The direct press of Steve’s dick against his own sent a jolt all through Eddie’s body, and he inhaled sharply through his nose, pulling his mouth from Steve’s neck to kiss him again wetly. Their hips found a rhythm, working against each other in a slow, steady roll, and it was hot, it was obscene, the room filling up with the slick sound of their mouths giving and taking of each other, and the groans they elicited with each thrust and roll of their bodies. 

Eddie pulled back for a moment, panting for breath, when suddenly Steve caught him off guard, surging forward to wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist and rolling them. Eddie let out a soft, surprised little oof, trying to regain his bearings as he lay there, flat on his back and beneath Steve. Steve, whose hands raked down his body then, touching everywhere; hands sliding up under his shirt, then dragging down again to fumble with the fastening of Eddie’s skirt. Eddie blinked up into the darkness, overwhelmed and excited and wanting to give himself entirely, but his mind was buzzing with one last question he had to ask. He raised a hand and pressed it flat against Steve’s chest, with just enough pressure to pause his movements. 

“Steve,” he rasped, heart pounding wildly as he gathered all his courage. “Just for clarification before this goes any further, I have to know. Is… is this just a sex thing, or…” He drew out the last word, letting it trail off and fall between them, agonizing over the beat of silence that had sprung up in its wake as they just lay there, looking at each other. 

In the low, hazy light of the streetlamp through the window, he could only just see the way Steve’s face changed, suddenly soft, but fierce, hazel eyes bright and pupils blown wide. Steve’s lips were red and wet and swollen from kissing, and there was a high pink spread across his cheeks. His hair was a mess, standing on end where Eddie had raked his fingers through it, and he looked more beautiful, more perfect than Eddie had ever seen him. He thought then that, even if all he could have was this one fleeting moment of pleasure with Steve Harrington, he would lay himself down again and again to have it. Even if it broke his heart, even if it upended everything, because at least then he would get to live with the knowledge that for one brief night, he had made Steve look like that. Had made him shine, just like that. 

Steve leaned forward and kissed him, breaking the spell. The kiss was careful, gentle, and tender in a way that they hadn't been before. “Eddie, what do you think? Does this feel like it’s just sex to you?” Steve asked, his voice earnest and hopeful and everything that Eddie wanted to hear. 

“It feels like everything I’ve ever wanted,” Eddie confessed, and could see the slight nod of Steve’s head in agreement, before he leaned in once more to deliver another of those soft kisses.

“Me too,” Steve whispered, and then they were off, flames of pure need fanning up their bodies again, threatening to consume them. 

They kissed and kissed as Steve struggled to tear the clothes from Eddie’s body, Eddie lifting his hips or raising his arms with each gritted-out command. 

“What would you have done,” he huffed in between Steve pulling the t-shirt over his head and then reattaching his mouth to Eddie’s newly-exposed collarbone, “if I had brought him home with me tonight?”

“I would have thrown him out of our house,” Steve growled fiercely, sitting back on his haunches over Eddie, as though to survey the lay of his land. “You were made for me, Eddie Munson. I’ve known it for a long, long time. And if you’ll let me, I’m going to show you just how good it can be to be mine.”

Body reacting before his mind could even catch up, Eddie had never nodded a yes so fast in his life. Without missing a beat, without breaking eye contact, Steve dragged both his hands down Eddie’s chest, scratching through the sparse patch of hair over his stomach and following that trail down to where it disappeared beneath the gray wool of his skirt. Then, again, Steve moved his hands to then slide up over Eddie’s knees, dragging the fabric up with him as they went, until it was bunched up over his pelvis, just barely covering the one thing they both wanted the most. 

Steve nuzzled his face in, where the thin wool was tented and damp, pressing a kiss over the head of Eddie’s cock to make his intentions clear. Everything he had said over the phone earlier? Yeah, that was happening. He smoothed his palm over Eddie, smirking when he found him immediately responsive, his cock twitching beneath the blazing heat of Steve’s hand, warm enough that Eddie could feel him through the fabric. 

“Jesus Christ, Eds,” Steve grunted, his eyes wide and hungry. “So fucking eager for me already. Tell me that you really want this.”

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, sweetheart, please.” Eddie wasn’t above begging, not when they were so close to having it all. 

With one more chaste kiss to the head of Eddie’s cock, Steve then glanced up at him with a devilish gleam in his eye, and rucked the skirt up over Eddie’s hips, exposing him fully to the cool air of the room. Steve groaned, like the sight of it alone was enough to make him lose control of himself, if only for a moment. He dragged his thumb through the beading precome that had gathered at the tip before swiping it down the length of Eddie, circling his hand around and giving him an experimental jerk. Eddie arched up into the sensation, head thrown back so that he almost missed seeing the moment when Steve leaned forward to flick his tongue up the underside of his cock before dipping into the slit to get a good taste. 

“Mm,” Steve hummed appreciatively and it drove Eddie wild. He wondered how he tasted to Steve, wondered how he would taste on Steve’s tongue if he were to kiss him just then, what flavor the two of them combined would make. He shivered at the thought. 

Eddie inhaled deeply through his nose, willing himself to focus and not to come, not to come,  not yet, not before he could sample everything Steve had to offer. He forced his eyes open, gazing down the length of his body to watch as Steve’s clever tongue moved luxuriously along Eddie’s dick as he seemed to be experimenting with what both he and Eddie liked. The look on Steve’s face was one of total concentration and Eddie had never seen something so sweet, so pure, so wholly devoted to understanding how to give, while simultaneously doing something so absolutely filthy. Perfect, Eddie thought, he’s perfect, and then at last Steve wrapped his lips around his head and sucked once, twice, slow and savoring, and Eddie couldn’t think anymore. Steve’s hazel eyes were glowing up at him with an otherworldly intensity and determination, and again, the only word he had to describe him was perfect.  

“Steve,” Eddie rasped, because he couldn’t say the other thing, not yet, but he had to say something before he went mad. “Steve, sweetheart.”

Those eyes flashed up at him again, hot and happy, and Steve had the audacity to wink at Eddie before pulling those perfect pink lips away to press wet, open-mouthed kisses along the length of his shaft. Eddie was going to die there in that bed, just fucking ascend. Here lies Eddie Munson, killed by Steve Harrington’s perfect fucking mouth. 

With a hum of satisfaction, Steve fluttered his eyes shut, concentrating on his task as he fisted his hand around the base of Eddie’s cock and slid his mouth back down the length of him, bobbing his head and sucking in earnest. Eddie let out a low, desperate keen, and the noise Steve made in return could only be described as pride at a job well done as he slowed his pace, taking Eddie down deeper, longer, until his hands were off him entirely and his lips met the wild thatch of hair at the base of Eddie’s cock. Steve’s hands splayed out over his thighs, searing the flesh beneath them as he held Eddie down while he worked. Eddie stayed still as best he could, trying to be good, trying not to fuck up into the wet, sweet slick of Steve’s mouth, but it was too much, too hot, too inviting and he bucked against the hands that held him, crying out with need. 

Steve pulled off with a rough chuckle, a string of spit still connecting his chin to the tip of Eddie’s cock, and he glanced back up at Eddie with a smirk. “Behave.”

The groan that escaped Eddie’s lips was one for the ages as he dropped his head back and flung an arm over his eyes, overwhelmed and overstimulated and needing so badly to come. He couldn’t watch, could only lie there and let Steve take whatever he wanted. He forced himself still, held back all his instincts to rut up into that perfect heat as Steve continued with his slow, slick rhythm up and down, sucking and twirling his tongue languidly until Eddie thought he would go mad from it. 

Finally, Steve pulled back with a wet pop of his mouth, and Eddie could hear the smugness behind his words. “So good for me, Eds, better than I thought it would be. Fucking love having you in my mouth.”

Eddie lifted his arm and dared to peek one eye open to look down at Steve below him. The sight he saw there should be illegal, the high flush on Steve’s gorgeous face, his mouth red and wet, lips swollen, pupils blown out and his hair well and truly fucked. He sobbed out a deep, agonized cry, full of hunger and need and the knowledge that he’d never be able to go back to not seeing Steve like this ever again. “Just kill me now,” he rasped, dropping his arm back down over his eyes. “Let me die happy, Steve, it’s too much.”

“Not done with you yet, Eds,” Steve said through a gleeful, evil laugh, and Christ, what was there left? “Give me your hand, I want to feel it in my hair. I want you to move me, use me. Fuck my mouth until you come, can you do that for me?”

Eddie very nearly did come right on the spot. His mind filled with static and somewhere outside of himself he saw his body nod in assent. Steve smiled at him, pleased. 

“Hand, Eds? You’re gonna have to take it off your face for this. I want you to watch.” 

And he did, reaching down on autopilot with trembling fingers to wind and twist them through Steve’s glorious locks, flexing to tighten his grasp at the root of his hair as he guided Steve’s mouth back down to his leaking, desperate dick. 

Once he had Steve in place, his soft lips brushing against his tip, actively dipping his tongue down to taste like he couldn’t bear to wait, Eddie gathered all his strength and tentatively guided Steve’s head down while simultaneously rising his own hips up in a shallow thrust, slow and careful as he listened for any sign that Steve was not into this. He pulled back out, and Steve panted hot breath across his spit-slick cock. “Green,” Steve rasped, and holy fucking shit, where had Steve even learned to use color signals? But that was a question for another time, because in that moment, there was only one thing that Eddie needed, and that was to come as soon as humanly possible. 

With a guttural, pained moan, he tightened his grip at Steve’s scalp and pushed him back down, the delicious wet enveloping him whole. Steve ran his hands up Eddie’s thighs, holding on tight to steady himself as Eddie began to move, taking what he wanted, thrusting faster and deeper and with greater abandon. 

It was all so much, watching Steve so debauched at his hands; being used for Eddie’s pleasure, his spit leaking down into the hair at the base of Eddie’s cock as Steve determinedly took everything Eddie was giving him, eyes closed in concentration and mouth never stopping that perfect, mind-blowing suction around him. It felt like an eternity, when in reality it couldn’t have been more than few minutes before Eddie began to lose all control, the force of his orgasm coiling tighter and tighter still in his gut until it hit with a tidal force, cresting over him in wave after wave of the most ecstatic pleasure that he had ever felt. His head fell back as his body arched up into it, and he shouted out into the darkness of the room, the sound of Steve’s name on his lips echoing off the walls. Steve’s hands clenched at the flesh of his thighs, gripping tight until it was almost painful, but he doubled down, swallowing around Eddie as his dick pulsed in his mouth, moaning around it like he couldn’t get enough. 

The emotional force of it hit next, and Eddie keened with it, years of unrequited love and desire surging up in him, a second wave of feeling hitting just as the force of his orgasm receded. It was all so much, so much.  

He came back into his body slowly, taking stock of himself bit by bit, realizing that he was shaking all over, and reaching for Steve. Steve, who had shifted his own body up so that his face was laying on Eddie’s stomach, one arm wrapped around his middle, holding him tight. He was watching Eddie as he came back down, pressing little kisses into his skin and rubbing a soothing hand over Eddie’s chest as he murmured quiet words of praise. 

“...so good, Eds, that was so good. Loved being used by you, loved how you felt in my mouth. So fucking hot, fuck, Eddie, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Eddie wrapped both hands around Steve’s arms and pulled him up until they were facing each other on the pillow. He searched Steve’s face, trying to know what he was thinking, if he was coming apart at the seams in the same way Eddie was, mind spiraling out with joy and fear, clarity and unsurety. Steve’s hair was wild and his lips were wet, spit and cum were smeared across his cheek, but his eyes… his eyes were wide and happy, and he looked so certain, so calm and confident, and Eddie just had to know. He had to know what this was, what it meant, what tomorrow looked like. He had inadvertently made Steve his whole world, and now at the precipice, he needed to know if it was safe to fall. 

“Steve, I—” he began, face twisting up as he immediately stumbled over all the things he didn’t know how to say. It was too much, he was too much. This was one blowjob, it didn’t mean—

“I love you.”

Steve said it simply, like it was a fact, like it was true, but it couldn't be, it wasn’t fair to let Eddie hope. His lips moved before his brain, mouthing the word “what,” but no sound came out. Steve giggled softly, gazing at him with such affection as he brushed the sweaty hair back from Eddie’s face, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head up so he could force Eddie’s eyes to look at him. 

“I love you,” Steve said again, dropping a small kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth as though he could make Eddie believe it by pressing the truth of his words into his skin. “And I’m so sorry to only be telling you now; I’ve tried so hard for so long to keep it to myself, to not make it your problem until I was sure you wanted it, but… the skirt, Eds, Jesus fucking Christ.”

Eddie cracked, a real, bright peal of laughter bubbling up from his chest. Steve grinned at him mischievously, but Eddie could see the relief behind it, too, watching Eddie relax and respond so warmly to his words. 

“This goddamned skirt, Eddie, what was I supposed to do? Just let someone else have you?” Steve sighed, face turned serious as he clutched Eddie tighter, eyes dark and sincere. “I am sorry, I wasn’t being fair to you. I’m sorry for tonight, and that I ruined your big date, but I think it took something like this to make me realize I had to act, I had to be the brave one, or I could lose you.”

“You wouldn’t lose me, Stevie. Never in a million years would you lose me.”

“But that’s the thing, Eds, I don’t just want this with you, not the sex or a one night stand or a fuck buddy. I want everything with you. Jobs and bills and our friends and family, vacations, sickness, health — all of it. I love our life, I love living with you and I want everything that we’ve been building together for these past five years. And I know that’s asking a lot, I know it’s just been one night, but I just… I just want you.”

His eyes dropped then, and Steve chewed his lip, as though he were afraid of what Eddie might think. As though the answer could ever be anything other than, “Steve? I’ve been in love with you since you bit the head off a bat and spat blood on my shoe. I’ve wanted you since I was sixteen years old. Everything you’re saying? The only person who wants that more than you is me.”

Steve’s eyes lit up, and he let both his hands drop from where they were still cradling Eddie’s face, dragging them down Eddie’s arms until he was able to intertwine their fingers together with a reassuring, gentle squeeze. They smiled at each other then, wide and toothy, guileless and so fucking dorky that it was almost embarrassing; just two guys in love, grinning at each other while holding hands, but fuck if it wasn’t the best Eddie had ever felt. And he had just had his brains sucked out of his dick about five minutes earlier. 

“I love you,” Steve said again. 

“I love you,” Eddie said in return, and then kissed him for all that he was worth. 

Somewhere in all the kissing, and feelings and accidental fucking love confessions, and the rewriting of Eddie’s entire fucking world, he had overlooked the fact that Steve had not yet come. And that, that simply would not do at all. 

With a gentle hand to the middle of Steve’s chest Eddie pushed softly, laying Steve back down flat against his mattress, and he smiled down at him lovingly. “My turn,” Eddie purred, and didn’t miss the way that Steve sucked in a breath and his pupils blew wide. Eddie dipped his face down to nip along Steve’s collarbone, deciding that was as good a place as any to start taking this man of his apart. 

“Eddie, god,” Steve gritted out, and Eddie hummed a rough chuckle into his salty sweat-covered skin. 

“You don’t have to call me that, sweetheart, but I am going to make you feel like you’ve been touched by one.” 

Steve’s eyes widened impossibly further, and Eddie took the opportunity to slide a hand down to take Steve’s cock gently into his fist. Steve sobbed at the sudden stimulation, thrusting up into Eddie’s grip, and Eddie allowed his hand to loosen its hold and slide along the tip, gathering the beading precome to be found there. He brought his palm up to his face and licked, dragging his tongue up his hand, wetting it while simultaneously getting his first awe-inspiring taste of Steve Harrington. 

“Jesus, Steve,” he groaned, before licking fervently back into Steve’s open mouth, tasting himself on Steve’s tongue, tasting Steve on his own, and it was all so irresistibly hot that the only thing he could even think about now was how much he had to make Steve come, had to make it good for him. 

Eddie snaked his hand back down, grasping Steve’s dick and jerking him up and down, his spit-slick palm adding a delicious slide. He dragged his mouth away from Steve’s, wanting to hear all of the sounds this glorious man could make for him, and he smirked into the hair of Steve’s chest when a litany of small curses and indulgent praise began to fall from Steve’s pink lips. Eddie sucked a nipple between his teeth and began to nip at it gently, soothing the sting with his tongue, and while Steve was overwhelmed by the sensation of Eddie’s mouth and his hand working in tandem, he reached his other arm down further, past Steve’s thighs to find a place even lower. 

He caressed the palm of his free hand gently over Steve’s balls, before slipping a finger between his cheeks, and giving his entrance an exploratory nudge. Steve gasped, lurching up in surprise, and Eddie removed the finger, kissing him softly. 

“Color, Steve?” He asked calmly, levelly, not wanting to lead the man he loved in any direction he wasn’t ready to go yet.

“Surprised me is all,” Steve breathed, a hesitant smile creeping back on his face as he allowed his muscles to slowly relax again under Eddie. “Green, Eds, I’m good, I promise.”

Eddie smiled in return, so proud of this man that he was lucky enough to get to touch, and he knew he had to make it amazing for Steve, to show him that his trust in Eddie had been worth it. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good, sweetheart, you’ll never want me to stop. I swear.”

Steve nodded at him, and settled back down against Eddie’s pillows, looking up at him expectantly with a bitchy little I’m waiting expression growing on his face. Christ, Eddie loved him. 

Having received his orders, Eddie fumbled blindly behind him, locating the lube in the bedside table drawer, and uncapping it clumsily with one hand. He closed his fist around the viscous liquid to warm it in his palm, and resumed his mouth’s leisurely tour of Steve’s chest and abdomen. Once he had Steve nice and squirmy, he reintroduced his newly slick hand to Steve’s cock, stroking it languidly, up and down with a twist over the head every few strokes until Steve was writhing in a slow-building pleasure. 

Eddie sat up, brow furrowing in concentration as he worked, watching for any signs of distress as Steve moaned, laid out on the mattress, rutting up into Eddie’s hand with his eyes closed and a smile tugging at his lips. When he was sure that Steve was loose and relaxed and ready, Eddie readjusted himself on the bed, and slipped his free hand back down between his legs to press in just the slightest bit against Steve. He could feel the man tense slightly before relaxing into it, returning to the pliable mess of need that he had been before, and Eddie smiled contentedly, thrilled to see it.

He touched and caressed, allowing Steve to get used to the feeling, before he applied enough pressure that the tip of his finger was able to slip inside. Steve gasped, but didn’t pull away again, and Eddie took this as all the permission he needed to keep going. Slowly, so slowly, he worked his finger in, up to the first knuckle and then the second, continuing to stroke Steve’s cock with his other hand, until he had him begging for more. 

And, oh, he was so beautiful like this, thoroughly wrecked from just one finger and Eddie couldn’t help but to oblige him. He slipped in another, working Steve open, taking his time to indulge in the heat and the way Steve felt clenched tight around him, learning his body until he understood exactly what it was that each breath and moan meant. He added another, and was fucking him fully then on his fingers, thought he could live there in that moment forever, with Steve trembling beneath him and around him, whimpering into the darkness and calling out his name, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

“Does it feel good, Steve?” he asked, indulgently. 

“So good,” Steve gasped, barely able to speak. “Fuck, Eddie, I need—”

Before he could say more, Eddie crooked his fingers inside of him, his secret weapon, grazing against the place that he knew would drive Steve mad. 

“Eddie!” Steve shouted, so loud and frantic that Eddie was afraid the whole damned city would be able to hear. 

“Steve, prostate. Prostate, Steve,” he smirked, all too delighted by the reaction he had been able to pull from him. 

“If you’re done with the introductions,” Steve gritted, his tone dripping with the kind of bitchiness that only Steve could make lovable, “I’d really like to come now please.” Then, quieter, and more sincere, “Please, Eds, you’re so good, I’ve never felt like this before. Make me come, please, I love you.”

And who was Eddie Munson to argue with that? He leaned down to steal a kiss, chaste, all things considered, the curve of Steve’s smile pulling beneath his lips. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he purred, sliding himself down, Steve making a broken little sound of protest at the sudden loss of his lips. “I love you, too, and now I’m going to show you how much.”

Eddie removed his hand from Steve’s cock, and nudged his knees to spread wider as he fit himself between them. Before Steve could ask what he was doing, he inhaled deeply and swallowed Steve’s cock down whole, burying his nose in the thatch of dark curls. And it felt good, the stretch of his mouth and the weight of Steve’s cock on his tongue, the salt and the bitterness, the way it twitched and came alive in his throat. It was incredible, and in a moment of pure horny inspiration, Eddie knew exactly how he wanted to end this. 

He pulled back from Steve, and the ensuing cry of distress that tore out of Steve’s mouth was immediately cut off with a little oof as Eddie tugged him sideways, landing him on his right side as Eddie reconfigured their positions. He rested his head on the inside of Steve’s thigh, and draped Steve’s other leg over his shoulder as his free hand hooked around to slide back into place inside the warm clutch of Steve’s body. Steve moaned, legs now entirely wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders as he thrust forward instinctively, cock smearing across Eddie’s cheek. 

“Now you’re getting the picture, big boy,” Eddie laughed, pressing a playful kiss right to the tip of Steve’s insistent dick. “Eager, I like it. I’m going to put my mouth back on you now. I want you to fuck into it and then backwards onto my fingers, do you understand, sweetheart? Fuck me while I’m fucking you, and I don’t want you to stop until you’re coming down my throat.” 

The noise Steve made was one that couldn’t be described in words, a broken, breathless thing, and Eddie felt powerful, felt sexy, felt like with Steve, he could do anything. He didn’t waste a second, breathing in deep through his nose and then sliding his open mouth into place, licking a wet stripe up the underside of Steve’s cock. Steve’s hips snapped forward, cock sliding past the roof of Eddie’s mouth, and then pulled back as Eddie’s fingers fucked forward into him, seeking and finding that place inside that he knew would take Steve apart. Again and again they repeated the pattern, forward and back, forward and back; an ebb and a flow, a give and a take; loving and being loved.

Eddie dragged his free hand down his own body, taking himself into it and artlessly beginning to jerk himself off. It wouldn’t take much for him to come again, he was already mostly there just by virtue of being surrounded by all that Steve was. His body so hot and trembling beside him, pliant beneath his hands, voice shredded as he chanted out Eddie, Eddie with every inhale and exhale. Steve inside of him, him inside of Steve, overwhelmed with it, drowning in the feel of it, surrendering to its power.

Steve came first, but just barely. A shout clawed its way up from his chest, breaking him apart as he came pulsing down Eddie’s throat. Eddie made a strangled sound in response, swallowing him down before pulling his mouth off and burying his own cry into the juncture where Steve’s leg met his body, as he came over his own fist, pleasure tearing through every part of him. 

They lay there for a long while afterwards, a tangle of limbs, just breathing together, working through the aftershocks — Steve’s legs wrapped around Eddie, Eddie’s arms twined around his thighs. Eventually, Eddie blinked his eyes open, trying to get his bearings. His ears were ringing with the force of his third intense orgasm of the night, and as he came back into his body he thought he heard…laughter? 

Steve was shaking, a stunned little giggle pouring out of him as he reached down for Eddie, pulling him up and wrapping him in his arms in a bone-crushing hug. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie choked out, unsure as to where else to begin. 

“Yeah, holy shit,” Steve agreed, buying his face in Eddie’s hair and continuing to laugh, a gleeful, giddy thing. 

They held each other like that for a long time, kissing softly between incredulous bursts of laughter and sated, luxurious yawns. When their bodies finally protested their tangled position loudly enough, they grudgingly pulled apart, stretching limbs and wiping off uncomfortably drying smears. At long last, together they wrestled Eddie’s skirt from off his body, tossing it down onto the floor with the rest of his rumpled clothing. Once freed, they pressed together again under the comforter, as close as they could be, skin to skin, simply feeling each other’s warmth and softness. Their hands carved paths along the other, learning each hill and each valley, and all the scars they shared; finding new places to rest and to pull closer and to hold, parts of them that they had been denied for so long, but now, at last, could touch. 

And then finally, they fell asleep together, like it was something they had always done, curled up in each other and sleeping without dreaming. They slept, free from the nightmares and the wakeful alertness that had plagued them for so long. That night, with each other, they found the kind of deep, restful, restorative slumber that brought about the dawning of an entirely new era. 

When they awoke in the morning, bodies rejuvenated and hearts full, they looked deep into each other’s eyes in the bright dawning sun and they both understood that they were home, together, at last. They kissed good morning, kissed again in the shower, and got up to go about their day like they always had. Like they knew they always would. 

Eddie and Steve stumbled into their shared kitchen, hips bumping each other teasingly in the hallway, hands straying to shoulders and waists, keeping close, keeping touching, loose in a way that neither of them had realized they hadn’t been with each other until that very morning. Steve began to mix up the eggs for french toast, and Eddie seamlessly handed him things before he even had to ask, the sugar, the vanilla, the bread. With Steve humming happily as he worked, Eddie turned to start the coffee, because only he knew just how Steve liked it. They didn’t talk, didn’t need to, simply enjoyed this one perfect morning of blissful synchronicity. Lost in his thoughts, Eddie looked out over this life they had unwittingly built together; their favorite foods made with love in their kitchen, in their house; an ordinary day in the middle of the life they had chosen to share with each other, were still choosing to share, would always now choose to share. Eddie and Steve, forever.

“What?” Steve asked, smiling at Eddie over his shoulder, as he placed the first slice of bread to sizzle in the pan. “You’re staring.”

Eddie thought about everything that had happened between them the night before, about the confessions and the love that had been made. He thought about all the firsts they had yet to share together now that they had allowed themselves to have this. He could see the rest of their lives stretch out before them: first fucks, first time combining a bedroom, first fights and first making up; first time making a major decision together, first time buying a house, a first marriage maybe, if they wanted it. 

“M’just happy, Steve.”

He smiled at the man he loved, stepping back into his space and kissing him once, softly. Because Eddie could see it all so clearly then, a lifetime full of firsts, a lifetime of shared history and found family, of birthdays and holidays and vacations, of blissful happiness and knowing each other, truly, and all because one cold February night, Eddie Munson decided to wear a skirt on his very first date without Steve.