steddielicious

[steddielicious]

tags: steddie, pre-canon, season S2-ish, tommy hagan will always have a crush on Steve Harrington

🩵💥🩵

“Someday, you gonna get bitch-slapped, and I'm not gonna do a thing to stop it,” Steve hears the echo of his words in the Hawkins High boys’ bathroom. Spinning off the tiles, pinging against its corners and stabbing at Tommy who stands gasping at his best friend.

But Steve doesn’t care. This has been a long time coming.

Tommy is a prick and Steve thought there wasn’t anything wrong with going with the flow, ignoring the snide comments, looking away from the rumours that Carol would spread, as long as his friends remained by his side.

But Billy Hargrove had infected Hawkins High. Steve stopped swallowing the cool aid. And Tommy is fuming; red in the face and ready to take it out on any unfortunate soul that crosses his path.

Enter Steve.

Or, really, enter Eddie Munson.

Steve wasn’t sure if Tommy followed Eddie into the empty toilets or coincidentally came across him or whatever could be going on in the mixed up mind of his former best friend. But watching Tommy square off his stocky, muscular body against the other boy, boxed into the corner and wide, brown eyes only visible over Tommy’s shoulder, Steve swears that he’ll no longer look away from Tommy’s indiscretions.

So, he says it again, nodding to the leather clad boy in the corner, “Eddie’s going to take a swing at you and not only will I not defend you, I might even fucking taking a swing too.”

Tommy gapes, “What the fuck, Steve? I know we’ve been having troubles, but you’d take the freak’s side over mine?”

Eddie’s face twists in the background. Steve can see the anger warping his eyes and he doesn’t blame him, almost wishes that Eddie would take a swing and then Steve could just stand back and let it happen.

He sighs: he’s allowed a lot of things to just happen so far and it’s not to his credit.

Weirdly, Steve's resigned gaze meets Eddie’s incredulous look and, just for a moment, Steve feels like he’s met someone who gets it. Someone who sees the ridiculous, short-sighted nature of the petty bullying in the hallways of their high school and knows how stupid and utterly pathetic it is.

Steve swears that the corner of Eddie’s lips kick up at the irony of their shared understanding but is distracted as Tommy strides forward, knocking against his shoulder hard enough to send Steve spinning against the wood of a stall. He steadies himself as Tommy slams the bathroom door shut behind him with a clamorous bang and shakes his head: how could he have had such loyalty for a guy who won’t even stop to talk out their stupid shit together?

Steve thought he’d at least earned Tommy’s patience, a moment of Tommy’s time so they could talk this out and find a way forward again. He stares after his former friend, a hollow, gaping hole in his stomach as he grieves the friendship he thought they’d shared.

Eddie approaches with a gentle hand, laying it on Steve’s shoulder, “Are you all right, man?”

Steve swallows around the thickness in his chest and belatedly realises that his cheeks are wet. He clears his throat and, through a tight smile, says, “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”

The deep richness of those brown eyes regard him for a long moment and Steve feels stripped bare. He thought he was the guy rescuing Eddie, but he suddenly feels like the one vulnerable and exposed to the other boy.

Eddie smiles softly, “Yeah, got saved, right? How could I be anything but peachy keen?”

Steve snorts despite himself, amused by Eddie’s tongue-in-cheek tone, “Like a summertime in Georgia.” He can’t help but flash to Tommy’s retreating back and hates that his tone is already bitter, “Except I’m the stupid fucking tree alone in the grove.”

His head twitching slightly to the side, as if he were weighing Steve’s words, Eddie lightly responds, “Well, maybe it’s time to try another field. Wanna hang out sometime?”

Steve blinks, bewildered at the offer. The suggestion given so freely and without conditions seems anathema to his experience of friendship, and especially friendship in the complex halls of high school. He eyes the other boy suspiciously, but Eddie’s eyes remain clear, his body loose and almost curled towards Steve as if he were the north to his compass.

What could it hurt? Steve thinks.

Looking at what he can only describe as kindness in Eddie’s eyes, Steve thinks that a lot of things could hurt. Could burn or scald or stab, but the sweet, clear acceptance in Eddie Munson’s eyes has him thinking of a world where Steve can offer his loyalty and receive it in kind. A place where he can be good and feel like he’s doing good and perhaps a lovely brown-eyed boy would wait and tell him he’d done the right thing.

Eddie sticks out his hand in a gesture of friendship that only bolsters the words he’d already extended to Steve. And nothing moves in the cold room of Hawkins boys’ bathroom, no wind or breeze, but as Steve reaches out to clasp Eddie Munson’s outstretched hand, he feels a seismic shift that he can’t explain.

Steve’s fingers fold around the warmth of Eddie’s palm and Eddie’s full lips stretch into a smile, welcoming and true. A gesture that Steve can’t be sure of, can’t let himself fully trust; yet, nonetheless, Steve finds himself hopelessly following after Eddie’s extension of friendship.

And it'll eventually allow Steve to follow him to the confusing halls of the Hellfire Club.

To the strangely welcome space of Eddie's uncle’s trailer.

And Steve follows.

Because he is helpless but to follow this wide, brown-eyed boy who smirks at him with a knowing smile.

#pre s4

[steddielicious]

Eddie and Robin taking Steve as their 'token golden retriever straight friend' to a queer bar in indy only it has a rodeo bull and subsequently Steve ends up going home with literally almost every single phone number in that place cause

"I got an uncle with a ranch over in Texas, didnt I tell you that Robbie?"

[steddielicious]

Everyone in the league knows about Eddie Munson. He has the makings of a great pitcher, except for the fact that his slider has a 75% chance of sliding too high and his fastballs mostly end up in the dirt. His technique is wild, flailing, unrestrained. Which is why Steve is beside himself when he learns about the trade.

The owners, they think that Steve being the best catcher in the league means he can work with Eddie, settle him, make him a real prospect. Steve's input isn't needed with the decision already made, but Munson--with all his tattoos piercings and leather--looks like he'd rather hock a loogie at Steve than take directions from him.

And Steve is the best in the league, the glue that keeps the team together. They're a well-oiled machine, and Eddie is--Eddie is a squeaky wheel.

They meet for the first time, briefly, in the locker room. He's seen the guy before, of course, but now, like this, he can't help but be intrigued by his pale skin and long curls and brown doe-eyes, his lightly muscled frame. And they're in the locker room, Eddie with just a towel around his waist, exposing his toned chest and stomach and the black swirl of his tattoos.

"Steve Harrington!" Eddie reaches out a hand. "Great to meet you, man."

"You too. Excited to have you with us." The handshake is quick and firm and Steve is trying not to be surprised about how excited and genuine the guy sounds, keep his mind away from thinking of how Eddie is naked aside from the towel.

With only a few weeks until the start of the regular season, Eddie starts pitching to Steve. And Steve, he so expects Eddie to fight and grumble and refuse, that his head sort of spins when, on the first day, Eddie claps him on the back with his glove, says, "where do you want me, cap?" and that's that.

He wants to say that they dislike each other, that they're a bad fit, that Eddie is full himself and refuses constructive criticism.

Instead.

Instead it's easy.

Eddie doesn't complain, doesn't argue, just watches Steve, learns him, takes his advice and notes and implements them as much as he can. They like each other, have an easy rapport, get each other. He's tight with all the pitchers, but Eddie is different. They settle each other.

They're best friends. They hangout constantly. And he doesn't have a crush; he doesn't. It would be unprofessional. They're best friends.

But sometimes, sometimes he thinks he catches Eddie looking at him. It's impossible. Of course it's impossible. Eddie couldn't be into the guy Sports Illustrated called "baseball's Ralph Lauren model" in the intro to Steve's Body Issue photo spread. And it doesn't matter one way or the other because Steve won't make a move. He won't jeopardize the team like that.

They don't touch. He touches everyone on the team, often, and Eddie particularly is a physical guy, but aside from that first handshake, he keeps his distance. Steve's afraid--even though it's silly, he's afraid--that once they start touching, he won't be able to stop, and he can't let that happen.

The team is good, competing for first place in the National League. Eddie's success has made everyone else better.

It's late July, they're in first place in the league, and Eddie's pitching a perfect game. There's only been 24 perfect games thrown in the history of Major League Baseball, but it's the eighth inning and Eddie's doing it.

A pitch goes wild, veers high over the umpire's head. Eddie's shaken, Steve can tell with how his fist tightens compulsively around the ball. The next pitch swings wide, towards the batter's knees.

The count is at 2 balls, no strikes, and he can see, even from behind home plate Steve can see, that Eddie's losing it. He heads for the mound, refuses to let it end like this. He closes the distance between them, has a quick internal debate before he puts his hand on Eddie's lower back. They've never touched, this is it, this is--warmth bleeds from Eddie's skin, through the fabric of his jersey, goes straight to Steve's head.

Eddie frowns. "I don't think I--"

"You're going to do it, Ed. I know. I can feel it." He pats his chest, over his heart. "It's gonna happen."

Eddie's breathing settles and it's only then that Steve realizes he's rubbing circles into Eddie's back with his thumb. He's not sure when he started, doesn't want to stop, loves being able to feel.

"Okay," Eddie says.

"Okay."

Steve removes his hand, heads back to home, still tingling with the warmth of Eddie's body even as he crouches behind the plate.

He closes out the inning with three definitive strike outs. The crowd goes wild.

They take the field for the top of the 9th, the crowd is screaming, ready for this, the energy zipping through every player on the field.

It goes by in a blur. Nine pitches. Eddie's perfect game is wrapped up in nine phenomenal pitches.

As the ump calls the last out, there's a moment of complete and utter quiet in the stadium, Steve's heart a pounding hum in his ears, before pandemonium breaks loose. There's screaming, fireworks, someone is crying--

All he can see is Eddie. Eddie's who's thrown his glove to the dirt, is barreling towards him with a triumphant smile bright on his face. Steve stands, runs to close the distance. He sees the moment that Eddie decides to jump into his arms, catches him easily--will always catch him--but his legs are tired and the momentum gets him, sends them tumbling back into the grass.

They're both yelling, laughing, smiling hard enough to hurt. Eddie's hair has fallen out if its tie, tumbling around his shoulders, and Steve gazes at him, can't help it, in this moment can admit that he's so, so astronomically in love.

It's only then Steve realizes that the laughter's stopped, that Eddie's gazing back. Brown eyes shining bright with happiness, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted. Thoughtless, he reaches up to caress Eddie's cheek.

The team reaches them, streaming around them, yanking Eddie and Steve to their feet. The celebration stretches around them, the moment slipping away. He wants to finish what they started but there are interviews, champagne showers, congratulations, that keep them apart. Sometimes, from across the room, their eyes meet, and there's heat there that's new, that sparks something low in Steve's gut.

Hours pass, and finally he finds himself alone in the locker room. He's just pulled on his t-shirt when the door shuts behind him. He spins, finds Eddie, waiting, watching.

He crosses the room without a word, can't not, not now, not after everything. They grapple for a second, the wanting so strong that it takes a second to settle, to find each other. They kiss hard, desperate, seething with desire.

Steve hopes it never ends and it doesn't, just tapers into soft kisses, gentle nips. He can't bring himself to step away.

"Is this for real ?" Eddie whispers.

"I've been insane about you since the trade."

Eddie's smile is blinding. "I used to have those pictures of you--the ones with the little red shorts?--in my locker in the minors. Feel like I'm living in a dream right now."

It lights him up inside, knowing that Eddie wants him, has wanted him. "Let me take you home and show you just how real it is?"

He snorts, but his dimples deepen, eyes shining. "What a line, sweetheart."

"Yeah well, the baseball field isn't the only place where I hit home runs."

[steddielicious]

Thinking about babygirl Steve and how he was somehow just…allowed to roam around looking like that in the mall.

Thinking about Steve babygirlifying himself on purpose, knowing full well what he’s doing.

Thinking about Steve being given a uniform after he gets through his Scoops interview, even though he doesn’t start ‘til next week. About how it feels ridiculous when he slips on the shorts and shirt and looks critically in the mirror.

About how he tilts his head, pauses. Considers his reflection and squints his eyes just a bit so he can ignore the awkward fit and the way the stupid hat flattens his hair. Because, other than a few flaws, the uniform actually looks…kind of good on him.

Now, I love a Steve who doesn’t always realise he’s being flirted with, or the effect he has on people. But that boy knows, let’s be real. Just like he knows the sort of image he makes dressed up like this.

Keep reading

#pre s4 #scoops

[steddielicious]

I like the fics in which Steve gets handsy and cuddly when he gets high. However, I like the idea that he's one of those guys who gets very tactile sensitive with pot and all of that is not just emotional seeking but tactile sensory seeking.

Steve and Eddie get high to relax and Eddie picks up on it without realizing it. Eddie is a handsy guy when relaxed enough with someone.

It starts small. Getting rowdy watching TV has Steve's leg up on Eddie's lap and his hand just rest there, thumb moving back and forth just a bit. An arm over the shoulder plays with Steve's hair. It's all so slow building and platonic that they both just have reached puppy pile level and even when they aren't high they are always touching, albeit not as much.

Until one day Steve is on a date that starts getting physical and it feels off. He finds himself wishing she'd touch him like Eddie does, the way that makes him relax. The date ends early, Steve is up all night thinking about it, then talking about it with Robin.

Finally he goes to see Eddie, and puts on 'the moves'TM.

"Stevie, are you putting the moves on me?" Eddie laughs, not really believing what's happening.

"Yeah, is it working?"

"I..."

Steve touches Eddies face softly.

"Yeah, yeah I think you're doing good... with ah that, this, um. Yes."

Eddie is flustered but smiles. Steve smiles.

"Good" Steve says and kisses Eddie.

The next time they get high they make out and figure out Steve gets extra tactile sensitive in other fun ways.

[steddielicious]

Steve is sitting at the table in the kitchen FaceTiming Tommy to help his daughter with her math homework when Eddie brings his live-stream into the room.

“While Isla’s in the bathroom, I’m going to do the same,” Steve says, standing up. He tells them both, “Play nice.”

They do not do that because it’s funnier to keep the rivalry going. The first thing Eddie says when Steve steps out is, “Does it still eat you up inside that I married him?”

Tommy replies easily with, “Are you still jealous that I kissed him first?”

Carol chimes in, “Actually I kissed him first.”

“Doesn’t count,” Tommy and Eddie say at the same time. “There was no tongue.”

“And no declaration of love,” Eddie adds. “Only I got that.”

“Actually…” Robin says, never letting anybody forget. “He confessed he was in love with me and I didn’t have to kiss him.”

[steddielicious]

So for the ficlet build your own prompt thing could you maybe do “Should I kiss it better?”, someone who cares, hurt/comfort, and instrument?? (Btw love all your stuff, you’re such a talented writer ❤️)

Aw, that made me blush, thank you so much.

I did a little missing scene thing for your prompt - this would be after Eddie moves in but before these two dumbasses first kiss. Hope you like it. 🥰

I'm celebrating 1k followers - requests are open!

Maybe some day

Rated: T

Words: 996

Tags: domestic fluff; Steve Harrington needs a hug; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; pining; Steve is Dustin’s dad; single dad Steve; good babysitter Eddie Munson; flirting; sexual tension; pining (oh God, so much pining)

Notes: Bonus scene to Someone who cares

Dusk is falling as Steve steps out of the elevator. His shoulders are sore from the office chairs, his eyes itching from staring at screens all day, and his head is feeling like someone is digging its way out through his eye socket with a pickaxe. He’s tired and weirdly on edge at the same time.

When he tries to unlock the door, he drops his keys.

“Fuck!” he snaps, then winces. It isn’t like himself, getting this angry at petty inconveniences like that. Then again, it isn’t really the keys he’s angry about. It’s his father and his stupid company and endless board meetings. Himself for being such a fucking pushover, for playing along in this farce.

Taking a deep breath, he wills himself to calm down. His head still wails in protest as he crouches to retrieve the keys.

The foyer is dark and silent, but a keg of light is filtering in from the living room.

Dustin is on the sofa in his pajamas, hands fiddling with something in his lap - Eddie’s guitar. When he hears him approach, he looks up, mouth tugging into an unamused scowl that Steve knows looks a lot like his own.

“Hey, Dad. You’re late.”

“I know,” he grouses, collapsing on the opposite end of the sofa. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Dustin pouts. “I wanted to stay up. Haven’t seen you all day.”

Steve, who was just drawing a breath to argue, snaps his mouth shut. Because the kid's right. He left before Dustin was awake and he’s only returned now, way past his bedtime.

What kind of dad is he?

The sound of something going twang startles him from his stupor.

“Ow,” Dustin yelps. “Shit!”

“Language,” Steve says, at the same time that another voice floats over from the kitchen.

“Jesus, I step out for five minutes and this is what you do?”

Eddie spares Steve a lazy wave, sliding into the spot next to Dustin to assess the damage. Like it's perfectly natural. Like they belong together. His son. The man he's in love with.

“You'll be fine,” Eddie mutters, voice fond. “No real damage done.”

Dustin scoffs, cradling his finger. “Still hurts.”

“I meant the guitar, dipshit.”

Dustin gapes at him. “You're such an ass. I'm injured here!”

“Aw,” Eddie coos, making grabby hands at the finger. “Should I kiss it better?”

Dustin balks.

“You're gross, I'm going to bed! Night, Dad!”

“Love you, too,” Eddie calls after him. “Remember to brush your teeth. Floss, too.”

He watches Dustin stomp off, dark eyes brimming with affection, and Steve’s heart flutters in his chest. Only to drop right out of his body when those eyes shift over to him.

“Rough day?”

“No,” Steve says automatically. Eddie raises an eyebrow, gaze sweeping over his rumpled form. Steve feels himself flush and rubs at his prickling neck. “Yeah, I guess. Just one of those- ow, fuck.”

His muscles scream at the touch and a jolt of pain zaps all the way from his shoulders to his skull. Eddie’s worried face shifts into a slow grin. He raises his hands, fingers wiggling invitingly.

Steve knows he shouldn’t. He’s promised himself to keep his distance, to not give in to his desires. He’s lucky to have Eddie here at all, and the last thing he wants to do is scare him away by doing something stupid. He’d never forgive himself.

But his self-control is a feeble thing, and it’s wearing thinner with each day.

“Okay,” he breathes, shifting his position and loosening his tie.

There’s a hum from behind him, and a shuffling sound, and then the warmth of another body blankets him from behind and deft fingers find the knots in his shoulders. It’s heaven and hell all at once, the sting of his muscles relaxing under Eddie’s touch, the feeling of having Eddie close. The knowledge that all he’d need to do is turn around and reach out and pull him in. Never let him go again.

“Sorry about the guitar,” he says, more to distract himself. “He needs to learn to be more careful with other peoples’ shiiit.”

“‘s okay,” Eddie murmurs, skillfully ignoring Steve’s pained hiss. “He was pretty grouchy about you being late, it was a welcome distraction.”

The familiar guilt settles heavy in Steve’s abdomen and he lets out an involuntary sigh. “Yeah. Sorry about that, too.”

“Don’t be.” Eddie shrugs, the motion pulling them a little bit closer together. “That kid loves the shit out of you. You’re a fantastic dad.”

Steve huffs weakly. “I’m a tired dad with one hell of a headache, that’s what I am.”

“Hm,” Eddie hums, and leans in. His breath is a warm tickle against the shell of Steve’s ear, lips almost touching skin, but not quite. “Y’know, that offer applies to you, too. I can always kiss it better.”

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Eddie!” Dustin hollers from the bathroom. “Where’s the stupid floss? I can’t find anything with your stuff in here!”

Steve has shot up from the sofa and is halfway across the room before he even processes it.

“I got it,” he blurts. “You stay put, you’ve done enough.”

“Fine,” Eddie quips, and Steve imagines there’s an ever-so-slight undercurrent of disappointment in his voice. “But after, you’re coming back and we’re putting on that stupid show you like. You need to relax, Stevie.”

There's a whole lot of things he needs to do, Steve thinks. Get a hold of himself. Tell his dad to fuck off. Tackle Eddie into the sofa and kiss him senseless, or at least talk about this thing that's crackling in the air between them like electricity.

Some day, he might.

But not today.

Today, he'll lie on the sofa and watch tv with Eddie’s feet in his lap and be thankful to have this mesmerizing man in his life - warm and close and so, so tempting, but not his.

For today, this'll have to be enough.

[steddielicious]

STWG prompt 18/4/24

prompt: the beemer

pairing/character(s): steddie

-

"I didn't see your van outside, you need a ride home?" Gareth asks as everyone's packing up their dice sets.

Eddie looks up from scribbling notes down about important character actions with a hum, and notices that the concerned look on Gareth's face is mirrored by Jeff and Freak.

The freshmen members of the club aren't interested, whispering excitedly amongst themselves about something that will probably cause Eddie problems at their next session. (He catches some complaints about biking home too. Losers.)

"What? No, no, don't worry man." He assures with a smile, and goes back to his notes. Steve's picking him up today. They have a date. Which, sure, he's been on a few official dates with Steve now, but they still make him so... jittery and excited.

He shakes his head at the half-finished page of his notebook and readies his pen. He can't forget that Mike now has a bag of holding, so he writes that down and then closes the notebook and nods to himself, satisfied.

When he looks back up his bandmates are still staring at him in concern.

"What?"

"You literally never leave your van at home." Jeff points out, and then Freak adds on:

"You call it your child sometimes."

"Hey. Pac-Van is a she, thank you very much." Eddie says, "But seriously, it's fine. I just got a ride this morning and he's picking me up too."

He hasn't gotten round to telling them about him and Steve yet. He knows they'll take great pleasure in making fun of him getting with a jock. You know, because of all those rants he likes to go on at the lunch tables about said jocks... Whatever.

"From Wayne?"

"No." He rolls his eyes at the questioning and shoves his stuff into his backpack, then makes a quick decision. Fuck it, "I promise I'll be fine, you big babies. Harrington's a good driver."

"Harrington?!" They all ask in sync, and that gets the attention of their newer recruits, who are still chattering away. Their heads all snap over to them.

"Why're you talking about Steve?" Mike asks, looking vaguely disgusted. Dustin elbows him in the side.

"Don't worry your angsty little head about it, Wheeler." Eddie says with a grin, and then finally picks up his backpack, "Now I have places to be and people to see so I trust you all to leave this room as you found it? I gotta go."

And with that he leaves the room, ignoring Freak's voice from behind him.

"I thought he was just giving you a ride home."

He makes it to the parking lot just as the beemer pulls in, and finds a smile appearing on his face at the sight. Because he's feeling dramatic, he does a wild little wave at the car. He can't see Steve yet, but he knows that made him chuckle, or at least smile.

"Hey, taxi for Munson?" Steve yells out of his window as he slows the car to a stop, and Eddie's smile widens.

"Oh, we're roleplaying tonight, are we?" He asks as he walks around to the passenger side and gets in. He's pretty sure Steve rolls his eyes at him, but he's also pretty sure he's doing it in a fond way. Hopefully.

Steve doesn't drive off immediately, a glint of something intense in his gaze as he looks at Eddie. He's leaning toward Eddie a little too, and having Steve Harrington's full attention on him is not something Eddie's used to yet, so an unbidden blush appears on his cheeks.

"Good day?"

"Great day, Stevie."

"Good. Can't wait to hear about it over dinner." Steve nods, and his eyes flicker down to his lips for a second, and then he leans out of Eddie's space to start the car up again.

Right. Public space. Homophobic small town. Yadda yadda, kissing can wait until they're safely indoors.

Eddie's too busy fiddling with the radio as the beemer drives off to notice Freak, Gareth and Jeff stood staring at the car from in front of the school doors, perplexed looks on their faces, as the freshmen run over to the bike racks. But he'll definitely be hearing all about their thoughts at band practice.

#pre s4

[steddielicious]

TW for internalized homophobia and related bad decisions

Steve is 12 and he thinks about finding his soulmate all the time.

You're supposed to find them through touch; your life together will flash in front of your eyes. They're rare, though, soulmates. So rare that most people never find theirs. So rare that some people say they're made up.

Steve wants to be one of the lucky few. He wants it to be a true, unbreakable bond, a love he gets to have forever.

He wonders if he'll find his soulmate at school. He's popular, he thinks. Tommy would say they were popular. But Tommy's definition of popular mostly has to do with the number of kids he can get away with being mean to, and that's not really Steve's deal. Tommy is like a prey animal, the way he can find weaknesses.

There's a new boy at school. Steve doesn't know his name, but they have English together. He's too thin, with huge brown eyes, and all his clothes are too big. His head's been inexpertly shaved and he never looks anybody in the eye. It's only a matter of time before he catches Tommy's interest, and Steve wishes he could stop it somehow, but he's never been good at going against Tommy.

The day comes, of course. They're standing in the hall, the new boy walking towards them, head down, as always. Tommy nudges Steve says, "What a loser."

And Steve shrugs, starts to ask Tommy about football, if the Colts can make the Super Bowl, but the boy is nearing and Tommy is cackling.

"Watch this." Tommy sticks his foot out.

The boy doesn't react fast enough. He falls forward with a bitten off yelp, and Steve moves without really thinking, only knows he can't stand to see him fall. He catches the new kid beneath his armpits, Steve's thumbs brushing the soft skin his arms.

The world around him falls away at the touch.

---

He's sitting on the floor in the band room, Eddie--the boy's name is Eddie--next to him. Eddie's hair is a little longer and Steve's in a green polo he doesn't recognize, and he's never been in the band room in his life. They're leaning into each other and laughing and Eddie's so beautiful.

---

They're in the woods--Skull Rock, Steve thinks. Eddie's hair is curled and frizzed around his chin, and he's laughing, his cheeks pink, his dimples prominent. He tries to pull his hair in front of his face, but it's not long enough yet to reach. Steve is overwhelmed, wants to kiss him so bad. He's never had to wait to kiss someone, or been unsure, or--

He wants to kiss Eddie.

So, he does.

It's hard, desperate, not the first kiss Steve expected, but then they've been waiting for so long.

---

Steve stands in the hallway of Hawkins High. He's wearing a striped, beige short-sleeved polo, and flirting with Nancy Wheeler.

He likes Nancy, she's pretty and smart and fun. And it's easy. He can hold her hand. Can introduce her to his parents. Can take her on dates and kiss her in public.

She bats her big blue eyes at him, and he can't help but kiss her.

He pulls away gently, brushing his thumb against her cheek, and when he looks down the hall, Eddie is there, frozen. His mouth is wide, his eyes glassy.

Steve thinks the way his heart stutters must be what dying feels like.

---

He's sitting on his diving board, facing away from the pool. He smokes a cigarette and there's a bat studded with nails at his feet, what the fuck. Music thuds, shrieks and laughter seep into the cool night air.

He should be playing the gracious host. He should be having a good time. Instead, his eyes search the woods and he taps another smoke out of the pack.

"Harrington?" The voice makes him jump, hand flexing around the bat handle. "It's freezing out. What are you doing?"

He recognizes the voice now, doesn't turn, doesn't respond, can't stand to see another person he let down; another person who could call him bullshit and be 100% correct.

"Do you not have a jacket? C'mon, man."

Something warm settles over his shoulders, and he inadvertently breathes in weed and leather and cedar. He squeezes his eyes shut, like that will make the comforting, familiar scent go away. He'll have to move to shrug off the jacket, though, which would mean acknowledging Eddie's presence.

"Can you at least say something, Harrington? You're freaking me out."

"I'm fine, Ed--Eddie." The nickname falls from his lips too easily. He doesn't miss how Eddie flinches.

His hair is long now, down to his shoulders, brittle looking in the cold. He's wearing a t-shirt and worn flannel, arms wrapped around his chest for warmth now that his jacket is draped over Steve's shoulders.

Steve is an idiot. He's such an idiot. Chasing after Nancy when Eddie is--

"I'm sorry," he says. He turns to face his soulmate, then. "I'm sorry about Nancy, I--"

Eddie jerks back like he's been hit. "Fuck you, Harrington," he snarls.

---

He sits in the back of an ambulance, eyes swollen shut, face throbbing. He's wearing a sailor suit for inexplicable reasons, which is almost more upsetting than the ambulance. He smells like puke and something toxically sweet.

A girl is with him, one he doesn't recognize, but he feels deeply, instinctively protective of her. He holds her shaking shoulders tight, tries to whisper comfort to her through his busted and bleeding mouth.

He's pretty sure he has a concussion.

"Steve!" Someone screams over the sounds of the EMTs and firefighters, of the building burning and collapsing behind them.

Eddie bursts through the gathered onlookers and past the ring of police cars enclosing them. He's falling into the ambulance before Steve has a chance to react.

"Sweetheart," Eddie sobs. He tries to cup Steve's face, but his fingers flutter around the damage. "Sweetheart, oh my god. I came as soon as I heard. Are you--what can I--"

Steve stares at him--his hair falling from its messy bun, his cutoff Metallica tee, concern and love leaking from those brown, brown eyes--and bursts into tears.

---

They sit on the roof of his house, sharing a joint back and forth. It's chilly, bordering on cold, winter just on the horizon. They're laughing, leaning into each other, and Steve is--he's happy. Elated. Could float away with it.

Robin--Robin-- is in the bathroom, or maybe in the kitchen for snacks, and it's just them for now. They're looking at each other, smiles wide, eyes bright.

They're taking it slow. Steve knows it's important, after what he did. They talked about it, his abandoning of Eddie for Nancy, chasing what his dad told him was normal and expected.

He doesn't want to cross any boundaries, wants to do this right. How Eddie deserves. But they're leaning into each other and they're smiling, and he's so in love. Intoxicated with it, lost.

In the end, he doesn't know who makes the first move, just that they're kissing and it's like coming home.

---

He's in a building, a shed or something. It's musty and dirty, smells like oil and gasoline and a building left closed up too long. Eddie's in his arms and he's talking through hiccuping sobs.

"I didn't save her, Steve. I didn't help. I just left her there! She was broken in pieces and I--I--"

Steve holds him close, tight, squeezes his eyes closed to stop his own tears from falling. He never wanted this for Eddie, never wanted him involved. Thought he could protect him from all of Hawkins's terrible things.

They aren't alone. Robin is there, coming up to hold Eddie too, plus a redheaded girl and curly haired boy he doesn't recognize.

"We'll figure this out, Eddie." The boy promises.

"We won't let anyone hurt you. We know you didn't murder Chrissy," the girl says.

---

Steve is in a world he doesn't understand, and Eddie is his arms. Eddie is in his arms, and there's blood everywhere. He's not awake, he's not--his heart beat is soft and slow, too slow, and his breathing stutters, and Steve can't--

"Baby, stay with me." He begs as he runs across the dead and rotting landscape. "Eddie, please. Wake up, okay? Wake up for me. I need to--I need to know that you're alright."

Eddie stays limp in his arms.

"Please," he begs. "You can't leave me. We promised, remember? We promised we'd be together forever. The rest of our lives. Me and You. Our six little nuggets. You promised."

The portal back to Hawkins is less than a dozen feet away, he's so close. Eddie gasps to consciousness, but his eyes are still hazy.

"Hi, sweetheart," he mumbles.

"Hey, hi, you're doing so good. We're almost out, okay? We're almost out and we'll get you to the hospital."

Eddie reaches out a weak hand, touches the edge of Steve's jaw. "Love you, Stevie," he whispers. "Glad you were mine."

He goes still in Steve's hold.

---

The images come faster now--

A hospital room at Hawkins General, Eddie hooked to machines. Steve holds hands with an older man. They wait in terrified silence

Eddie propped in a bed, a bunch of kids around him, Steve and Robin at his side. His eyes keep sliding to Steve, like he's making sure Steve's real, that he's still there

Their bodies tangled together in a bedroom Steve doesn't recognize

Steve down on one knee in a marble room lit only by black and red candles, Eddie standing in front of him

Hand-in-hand on a cliffside overlooking the ocean. The Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, stands in front of them with tears in his eyes and a beaming smile on his face

In a big, green yard behind a cozy little house. A little boy with Eddie's eyes and curls riding on his shoulders. Eddie sprinting around with a tiny girl giggling after him, perfect imitation of the King Steve hair-do on her tiny head

In a park, surrounded by family and friends. Steve has a little bit of a paunch and wears glasses. Eddie's hair streams around his shoulders, going grey at the temples. There's a banner strung between trees proclaiming 'Happy 20th Steve and Eddie!' They're surrounded by everyone they love and it's perfect

---

The images flash too fast for Steve to catalog after that, seconds-long glimpses of a shared future, and then he's back in his body in the hallway of Hawkins Middle, still holding too tight onto Eddie's arms.

Eddie rears back, face pale and terrified, and Steve is too shocked to do anything but let him go.

Tommy's yelling, but Steve only has eyes for his soulmate, who scrambles to his feet and throws himself down the hall away from them.

"What the hell, Harrington? Why'd you catch him? That was about to be funny as hell! I bet he'd have broken his nose--you ruined it!"

Steve isn't listening. He's trying to hold on to the memories of their life together, the ones that are already fading.

The last thing he remembers is that, sometime in the not-too-distant future, he'll find his way to the band room, Eddie Munson, and the rest of their lives.

#soulmates

[steddielicious]

you can take me hot to go

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | 4.8k words | Rated E for Explicit*

*18+ only / minors DNI

In a flash of movement, just as Eddie is taking a drag, Steve snatches the joint back. “Hey!” Steve holds it just out of his reach. “If we’re gonna do this, I need it, remember?” Eddie shifts uncomfortably on the couch. It had started as an offhand comment, just an attempt to rib Steve and rile him up. Steve coughed on his first hit and Eddie made a crack about him needing someone to shotgun it for him. Steve had looked at him seriously, too seriously, and Eddie had followed that up with an admission that he’d never actually shotgunned with anybody and wouldn’t know how if he tried. This is exactly why he doesn’t have moves: when he’s nervous he talks too much, and not everything that comes out is particularly intelligent. He’s ended up in a lot of predicaments in his life because of that instinct. Case in point: Steve offering to shotgun with Eddie for—what? The miseducation of Eddie Munson?

featuring: smoking/shotgunning, getting together, first time, trans Eddie, light D/s dynamics, dirty talk, and Steve being generally Down Bad (for @subeddieweek)

[steddielicious]

Steve and Eddie meet through their local buy-nothing-sell-nothing group when Steve’s getting ready to move in with Robin and he realizes he can't keep everything he owns while trying to merge households with her.

The first time they meet, Steve hadn't even been meaning to actually meet the person picking up the free toaster oven he’s giving away.

He’s setting his toaster oven outside his house on the porch when Eddie hops out of his van to pick it up and it would be rude to duck back inside without saying anything since he obviously sees him coming up, so they make small talk for a minute and Steve has to keep his eyeballs in check because they keep wanting to rake all the way down this guy’s body.

He’s covered in tattoos and so extremely Steve's type, but he knows better than to hit on someone who lives in his neighborhood and is not here for that reason.

He laments to Robin about it the next day, about the hot guy who’s probably using Steve's toaster oven as they speak, who he’ll probably never see again.

Robin rolls her eyes fondly at him and tells him that maybe if he puts more stuff up for grabs on the facebook group, he might see him again, but Steve suspects she just wants him to get rid of more of his stuff so it doesn't overcrowd their new apartment.

The set of items he puts up in the group next is an old blender and a butcher block that has three of the knives missing—seriously where did those knives go? He has yet to find them.

He tries to pretend he isn't secretly hoping Eddie will comment under his post that he wants the items, but he isn't fooling himself when his heart literally skips a beat when the first comment is from Eddie. He messages him and tells him to stop by later that day.

When Eddie shows up, they talk for longer than last time, Eddie asking why Steve needs to get rid of so much stuff and Steve asking why Eddie needs all this stuff—especially considering Steve snooped through the group and saw that Eddie joined over a year ago and hadn't once commented before now (he doesn't mention that thought, but he is thinking it real hard).

Eddie laughs and says he was in the market for a toaster oven when Steve posted one and wouldn't you know it? He also needs a blender—the knife set is just a bonus, he says.

Steve tries not to read too much into it, but his brain is spinning the interaction around in his head for the next week.

He puts up a space heater in the group and within minutes, Eddie has claimed it.

“I should just get your number and text you directly when I find something I want to get rid of next time,” Steve says flippantly when Eddie comes by to grab it that night. “Instead of clogging up the facebook group.”

Eddie smirks at him and steps a little closer. He says, “Maybe you should.”

His neighbor’s car alarm decides to go off right at that moment, ruining the flirty atmosphere with its incessant shrill. They can barely hear each other over the drone of it, so Eddie leaves without giving Steve his number and Steve is left feeling like he keeps having these missed connection moments with Eddie.

In a fit of desperation to see Eddie again, Steve puts up a bunch of random stuff in the group the next day—a shoe rack that’s missing a piece, a step stool, a cheap side table he got from Ikea—and Eddie is still the first person to comment like he’s been refreshing the page, just waiting for Steve to post.

“I left without giving you my number last time and I didn't want to be creepy and message you unprompted,” Eddie says as they load the side table into his van. “I think I was overthinking things and then got kind of spooked.”

“It doesn't look like anything could spook you,” Steve says.

When they get the side table inside the back of the van, Eddie turns to him and admits, “A very pretty boy could.”

Steve can feel his face getting hot. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Why do you think I keep coming here? There's no way a person who’s lived here for as long as I have would need all this stuff.”

“Did you need any of it?” Steve asks in a teasing voice. “Or were you just so blown away by how cute my profile picture is that you just had to meet me?”

“Oh, I needed the toaster oven, but everything after that was just to see you again,” Eddie says before biting his lip.

There’s an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach when Eddie's hand brushes his, when Steve takes Eddie's hand in his and leads him inside his box-filled house.

Later, when they’re making out on Steve's couch—when Steve really should still be packing since he has to move in less than a week—he pulls back to ask, “Wait, so are you gonna put the rest of the stuff you don't need back up for grabs in the group? I feel like that would start so much neighborhood gossip.”

Eddie grins wide and Steve wants to kiss him again, wants to feel his smile against his mouth.

“Oh, we’ll be the talk of the town, baby,” Eddie says, pulling him back in.

[steddielicious]

“Rob, if I had any clue I wouldn’t be asking for your advice. That’s what you’re here for.” Steve throws his arms up in exasperation.

“How would I know? I can say with one hundred percent certainty that I’ve never noticed a man’s hands. Let alone, Eddie’s hands.” She rolls her eyes and scoops up a nearby stack of video returns.

“Oh come on. With the way he’s always throwing them around? You’ve never once thought about them? Like, what they might feel like or…whatever?”

She scrunches her nose at the thought. “Not even once. What are you imagining he’s doing with these fingers of his?”

“Just…y’know touching and stuff,” Steve stutters while a faint blush blooms on his cheeks.

“Touching what?” Robin leans in curiously.

“You know what?” Steve straightens up and awkwardly adjusts his vest. “Doesn’t matter. That answered my question.”

“Doesn’t answer mine.” She follows close behind as he tries to scurry away from the counter. “What is he touching, Steeeeeeve?”

He rolls his eyes, trying to feign annoyance, as he slips into the back room. She doesn’t let the door shut between them, and instead leans against it keeping it propped open.

“Come on, dingus.” She crosses her arms and gives him a cocky look. “What are you fantasizing about Eddie’s fingers doing to you?”

A choked gasp happens within earshot near the new releases, Robin’s head whips over to the sound.

Eddie’s giant chocolate colored eyes stare back, and Robin’s eyes flick to the broken bell over the front door.

“Shit.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to hear what I’ve imagined Eddie’s fingers doing on, around, or in my body, R-Ro…” Steve stalls as he steps into the doorframe seeing the man of the hour himself, gawking at Steve’s admission.

“In?” Eddie squeaks.

[steddielicious]

won’t you reply?

by reelingmaiden

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Character: Eddie Munson, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, Gareth (Stranger Things), Hellfire Club (Stranger Things), Steve Harrington Additional Tags: Secret Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Mild Sexual Content, Daddy Kink, Sexting, Steve sends Eddie a naughty video, Possessive Behavior, Fluff and Humor, Jealousy, Everything is basically mild, Hellfire Club finds out that Steve and Eddie are dating Words: 1,994 Chapters: 1/1

Summary

He opens Snapchat, under the assumption the video Steve sent is innocent. Fully trusts Steve knows better than to send anything inappropriate when he’s with their friends, especially when their relationship is being kept a secret for the time being. There’s no second guessing it might be anything but something silly, like Steve’s mischievous cat getting locked in the cupboard again or maybe Steve and Robin are up to no good and halfway through their second bottle of wine. He thinks nothing of it when he clicks on the notification. Wrong. So very wrong. Or It’s Hellfire night, Steve and Eddie are in a secret relationship, and Eddie opens a Snapchat video he really should have waited to open.

[steddielicious]

Eddie and Steve had a will they/wont they going on for years while Eddie did the whole famous rockstar thing. And now he’s on a break. Two platinum records with Corroded Coffin behind him, Eddie can finally concentrate on Steve. And the miracle is that Steve never resented Eddie for focusing on his career. That wasn’t a problem for him. He waited (sometimes patiently and sometimes not) until it was his turn, and when they got together, it was just as incredible as both had expected it would be.

So you can’t blame Eddie for writing his first solo album all about Steve. He’s done hiding in the closet for his career, so it’s he/him pronouns and filthy imagery. Shockingly it sells like you wouldn’t believe. In fact, he’s getting picked up in markets he never reached before. And when he gets the numbers for radio stations, he’s killing it on stations totally unfamiliar to him. But he’s still completely wrapped up in Steve so he’s not paying a lot of attention and he lets his manager take care of everything.

The mystery is revealed the day they get a package from Wayne. It contains clippings from newspapers and magazines, and a note that just says, “Something you want to tell me, boy?” All the headlines are some variation of “Former Satanist Eddie Munson Releases Worship Album quietly signaling his conversion to Christianity”

Eddie is furious and Steve has to watch him throw a tantrum yelling and screaming. When he eventually calms down Steve reminds Eddie that doing zero press and releasing songs like, “On My Knees in Worship” and “He is my Sunrise and my Salvation” might in fact be a little misleading.

They spend the rest of the night giggling about all the good Christians listening to songs about their sex life.

[steddielicious]

April 24, 1987 - GAME 1

Hi here’s a Steddie Drabble from my latest sports discovery while deciphering basketball stats.

gen * wc 1,174 * established relationship

The 1986-87 Indiana Pacers season has been a doozy. Steve would never had guessed that the Pacers would make it to playoffs. Jack Ramsey, the long standing coach of the Portland Trail Blazers recently hired for the Pacers, leading the team into playoffs for the first time since ‘81.

And for the first time in four years, Steve has someone to watch the playoffs with.

When Eddie was still in the hospital, Steve and Wayne would meet in passing, alternating sitting by his side to keep him comfort and to keep him safe. The first two weeks, Eddie was in and out of consciousness, and “unable to protest when I put on the game,” Wayne half joked, nodding to the Cardinals-Cubs game on the television. Steve nodded, sitting down on the other side of Eddie as they watched the game in silence. A few innings in, Wayne scoffed. “You tellin’ me, this Rick Sutcliffe is worth a buck and a half?”

Steve couldn’t help but smirk. “The Cardinals are the ones paying almost 2 million for a short stop.”

“And a damn good one, too,” Wayne added. “Wayne.”

“Steve,” Steve added, properly introducing himself.

Wayne hummed, as if he was thinking something over. “I wondered if that was you. He doesn’t shut up about ya.”

“He’s … something special,” Steve said softly, and he was sure Wayne knew.

And when Steve and Eddie started to date, game nights with Wayne became more common. They started by watching the World Series (an unfortunate season for the Cubs, but at least Wayne’s Cardinals also failed to go into post season). Then into football season (a disappointing season from the Colts). Then a couple of hockey games when the Blackhawks were nationally televised, but the real excitement hit when the Indiana Pacers were playing.

Wayne and Steve were pretty excited when the Pacers made it to playoffs.

On game nights, one of the men would be in charge of grabbing supper, usually pizza or something from the diner on the edge of town. Wayne and Steve would settle in the living room as Eddie went to his bedroom, working on a new song or planning the next campaign. He enjoyed his alone time, allowing the creativity to flow and not worry about if he’s ignoring Steve. During halftimes, Steve would find his way into the bedroom, enjoying time with Eddie before the game picks up again.

Steve was setting up the living room and finding the channel for the first Pacers playoff game. Wayne and Eddie should be off of work and be home soon. Eddie was on supper duty tonight.

Gravel crunched under tires, signifying that one of the two had arrived. A loud slam of a car door confirmed that it was his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby —“ Steve started to greet Eddie.

“What do you mean a basket is called a field goal?” Eddie asked dramatically.

“I — what?” Steve asked a wrinkle to his brow.

“A field goal,” Eddie supplied. Steve watched as Eddie set up the three meals —three? — in the living room. Usually Eddie takes his into the bedroom before the game starts. “It’s fucking basketball. They’re called field goals?”

“I mean — yeah. Field goals,” Steve said, watching Eddie get settled into the couch, burgers and milkshakes spread out on the coffee table. “They’re the two or three pointer shots. If they score, it’s a field goal. They’re mainly called that … in stats.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, stuffing fries into his mouth. “I read up.”

“On … stats,” Steve said, sitting down on the couch, nearly on top of Eddie. “On basketball stats?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “I wanted to know what’s going on in the playoffs.”

“You want to watch with us?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, leaning into Steve. “You said this was a big deal, so I thought I’d join in.” He took a sip of his milkshake. “Is that … okay?”

“You, Eddie Munson, want to watch basketball with us?” Steve asked. He extended his hand, pressing the back of his palm against Eddie’s forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie laughed, swiping Steve’s hand away. “I asked Lucas if he could give me some pointers.”

“For the Pacers game,” Steve repeated.

“Yeah,” Eddie said with a slight huff. “He said to keep an eye on Chuck Person, said he wouldn’t be surprised if he won Rookie of the Year. He said the Pacers improved drastically with the coach change. That they went from, what, a record of 26-56 to 41-41? That’s fucking impressive. And it looks like a lot of that depended on Person averaging 18 points per game? I mean, he’s no Magic Johnson or Larry Bird or Michael Jordan, but that’s still fucking good, right? For his rookie season?”

Steve couldn’t help but stare, his mouth slightly agape. He had to be dreaming, right? This is his boyfriend rattling off facts and stats in front of him, right?

Eddie waved his hand in front of Steve’s face. “Stevie?”

Steve all but leaped into Eddie’s arms, crashing their lips together in a hard and clumsy kiss. Eddie, known jock despiser, learned sports statistics for him?

“If I knew this was the response I’d get,” Eddie mumbled into the kiss, “I would’ve told you Colts stats months ago.”

Steve groaned. “It wouldn’t have worked as well. Colts sucked ass this season.”

“I know something that sucks good —“

“Please, for the love of God,” Wayne groaned from the front door. The two nearly split, pulling off of each other but staying pressed against one another on the couch. “Not in front of the Pacers.”

“Eddie’s gonna watch with us tonight,” Steve beamed. Eddie took note of his smile, of the energy Steve gave for just Eddie being interested in watching sports with him. Maybe he could get enough cash together to buy three tickets for the next Cardinals-Cubs game.

“Wondered when he’d get his head out of his ass and join us,” Wayne laughed, sitting in the recliner, grabbing his dinner from the coffee table. “Who you got on the game, Eds?”

“Depends on if we can keep the ball away from Wilkins,” Eddie said around his fries. “Ending last season with an average of 30 points per game? Need to keep him away from the net.”

“Jesus,” Steve mumbled, taking a long look up and down Eddie. “Wayne, you might need to take a long smoke break during halftime.”

“Already planning on it,” Wayne sighed. “Turn on the game.”

[steddielicious]

Steve had this habit, a habit which most of the party were annoyed by. They understood it, God did they understand. But after everything was over and the Upside Down was gone for good, it kept happening. Months and months of daily calls. Just Steve checking in and asking them about their day.

Mike hadn't understood why he was on the list of names Steve would call, but if he didn't pick up the phone, there would be a knock on the door within the hour. And Steve, sometimes followed by Robin, would stop by like he was that important to them. Once, it had been on their way to work, and Steve had only locked eyes with him and raised an eyebrow. Mike just flipped him off and continued reading his comic.

Dustin had told him it was Steve's way of coping, and Lucas had turned the calls into workouts with the older teen. Will had just gone a little red and nodded along. El smiled and told Mike about the tips for hair care she got. Max just rolled her eyes and said that Steve had taken to stopping by with food most days.

Steve would be there. He was always there. It was annoying, but it was a constant. Maybe that's why Mike laid awake as the clock ticked closer and closer to midnight. Normally, he could fall asleep within minutes, a habit he had inherited from his dad. But he could bring himself to sleep as his phone didn't ring. As the walkie stayed silent. As the door remained untouched, no knock to be heard.

And it was stupid. Because Mike didn't want Steve to call him every day just to ask him if he was okay. It made him feel like a kid. It reminded Mike of his mom, but even his mom wasn't that bad. No, no one really did that for Mike. No one checked in day after day even as he remained uncaring towards them. No one but Steve.

Until now...

Mike watched the clock as it passed midnight, and his stomach twisted into knots. Fear bubbled up, and he pictured Steve getting into a fight he couldn't walk away from. He pictured a car crash so great that Steve was unable to reach for the walkie he carried with him everywhere. He pictured the worst- the Upside Down still around. The demogorgon coming up and dragging Steve into that hellpit.

Mike was up and pulling on a warm sweatshirt before those images were fully formed. He crawled out his window and down the roof, not too unlike the way Steve had done to visit Nancy. It left him already out of breath by the time he climbed on his bike. But that didn't stop him. He pushed off the ground, biking as fast as he could towards Loch Nora.

The cold air hot his face, and the road seemed to go on forever, but Mike didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Not until Steve's place was in view.

Mike tossed his bike uncarringly onto the pavement before slamming his fist into the Harrington's nice door. He didn't let up. He couldn't as an image of Steve dead in his own pool floated in his mind.

However, then the door was opening. Steve stood there, looking like he hadn't been asleep either. A smear of white powder on his cheek and a hollowness in his eyes. But still, something eased in Mike the same time Steve lost some of that weight in his shoulders as well. "You- you didn't-" Mike started, still out of breath. "Call. Why didn't you- call?" He gasped and Steve looked at him with a weird expression.

"You- What?" Steve questioned, sounding lost.

Mike crossed his arms, "I- you can't just stop!" He gasped out, and Steve's brow furrowed.

"But you don't like it when I do? I annoy you," he tries to point out, and Mike huffs.

"God, of course you annoy me! You track our days more intensly than my mom, and you always make dumb jokes, and I hate that I find them funny! You always call when I'm in the middle of something, and you make it easy to stay on the phone! You are always there like some weird older brother that I never asked for!" Mike shouts and Steve's eyes are wide.

"You don't have to stay around or call, but you do! You do, and you actually care. Like when you call and ask me if I'm okay, it feels like you care, and I don't understand why! I don't get you! I didn't ask you to care about me, but even when you were dating Nancy, you cared! You took Holly and me to get ice cream even though Nancy had to study! You give me and my friends rides everywhere! You care!" Mike throws his hands up in the air.

He glares at the older teen, "You care so much that I stupidly care about you! I care enough to come and check on you because when you didn't call, all I could think was that you were like dead or something," Mike snaps and takes a step back. "But you're obviously fine so-" and he wants to run suddenly. To run from the way Steve's eyes are filled with tears or the stupid words he just told the older teen.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly. "Mike, I stopped because I didn't think you wanted me to. You always acted like I was your least favorite person in the world and I guess I just- I didn't feel like it was fair to force you to put up with me just because I can't handle not knowing if you were okay." Steve said, and it didn't sound like the normal Steve. He sounded tired and nervous. He sounded like someone had finally beaten him

Mike bites his lip and tastes salt like he had been crying. Or maybe he still was. He crosses his arms like he can shield himself from this conversation. "But now you don't care enough to keep calling?"

Steve rubbed his face, a sigh shaking his whole body as he did. "I still care, kid."

Mike scoffs, "You didn't call."

Steve drops his hands to his sides. "Just come inside. It's too late for you to bike home. I'll call your place and leave a message." Steve says, his voice sounding close to tears. Mike is stiff when he lets Steve pull him inside.

They are quiet as Steve guides him towards the kitchen. The kitchen that has music playing softly and smelling like a bake sale. He blinks as he steps into the room and spots cookies cooling on a rack and a pie stilling uncooked on the counter. The top crust is sitting on the counter next to it. There's a smell of something in the oven, and Mike states at all of it in confusion.

"I bake when I can't relax," Steve admits, and Mike glances over at him. "I still care, and I was trying to give you space. I was trying not to crowd you, so I just," and he waves his hand around the mess everywhere. The smear of white on his cheek now makes sense.

Mike hugged himself, "I don't- I don't mind the calls." He whispered, and it got a snort from Steve.

He looked over at Mike, "I kinda got that from your speech."

They stood there in silence for another moment before Steve moved to finish putting his pie together. "I know that we aren't close or anything. But I care, it's not just the Upside Down making me anxious, it's just that-" and Steve went quiet. "I went overboard, I get it. But now I just- I can't stop." He admits, and Mike hates how upset Steve sounds. How guilty he sounds.

"I fall asleep easier knowing that if someone wasn't okay, we'd know because of you. It's like you take all the stress from me just by being around." He says, and Steve's eyes are wide. "Maybe we just do a sound off every night so you don't have to play phone tag all day." He shrugs, and Steve wrinkles his nose.

"I don't really get how to use the walkie. Like Dustin tried to show me, but he got distracted and started talking about radio waves and well..." Steve mimed it going over his head.

Mike snorted to hide how much that terrified him. The thought of something bad happening and Steve not being able to respond. But he pushed it away as Steve looked at him as if waiting for Mike to tease him. "That's fair. We did modify them, so they worked better. It's not as simple as your average walkie. I can show you," he offered, and Steve's face split into a grin.

"Cool, want to help me finish this so I can put it in the fridge until tomorrow? Then you can teach me the ways," Steve says, going all dramatic, proving to Mike he'd been spending too much time with Eddie. Mike groaned but came over only for Steve to shove him to the sink to wash his hands.

Steve showed him what to do, and Mike was glad to have Steve around. Because sure Steve's habit was annoying, and sometimes it interfered with Mike's plans, but it was nice too. Steve was nice. And that was something Mike ever believed would happen. But as Steve joked that Mike should not become a baker, he was nice. Like the way Mike was nice to Holly or how Nancy was nice to him. He was part of the family, annoyingly nice habits and all.

[steddielicious]

thinking about ace/demi Eddie being terrified to be with Steve. Like he sees the way Steve looks at him. Knows how he feels about Steve. Can't believe Steve might feel the same. So he tries to keep things friendly, backs off on the flirting.

But one day Steve actually asks him out. Like on a fucking actual real date. And Eddie wants to say yes. His whole being shaking with want. But he can't speak. Just shakes his head. And Steve backtracks, is all,

"oh. Yeah. No. That's- that's okay. Sorry if i- did i read this wrong? I thought-" and he looks so confused, sad eyes on Eddie, his hands fidgeting together in front of him. And Eddie can't fucking take it. He's like,

"You didn't read it wrong. I just... i can't... give you what you want. I don't like sex. Or like... i dont want it? Or might want it later, but not right now? I don't know. It's confusing. And hard to explain. I just-" he cuts off, his breath shaking in his chest and Steve's just looking at him, his face open and he's just listening, nods a little, encouraging Eddie to keep going. Eddie sighs, drops his head into his hands and mumbles.

"I just want you to be happy Steve. And i know you like sex. I'm sure its great. For you. But i don't... i don't care about it. I don't need it or really want it? I just... i like you so much Steve. And I'd genuinely love nothing more than to go out with you. And- and be with you. But just... not like that. At least not... not for awhile. Maybe not...ever." and Eddie's crying softly now, wipes at his face and looks up at Steve and see him looking back with the softest fucking look. He looks so fucking fond, and now Eddie's confused. His brow furrowed. And Steve scoots closer, reaches for Eddie's face and just cradles it and says,

"I just wanna be with you too Eddie. I don't need sex. That's not- i mean it's nice, really nice, sometimes. But i think... maybe it'd be nice to be with someone and not have it be about that? Is that- is that okay?" Steve moves his thumbs ovwr Eddie's cheeks, wiping the tears away.

"Steve. I might never want it. That's- that's a lot to ask i can't-"

"You're not asking. I'm offering." Steve licks his lips, takes a deep breath.

"I don't wanna be with you for sex. I like you Eddie. You're ridiculous, and smart, and kind, and so fucking weird. And you make me smile. You make me happy." Steve shrugs,

"That's why i wanna be with you. Cuz i like you. And i think you like me. So I'd like- I'd like to try. If you want?" His hand is on Eddie's thigh now. Eddie's heart is pounding. And Steve's still looking at him with that soft look. Eddie nods.

"Okay. Yeah. I wanna try. I want to." Eddie lays his hand over Steve's, he's shaking. Steve smiles at him, soft and sweet.

"Is kissing okay Eds? Cuz i really wanna kiss you right now." His smile grows as he talks, he looks giddy now, smiling like he can't help it. Eddie bites his lip, teeth digging into the bottom one as he smiles around them. He nods again.

"Yeah. Yeah kissing's okay." Eddie's says, breathless. Steve nods, his smile fading as he leans closer, his eyes on Eddie's mouth. Eddie closes his eyes when Steve's nose brushes his cheek, lets Steve lead.

It's just a soft press of lips, and then another. And then one more as Steve tilts his head the other way and slots their lips back together. His fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Eddie neck, not pulling, just resting there, holding Eddie close, like he's something precious. Like he's worth waiting for. Like he's happy just to have him, however he can.

Eddie smiles into the kiss. Feels Steve smile too, their teeth clicking as Steve keeps kissing him through their smiles, and eventual laughter. Steve kisses over his cheeks, and his nose, and his eyes, kisses all over his face until Eddie's laughing into his shoulder and Steve just holds him, laughing too, his hands moving over Eddie's back softly, holding him close as they settle together on the couch.

"I just want you, Eddie. Just you." Steve whispers, kisses Eddie's shoulder before Eddie pulls back and looks at him, tears in his eyes again.

"I want you too." Eddie shrugs, sniffles, wipes his face with the back of his hand. Steve smiles, bright and sweet, and tackles Eddie back onto the couch, settling on top of him and kissing him again and again and again.