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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos.

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter.

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt.

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then.

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole.

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out.

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh.

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks.

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.”

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve.

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time.

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country.

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here.

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn.

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears.

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken.

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening.

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone.

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone.

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs.

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone.

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt.

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters.

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car?

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho. And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is.

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says.

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums.

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish.

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham.

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else.

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time.

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again.

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles.

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands.

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest.

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses.

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees.

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink.

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before.

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt.

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips.

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful.

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message.

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out.

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall.

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently.

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it.

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them.

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock.

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex.

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner.

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity.

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly.

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!”

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd.

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument.

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares.

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder.

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

#gay bar au #steddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #featuring robin as the worlds worst wingman #i'm never not going to bully eddie for walking on those tables #'why does everyone here hate me🥺' mf it's bc you keep putting ur nasty ass shoes where people eat #i've said it before and i'll say it again. someone should have yanked on his leg and made him faceplant. he would have deserved it #we stay billy bashing 💪#in this au the byers didn't move to california #jonathan still goes to school there tho #why? bc he and argyle are soulmates and time and space moved for them to make sense next question #i need u to know eddie does not have sex magic and steve isn't actually as smooth as eddie thinks. they r just obsessed with each other #that one person who was in my notes truthing ab a stoncy threesome. i was excited when i saw that bc i had this written hope u see it <3

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chemartsblog · 4 years

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For Love of Sassy Brunettes

Pairing: Steve/any sassy brunette, BrOTP Steve & Bucky

Summary: Bucky knows there’s one thing that get’s Steve’s engine going: Sassy Brunettes.

For the Love of Sassy Brunettes

If Bucky could pin it on a singular event, he’d say that Steve found his fondness for brunettes when a nine-year old Chloe Dayzula saved his pasty ass from the local bullies. The girl was fierce with brown curls, tanned skin, brown eyes and a mouth that’s not afraid to sass anyone out. Normally, Bucky could easily take out Donald Stump and his crew, but he wasn’t there that day and those bullies tried too advantage of it.

Fortunately, Chole was, and she did not like seeing those bullies beating down the sick kid with asthma. From the way Steve and the other kids tell it, that spitfire literally kicked Donald Stump’s ass to the ground. Then she got in-between the bully and Steve, put her hands on her hips and yelled, “My dog’s got bigger balls than you, Stump. Go play on the train tracks if you wanna show off your manliness.”

That right there…that image of a strong sassy brunette defending the weak was burned into Steve’s memories forever.

When Bucky got on the scene, Steve was a stuttering red mess as he tried to thank the girl. “I-I don’t know how I could thank you, Chloe.” Steve mumbled, shifting slightly on his feet.

Chloe had grinned and batted her eyelashes prettily. “You could get ice cream with me.”

Steve looked like he just found gold on a well-trodden road. He smiles eagerly, “Y-yeah of course—em sure yeah!”

Bucky has to bite his fist to stop himself from laughing, but at least Chloe found it endearing. She laughed and took his hand, taking him towards the ice cream shop. When Steve looked back, Bucky gave him two thumbs up and mouths a ‘good luck’.

Steve and Chloe ‘date’ for a month until she had to leave with her parents to go to another state. It’s the first time Bucky sees Steve cry over a girl.

_*_*_

Over the years, Bucky starts seeing a trend in Steve’s crushes. Almost all of them are brunettes and who usually show a hint of fire in them. As far as Bucky knew, they were all girls until Yin Pothong transferred to school. The fourteen-year-old boy was tall, lithe and very very handsome. Even Bucky couldn’t stop his double glances at the teen’s exotic features. The wavy tussle of dark brown hair rested neatly on his head, his eyes a deep dark black that makes all the girls (and boys) melt.

They said his parents were mixed, which is why he looks so damn good. Bucky can believe it, and Steve definitely believed it.

It was probably the third time Steve tripped over his legs when Yin passed by during gym, and Bucky’s had enough of his friend’s painful mooning. So he does the ‘good friend’ thing and calls Yin over to them during break. The tall amiable boy smiles brightly and waves at Bucky and Steve.

“Hi Bucky.” Then he turns his brown eyes to his red quivering friend. “Hi Steve.”

Steve is a statue. A very red gaping statue.

Bucky clears his throat, “Ahem, y’know Yin, Steve is also a big fan of the Brooklyn Robins. We got tickets to one of the games on Saturday, but I can’t make it…” he hints.

Yin grins. “I’d be happy to; if Steve’s okay with it?” He answers glancing to the still statuesque teen.

Bucky discretely grinds down on Steve’s foot, and somehow snaps him out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah yes—well—I mean—that is—!”

An exasperated Bucky delivers another quick jab to the stuttering teen’s side, and Steve manages to get himself together to string a coherent sentence.

“Yes. Yes. I definitely wouldn’t mind. Love to have you there, Yin.” Steve finishes lamely.

It doesn’t seem to discourage Yin, which is a good sign. The handsome brunette takes out a piece of paper and writes his address and home number on it.

“Here, call me if anything comes up. Otherwise we should meet up at my place before the game. Probably 12? My mom probably would want to make lunch for us.” He says.

Steve takes the piece of paper like it’s the most precious artifact in the world, and looks at Yin with wide eyes. “Y-yeah 12 is good.”

“Great! See you then, Steve.” And Yin takes off, heading towards another group of people.

Bucky grins, “Smooth dude.”

“Shut up, Buck. You were the same way with Mellissa.”

“That’s because I got lost in those massive tits.”

Steve slaps his friend’s arm playfully. “You’re an animal.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” Bucky grins.

They pause and Steve asks carefully, “So you’re okay if I’m…a little queer?”

Bucky grins and ruffles his friend’s hair. “Tits, pecs, dicks, vag’s. Doesn’t matter to me. You’re still the most awkward fucking dude I know.”

“Ha-ha.” Steve retorts, but there’s a relieved grin on his face.

_*_*_

One of the strangest things Bucky starts recalling during his imprisonment is all the faces of Steve’s crushes. For whatever reason, the drone of the names and faces going through his brain are enough to keep him relatively sane during the kooky doctor’s experiments.

If some of the guards give him weird looks every time he starts listing the names of Steve’s sassy brunette crushes, well…he’s too tired of Nazi shit to care.

In fact he’s just in the middle of talking about Yin when lo and behold Steve comes barging through the door. Well he thinks it’s Steve, but this Steve is waaay bigger than the Steve he remembers. Is this a hallucination?

“Who’s the sassy brunet who saved you on the playground when Donald came after you?” Bucky asks suspiciously. Big-Steve snorts and answers, “Chloe Dayzula. My first crush.”

Bucky looks him up and down. “Huh. What happened to you?”

“I joined the army.” Is the easy answer.

Whatever, Bucky’s too tired to complain or think too hard on it.

_*_*_

The moment Bucky recovered and laid eyes on Elizabeth ‘Peggy’ Carter, he knew. He didn’t even have to look at Steve standing beside him. Peggy is the whole package, and he’s going to gloat at their wedding.

Honestly, Bucky gets it. Peggy is hot, dangerous and has the look of someone who’s not afraid to kick your ass. He’d be jealous if it was anyone but Steve. As it was, he’s more than happy to play wingman to the dork. And Steve really needs it. The two idiots dance around each other like nobody’s business. It’s one of the worst cases of pining Bucky’s ever seen. The air around them tense and sizzling with unsaid promises. Every eye at the bar on the two, asking will they? Are they?

It’s kinda cute how Steve’s changed so much but still retained that awkward boyish attitude when it comes to women. Bucky would have laughed if he hadn’t seen this same dance for the past eighteen years. Still, it’s cute that Steve found a dangerously hot brunette in the army of all things.

Bucky puts down his drink and sits across from Steve, eyes gleaming and smirk sharp.

“So…Peggy.” He starts.

Steve sighs, “Bucky…”

“What?” he asks innocently. “I’m just stating the name of our very pretty, very brunette, and very spicy lady.”

“If she hears you say that she’ll fill you with lead and then turn you inside out before doing it again.” Steve retorts.

Bucky shivers. “Yup you’re right about that, but what if you said that?”

“She’d have to use the bigger guns.”

“Alright, fair enough.” Bucky acquiesces. “But seriously, it’s like I wasn’t even there. Did you forget that I was standing next to you?”

Steve chuckles. “I could never forget you, Bucky.”

“Better not. I snagged you that hot boyfriend, Yin.”

“No you didn’t.” Steve denies.

“Yes I did, Steve don’t even start. If I hadn’t dropped in with that whole, ‘oh no. I can’t go to the baseball game’ schtick, you’d have been mooning over him until he moved.”

The larger man sighs, “Yeah you’re probably right. He was something.”

“Like a Peggy something?” Bucky grins.

Steve pushes Bucky, and this time, it actually topples the man down.

“Oh shoot, I’m sorry Buck!” Steve cries as he helps his friend up. Bucky waves him away.

“Eh bound to happen someday.” He says. “But you owe me.”

“What do you want?”

“I call best man.” Bucky grins.

Steve laughs. “Win the war first; then we can talk about weddings.”

(Bucky’s last thought as he falls is: Damn I’ll miss my best friend’s wedding.)

_*_*_

Seventy years would change everything and nothing. Steve convinced him to stay after the whole Hydra debacle, and they were able to rescue his mind with Stark and Shuri’s help. The first thing he does after staggering out of the pod is hug Steve, holding onto his brother and best friend tightly.

“Sorry about Peggy.” He mutters.

Steve smiles sadly and pats his back, “It’s okay. She lived a good life.”

“I’m glad.”

Of course, Stark isn’t really one for sappy reunions and snaps at the two. “Uhhh…why don’t I see any loving for the two amazing geniuses that recovered your brain?” he sasses. “I’m just saying that we saved your brain. With our brains and a lot of cool science stuff.”

Bucky glares at the man and then turns to Steve. He leans close to his ear and whispers, “I swear to God Steve if you’ve got a boner for that guy…”

The silence and tension in his shoulders is all he needs to know. Bucky groans and drops his head against Steve’s shoulder.

“Uuuugggghhhh.” He intones dramatically.

Steve pats his head. “Sorry, buddy.”

“You owe me so much for this.”

_*_*_

At least Steve makes good on his promise and gives Bucky the honor of best man. Take that Sam!

Bucky raises his glass in a toast and grins. “Tony, of all the sassy brunettes that Steve has liked over the years, you would be the last one I thought Steve would marry.”

Tony sends him the middle finger, but Bucky just laughs it off and continues. “But you really stepped up and showed that you’re the best one for my brother. So best of luck to Steve and you. You’re probably the only two people who could marry each other without going insane.”

The dining hall is filled with laugher and applause as Bucky bows and takes a seat. After the wedding ceremony, Steve comes up and gives him a hug and a playful punch. Stark actually does the human thing and gives Bucky a proper hug too.

“Wow is the world ending?” Bucky jokes.

Tony rolls his eyes. “You weren’t funny seventy years ago and you aren’t funny now.”

“Rude. Steve are you going to let your husband talk to your brother-in-law like that?”

Said man rolls his eyes in response. “I’m not getting in-between your weird play-feuds. Just don’t have another Poptart incident.”

“Hey that was all Thor.” Tony complains.

Bucky nods vigorously, “Yeah we hardly had anything to do with it!”

“Clint, Bruce and Tasha think differently. Even Thor thinks differently.”

“Figures.” Bucky mutters. “They always blame the class clowns.”

“I’m more of a class genius.” Tony retorts.

Before the two can get into another bickering session, Steve hauls them towards the photographer. They get one good picture, and then Bucky somehow gets cake all over Tony and it’s just pandemonium from there. Steve is fine with it. It wouldn’t be a Stony wedding without an impromptu food fight.

_*_*_

Bucky should have known something like this would happen. Steve is the biggest sap he knew and Tony is no better. Especially when it comes in a cute seven-year-old package.

Steve saved this tiny child from a bombing in Queens. Unfortunately, poor Peter lost his aunt and uncle during the attack, leaving the child with no home to go to. Steve only had to give the authorities his best, Captain America look before they’re handing him the paperwork to take the child into his temporary custody once Peter’s been cleared by the doctor’s.

Bucky should have known it would be anything but temporary.

And it got worse when Tony found out the child’s potential genius. The two children were busy playing in the lab all day, and Steve just looked over them like a proud mother duck. Bucky would have torn his hair out if it wasn’t so damn cute.

Of course, Tony and Steve filed for adoption within a week of knowing Peter, and soon they’ll have a newly minted Peter Parker-Stark-Rogers.

Bucky sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, while Steve gives him the biggest puppy-dog eyes as he tucks Peter close.

“Steve.” Bucky says.

“Bucky.”

His friend looks at Steve then at the small child in Steve’s arms and honestly, Bucky’s a stupid sap too because he gets it.

“I call godfather.” Bucky replies.

“You’ll have to fight, Clint, Thor, and Bruce for that honor.” Steve answers.

“What about godmother?”

“You’ll have to fight Tasha and Pepper for it.”

“I’ll try my hand at godfather.”

“Good idea.”

Bucky shakes his head in amusement. “I always knew you had a weakness for sassy brunettes, but this wasn’t what I expected to come out of it.”

“Because I married Tony?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head and looks meaningfully at the small child who’s building some kind of spider robot with Legos.

Steve looks offended and gasps. “Peter is not sassy.”

“Yeah Uncle Buck, I’m not sassy. I’m an angel.” Peter…well sasses.

His old friend only has to give Steve a look and the sheepish man just shoots Bucky a wry grin.

“What can I say? I have a type.”

#stony #marvel mcu #steve rogers #tony stark #bucky barnes #fanfiction #fic #art #peter parker #steve and tony adopt peter #platonic stukky

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