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dawneternal · 2 months

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✨ A Court of Mischief and Matchmaking ✨

Summary: Feyre, the meddling matchmaker, devises a plan to speed up the numerous budding romances in the Night Court. A mischievous human game called 'spin the bottle'

Meant to be silly and fun. Includes a few crack ships.

Post Azriel bonus chapter. Pro-gwyriel and pro-lucien undertones. And pro-the-batboys-have-kissed-at-least-once-before

Rating: Just kissing

Word Count: 4k

Ao3 link

Feyre, ever the observant busybody, had been watching the interactions at family dinners with extra care for a while now. She had noticed a great many things while doing so. She also knew that Rhys, who rarely turned off the spying instincts in his brain, had noticed these things as well. But he did nothing but store them away in case they became important later.

Feyre was not as content to stay idle. Her observations stirred a restlessness within her, a desire to stick her hands into the situation and help. Not necessarily to interfere, but to grant momentum to anything that was already in motion.

Elain, who had once been growing bolder in her interactions with Azriel, had abruptly become quiet in his presence. She still conversed with everyone else, but carefully kept her gaze away from his. Gwyn, however, snuck small glances at the shadowsinger quite frequently, growing in number with every family dinner she attended.

Emerie looked for Mor at every chance, though she hid her disappointment well when the blonde was absent. But Feyre still noticed the slight droop to her wings and the dampened glimmer in her eyes.

The longing in Lucien's own eyes had never ceased, though he had learned that giving Elain any focused attention would only lead to rejection and embarrassment. Feyre could almost see the wilting bond between them, and the golden possibility of happiness if it was allowed to bloom.

Rhysand noticed his mate's expression as she watched it all. The determination, glints of sadness and hope. He smiled to himself, wondering when she would present a plan to him.

And sure enough, after dinner one night, she crawled into his lap as he sat at work in his study, looping her arms around his neck.

"I have a bit of a plan," She said, watching his face while he read the paper in his hand.

"What is that, my love?" He asked, running his fingers over her back with his free hand.

"I want to nudge fate a little bit. Just push it along if I can."

"Is that so?"

"I know you know what I'm talking about," she grumbled, grasping his chin and turning his gaze toward her. He relented, smiling down at her with happy violet eyes.

"Tell me your plan, matchmaker." He hummed, resting his forehead against hers.

"I want to play spin the bottle," She said firmly. Rhys's eyebrows shot upwards as he pulled back to look at her.

"And risk having to kiss any of the others?"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Feyre laughed, "imagine the mischief and tell me it doesn't sound fun."

He had, already. And he agreed with her. But that would not stop his desire to tease.

"Wouldn't it trigger your territorial tendencies to watch me kiss someone else?" He asked her with a sly smile.

"You're the possessive one," Feyre scoffed, "I'm wondering if you can handle it."

"As long as you make it up to me," Rhys whispered, caressing the bridge of his nose along her cheekbone.

Feyre knew this was his permission and agreement to play along. The matchmaker inside her glowed and began plotting with new fervor.

***

"We're going to play a game tonight," Feyre announced to the group, "One that I remembered from the human lands."

It was a rare night when the entire family was all together. Mor had returned from the continent, Lucien had returned to check in, and all three Valkyries had managed to attend. Feyre had waited for a night like this patiently. Nyx laid down after dinner with no fuss, as if he knew his mother's intentions.

Then they had all settled in the living room, a fire in the hearth and various drinks in their hands. Feyre had drawn the furniture in a little closer together, forming a misshapen oval. If anyone had noticed, they hadn't said a thing.

"What game?" Nesta asked, suspiciously, squinting at her sister.

"Spin the bottle," Feyre crossed her arms and looked back at her sister in challenge. She was met with a few laughs throughout the room.

"Oh, we have spin the bottle here, too," Mor snorted, holding her stomach as she laughed.

"But no bottle," Lucien noted, hoping this may deter the shenanigans.

Mor only held up a finger, then grabbed her wine bottle and held it to her lips, downing it in a most unladylike fashion. She set it on the floor in the middle of their circle and slumped back in her chair, wiping the wine from her lip with one hand and pointing at Feyre with the other.

"High Lady goes first," Mor grinned.

"Everyone has to agree first," Rhys said, chuckling at his cousin's eagerness. "Though I'm not above using a High Lord's command. We all know how I enjoy giving Feyre what she wants."

He looked around the room, met with a chorus of reluctant and eager agreements. Cassian and Mor seemed to be the most enthusiastic, as was typical for most proposed games and festivities. Even Gwyn nodded, though she blushed bright pink and fidgeted in her chair. Azriel, though, said nothing. He sat back in his chair with his arms crossed, absolutely glowering at his brother.

"What's the matter, Az?" Rhysand grinned at this brother, "A bit out of practice?"

Feyre cringed, but Rhysand had struck the right cord. Something flashed in Azriel's eyes and he gritted out a "fine."

Amren, however, grabbed her wine glass and retreated to the bay window.

"I'm not playing," she scowled, curling up against a pile of plush pillows. There were a few sad sounds, but no one pushed her. Her Summer Court lover was not here, tonight, and she would have nothing to do with the rest of them. A High Lord's command only seemed to work on her about half the time anyways.

"Alright then," Feyre grinned and leaned down to spin the empty wine bottle, "let the game begin."

They all watched in silence as the bottle spun around and around, rattling against the floorboards, and slowed to a stop, pointing at Lucien.

Feyre and Lucien looked at each other, something akin to displeasure mirrored on their faces. This, of course, was noted with guffaws and cheers from their audience. Feyre did not look at Rhys, knowing exactly what he would say into her mind if she did. Her own words, mimicked back to her; 'It's a risk I'm willing to take.'

So Feyre swallowed her pride and met Lucien in the middle of the circle. Lucien wasted no time, bringing his hand to her cheek and meeting her lips to get it over with. Not much longer than a peck, there was no semblance of spark passed between them. At one point, human Feyre may have jumped at the chance to kiss him. But now that he was involved with her sister, all of that desire had died.

They pulled apart, looking at each other for a moment before both shrugged and returned to their seats. Cassian and Nesta cheered and Mor was laughing again. Rhys's eyes twinkled at her as she turned to sit back down, clearly amused. She snuck a quick glance at her sister and found Elain's face flushed, but her expression was unreadable.

"Your turn," she flashed Rhys a smug grin as she returned to her spot curled up beside him.

Rhysand sighed and spun the bottle. Feyre noted Gwyn's pale face and wondered if she would refuse to kiss the High Lord if it landed on her. To Gwyn's apparent relief, the bottle pointed at Cassian.

Cassian grinned, pulling his arm from around Nesta's shoulder to beckon him. Rhys swaggered across to Cassian with a matching smirk. He stood to the side of the loveseat so as not to block Feyre's view. Hands tangling in Cassian's hair, he leaned in and kissed him. It was certainly not as shy as Feyre and Lucien's had been, quite the opposite. Passionate and almost sloppy, deepening with every second they pulled each other closer. And Cassian's hand slid over Rhys's jaw with an ease and familiarity that made Feyre wonder how often this had happened in the past 500 years.

Very aware of the reactions that had spread throughout the room, they grinned after pulling away. Like the show-offs they were. Rhysand cleared his throat and straightened his shirt, and Cassian merely slid his arm back around his mate's shoulder, meeting her bewildered look with a smug smile.

Feyre wrinkled her nose as she noted the gleam in her sister's smouldering eyes that hinted at her arousal. Amren snorted at the scene from her corner. Feyre's eyebrows raised as her mate turned back toward her, and he flashed her a look that said I'll explain later.

"Gwyn," Rhys gestured to her as he took his seat, arm draping over Feyre's legs.

Gwyn paled again, but swallowed hard and spun the bottle, albeit a bit feebly. Feyre thought she saw the quickest of glances towards Azriel as she did so. Feyre eyed the shadowsinger from her peripheral. He was stoic as always, though one shadow near his ankle was trying to tug away from him, toward the priestess. As if he could barely keep it contained. Interesting.

Gwyn's spin landed on Nesta, and Mor gave a particularly loud cheer. Gwyn's giggling smile was infectious, her bubbling laughter pulling smiles from the whole group's faces, even Amren.

Nesta grinned back at her and crossed the circle before Gwyn could move. She grasped Gwyn's face in both hands and gave her a short but loving kiss, adding a peck to the tip of her nose and forehead. Feyre's heart warmed at the affection they held for each other, deepened by their experiences in the Blood Rite. Nesta's friends were the best thing to come out of her move to the house of wind, and Feyre took no credit for it. Nesta had done it all on her own. Emerie and Gwyn exchanged giggling looks and elbowed each other as Nesta sauntered away.

Emerie was next and she quickly sobered upon realizing. She reached for the bottle and spun, sighing as she waited for it to reveal her fate. The bottle stopped, pointing at Mor, and half the room held their breath.

Mor, slightly tipsy from finishing the bottle, smiled at Emerie with wine-red lips and went to meet her in the middle. It was the most nervous the other Valkyries had ever seen Emerie. She was notoriously unshakable. Her only weakness, apparently, was pretty blondes in low cut dresses.

Mor slid one hand into Emerie's curls and met her lips. It was shy to start, but quickly grew heated as they pulled each other closer, heads tilting to deepen the kiss. Mor grasped Emerie's waist as Emerie's own hand settled on Mor's neck, thumb sweeping across her jaw. Cassian whistled, but they didn't seem to hear it. As their kiss-turned-make-out began to go on just a bit too long, Mor's hand starting to reach below Emerie's waist, Rhysand cleared his throat loudly.

They jumped apart, breathing heavy, looking at each other with glazed eyes. Mor broke into a smile and Emerie laughed as they reluctantly let each other go. Gwyn's eyebrows waggled back and forth as Emerie returned to her seat. Rhys flashed Feyre a look, and in her mind asked is this what you were hoping for? She ignored him, tossing her hair over her shoulder. But she was smiling, too.

They all glanced at Nesta, who looked as if she had hoped no one would realize it was her turn. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, uncrossing her arms to reach for the bottle. Feyre knew better, of course. Her sister enjoyed this sort of game. She saw it as a challenge.

Feyre saw it in her eyes, that glimmer of determination as the bottle landed on Rhys. Rhys blinked, lifting his gaze to Nesta to see what she would do. She gave him a sly smile, the challenger showing through. So, Rhys gathered his own resolve and rose to meet her.

Feyre had gone through the game in her mind earlier that day, knowing who she hoped would be paired, and who she hoped would manage to stay away from each other. Somehow, she had not considered this possibility. Either her sister would devour her mate whole (and not in a good way), or the other way around and there would be no Nesta left at the end. This may not end well.

What Feyre had not expected, was for Rhysand to grab Nesta's face gently in his hands and press a soft, deep kiss to her mouth. But she knew right away why he had done it. Nesta was not expecting the tender, coaxing kiss that he gave her. She had expected him to fight, had grabbed the collar of his shirt in her fists in anticipation of something cruel and bruising.

So when his lips met hers so gently, dragging her into the depths of his night-kissed affection, she lost herself for a moment. Just a moment. The room was full of wide eyes and baited breaths as the pair pulled apart, waiting to see what the fallout would be.

Nesta stared at him through her lashes in a way that revealed the girl in her, slowly unravelling her fingers from the fabric of his shirt. Rhysand smiled back at her, real kindness in it as if to bring her back to herself gradually. It spread into a sly grin, and Nesta blushed, finally realizing that Rhys had won.

She tossed her head in response, not noticing the jealousy that took over her mate's face. Cassian was not very jealous as a general rule. But apparently Rhysand, who Cassian looked up to so much, was one of the few that posed a true threat in the warrior's mind.

"I suppose I can see it," She said, her voice a little unsteady as she waved a dismissive hand toward Feyre.

Of course, Rhysand was absolutely delighted with himself. This was a boost to his ego that he certainly had not needed. When the others were sure that a brawl had been avoided, they burst into howling laughter. Nesta was above it all, looking down her nose at the rabble with her arms crossed once again. Cassian tucked her closer into his side, eyes ablaze.

Then he realized that it was his turn, and he could seize the opportunity to make Nesta jealous in turn. He all but jumped to give the bottle a spin.

The bottle, ironically, pointed to Nesta. Feyre, who had felt Rhys power flicker, looked up at him. He gave her the tiniest of smiles back.

The group let out a collective groan, having been subjected to the couple's displays countless times. Gwyn raised her hand in a preemptive measure, shielding herself from any obscene thing about to happen.

Nesta gave him a warning look, but Cassian did not hesitate to pounce on her, wrapping his arms around Nesta and devouring her with the same fervor he applied to battle. For all Nesta's airs of irritation and impatience, she smiled against his lips as she kissed him back. When they pulled apart, unprompted for once, she was flushed and beaming. No one could hold a candle to her warrior, after all. All of Cassian's jealousy seemed to have washed away.

Next in rotation was Mor, who grinned and stretched her arms above her head, as if to prepare. She spun the bottle with a flick of her wrist, eyes never moving as it whirled around.

And landed on Azriel.

Her eyes snapped up to his, hints of anxiety on both of their features. And of course, the anxiety of the group rippled back toward them, nearly palpable. It annoyed Azriel as hit him like a wave. Like they all thought he would fall apart the second she touched him. Mor looked at him like she was contemplating whether to turn him down. But she saw the twitch of his jaw and understood.

Mor stood and made her way to him, dropping down on his lap as he looked up at her. His hand wrapped around her waist as if on instinct, as if he had thought about what to do in this moment countless times. As usual, his shadows hurried away to hide from Mor's glowing aura. Inside, Azriel was bracing to laugh it off as the others had. Make it a joke, something lighthearted.

But the way she looked at him, eyes glimmering as if she were holding back tears, stirred the deep well of emotions in his chest. She threaded her fingers through his curls, brushing her thumb over his temple as she kissed him. Tenderly, he pulled her in tighter. But there was no longing in their kiss, as the others may have expected. There was an undertone of sadness.

Mor pulled away, resting her forehead against his as her hand slid down to hold his face. Then they locked eyes, something invisible passing between them as they held each other. Feyre blushed a little, feeling like she was peering in on something she shouldn't be. It seemed to be a shared sentiment, everyone but shamless Amren averting their gaze. Feyre did notice that Elain had been looking anywhere else since the moment Mor had stood up. And Gwyn looked as though she was holding her breath. Nothing like jealousy or animosity anywhere on her face, she was only waiting to see what would happen.

When Mor finally untangled herself from him and Feyre could read his face, she found...gratitude? Then she understood, something twisting in her heart at the bittersweetness of it. Mor had been saying goodbye. To whatever had been growing and wilting between them in a perpetual cycle for centuries now. She felt her mate squeeze her hand and she looked at him to see the gleam of a single tear at the corner of his eye.

The tension lifted as Mor returned to her chair and they all realized Elain was next. Elain was sometimes a wild card to Feyre, who had not known if Elain would love or hate this game. But she hadn't turned it down, despite her apparent discomfort when Azriel had chosen the chair next to hers before the game had been proposed.

But right now, Elain had a bit of mischief hiding behind her smile. She gave the bottle a spin and sat back, waiting.

The room was in uproar when it came to a stop on Cassian.

"Did he put a magnet in that thing or something?" Lucien muttered, earning another wave of laughter.

But Elain took the challenge. And it was not the shadowsinger she looked at before making her way to Cassian, nor her mate who was expertly masking any emotion he felt. It was Nesta she glanced at, something haughty in it that insinuated revenge.

Cassian did not have time to react before Elain grabbed the collar of his shirt and hauled him toward her. Her usual temperament was nowhere to be seen, some sly vixen replacing the proper lady. Elain kissed him hard, so hard it pushed him backwards, her lips working against his feverishly. Cassian tried to meet her pace but she had taken him off guard.

She finished her display by pulling his bottom lip between her teeth and releasing his shirt to let him slump back on the couch. Nesta looked at her sister incredulously, too surprised to show any anger. Whatever it was that existed between Elain and Nesta had been leveled, that was certain. Nesta saw her sisters demand for what it was. Don't underestimate me again.

Cassian was still silent with bewilderment, his eyes a little glazed over. Her kiss may have held a message for Nesta, but Elain also reveled in the chance to shake Cassian up a little bit. Rhys broke the stunned silence, howling in laughter at his brother's surprise. It was not very often that Cassian was bested in such a way. He had not expected anything like it from demure Elain. Especially not in front of her mate and the shadowsinger. Which Rhys figured was likely why she'd agreed to play the game in the first place.

Feyre whipped her head toward them, remembering that they existed. Azriel showed nothing, but Feyre figured he may still be sorting through anything that Mor's gesture had brought up inside him. But Lucien...Lucien kept his expression neutral but she could tell he was positively boiling under the surface. She could sense the power coursing through his blood as he tried to keep it in check. Cassian was too distracted to consider Lucien, the typically cordial redhead currently plotting his violent demise.

"Spy master," Rhysand said, easing the attention away from Elain and her mate, "your turn."

Azriel sighed, but did as he was told. He seemed as eager to get this over with as Lucien had been. The room stilled for a moment as the bottle landed between Lucien and Feyre's chairs, pointing straight at Amren on the window seat, half-asleep with an empty wine glass in hand. She realized they all stared at her and shook herself awake.

"I'm not playing," She snapped, curling into herself further.

"Come on, Amren," Rhys goaded. Someone began a chant of her name and soon they were all cheering and coaxing.

Azriel stood in the center, grinning at her, holding out a hand. Perhaps he should have been scared, but there was not anyone else he particularly wanted to kiss. Certainly not during a game in front of a jeering audience. This, at least, could be entertaining.

Amren flipped them off, but set her wineglass on the floor and stepped inside the circle of chairs and sofas. As soon as she was within distance, Azriel snatched her around the waist and dipped her low, pressing his lips to hers in an admittedly very romantic and passionate kiss. It lingered for the perfect amount of time. Long enough for her to process the gesture but not long enough to elicit a punishment from her. He pulled her upright again and let her go, grinning in anticipation of her response.

"Very well, shadowsinger," Amren sniffed and smoothed her dress.

The cheers, laughter, and whistling erupted again, the loudest of the night. Spin the bottle was not typically a game with a winner, but somehow Azriel had bested them all. Despite the dramatic displays of Rhysand and Elain, the spark between Mor and Emerie, the emotion of Mor's goodbye, Azriel had undoubtedly received the highest praise of anyone. Not only had Amren refrained from ripping him to shreds, but gave him a near-compliment and looked a bit dizzy. Of course, that would be going straight to Azriel's head.

Feyre peeked at Gwyn once more. She and Emerie were laughing heartily, but Gwyn's face was flushed, eyes glittering in such a way that the matchmaker wondered if Gwyn would be picturing herself in Amren's place.

There was one more turn to anticipate, tonight. Though everyone knew, including Lucien, that nothing would top Azriel's turn. Azriel wooing Amren would go down in history, now a part of the lore of the inner circle.

Lucien gave the bottle it's last spin, looking a little tired as he waited for it to stop. And then-

"No, absolutely not." Lucien held up his hand as the bottle pointed toward Cassian. Mor was doubled over with laughter and Nesta had to wipe tears from her eyes. Cassian tried to look offended, but was not even effectively holding back his own giggles.

"Game over," Lucien declared as he caught Elain stifling a laugh. He picked up the bottle and tossed it in the trash. The raucous laughter continued, Gwyn and Emerie clutching each other for support. Even Azriel laughed with the rest of them, the tips of his ears turning pink with mirth.

Feyre, quite pleased with herself and the results of her plan, did not argue Lucien. Several courses had been set as a result of her meddling. And she was already planning the next step.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #cassian #azriel #valkyries #nesta #elain #feyre #feysand #nessian #elucien #gwynriel #fanfic #fanfiction #spin the bottle #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction

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hoffmannwrites · 1 year

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On My List

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 + 1 Masterlist

Author’s Note: Look at me! New fic, new fandom, new style, ouhhh! So new, so shiny! Anywho, this is a 5+1 fic based off THIS text post which has been rattling around in my brain for weeks. Thank you @stevietruther for the insufferable thoughts in my brain.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Description: 5 Times Steve and Eddie kiss as friends, and one time they don't.

Warnings/Tags: Everyone lives, Nobody dies, 5+1, Kissing, Fluff, Idiots to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, some pretty brief mentions for drinking, smoking, being inebriated (the gang is drunk here but nothing too bad, just in a fun way), uhhh they're gay your honor, no beta we die like Barb, let me know if I missed anything?

You Spin Me Right Round

One

The first time Steve and Eddie kiss is also the first time Steve kisses Robin and Eddie kisses Argyle. It’s just the older members of the party and a few random acquaintances that tag along, and there ain’t shit to do but get high and drunk and play party games. Later into the night, when everyone is inebriated enough to feel comfortable around each other and they have managed to lose both beer pong balls, Vicki suddenly perks up, chest a blotchy bright red under her button up. “We should play spin the bottle,” she announces, feigning bravery with a hopeful glance in Robin’s direction.

“Oh fuck, seriously?” complains Steve, who is already doing a mental inventory of the people there and how terrible it would be to kiss all of them. Well, most of them, at least.

“What? You afraid someone’s gonna realize that Big Bad Sex God Harrington isn’t actually all he’s cracked up to be?” teases Eddie, pushing his shoulder into Steve’s with a huge smile on his face.

“No- that’s not- I just…the ratio is off!” Steve sputters, going hot under the collar. He knows that at least one of the girls is a lesbian and the other is his ex girlfriend and the OTHER is the girl his best friend has a crush on. And as he has this thought, his eyes shift to Robin who is wringing her hands in her lap, not looking anyone in the eye. Oh. Oh. This is her chance. To kiss Vickie without any one thinking too much about it. To see if Vickie is as into her as she is. To see if there are sparks, without any pressure. Because it’s just a drunken game.

“We’re actually gonna motor,” says Jeff, getting up off the floor and pointing to the two Hellfire members behind him. “As much as I would LOVE to stay and lock lips with Munson, some of us have actual jobs in the morning. And Gareth is 1 beer away from ralphing on Harrington’s front lawn.” Gareth just shrugs, knowing he is notorious for over imbibing.

The three Hellfire boys make their way out the door, leaving just the usual suspects and, of course, Vicki.

“See? Almost even now, Harrington. Pass me that empty Seagram’s,” says Eddie, oblivious to the fact that this is, by all accounts, a horrible idea.

“You go first if you’re so intent on planting one on all of us, Eds,” Steve replies, determined to call the older man’s bluff.

“Gladly.” And with that, Eddie spins the empty bottle and watches smugly as it settles on Argyle.

“Oh, come to Daddy, Surfer Boy!” Eddie exclaims, shooting his eyes from the bottle up to Argyle, who had already leaned over the bottle towards Eddie expectantly.

“Dude. I’m expecting greatness. Lay it on me, bro!” Argyle says so seriously it was startling and puckers his lips in the most cartoonish way possible. Eddie grabs his face with both hands and lays one quick and dramatic kiss directly to the other boy’s lips, complete with a loud “Mwah!” Sound effect added. Everyone chuckled at the display, all relaxing slightly due to the fact that the first victims of the game were the two must unserious people of the group, who had no problem breaking the ice.

The game continues, with Jonathan landing on Vickie. He decides to chivalrously go for a kiss on the hand, as he previously declared his loyalty to Nancy. Nancy lands on Robin and kisses her softly on the cheek, sighting the same reason as Jonathan. Argyle goes next and ends up landing on Jonathan. He kisses the photographer lightly on his forehead and pets his hair, which left Jonathan furrowing his brow, but laughing nonetheless. Vickie goes next. Robin holds her breath as the bottle spins and spins and spins for what feels like a lifetime until it lands on…Robin. The girls lock eyes immediately and Vickie subconsciously ducks her head and pushes a piece of hair behind her ear. They turn to each other and just kiss. No preamble or bullshit explanations or disclaimers. They just kiss softly and sweetly for a few moments before breaking away. Neither girl says anything, but Robin is noticeably redder in the face and Vickie seems to lean into her just slightly for the rest of the night.

Next is Robin’s turn and although she prays to whatever high power she can think of for the bottle to land on Vicki again, it lands on Steve. “Ugh man, no! Gross!” Robin whines. “Dems da rules, sugar plum,” Eddie smirks and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Fuck. Fine! But Capital P, guys. I’m so serious,” she warns everyone before turning to Steve. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my best not to woo you with my masculine charms,” Steve says before kissing her so quickly that if anyone blinked they would have missed it.

“Ew,” she states simply when it’s over and wipes off her lips dramatically, like a petulant child wiping away a kiss from their mother. Steve silently takes the bottle and spins it, just begging that it lands on anyone except his ex girlfriend. Anyone! Anyone at all even…Eddie. It stops on Eddie and Steve looks at him, like a big brown eyed idiot in headlights, all that previous confidence gone. Eddie clears his throat, shuffles almost uncomfortably. “So, you gonna show me what Hawkins’s Most Eligible has to offer?” he asks, trying so hard to look like he’s not sweating bullets.

And Steve is just drunk enough that he’s got the balls to shut Eddie up the way he’s been thinking about for months, since he was called “big boy” in that stupid trailer when the world was ending. Suddenly, Steve is all siren-eyes and sex appeal, letting his voice drop just a little when he almost whispers “Get ready, big boy,” and grabs Eddie by the back of the neck. Steve tilts Eddie up just enough and takes his sweet time leaning in and ghosting over Eddie’s lips, just enough to make him shiver a little, but not enough for anyone to notice. They share each others air for a fraction of a second before Steve leans in the rest of the way and kisses Eddie, really kisses him, the way he’s been doing to girls for years. And Eddie kisses back, just enough that somewhere in the back of the rockers head, red flags and sirens are going off. But he doesn’t notice, too lost in the feeling of Steve on him to register anything else. They separate after what feels like entirely too long for a kiss during spin the bottle, and wait with bated breath. What for, they’re not sure. But no one says anything and the air feels like it’ll shatter is if they do. And then the moment is gone, because the doorbell rings and Argyle jumps up, chanting “Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!” And suddenly they’re all too hungry to focus on that moment that felt just a little too charged. The rest of the night, Eddie and Steve take turns sneaking glances at each other, like they’re really noticing each other for the first time. But come the morning, everyone is too hazy on the night before to read into it. They all remember the nights activities, but no one thinks to question the tension, chalking it up to being cross faded. Except Eddie suddenly pays a lot more attention to Steve.

A/N: Fun fact! Wine coolers came out in the early 80s and have only gotten better tasting and more hangover inducing since!

#Steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #Steve x eddie #Steve Harrington x Eddie munson #stranger things #fluff #hoffmannwrites #5 + 1 #5 + 1 fic #spin the bottle #everyone lives/nobody dies #they're gay your honor #idiots to lovers #friends to lovers #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction

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