#LexsWinterFicChallenge

[sparkle-fiend]

Here is my entry for the Spicy Six Winter Fic Challenge hosted by @thefreakandthehair (thanks so much to you and @unclewaynemunson for the awesome events this month!) My prompt was “kiss in the snow”.

Eddie is ladling a mixture of brown sugar, cinnamon, and mashed sweet potatoes into a baking dish when the phone rings. He nearly drops the bowl, hastily wiping the sticky orange mixture off his fingers before answering.

“Munson’s House of Holiday Horrors, Eddie speaking,” he intones cheerfully. Steve snorts with laughter on the other end of the line.

“What if it hadn’t been me calling?”

“It’s Christmas Eve Stevie, and everyone we know is out of town. Who else would be calling?” He knows the exact expression that will be on Steve’s face right now. He’ll be trying not to smile, which will twist his lips into a crooked little smirk instead. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite expressions. “How was work today?”

“Awful. Remind me never to agree to a holiday shift again. The Christmas movies were out of stock by 9, so I’ve had people screaming at me all day. Like I’m personally responsible for the fact that they waited till the last minute to try and rent the Grinch that Stole Christmas.”

“Mmm,” Eddie hums sympathetically. “Poor baby. What time are you coming over?”

“The pie needs to cool another 30 minutes, then I’m leaving.”

They’d argued about the pie for days. Eddie insisted that he had enough dishes planned to feed a small army, while Steve insisted that he just had to bring a pecan pie (which, coincidentally, is Wayne’s favorite).

“You know – you don’t have to work so hard to impress him. Wayne already likes you.”

“Shut up,” Steve says. “I’ll see you at 5:30.”

“See ya.”

They’re not quite to the point of exchanging I love you’s yet, even though it sits on the edge of his tongue every time they say goodbye.

Eddie hangs up the phone and turns to survey the chaos strewn across the kitchen. He’s got half an hour – 45 minutes with driving time. The sweet potato casserole has to be baked, and he still needs to finish two more dishes after that.

“Shit,” he mutters.

***

When Wayne ventures into the kitchen twenty minutes later to check on him, Eddie is frantically stirring sour cream and shredded cheese into the mashed potatoes.

“Christ almighty it’s hot in here. You’re sweatin’ like a hog.”

Eddie scowls and swipes at the hair sticking to his forehead. “Thanks Uncle Wayne.”

Unfortunately, his uncle’s not wrong. The kitchen is sweltering – not surprising, considering the stove and oven have been going all day – and Eddie’s shirt is soaked through. He desperately needs a shower, but he’s running way behind.

“Alright… what can I do to help?”

Eddie pauses long enough to fix his uncle with a skeptical look. “Are you forgetting the famous incident of the frozen turkey? Your cooking privileges have been permanently revoked.”

Wayne looks unimpressed. “Don’t you sass me. I can pull a goddamn casserole out of the oven.”

Eddie snickers and allows himself to be chased out of the kitchen. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t let that casserole burn!”

He takes the stairs up two at a time. It’s still a novelty, living in a house with a second floor – even after half a year. The water pressure is pretty awesome too, although he doesn’t take the time to enjoy it today. He rushes through a lukewarm shower, just enough to cool down and rinse the sweat off; throwing a clean shirt on when he gets out.

With hair still dripping, he thunders back down the stairs in time to see Wayne pull the casserole out, marshmallows browned to a perfect crust on top. His uncle watches in bemusement as Eddie covers the dish with aluminum foil and then hastens to dump frozen rolls onto a pan.

“What time is Steve supposed to get here?” Wayne asks.

Eddie doesn’t even dare look at the clock. “Any minute,” he says distractedly. He adjusts the oven temperature and shoves the pan in. He had a checklist, which is buried somewhere in the pile of used dishes and discarded packaging on the counter. He starts searching for it, shoving things aside in frustration, until he feels his uncle’s hands land heavy on his shoulders.

“Calm down, okay? Everything looks amazing. You’ve done a real good job Ed.”

The old man’s expression is unbearably soft when he turns around. Wayne looks at him like that all the time these days – ever since March, and that tense week in the hospital, when they weren’t sure if infection would finish the job the demobats had started.

It makes Eddie feel warm and awkward at the same time. He darts forward for a quick hug, pressing his face into the smoky flannel of his uncle’s shoulder, before stepping back and shoving the old man toward the door.

“Go on. Let me know when Steve gets here. And turn on the lights!”

***

Eddie loses track of time as he scrambles to finish – last minute tasks keep popping up every time he turns around. When he’s finally ready to call it done, he heads for the living room, expecting to find Steve and Wayne watching something on tv while they wait.

But it’s six o’clock, and there’s no sign of Steve. Wayne is standing against the big picture window, curtains shoved aside so he can look out.

“Hate to break it to ya Ed, but I’m not sure your boy is gonna make it. Snow’s really coming down out there.”

Eddie takes his uncle's place against the window, pressing his nose against the cold glass as he cups his hands to shield the glare. It's dark out, and the only thing illuminated by the porch light is a swirling wall of snowflakes. Judging by the snow already piled on the railing, it's collecting thick and fast.

"Shit," he mutters.

Concern immediately churns his stomach. If Steve left the house when he planned to, he should have arrived over half an hour ago.

Eddie goes to the phone on the end table by Wayne’s recliner, dialing the familiar number, hoping Steve decided to wait out the weather. The Christmas tree twinkles merrily in the corner; red, green, blue, and yellow lights reflecting off the silver tinsel while Eddie listens to the phone ring and ring - until the click of the answering machine picks up.

He hits the switch hook to end the call, re-dialing immediately. Ring, ring, ring and the click of the answering machine again.

He stays on the line long enough to hear the recorded voice of Steve’s father announce: “You’ve reached the Harrington residence. Leave a name, number, and brief message…” Eddie hangs up again with a frustrated growl.

Wayne watches with a worried frown. “You don’t think he would try to drive in this mess, do you? Not in that fancy car of his.”

Only someone who didn’t know Steve very well would ask that question. If Robin or Dustin were here, they’d already be suiting up for a search party.

Apparently, the expression on Eddie’s face is answer enough, because Wayne’s lips press into a thin line before he nods. “Right then. We’ll put the snow chains on the truck – as long as you go slow, you should be okay.”

They throw on coats and boots and a hat for Wayne, before trooping out into the whirling snow. Working in tandem, it only takes a few minutes to get the chains wrapped around the front tires of Wayne’s truck, latched and tensioned tight.

They agree that Wayne should stay behind in case Steve ends up calling after all, and then Eddie is off, pulling slowly down the drive.

The little house (part of a generous government settlement in exchange for their silence) is on the outskirts of town, surrounded by trees and cornfields – and no neighbors for at least ten miles. Which means the only light comes from the feeble beam of the truck’s headlights, struggling to penetrate the wall of snow. It’s like driving into a tunnel.

Eddie holds his foot tense above the gas pedal, giving it just enough juice to keep the old truck bumping along at a snail’s pace, listening to the chained tires grip and grind over the snow.

I never said ,‘I love you’, he thinks. I never said it. Steve could be dead or dying somewhere along the road, and the last thing Eddie ever said to him was, “See ya.”

It’s unbearable.

After a nerve-wracking 15 minutes, scanning and straining his eyes nearly to tears – Eddie finally spots a faint shape in the distance. Just the silhouette of a person, no car in sight.

It’s Steve. It’s gotta be.

He slams on the brakes – too hard. Even with the chains on, the old truck slides a few terrifying feet farther than intended. Heart pounding, Eddie throws it into park and wrenches the door open.

He hits the ground ready to run and nearly busts his ass as he sinks into snow over his ankles; staggering like a drunk toward the huddled figure of his boyfriend.

Eddie grips the other boy by the shoulders, eyes raking over him head to toe, searching for injuries. It’s hard to see – the headlights cast everything in sharp relief, full of shadow.

“Shit Steve… are you okay? I was so fucking worried, Jesus Christ.”

Steve pats his chest and laughs through the audible chattering of his teeth. “I’m f-fine Ed, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“What happened?”

“Deer ran out in front of me. T-tried to miss it and the Beemer spun off the road. Car’s fine, but it’s stuck in a ditch.”

Eddie huffs out a relieved laugh and squeezes his boyfriend tight. Just stuck in a ditch – thank god. They’re so lucky the accident wasn’t serious; and lucky that Eddie came looking before Steve froze to death trying to make the long, cold walk to the house.

He pulls back to gaze into those beloved brown eyes, brushing aside a swoop of hair stiff with ice.

“I love you,” Eddie says abruptly. His breath hangs like dragon-smoke between them. It’s not how he intended this moment to go, but he can’t keep it in any longer. “I was afraid to say it, but then… when I thought something might have happened to you, all I could I think was that I never told you how I felt.”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers. “Eddie, I love you too.”

He laughs, giddy with relief, and cradles Steve’s jaw as he leans into a kiss. The world falls away - there’s nothing but Steve’s slightly chapped lips, warming slowly against his own, and the soft whisper of the snowflakes.

It’s perfect - until Steve shifts awkwardly and winces in pain.

“What the hell Steve, I thought you said you weren’t hurt?”

Steve grins sheepishly and leans against Eddie, trying to take the weight off his left leg. “I said the car was fine. I twisted my knee trying to climb out of that damn ditch.”

“Goddamnit… is there anything else I should know?”

His boyfriend unzips his jacket, revealing a towel-wrapped disc tucked securely against his chest. “I saved the pie,” he says proudly.

“Jesus Christ.” Overwhelmed by affection, Eddie kisses Steve again; it’s either that or shake the mad bastard. “Come on… let’s get you and your stupid pie home before you both freeze.”

#lexswinterficchallenge #strangerthingsfestivefun #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington/eddie munson #my fic #this was originally supposed to be a lot longer and more involved #but I wrote and scrapped like four different versions #and ended up with this #snuck in some art to make up for it

[stevesbipanic]

Under the Tree

Finally my contribution for @thefreakandthehair spicy six winter challenge. This was a lot of fun, my prompt was “Um, I got you something.” / “You got me something?” Hope you enjoy!

The first Christmas after the defeat of Vecna was an important one. It was the first Christmas that they didn’t have to worry about seeing flickering lights or brandishing weapons. The kids could be kids, and the adults could be too.

Steve Harrington could count on one hand the number of good Christmas’ he could remember. He assumed that the Christmas’ before he was 5 were adequate enough, but, the year he turned 5 he remembers his mother baking gingerbread with him and his dad playing basketball with him out on the driveway Christmas morning. They never would again. When he was 19, he spent Christmas with the Buckley’s. It was a warm Christmas filled with love and laughter; one he’ll treasure forever. This year, age 20, Steve hopes to add another good Christmas to his collection.

Joyce insisted on hosting, and no one was going to tell her no. After all, the Hopper-Byers now lived in a beautiful house just on the edge of the woods, you could bike to Hopper’s old cabin which had now been turned into a sort of club house for the kids, Hellfire was regularly held there now that Eddie had graduated. Steve had spent all of November getting gifts for his family, not his parents, he hadn’t heard from them since they sold the house and moved to Washington after the earthquake. No, his real family, he spent weeks making sure everyone got the perfect gift. He had had to hide Robin’s gift at Dustin’s now that he shared an apartment with her and was quite the snoop, not that Steve minded, he liked how intertwined their lives were. He had thought of hiding it at Nancy’s new place, but she had become less tight-lipped about secrets since her and Robin had gotten together.

That was another new thing, Robin and Nancy, the two who fell together so perfectly after everything that happened. Steve was the least surprised, when they told him he’d claimed it made sense due to him having great taste in women, they knew he was joking. Steve knew because he could see how well the two of the complimented each other. Nancy was patient and happy to listen and let Robin work through a problem by rambling. Robin was supportive but tough when it came to both Nancy’s goals but also her health. They had both taken gap years to revaluate their goals and desires while also taking a well-deserved break. The future could wait another year for them to have time to heal hidden wounds.

Steve was glad there was no bad blood between them and Jonathan, they’d all repaired their relationships over the years, figuring out platonic and romantic loves and wants, Steve could call Jonathan his brother (he was suspicious that Joyce had filled out adoption papers somewhere) and let old demons lie. With Jonathan had come Argyle, someone Steve didn’t know how the party went so long without. Argyle was a steadying presence, reminding them that they’re not defined by what happened to them and telling deep truths, usually high but the fact still stood. Steve was glad the two of them had each other, he could see years of emotional weight be lifted off Jon’s shoulders whenever Argyle was around.

Even the kids had matured, and not just in the way that trauma matures someone. Steve could see them let go of childish desires like the first love romance between Mike and El that grew into more a relationship like Steve and Nancy, stronger as friends. Dustin still called Suzie every weekend but Steve knew they both had a good head on their shoulders, he liked to think any kid that came from them would probably solve all the world’s problems in a day. Lucas and Max had worked so much on their communication, understanding each other’s needs now more than ever.

Maybe it’s why Steve had spent so long making sure they all had the perfect gift. A small part of Steve that still held doubt, a grain of doubt so rooted inside of him from childhood that it may never leave. The part of him that worried about being forgotten and left behind, the part of him that drove him to always be useful. He’d gotten high with Eddie in the first week of December and poured his heart out to him about it, Eddie hadn’t said anything in reply, he hadn’t needed to, Steve could see in his eyes they shared the same fears.

Eddie’s gift had been the most important, for reasons Steve could only confront in the safety of his own apartment, huddled under blankets with Robin late at night. Reasons that simultaneously made him feel whole and completely exposed. In the end the gift had been a mixtape, a perfect blend of their music tastes woven together with Steve telling Eddie about how the songs make him feel, about life, about Eddie, ending with his final confession. Steve hopes he doesn’t hear it until he gets home.

The party is in full swing, it had snowed the night before leaving plenty of soft snow to play in, distracting the kids from asking about presents until after dinner. They had all gathered around the tree, slowly but surely passing out gifts. Hugs and thanks were shared amongst the group, Steve felt his heart fill with warmth with every piece of gratitude or handmade card sent his way. Eddie’s eyes had twinkled when he’d read the tape’s description as being “Eddie’s Mix”, a promise for later dancing across his features. Paper picked up and clothes changed, the kids had settled in front of the television with mattress’ pulled from every room. Joyce and Hopper had retired with promises of making breakfast in the morning. The remaining two couples had either joined the kids or disappeared for their own festive celebration, leaving only Eddie and Steve finishing the dishes in the kitchen.

“So, a mix tape, Stevie? Do I have to worry about an hour long “Last Christmas” brainwashing?”

Steve had laughed putting away the last plate, Eddie had come over to help wrap presents and Steve’s record had gotten caught on the same track, they both nearly lost their minds.

“I can’t promise no Wham! but I think Last Christmas has had enough of a turn this year, Eds.”

Eddie smiled and took the edge of Steve’s sweater in his hands, grabbing a blanket and leading Steve out onto the porch. The two boys sat in the cold, huddled together under the blanket, listening to the quiet of the woods. The quiet brought them so much peace, no calls for help, no creatures to go bump in the night, just them and their heartbeats.

“Um, I got you something.”

“You got me something?” 

Eddie chuckled, “Of course I did, sweetheart, just didn’t want to put it with the rest of the gifts, didn’t think it would fit.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at this, “What is it?”

Eddie looked nervous now, slowly he pulled off one of his rings, it was one of the simpler ones. Steve always thought it stood out against the skulls and horror of the others. A small black stone set in silver, vines slicing through the metal. Eddie took Steve’s hand and slid the ring onto his finger.

“You always play with this one when you’re upset about something, figured it’d be better if you had it even when I wasn’t around.”

Steve felt seen, Eddie had comforted him through a lot after March, offering words and touch and even his ring to make Steve feel better.

“Eddie. Thank you.”

“Of course, Stevie.”

“But wait, how couldn’t this fit under the tree?”

“Well, there’s a second part to it, if you want it.”

Steve had missed many things in his life, but he didn’t miss the question in Eddie’s eyes.

“I’d really like the rest of my gift, Eddie.”

Eddie leant in slowly, still giving Steve the opportunity to move away, to say no, to leave Eddie behind. Steve didn’t though, he was never going to leave Eddie behind, would never forget him. Their lips touched, cold from the night air, and it felt like the final puzzle slotting into place. Eventually, they pulled away, just enough to catch their breath, foreheads still touching.

“Yeah, you would’ve looked weird with a bow on your head under the tree.”

“Maybe next year I’ll do it just for you.”

Steve smiled, he couldn’t wait for next year, and every year after that he got to spend with Eddie.

#LexsWinterFicChallenge #StrangerThingsFestiveFun #spicy six #steddie #steve harrington #sorry ive been gone the festive season took me out #but im back #stuff is coming #eddie munson #fic #cross posted on ao3 #fluff #winter #christmas #minor ronance #minor jargyle

[ethereal27cereal]

Cocoa and Cream - Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader

summary: When a big snowstorm hits town, you and your neighbor Eddie find yourselves shoveling nearly 3 feet of snow off your shared driveway. And the only way to warm up is with a good cup of hot cocoa. Based on the prompt: “You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate? Are you a serial killer or something?” from the lovely @thefreakandthehair​ Spicy Six Holiday Fic Challenge.

warnings: not really any, this is just fluff with some pining and Eddie thinking he is a creep.

genre: neighbors to lovers, fluff

word count: 4K

author’s note: Hiya friends, I hope you all like this one, it was a super cute prompt and I loved writing it. Thank you to @kissmecaiti​ for all of your amazing support and for your adorable last line suggestion. Any comments and feedback are always so appreciated 💕 page divider from @firefly-graphics​

Peeking out of the frosted window, you breathe a sigh to see the snow is finally starting to taper off, if only for a brief moment. Long enough to get out and shovel. Again. You have cleared the front porch and walkway twice, wanting to stay on top of the relentless piles of snow. If you don’t start to make a dent in shoveling away the snow on the driveway, it is going to be at least a week before you’re able to get your car out safely. Living alone has its perks, but being the one who has to shovel in what is shaping up to be the biggest snowstorm of the year is definitely not one of them.

You peer out of the curtains again, debating if you are just going to clear the steadily creeping drifts from the front porch or truly try to tackle the driveway. It is a shared driveway, connecting your single car garage and condo to the mirrored copy of your mysteriously handsome neighbor’s condo and garage. He moved in six months ago and introduced himself as Eddie, immediately captivating you with his soft curls and crooked grin, but you’d not gotten much more out of him since then. He’d given a little wave when you both managed to pull into the drive at the same time, a mumbled apology when returning a package of yours that had accidentally been delivered to him, and baffled ‘thank you’ when you showed up on his doorstep with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies to show your thanks. Each time he’d always been friendly, albeit a bit shy.

Despite the shyness, Eddie has really been the ideal neighbor. Devastatingly good looking, well that’s not really an important part of the good neighbor criteria, but it certainly helps. He doesn’t have raucous parties every weekend and doesn’t block the driveway all the time like the previous occupant had. The only thing you can possibly find fault with is the late night guitar practice, but that somehow only adds to his intrigue rather than truly being an annoyance.

Once during the sweltering heat of the summer, you'd summoned up the nerve to ask him about his guitar playing, catching him unaware as he absently strummed his acoustic on his front porch. Nerves bubbled in your belly when his smoldering brown eyes flickered over you warily, staring at each other for a moment too long in the glaring sunshine. Bitten chapped lips offered a swift apology for keeping you up late with his playing, and without so much as another glance, he had disappeared into the darkness of his condo, muttering something about the damn heat before you had a chance to stop him.

All the brief exchanges only leave you wanting to know more about him, maybe spend some time with him and perhaps it could lead to something more than just friendly neighbors. But that also might just be wishful thinking and too many romance novels about meet cutes and falling in love with the boy next door. Besides, you’re pretty certain he does not share the same sentiment, seeing as he is barely able to speak to you for more than a minute without finding an excuse to flee. Maybe you just aren’t his type, thick and curvy isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, or maybe he’s just a recluse, but either way, it is boiling down to the facts that his momentary neighborly niceties will most likely not be extending to shoveling nearly three feet of snow off your side of the driveway.

Running out of time with the snow steadily starting to pick back up again, you abandon your fleeting fantasies, deciding it’s now or never and begin to bundle up in your snow clothes. Wrapped up so tightly that only your eyes peek out, you brace yourself against the chill of the wind and step out onto the front porch, tendrils of frost flicking into your lungs and stealing your breath away. The world sounds muffled and softened under its thick blanket of white, the snow falling to the ground lazily with an inaudible sigh, faint crunching under your foot as you trudge out into the winter wonderland.

Armed with your shovel, you clear a path on the porch and walkway within minutes and move on to the larger task at hand. As you round the corner to the front of the house, you spot him, a flickering figure of darkness almost engulfed by stark white. He’s dressed entirely too sparingly for the chill in the air, what looks like alternating layers of denim and leather jackets covering his top half and a pair of very wet looking black jeans clinging to his sturdy thighs. A black beanie pushes down his wild curls, tendrils clinging to his pink cheeks as he looks up from his work when he hears you slowly approaching. After a gloved wave and a smile to your neighbor, Eddie, you start on clearing the heaps of snow that surround your garage door.

Eddie had hoped he would finish shoveling the whole driveway before you came out, but he’s been at it for what feels like hours and is only just now starting to see a dent. The cold is starting to set into his knees, his toes already numb despite the layers of wool socks he had put on before shoving his feet into the thrifted snow boots that are one size too large. His eyes automatically drift over to stare at you, smiling to see you look a whole lot warmer than he feels. You’re bundled up in a puffy purple jacket, shining eyes just barely visible between your thick knit scarf and black beanie that is almost identical to his except for the pom pom bouncing on top. Eddie’s chest tightens, and though he’d like to blame it on the cold, he’s more than certain it’s because he can’t breathe when you’re around.

He knows shoveling all the snow away isn’t the grandest of gestures, but he hopes in a least a little way it does something to make you happy. Just enough of a kindness so he can see your smile before getting too nervous and retreating to the safety of his home before he’s once again plagued by never ending thoughts of you. He’s tried his hardest to be polite and neighborly, fearing if he is anything more it would be verging on creepy, and he’s not looking to start up the same rumors or stereotypes that had been his ceaseless burden to carry in Hawkins.

New town, fresh start where no one knew the name Eddie Munson or cared about his past. He told himself he would be best off if he simply kept to himself, easier not to scare off people when there isn’t anyone close enough to scare off. And at first it was easy. He went to work and came home, collapsing on the couch in front of the TV, chugging a few beers before passing out. Then he’d repeat it all over again, day after day. Until you.

With a persistent smile and an intoxicatingly sweet sundress, you had cornered him by the mailboxes about a month after he moved in. You’d repeated his name when he introduced himself, and the sound of his own stupid name lilting off your tongue should not have made him weak in the knees, but it did. And it still does. Everyday since, he finds himself hoping for more and more little moments with you, feeling butterflies from even the briefest of glances or a fleeting smile you offer his way. He’s ashamed at how many summer nights he lingered out on the front porch to see if you would wander up after your evening walk and talk to him about his guitar playing again, or about anything really. He endlessly agonizes over any reasonable excuse to talk to you before always deciding against it, not wanting to come off as too pushy or forward.

Eddie is sure that if you knew any of this you would cringe. Who wants to live next door to the freak?, he reminds himself over and over while trying not to cling to the crumbs of your neighborly kindnesses. But the truth is, he’s got it bad. Eddie has a crush on you, the girl next door, and he’d shovel six feet of snow if it meant that you didn’t have to.

Snow begins to blur his vision as the thoughts fade and he quickly realizes the blizzard is coming on in full force again. The path he’s cleared in the snow is rapidly being covered again, though not nearly as deep as it was to start, and he groans at the thought of having more snow to shovel before this storm is finished. Defeated, he looks from where he is standing at the end of the driveway to where you’re struggling against the mountainous drifts, looking even more thoroughly defeated than he feels.. You fling a pile of snow off the end of your shovel, only to have the wind whip most of it back into your face. The wind rages again, nearly taking Eddie off his feet and he decides the window of clear shoveling weather has abruptly come to an end.

“You should get back inside, it’s getting pretty bad. I will finish shoveling when the storm dies down again,” Eddie shouts over to you, his voice straining to project into the chill air.

Your pom pom hat bobbles as you turn your head to look at him. You can make out the faint movement of his lips, but the wind swallows all sounds.

“What?” you holler back, setting your shovel down and bracing against another gust. He repeats himself, but you still can’t catch a single word. Frustrated by the distance and your inability to hear, you begin to trudge through the knee deep snow to get to him. Puffy snow pants and unsteady footing do you no favors, and after trekking only a few steps closer, you find yourself face down in a heap of snow. Freezing cold and full of embarrassment.

In a moment of heroic panic, Eddie leaps over snow drifts and crouches by your side, concern streaked across his frigid features. Frosted wetness seeps into the thin denim of his jeans and chills him to the bone, but his only thoughts are on you and if you are alright.

“Shit are you okay?” he worries and pulls you out of the drift by your arms. Your face is dusted with snow, delicate snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes as you flutter them open to look at him. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat, unable to blame it on the frigid air as you cling to his arms and try to steady yourself to a standing position. Nothing seems to be injured, but Eddie scans you up and down just to be sure.

“Ugh, yeah. I mean, my pride is not, but I’m not hurt or anything. Just cold,” you reply with a shiver, leaning into him to savor the feeling of him supporting your weight for just a moment longer and expecting him to let go. But he doesn’t. His arm wraps around your waist, sheltering you against the wind as he guides you towards your front door.  

“Let’s get you inside. This wind is brutal, and you look absolutely freezing.” His breath blows warm against your cheek when he whispers directly into your ear, not letting the storm consume his words again.

Once safely inside, Eddie releases his hold on you suddenly, cold wind sucking the air from your lungs and the strain of shoveling leaving you weaker in the knees than expected and you unceremoniously plop down on the floor.

“Woah! Are you sure you’re okay there, Y/N?” Eddie drops to his knees next to you, his ungloved hand wavering in a dangerous debate of whether or not to touch you again. You stare at him blankly, only able to dwell on how this is the first time you think he’s ever said your name. It sounds sweet, like sticky warm honey dripping from his lips and warming you from the inside out despite the nagging chill that has taken up residence under your skin.

“Y/N?” Eddie repeats again, even more dulcet in its refrain, but the perplexed look of concern on his face forces your reply.

“Yes, sorry, I’m fine. Just more exhausted than I thought I was,” you respond, aiming to give a reassuring smile that you’re pretty sure comes out as a grimace. In an effort to get more comfortable and regulate your body temperature, you begin shedding layers, chucking off your hat and gloves then unzipping your jacket and tossing it beside you. Letting out a huff you get to your feet, Eddie’s hand offering gentle support at your elbow so you don’t slip and fall on the wet floor.

Without much thought for your company, you kick off your snow boots and begin to wiggle out of your snow pants. It’s an action that leaves Eddie flustered and turning away with pink cheeks and his heart beating wildly, trying not to stare at the swell of your thighs and hips when you’re fully revealed in a pair of skin hugging long johns and a turtleneck that is leaving far too little up to his imagination.

“I, uhh, well, if you’re alright I should probably go,” Eddie coughs and looks down at his feet.

“No, no, please stay. I can make some hot chocolate. As a thank you. For shoveling and for rescuing me from the snow,” you laugh, a contagiously joyful sound and Eddie cannot say no.

— -

After offering Eddie an old pair of sweatpants to change into since his jeans are soaked, he settles in at the tiny kitchen table, looking stiff and uncomfortably shy while you busy yourself at the stove with heating the chocolate and sugar mixture. You try to fill the silence with small talk, asking about his job at the local auto shop and sharing little things here and there about your interests. He opens up slowly, offering up some tidbits of information, and becoming increasingly animated when he talks about his love of metal music and reading fantasy novels. He confesses that he is relatively new in town, so he doesn’t really do much in his free time besides read and play guitar.

Eddie clams up when you ask about where he moved here from, a tight lipped response telling you it’s best to drop it and move on to something else, but he circles back.

“Sorry, I’m being such a dick. You’re just trying to be nice and ask questions, and I’m being an asshole. I’m sorry,” Eddie apologizes, tugging a strand of frizzy curls in front of his lips as he speaks.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re saying more than one or two words to me. I feel like I’ve been the annoying neighbor getting in your business all the time,” you reply with an unsure smile. He regards you softly for a moment, eyebrows knitting together in thought as he weighs his words.

“You’ve not been annoying at all. I’m just not used to the friendly neighbor kind of thing, I guess. I’m just kind of used to people pretending I don’t exist. But it’s nice. You’re nice. I mean, yeah,” Eddie rambles, ending with a huff and a wince at his own pitiful words. You don’t reply, but offer a thoughtful hmm as you carefully pour the milk into the pan of boiling chocolate and begin to stir.

“Well I think you’re nice too. Hot chocolate is almost ready. I can also whip up some whipped cream for the top if you’d like,” you suggest, trying not to bubble over at the simplest of compliments that he thinks you’re nice.  

“You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I’m good with just marshmallows,” Eddie waves his hand with his words, thinking nothing of his request.

“Oh, um, sorry, I don’t have any marshmallows. I don’t ever put them in my hot chocolate,” you apologize and can tell immediately that your response has absolutely dumbfounded Eddie, his face contorting with confusion as he stares blankly at you.  

“What? You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”

“Well, I don’t really like them,” you shrug absently, turning to stir the warming hot chocolate and then back to face him again.

“Hold on a minute, back up. You don’t like marshmallows and you don’t put them in your hot chocolate…are you a serial killer or something?” Eddie jests with a laugh, and you shrug again. “Who doesn’t like marshmallows? They are delicious. And then you pop them on some hot chocolate and you have the best winter time drink there is.” With each word, Eddie is becoming more animated, sitting up in his chair and speaking with his hands. A smile creeping across his face as he tries to prove this ever so important point to you.

“They’re just too sweet. And they ruin perfectly good hot chocolate by forming that weird gelatinous goop layer on top when they don’t melt all the way. Whipped cream is the only appropriate topping for hot chocolate,” you retort with a smirk. You swing open the fridge and grab out the carton of heavy whipping cream, wiggling it in his direction before going on. “And homemade whipped cream is by far the superior hot chocolate topping compared to any Kraft Jet-Puffed bullshit.”

“I did not know that I was living right next door to such a staunch marshmallow hater. I can’t believe I was going to shovel your whole side of the driveway. I’m not even sure if I can accept this hot chocolate as a token of your thanks anymore,” he shakes his head with another hearty laugh and acts as if he’s going to stand up to leave before locking eyes with you and offering a devilish grin.

“Hey now, if this isn’t the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had, then I will shovel both sides of the driveway,” you promise with an earnest look that makes his heart swell.

“That seems like an unfair deal to make seeing as there is no possible way you can win without marshmallows,” Eddie remarks playfully.

“Fine, if tasting my extra special cream isn’t enough for you, then I will just have to find some other way to thank you properly.” You wink and giggle, delighting in the look of shock on his boyish features before plugging in the hand mixer and settling the metal beaters into the bowl of heavy cream, sugar, and vanilla.

Eddie’s cheeks flush red, fading softly to rosy pink as he clears his throat, inaudible over the hum of the mixer. He isn’t sure if you intended or meant anything by the salacious sounding offer, but he’d be lying if thoughts of you in that way hadn’t crossed his mind at least once or twice, or more, over the last six months. And the thought that you might want him in a similar way sends his brain reeling. His eyes are fixed to the soft sway and wiggle of your ample hips as you continue mixing, staring far longer than just a friendly neighbor should. Eddie is certain he is dangerously close to losing any last ounce of cool he has when you turn off the mixer and dip your finger into the cream, your plump lips closing around the digit and sucking it clean with a wet popping sound.

He lets out a ragged breath and chooses to focus on the frayed holes forming in the faded fabric of the borrowed sweatpants, poking his finger against his thigh to concentrate on something other than you. Eddie wills himself to calm the fuck down, she’s just being kind and neighborly. Just because she has a perfect ass and the most kissable lips you’ve ever seen, doesn’t mean you are getting any. Don’t be creepy. Eddie chides to himself, hoping that more deep breaths will steady his fluttering heart and stifle the throbbing feeling in the pit of his stomach that is threatening to spread south.

He can't, however, tune out the sweetly satisfied hum you make after adding another dash of vanilla and tasting the whipped cream again, the sound reverberating in his ears like a song he never wants to forget.  

“Perfect!” You declare proudly, releasing your finger from your lips and turning to smile at Eddie. “Do you like a lot or a little whipped cream?”

“Ermm, I will let you decide,” he responds quietly, unable to meet your eyes as if you might be able to see all the thoughts racing through his head.

“A lot it is then,” you plop a generous dollop of cream on top of the steaming chocolatey drink and bring it over to him with a smile. He thanks you shyly and takes a timid first sip, trying to avoid getting the whipped cream up his nose.

“Okay, I’m just going to say that you are objectively wrong about marshmallows, but holy shit, this is the best hot chocolate I have ever had,” Eddie admits, finally meeting your eyes as you sit down at the small table and pull your chair close to his, knees bumping his under the table.

“And the whipped cream?”

“It’s delicious. I will agree that homemade whipped cream is a top tier hot chocolate topping, and yours is really fucking good,” his voice drops lower as he emphasizes each word, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

“Better than marshmallows?” you tease and take a sip of your own hot chocolate, letting the hot drink warm your belly.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles and takes another drink. He is less careful this time and pulls the mug away from his face to reveal his lips and nose covered in whipped cream. He looks at you playfully, knowing full well that he looks like a whipped cream covered fool, but he can’t be bothered to care at the moment.

“You’ve got a little…,” you giggle and tap your nose at him. Eddie’s chocolate colored eyes are filled with a devious mirth as he dips his finger into his whipped cream and boops a dollop of it onto your nose with a laugh.

“Now we match.”

“Not quite.” You smile and stare at his soft creamy lips, stomach doing flips as you lean forward, placing a tentative hand on his shaking knee. Your lips press into his in fluttering delicate whipped creamed kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs and all the thoughts from your head. He freezes for a moment, heart beating faster as your gentle kiss slowly warms him head to toe until he feels like he’s on fire. Your lips are sweet and soft against his, cocoa and cream lingering on his tongue as he loses himself deeper in the kiss. You pull away slowly, peppering whispered kisses against his lips and finally on his nose to get up the last of the whipped cream.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, dripping caramel and full of reverent wonder before he kisses away the remnants of whipped cream from your face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Eddie admits with a nervous laugh, his hands weaving together with yours as you scoot your chair closer to his.

“I have too. And I told you I would find a way to fully thank you if my whipped cream didn’t fully live up to your insane marshmallow expectations.” A giggle ripples from your chest as the air finally returns to your lungs, not realizing you’d been holding your breath until now. Eddie laughs along with you, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“So, uh, if that’s the thank you had in mind for just for shoveling the driveway, what do I get if I mow the whole lawn?” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully, testing his luck because surely this must all be some frost bitten fantasy he has conjured up in his head. But, sure enough, you squeeze his hand and grin back at him, a teasing fire in your eyes that even the heaviest of blizzards can’t put out.

“Guess you’ll have to stay till spring and find out.”

Tags of some people who might be interested: @boomhauer @wtf-lindsay @a-time-for-wolvess @b-irock @beep-beep-sherlock @wroteclassicaly @littledemondani @chickpeadumpsterfire @aftermidnightwriting @seidenbros

#lexswinterficchallenge #eddie munson #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x plus size reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fic #joseph quinn #joe quinn

[thefreakandthehair]

Steve’s shivering. Or maybe he’s trembling, he truthfully isn’t entirely sure himself, but the bag in his hands as they sit on the hood of Eddie’s van for a better view is rustling from the movement. He tries not to consider Eddie reacting poorly, thinking that he’s trying to take this memory he’d shared with him weeks ago and make it their own because he’s not. He wants Eddie to have something tangible of a memory he otherwise can’t hold, that’s all. 

He’s also in love with Eddie, but that’s a separate thought. 

Eddie may have chewed an actual hole on the inside of his lip at this point, watching another meteor blaze between stars, and he thinks he may erupt at any moment. His own wrapped gift box is placed carefully on his lap so his fingers don’t tear the paper— Eddie’s heart is wrapped in little snowflakes and reindeer, sitting on his lap, about to be handed to a boy with the power to crush it and he’s scared. 

“So,” Steve breaks the silence first. Of course he does. “Who goes first? Rock, paper, scissors for it?” Steve turns one of his brightest smiles on Eddie and there’s not a star or meteor or comet in the Milky Way that could fucking compare. 

They go best two out of three and Steve wins. “Ex-jock luck, that’s all it is,” Eddie teases and bumps his shoulder into Steve’s who decidedly does not break contact for as long as socially acceptable. Eddie watches Steve slowly unwrap the gift, pulling the tape away rather than ripping into it. There’s something symbolic there, he thinks. 

[read the rest on AO3!]

tagging some people who've listened to me talk about this for the last few days! I hope you've all had as much fun writing and reading everyone's works for the fic challenge as I have, and I genuinely adore every single person I've met through this.

@bayouteche @stevieclaus @tuvens @ruthofrhythm @toburnup @sparklyslug @fruityfour @fruityfourgalore @flashyysins @hotcocoaharrington @kkpwnall @sam-ried @strawberryspence @undreamingscatworld @seidenbros @legitcookie @nailbatbabygirl @henrystars @sharpbutsoft @nailbatandrobin @harringtonisms @corrodedcoughin @songbvrd @hexmionegranger @solosnail @flowercrowngods @kirstindunst @withacapitalp @newton-pulsifer @stevesbipanic @prettyboyandthemetalhead @hammity-hammer @evergreennwilloww @sidekick-hero @sparkle-fiend @drwatsonsjournal @stargyles

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #stranger things #lexswinterficchallenge #myfic

[hotluncheddie]

Seasons change, but people don't.

or three times steve asks eddie to stay, plus one time he finally does.

(my entry for @thefreakandthehair 's winter fic challenge! my prompt was "lets just stay here, watch the snow a little longer." and it turned into a lot of Eddie Munson being silly and spans all the seasons. 6.2k)

Ao3

✧*:･ﾟ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Spring 1985 

Eddie feels like his skin is too small. His scalp is prickling and he’s had the worst fucking day, okay? His stupid math and science teachers are in kahoots, he knows it. He’s shit in both their classes and they hate him and have it out for him and there's nothing he can do now. His grades are too low, he cant make it up and they don’t like him so there's no way out. Not charming anyone, no sob story that could save his sorry ass now. He’s not graduating. Again. He has to repeat senior year. Again. 

And the added layer to his shit cake of a day? King Steve wants to buy from him. Today, right now. Oh ho ho is he gonna get overcharged sooo bad. Seeing as eddie has to postpone his wallowing to wait at his stupid little bench in the stupid woods behind the stupid school.  

The spring air is nice at least, a little breeze blowing through the trees and the bench is warm from the sun. He's only been waiting for about 5 minutes before the telltale rustles and snaps of someone coming towards his spot are heard. 

Steve the hair Harrington is here. With his long stupid legs and his stupid jacket and eddie is not! In the mood! 

‘Hey man’ Steve slumps down onto the bench across from Eddie with a sigh and, huh. He looks really fucking tired. Like, if Eddie were his friend he would be seriously concerned. 

Steve is not Eddie's friend.

‘Hey yourself. 30 bucks. Cool?’ Eddie gets the baggie out of his little black lunchbox and holds it out. Steve just kind of looks at it. ‘What?’ Eddie snaps. He doesn’t have time for this.

Steve flinches at his tone and looks at Eddie with his big puppy eyes (yes! Eddie knows Steve Harrington is a pretty boy jock and yes! Eddie has had his little gay boy fantasies about Steve Harrington and no! Eddie is not proud of it!) and ohhh my god Eddie does not have time for this!! 

‘Sorry sorry, yeah man. Here.’ Steve takes out the cash and hands it over, but still doesn’t take the bag. He shuffles around, sticking his hands in his ugly preppy jacket ‘You. You wouldn’t roll for me would you?.. I’ll pay extra.’

Eddie scoffs, god what a day! Now this! ‘Baby never had to roll for himself before? Oh! to be royalty. I don’t have time Harrington, go get one of your lackeys to do it.’ He stands and Eddie knows his voice is icy, that a deal in the woods doesn’t require so much bite but he can’t help it. He needs his shitty fucking day to be over.

Steve's cheeks redden and he picks at the table. Eddie was expecting a rise, that classic king Steve bite back. But he just looks kinda like he’s going to throw up? ‘I can roll. I. I could roll. My um, my hands shake. My hands shake so I can't roll anymore.’ And he looks sad, the puppy dog eyes just timesed themselves by like, 10. 

Eddie melts. He knows his heart is too soft and squishy, his dad always loved to tell him so. 

‘Hand it over Harrington. And change your face, you’re breaking my heart man.’ Eddie rolls his eyes and huffs and makes a big show of sitting back on the bench, like rolling a couple silly little blunts for silly little Steve Harrington isn’t literally going to take him 5 minutes. 

‘Sorry, sorry. Um thanks. Thank you man, really.’ Ugh, he still looks sad and now he looks guilty too! Fuck! 

‘You’re fine man, seriously. Okay? I’ve just had a shitty day, rolling your stupid blunts for you isn’t going to make it worse, promise.’ Eddie flashes his teeth, gets out his spare papers and starts rolling. The familiar movements helping him relax a little. 

‘Okay well, thanks still. Uh and sorry, sorry your day was shit dude.’ Eddie side eyes Steve and watches him scrub a hand over his face. He really looks like shit, how did Eddie only just notice?

‘It's whatever. I’m simply forsaken to haunt the hallowed Hawkins High hallways for another year. A travesty for everyone involved honestly.’ and Steve just squints at him for a second, before breathing out a ‘shit, man’ which makes Eddie bark out a laugh. Maybe this new king Steve is more entertaining than the last one. 

‘You wanna um, like, share? Now?’ And isn’t that a question, smoke up with the hair? Oh if Eddie of yesteryear could see him now.

‘Thanks for the offer your majesty but I have a prior engagement’ Eddie stands again and ignores that Steve looks a little disappointed… Weird fucking day. ‘Enjoy though. hope it helps you sleep dude, you look like you need it.’ Eddie packs up his things, he feels a stress headache starting and he really does just want to go home, play his guitar maybe. Build up the courage to talk to Wayne. 

‘Sure, of course. Yeah, yeah. Thanks.’ Steve grimaces, but the corners of his lips rise a little, in a self deprecating way. It looks real, genuine. It suits him, Eddie thinks, being genuine. 

‘No really, you kinda look like shit dude.’ Eddie can't help it, if he’s given a little he’ll take  a lot. Especially if it’s from pretty boys who don’t look like they’re about to beat the shit out of him. 

‘Get the fuck outa here Munson’ Steve rolls his eyes and is smiling like he's trying not to. Eddie’s lizard brain wants to eat him. Eddie’s Eddie brain still wants to go home, but the pit in his stomach feels a little shallower. He starts to walk backwards out of the clearing.

‘Hey, Eddie?’ Steve is looking at the two neat spliffs in his palm. Eddie slows his steps as Steve glances up at him. ‘Just. Uh. There's a lot worse things out there than repeating senior year a couple times, okay dude? A lot worse.’ And there's a fire behind Steve's eyes that Eddie didn’t know was possible. Intense, brave, harrowed.  

Eddie is frozen for a second, held by this person in front of him. Someone he thought he knew, because Eddie knows how to read people and Steve Harrington was always so simple. But this Steve Harrington? This is new. Eddie's stomach twists. He needs to go home. 

He bows deeply, flourishing his hand and spins on his heel… He might just keep an eye out for Steve Harrington from now on. 

Summer 1985 

This was definitely not what Eddie had in mind when he said he would keep an eye out for Steve Harrington. 

He’s ready to head home for the night, after selling from the back porch of cheerleader Stacy Hofferman’s big ass house. The party was to celebrate the coming school year or something equally asinine. But his pockets are fat with rich kid cash and bummed cigarettes he didn’t need, so theres a fucking spring in his step okay? Sue him.

Steve Harrington is splayed on the front lawn, like a starfish and is humming some, carnival song? Wasted. Maybe a little crossfaded, but he didn’t buy anything from Eddie this time so he hopes the near empty vodka bottle is the only thing coursing through those veins right now. He doesn’t need to add Steve Harrington to his conscience tonight. But Eddie is a curious guy, so he saunters over. 

Oh god. Oh no. Steve’s in shorts. Cut off jean shorts. Plus his hair still looks good, even all sprawled out on the grass. Fuck. Eddie hates him. He's still grappling with the memory of seeing Steve in that little sailor outfit at the mall. Now this! 

‘You gonna sing me a song Harrington?’ Eddie’s sneakers stop either side of Steve's head and he leans over a little. Watches as Steve's eyes try to focus, squint a little before recognition brings a smile to Steve's face, mischief to his eyes. Huh, okay that's new. Not bad, but definitely new.  

‘Daisy bell doesn’t have words Eddie’ Steve fucking giggles at him and okay, yep, yep. Wasted.

‘You got a ride home harrington? Might want to cut the party here, yeah?’ Eddie is a weak weak man and something about his first name coming out of Steve Harrington's mouth lights a little fire in his belly. Ugh. Disgusting. 

Steve's face falls a little and his eyes go unfocused again. ‘Nah, can’t be there right now man. M’ good here.’

‘Outside on the grass? You not gonna try getting lucky tonight king Steve?’ Something about Steve being out here alone doesn’t sit right with Eddie. Sure Steve isn’t as surrounded with starry eyed guys and gals after graduating, and maybe a little before then too. But surely he came here with someone who would be pulling him up and away at the end of the night, keeping some sort of an eye out for him. Not that that person would ever be Eddie, but still. It’s, you know, the principle of the thing.

Steve sucks in a breath that puffs his cheeks out, eyes going comically wide before letting the breath out, slow. ‘Nahhhhh dude, haven’t been lucky for a long time.’ and his eyes go unfocused, glassy in the streetlights. ‘Doesn’t feel the same now anyway, not fun like it used to be.’ Suddenly he looks much older, older than Eddie, older than any 19 year old should. Lost in thoughts that draw great shadows onto the planes of his face.   

His eyes snap back up to Eddie, the fog clearing a little. ‘Think the scoops ahoy uniform killed my chances off already anyway. Lots of good things to come out of the mall being destroyed, I don’t have to scoop ice cream in shorts for one.’  He laughs, a little hysterical, and Eddie kind of feels like he's intruding, like there's a lot more to what Steve is saying right now and Eddie is not privy to any of it. 

Eddie smiles though and shoves his hands in his pockets, pulling out his pack and a lighter, fiddling with them. Steve takes another long pull from the bottle, god that shit smells like paint remover. Eddie can almost see the hangover brewing under Steve's honey skin.

Steve’s looking at him again. Upside down, on some girls' front lawn. And then he sucker punches eddie, out of fucking nowhere. ‘Stay and stargaze with me? Whadayasay Munson?’ his smile is dopey and drunk, he's so drunk. Drunk Steve Harrington just asked him to stargaze. Eddie thinks maybe the rumours about Hawkins being cursed actually might be true. But it's Eddie who’s cursed. Cursed to be confused by pretty jocks who turn out nothing like he ever expected. 

‘Fraid not sailor, for I am Cinderella and the clock just struck midnight.’ Eddie amps up the theatrics, he's nervous. Steve Harrington can’t know how on the back foot he feels right now. Confusing, charming fucker. ‘I can also feel the old lady next door itching to call the pigs and I am not about to deal with their hairy eyeballs tonight. No sir, the summer air is too sweet for that.’ Eddie steps away from Steve, angling his back towards the street. He feels goosebumps rising, even in the heat. He wants to run.

‘You gonna be okay tho?’ Eddie can’t help it. Stupid. Steve Harrington turning his heart gooey for a second time. 

Steve sits up on his elbows and looks at Eddie, eyes suddenly frighteningly clear. ‘You’re a sweet guy Munson. Anyone ever tell you that?’ Eddie shakes his head. ‘My secret then. Eddie Muson, total sweetheart.’ he says it into the breeze and Eddie is set alight at the idea of being seen. Being more than the freak who has the goods so we tolerate him. 

‘Don’t go spreading my secrets now Harrington.’ Going for light but the tightness in his throat won’t let him, it comes out raspy. Eddis backs away to his van, parked at the end of the lawn. Steve just huffs a laugh and flops back down.

From the driver's seat Eddie takes his time lighting his cigarette and changing the tape. But his eyes are on Steve, as he gets up on shaky legs, swinging the nearly empty vodka bottle with him. He stumbles back into the huddle of bodies by the front door. Eddie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Steve Harrinton, full of surprises. Eddie drives home and half hopes to never see him again. Eddie doesn’t much care for surprises.  

Autumn 1986

Eddie shouldn’t be surprised, not now. Not by the Steve Harrington he went to hell with. Who dragged him back into the light. The boy with the nail bat who never seemed to stop swinging, not till Vecna was gone and the gates were locked up tight. Who’s hand still flexes like he misses the weight of the splintered wood, like he wants it back so he can protect the people he loves. Which by some divine intervention seems to include Eddie Munson of all people. 

Eddie shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. Steve Harrington is the single most confusing person Eddie has ever met. He’s obsessed with him. He’s on his way to falling for him. Head over fucking heels fucked for Steve straight boy Harrignton. Divine intervention indeed. 

Steve is waiting for him now, leaning on the hood of the beamer, picking him up after physical therapy, which is still kinda kicking his ass. What with the new colder temperatures making his bones ache and his dick nurse insisting that; no he couldn’t suck himself off before so he definitely won't be able to after, even with all the stretching he’s having to do. What fresh hell am I right? 

Steve is waiting for him, with his stupid long legs and his ugly jacket and the disgustingly fond smile he tortures eddie with because he’s already wrapped in his winter coat. Hood up against the wind because the last, last! Thing Eddie wants these days is to be cold and apparently that amuses Steve enough to look at Eddie like hes a fucking kitten or something. Horrid! 

‘Still a no?’ Eddie is scowling, he knows he is. He shakes his head and Steve's smile just grows a little wider. Fucker. 

‘Come on.’ Steve flicks his zipper and Eddie gnashes his teeth at him. He’s not even in that bad a mood. Steve looking after him sometimes just kind of makes him feel all fizzy, electric. 

It was worse before. Right after. When Steve was coming to visit him in hospital, almost more than Wayne, bringing Eddie things to read and generally being a ray of fucking sunshine compared to the staff and Eddie himself. He would sit with Eddie and Eddie wouldn’t want to talk because everything hurt. He would sit with Eddie and complain about the kids being annoying, bitch about his parents being the worst and bemoan the fact that he needed to find a new job ASAP and really didn’t want to get another shitty retail one. Wanted to find something he was really good at, maybe help people, look out for them the way he did Dustin and Robin, be something that was all him. 

And Eddie? He ate up every bitchy, snarky, earnest moment of it. Got to know Steve Harrington that was equally everything and nothing like who he had met before. But the real fucking cherry on top? Eddie talked too, just as much once he started healing. Talked to Steve with and about Wayne, his shitty Dad, how much he loves metal and Dungeons and Dragons, how all he thinks he’s ever really wants to do is tell stories that make people feel a little less alone. 

They talked and Eddie went and ruined it by letting his heart run away with itself. Fucking swan diving right off the ledge named ‘totally normal none gay feelings about Steve Harrington’ and into the pool of regret that is ‘I want to kiss him, I want to kiss him. Please God let me kiss him, it’s me again Eddie Munson.’ Pathetic. 

So sometimes, when Steve is being just lovely, picking Eddie up. Eddie’s blood boils in his veins and his scarred skin buzzes with the tension of not being able to hold Steve’s hand across the gear stick like he so desperately wants to. 

Eddie doesn't even have the energy to comment on Steve playing The Cure, making fun of him for letting Jonathan rub off on him too much lately (the four (+Argyle) of them hanging out regularly to smoke up). Instead, he internally makes fun of himself for feeling actually personally attacked by how relatable and familiar the whiny, lovesick lyrics sound. The sky opening up into a downpour just adding to the mood, pathetic fallacy up the wazoo today, apparently. 

But Steve is talking to him so of course Eddie listens, because it's Steve and Eddie is what? Pathetic. That's right. 

‘And then Dustin went on this whole spiel about how I should really be thanking him for everything he does. All the advice he gives me, that I did not, actually, fucking ask for. Can you believe the gaul of that kid Ed’s?’ and Eddie laughs at Steve because actually yes, yes he fucking can. 

‘Maybe we should go full revolt and tell Mrs. Henderson about it, really take him down a peg. She’s basically adopted you, she'd take your side for sure Stevie.’ Steve nods at the idea but he’s still scowling because getting wound up seems to be his go to reaction for most things, being vaguely annoyed is his default. Eddie is not happy to admit that this is something he also finds attractive about Steve Harrington. Did he mention he was pathetic? 

‘Well before that you talk some sense into him will you? He’s demanded I drive him over here tomorrow to hound you about something or other, don’t know what, he’s being all cagey and secretive about it. The little asshole.’ Steve is pulling into the dirt road driveway where Eddie and Wayne’s new little house sits. Just big enough next to the check and paid medical bills to make that NDA look actually very tempting to sign, yes, thank you, here was it?

Steve parks and the rain beats down on the roof, Eddie shifts to look at Steve's still grumpy face, grinning. ‘You coming in? We can brainstorm, get the little butt head to stop meddling and start respecting his elders. Or you know, we could get high.’ Steve's face morphs into that little smile again, the one he tries to hide, like he's fighting to stay grumpy. Eddie wants to bite him. 

Steve's face shifts again and what comes out of his mouth shifts Eddies very being into the fiery pits of despair. At least that’s what he would say if he was unhinged, which he is not. Not. One. Bit.    

‘Can’t man, I have a date.’ Steve waggles his eyebrows a little and Eddie feels his grin dim. The remaining smile stiffens. His face like wax. 

‘Oh. Well. I won't keep you then. Go get 'em tiger and all that jazz.’ Eddie knows it comes out weird, like he’s annoyed and upset. Which he is. But he knows he absolutely shouldn’t be. He just can't help it. Fuck!

Steve is looking at him, he looks all worried and confused. Of course he's confused, no reason for Eddie to act the way he is. Act like a freak. Eddie needs to get out of here. Save them both from the weird ass vibes his treacherous heart has caused.  

Eddie twists for the door. ‘Hold on Eddie, wait with me till the rain stops yeah? I’ll keep the heater running.’ Steve reaches out, hand on his shoulder. Eddie looks at his hand gripping the door handle and wishes. Wishes he could turn around and make a joke, say thank fuck because he doesn’t want to look like a wet rat from the rain, ask steve about the girl, maybe make fun of him if it seems like the really likes her. Anything. Wishes he could just be normal. Normal about Steve Harrington.

But he can’t. Steve has a date and Eddie’s heart hurts. 

‘I gotta go Stevie, enjoy your date.’ and Eddie steps out into the rain, jogging over to the front door, already sodden. He unlocks it and steps inside, doesn’t look back once. Leaning against the closed door he slides down into a crouch. He’s in love with him. Fuck.

Winter 1986 

‘Stevie? What the fuck?’ 

Eddie was expecting a night alone. It was the day before Christmas eve and Wayne had gone out with some work buddies. Steve was having some fancy dinner with his parents, Robin’s with her Grandma and the party had plans to all meet and celebrate here tomorrow. So, Eddie was going to sit and stare at a wall. Said wall was going to magically help him work up the courage to maybe kiss Steve’s cheek under the mistletoe that Robin had threatened him with. She knew all about his hopeless, disgusting crush on Steve and seemed to be reaching the end of her patience for Eddie’s chicken shit confession skills. 

The plan so far consisted of some amalgamation of making a big joke about it, throwing up before and after or maybe just staring at Steve until he gains the ability to read Eddie’s mind. In other words, the wall was giving him nothing apart from the urge to bang his head against it. 

The worst part of it all though? The devastating, world shattering part? Is that Eddie’s grubby little brain was starting to think that he might actually have a chance. Because Steve has been.. a little different lately. And while Robin has confirmed that he has not made any of these memories up in some kind of horny Steve Harrington fueled haze, she has also not explicitly told him whether Steve would actually be interested in dating a guy. So Eddie continues to torture himself with memories. 

Memories like when Steve got the new Wham! Record and started asking if he should try growing out his facial hair because ‘it looks really good right Ed’s? With the earring too? Think I could pull it off?’ and then blushing when Eddie said ‘He is a good looking dude… you do kinda look like George Michael, so, I guess?’ because Eddie is trying okay? Feeling the waters that are coming out to Steve. Him blushing seems like a good sign. Right? (Robin had rolled her eyes very hard at this story and Eddie had not appreciated the attitude.) 

Or at movie night last week Steve purposefully squished in next to Eddie, making Jonathan move further down. Before like, stretching and putting his arm along the sofa behind Eddie. But halfway through his arm was more, around Eddie's shoulders? And Steve was maybe, maybe twirling a strand of Eddie's hair through his fingers… 

There was also maybe the fact that Steve had started staying the night a lot more lately. He did a whole lot before too, but now it feels a little… different. He’s not just there because he’s a biblically accurate angel who helps Eddie change his bandages when Wayne has to work. Or because Eddie smoked him out too hard and he couldn’t drive home. Or even because he has to pick Robin up in the morning and her house is closer to Eddie’s now. No, now it almost feels like Steve stays the night in Eddie’s bed, with Eddie, because he wants to. 

God, Eddie wants to barf on himself for even thinking that! But Steve just, doesn’t go home. Instead he shuffles in beside Eddie, in borrowed sweats and having used the toothbrush that’s Steve’s in the bathroom. Snuggles down into Eddie’s pillows and slings a leg over both of Eddies. He’ll look all sleepy and soft and mumble out ‘night Ed’s’, like it doesn’t make Eddie want to clamber on his roof and howl at the moon. 

Eddie is busy replaying these moments in his mind like the most depressing, angsty, pining VHS tape. So, hearing the walkie Dustin had given him crackle from under his bed, well, it makes Eddie near jump out of his own skin. 

‘Shit. Shit. Hello? Um, hello? Over.’ Eddie’s hands are shaking as he fumbles with the walkie. He’s barely used it since everything ended, much preferring the telephone like, you know, most people! 

‘Hi, um, hey Eddie..’ Steve’s crackly voice could be heard through the little speaker. Eddie stands up, taking a calm down lap of his room, his heart still beating fast. ‘Stevie? What the fuck?’ 

‘Sorry, sorry, this is dumb, sorry. Sorry I’ll, I’ll just go.’ Eddie peeks through his bedroom curtain. Steve, illuminated by the dash light in the front seat of his car, is on the front drive and Eddie can see the walkie gripped tight in both hands. Steve rocking slightly. 

‘Oh Stevie.. Come in sweetheart, why are you still outside?’ Eddie’s voice is putty soft because something is wrong. All his fears have been switched for concern as he descends the stairs to the front door. Ripping it open to find Steve with his hand raised ready to knock.

‘Hi’ Steve’s smile is sheepish but Eddie can see his eyes are rimmed red like he’s had the shittiest fucking night. And now he’s embarrassed? Fuck that!  

‘Come in, come in come in. Sit down Stevie I’ll get you some tea.’ Eddie putters around the kitchen, making tea as efficiently as possible to not keep Steve waiting, but also wanting to give him time to settle. 

He was expecting Steve to be sitting on the couch, but Eddie finds him by the big bay window that looks out over the small backyard and further fields. It’s a nice view and the space is already set up with some blankets and cushions: Eddie likes to read here. Fat snowflakes have begun to fall outside. Steve has a blanket draped over his shoulders, he’s facing the window but his eyes seem to focus on something a million miles away.  

‘Here. Take this doll, it’ll keep you warm.’ Eddie hands over the steaming mug and Steve cradles it in his hands, giving Eddie a ghost of a smile. 

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ bumping shoulders with Steve he waits. Looking at Steve's profile in the soft lamplight. There are ghosts in his eyes and a tension in his shoulders that breaks Eddie’s heart. His brave friend Steve.    

‘I just.. Do you ever feel like you weren't made for the real world? Ugh this.. I dunno what I'm saying.’ Steve runs a hand over his face and looks embarrassed. Eddie wishes he could just get it, understand without words so he could help, but life doesn’t work like that. He waits, taking Steve’s hand in both of his. The corners of Steve’s mouth twitch and he looks at their joined fingers. Eddie watches as he takes a deep breath. Eddie thinks he’s beautiful. 

‘Its, it's just. When we were there, in that. When all that happened to me. Obviously it was horrible. Terrible. But, for a little moment? I liked it. I liked having a role, a job to do. I knew the stakes and I knew that the only, only important thing was keeping everyone alive. There was nothing more important than that.’ Steve is looking out of the window again. His eyes are fiery and raw. Eddie so often forgets how much Steve has seen, has been through. 

‘All my life I've been told what’s important and what to care about. Which ended up being a lot of not caring or only caring about really really unimportant stuff. And I just can't do that again. I can't be what my parents want. My fucking, my Dad man, it’s never enough, watever I do. He made that fucking clear tonight.’ He grimaces and Eddie hopes he never meets Harrington senior because he’s getting decked and Eddie thinks he’s finally on Hopper’s good side so maybe that’s not the best idea. Although, he thinks he can make a pretty good case for himself.  

‘I don’t think I can be what anyone wants. Guess I just dunno who I really am. Never have never will… But for a second in that hell, I was somebody. Maybe somebody. And now it's out here again and everyone has all these dreams. And I'm so so happy for them because you all can do anything. Every one of those kids has such a bright future. But I dunno how to do it, Ed’s. I hate it. I dunno how to live as just Steve anymore.’ Steve’s eyes have filled with tears and the hand Eddie’s holding trembles slightly. Eddie lays a soft kiss on his palm. 

‘Steve Harrington you are so good.’ Eddie steels himself to look directly in Steve's eyes, making sure he understands. ‘You are free. You are free and that means you can do anything you want. Anything. Doesn’t matter how long you take to figure yourself out, or work out what it is you need. There are no rules okay? None, and anyone who tells you differently is lying. Especially if it’s your cunt dad, okay?’ Steve's pretty pink lips part and his cheeks are rosy, he really looks like he's going to cry. He also looks like that brave boy who swung a bat at the devil. He’s miraculous. 

‘The ‘real world’ doesn’t exist and most of the expectations people have are bullshit. I should know, I don’t think I’ve ever done one thing that was expected of me in my whole life, honey. Guess you’re just a freak like me.’ Eddie grins with all his teeth. Steve's mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes wide. Before he’s looking down at his lap and smiling, a few tears spilling out and dropping onto his jeans. ‘Your role is to be you Steve. Nothing more, nothing less. People love you for you, not for what you did, even though it was fucking incredible. They’re alive because of you but they love you for being you.’ Eddie takes a deep breath and swallows the ‘I love you’ on his tongue, not tonight.. But soon, he’ll do it soon. Pinky promise. 

Steve has let more tears fall and he’s looking at Eddie like he's special. ‘Okay?’ Eddie squeezes their hands and Steve nods. ‘Yeah, yeah I’m. It’ll be. I’ll be okay.’ But Steve’s face crumples up again with a small choked sob. He sets down the mug heavily on the floor and covers his eyes with his forearm, folding in on himself. Succumbing to it all for  a moment. Letting himself cry.

‘Oh Steve. Tell me what you need, baby.’ Eddie holds their joined hands tighter and tries to suck up all of Steve's sadness through the skin of his palm. Steve sniffs all snotty and rubs at his eyes with his sleeve. Before, finally, looking at Eddie with his pretty brown eyes and his dumb hair and his moles. Eddie’s heart feels loud but Steve's tear stained face looks more calm than he’s seen for a long time. His brave, beautiful, miraculous friend Steve. 

“Let's just stay here, watch the snow a little longer." Steve says it softly, the moment feels like glass. The two of them in a snowglobe, safe on a shelf. Together. 

‘Of course Stevie. As long as you want. I’ll stay.’ Eddie means it, in his bones, he wants nothing more than to stay in this moment a little longer. Steve asks Eddie to stay and Eddie knows now that he never, ever wants to leave again. 

— 

Morning light filters through the blinds and Eddie shifts, consciousness swimming in that slow way only deep deep sleep can bring. He feels breath on his neck, the weight of an arm over his chest, a hand on his heart, socked feet tangled amongst his bare ones. 

He had taken Steve’s hand last night, after they’d watched the snow leave a blanket over the view from the window. After Steve's tears had dried and his eyelids had begun to droop. He’d lead Steve upstairs and they laid down together, wrapped in eachothers arms. Steve had fallen asleep first and Eddie let himself have a secret selfish moment where he stared down at the boy in his arms. Thought about how much had changed, but how, actually, the Steve in his bed had always been the Steve he knew, he just wasn't ready to see it yet. 

Eddie is looking at him now, there's sleep crusted in his eyes and drool on the pillow and Steve's hair is sticking up in an alarming number of angles. He’s so ugly and soft in the mornings. It makes Eddie feel good. Happy. 

They laze in bed, waking up slow and taking their time before starting the day. Eddie is on his back staring at the ceiling and Steve is leaning up on one elbow so he’s looking down at Eddie. He's staring. Eddie is trying to be very cool and calm about it. Very cool. Very calm. That's right!

‘Oh shoot.’ Steve snaps his fingers ‘I um, forgot your present at home, kinda left in a rush. Sorry.’ He looks genuinely sorry. Eddie doesn’t really care, because just having Steve here is gift enough. Yup, that's how Eddie Munson feels. It’s gross, he knows. 

‘Guess I’ll have to end it all then’ Eddie says with a casual shrug. Steve snorts and shoves him like he doesn’t find Eddie's dramatic’s hilarious. 

‘I do have something I can give you now though. A gift of sorts.’ Steve taps a finger to his chin and looks so mischievous. The light from outside hits the back of his hair so it glows, like a halo. Eddie wants to kiss him so bad. Kiss the angel boy in his bed. Shit.

‘It better not be a wet willy. Toby Hamelton gave me one once in the fifth grade and I literally punched him in the face on reflex Steve it was so fucking gross.’ Eddie knows he’s rambling but it’s the only way he won’t kiss Steve right now. Right on his pretty pretty pretty face. 

Steve smiles at him so softly, so sweetly, like Eddie isn’t being super weird right now. Smiles at Eddie and leans in, ghosts his mouth so so close over Eddie’s, looks into his eyes. Eddie’s breath hitches and he can’t move but he swears he feels his pupils dilate. 

Steve must see it too, because he closes the gap. Eddie’s eyes slide shut and his hands and feet tingle, there are fireworks going off in his ears and his lips fizz and he’s overwhelmed in the best possible way. 

He’s kissing Steve Harrington. Eddie Munson is kissing Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington is kissing Eddie Munson. 

Eddie pulls out of the kiss with a tiny gasp ‘You didn’t suddenly gain the ability to read my mind did you?’ Steve looks so perplexed, eyebrows furrowed and lips in a little ‘o’, staring at Eddie’s mouth. He gives a small shake of his head. ‘Okay good, good yeah. Good.’ 

Eddie goes back in, lifting a hand to Steve’s jaw, holding him softly while he sucks on his bottom lip. Steve is good at kissing, Eddie thinks he could write a whole album about this kiss alone. Maybe he will. He feels like he can do anything! Maybe he’ll kill God later, after breakfast. Why not? Ha! 

They break apart for breath and Steve's pupils are blown wide, Eddie wants to drown in them. He feels giddy, maybe a little hysterical. ‘You know, before you came over yesterday I was working up the courage to kiss your cheek under the mistletoe.. Which seems super lame and embarrassing now that I think about it. Forget I said anything actually. Yeah, uhm so... Anyway, thank you. For. For the gift.’ Steve is loosing romance points for every stupid word he lets Eddies say. 

‘That is pretty lame dude’ Steve smiles sweetly and Eddie knows it's lame and Steve is probably joking but he doesn't need to to be told that right now. Nasty boy… Also.

‘Dude? You sully this rapturous moment, nay my very existence! By calling me dude?’ Is that normal? Do people do that after they kiss? Surely Steve doesn't call girls he kisses dude. Oh no, Eddie’s spiralling. This is a spiral.

‘Eddie’ Steve tries but Eddie’s brain is filled with static. Eyes boring holes in the ceiling, hands flailing. 

‘Steve Harrington kisses Eddie Munson and calls him dude, well I never!’ The gaul! The gumption! The audacity! 

‘Eddie!’ Steve places his hand on Eddie’s cheek, turning it so they're looking into eachothers eyes. 

‘Yes?’ Steve is so pretty and his palm is so warm.

‘I really really like you Ed’s’ and Steve must be able to read Eddie's mind because those words are like a balm on his soul. He feels his cheeks dust pink, all the fears and embarrassment float. Steve likes him back.

Leaning back onto his elbow Steve looks back down at Eddie on his back. The same as before but so so different. ‘Happy Christmas Eddie’ Steve's smile is dopey and perfect and this is the best Christmas ever.

#LexsWinterFicChallenge #StrangerThingsFestiveFun #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fluff #christmas steddie #my fic #goblin and stevie baby big time #this was so fun to write #hope u all enjoy #can't wait for the little gay people in my phone to finally read this #hope it has them screaming! #hotlunch #<3

[flowercrowngods]

of snow angels, ridiculousness, and the liberating breathlessness of falling in love with robin buckley

There's insistent knocking on the front door that draws Nancy's attention away from the book she's been sucked into for the last three hours.

"Coming!" she calls, moving the blanket from around her shoulders and rushing down the stairs. The knocking only gets more insistent and louder, and Nancy calls again, "I am coming, geez!"

If this is Mike who forgot his keys, again, she's going to ask Steve for the nail bat to whoop his ass like Erica has suggested a couple times already.

But when she opens the door, it's not Mike standing there. It's a very adorable, very excited-looking Robin, her hair and jacket covered in thick white snowflakes. When exactly it started snowing, Nancy doesn't know, but the streets are white.

And so is Robin.

Robin, who's grinning at her, swaying back and forth on her feet.

"It's snowing," is all she says, and Nancy wants to roll her eyes, because obviously, but all she can do is chuckle, feeling a bit breathless.

"Y-yeah, looks like it is, huh?"

"Snow, Nance!" Robin is laughing, her excited rocking almost turning into little jumps on the spot now, the same way Dustin does when he's overly enthused.

"It's winter, Robbie, that's bound to happen, you know?"

The nickname slips past her tongue before she can rein it in, and Nancy feels her cheeks heat up. She smiles, because that's what happens when Robin is there, and leans against the doorframe – partly to keep herself from reaching out and taking Robin's hand in hers like she's been longing to do.

It's crazy and Nancy doesn't really know what to do with it. This fluttering inside her chest, this inability to stop smiling, and – most importantly – this readiness to just follow Robin anywhere. Not just physically, but mentally. Robin's thoughts are all over the place most of the time, but still Nancy wants to follow them, wants to understand, wants to share with Robin the way she sees the world.

Nancy has always loved exploration and knowledge, has always valued facts and arguments and discourse and all those things that make stupid people roll their eyes in exasperation and impatience. But never Robin. She will engage with Nancy's hunger for knowledge, will support it, will spend hours in the library with her, smiling and bringing Nancy books upon books, even if they will stray from their original mission because Robin got excited over one thing or another, and then it's Nancy who indulges with a smile on her face.

They follow each other, and they do it with soft smiles, gentle massages if they've been stuck in one position too long, and patience. Curiosity. Trust.

It's new. It shouldn't work – and it didn't, in the beginning ­– but it does. Miraculously, wonderfully, it does. Miraculously, wonderfully, Robin's excitement sparks a giddiness in Nancy that she can only compensate by letting out a breathy laugh. 

That only makes Robin grin all the brighter, and Nancy feels dizzy with it.

"Come and make snow angels with me. Dingus is busy, he has betrayed me and I'll make him pay by making the mightiest of all snow angels! And you're gonna join me."

Nancy's cheeks are starting to ache from smiling so much, but still she keeps at it. She crosses her arms in front of her chest and inclines her head.

"Oh, am I now?"

"You are in fact, Lady Wheeler," Robin says in that voice of hers. That stupidly endearing voice. "You're going to put on your coat and that floofy pink wooly hat that Steve crocheted for you the other week, and you're gonna join me on this adventure."

They look at each other for a moment or two, the snow keeps falling, covering Robin in white flakes that look so good on her, that make her look so young, so carefree. So beautiful.

See, beautiful is not usually a word that Nancy associates with the other woman. Smart, yes. Adorable, infuriating, endearing, really fucking amazing, sure. But lately, Nancy has started to put beautiful up there on the shelf of Robin Words inside her mind.

Before she knows it, captivated by the ethereal beauty of Robin covered in snow, waiting patiently, the entirety of her absolutely breathtaking attention solely on Nancy, she reaches up and brushes a strand of Robin's hair back behind her ear.

"Uhm." 

The excitement and giddiness make way for something different and Nancy watches as Robin's face falls slightly. It does that sometimes when she looks at Nancy for a bit too long and Nancy looks back. When they share something personal that makes the air sizzle or heavy between them.

And every time Nancy forgets how to breathe.

"I'll be right back," she says, her voice no more than a whisper, before she whirls around and all but slams the door shut behind her. She leans against it for a second, catching her breath and clenching her eyes shut. "Get it together, Wheeler!" she hisses at herself.

But eventually she does grab her coat, puts on her new hat that Robin keeps commenting on, and grabs some matching woollen gloves. When she opens the door, Robin is still outside, but her grin has made way to a more tender smile. She's made no move to free her hair from the snow, and Nancy has to bite her tongue on the remark that she's gonna catch her death like that. Because snow looks too good on her, and Nancy apparently likes to watch now.

"Well, let's go then, Lady Buckley," she says and pulls the front door closed behind her.

Robin immediately offers her arm for Nancy to link with, which she promptly accepts.

"Oh, I'm no lady," she says, taking Nancy down her driveway and onto the street, leading her away from home. "I'm a knight who tricked the king in a game of wits. I'm gonna be head of the royal guard one day, actually."

Nancy smiles down at the white ground, her heart fluttering at Robin's antics. Of course she's a knight, not a lady, and of course she says it in such a matter-of-fact voice that there's not a hint of doubt to it.

"Let me guess, the king is Steve."

"Please," Robin scoffs. "The king is Erica, who's tricking the entire kingdom into believing Steve has any say here."

Nancy laughs at that and sobers only when Robin joins her. Sobers because it's quite breathtaking to see Robin joking and making up stories so easily, laughing in a manner so carefree it's liberating.

Robin is always liberating. Nancy has never met someone like her, has never felt like she does around Robin. Never dared. Never followed anyone as lightly as she does with her.

At night, when the hours on the clock aren't real anymore, stuck in the void between 2am and 5am, Nancy feels like she has uncovered one of life's great mysteries when she's with Robin. Or maybe Robin has discovered it simply by existing and being herself. By being Steve's soulmate.

But Nancy gets to witness it, gets to exist in Robin's orbit, gets to follow her wherever she leads, gets to explore and experience life through Robin's eyes and hands and words. There is always sense to her ramblings, and it's usually deeper than she lets on at first, but it always captures Nancy in a way that no one ever has before.

Like now, when Robin lets go of her arm and takes Nancy's gloved hand in hers, leading her down a trail and into the forest. She's sure that Robin isn't even entirely aware of how tight their grip is, but Nancy only laughs as she follows, hiding the way she squeezes Robin's hand by feigning a stumble here and there. Robin's grip is secure and unrelenting, and Nancy feels safe.

"We always used to go here when I was little, because my mother said that the angels are always in the woods more than around the houses, and so they'd find my snow angels better if they were here than in my backyard. Granted, that didn't stop me from essentially digging over our yard in my clumsy attempts at making snow angels first thing in the morning, but mother just left me to it and made hot choc– Oh shit!"

Robin stops abruptly and whirls around to Nancy, still not letting go of her hand.

"I should have made hot chocolate! Because we're gonna be freezing so hard when we're done. I'm so sorry, Nancy, next time I'm gonna bring hot chocolate!"

Next time. Nancy isn't even entirely sure what's gonna happen, but the thought of a next time makes her heart jump somehow. So she brings her hands up to Robin's shoulders and keeps her still.

"Next time," she says, smiling gently at the ball of nerves that is Sir Robin of Buckley, royal knight to the kingdom.

"Next time," Robin confirms and calms down. "Next time. Good, yes, perfect." She looks around at the untouched snow in the clearing they have reached and then looks back at Nancy with an almost manic grin. "Let's make some snow angels, Lady Wheeler."

"Sure," Nancy laughs, everything inside her tingling in the face of that look on Robin's face. "I'm guessing this is as good a time as any to tell you that I've honestly never made a snow angel before."

And Robin is gaping at her. Appalled, horrified, positively flabbergasted! Nancy wants to kiss it away, but all she does is turn away with what can only be called a giggle. Nancy Wheeler is not someone who giggles! She hasn't since sophomore year of high school! Leave it to Robin Buckley to resort her to all those confusing things again, but in a softer way than boys ever have.

Maybe that's what it's like to like a girl. Soft. Easy. Tentative and yet so sure. The air filled with a kiddy kind of patience and a patient kind of giddiness that makes you want to take her hand more than it makes you want to kiss her.

Maybe. She never asked. But it's definitely what it's like to like Robin Buckley. Maybe she's special like that, too.

"I'll show you how to make a snow angel, Nancy Elizabeth Wheeler the twenty-third, and if it's the last thing I do!" Robin declares, and Nancy sputters at the ridiculousness of the name. Robin only grins back, obviously proud of herself. God, Nancy wants to kiss her stupid and then do nothing but hug her in the snow.

And so Robin shows her. They lie down in the snow beside each other, their eyes meeting, their arms spread out. Robin reaches for her hand, linking their fingers slowly, oh so slowly that it sort of takes Nancy's breath away. She wants to learn. Not only how to make a snow angel, but also how to hold Robin's hand in a way that makes her feel safe, too. Warm. Wonderful. Giddy.

All those urgently soft things that Nancy is feeling right now.

Gently, slowly, Robin moves their linked hands up until they can't hold each other's eyes anymore, the sight obstructed by linked hands on glittering white powder. It's Nancy who moves their hands down, farther than where they started, all the way until they'd have to let go.

"Yeah," Robin rasps when they still again. "That's how you do it. You move your arms up and down to create the wings, and then your legs to make the dress."

Nancy smirks, moving their hands in the motion Robin suggested, her other arm joining in, but her legs still. "What if my angel is actually a royal knight who tricked the king and will be head of the royal guard one day?"

She's flirting. And even though Robin's cheeks are red from the cold, she could swear they flush even further.

"Knights can wear dresses, too."

"Mm-hm. This one feels better like this, though," Nancy argues, her smile softening. "They look better like that, too."

Robin hesitates for a second, her breath hitching, before she comes up to lean on one arm, hand still linked with Nancy's.

"Ridiculous angel, huh?"

Nancy feels dizzy with the way Robin looks at her, that heaviness back to her gaze, a certain importance that looks a lot like the urgent softness and soft urgency Nancy's been feeling since Robin came knocking on her door.

"Absolutely infuriating angel," she agrees, feeling rather breathless. "Ridiculous. Stubborn enough to turn entire worlds on their head, and endearing enough to get away with it."

Robin huffs, looking down for a moment as if in an attempt to hide her face. Nancy can't quite breathe or track her own mind, but that's fine because all she wants to focus on is Robin.

That's another wonderful feature about her. Nancy's mind is very loud very often, but not in the same way that Eddie's or Steve's or even Robin's are. It's loud with responsibility, with the need to control, to explore, to figure out, to solve.

Robin gets her to quiet down. Gets her to focus on something other than that.

Something less to do with Nancy Wheeler and the world, and everything to do with Robin Buckley and the universe. Life. In a different way than what can be captured and expressed with science and reason and words.

That was what's drawn Nancy in, and that's what's keeping her.

It's what makes her shift her hold on Robin's hand so they're holding onto each other more securely.

"What?" she's whispering when Robin doesn't move for a while, and it's quiet enough not to burst the bubble of heaviness they find themselves in.

"Nothing." Robin shakes her head and then lets herself fall forward into the snow, her head inches away from Nancy's. Their hands, still linked, are now resting on Robin's stomach. "The ridiculous angel is just a mess."

Nancy's heart is fluttering at Robin's proximity and her breathy voice so, so close. She turns lightly, lying on her side in the snow, her other hand landing between them. They're so close she can smell Robin's scent of laundry detergent, books, Steve and something much sweeter.

"How?" she asks, just as breathy as Robin.

There's a huff of breath and Nancy can see that Robin's eyes are closed. "Because the ridiculous angel is ridiculous enough that… that they can't stop thinking about… someone. And think that there might be something there. Something more. With that someone."

"Someone," Nancy says, smiling still, and Gods, she feels so inebriated with it. "Why's it ridiculous to like that someone?"

"It's not ridiculous to like that someone. It's a law of nature, actually, to like that someone. She's, like, the smartest, prettiest, most badass gir– someone out there. It's just ridiculous to think that they would like the angel back. It's ridiculous to think that they'd like how much the angel dreams about taking their hand and holding it as they kiss. How much the angel thinks about holding them. It's all the angel, the ridiculous, infuriating angel can think about. The angel is actually a crazy person, you see."

"I see," Nancy breathes, her smile so wide, so painful that she wonders briefly if it should at all be possible to smile so wide. But she does. Because Robin still has her eyes closed. Because Robin is a crazy person. And so is Nancy.

Crazy. Absolutely batshit. Gone for the angel.

"Robbie?"

"Yes?"

"Can you look at me?"

"Why?" She sounds like a toddler, her question more a refusal than a complaint, and it makes Nancy laugh. Crazy.

"Please?" And Nancy knows no one can resist her pouty voice. Robin herself has told her so.

It works. Robin opens those pretty eyes of hers and Nancy hopes that one day she'll get her breath back. They look at each other for a moment, two, three, and then Nancy moves her free hand up to Robin's cheek, gently stroking the hair back from her eyes.

And then she whispers, because she's still out of breath, because she doesn't want to spook Robin, and because she doesn't want to burst their bubble. She isn't ready yet for the world to hear. Only Robin. Only Robin. "None of that is ridiculous."

It takes a moment, but then understanding dawns in those eyes and Nancy is falling and falling and falling. That smile catches her, though.

"It's not?"

"It's not."

A beat. 

"Shit," Robin breathes, and then they're laughing again, leaning into each other with it until their foreheads are touching, the snow making way for every confession, every touch, every possibility.

"Nance," she whispers once they've calmed down again. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yeah."

And so they kiss in the embrace of the snow angels they've made, half covered by snow, secluded and safe from the world so ready to judge. It's just them. And Nancy finds that kissing Robin Buckley feels just as right as saving the world with her, just as right as following her into the library, into the forest, into the depths of her mind.

She never wants to stop.

written for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six winter fic challenge. the prompt: “I’ve honestly never made a snow angel before.” 🤍 thank you for creating this event/challenge! 🤍

#ronance #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #ronance fic #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #stranger things #dio words #this is my first ronance idk if this is okay. Nancy is a bit strong on the introspection in this one but eh it happens #she has a lot of thoughts okay? #sapphic love is soft and so are they. I hoped to convey that #go check out the collection on ao3 and read people's works (or click the tag to read on tumblr #lexswinterficchallenge #might post this to ao3 when it's not 3.17am lmao

[undreaming-fanfiction]

My Kind of Perfect

Ahaha. I finally finished my entry for @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six Winter Fic Challenge. Well, one of them. This one is Looking for the perfect Christmas tree. Also on Ao3 because it's kinda long. Enjoy!

Steve Harrington hated the word "perfect". He hated it with passion fuelled by over a decade of unreasonable expectations, disappointed glances and stern talks about fixing his priorities, hated it even more after he saw all the pressure perfection put Nancy under. It was such a funny thing, hating something yet still feeling like a failure for not being exactly that. It didn't matter how much he tried, his parents said it was only the results that mattered, not the effort. So yes, perfection could kiss Steve's toned ass.

Steve learned to find beauty in imperfections instead. He adored how Robin sometimes rambled so much she bit her lip or her tongue in the process and then kept sticking it out to make it hurt less. He loved how Nancy sometimes laughed so hard at Robin's corny jokes that she forgot to laugh like a lady but snorted instead, making such undignified noises that it had everyone present howling with laughter. He enjoyed the annoying sassiness of the younger Wheeler, Dustin's constant but caring nagging, Lucas's stubborn nature. And most of all, his heart could burst with fondness when he saw Eddie Munson chewing on his hair, storing pens in the messy bun he sometimes pulled it into, scribbling over his arms random lyrics that had just popped into his head. This was what beauty was in Steve's world, not the constrictive perfection his parents sought.

When his boyfriend - and boy, did even thinking that word make something flutter in his chest, he sure hoped it wasn't a heart attack, but even if it was, Eddie was worth it - asked him to join the search for the perfect Christmas tree for himself and Wayne ("and you too, Steve, there's no way you're spending another Christmas Eve alone"), he really wanted to tell Eddie that any tree would be perfect because it would be for them, decorated by them, that he didn't care for the word at all. But Eddie's eyes were huge and warm, full of wonder and excitement, and Steve just bit his tongue and adjusted Eddie's scarf before heading out of the door. He tried not to think about all the times his father inspected their Christmas tree and if he found a single crack, a single imperfection on any of the ornaments, it got immediately removed and tossed into the trash. What a message did that send to young Steve Harrington.

For the better or the worse, yeah no, definitely for the better, they were here now, trying to find a...tree? Steve honestly had no idea what a perfect tree looked like, he assumed it should be green and probably not balding. That would have been enough for him. But surprise surprise, Eddie Munson, probably the messiest person on this planet Earth, could be a perfectionist. Why and to what end, Steve didn't know. They had been at it for hours already, Eddie was inspecting every single branch, measuring the tree if it would fit in the trailer, watching it from varying angles and Steve was freezing. He tried to be helpful, he really did, but he didn't understand the task and he definitely didn't understand the reason for it.

As it became darker and colder, Eddie grew more agitated. He seemed stressed, his eyes were darting among the trees and after asking Steve to choose between two nearly identical trees and Steve admitting he had no preference, Eddie snapped at him. "Really, Steve? Just pick what you like, how is that difficult? Or aren't these good enough? I'm just trying to get it right, find a perfect one, but I can't do it alone, man!"

And Steve was getting frustrated too, all too reminded of all the times when his mother pulled perfectly ironed shirts from his closet in shades so similar they could very well be the same and asked him, as if he ever had a choice anyway, which one he preferred. Maybe that comparison wasn't fair because Eddie was here, Eddie actually cared and was giving him options, but the ridiculousness of the whole situation hit him like a ton of bricks. "But why?" he asked, exasperated. He ran hand through his hair, ruining it - but perhaps not, it was full of snow and moisture anyway. "Why does it have to be perfect? And what does perfect even mean, I don't even know what we're looking for! So help me a bit here!"

Eddie just stared at him as if he grew a second head. "Why?! Because it's...it's our first Christmas, Steve. Our first Christmas together, so it needs to be perfect." When he saw Steve's blank stare, he continued, losing himself in examining yet another perfectly adequate tree. "I might not be able to do fancy stuff, but this is like, basic, you know? You just...you deserve it and more, and I want to give it to you. So excuse me if I'm going to freeze to death to find the prettiest tree for us! Because you, Steve Harrington, deserve perfection and I might be, well, me, but I'm going to do my damn best to give you that." It was looking more and more like Eddie was trying to crawl inside that tree instead of measuring its circumference.

Of course, they had talked about this already. The quick sleight of hand that Eddie performed with dirty, cracked or too used mugs, plates. The ashamed look towards every crack, every spot of peeling paint in the trailer. It might have been newer than the one they lost to Vecna, but still nothing luxurious and no matter how many times Steve told him that it was okay, that he liked their home was actually lived in, there was always this unspoken feeling of inadequacy in Eddie's actions.

Steve reached out and stopped Eddie's frantic patting of the tree, whatever it was supposed to be. "Baby. I've never...I don't want perfect. I just want you."

"Oh wow. Ouch." But Eddie's mouth corners were twitching and he finally let go of the unlucky tree. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special."

"Wait, no. I mean, I'm not taking it back because I mean it, but in a good way!" Steve was rambling now and he would feel hot with shame if there wasn't that special amused twinkle in Eddie's eyes that never felt like a judgement, only kind teasing. "Okay, it sounded shitty because to me you're perfect, but also maybe not? And that's what I like, what I love so much. I'm sick of perfection, of fancy dinners, perfectly cut and trimmed trees, shiny baubles without a single fingerprint on them. Presents wrapped so perfectly you don't even want to touch them because you'll ruin them. Do you know we used scissors to open our presents, back when my parents were still home? Tearing the paper off was too unsightly or some shit like that."

Eddie blinked and his mouth hung open, forgetting to snicker at Steve's attempt to salvage his speech about perfection. "What the fuck?"

Steve just nodded and if his smile didn't fully reach his eyes, it was only for a moment. "Right? That's where perfection gets you. It's all for appearances, no real thing under it. You can have the prettiest thing but I'm so fucking sick of feeling like I'm just a visitor in my own life. So I want something real. I want cookies that are maybe a little burnt, Christmas dinner on mismatched plates, a mistletoe that falls into my face when I kiss you because you didn't attach it properly."

Eddie gave a theatrical sigh and rolled his eyes, nudging Steve in the side through his coat. "That happened only one time and I fixed it right after, I swear to god, are you going to blame me for it forever?!"

"It has only been like a week, but yes. When Dustin decides to give us grandchildren or whatever his kids would be considered, this will be the first family story they will learn," snickered Steve. His smile grew into something more restrained, tender. "But I wouldn't trade it for the world. And if there are those stubborn bits on your ugly Christmas sweater that won't come off, and even if you bitch about it being too short or too long or too ugly which, sorry love, but it is-"

"It was on sale! And you have to admit the pattern is crazy interesting! Is it a snowman? Is it a cryptid? No one knows!"

"-shush. I'm complimenting you here, not your sweater. What I mean is - it's my kind of perfect. Anything with you is. Hell, we could throw a stone blindfolded and take whichever tree it hit and I'd think that's the best one."

Eddie leaned towards him and kissed the tip of his nose. "Way too dark for that, Stevie. Good method though." He was still joking, of course he was, it was Eddie after all and humor was his second nature. But the way he managed to tame his restless energy to listen to Steve, the way he was biting his lips and hiding his smile...maybe Steve was finally getting through to him. Maybe practice really makes perfect (there's that word again, damn it), repetition too.

"Next time then," laughed Steve. "But really, I couldn't care less what tree we bring home. It's another...temporary thing, if that makes sense? What makes me happy is how excited you are for it, but please, Eddie. Don't do this for me because you think you have to. I'm not...I'm not like this because I want to. It's because I had to be. And trust me," he said, biting his lip perhaps too hard, too deep, but there were some things he found difficult to admit even to himself, "I'd sometimes like to let go. Not shout at the kids when they dive nose first into the first muddy puddle or think about which laundry detergent would get rid of the stains because I don't want their parents yelling at them. And I know they won't because they're good people, but the thought is still there, you know? And being able to...not wash dishes immediately after dinner, not to scrub my shoes so they don't look used, it's kind of new for me, but also...I like it. It's so freeing, but it's small steps, you know. It's like you're my safe space to be more myself, more...faulty? Imperfect? Is that a word? That. Yeah, I just...with you I don't feel like I need to be so anxious all the time. So, uh...what I'm trying to say is...we can pick any tree you like?" he finished, feeling even more stupid than usual. Where did he even intend to take this speech? How did they get to this from a simple tree shopping trip?

Eddie chewed on his glove, lost in thought. And maybe it was a little bit gross and the teeth imprints on the fingers made Steve's brain do a small gymnastic number, bouncing against the walls of his cranium, but he would always manage to shush it. This is what I want, he'd tell that stubborn squishy asshole that was equally his friend and enemy, and if you don't like it, we can get Eddie new gloves when he chews through these. Compromises everywhere, with Eddie, with his own brain. "Eddie?"

Eddie shook his head, sending those pretty curls flying everywhere and stirring the setting layer of snowflakes. "We're so unpacking all of that later, Stevie. Over coffee or something. And then we're leaving the mugs in the sink for half a day. At least. What did I want to...oh. That." He finally stopped nibbling on his finger and grabbed Steve's hand instead, squeezing it. It must have been impossible to feel anything through their thick gloves, but Steve could swear he suddenly felt warmer. "So, what I'm going to tell you will sound crazy lame. Like, absolutely lame. And I know you'll claim it's adorable or some shit like that, but I'm acknowledging the lameness in advance so can kick this elephant out of the room and...yeah." He cleared his throat and maybe his face grew a little bit redder, maybe not even from the cold. "So, we normally don't get like, real Christmas trees," he admitted, watching Steve's shoes as if they were the pinnacle of the latest Hellfire campaign. "It's like, at first we couldn't really afford them, you know? It's another expense and just having Christmas with Wayne was everything I wanted. One of the guys from the plant gave him an artificial tree. Kinda small, to fit in the trailer, and it's all crooked and probably older than I am. But even when I started my...um. Side hustle. And we could afford a real tree, we kind of didn't want it anymore? Because Hubert-"

"Hubert?" interjected Steve, snorting and attempting to cover it - very poorly - as a sneeze.

Eddie waved his hand. "Yes, Hubert. The tree is old enough to have a driver's licence, Steve. Of course he has a name. I wish I could remember where we got it, but anyways, we kind of stuck with Hubert every Christmas because he's like a family. It."

"He," grinned Steve and wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist, pulling him a little closer. It was magical how well they fit together. "Don't you dare disrespect Hubert like that."

That earned him a giggle from Eddie too. "True, my humble apologies, Hubert. So anyway, I wanted to get a real tree this year because when I drove past your house in the past, it was always decorated to perfection and I just thought...I don't want you to settle for anything less, you know? So I was even ready to get some fancy baubles or whatever they call it because Hubert always wore the weirdest combination of anything and everything we could find, did you know they even sold Garfield ornaments? I got them for Wayne one year and they're so fucking ugly Stevie, it's no joke how atrocious they are, but it kind of became our thing. We'd hold competitions every year to buy the ugliest ornament possible and add it to Hubert's ever-growing medal collection. So, um..." he trailed off, pressing his lips into a thin line. "What was I saying?"

Steve stroked his cheek and laughed as several snowflakes melted into Eddie's skin. They were so going to regret just standing in the freezing night and discussing Garfield ornaments. "I believe you were just describing my perfect Christmas tree, Eddie."

Eddie shot him a disbelieving look. "You mean old, plastic, wobbly and with a flamingo topper that Wayne got as a joke one year and we never bothered replacing it?"

"Yes." He leaned in again and kissed Eddie's forehead, feeling the cool skin against his lips. "It wound be my absolute honor to meet Mr. Hubert Munson. None of these compare," he declared and waved his arm around, pointing at the perfect, even trees.

Before he could pull back, Eddie wrapped himself around Steve, like an octopus. His arms went around his back and squeezed hard enough for Steve's back to produce a mostly pleasant crunch. Eddie burst out laughing before nibbling beneath the edge of Steve's scarf, placing a small kiss on his pulse point. "Have I ever told you I love you Steve?"

Steve went for casual, shrugging and willing his racing heart and the butterflies in his stomach to take a break. "Probably, but you know my memory is shit. Care to repeat it?"

"Sneaky," smirked Eddie and then he repeated it. And again. And maybe once more for good measure.

--

When Wayne returned from his shift, he found his son (well, nephew, but the paperwork could fuck off, he and Eddie knew what they were to each other) and his boyfriend sleeping on the couch, exhausted and grasping half-unpacked boxes of Christmas ornaments. Steve was cradling the flamingo topper like a firstborn child and Eddie was wearing a tinsel crown. Wayne's heart swelled at the scene, the domesticity he never imagined Eddie having in Hawkins, but apparently he was wrong and so glad for it.

"Don't you have a bed, boy?" he asked and was treated with the glorious sight of Steve straightening up, still half-asleep, and Eddie faceplanting into the carpet, sending the tinsel crown flying. "Not the ground. Bed," he added.

"Funny. Such a funny man," mumbled Eddie into the carpet. "Glad it runs in the family. Might have thought I'm adopted otherwise. You know...because I have hair."

Wayne just gave a quiet huff of laughter and proceeded to make himself a cup of tea. Beer would have been his poison of choice, but it was cold as hell outside and he wanted to linger in the kitchenette a bit longer. His boy looked happy, so sue him. "I'm sure glad you're still sleepin', boy, otherwise I'd have to take that comment personally. You wish your head was as shiny. You okay there, Steve?"

Steve moved his unfocused gaze in Wayne's general direction. "Yessir...Wayne, I mean. Okay. Am."

Suppressing a smirk, Wayne shook his head. "Watching Star Wars again? I swear I know that weird word order from somewhere..." He stopped himself and looked around the room, narrowing his eyes. There was something missing. "Hey boys, didn't you go tree shopping or somethin'?"

Eddie had already risen from the ground and leaned against Steve's knees, the other boy mindlessly running his fingers through Eddie's ever tousled hair. "Oh. That. We tried, but...let's just say that someone was eager to meet Hubert instead. Apparently no other tree compares."

Something stirred in Wayne's chest again. He'd always known Eddie wouldn't be with him forever, that the strange little traditions they had would eventually disappear as his boy built his own life. So when Eddie suggested with poorly hidden guilt that they might have to leave Hubert in the closet this year, Wayne accepted it, as he should have. Of course things would be different now, with Eddie dating the Harrington boy.

Except the boy - no, Steve - surprised him and kept doing so. Wayne had never met a kid, rich or not, this eager to please, this kind, with such a big heart and so much to give. He tiptoed around their kitchenette to prepare breakfast for Eddie and Wayne, wasn't afraid to get himself dirty repairing stuff around the trailer, watched games with Wayne while Eddie jokingly whined in the background...Wayne had never bothered to imagine what is son-in-law or daughter-in-law would be one day, but he knew a good one when he saw them. And Steve was as good as they came.

Wiping a rogue tear - nope, more like water condensation, it was freezing outside, had he mentioned that? - he gestured towards the closet. "Well? Why is Hubert still restin' then?"

Eddie pushed himself upright and walked towards Wayne, hiding his smile behind one of those strands of hair. "I wanted to wake him up, but Steve insisted we should all be here for his resurrection. So...we were waiting for you, old man."

Well, shit. What was an old man to do with all these emotions? Wayne just reached out and grasped Eddie's shoulder, slightly shaking him. "Thoughtful. I like your boy."

Eddie chuckled and laid his hand over Wayne's. "I'm glad. But he's mine, don't get any dirty ideas!"

Before Wayne could come up with a witty response, as if he could ever beat Eddie in that, Eddie had already made his way towards the couch and knelt in front of Steve who had started slightly snoring during their conversation, sleeping upright. "Wake up, sleeping beauty," cooed Eddie and gently squeezed Steve's knee. "Time to meet Hubert."

"Hubert?!" Steve was suddenly wide awake, shooting up so fast Eddie fell back to the carpet, ass first.

"Oh wow," mused Eddie from the ground, "how come you never react to my name like that? I wish I had love like your and Hubert's."

Wayne just sipped his hot tea as Steve helped Eddie up, muttering half-hearted apologies. "Don't mind the boy, he was raised well but became a clown anyway. Now...shall we?"

Steve Harrington still hated the word perfect. The Christmas of 1986 ended up being anything but perfect in the way his parents defined the word, with the never ending fits of laughter over the Munson ugly ornament collection, the flamingo topper (after a round of arguing and lots of eggnog, the flamingo was ceremoniously named Hugo, Hubert's butler), Hubert's crooked plastic branches and cookies that might not have been decorated perfectly, with attempted Hellfire designs and sports club logos, a D20 thrown here and there, but most of them ended up being blobs of icing anyway. Despite Eddie's reassurances, the mistletoe ended up falling again, tangling in Steve's hair and resulting in Eddie shouting "THIS WAS MY PLAN ALL ALONG, NOW I GET TO KISS YOU ALL THE TIME HARRINGTON!" The turkey had to be chopped into smaller pieces because the trailer oven was too small and the mashed potatoes were somehow full of chunks.

And somehow, it was more perfect than any other Christmas Steve had ever known. With Wayne hugging Steve after unwrapping two tickets to a baseball game, the kids stopping by and filling the trailer way beyond its capacity, exchanging gifts ("tear that paper off, Steve! No scissors in this house! Not now, not ever!"), piling mugs stained by hot chocolate in the sink and avoiding them until evening, it was everything Steve ever wanted.

As they removed Hubert's medals (well, ornaments, but there was apparently some lore, Hubert was an elderly gentleman with army commendations and maybe they could get a moustache ornament next year?) and Eddie solemnly announced it is now time to lay Hubert down to his yearly rest, Steve kissed Eddie goodbye and unwillingly made his way to the Harrington household. His parents were supposed to be back that day and he felt obliged to greet them, even though they were mostly strangers to each other these days.

His mother outdid herself, she actually embraced Steve and patted his back, like a real mather would. "So glad to be home, Steven. How were your holidays?" she asked and maybe she meant it, maybe not, but Steve couldn't care less.

He looked her right in the eye and smiled, unrestrained for the first time. "They were perfect."

#steddie fanfic #steddie #lexswinterficchallenge #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie Christmas

[toburnup]

“So what’s the plan?”

Steve shoots him a look. “Why do I have to have a plan?”

“Your car.” Eddie shrugs. “Your call.”

"I think..." Steve sighs. "It would be safer to wait for the snow to stop, and then go from there. I don't want to actually crash into a ditch or something." He glances at Eddie, nervousness on his face. "What d'you think?"

"I'd say we're fucked either way but if this means I don't have to walk in the snow, I'm all for it."

"That's the spirit."

(Eddie hates Steve, for the most part. And now they're stranded in the middle of nowhere. And it's snowing.)

[read more on ao3] steddie | rated e | 9.3k my entry to lex's spicy six winter fic challenge 2022 (@thefreakandthehair) prompt: "oh my god, it's snowing"

#lexswinterficchallenge #steddie fanfiction #steddie #steddie fanfic #vio writes #wheee just making that deadline lol

[stevespookington]

a snippet for now as I’m still writing this hallmark au for @thefreakandthehair‘s winter prompt challenge

1990. Eddie hasn’t been back to Hawkins since December 1985 and now it’s 1990. He is on “vacation.” AKA his boss told him he either had to write a Christmas album or go home. And well, he’s already tired enough of writing music that doesn’t feel quite right, he sure as hell isn’t going to do that AND try to rhyme things with snow. 

So here he is. It’s 1990 and his plane just landed. Christmas Eve. 

It’s Christmas Eve and his Uncle Wayne is engaged to Claudia Henderson. Something that is still weird to him. Eddie closes his eyes with a sigh, ready for the taxi-ing to be done so he can get the hell off this plane and get ready for his blind date. 

Eddie had graduated in ‘85, still not sure how, but he did. He had hung out for a bit, not as in as much of a rush as he thought he would have been. Hung out with the band, taught Gareth how to DM a game and run a campaign. Met the new freshmen, the new lost lambs. 

And then one day, music came a-calling. Janet, the Hellfire president before him, was visiting her folks over the holidays. She had played with the band on keys before she headed out west for some music school or something. Wherever it was though, Eddie had been messing around on his acoustic guitar at The Hideout and Janet had gotten a snippet of it on her cassette recorder. 

Next thing he knew, he had a letter in the mail with a contract offer. Turned out Janet hadn’t gone out there for school, but had gotten some internship in production and well, she got a promotion to Eddie’s manager. It wasn’t metal, but it was music. And it was a ticket out of Hawkins so he took it. Eddie took and didn’t look back. 

Until now. 

He had stayed in touch via phone, sure. Calling his uncle and answering Gareth’s and Dustin’s questions about D&D. 

But Janet had held out a plane ticket in one hand and a list of rhymes with snow in the other. 

Eddie took the ticket. He really disliked the holiday season. The plane makes a turn, the final stretch to the gate now, and Eddie lets out a sigh. This was definitely going to be a mess. 

#stranger things #steddie #ori's wips #ori writes #lexswinterficchallenge #janet is named after janet and the icebergs #aka siouxsie and the banshees #shes a background character that shows up in some hellfire pics and i love her #i had a different hallmark vibe in mind and then i started working on it and its been ROLLING #i got a lot but need to work on it more #im still not entirely sure where the prompt is coming in other than the vibe of it but uh this means i have a deadline so i gotta get it #done LMAO

[stevethehairington]

i wish i knew how (your eyes are like starlight now)

MacksDramaticShenanigans

“Mistletoe!” Robin cheers, and Steve’s heart stutters so hard in his chest that he thinks it might crack his ribcage and drop right out the bottom of his stomach.

His eyes fly up, and, sure enough, there hangs one of the many sprigs hung all around the apartment. Small and inconspicuous, but unmistakable. That ridiculous little plant has no idea that it’s just turned Steve’s entire world on its axis.

Across from him, Eddie’s eyes are trained up too, big and round and wide where they stick on the mistletoe. His lips are parted in surprise, and Steve can’t help but stare and think am I going to kiss those now?

When Eddie finally tears his gaze from the plant and lets it flicker down to Steve, a pretty pink dusting blooms across the bridge of his nose and spreads into the apples of his cheeks when he finds Steve already looking back.

Steve spares the mistletoe one last quick peek before he takes a deep breath and steels himself. This is it. He sticks his hands on his hips, aiming for casual, and asks, “What do you say, Munson?”

Or, Steve makes a promise, Robin likes to meddle, and the spirit of Christmas strikes (out) again. And again. And again.

(Until it doesn’t.)

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

written for the prompt "how much mistletoe did you put up?" for @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six Winter Prompt Challenge! 🌿🍒

happy holidays friends, enjoy!! 💕

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #LexsWinterFicChallenge #StrangerThingsFestiveFun #steddie fic #stranger things fic #my writing #my fic #macksdramaticshenanigans fics

[kkpwnall]

where's the spark? | 6.4k

It’s been three, almost four weeks since the disaster of the gift exchange party (not that he’s counting), and Steve hasn’t seen or heard from Eddie since. He doesn’t know when he’s coming back, or if he even liked his present. Tonight, there’s a bonfire at the Byers-Hopper’s and Steve’s resigned to sulk play fifth-wheel between two happy couples. That is, until Eddie and the rest of the band arrive… Now he has to play ninth-wheel and somehow deal with the fact that Eddie’s actually wearing the gift Steve got him. But he’s probably just being polite, right?

written for lex's spicy six fic challenge and the prompt 'bonfire'. featuring pouting, pining, and presents.

For maximum ambiance: a bonfire and a playlist

shoutouts to the squad @thefreakandthehair @solosnail @flashyysins @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin. this one really took a village and would not exist without y'all

🔥 [read on ao3] 🔥

#steddie #steve x eddie #steveddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #LexsWinterFicChallenge #StrangerThingsFestiveFun #stranger things steve #stranger things eddie #spicy six #fruity four #corroded coffin #stranger things fic #writing #kk writes #bonfire fic

[jonathanbiers]

share a drink, a look, a kiss

my entry for @thefreakandthehair's winter-themed spicy six fic challenge!

pairing: argyle/steve rating: teen & up chapters: 1/1 words: 3,909 tags: not canon compliant, christmas fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, carnival, friends to lovers, bisexual steve harrington, pansexual argyle, sharing body heat, first kiss, sharing clothes, steve harrington has a crush on argyle “Don’t,” Steve protests, even if the thought of Argyle lending him his jacket makes his stomach do a silly little flip. He’s never been on the receiving end of such a gesture, but all at once he understands why it works so well. “You’re cold, aren’t you?” It’s technically a question, but the look Argyle’s giving him tells Steve he hasn’t been fooled. “I’m fucking freezing, man, but still. I don’t want you to be cold instead.” Argyle rolls his eyes at that, letting out a sigh that forms into a little cloud between them before floating up into the night sky. “Just come here."

#lexswinterficchallenge #they kiss this time i promise for real #im going to take a nap now lmao #* #*fic #*writing #stargyle #steve harrington #argyle

[hexiewrites]

hello i am the latest person to discover the incredible writers block hack that is….. switching your font to comic sans!

🙃 anyways enjoy this lil hallmark AU excerpt reading it hurts my brain and i accidentally made eddie appalachian enjoy!!!

(as always this fic is for @thefreakandthehair ‘s winter prompt challenge! I’m aiming to start posting on the 11th so keep your eyes peeled!)

#steddie #hallmark au #hallmark au tracker #steve harrington #eddie munson #appalachian eddie munson #truly unintended #but i was possessed by the spirit of ria #enjoy!!! #miss communication my beloved #sorry i will add alt text tomorrow!!!! #lexswinterficchallenge

[fragilecapric0rnn]

Prompt: getting unexpectedly snowed in

which has turned into:

words caught in my throat (who talks first?) 

Steve and Eddie get snowed in, together. Emotional constipation and all the things left unsaid also in attendance.

Read on Ao3

The introduction to the Sen Writes Angst era. Writing this was a challenge, but BOY OH BOY am I glad that I ended up pushing through and not turning it into fluff! This beast was a labor of love and I'm very excited to share it with all of you!

The shout out corner:

Thank you Lex (@thefreakandthehair) for putting this fic challenge together AND for teaching me the basics about getting snowed in and what that actually looks like!

KK (@kkpwnall) for also helping me brainstorm in the early stages and ALSO help me figure out the logistics of SnowTM and letting me throw snippets at you and just thank you for the continuous support and encouragement :')

Alex (@gothbat99) for being my beta reader and overall hype-man as I knocked this shit out through gritted teeth (and also gave me the reassurance I needed <;3)

It was a hoot and a holler to write this and I hope you enjoy these boys being idiots and figuring out that talking about your feelings might actually get you somewhere ;)

#recommended listening for maximum hurt: cinnamon girl by lana del rey and tis the damn season by tswift #LexsWinterFicChallenge #steddie #steddie fic #snowed in fic #sen writes #my fic

[henrystars]

I Got a Feeling This Year’s for Me and You

“How the fuck can you hate Christmas?” Eddie pipes up as soon as the bell jingles again, signaling that it’s just the three of them once more.

Steve shrugs again and pushes off the counter. It’s not like it’s a secret, the whole him hating Christmas thing. It’s just. It’s kind of embarrassing, is the thing. Something that always tugs at the back of Steve’s mind whenever it comes up in conversation. He knows he had a fucked up childhood, that his parents were subpar at best, but something about even Christmas being sullied - the so called time of love and family spirit - something about admitting to that has always rubbed him up the wrong way. It had taken Robin almost a full bottle of wine to get it out of him and even then it’d still been hard to say the words out loud.

or; a non au where Eddie helps Steve get into the festive spirit.

written for the prompt “I know you hate the holidays but…” for the winter event hosted by @thefreakandthehair and @unclewaynemunson

#lexswinterficchallenge #strangerthingsfestivefun #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #my fic #fic rec #ao3

[pizzaqueen]

but the fire is so delightful

rated T / 6.6k / holiday fluff

This was written for the spicy six winter challenge run by @thefreakandthehair - thank you so much for putting this together! My prompt was ‘fireplace’ and I got a bit carried away

Tags: Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Cabin Fic, First Kiss, Huddling For Warmth, Fluff, Presents

When Robin and Dustin back out of the trip to Steve’s grandparents’ cabin over Christmas break, Steve’s a little disappointed. But he can’t lie: the idea of spending the weekend alone with Eddie is pretty damn appealing. He’d been hoping to get Eddie away from the others, so he could finally tell him how he feels, and now he’s got the whole weekend to do it.

EXCERPT:

He gets out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition, and hops up the steps to Eddie’s door.

It swings open before Steve gets a chance to knock, and his heart leaps. Eddie’s standing there with a black sweater under his leather jacket, a buffalo plaid scarf looped around his neck, and a black beanie pulled snugly over his head.

Music swells and Steve wonders if maybe he’s asleep, slumped over the counter at Family Video, some cheesy romance film playing on the store’s television. But then he realizes the music is only a Christmas tune, coming from the next trailer over.

Eddie grins. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

They stare at each other that moment too long—the moment that makes Steve hope—and then Eddie’s gaze moves past Steve. “Thought you were picking me up last.”

“I am.”

Eddie’s brow furrows. “Are Buckley and Henderson invisible now, or…”

“They’re not coming.”

“What? Why not?”

Steve sighs, breath misting in the air, and explains what happened.

“I saw Henderson yesterday and he didn’t say anything.”

“And I saw Robin yesterday and she was fine.” Steve shifts his weight. “And her cough was super fake.”

“Something’s afoot.”

“Yeah, they’re being weird.”

“Hm.” Eddie crosses his arms. “Should we investigate the weirdness?”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know, man. I already went by their places—if they don’t wanna come, they don’t wanna come.”

“Well, that just leaves more fun for us.” Eddie winks. “Unless you wanna call the weekend off?”

“No way. I need to get out of here.”

Before Steve can ask if Eddie still wants to go, Eddie says, “Excellent,” picking up a bag and guitar case just inside the door, and slams the door behind him. “Onward,” he says, waving an arm, “to the Harrington cabin!”

READ AT AO3

#steddie #Steve x eddie #Steddie fic #lexswinterficchallenge #steddiedaily #Steddie fanfic #pizzaqueenfic #v nervous about this one but it was so much fun to write!!! #also I’m posting at what might be a weird time idk lol #so reblogs are very much appreciated! (but not expected) 😊