#i just love them so much <3 steve and robin figuring things out...

[fag4dykestobin]

yesterday, i wrote a little snippet of a steve coming out scene that had been living in my head for a bit, and i thought that that was it. and then i kept writing little snippets until this was nearly 3k words long <3 so. enjoy!!

-

Steve looks up at the popcorn ceiling, heart beating, beating, beating, nearly out of… his… chest. Steve doesn’t look at Robin, but… he… knows that Robin is looking at… her?

“Feel like we should be in the bathroom for this,” Steve croaks. Robin huffs out a laugh.

“We can move in there, if you want. My parent’s probably won’t need to use it, they’re in bed already.”

Steve shakes… her…? his. His(/her?) head. “No. I feel better in here.”

“Okay.” And then it’s quiet, between them, and it’s up to Steve to fill that silence. Awesome. Steve can do that. Well, Steve could do that, usually, but unfortunately there is something in Steve’s throat that is blocking everything and anything from coming out of it. Maybe Robin will just let him(/her?) sit here in silence forever, until they both fall asleep, and then when they wake up in the morning they can go along with their lives like there’s nothing building up in Steve’s soul, clawing and raging and desperate to come out.

Robin shifts, so that their feet, propped on the wall in front of them, are touching. It’s enough to get Steve going.

“You know when we were in the Russian base, and you said the thing about your life being one big error?”

Robin made a noise of affirmation.

“Were you talking about, like, being gay?”

Robin sits with the question for a few moments. “... Mostly,” is the answer she decides to go with. Steve waits for her to elaborate.

“I guess it was like, well. Some of it had to do with how we ended up in the Russian base, right? It didn’t feel real. Or like it was supposed to happen. But it also felt like just one more thing in my life that went wrong, and I kinda connect all the bad things that happen to me with me being a lesbian.” There’s a beat of silence. “Which I know isn’t really good. But I’ve been doing it for a while, so it’s hard to stop.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you feel like that? About being, um, half-gay?” The term they’ve landed on for Steve’s sexuality is kind of ridiculous, but neither of them could think of anything better for it. And it’s not like they really refer to it by name outside of hushed and rare conversations like this one. 

“I guess?” Steve thinks on it a little. “Not really. Not like you, at least. It’s, like…” Steve lets himself(/herself?) brush against the problem in his(/her?) brain. Think about it for more than a fleeting moment.

Terror envelopes him(/her?)(cut that shit out pick one and stick to it). Steve tries to think through it, but it’s kind of hard to breathe.

“It’s more about, um. I don’t know. I… It feels stupid.” It feels wrong. It feels criminal.

“I won’t think you’re stupid,” Robin says, so earnestly, like she believes it. Oh, that’s horrible to think about her. Steve screws his eyes shut. Steve screws her eyes shut.

Pick one. (pick he.) And stick to it.

“Sometimes I… mmm. Sometimes I… Robin, if you—” Steve cuts himself off. This feels evil, what he’s about to say. Maybe more evil than what he is. “If I what?” Robin sounds concerned. Like, worried concerned. It makes Steve want to stop everything and wrap her up in a big hug and never talk about this again. Besides, what was Steve even going to say? Robin, if you hate me after this… what? What does he want her to do? Robin, if you hate me after what I say, please don’t.

If Robin hated Steve for this, he might just die.

“Steve? Are you okay?” Robin takes her legs down from the wall and sits up, leans over Steve, trying to get a good look at his face. Steve covers his eyes with his hands.

“I don’t know. I don’t— eugh.” Steve gulps in a big breath, “Robin, if you— hate me, um—”

“No! No no no no no! No! Steve, look at me! Right now!” Steve wants to, but that might make him actually cry. Steve digs her palms into her eyes. No. His palms, his eyes.

God.

“Steve, Evie, please. Please.” The nickname makes Steve’s eyes water. He swipes at them to make them go away, but they keep flowing. Okay, this is going a bit disastrously. The most important thing to do right now is keep his eyes closed and not look at Robin, or else he might shatter into a million little pieces.

“No, I— let me just— I don’t want you to—”

“I won’t hate you, ever. For anything. Are you okay?” Robin sounds miserably anxious. You can’t promise that, Steve wants to bite out. He swallows it. Steve has to trust Robin, because if she can’t, maybe she truly isn’t meant to be like this. Maybe Robin won’t hate him, maybe Robin will help him fix it.

“Sometimes I think about being a girl.”

The words sit heavy between them. Steve kind of wants to throw up about it.

“... Okay.” Robin says. She sounds a little breathless. Steve tries to imagine the look on her face, but can’t imagine it through the fuzz of terror. And like hell will he open his eyes.

“... Okay?” Steve croaks, after Robin fails to elaborate.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” She still has that breathless note in her voice, but it’s more like an aftermath-of-anxiety breathlessness than still-actively-anxious breathlessness.

Steve worries that he’s(.../she’s?) downplayed the problem here. Steve swallows, mouth dry, throat dry.

“No, I, I don’t just think about it, I like thinking about it. I like it when, um, the kids make fun of me by calling me, a, a mom, and I like when you or Max or El paints my nails, and I, I think about stealing your clothes sometimes and it makes me want to kill myself but I can’t, I can’t stop, I…” Steve is now hyperventilating. 

Robin tackles Steve, and Steve’s horrible, traitorous mind wonders if she’ll wrap her hands around his(/her?) throat and kill her(/him?) rather than let him(her?) leave this room.

Steve opens her(/his?) mouth to, who knows, tell her that it’s okay? That he(/she?) understands? That she(/he?) loves her? But nothing comes out, and after a second, Steve realizes that it’s a hug. Obviously. And then Steve starts sobbing.

It takes a few minutes for Steve to stop losing… his? her? God, the thought of either makes Steve want to puke. It takes a few minutes for Steve to stop losing Steve’s mind. And Robin strokes Steve’s hair the whole time, and holds Steve the whole time, and whispers that it’s okay and that she loves Steve, the whole time. It kind of prolongs the sobbing, in a way, because Steve just can’t believe it. But Steve does eventually calm down.

“Steve,” Robin whispers.

Steve sniffles and swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

“It’s fine. You’re fine.”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Well,” says Robin, and then she pauses, like she’s thinking. Steve lets her. There’s a headache brewing in Steve’s temple, and the silence is nice, in a way.

“Well,” Robin starts up again. “I don’t think you’re weird, or messed up, and I definitely don’t hate you. We’ve seen bad things and bad people. And you’re not bad.”

“Well, I… if I’m not bad, or weird, for this, I don’t know what I am.” Steve can hardly believe how well Robin is taking this. It really shouldn’t surprise Steve at all, because Robin is so, so good, but this is something that Steve hates, and they’re usually a united front on that, when it really matters.

So… maybe Robin is right.

Robin climbs off of Steve, lays down next to Steve again. But instead of propping her legs up on the wall, like Steve for some goddamn reason is still doing, she curls next to Steve, facing Steve. Looking at Steve. Still holding Steve’s hands.

“We’ll figure it out.” She squeezes. Steve squeezes right back, and keeps the grip tight.

“Okay.”

They sit in silence, and Steve just… breathes. Tries to will the headache away; not happening, ugh. Drops the legs from the wall. Steve plays with Robin’s fingers, not even trying to process what had happened yet. That can wait til later.

After a few minutes, Robin speaks up again. “Are you okay with questions? If not, that’s fine.” And Steve knows she means it. She will totally drop it for the night and let them settle down and watch a movie or three. But Steve doesn’t really want that right now. Steve wants to stay in this space where, at least for now, what Steve is feeling is fine, and alright. Steve’s never had that before, for this.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “They’re okay.” Maybe they can do the figuring out thing right now. Maybe all of Steve’s problems will be solved tonight. Wouldn’t that be a relief? Robin pulls her hands away, and Steve hears the rasping of her shirt material being rubbed together between her fingers.

“So… do you want to be a girl?” The question doesn’t sound harsh leaving Robin’s mouth, but the words are heavy. It makes alarm bells ring in Steve’s head, forbidden question! Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it! Years of routine repression make it hard for Steve to even consider the question, but Steve tries. Slowly and agonizingly, Steve thinks about it. It genuinely takes a few minutes, but Robin can clearly sense that Steve is thinking about it, so she doesn’t interrupt. Steve loves her so much.

“Kinda,” Steve whispers. “It’s… I don’t know. Really. It’s stupid.”

“Nuh-uh. No stupid stuff right now. Just say how you feel.”

“I kinda wanna be half-girl. Like how I’m half-gay.” It feels stupid. It feels evil. It feels way too indulgent. Even in a perfect world, it’s one or the other. Steve can’t, like, hog them both. They cancel each other out. Right?

“Uh-huh?” Robin is prompting Steve to go on. Oh God.

“Um. Like. I still… like the guy parts of me, you know? I still like being a guy.” That feels really important to emphasize. Steve feels kind of insane, talking like this, actually getting Steve’s thoughts out into the real world. But Robin is still listening, no judgment. It kind of makes Steve want to cry again, but that would make the headache worse so, no thanks. “But I… I like the girl parts, too. I like when you call me Evie, but I don’t want you to stop calling me Steve.”

Steve can feel Robin shift, like she’s nodding. “Okay,” she says again.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. You can… you can be a half-girl, half-guy.” And it sounds simple and a little obscene, when she says it. Maybe not obscene. Maybe more like tantalizing.

“I don’t know,” Steve whispers. “Is that, like… allowed?”

Steve finally turns to look at Robin. Her eyes are big and full of thought. It feels stupid, thinking like that, but there’s nothing else to describe it. Steve can see the thoughts dancing around in her pupils and irises and whatever else is in an eye. It’s so beautiful. Steve loves her so much.

“... I think that you can do whatever you want,” Robin whispers back. “And be whatever you want.”

Steve’s face crumples, just a little bit. Not enough that it means tears, but enough to bring the idea to mind. Steve pinches Steve’s nose. “It can’t be that simple, though.”

Robin tilts her head in a way that can only be described as birdlike. She hates when people compare her to birds, just because of her name, but it fits right now, in the secrecy of Steve’s brain. She looks serious and intent. “Why not?”

“Nobody has ever done this before. I think.”

“Nobody that we know of. We live in Hawkins, Steve, we know like, 500 people. There are probably people in New York, or Chicago, or whatever, that feel exactly like you.”

Steve can’t reconcile with that. It feels so lonely, being like this. It feels inherently lonely.

“And even if you are the only one in the world that feels like this… Well, that’s fine! You can be whoever you want! Especially around me.” Robin grabs Steve’s hands in her own. Her hands are always so cold. Steve loves to hold them and feel them warm up bit by bit. It’s grounding, especially right now.

“I don’t want you to hide yourself. Not from me. I hid for so long, around everyone else, and it was killing me.” Robin’s eyes bore into Steve’s. “And I didn’t know it was killing me, but looking back, it’s like, wow, I was going to die.” Her voice cracks, just a little bit, and Steve makes an involuntary noise. Holds her hands just a little tighter. The warmth is already equalizing between them. “And, I don’t know. I don’t want you to get there. Or, if… you’re there already, I don’t want you getting any further.”

Sometimes it astounds Steve, just how much Robin gets things. This isn’t one of those times, though. It feels deeply right, and deeply sad.

“Alright,” Steve says.

“You won’t hide this from me? After this?”

A shake of the head. “No.” And it sounds so easy, promising this. Maybe it can be easy. Steve hopes it will be easy.

“I love you,” Robin says, and she pulls Steve into a hug. Steve melts into it. Robin gives very bony and kinda twitchy hugs, minute movements every few seconds, and Steve loves them. Robin, a while ago, maybe a couple months after Starcourt, had expressed anxiety about her hugs being ‘godawful uncomfortable,’ her words, but Steve had denied that fiercely. Her hugs were God’s gift to mankind, and if everyone else hated it, fine. More for Steve.

“I love you too,” Steve says into her chest.

They lapse into silence again. Steve thinks about asking for some water, but that would mean one or both of them leaving this room, and all possible configurations seem worse than the lack of water, right now. Steve presses closer into Robin.

“Another question.”

“Yeah?”

“So, you like Steve and Evie, and you’re a girl and a guy. Do you like he and she?”

There’s the dreaded question. Steve can’t hold back a groan. “I don’t know,” Steve says into her chest. “I’ve kinda, thought about it a bit, but… both of them feel weird, by themselves. I guess I like both, but only when they’re next to each other. I can’t really decide on one.”

Robin hums in consideration. “I mean, we’re making all this up as we go. If they don’t feel right by themselves, then why do they have to be by themselves?”

Steve thinks about it. “It feels like they’re supposed to cancel each other out,” Steve says, voicing a thought from earlier.

“They clearly don’t, at least in your case.” Robin presses her cheek to the top of Steve’s head, flattening the hair there. “Don’t think about how things should be. Think about what you want.”

What Steve wants. Okay.

He thinks about he. She thinks about she. And how, apart, they really only feel like half of himself, but together, they feel like they tell the whole story and show the whole picture.

Steve can’t help but think about those optical illusions Dustin had shown her a while back. The one with the two faces. If you concentrated, you see whichever one you wanted at will. And they seemed so opposed, yet so intertwined, and you couldn’t have one face without the other. Maybe he’s an optical illusion. It’s better than being evil.

“Okay. Yeah. Both are good.” Steve can feel Robin smile into her hair.

“Do you want me to use them both?”

Steve feels a flash of panic. “Um— augh. Not… not around other people, um, but—”

Robin squeezes him closer. “Oh, God, obviously!” she says, and Steve is so grateful that they’re on the same page, like, 90% of the time, and that this falls into that 90%. “I can sneak them into conversations between us. Pronouns don’t really pop up in conversations between two people, but maybe if we got a cat or a goldfish or a turtle I could talk to it about you in front of you. Or is that weird? Hm. It might be weird.”

Steve can’t help the smile dawning on her face. Maybe everything will be okay. “It’s kinda weird. But we should do it anyway.”

Robin laughs, and Steve still has his face buried in her chest, so he can feel it. “Yeah,” she says fondly. “I guess that hasn’t stopped us before.”

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #trans steve harrington #genderqueer steve harrington #bigender steve harrington #stranger things #little by little. everyone will believe in my vision of bigender steve #and okay this wasn't really 'edited' or whatever the kids are saying these days but thats fine i'm still proud of this :) #i just love them so much <3 steve and robin figuring things out... #do not know how to write them without having a sappy ending its kinda just inherent in the stobin of it all #anyway ENJOYYYY me and my girlfriend are gonna go out and have a date day :) #quincy.txt #my fics

[unfinishedslurs]

welcome to eden

this is a love letter. inspired by this song

As soon as Steve picks up the phone, she knows she’s making a mistake.

“Rob?”

“No,” she says instead of hanging up like she should. 

“Nancy?” He sounds more alert now, and she can picture him standing up straighter, calling to attention at the sound of her voice. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

“Not really,” she sniffs, hating herself for it. “I—can we talk?”

He’ll say no. He’ll say no, because it’s one in the morning and he was probably asleep before the phone rang and she shouldn’t be asking to talk years after she broke his heart and didn’t even remember—

“Of course,” he says, and Nancy could kick herself. “Over the phone?”

“No. Not over the phone. I’m sorry, it can wait, you can go back to bed.”

She hears him huff a laugh, even though there’s nothing funny about any of it. “I wasn’t in bed,” he assures her. “Am I picking you up?”

Tears spring anew to her eyes. “If that’s okay.”

“Works for me,” he says. “See you soon.”

“See you,” she echoes, and hangs up. 

She spends the time it takes pacing quietly in front of the front door, berating herself for using him like this. But she needs to talk to him, and the sooner it’s over with the better. 

Headlights cut through the window way too soon, and she nearly throws herself out the door. 

She gives him a look when she opens the car door, telling him she knows how many traffic laws he must have broken to get here this quick. He just grins in return, ready to point out the felony in her closet. 

“Where are we going?” He asks, and her heart clenches. He’s so good. He’s so good, and she couldn’t-can’t love him like he wants. She has to tell him. 

Tonight probably wasn’t the best night for this conversation, but her skin feels like it’s peeling off and the faster she says something the quicker it will be over with and she can go back to how it was before. Back when she didn’t have anyone to talk to, because Robin might never speak to her again after she breaks her best friend's heart for the second time. 

Just rip the bandaid off, Nance. 

“I don’t know,” she says instead. Maybe she’s a coward. “A field? Somewhere I can see the stars.”

“I can do that.”

The drive goes by in silence, Nancy staring stubbornly out the window. She can feel Steve periodically checking on her, and she knows he wants to know why she called. She can’t open her mouth to say it in the suffocating enclosure of the car. She rolls down a window. 

They get to a field almost out of Hawkins, and the car is barely in park before she’s climbing out, going around to sit on the hood. Steve cuts the engine and follows. 

She still doesn’t say anything. She called him to have a talk, why can’t she just open her stupid mouth—

“Nancy?” Steve asks, gentle in a way that used to make her melt. She pulls her legs to her chest, feeling vulnerable. “What’s wrong?”

“Jonathan and I broke up,” she finally gets out. 

“Oh shit.” He looks genuinely surprised. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, it was never going to be forever.” Except she’d thought otherwise. She thought they were Nancy and Jonathan, the two of them against the world. She hunches her shoulders. “We never talk anymore, and he was pulling away from me, and he was lying to me for months-“ she shakes her head, clearing the anger she feels at that. “It doesn’t matter. I’m starting to realize there’s things I need to work on, too. A lot to work on, actually.”

“I don’t know what that could be,” he says, flashing her a smile filled with boyish, roguish charm. “You’re already the best person I know.”

She sniffs, and suddenly she’s crying into her knees, shoulders shaking. He freezes beside her, before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. She leans in for a second, chasing the comfort, before remembering what she came here to do and ripping away violently. 

“Fuck,” she whispers. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I don’t—I can’t—this isn’t what I—“

“Hey,” he soothes. “Slow down. Let it out.”

She wipes her eyes, suddenly furious. “I don’t want to date you,” she says, finally looking him in the eyes. “I don’t—I’m sorry for calling you. I just remembered how much better you used to make me feel, but then I realized that’s like…really shitty of me.”

“Why?” He asks, as if Nancy didn’t come out here to break his heart again. “I want to make you feel better. I like knowing I can make you feel better.”

“I don’t want to lead you on,” she says, mouth screwing up. “That’s why I called you out here. And I know it’s shitty of me—“

“Nancy, you’re not leading me on. I…I don’t want to date you either.”

That stops her in her tracks. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he echoes quietly. “I—don’t take this the wrong way, okay, ‘cause I know I’m gonna sound like an asshole saying it, but, uh, I can’t do that again. And even outside of that, I don’t like you that way anymore. Uh, sorry.”

She tries not to sag at the overwhelming relief she feels at that. 

“Are you sure?” She studies him closely, trying to see if he’s saying this for her sake or if he means it. “Back in the Upside-Down, and when we were fighting Venca, it seemed…”

He grimaces, and Nancy thinks if it wasn’t dark she’d see the beginning of an embarrassed flush on his ears. “I…may have been feeling things,” he admits. “I was testing the waters, I guess. I started feeling nostalgic, and you were there, and everyone was encouraging me, and it all just ended up in this weird…feelings soup. Sorry.”

“You said you wanted to have six kids with me,” Nancy reminds him. “And travel the country in a Winnebago.”

He groans, covering his face with his hands. “I am,” he says, “so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. That had to be so weird for you.”

“It was kind of sweet?” She tries, not letting her relief show. Not yet. 

“We haven’t been together in years, and I decided to tell you I used to dream about you having my babies. How do you deal with me?”

“Well it helps to know you were dropped on your head. Puts everything in perspective.”

“Yeah, yeah, yuk it up.” He looks at her, really looks at her, and she tries not to fidget under his gaze. Too earnest, too caring for someone who doesn’t deserve it. He’s always tried so hard. To woo her, to be a better person, to keep back the vicious streak she still sees in him. “I meant it, when I said I loved you,” he tells her gently, no sign of that cruelty that had him painting her as a whore for the whole town to see. “Back then, I mean. I just wanted you to know that.”

She wants to cry. “I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it back.”

“It’s okay,” he says like he means it. He leans back against the windshield, looking at the sky. After a moment, she copies him. 

They watch the stars together, and the air feels clearer. 

“Where do we go from here?” She asks, afraid of the answer. 

“What do you mean?”

“What happens with us now?”

“Well,” he says gingerly, like he’s testing the waters. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve heard you’re a pretty kickass friend.”

Friends. She doesn’t know that she and Steve have ever been friends, not properly. Even after the apologies they made to each other, she doesn’t know that she could call what they had friendship. It wasn’t substantial on its own, needing Jonathan as the barrier between them. When it fell, so did they. 

“I haven’t had a friend in a while,” she admits. “Robin is kind of a novelty for me. She’s amazing.”

It’s funny, in a way. She was so jealous of Robin, of how close she was with Steve in a way Nancy wasn’t. She’d thought, at first, that it was because they were so clearly dating. After Robin told her they weren’t, she realized how badly she’d just wanted friends. She missed hanging out with Steve, missed his laugh and his squint and his bitchy attitude. She’d hoped that eventually they’d get to that point, was sure they were almost there before Starcourt. In a way, she’d been jealous of Robin for stealing Steve. She knew it was ridiculous. Steve had found a friend, a real friend who hadn’t cheated on him or slept with his girlfriend. She couldn’t begrudge him that. 

She just missed him. 

“She is, isn’t she?” Steve grins, but sobers up quickly. “I didn’t really think about that. How lonely you must be, since…”

She’s already shaking her head. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t reach out.” 

“I didn’t exactly reach out either.”

They fall silent again, at a loss for words. Barb’s death, as always, the canyon between them. 

Finally Nancy huffs. “It’s both of our faults,” she declares, “or neither of our faults. I don’t know. I just missed you.”

“Well shit, Nance, I missed you too,” he says, touched. 

“I’ve heard you’re a pretty kickass friend too, you know,” she says, glancing at him. He smiles. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Nancy Wheeler, I would be honored to be friends with you,” he says, and sticks out his hand to shake, like they’re meeting for the first time. 

She stares at him, and starts laughing. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

She shakes his hand. 

Max has always felt like a mirror. One Nancy wanted to smash, pull her out of the shards of her reflective grief and hug. Stroke her hair the way she wanted someone to do for her and say you’ll get through this. So Max could hear it from someone who knows. 

Except Nancy doesn’t know anything. Still drowns in her guilt, the ball and chain dragging her into the depths. She can’t help when she’s still such a mess, three years later. 

Her hands clench when Mike says Max is pulling away from Lucas. She wishes she could look her in the eye and tell her you don’t have to be me. You can be better. 

She’s Mike’s friend. They barely know each other outside of a quick hello as they cross paths or fighting monsters. Max has enough on her plate, she doesn’t need her friend’s weird older sister butting in to tell her how to mourn the right way. 

Nancy just hopes she’s getting out of bed. Remembering to eat. Brushing her teeth. She had more cavities in the year after Barb died than she’d ever had in her life, and she knows Max doesn’t have insurance. 

Now, sitting next to Max’s hospital bed, Nancy wishes she’d reached out. 

With school back comes studying, and with studying comes Eddie Munson, in all his super-senior glory. Nancy is going to get him a diploma if it kills her. 

He laughs when she tells him so. “Shit, Wheeler,” he says. “The day something manages to get you is the day this shithole goes down for good.”

Robin turns down her offer to form a study group. “I’m pretty sure if I joined, I’d just distract Eddie, and let him distract me, and we’d end up throwing things at each other until you killed us. Sorry. Steve’s going to help me study for finals, though!”

She looks at Steve, eyebrow raised. She’s pretty sure it’s fair to be dubious, since she was the reason Steve passed his finals in the first place. 

“I’m her rubber duck,” he says as an explanation, and she nods in understanding. 

Her mom isn’t about to let her study alone with a boy in her room, though, and especially not a boy like Eddie, so she drags him to the library three times a week. He complains, he bitches, he tells her he doesn’t care about his fucking history class anymore. She just hands him a Rubik’s Cube she found to keep his hands busy as she quizzes him. 

Three sessions in, he slowly puts a worksheet down and screams into his hands. 

“Stop that!” She kicks him in the shin. “If you get me kicked out of the library I’m never forgiving you.”

“I can’t do it,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m so fucking stupid, Nancy. I can’t even get past question two. Is this torture? Did I die and go to hell? That would be fitting, wouldn’t it? Doomed to repeat high school for the rest of eternity?”

“Stupid” her ass. She knows what kind of work goes into those campaigns of his, has absently flipped through his annotated fantasy novels and left feeling as if she’d seen the story anew. Plus, she went and made a tape of everyone’s favorite songs, just in case, and she knew damn well how quickly he’d taught himself to play the song he did in the Upside-Down. “Stupid” and “Eddie Munson” don’t belong in the same sentence, much less belong in the same space in his brain. She hates Hawkins High just a little bit more for it. “Stop being dramatic. What are you stuck on?”

“Fucking nothing! I can’t focus, it’s driving me fucking insane. I keep trying, I swear, but it’s like I can’t even read anymore! This always happens, I swear to God it’s killing me more than the fucking demobats ever did.”

“Don’t joke about that,” she snaps. “You’re smart, Eddie, you know that. You just need to try.”

His face twists, and she realizes that was the wrong thing to say. 

“Oh, thank you, Miss Wheeler, why haven’t I thought of that? Sorry for wasting your time, I’ll get out of your perfect hair now—“

“Sit down,” she protests as he gathers up his stuff. “Eddie, I’ll help you work through the problem, okay? Just sit down, please.”

“No, Nancy!” He swings around, eyes wild. “It’s what everyone always says. Just sit still, stop doodling, be quiet, pay attention, try fucking harder…I tried, okay! I’ve been trying, I tried for fifteen fucking years, and I can’t do it! I might as well just drop out and get it over with. I’m fucking sick of this.”

“Okay!” She feels herself getting riled up. “You want to fail so bad, fine! I’m not your keeper, do whatever you want.”

“I will!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

They stare at each other, not moving. Finally Eddie storms off in a huff, flinging open the library door in a grand gesture she pretends not to see. There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she can ignore it. 

She pretends not to notice when he comes slinking back five minutes later, shuffling his feet. 

“Sorry.”

“For what?” She asks primly, going over her notes. 

“Nancy, please.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry too. I’m just…frustrated.”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty frustrating,” he offers. 

“It’s not…”

“It is,” he says, sitting down. “It’s okay. God knows I piss myself off with this shit.”

She studies him, looking over his defeated face like he’s one of her flashcards. “You’re trying your best,” she says, sounding it out. She can’t really make sense of it. After all, trying her best has always been straight A’s, not stopping until she knew everything she needed to and more. 

“It’s not good enough.”

“It will be,” she says. “You’ve got me this time.”

“Listen, I know you’re trying to help—“

“Do you want fries?”

“What?” He blinks at her, shocked, as she starts packing up her things.  

“We’re not getting anywhere today. Sometimes you have to step back, and come back with a clearer head.” Usually she locks her door and cleans her guns, the repetitive motion soothing her mind until she can think again, but she has a feeling that won’t work for Eddie. 

“I usually just give up.”

“I don’t. Get your backpack, we’re going to the diner. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

At the diner, he makes her laugh so hard soda comes out her nose. The next day, they go to the library again. 

After a couple of days, he solves the cube. After three weeks, he nearly kicks her door down rushing to show her the B he got on a test. 

Two months later, he throws his cap into the air and his cane on the ground. Swings her around, both of them laughing. 

“Nancy fucking Wheeler!” He crows. “Achieving the impossible yet again!”

“Eddie, put me down!” She shrieks gleefully as he stumbles. She barely makes it back to solid ground before two more bodies are slamming into them, Steve and Robin whooping in their ears. 

It was weird, to see Steve and Robin effortlessly communicate the way she and Jonathan always had and have it be so unabashedly unromantic. She’d always thought that knowing someone like that was a sign you were meant to be, and they did it while still loudly proclaiming Platonic with a capital P. 

She and Jonathan didn’t do it much anymore. It was like dancing to a song that was always a beat off, syncing for just one moment before stumbling again, unsure that they were still allowed this. 

She’d known him better than anyone, once, and he’d known her the same. Now she wonders if that was ever true. 

“So,” Eddie says, throwing himself onto her bed. “Steve.”

She sits in her desk chair, raising an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“You broke up with Jonathan, right? Are you going to get back with him? I thought you would, but it's been months and neither of you said anything.”

“No,” she says. “No, that’s not what I want. It’s not what either of us want.”

“Really?” He rolls over, eyes searching. “What happened there, anyway? With both your boys. I’m a nosy little asshole, and I wanna hear it from you.”

It makes her laugh, the way he admits to it so freely. He grins wolfishly at her, baring his teeth in a grin. That’s probably why she tells him the truth. 

“I wasn’t okay, when I was with Steve,” she says honestly. “I was distant, grieving…I was a mess, and I stayed with him because I didn’t know what else to do. With Jonathan…I was getting closure, I was healing, and things were good between us. They were so good, but after a while, we just started to…deteriorate. I don’t know if we lost momentum, or if the stress just got to us, but we started fighting more and more,” She traces the desk with a finger, remembering the sour taste of Oliver Twist on her tongue. It was a shitty thing to say. “I thought we’d figured it out, for a little while, but then we just…stopped talking. I think, maybe if we’d talked more, we could have worked it out. But I’m…not upset that we didn’t, you know?”

It’s a different kind of loneliness when your partner won’t talk to you. It was different than grieving, different than not having anyone to talk to at all. Because even when she didn’t have friends, she had Jonathan. And then, slowly, she didn’t anymore. 

“Nancy, you’re one of my best friends, so-”

“Steve is your best friend.”

“Steve is my best best friend,” she agrees. “But he’s also more than that? Like, I think we’re literally soulmates. Platonic with a capital P soulmates, but, like, it feels like more than friendship sometimes? Like sometimes it’s like he can literally feel my bad days even when I haven’t talked to him yet. He told me once he just knows sometimes. It’s like I hit my hip on my desk and he felt it, but emotionally. It’s wild. It’s like the drugs literally combined our minds. Where was I going with this?”

“I don’t know,” she says, slightly bewildered. She wants to ask how they do that, but Robin barrels forward. 

“Right. So outside of mine and Steve’s platonic more-than-friendship, you’re kind of my best friend? And you’re, like, the coolest person I know.”

She blinks. She’s not sure she’s ever been described as cool before. 

After Barb, Nancy tried to cut her own hair. 

Her mom found her in the bathroom, unshed tears in her eyes and hair a mess on the sink and floor. 

She hadn’t laughed, hadn't said oh, honey, your beautiful hair. Just clucked her tongue and took the scissors from her hands. Stepped behind her and took over, took the uneven mess and made it something good, something presentable. 

She didn’t say anything until she was done, setting the scissors on the counter. “Sometimes,” she said, wetting her lips. “Sometimes we need a change, before we can move forward.”

The closer she gets to Emerson, the more she feels like she’s letting someone down. Mike. Max. Jonathan. All the people who have relied on her, all the people who trusted her to fight.

In a strange turn of events, her mom is the only one she doesn’t feel is disappointed in her. Her mom is more excited about college than she is sometimes. Chattering excitedly over dishes about the classes she’s going to take as Nancy dries and smiles and tries not to feel like the ground is being pulled from under her feet.

This is everything she’s ever wanted. Why does it feel so wrong?

She takes Eddie to the gun range, because having a gun in her hands has always made her feel safer. More in control. More like the badass protector she wants to be, than the scared little girl she feels sometimes. 

Eddie stares down the scope of the gun and shoots like he has experience, but doesn’t hit a single bullseye. 

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m in a fucking gun range and a bunch of small town hicks were hunting me not too long ago,” he snaps, taking another shot and missing the target completely. He swears and changes the magazine. “Excuse me if I’m a little bit on edge.” 

She hadn’t really thought of it like that. “You didn’t have to come,” she says. “I just thought with everything that’s happened, you should know how to use one. Just in case.”

“I know how to use a gun,” he rolls his eyes. 

“You know how to shoot one.” She looks from him to the target pointedly. “Not the same thing.”

“Deep. I could really feel the judgement there. Tell me, is there anything else wrong with me?”

“There’s security cameras all over this place. We’re not in Hawkins, so there’s no mob coming after you. I’m here, and I do know how to use a gun. No one is going to hurt you here.”

“I know all that.”

“Do you?”

He scowls at her. She looks back unflinchingly. She’s been here plenty of times, and the guys laughed at her until they didn’t anymore. By the time she brought Eddie, all she got was a raised eyebrow and a “boyfriend?” from Hunter at the desk. She didn’t know what was more incriminating, so she just shrugged. 

“You’re kind of a pain in the ass, you know that?”

She rolls her eyes, taking the gun from his hands and lining up a shot. “I’ve heard worse,” she says, thinking about Nancy Dre-ew, and Nancy “the slut” Wheeler, and priss, and shoots. It hits the bullseye. 

So do her next five shots. 

Eddie looks begrudgingly impressed when she reloads and hands the gun back to him. It’s more satisfying than it should be, to realize that while he’d known she had guns he’s never seen her actually shoot before. 

She raises a challenging eyebrow at him, and he huffs around a smile. “All right, all right,” he says good naturedly. “Let’s try this again.”

He does a little better this time around, now that he’s actually trying. He does a little dance when he hits one of the inner rings. 

“Take that!” He crows. “I bet Steve couldn’t do this. In your face, Harrington!”

“He’s much more of a close-combat kind of guy, isn’t he?” Nancy agrees. 

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” he says. “Does he really have a bat with nails?”

She blinks, caught off guard by the fact that Eddie hadn’t seen it. She never registered that he hadn’t used it during Vecna. Something about the fact seems weird somehow, as if it was as integral to Steve as his coiffed hair. “He keeps it in his trunk.”

“You and Byers need to update your Steve manuals. He said it’s under his bed now.”

“Ah,” Nancy says, thinking of all the times she’s slept with her pistol under her pillow. Empty, because she’s not stupid enough to sleep with a loaded gun when her little brother sometimes wakes her up after a nightmare, but the comforting weight of it alone makes it easier. 

“Just tell me one thing,” he says, widening his eyes imploringly at her. “Did he look as sexy as I think he did? Byers won’t give me a straight answer.”

It’s a joke, but his cheeks are a little pink. She’s not dumb, she’s seen the looks the two of them share, as if he and Steve were circling each other. Caught in a whirlpool, waiting for the moment the vortex would drag them down and they could finally touch. 

The looks between Eddie and Jonathan, too, that share a certain camaraderie she doesn’t entirely understand and at the same time understands all too well. Steve and Jonathan had always had a strange relationship, too close to not be friendship but not quite there. Surprisingly enough it was better after she and Steve broke up, Jonathan no longer avoiding them and the talk she’d forced the three of them into clearing the air. Sometimes, she’d wake up to Jonathan climbing into her bed, smelling of cigarettes and a hint of something stronger, and he’d tell her it was Steve who drove him there. 

She’s a journalist. It’s her job to notice things. She just wasn’t ready to confront that reality, where the two boys she’d wanted wanted each other as well. But she’s grown since then. 

She also knows that whoever Steve chooses, it won’t be easy. 

“You know,” she says, considering, “when we were dating, Steve never pressed me up against the wall or anything you’d expect from the King.”

Eddie gets this look on his face, caught between confusion and caught out. “…okay? Did you want him to do that or something? Are you trying to ask me to hint to him?”

“No,” she says. “I’m just saying, he never did any of that. It was kind of funny. He always made it so that he was the one pressed against the wall.”

Eddie misses the next five shots entirely, and she laughs at him through it all.

She’s hyper aware of touching other girls now. She didn’t used to be. Even with Robin, who is a lesbian and definitely won’t hate her. Who’s probably gone through the same thing. She can’t help it. 

What if they get the wrong idea? What if someone else sees? What if they can tell, what if they know, what if they hate me?

She hates feeling like this. She doesn’t know why it started, doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s no stranger to casual affection—or at least she didn’t used to be. Why does it make her feel so tense now? It’s been years since she realized she liked girls, shouldn’t this have happened back then?

Deep down, she knows why. The Reagan sign in her front yard. Her dad sitting in his chair, the news always on. “Always that nasty disease, Karen, I swear some people are just asking for it.” She’s always known she could never tell him, but now she knows that if she gets sick he’ll say she deserves it. She doesn’t know what her mother thinks. She’s afraid to find out. 

She’s growing up, and her fear is growing with her. 

Objectively, Nancy knows she and Eddie don’t make sense. 

They’re not cut from the same cloth, like Steve and Robin. They don’t calm each other down, like Jonathan and Argyle. They’re too different, too alike in all the wrong ways, for them to get along. They’re both snappy, a little mean. Eddie’s dramatic enough to get on her nerves, and she’s prim enough to get on his. At their worst, they have earth shattering arguments that end in them not speaking to each other for days. 

When people see them walking down the street together, they whisper about “that nice girl Nancy Wheeler” and “that awful Munson boy.”

It’s not fair, never has been. Nancy hasn’t felt nice for a long time, maybe before Barb ever disappeared. Eddie isn’t always particularly nice either, but the court of public opinion takes it to extremes, twists him into something cruel instead of the kindness he carries under his leather armor. Someone to keep their children away from. It really is a shame, because Eddie loves kids in a way Nancy never has. She can see it in the way he interacts with them, his bright smile fading when a parent comes to drag them away. Even when he’s expecting it, his face falls, just for an instant, before spinning around with a grin that won’t reach his eyes. 

Nancy wants to take him out of here. There’s an offer on the tip of her tongue that she knows he’d refuse.

He’s not her brother, but he’s not…unlike one. It’s almost like talking to an older, flashier Mike. He’s annoying, is what he is. He picks at her, keeps pressing over the littlest things. Tries to get under her skin, succeeds, until she’s on the verge of stabbing him with her pencil. Looks triumphant whenever Robin has to grab her arm to drag her away, rambling an excuse about “some girl thing I totally forgot, yeah it’s an emergency,” while Steve drags him the other way to have bro time. 

“She loves it,” she’d heard Eddie crow delightedly once, when Robin didn’t get her out of hearing range fast enough. “Do you see that fire in her eyes?”

“Do I?” She asked Robin. “Love it?”

“I mean, far be it from me to tell you what you do and don’t like,” Robin answered. “But, uh, as far as I can tell, you totally love it. You look like you’re going to rip him to pieces and enjoy it, and he loves that. I didn’t think you’d be this much of a nightmare together, seriously, like, how are you two at each other’s throats one second and then best friends the next? Steve and I have debated locking you in a bathroom until you get along, but we’re kind of afraid you’ll kill each other.”

So no, Nancy and Eddie don’t get along. They’re kind of a nightmare together. They don’t make sense, and they don’t try to. They have other friends, who they get along with better, that they can seek out. 

But when Eddie knocks on her window, the only surprise is that he could even get there. 

“How?” She hisses, opening the window. He tumbles in, doesn’t even try to play off the utter gracelessness he’s displaying. 

“Wowie, I am never doing that again,” he breathes, flat on his back. “You’re going to have to help me down the stairs when I leave, had to leave my cane at the bottom and I cannot get back down that way.”

She doesn’t even want to know what he had to do to get up on her roof with his bad leg. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m but another lover, nothing but an ant in the face of your unwavering beauty, my queen,” he says, batting his eyes at her. The dramatics don’t hit the way he intends, given that he’s stuck on the floor. He holds a hand out pleadingly, and she rolls her eyes, hauling him up until she can get him to her bed. 

“Never mind.” She puts her hands on her hips, a gesture that is so obviously Steve she removes them immediately. From the glint in Eddie’s eyes, he notices.

She tries not to be jealous. She tries, she swears, but…

Three of the four (five? she doesn’t know what Argyle thinks of her) friends she has are dating each other. Two of them dated her, first. She can’t help but wonder, if she’d known that was an option, if everything would have been different. If she wouldn’t have this aching bitterness between her teeth. 

(Nothing would have changed, she knows. She’d been too desperate for other things. Trying so hard with Steve so her best friend didn’t die for nothing. Staying with Jonathan because he understood her more than anyone else, so maybe they didn’t need to talk. It wouldn’t have helped anything. She still wonders.)

It doesn’t matter. What’s past is past, and she needs to move forward. She can’t stop to think about could-have-beens, because thinking about boys is what got her into this mess in the first place. 

She closes her eyes, taking a shaky breath. That’s not fair. None of this is fair. None of it is fucking fair because Nancy stopped caring about fair when Barb died. 

She needs a drink. She needs a nap. She needs to stop feeling like Atlas with the world on her shoulders. 

She doesn’t do any of that. She calls Robin.

“Barb was my first kiss.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Nancy says, and keeps talking, because Barb is dead and Robin is a lesbian and she’s long forgotten what Barb’s favorite chapstick was back then. “We were seven, and I liked it but I didn’t know if I liked her. But I was convinced I was going to marry her, until my mom told me that girls don’t marry other girls. And I knew she liked girls when she died. She told me when we were fifteen, and I didn’t know the word bisexual but I knew I loved her and that was all that mattered. Not—not like that, not romantic, or maybe it was but it doesn’t matter because she was my best friend and I still love her but she’s gone forever. I loved her.”

She feels Robin lay a tentative hand on her back. 

“I had to look her parents in the eye and pretend. All those fucking NDA’s, I had to pretend there was hope. Pretend she was still missing. It was like everyone forgot about her except for me and them, and they sold their house to find their dead daughter and I wasn’t supposed to say anything and Steve kept reminding me about the fucking NDA’s—“

 “Nancy…”

“It’s my fault,” Nancy says, staring at the water. “I lumped in Steve, because it was easier than being alone. He didn’t know her like I did. She was worried about me. She stayed because she cared, and look where that got her.”

“That’s bullshit!” Robin’s eyes are wide, and she waves her hands around as she talks. “If it’s anyones fault, it’s those—those scientist guys experimenting on El! They knew there was a problem, and they tried to cover it up instead of making sure people were safe. You didn’t know it was dangerous. How were you supposed to know it was going to end up as anything other than normal teenage drama? None of this is supposed to be real, you didn’t know—“

“But I left her,” Nancy cuts in. “I left her alone to go lose my virginity to a boy she didn’t even like—“

“He was your boyfriend, it shouldn’t have mattered if she liked him—“

“It doesn’t matter!” Nancy shouts, and Robin falls silent, mouth still moving. “It doesn’t fucking matter how it happened, because it did and now she’s dead and she’s never coming back and it’s all my fault.”

Nancy is sick of crying. Sick of feeling helpless. Sick of not being able to change the past. 

“It’s not just Barb. I took Fred to the trailer park—he didn’t even want to be there, and now he’s dead. Eddie needs a cane, Max is almost completely blind and might never walk again and it was my plan that put them there. My plan that almost killed them. I’m responsible—“

“Fuck that.”

“Robin…”

“No, you listen to me, Nancy Wheeler,” Robin says, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You are one of the most remarkable people I have ever known. Max would have died without that plan. We all would have died. Venca-slash-Henry-slash-One would have won without that plan, and I am not going to sit here and listen to you blame yourself for saving lives. And-and Fred! Venca had already marked him, you know that. You couldn’t have done anything! And Barb is not your fault, okay? I-I-I know I can’t convince you, but I’ll say it as many times as it takes until you start believing it, because it’s true. You didn’t kill her. You didn’t kill anyone.”

“I killed Bruce,” she says, just to prove Robin wrong. And isn’t that shitty of her, to forget about him until she can use him to prove a point? She’s a fucking awful person.

“I don’t know who Bruce is, but given your track record I highly doubt that.”

“I bashed his head in with a fire extinguisher.”

Robin pauses, and Nancy’s stomach sinks. This is it, she thinks. This is what will convince her, this is what will make her see that I’m wrong, that I’m poison-

“What was he doing?”

“What?”

“Bruce. You had to have a reason for it. What was he doing?”

It’s like Robin doesn’t even care that Nancy just admitted to first degree murder. “He was flayed,” she admits, knowing Robin will take it as proof that she’s right.

“That’s not murder, that’s self defense,” Robin says, just like she knew she would. “Also, if he was flayed he was already dead. Sorry, I’m sticking to your side on this.”

“But I’m less torn up about killing my asshole coworker than I am about anything else. How does that not make me a monster?”

“He was already dead, Nancy!” Robin shakes her. “You’re not beating yourself up over it because you know he was already dead, a-a-and I know you’re using him to try and push me away and I won’t let you.”

“Robin…” she says, tears springing to her eyes. She’s so fucking sick of crying. So sick of the way she never seems to stop anymore. 

“Nancy,” Robin says. “None of us are going to leave you. Stop trying to make us.”

She pulls her into a hug, and Nancy sags into it, boneless. 

There, sandwiched between the sky and the water, Nancy starts to feel like she could forgive herself. 

“Nancy,” Steve says, putting a hand on her shoulder and ducking his chin to look her in the eye. “They won’t be alone.”

Tears well up, unbidden, at the way he seems to understand her now in a way he never did before. 

“I want this,” she insists. 

“I know you do,” he says. “Which is why you’re going to go out there, kick ass, and take names. We’ll be here, okay? We’ll keep an eye on them.”

“I know you will.” She swipes a hand across her eyes. “Can you talk to Holly, too? She gets lonely.”

Steve smiles. He’d always loved Holly, when they were dating. He used to braid her hair sometimes. Asked her about her drawings, her TV shows, listened to her talk with the same attentiveness Nancy’s father had never shown any of them. He’ll be a good dad, someday. To someone else’s children.

“I’ll talk to Holly,” he promises. “Does she still like princesses?”

“Ladybugs,” she says. “It’s ladybugs, now.”

“Ladybugs. I can do that. Black and red, and they’re all ladies. What’s not to like?”

“There are male ladybugs.”

“Wait, seriously?”

She laughs, tearfully, but they’re happy tears. Steve wipes them away gently, and she smiles at him to let him know she’s okay. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

“You’re the best person I know, Nancy Wheeler,” he replies, achingly sincere. “You’re gonna have the whole world under your thumb, I just know it. Ever thought of running for President?”

“Can’t be worse than the one we have now,” she says, grimaces as her own joke lands too bitterly to be funny. She sees his jaw tighten before he forces himself to relax. 

“I’d vote for you.”

She grins at him, sharp to punch through the tension she’d made. “I’ll make Eddie my Vice President.”

“Oh, fuck no. You lost me,” he says, and Eddie makes an offended noise from where he’s stealing snacks from the glovebox. Jonathan swats him, and she smiles at him too. He smiles back, tentatively, and wanders to her side. 

“You gonna be okay up there?” He asks quietly. She can hear the guilt in it, still, and she reaches down to squeeze his hand. The one with the scar that matches hers, so their palms line up. It feels full circle, somehow, the three of them together like this. 

“I’ll be okay,” she confirms, and feels the truth of it in her chest. Her boys are here with her, the ones who have been there since the beginning. Eddie’s watching them fondly, munching on a granola bar. Robin is inside somewhere, rambling at her mother. Mike and Holly are probably still bickering over the last cupcake. She loves them so much, all of them. 

“Of course you will,” Steve says. “You’re Nancy fuckin’ Wheeler. Nothing stops you.”

She wants that to be true. She can feel in her bones that it will be. Eighteen has nothing on who she’ll be at thirty. 

She’s Nancy Wheeler, and the world won’t see her coming. 

#welcome to eden au #stranger things fanfic #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #jonathan byers #this is the biggest thing i've posted so far #i ran out of the little fics i'm gonna have to start figuring out how to format the big ones #there's background steve/eddie/jonathan bc this was originally a companion piece to a seperate fic about them #that was 22k before i lost interest #i'll post that one eventually #can you tell nancy is my favorite character. i love u miss survivors guilt <3 #sometimes i think about how nancy has no friends for p much three seasons after barb died and i get very upset #jonathan could count but he also wanted to date her so i'm not counting it #I JUST WANT HER TO HAVE FRIENDS #i also love nancy/eddie friendship they're both judgy bitches #so is steve frankly. nightmare trio #i'm gonna write that ot3 one day (don't hold me to that)

[headkiss]

single thread (pt. 2)

part 1, part 2, part 3

pairing: spider-man!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after the kiss, that string between you and steve seems to get thinner, shorter. you find out some things about him, too.

word count: 7.6k

warnings: spiderman!steve au, a little angst, fluff, injuries (most likely some inaccurate descriptions of them), idiots!!!!

a/n: part two is hereeee!!! thank u guys for all the love on the first one, i hope u guys continue to enjoy this one :,)

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

If it’s even possible, Steve thinks about you more after the kiss.

Kisses don’t usually feel like that. At least, he doesn’t think they do because he can’t remember what any other kiss felt like. You were enough to erase any that happened before you came along.

It was the best kiss he’s ever had and he never should’ve done it. Being friends with you was one thing, but letting his feelings get involved… there’s no turning back from that.

He’s sure that if he said any of this to Robin she'd call him a dingus and tell him to ask you out, but he can’t do it. He can’t.

You wouldn’t know what you’d be getting yourself into. That is, if you’d even want him at all. The injuries he comes home with—more so than what you’ve patched up yourself—the things he’s had to do, all of it.

You’re too soft, too good, for him to weigh you down with it.

He likes you so much, he knows he does. He likes you so much that he doesn’t want to do anything that could end up with you getting hurt or being unhappy. If that means only being your friend, he’ll do it.

He meant it when he said he never hated you, that much is obvious. And he meant it when he kissed you, the way he felt. He felt brave then, he makes himself brave everytime he puts on his suit, but he’s afraid of this. Of being with you fully, letting you know the truth.

It's been days, maybe a week, since he kissed you and neither of you have brought it up. Steve’s been trying to figure out what to say, how to tell you he’s not sorry for kissing you but he can’t do it again.

Today, he’s decided he’s gonna try. He taps his knuckles against your door, all too familiar of an action by now.

“Just a second!” You call. Even just hearing your voice, Steve knows it’ll be hard to have this conversation and sound like he means it.

You open the door, hair pulled away from your face, “hi, Steve.”

“Hey.”

You’re opening the door wider and stepping aside to let him in before he even asks.

Steve’s eyes are as soft as ever, his smile shy, almost nervous. Looking at him, you still can't believe he kissed you, that he opened up with just a few words.

Never hated you.

“Everything okay?” You ask him. It’s early in the afternoon, and if Steve’s knocking on your door, it’s usually late. You wonder why it’s different this time.

“Yeah. Yep. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” nerves bubble in your stomach.

“I kissed you,” the words come out in a rush, like he had to force them out, to bring it up.

“You did.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t said anything about it. I just, um, needed to think about what to say.”

He sounds more serious than he has with you in a while. Since you started bringing him meals and he started to let you in. You twist your hands in front of you.

“I never said anything, either.”

He shakes his head. “I’m really glad to know you, okay? I just think, maybe, being friends works for us, right? And I don’t want to mess that up, so…”

“So we don’t kiss again.” You hope your voice doesn’t show your disappointment.

You like Steve an embarrassing amount, and when he kissed you, your heart expanded in your chest. A balloon filling up with air until, inevitably, it’d pop. Now, he’s letting you down easy and he’s being so gentle about it that it makes you wanna cry even more.

Damn him for being such a good guy.

“Is that okay?”

“Steve, we’re friends. Don’t worry about it. We’re good, promise.”

You mean it. It’s okay, he can’t help the way he feels and even if it’s not what you’d been hoping for, it’s not his fault you got your hopes up. You’d rather be his friend than be nothing at all.

You can squish your crush down, tuck it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist. You can do it because you were doing it before. It’s fine. It has to be.

Steve feels relief wash over him, though it mingles with some sort of worry that even in doing what he thinks is better, he’s still managing to hurt you. Either way, he’s said the words and his decision’s been made.

He can tell you’re biting at the inside of your cheek, a habit of yours he’s noticed. He knows you do it when you’re nervous or upset and his jaw tenses. He steps over to you and hugs you.

Steve rarely hugs you. There was that time when you cooked for him, and that was it. The rarity of the action tells you he means it, it matters. He’s so gentle when he does this time, his arms folding around your shoulders and his chin perching itself on top of your head.

You fall into his hold easily. You think you always will. Your arms go around his waist, cheek pressed against his shirt’s collar. You don’t think you’ve ever hugged a friend like this before.

So softly, quietly. Both of you breathing each other in and hoping the other doesn’t notice, wondering who’s gonna break away first.

Steve tilts his chin to press a kiss against your hair, his lips still against you when he mumbles, “thank you for understanding, honey.”

The pet name reassures you. Nothing has to be different, and you can be okay with that.

“Thanks for being honest. And I’m really glad to know you, too, by the way.”

Reluctantly, you pull back first, looking down at your feet as you do, too scared that your feelings are written all over your face.

“I’ll see you, yeah?” He still sounds nervous, cautious.

“We do live across the hall from each other, so…”

He huffs, it’s a barely-there laugh, but you’ll take it.

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Steve.”

When he leaves and shuts the door behind him, you fall onto your couch, head in your hands and mumbling about how stupid you are, how hopeless.

Steve’s senses can pick up the sound of your voice, the sound of your footsteps, he can pick out some words. Like ‘dummy’ and ‘idiot.’

He mouths the words ‘I’m sorry’ at your door.

He thinks, If whatever he encounters while patrolling tonight doesn’t, Robin’s gonna fucking kill him.

-

Things were awkward for a bit after that. Not enough to make you want to avoid him, though. He’s not someone you can let go of like that. He’s under your skin and he has no idea.

You’re standing outside his door with the dinner you’ve made him once again. You thought that maybe this would help make things feel normal again. Routine and friendly.

He opens the door quickly after you knock, shaking his head with a smile at the dish in your hands. “I told you, you don’t have to cook for me.”

“I told you I like doing it,” you hand him his food, and despite his protesting, he takes it easily.

Steve was relieved to hear you knocking at his door, relieved to see you with those same strands of hair falling around your face, the same shy smile you wear every time you deliver food.

“Do you wanna stay?” He asks.

“I have to go close at work.”

Steve nods. He knows where he’ll be patrolling tonight, at least.

“Okay. Thanks again.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Maybe not to you, but it is to him. Steve doesn’t want you wasting money or energy on him, but he can’t lie and say that it doesn’t feel nice to have someone care about him the way you do. To have someone actually want to take care of him, even in small ways.

He has Robin, of course he does, but it isn’t the same. He’s not sure his feelings for any person have ever been like his feelings for you.

He wants to do something for you for once, and when you go to turn around and leave, he stops you, “hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you let me cook for you sometime? Let me do it for you for once?”

You feel warm, your heart growing in your chest. “I’d like that.”

“Tomorrow work for you?”

“Tomorrow’s great.”

“Okay,” Steve has no idea what he’ll make, and he’ll definitely have to go grocery shopping, probably—reluctantly—call Robin for advice. That doesn’t stop him from feeling a buzz in his chest ‘cause he’ll get to see you. For longer than a couple of minutes this time.

This time, when you turn around, Steve lets you.

Your shift that night is slow and uneventful. Thankfully, so is your walk home. Even after weeks, you’re checking over your shoulder every so often, glancing up at the buildings in search of a superhero you’ve met once. One who probably meets people like you every day, who probably doesn’t even remember you.

Tomorrow comes quickly, and suddenly, you’re worrying about what to wear. Then, after making a mess of your closet, you’re standing in the hallway knocking on Steve’s door all over again.

For once, he didn’t hear you coming, too focused on making sure everything looked right, that he didn’t seem as nervous as he is. When you knock, he hides the cookbook he’d bought that morning in a cupboard before letting you in.

There’s a strand of hair falling over his forehead. That’s what you notice when you first see him. You stop yourself from reaching up and pushing it back.

“Hey, come in,” he moves aside and shuts the door behind you when you walk in.

“Smells good.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!” You aren’t lying, but you would if you had to. If his cooking was awful, you’d probably have two servings to make him feel good about it.

He’s set up plates at the stools by his island in his kitchen. When he notices you looking there he speaks up, “sorry. I don’t have an actual table.”

You shake your head, “don’t be. Neither do I. You know, ‘cause we live in the same apartments.”

“Right, yeah.”

He gestures for you to sit down, and you do. He brings the food over, putting some on both of your plates before sitting down beside you. His knee brushes yours.

He waits for you to take a bite first, searching your face for a reaction.

“Steve, this is really good.”

He makes a mental reminder to thank Robin for the cookbook recommendation later. Right now, he focuses on the brush of his leg against yours, on the way you laugh softly at his jokes, the way your cardigan falls off your shoulder.

Steve’s eyes are on you so much that you swear you can feel it. You don’t even think he realizes that he’s staring, that he’s leaving a blazing trail wherever his eyes go.

When you look at him, you find his gaze easily, eyes meeting, saying things you couldn’t say out loud. You can't help but feel like this is more than just two friends hanging out. If it was, you probably would’ve gotten take out, and you probably wouldn’t be fighting hard to keep your eyes off of his lips. Especially when he talks.

Not a date, you remind yourself. Just friends.

Steve’s an idiot for thinking he can keep himself at a certain distance from you. He’s an idiot for ignoring his feelings and thinking that because he said you should be friends, they’d go away. It’s clear that they won’t.

He forces his eyes away from you and back down to his food, filling the tension with the first question that comes to mind.

“So, where do you work?” He already knows the answer. He’s jumped across buildings to make sure you get there safe and done the same for your walks home.

“Oh, just this small bookstore. It’s pretty quiet, but I like it there.”

“You like to read, then?” He knows this answer too. There’s a very full bookshelf in your living room.

You nod, finishing your bite of food before replying, “love it. Sometimes, when we have extra stock that isn’t selling, my boss lets me take books home for free.”

He can hear the honesty in your voice, the excitement you get when talking about something that makes you happy. He likes the sound more than he should.

Steve’s about to ask you something else when it happens; the hairs on his neck and arms standing, the goosebumps trailing across his skin, the ringing in his ears. Something’s wrong.

You can see the shift in him. His shoulders tensing, his eyebrows scrunching. You have to say his name three times before he hears you.

“Steve?”

His head snaps over to you, “hm?”

“Is everything okay? I lost you just then.”

“It’s fine,” he drops his fork onto his plate, his hands balled into fists. “I just forgot that I have to do something.”

“What?”

“I have to go. I’m so sorry, you can stay, finish your food. But I really have to go, okay?”

The last thing he wants to do is leave you, but he has to.

“Steve, are you sure everything’s okay?” You put a hand on his shoulder but he flinches away.

“It’s alright. I gotta go,” he stands and snatches his backpack on his way out the door, “I’m sorry, honey.”

And he’s gone.

-

You don’t finish your food. You’re stuck staring at the door after Steve leaves. It’s obvious that there's something he isn’t telling you, and you wish it didn’t bug you so much.

By the time you’re able to snap out of it, the food’s grown cold. No, you don’t eat it, but you try to occupy yourself by cleaning up the best you can without snooping through his stuff. You take as long as you can, hoping that maybe he'll come back at some point.

He doesn't.

The short walk back to your place is almost robotic, your mind in a haze, legs moving on auto-pilot.

You’ve always known that Steve hasn’t told you very much about his life. It's been clear in the way he distanced himself from you for so long, in how he likes to ask more questions, let you talk more. Still, you worry that it’s bigger than you ever thought.

You worry that out of all the seemingly impossible things you’ve wondered about what could be happening to him when seeing him injured, one of them is true.

It's worse because you like him so much. You care more than you ever should for someone that you don’t know all that well. You think you knew him best when he kissed you, when he wasn’t talking with his voice at all.

It was unguarded, like something had snapped, frayed enough to let his feelings seep through. You’d like to know him like that again. Just friends.

You sigh and head to your room to change out of the outfit you’d spent so much time choosing. Then, you do your skincare. Your apartment is completely silent, but your head is a roaring mess of noise. You finish up in minutes, though you feel like it's been longer.

It’s too early for you to go to bed, and you know you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you tried, so you head to your living room and sit on the couch, your knees tucked up to your chest.

You grab the remote and switch on the news, needing something to fill up the silence, to drown out your thoughts.

The headline on the bottom of the screen is what you notice first. The mention of Spider-man.

You rest your chin on your knees and stare at the screen, the rushed footage of that red and blue suit swinging across buildings. The screaming in your head of SteveSteveSteve fades to whispers.

You remember the sound of those webs that hold him up, the air that rushed through your hair and against your skin when he swung you home. You remember the feeling of his suit under your hands and the way the white eyes of his mask were expressive despite being fake.

It feels wrong to think about Spider-man as often as you do while wanting to be around Steve so much. It’s just curiosity, you tell yourself. He saved me and I can’t forget about it.

You’ve been subconsciously searching for him all over the place. Your walks home, the front pages of papers at newsstands. You look for his face—mask, really—and you don’t always realize what you're doing.

Still, when the segment about the hero ends, Steve floods back into your mind. Just like he always does.

He’s growing all over you, vines of ivy stringing across your being just a bit more every time you see him. You’ve never really felt that way, never had someone that you wanted to let so close. It hasn’t been long, but he knows you better than most people do.

You huff and get up to grab one of your books. You hope that the words on pages you use to escape so often will work the same way this time.

-

It’s late when Steve gets home, completely dark, completely quiet.

He climbs in through his window and showers like always when he finishes a patrol. He hates how he had been hoping to see you when he walked into his kitchen.

Instead, he sees that you cleaned up a lot of the dishes, that you were kind enough to do that even when he left the way he did. It sends a ping of something he has to ignore to his heart, a squeeze, an ache.

He doesn’t know how he’ll explain himself to you, because he doesn’t want to lie to you, but he can’t tell you the truth, either.

It’s completely fucked. He’s fucked.

-

Steve never really explained himself, and you sort of just accepted that. He’s not obligated to share every bit of his life with you, as much as you want him to. You want to be the person he’s completely himself with.

It’s selfish, and it’s absolutely not going to happen.

Things go back to normal. Well, as normal as they have been since the kiss. Rather than making him dinner, you and Steve take turns and have a meal together once a week. He’s finally convinced you to stop buying extra food just for him.

He’s even made a habit of visiting you at work when things aren’t too busy, and with every passing day, any lingering upset or concerns you had about his hasty exit that day seem to melt away.

He’s human, he has secrets, and you can only hope that they aren’t anything that’s hurting him.

The way that you seem to let things go unanswered with him make your feelings clear. You more than like him, you want to plant yourself on him the way he has on you, to be something to him.

Steve’s been trying again and again to keep himself away from you in a sense. To be platonic and be okay with that, but he’s smart enough to know that the hold you have over him is so much more.

He has no idea how you don’t see it all over him, but he figures it might be for the best. If he can’t hide it, at least you can be blind to it.

Today’s another quiet day at the bookstore. Business seems to be slowing more and more in the independent shop, and though you love the quiet, you’d hate to lose the place. The smell of the books and their pages, the section of used books with enough character to fill the space.

The first eventful part of your day so far has been the phone ringing, and you pick it up quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey,” it’s Steve, just like you’d hoped. “You busy?”

“Not at all.”

“Hungry?”

Somehow, his voice sounds even better over the phone. The crackle of it in the speakers, the way that it’s all you have to focus on since you can’t see him at the moment. It has a bigger presence.

“I could eat,” you say.

“That’s great, ‘cause I already ordered the food.”

“Steeeve.”

He can almost hear the smile in your voice, and if he shuts his eyes tight enough, he can see it, too. The shyness behind it, the way your shoulder will lift to your cheek. It’s cute.

“You don’t mind if I stop by, do you?” He asks, like it’s even a question.

“You’d show up no matter what I said.”

“But…”

“You know I don’t mind. You’ll be my first customer of the day!”

“What an honor,” there’s silence for a moment, and you can hear each other breathing on the other line. “I’ll see you in a few, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

The phone’s hung up with a click.

In the time it takes Steve to walk (swing, but you don’t know that) over, you walk around and tidy up anything that’s out of place. You do this every time he calls to ask if it’s alright that he visits, trying to make the minutes go by faster.

You’re straightening books on the front display table when the bell above the door jingles, and soon after, a wide hand covering your eyes.

“Guess who.”

“Hmmm, let me think. Spider-man?”

You’re clearly joking, but Steve’s stunned. If you listen close enough, you can hear his sharp intake of breath at your reply. She doesn’t know, he convinces himself. She doesn’t know, shake it off.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

Steve takes his hand away from your face and sets the paper takeout bag on the front counter next to the register, the bag crinkling as he opens it.

“Mmm,” you hum, looking at the spread of what he’s brought you. “You’re the best.”

He likes being called the best by you, and he likes the feeling he gets when he hears it. Like he’s someone important, someone good.

“Yeah, well. I’ve gotta make up for all of the meals you’ve made me.”

He always says that, and you always tell him the same things. “You don’t owe me anything, Steve.”

He absolutely does. He owes you so much. For the food you’ve made him, for patching him up and never pushing the subject, for being the person you are and bringing out the person he hasn’t been in a long, long time.

He won’t tell you that, though, so he just shakes his head. “Dig in.”

You do, and so does he, the white, cardboard containers spread across the counter. You talk between bites of food, the easy kind of conversation that isn’t very common, especially for someone like you.

You don’t have people, really. Steve is the someone you do have.

He asks you about the book you have sitting on the counter, and he listens to everything you say like he really cares. You bond over the poor water pressure in your showers, and you laugh at Steve’s impression of your landlord. It’s your favorite kind of lunch break.

Your shifts usually feel slow, but when Steve shows up, time flies by. Before you know it, you’re stacking the empty boxes and tossing them in the garbage.

“Thanks for the food, Steve.”

“‘Course.” He’s about to say something else when it happens again.

The tingling over his skin, the goosebumps spreading all over, his hairs standing up. He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, forgetting that you’re there to see him do it, focusing on his senses and where he has to go.

“Steve?”

Shit. He has to leave again. At least he made it through the meal this time. That’s something.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

“Perfect, yeah. Just, um, a headache.”

You don’t look convinced, but like you so often do, you drop it. Steve doesn’t know why you let him get away with so much, and he feels awful for it. He’ll tell you one day, maybe, when it’s safe. Just not today.

“I have some water, here,” you go to grab it but he stops you.

“That’s okay, honey. I think I’ll just head home.”

“Okay.”

“Have a good rest of your shift, okay?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

He grabs his backpack and heads out the door. You wait for him to be a few steps away and then you peek out the door, eyes following his figure on the sidewalk.

You see him break into a run before turning into an alleyway. You’re confused all over again.

-

Steve really wasn’t expecting it to be so bad this time, especially considering the fact that the sun’s still up.

He’d changed into his suit in that alley you saw him run into, hiding behind a dumpster and swinging off as quick as he could when he was done. He should’ve guessed it’d be serious by how strong his senses came on. Should’ve seen it coming.

He was a little busy thinking about you.

But then he saw what was going on and forced himself to focus. There was a group, maybe five, six people, who'd made some sort of enhanced weapons using electricity, and his superpowers, as great as they are, don’t protect him from the shocks those things could cause.

Not to mention how outnumbered he was. He knew this one could take a while. First, he focused on getting anyone in danger out of there, clearing the area until it was just him, the people with the weapons, and news reporters stupid enough to stay on scene.

He had to be smart for this one, so he used heights to his advantage, staying above them all while tracking them quickly. Steve also made sure they didn’t start heading in the direction of the bookstore, your bookstore.

The first two were easy to get, the ones that fell behind their group. Steve was able to web them up without getting too close.

It gets tougher after that. The others seem smarter, strategic, and he had to be better than them to make it stop. He takes a second to hide from them, closing his eyes and really letting his senses do the work.

When he opens his eyes again, things move in a blur.

He’s flipping and ducking, narrowly avoiding their shots, running harder than he has in a while. It’s the type of day that’ll leave him sore in the morning, he knows that for sure. Before he really processes it, there’s only two guys left to catch.

There’s a wake of broken and burning things behind them, but Steve can’t stop to fix anything until this is taken care of, so he doesn’t even look back.

Just as he tries to web one of them, they shoot at him, and the electric current collides with his web, sending a shock up his arm. A zap so quick, he couldn’t see it coming. He’s distracted from it, his hand shaky and it makes things harder.

After some swinging and punching, he manages to get one guy. In the midst of it, he’s lost the other one. At least, until he feels a spark of pain in his side. The electricity was focused enough to leave a welt on his skin, one he can already feel developing.

He’s too late to avoid the second hit when he spots the guy, ducked behind a dumpster, peeking out like a sniper. The same side is hit, and he knows another mark will prove that.

Steve has to rush around the corner to get out of sight and recover for a moment, a hand—shaking and sweaty in his glove—coming to hover over the burn marks on his suit.

“Fuck,” he breathes. The pain is sharp and hot, the kind that doesn’t go away until it’s taken care of. “Okay. Get the guy, and go. It’s fine.”

He grunts when he stands straight again, another noise escaping him when he shoots a web and swings around the corner back to the alley. The last guy is still by the dumpster, and Steve lets go of his web and lands close enough to knock him off balance.

The guy must panic, because he pulls the trigger on Steve and manages to nick his side a third time. From this close, the current is only amplified. Steve’s knocked to the side, but he manages to stay upright.

Get him, and go home. Do it. He has to push himself, and it has to be enough to finish the job. When he realizes that he’s closer to the bookstore than he was before, he clenches his fists and punches the man hard enough that he falls to the ground.

Steve webs his there, and then he slumps against the wall of the alleyway, his side burning, his breathing short. He has to get home.

He breathes out a deep breath and stands, shooting his first web and gritting his teeth as he goes up with it. He swings by news anchors and finds it in himself to mumble, “fucking idiots,” at them.

By the time he gets inside his apartment via the window, it’s dark outside, and he doesn’t know how long he spent wrangling that group. He’s a mess of panting and sweating, his suit scorched and his skin an ugly color.

He takes a cool shower and throws on a thin shirt and the first pair of sweatpants he finds. He has to sit on his bed for a solid ten minutes to make sure he doesn’t pass out the next time he stands.

But when he does get up, he heads to his door like the absolute idiot he is. He heads into the hall to find you.

-

You stand up quick enough to get a head rush when he knocks on your door. You know it’s him, that’s not the question going through your head. No, you’re wondering if he’s okay.

Your heart’s already racing when you open the door. It gets quicker when you see him.

“Steve?” Your eyes flicker all over his face, searching for blood or bruising. Anything at all. “You okay?”

Steve’s eyes are bloodshot, his forehead damp with sweat and the droplets of water falling from his hair. Even so, all he tells you is: “I just wanted to make sure you-” his face scrunches, he pants between his words “-you got home okay.”

“I’m good. I’m alright,” you say, though it’s obvious since you’re standing right in front of him. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.” He holds up his arm in a weak thumbs up and winces with the movement. You aren’t fooled in the slightest.

“No, you’re not. Get inside and let me help you.”

“Honey-”

You grab his hand gently, your fingers wrapped around his. You can feel him shaking as you tug him inside and shut the door. “Come on.”

He doesn’t really have it in him to argue with you, and as much as he shouldn’t, he wants to be around you, to hurt less because of your comfort and your soft touch.

Steve lets you lead him into your bathroom once more, watches as you bend down to grab the first-aid kit from the cabinet under your sink. He still has the bandages you gave him, and he’s lucky he won’t need them now since he’s not bleeding. He didn’t bring them with him.

You guide him to stand in front of the counter where the light is best and reach for his face, your hands holding his cheeks and tilting him down to you. His hands grasp your wrists, like an instinct.

There’s guilt in his eyes that you try to ignore. A frown tugs between your brows, at the corners of your lips.

“You look a little pale. What happened?”

“I can’t- I can’t tell you that right now.”

You push his hair away from his forehead before pulling your hands away. You bite the inside of your cheek and nod. You’re more worried about him right now; you can worry about whatever happened later.

Steve goes to lean against the counter. He grunts when his back hits it, his hand covering his side in reflex. You catch it.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Wha-”

“You’re hurt, Steve. I can tell. Let me see it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Stop saying that and let me see. Please.”

He blows out a slow breath and reaches for the hem of his shirt, because he knows you won’t let it go until he shows you. Taking his shirt off is uncomfortable, and he makes quiet sounds to prove it. He keeps his eyes cast onto the floor when he tosses his shirt aside.

You look down slowly, your eyes passing down his neck and chest first, then lingering on his stomach for a second too long. You’d never expect him to be built the way he is, lines of muscle under his skin.

You can’t focus on that for long, not when you notice the three welts on his side. There’s already bruising, shades of purple and green spreading, outlined in redness.

You swear you can feel something crack in your chest, the sadness that seeps into your eyes in the form of tears along your waterline. “Oh my god.”

He hates the way your voice sounds, the way your expression shows how worried you are for him. He hates that someone like you is so concerned about him.

“It looks worse than it is.”

“Steve.”

You kneel on the tiles in front of him to get a closer look. Your hands hover over the marks, too afraid to touch him, too afraid to hurt him even more.

Steve’s shaky hands grab yours, squeezing your fingers like he’s reminding you he’s okay, he’s alive enough to do that. You don’t look at his face, but he can’t look away from yours.

“What can I do to help?” You ask.

“You’re doing more than enough,” he says quietly, his voice a low hum in the air. “They’ll go away.”

Who could possibly be hurting him? This boy with soft eyes and a kindness even the highest of walls couldn’t keep hidden.

“I’m so sorry, Steve.”

You lean forward and peck the skin of his stomach, just beside the bruises. You’re not thinking about the consequences when you do it, you’re only thinking about how much pain he must keep hidden from everyone. About how much you’d do to make it go away.

Steve doesn’t know whether to cry or kiss you stupid for it. He settles on tugging you up to stand with his grip on your hands and leaning his forehead against yours. He’s not thinking about the consequences, either.

“Don’t you dare be sorry. Not you.”

“You’re hurting.”

“And you have nothing to do with that. If anything, you do the opposite.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stop any tears from escaping.

“Will you stay for a bit?”

No, there’s absolutely no thinking about the consequences when you’re this close, when your hands are in his. There’s no thinking when Steve agrees.

“Yeah, honey. I’ll stay.”

You nod and breathe in, catching the scent of his body wash, and pull away. You have to force yourself to let go of him and move out of his way so he can put his shirt back on.

Steve has to stop himself from reaching for you when you step away. Instead, he tries not to wince again when he picks up his shirt and pulls it on.

He follows you out into the living room, sits beside you on the couch and leaves distance between you. He observes you as you pick out a movie to put on, thanks you when you toss him a blanket.

He feels warm all over at the way you seem to take care of him without thinking. It spreads from his chest and expands and expands and expands until it’s everywhere from his head to his toes.

-

Somehow, you end up with Steve’s head in your lap.

The inches separating you and him on the couch grew shorter and shorter as you spoke until your thighs touched. You both acted like you didn’t notice.

Then, the further you got into the movie, the quieter you both became. So quiet that you hadn’t noticed how tired Steve was until you felt his head drop against your shoulder. You were barely able to smile at the action before he jerked himself upright.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re tired.”

“You must be, too.”

You shake your head, “not really. You should lay down.”

“I can just go,” he said, like that’s what you’d prefer.

“I’ve got a comfy lap, promise.”

Steve blames his tiredness and the haze of it all for agreeing and laying on his side, his cheek against the top of your thigh.

He’d never say it out loud, but he does feel really comfortable in the moment. He almost forgets about the bruising on his side. It takes a lot for him not to wrap his arms around you then.

“You can sleep if you want to,” you say, noticing the way his eyes blink heavily.

“Then you’ll be stuck here.”

That wouldn’t be so bad, you think. “I’ll go to bed when I want to. I’ll be sneaky, you won’t even notice.”

“As long as you wake me up if you have to.”

“Sure I will.”

Steve knows you absolutely won’t—he knows you’d rather fall asleep where you’re sitting and risk a sore neck than disturb him, because that’s who you are—but he doesn’t call you on it. Instead, he shuts his eyes and lets the comfort of your apartment, of you, put him to sleep.

You look down at him after a bit, and you notice his even breaths, the pout on his mouth as he sleeps. Softly, you run your fingers through his hair, pulling apart the tangles gently.

Without thinking, you keep doing it until the movie ends. You still aren’t tired, and you really don’t want to wake him up, so you grab your remote and switch it to the news.

They’re talking about Spider-man, you realize. They talk about him a lot.

“Today, a group of criminals with illegally enhanced weapons were taken down by none other than our city’s masked hero, Spider-man.”

The anchor talks in that classic news lady voice, one that would usually have you turning down the volume, but where Spider-man’s involved, you’re inclined to listen.

“We have some witness clips here, where you can see him in action.”

The screen switches to show a video that was taken on a bystander’s phone, the footage shaky, the witness dumb enough to stand there and film rather than run.

You can see Spider-man fighting someone, can see the quick flashes of webbing as well as the opponent’s weapon shooting. You can see how quick he is, the way his reflexes work. You think about what it was like to see it with your own eyes.

Then, it cuts to a new video, where he seems to be swinging away from the scene, but towards the camera. The anchor says something that makes your ears ring.

“It looks like there are some burn marks on his suit where Spider-man was hit. Three on his side, I’m being told.”

Three marks. On his side.

It has to be a coincidence that Steve showed up to your door after the whole Spider-man thing had happened with the exact same injuries, right?

Then, what if it isn’t? What if this is why he’s been getting hurt all this time?

You think about every interaction with Steve you’ve had. The day you met, when he carried your boxes without breaking a sweat. The way he tried so hard to isolate himself from you, the lack of details he shares about his life. The injuries he’s come to you with, the scars you’ve noticed but haven’t mentioned.

And most recently, the way he’s left in a hurry after zoning out for a minute.

You think your heartbeat might be loud enough to wake Steve up.

Steve.

You look down at his face, at the delicate skin under his eyes, at the way his eyelashes rest there in his sleep. You look down at this boy, asleep in your lap, and realize that he’s carrying all that weight by himself.

If you’re right about this, about him being Spider-man, you think he deserves even more than what you give him. More than the dinners and the company, more than the friendship. He deserves to be hugged, to be told how strong he is.

Fuck, you need to thank him, if you’re right. Because he’s the one who saved you, the one who brought you home and made sure you got inside, the one who reminded you to take care of your wrist.

Holy shit. That realization makes your head spin.

“Who are you, Steve?” You whisper. He can’t hear you, he’s fast asleep, but you ask anyway.

When you finally manage to lift his head from your lap and get up, shutting off the TV as you do, you head to your bedroom. You lay on your back on top of your sheets and stare at the ceiling.

You don’t sleep very much that night.

-

Cooking has become something to do to keep you busy, to take your mind off things. So, when you’re sure you’re not getting any more sleep, it feels natural to head to the kitchen and start making breakfast.

You move about your small kitchen as quietly as you can, the presence of the boy asleep on your couch something hard to ignore. The boy you’re pretty sure is Spider-man, the boy you more than like.

Despite Steve’s enhanced hearing, he doesn’t wake up due to any noise. No, for the first time in a long time, he blinks his eyes open slowly and lets the sunlight seeping through the window get him up. He stretches before standing up from your couch.

There’s a stiff ache in his side, which isn’t surprising, but it still has him cursing under his breath at the reminder of yesterday.

His voice makes you peek over your shoulder at him. “Good morning.”

Steve rubs his eyes and looks over at you standing by the stove. He has to rub them again to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

He walks over and leans against the counter next to where you cook. “Hi. Thanks for letting me stay.”

You give him a quick smile, a sunbeam.

You’ve decided to try and act normal with him, act like you don’t know this huge piece of information. He deserves the space to tell you in his own time. That is, if he’ll ever tell you at all.

“Yeah. You feel okay?”

“Bit sore. It’ll go away.”

“I doubt my cheap couch helped with that.”

“It helped.”

He sounds so sure about that, like it was the best sleep he could’ve gotten.

“Are you hungry?” You ask. You’ve already cooked enough for him, too.

“I don’t want to overstay or anything.”

“Steve, I’m offering. I’d like it if you stayed for breakfast.”

His stomach growls before he’s able to reply. You both laugh softly, you amused, him embarrassed. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Steve acts the same as he usually does as you eat, keeping conversations steered towards you, pretending like there aren’t bruises under his shirt as you speak. He seems to forget the powers that he has, the persona that’s a kept secret.

He wants to thank you over and over, to apologize to you over and over, to tell you all of the things he swore he couldn’t feel for you. He wants to tell you so much, but he’s scared—not nearly as brave as he is when he has his mask on—and he can’t get anything out.

Steve just wishes he could put into words exactly what you do for him, how unfair he knows it is to ask of you, how much it means that you help him regardless.

Instead of doing any of that, he eats the food you cook and shares more smiles with you than he does with anyone.

You watch as he takes his empty plate and rinses it off for you, the way his t-shirt is a bit tighter across his upper back, the set of his shoulders. Those shoulders that carry so much all by himself.

You’re frowning before you can help it. Not because he hasn’t told you, you can understand that, but because he must be so convinced that he’s better off doing it all alone.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You cook too many meals for me.” He lingers by your door, rocking on his feet like he’s not sure where to go.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Steve’s expression shifts in the smallest way when you ask. He can’t wrap his head around someone caring about him—besides Robin—to ask so often.

“I’m okay.”

Before you can really think about it you walk up to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You squeeze him as tight as you can while being mindful not to hurt him. Your face is tucked into the side of his neck, and he can feel your lips on his skin.

His arms seem to move before he’s aware of it, hugging you back around your waist, squeezing you just as tight. He needed this, he thinks, and somehow, you knew he did.

“I really care about you, Steve.”

He rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, shutting his eyes to try and capture how it feels to be held by you, to hold you.

“Me too, honey.”

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

thank u for reading!! if u enjoyed, please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think!!! it helps more than you’d think <3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington story #steve harrington requests #steve harrington request #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington fanfiction #steve x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #spiderman!steve #spidey!steve #spiderman!steve au #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things steve #stranger things fanfic #steve stranger things #steve harrington au

[hellfireclubmember]

Pretty Girl

a/n: Okay, I haven't written a legit fanfic in years so I'm so nervous publishing this. Any feedback would be appreciated. Also I was thinking of making a part 2, lmk if any one would like me to

warnings: none, just fluff, maybe annoying mutual pining. also probably a few mistakes. I didn't thoroughly proof read this

word count: 1.9k

summary: Dustin can't stop talking about the sub he got to fill in for Lucas, making Steve want to smash his head into a wall. That is, of course, until he sees you.

PART 2 HERE PART 3 HERE

disclaimer: reader is 18 and a senior in high school

Steve was losing his mind. He loved Dustin Henderson as if he were his little brother, but he might just strangle him at this very moment. First, he would not stop talking about Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson and now he won’t shut up about the substitute they had to bring into their little nerd club to play their little nerd game.

“… she’s just so cool! She had no idea how to play, Mike and I gave her a quick lesson before the session and then she goes and lands a crit hit on the most powerful dark wizard of all time!” Dustin was so impressed he couldn’t see that Steve wasn’t even really paying attention anymore, choosing to stack the new releases in alphabetical order instead. “She’s so pretty too” Dustin sighed “and nice.”

“Is Dustin still talking about that girl he forced to play Dungeons and Dragons?” In walked Robin from the back room. She sat down behind the counter. “Hasn’t stopped.” Were the first words Steve had said in the last twelve minutes.

“I did not force her!”

Dustin had found you sitting alone at the very back of the library whilst writing an essay for your English class. You were one of the maybe four students that were in there. Most of your peers excited for the basketball game that day after school. Dustin had realized he had seen you before and almost all the times he had seen you, you were alone. The boy figured asking you would be a win-win; this way you could maybe gain some more friends and he wouldn’t have to die. He rushed towards you, rambling about hellfire and getting his ass kicked by Eddie before he knew it you were agreeing to help. In all honesty, it wasn’t very easy for you to agree. Your stomach twisting at the thought of being in a room full of people you didn’t know but saying no to this boy somehow seemed worse; like killing a unicorn or something.

After agreeing, Mike and Dustin sat with you in the library and helped you create a character sheet, explaining the basics of DND in the short period of time before the session. You were never really expecting to have fun. In fact, you were fully expecting for your character to die immediately. When she didn’t you started to pay more attention. The excitement around you fueling your own. It was nice to be a part of something, surrounded by people that loved something so much made you feel warm and happy. You had never felt so at ease, comfortable doing something out of your comfort zone.

“Yeah? So, cornering (y/n) in the school library the way Steve does every female customer was the ethical thing to do?” Robin said.

“Dude! I don’t corner anyone.” Steve looked up indignantly from the VHS tapes at Robin.

Robin rolled her eyes and continued her scolding. “You know she was gonna say yes, she’s the nicest person I know. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say the word no.”

Steve was listening to them argue about whether Dustin dragged you to the nerd meeting or not when he heard the door to the video store open. His eyes landed on you walking through the door. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen walking into the fluorescent lit store. Lips parted as you tried catching your breath from the bike ride there. Steve felt like he forgot how to act like a human being, not even being able to execute his usual greeting or offer a charming smile. He watched you look around the store. Pretty eyes scanning until they landed on something behind Steve. You raised your hand to give a small wave. A wave he almost returned had Dustin not spoken up.

“(y/n). hey!” Dustin said as he walked over to the front of the register, right beside Steve. He had his eyes fixed on you, stare unwavering as you made your way toward Dustin and himself. Your eyes flicked over to Steve, acknowledging him with the cutest smile he had ever seen. Steve was never this awestruck by something as simple as a smile but he wished he could tattoo your smile to the inside of his eyelids so he could never forget it.

“Hi (y/n).” Robin was the next person to greet you.

“Hi Robin, I didn’t know you worked here.” He finally heard you speak and Steve never thought a voice could be so sweet.

“You know me, never one to brag.” A small giggle escaped your lips and if he thought your voice was sweet your laugh was like cotton candy; soft and pillowy. He couldn’t help but want to make you laugh for the rest of his life. Robin watched Steve look at you with the dumbest look she’s ever seen on his face, which is saying a lot. She genuinely had to bite back a laugh. “You know the hair, right?” Robin nodded her head towards Steve. That was his queue he had to get rid of the heart eyes and turn on the charm. You looked up at him which is when it finally clicked. He recognized you from his time at Hawkins High. Remembered you walking the halls alone with your head down most of the time. He never thought too much about you back then, which right now he regretted greatly, distracted with his douchebag friends and his relationship with Nancy to ever really notice most people.

“Yeah, I remember Steve.” You nodded your head. “Hello.” The hint of another smile on your lips. He so desperately had to hold himself back from hugging you. He wanted to be close to you, to hold you. Steve really didn’t understand what had gotten over him. Sure, he had liked girls before but being this whipped so immediately was definitely new to him.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He tried licking moisture back onto his lips, but his mouth was dry. He leaned back onto the counter and smiled. Trying his best to be as smooth as possible. He didn’t want to look at Robin or Dustin, mostly because that meant having to look away from you but also because he knew the look on their faces right now would be one of disgust.

The skin on your face started feeling incredibly warm. You had never spoken to Steve when he was in school, to be fair you hadn’t spoken to many people but speaking to King Steve seemed an impossible task. He was like art at the museums you liked to frequent, beautiful but untouchable.  

Dustin removed his gaze from Steve whilst shaking his head and placed it back on you. “What are you doing here?” He asked. Right, you came here for something. What was that something? The brief interaction with Steve was enough to make you slightly lightheaded. You started nipping at the inside of cheek, rummaging through your head.

“Oh, I accidentally took your DND notebook yesterday. It said return if found and then your address was inside, which by the way I think is an awful idea. There are weird people out there, Dustin. You have to be more careful.” Steve and Dustin making eye contact, both thinking about the irony of telling Dustin to be safe. You reached for his notebook inside your messenger bag. “When I got to your house your mom said you might be here.” You took a few steps, offering him his journal. Now close enough to be able to smell Steve’s cologne, your gaze drifted for a second up to his face and he was looking down at you. The second your eyes met, he smiled, making you look away abruptly. He was making you way more nervous than usual. Your hands were getting clammy, and your breath was a little shaky. Steve Harrington was so beautiful. You always knew this but you had never had the honor of being this close to him.

“Dude, this is like the second time you’ve saved my life!” Dustin grabbed the notebook with a wide smile. You let out a small laugh. This kid’s smile was infectious, no matter the situation, if Dustin smiled you smiled. Those are the rules.

“Trying my best.” You closed your bag whilst taking a few steps back. Trying to make some distance between you and Steve, hoping to any God he couldn’t see your shaky hands. “Right. I’ll just get going then.” As the words left your mouth Steve started to panic. He can’t just let you leave. He had only said two words to you. His brain going on over drive trying to think of ways to get you to stay even a little longer. He looked outside at your bike and then at the dark clouds in the sky. It was definitely going to start raining soon.

“Wait!” He said this a little louder than anticipated. He cleared his throat as you turned your head to look at him. He smiled softly as he looks at your eyes again. He thinks he could look at your eyes all day. “You just got here; you should hang around with us. It’s for sure going to start raining soon. I can’t let a pretty girl get caught riding her bike in the rain.” Dustin snickered and Steve elbowed his shoulder immediately to get him to shut up. The taller boy watched as your eyes widened slightly at the use of the word pretty. You were so cute it was driving him crazy.

“Yeah, dingus is right. You should stay, besides tonight’s movie night. You can join us at Steve’s house. We’re gonna pig out on junk and watch horror movies. Steve is going to drive us all home after, he’s our trusty chauffeur.” Steve looked at Robin as she spoke, and he swears he could’ve planted a kiss on her forehead right then and there. Robin looked at him for a second with a small smirk on her face.

You fiddled with the strap of your bag as you thought about it. It would really suck to be caught in the rain, besides this could be fun right? You said yes to DND and that was fun. Doing things you wouldn’t normally do seemed to be working for you so why stop now? Of course, this had nothing to do with the way your heart raced when Steve looked at you or the way you really wanted to be in his presence longer or how pink and shiny his lips looked or how you wondered what his hand would feel like holding your hand.

“I would really like that.” You smiled at Robin and then turned to look at Steve. “If that’s okay with all of you.” This was directed more at Steve than it was to Dustin. There was a moment of silence as Steve stared at your pretty face, a smile adorning his features making him look like a lovesick puppy. It was Dustin’s turn to elbow the idiot to his left. That was enough to break the trance.

“Of course it’s okay with us. Right Dustin?” He glared at the boy that just assaulted him.

Dustin nodded his head. “It’d be an honor to have you at our movie night, (y/n).” Steve reached over to pat his younger friend on the shoulder.

“It’s set then.” He said, more excited for it to reach closing time than he has ever been.

#stranger things fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader

[supermarketbae]

Hello!

Could you do a cute Billy Hargrove x fem reader were they are secretly dating and the party are slowly figuring it out. Like max is confused why Billy is being a lot nicer. Eddie, Steve, and robin wants to know who keeps calling reader when they hangout at her house.

You can write the end however you like! Love your writing! Have a great day!

OMGGGG THANK U SO MUCH LOVE!! (also i'm back taking class courses again so sorry if I've responded late. bAcK To SchOOl FolKs *nerdy goth noises* this can be read as a part three but its fine on its own.

Billy Hargrove x fem reader

What's Best?

Naughty and not so nice the series

The sun had just set, leafless trees casting long shadows around the warm room as their spindly woven branches wafted softly against the windows a sound accompanied by joking and stupid dares. Your friends were oblivious to the sun starting to sink below the horizon. Everyone was happy to finally find some time to hang out together. How late it was getting was a small, trivial matter that was forgotten in the spirit of laughter and much needed relaxation. Max was thoroughly appalled when Billy made no objection in bringing her along to your house, and you thought she had keeled over when, instead of leaving he walked right in with her.

Robin glanced at you questioningly through the night. But you paid it no mind. Billy was starting to be roped into your little group of misfits, and there was nothing you would rather have more. "Soooo what's this talk I hear of my little baby having a boyfriend?" Eddie drawls smacking your butt playfully as he grabs a coke from the counter "Never thought you'd have it in you doll." he continues smirking sarcastically. Your heart shudders for a beat as you subtlety make eye contact at Billy from across the room, you scowl gently as you see his shoulders shaking in silent laughter "Bitch." you say pointedly turning back to Eddie to slug him in the shoulder.

"Wonder who he is, since you practically skip when the phone rings." Eddie smiles grabbing at your hair musing it up. "I do not!" you say wide eyed a light blush settling on your cheeks. You don't dare to look at Billy again to see his reaction. But to your relief, your embarrassment falls on deaf ears as the others continue enjoying themselves. You lean back on the counter as you watch the sight before you; Nancy and Robin talking together on the couch, Robin blushing lightly as she talks animatedly, Nancy grabbing her arm. Dustin, Mike, El, Will, and Max geeking out about some intricate thing. You find yourself smiling softly, blissfully unaware of Billy's approach behind you, that is until strong arms wrapped discreetly around your waist.

"What's up doll." his gravelly mumble tore at your chest causing your heart to constrict. "Nothing much, handsome," you whisper back voiced honeyed but still drooping low. "hands to yourself while you're at it too." you chide teasingly, pinching lovingly at his forearm. Your giggle echoes louder when Billy nips at your shoulder. The sound traveled sharply, catching the attention of your observant friend, Max glances up briefly surprised at the sight of you. She cocked her head in elegant confusion noticing Billy's usually scowling face in a radiant grin. Even more so that he was that close to you.

You caught her eye. A silent promise lay in them.

A soft smile.

She wanted what was best for him too.

And as she watched his face crinkle in laughter as you kissed his cheek secretively, she knew that you were, inevitably, what was best.

--------------------------------<3----------------------------------------

AHHHHHHH im sososososoossoso sorry i started up classes and OMLLLLL @unamused-boss thank you so much for requesting and I hope this brought your idea justice mllll thank you darlingggg

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x female!reader #stranger things billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x you #billy stranger things #billy hargrove drabble #billy my beloved #billy hargrove headcanon

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 10

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Ao3

[Warning for reference to sexual activities, fairly brief]

-

Robin watches Steve walk past the “Action” section with an armful of Schwarzenegger films three times before she says anything.

“You’re distracted today.”

“Hm?” Steve looks up at her, snapping out of whatever vacant thought he’d slipped away into and entirely proving her point. “Sorry, what?”

“Distracted. You.” Robin points down the correct aisle. “The Terminator and his ilk go down there.”

Steve shakes his head. “Right, sorry.”

Following him over, Robin leans against the end of the shelf while Steve sorts through cases that Robin knows have already been organized. “So what’s got your head in the clouds?”

Steve is quiet for a moment longer. He doesn’t seem unhappy – he seems lighter, actually. He’s not in the same weirdly good mood he’s been in for the last week, but he’s a little more settled, so whatever it is, Robin figures it can’t be bad.

Finally, he glances around the store (it’s empty; Sunday nights hardly even require two employees once the afternoon rush has died out, but Robin won’t complain about being paid to sit around and do nothing for a while), and then says, “Eddie and I are dating. Like, for real this time. I think.”

The words come out in a bit of a rush, and it takes Robin a moment to decide that, yes, she’d heard them correctly.

“Excuse me?”

Her tone is exactly as pointed as she’d meant it to be, if the way Steve winces at the question is any indication.

“The last you told me, you two were ‘talking about it’ and ‘taking it slow.’” Air quotes are heavily employed to illustrate Robin’s new skepticism.

“And we were!” Steve says quickly.

“That was, like, two weeks ago, Steve!” Robin says. “That is not slow!”

“Well it’s not like we just jumped into it! We did talk, and we went on a couple of dates–”

“What? When? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“I mean, the first was last weekend, so–”

Robin gasps, jabbing a finger at Steve. “You lied to me!”

“I did not,” Steve insists, pointing a finger right back at her, though it doesn’t have quite the same effect with one arm still full of clunky plastic cases.

“You did! You asked me to take your shift because, and I quote, you were going to do something for yourself,” Robin shoots back.

“And I did! I gave myself the chance to see where this thing with Eddie was going,” Steve says.

“Or, you gave yourself the chance to fall right back into the same pattern that hurt you before,” Robin says.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s different this time,” he says, more quietly.

“How?” Robin demands. “Because ‘dating for real this time, I think,’ doesn’t sound that different.”

“I mean, we didn’t say the word dating, exactly, but…” Steve shifts a little on his feet, but stands firm. “He told me that he loves me.”

“Uh huh,” Robin drawls. “And was that before or after you slept together?”

She regrets it the moment she says it, regrets it the moment the words form and she knows they’re going to come out, but it’s too late. She can see the flash of genuine hurt on Steve’s face before he buries it beneath a layer of cool indifference.

“We didn’t actually have sex, but thanks for the vote of confidence,” he bites out, turning and rounding to the next aisle.

Shit.

No one who Robin has personally seen tear a monster in half with his bare hands (feet?) has any right to look as much like a kicked puppy as Steve does, but he somehow manages it.

And the thing is, she knows how important that is to him – for someone to say the words out loud. She’s learned about his parents in bits and pieces; she even eventually got the full scoop on Nancy. She just– she worries. And when she worries, she says things before she really thinks them through.

Sighing, Robin walks around to the next aisle, finding Steve kneeling and paying entirely too much attention to the stacks of cases in front of him. When her slow approach isn’t rebuffed, she sinks down on the floor next to him, cross-legged with her back facing the shelf.

“I’m sorry. That was a cheap shot,” she says.

Steve shrugs.

“If it helps, it wasn’t directed at you,” Robin goes on. “I just– I really don’t have any reason to trust Eddie’s motives, and I don’t like it when you’re sad, and it’s my job as your best friend to look out for you and be mad at people on your behalf. Especially if you’re not going to be mad at them yourself.”

“Isn’t it also your job as my best friend to trust me and my judgment? And, like, support me when I’m doing something that’ll make me happy?” Steve asks quietly, a little dry.

“I guess,” Robin groans, leaning to the side so that her cheek is pillowed on the round of Steve’s shoulder. “But come on. If some girl made me cry, are you telling me you’d get over it in a snap?”

Robin can feel Steve tense beneath her for a moment, and she absolutely knows he’s thinking about lying to her.

“That’s different,” he finally says.

“It really isn’t, you big goddamn hypocrite.” Robin doesn’t bother to hide her smile, even as she smacks Steve on the back, ignoring the whiny ‘ow’ he gives her for it. “So tell me about the date.”

“Which one?” Steve asks.

“The first one. Must’ve been pretty good for you to agree to another,” Robin says.

“It… really was, actually.” Steve shifts carefully out of his crouch, giving Robin enough time to sit up before he settles onto the floor in front of her, back to the opposite shelf. “I mean, it was weird at first. He took me out to some random neighborhood and then we walked a little ways into the woods.”

“Creepy,” Robin says.

“A little bit, yeah.” Steve nods. “And then we came to this little, like, forgotten park? Had some playground equipment and a gazebo. And when we got there, he told me to turn around, so I couldn’t see what he was doing.”

“Creepier.” Robin wrinkles her nose.

“Yeah, but I was curious, so I did it.” Steve shrugs and Robin snorts at him. “But when he let me turn back around, he’d uh – he had a bunch of candles lit up all around the gazebo? It was… really nice. And he brought dinner – something he cooked. Like, with one of the recipes I taught him.”

Robin’s brows go up, reluctantly impressed. “Damn, alright, point to Munson, that was pretty good,” she admits.

“It was,” Steve says with this dumb, smitten little grin that Robin will absolutely tease him about later.

“Okay, okay, so he picked up on you being a romantic, that’s great, but,” Robin holds her hands out in front of herself in an emphatic sort of ‘here’s the thing’ gesture, “where was all of this before?”

“Right?” Steve bursts out, flinging his arms out in front of himself, narrowly avoiding knocking into one of Robin’s hands. “Thank you! I’m not crazy for wondering that!”

“Of course you’re not,” Robin says, narrowing her eyes at him. “He didn’t tell you that you were, did he?”

“No, no, he– he didn’t.” Steve quickly shakes his head. “I just… I don’t know, I felt like I was being kind of unreasonable, I guess. Like, maybe for wanting any of that at all. Or wondering why he didn’t do it sooner.”

“You’re not,” Robin says again. “You deserve to get what you want, Steve.”

“Yeah, that’s what Eddie keeps saying.” Steve sighs, leaning his head back against the shelf.

“Well… good,” Robin says, a mildly reluctant concession. Maybe Eddie’s getting on the right page after all.

“He says he wants me to tell him when I need something,” Steve says. “Like… he wants me to talk to him.”

“What, about your feelings?” Robin asks, playfully wrinkling her nose. “Gross.”

“The worst,” Steve agrees drily, but he looks pleased, and a little thoughtful. Robin gives him the minute to think, before he says, “I did kind of blow up at him, though. Before that.”

“Good,” Robin laughs, nudging his knee with hers.

“It did sort of feel good,” Steve admits, glancing down through his lashes at Robin. “Just… to kinda get it all out.”

“What happened then?” Robin asks.

“Well, it’s – last night kind of went sideways,” Steve says. “It was supposed to be another date, but…”

“But…?”

“He just – when we were having dinner last weekend, he kept calling it our first date, and it was, but it also wasn’t? I kept thinking about what I thought was our first date.”

“Wait, was that the time in your car out by the quarry?”

Steve lifts his head up so he can shift the full brunt of his scrunched look of disapproval onto her. “No, hooking up in my car out by the quarry was not our first date. That didn’t happen until later.”

“Well it’s not like I have timestamps on these things, Steve!” Robin groans.

“It was that night at the diner,” Steve says, and Robin’s mouth falls into a little “oh” of recognition.

“The diner.” She nods.

It’s obvious in retrospect; Robin has heard everything about that night and then some, from the way Eddie had managed to get ketchup everywhere to “and he can do this thing with his tongue, even I didn’t know you could do that, but I’m gonna try and figure it out, it was so good–” (Robin had teasingly asked him if he’d need to practice on a peach or a banana, and he’d thrown a handful of balled-up receipts at her before deciding “both”).

“But he wanted me to tell him about it, so I did, and then last night, for our date, he took me to the diner,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows at Robin.

“What?” Robin’s eyebrows scrunch down in answer. “Did he think he just gets a do-over?”

“That’s what I asked!” Steve says, before subsiding a bit. “But I don’t… I really don’t think he thought that far ahead. I think he just wanted us both to have, like, some kind of special memory there.”

Robin hums, squinting at Steve skeptically.

“Anyway, I kinda yelled at him and I left, but then he actually came and found me,” Steve continues.

“Where did you go?” Robin asks.

“The lake.”

“Why were you all the way out there?”

Steve grimaces. “Mostly because I knew he doesn’t like going out there.”

Robin snorts, and Steve’s grimace shifts into a guilty sort of smile.

“But he came out there, anyway. And we talked, and– I really think he means it, Rob,” Steve says, looking at her like he needs her to believe it, too. Or at least like he needs her to believe him.

Robin sighs, letting her head fall back slowly, as if she’s deflating. “Fine,” she says eventually. “Munson is off death row. He can have a parole hearing.”

“I think you’re getting a little too into this whole execution metaphor,” Steve says.

“You’re both lucky I didn’t decide to make it literal,” Robin shoots back, and Steve laughs. “So, wait,” she looks back up, “you seriously haven’t had sex again? Since the whole…?”

“Oh my god, get this: he actually walked me to my door last weekend,” Steve says, halfway between incredulous and amused. “He didn’t even ask to come inside. Said the rule is to wait until the third date.”

“Oh, I bet you loved that,” Robin teases.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have said no if he had asked to come in,” Steve scoffs. “But I’m… kind of glad he didn’t. It was different.”

Robin smiles. “Different is promising,” she says, reaching out to pat Steve on the knee. “Now come on; we close in, like, half an hour and I don’t want to stay late cleaning.”

“Yeah, alright,” Steve agrees, hoisting himself off the floor before offering Robin a hand up.

“Also, you owe me dinner for all the secrecy,” Robin declares, heading back towards the front of the store with the intent of putting the counter back in order.

“What?” Steve groans. “I already spent, like, two weeks with literally no one to talk to about all of this. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Nope,” Robin says, and for all she can hear him grumbling, it only takes a minute before Steve is standing next to her again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Sap,” she mutters, putting arm around his waist and squeezing him back.

“And yet, who agreed to be my best friend?” Steve asks.

Robin sighs. “I did,” she says, and she doesn’t even have to look to know that Steve’s grin mirrors hers.

Part 11

-

Tag List (Currently full! Message me if you'd like off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

#platonic stobin #stobin #steddie #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #Robin and Steve have zero boundaries and they share a single brain cell #which they use to judge Eddie #solar wrote #eddiesteve

[xiaq]

AO3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2

Pt. 3 I combined the prompts: Outsider POV, Steve Harrington is an Idiot (affectionate), Everyone is Queer Because I Said So, and @c0olness's hyper-specific Wayne's Boyfriend Owns a Gay Bar in Indianapolis and Introduces Steve to a Drag Queen. :)

Angel Reyes has loved Wayne Munson about as long as he’s loved himself. The timing is not coincidental.

Which is why he’s willing to wait for him, even when Angel’s patience is worn thin like the shirt he stole from Wayne three years ago and wears like a prayer to bed.

Some nights, when Wayne calls at the end of his shift and Angel is wiping down his own bar at closing, he’s tempted to say: we might not have much time left—shouldn’t we spend what we do have together?

But he doesn’t.

Because he already knows the answer.

Because the same reason he fell in love with Wayne is the reason Wayne won’t move to Indy. The man is loyal to a fault and when he gives himself to people he gives all of himself and there’s no force in the world that would convince Wayne to leave Hawkins if he thought Eddie still needed him there. Because Wayne loves Angel. But Wayne loved Eddie first. And Angel can hardly begrudge him of that.

So he repeats a well-worn mantra, only slightly comforting: not today, but someday. And he hangs up the phone and he checks the calendar and he looks forward to the time he is allowed. If there’s one thing he learned over the years, it’s that he can’t get greedy when he already has a good thing.

Wayne is worth the quiet agony of patience.

So when he’s locking up for the night and the phone rings, he expects the conversation to take a familiar path. 

“Evening, handsome,” he says, canting his hip against the counter. “You tell him yet?”

It’s been his standard greeting for close to a year. Why the man won’t just tell his gay nephew that he is, conveniently, also gay, is beyond Angel. But then, listening has always been Wayne’s strong suit. Talking, not so much.

“Well,” Wayne says. And that’s new.

“Well?”

“I did, actually. After I walked in on him and Steve kissin’ last night—“

“Finally!” Angel crows. The saga of Eddie and Steve and their will-they-won’t-they relationship had quickly surpassed even his favorite telenovela’s dramatic storylines. The pretty jock with hidden depths and the nerdy metalhead falling in love? Hospital vigils? Protracted pining while sharing a bed? Impeccable. 

“They’re together now,” Wayne finishes.

“Darling,” Angel says, not for the first time, “I’d like to remind you that you are not paying per word for this call.”

Wayne huffs at him, also not for the first time.

“Steve didn’t know liking both boys and girls meant he was bisexual. He thought there was some sort of…threshold he needed to pass to be queer enough to date a man. I suppose Robin set him straight––or, not so straight as the case may be––” he chuckles a little at his own joke, “And he came over to declare his love as soon as his shift ended.”

Angel takes a moment to digest that. “...Maybe they use Eddie as the sperm donor if they want kids,”  he suggests.

“Ease up, it’s not like they teach this shit in school. Bet I’d been a lot more confused too if I had the luxury of liking both.”

“Alright, I won’t pick on your future son-in-law, promise.”

“ Speaking of school,” Wayne says, sidestepping his implication. “Eddie got his diploma in the mail yesterday.”

“You going to do something to celebrate?”

“Actually, we thought we’d take a trip to Indy this weekend.”

Angel twists the phone’s cord around his finger. “…you’re supposed to come next weekend.”

“So you’d have to see me two weeks in a row, if you can bear it.”

“A trial, to be sure. When you say…” he pauses, trying to figure out how to clarify without breaking his own heart. “When you come this weekend. Would you want us—would you want me. To meet them?”

He closes his eyes and bangs a fist against his forehead because that is not the safe way to ask that question. 

“It'd be pretty weird if they didn’t meet the person hosting them.”

“Oh, I see. You’re just using me for my five star accommodations,” he says, because he’s apparently determined to dig his own grave.

“No. Wayne says, “those are nice. But mostly I just want to introduce them to my boyfriend.”

“Ah.”

“And saying shit like that makes me think you’re trying to compete with Steve in the stupid Olympics.”

Angel makes an outraged noise but Wayne talks over him which is unique enough an occurrence that Angel lets him get away with it.

“See,” Wayne says. “The boys have decided they don’t want to stay in Hawkins long-term. They figure they’ll stay another year. Save some money. Make sure the kids are settled. And then Eddie’s set on New York or California and I think Steve’s just set on Eddie, wherever he is. I thought we could at least make a case for Indy, though. ‘Cause if Eddie isn’t staying in Hawkins, I’ve got no reason to.”

“Ah,” Angel says again. “And you don’t have any interest in New York or California?”

“I sure don’t,” Wayne says levelly.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’ll mop the floors and clean the windows. Give them the best showing I can. Should we plan to take them to one of the…heavier… music venues? I can probably have Frank cover for me, I’d just need to ask him now.”

“Nah. I figure I’ll help you out Saturday night and let them explore on their own. Eddie’s already making a list of options. But Friday is drag night at your place, right?”

“It is.”

“We should start them with that, I think.”

Angel grins. “Their debut in queer society shall be heralded by Dolly Parton and glitter.”

“Mm.” 

Angel is familiar enough with Wayne’s thoughtful noises to know that he’s smiling.

“Enough about my boys,” Wayne says. “Tell me about your day.”

Angel does.

When Angel hangs up ten minutes later, for once, he’s grinning. He thinks, as usual, not today but someday. Only ‘someday’ suddenly feels tangible in a way it never has before.

***

Eddie Munson is exactly what Angel expected him to be when he comes tumbling out the driver’s side door of the van parked half on Angel’s driveway and half on his lawn. Angel has been hearing about him through the rosy lens of Wayne’s affection for close to five years and as a result, Angel loves him immediately upon first sight. 

Then again, he’d be difficult not to love. Eddie is a bright, frenetic, presence, all hair and chains and affected airs, who shares Wayne's smile, though he dispenses smiles much more freely than his uncle. He is unashamedly himself as he shakes Angel’s hand, tells his uncle he approves, and then asks for a tour of the house.

Steve Harrington is somehow simultaneously exactly and nothing like Angel expected.

Exactly, because he looks the part: a cropped Hawkins Varsity Basketball sweatshirt, tiny athletic shorts, and the well-built frame of someone who regularly works out. His hair is verging on ridiculous. His face is…well-suited to the body, he’ll say.

But the kid also has a hyper-awareness to him, a quick-eyed, assessing, vigilant posture, that Angel has only ever seen in war vets twice the kid’s age. He puts his back to a room’s farthest corner. He keeps doorways in sight. And he constantly, constantly, orbits Eddie like the world's most unsubtle protective detail. 

There are also the scars. Terrible, still-healing, scars. On one exposed thigh, the side of his neck, and his right forearm. On the slice of skin between his waistband and the frayed cut-off hem of his sweater. He wears them unapologetically, with the composure of someone who is neither proud nor embarrassed by them.  

Angel suspects, only a few minutes into their first meeting, that Eddie may have similar scars beneath his torn jeans and bleach-speckled band shirt. One of his arms has some sort of medical sleeve on it—the pale fabric covered in black bleed-fuzzy Sharpie drawings of bats. Angel considers the mangled half-moon-shaped lines decorating Steve’s thigh. Unless earthquakes have suddenly developed teeth, Wayne has clearly been editing his stories. 

But despite their significant aesthetic differences, the two boys are well-suited, if painfully young and unpracticed in the art of subtlety. They touch each other constantly; unthinkingly. Hands. Hips. Shoulders. Elbows. And the way they look at each other—well. They’ll need to work on that if they don’t want to accumulate more scars. Granted, they hardly have to hide their relationship in the sanctuary of his home, but he gets the feeling they don’t know how to be any other way with each other. 

It’s both sweet and more than a little heartbreaking.

“So,” he says, “ I need to get back to the bar before the opening act at 8. It’s drag night.”

“Robin is going to be furious she didn’t come,” Steve says.

“We’ll bring her next time,” Eddie says. 

They go.

***

Angel’s bar is called Innuendo. 

He can’t take credit for the name, but he can take credit for the atmosphere. It’d been a dark, sticky, hole-in-the-wall when he started working there at 21. When he’d bought it from the former owner a decade later, he’d cleaned it up, regulated the jukebox hours, and started live music, drag, and deejay nights. A few years after that, in 1984, when the mayor issued a proclamation declaring the new city policy to no longer discriminate against queers, he’d taken the boards down from all the windows. 

It’s still dark in the back where the stage and dance floor are tucked away, but the front windows with a clear view of the street are big and unashamed. He keeps the windows clean.

There’s a copy of the proclamation framed above them, along with pictures of Angel and noteworthy patrons of the establishment over the years: Wakefield Poole; Tom Higgins; Bayard Rustin; Freddie Mercury, and Jim Hutton. 

A lot has changed in the last two decades that he’s worked there, but some things, like the old oak-wood bar where all the pictures were taken, stay the same.

He brings Wayne and the boys in through the back to scattered shouts of hello from regulars. He and Wayne slide behind the bar to start helping Frank, and the boys sit on stools with wide eyes.

It’s nice, to see the place from their perspective. The magic of it is never lost on him, but sometimes he does forget exactly how magic it is: a bar that looks like most other bars but where men look and touch and kiss without concern, where there’s art and magazines and conversations that wouldn’t be permitted by common society a scant few feet outside the door.

After fifteen minutes, they get brave enough to explore—admiring the posters on the opposite wall: Bijou and Boys in the Sand; Passing Strangers, Forbidden Letters, and A Night at the Adonis.

They play a round of darts near the front windows, the boards covered in shitty black-and-white copies of Anita Bryant’s face.

They sit at a table near the stage when the show starts. They pull their chairs together. They hold hands on the tabletop. They laugh and shout and sing along and kiss when invited.

After, when they’re back at the bar, flushed with alcohol and the subtle worldview shift that Angel remembers well from his first visit to a gay bar, a few of the queens come over to introduce themselves. Leslie, currently in her Cher era, steps up to the bar, accepts her drink from Wayne with a wink, and gives Steve a clear once-over.

“Aren't you out a little late for a school night, baby?" she says in her customary baritone.

“Uh, no ma’am. I graduated last year. Sorry. Sir?”

"Sugar, do I look like a ‘sir’ to you?"

“Take it easy on him, Les,” Angel calls. “He’s new.”

“No kidding.” She purses her lips at him. “Ma’am is fine unless you meet me on the street. But here I’d prefer ‘honey. Or ‘darling.”

Steve swallows. “I promised I’d reserve pet names for my boyfriend. So. I’ll stick with Ma’am.”

“Well aren’t you a charmer. And where is this boyfriend?”

“Hi,” Eddie says.

She gives him an equally critical once-over.

“Do you know what that color bandana means in that pocket?”

Eddie glances down at his back left pocket; at the black bandana hanging against his thigh.

“Ah...that I’m into S&M but that I like to be the  submission one? Like the one getting tied up?”

“You what?” Steve says.

Angel notices that Wayne has made a hasty exit to the bathroom, which is probably for the best.

“Oh my sweet summer child,” Leslie says, “it means the opposite on that side, so maybe switch pockets.” She considers Steve’s pink face. “And also maybe talk to your boyfriend. The whole point of flagging is to find someone to meet your needs and you've got a pretty one right here who seems like he’s awfully willing.”

Steve pulls the bandana out of Eddie’s pocket and, using his teeth, tidily rips it into two. He tucks one half in Eddie’s right back pocket. He tucks the other in his left. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow like he's expecting Eddie to argue. Eddie does not argue. Eddie doesn't do much of anything except stare at him with wide, hungry eyes.

“Well,” Leslie says, sounding pleased, “My work here is done. Honestly, kids these days.”

She gives Steve a little pat on the shoulder as she pushes back into the crowd. “I’d dance while you have the chance, boys. Life is short and sometimes so is love. Capitalize on that shit!”

“Do you want to dance?” Steve asks.

Eddie is still watching Leslie with a bemused smile. “I don’t know how to dance to this music.”

“Well I won’t know how to dance to yours tomorrow, but I’m planning to let you show me.”

“Fair enough, King Steve." Eddie affects a curtsy, offering Steve his hand. “I suppose I can allow you to take me for a turn about the dance floor, good sir.”

Steve bows low over Eddie’s hand, pressing his lips to his knuckles, looking up at him with a grin. “An honor,” he says solemnly, and then drags Eddie, laughing, into the throng of moving bodies.

***

The next morning, Angel wakes up early for no reason he can determine. He’s not good at sitting idle, and he doesn’t want his fidgeting to wake Wayne, so he elects to take his book to the garden. Only, as he slips into the hall, careful with the door behind him, he can hear the quiet, indistinct lull of voices in the kitchen.

Angel moves down the hall on sock feet, avoiding the creaky bit of flooring where the original foundation meets the master addition he added four years back. 

The boys have opened the double doors to the patio and Steve is leaning against the jam on one side, coffee cup in hand, looking out at the garden. He’s shirtless, wearing only the shorts from the day before. Warm, tree-diluted, sunrise rays cast him in sepia, making the scars that traverse his flank to his thigh look less gruesome and more artistic. Poetic. He knows more than one photographer who would kill for a shot like this. Something about the coexistence of beauty and pain. Something about a commentary on perceptions of strength; the allure of imperfection resulting from battles survived.

Eddie joins Steve, sliding under his open arm like a habit, dragging a hand down Steve’s side to cup the puckered line of recently-stitched skin at Steve’s hip. 

Eddie is also shirtless—wearing jeans and a riot of bed head that Steve presses his face into, murmuring something low and clearly funny by the stifled laughter it produces. 

Angel wasn't wrong with his initial assumption: Eddie’s back is littered with shallow scars as well, but he also has a fair amount of tattoos, which makes the other marks less incongruous. There’s something about Steve’s otherwise flawless skin and sculpted muscles that make his injuries feel more visceral.

Or, at least, that’s what he thinks until Steve suddenly looks behind him, like he has a preternatural awareness that he’s being watched.

“Oh,” he says, “Good morning.”

Both boys turn to face him. 

And Angel realizes that Steve’s injuries pale in comparison to Eddie’s.

Because Eddie’s chest and belly is a brutal mess of scar tissue.

It looks like something tried to gut him.

It looks like whatever it was probably succeeded.

He knows he’s staring but he can’t seem to stop himself until Steve slides a proprietary hand over the worst of it, spread fingers against what has to still be an agony of healing skin.

He meets Angel's eyes and all but dares him to say anything.

“I think,” Angel says, turning abruptly to enter the kitchen, “the occasion calls for french toast. Thoughts?”

“The occasion?” Eddie asks.

His hand covers Steve’s and presses, not a dismissal but an invitation to linger. 

“Your diploma,” Angel says, “Steve’s first time making a fool of himself in front of a drag queen. Whatever excuse is sufficient for the making of said french toast.”

“See, we’re sort of trying out this new thing lately,” Eddie murmurs, looking at Steve, “where we don’t need excuses for things that make us happy.”

“No guilt in our pleasures,” Steve agrees, voice soft, expression reverent. He tucks an errant curl behind Eddie’s ear.

Angel resists the urge to sigh at them. Instead, he toasts them with a carton of eggs. “French toast for the pleasure of french toast, then. You two go sit on the bench in the garden. The sun should be hitting it right about now and that is surely a pleasurable experience. I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”

Steve meets his eyes again, this time less challenging, more thankful. 

His hand slides from Eddie’s belly to the small of his back, pushing him out onto the patio.

“That sounds nice,” he says.

And they go.

When Wayne shuffles out to join Angel at the stove ten minutes later, the bread is sizzling in the skillet. 

They take their time washing the egg bowl and whisk in the sink, elbow to elbow, two men sharing space for a one-man job.

They lean into each other, considering Eddie and Steve, similarly leaned into each other, on the bench under the oak tree outside.

“You think I should talk to them?” Wayne murmurs. “About the way they look at each other. And touch each other. And how they need to cut that shit out if they’re in public?”

“Probably,” Angel sighs. “But not today.”

“No,” Wayne agrees after a moment of silence. He presses a kiss to Angel’s temple. “Not today.”

Pt. 4 (Will's POV)

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve/eddie #myfic #outsider pov #prompt fill #mywriting #listen this was mostly an excuse to cram in a bunch of references to the research I did for my PhD exams in queer theory/history

[steddieas-shegoes]

hi! i love your works so much and i have a request ^^ i wanted to ask if you could do a jealous and/or possessive eddie? maybe where steve and eddie are super close to finally admitting they like each other and just need one more push or something, or they're just newly dating. they're both at a gay bar, and steve's been receiving lots of stares and heated gazes from some of the ppl there? maybe a person was brave enough to try but eddie's right beside him watching the entire interaction.

i've come across a fair share amount of jealous/possessive steve in steddie stories and i wanted to see it being eddie for a change. tysm in advance and i can't wait to read the other requests with your amazing writing <3

I LOVE possessive Eddie!!! I really only see it in Kas!Eddie or vampire Eddie situations and I wish it was written more for just regular old human Eddie who just has entirely too much love for Steve to contain his emotions when someone else tries to make a move. I hope you like this little thing (2500 words!) I came up with and the other requests I've been putting out so far! - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------------------

Robin convinced them she needed support.

Support Steve’s ass.

She was doing just fine from the moment they stepped in the door of this place.

So fine, in fact, she’d abandoned him and Eddie before they even got their first round of drinks brought to them.

Steve sat at the table with Eddie, awkwardly watching as people kept dancing and drinking and making out in dark corners of the bar.

He tried not to look too much, though. He didn’t want anyone to think he wasn’t comfortable here.

Quite the opposite, actually.

He’d been here a couple of times with just Robin: once before he figured out he was into men, once before he figured out he was into Eddie, and once more before this where he tried very hard to be into Eddie and failed.

But Eddie had insisted on coming when he overheard them talking about it, saying he hadn’t been here since high school and could use a night in a place where he could just be himself.

As if he wasn’t always obnoxiously (and beautifully) himself.

Robin had given Eddie a Look, but nodded in agreement, saying it would be awesome to have both her favorite guys there.

Which rubbed Steve a little wrong because he was her only favorite guy.

But he got over it because now Eddie was his only company, probably for the entire night going off of the way the girl with Robin was staring at her.

Ogling her.

Steve sighed. Eddie sighed.

They looked at each other and laughed.

“She do this to you every time?”

“No, usually we stick together. Must feel brave since you’re here with me.”

“Awww, she trusts me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but there was probably more truth to that than he cared to admit.

Robin was often afraid to leave him alone, but she never hesitated if Eddie was with him.

He felt people staring at him, but he ignored it. He wasn’t here to find anyone and it would be silly to even try knowing that Eddie was right there.

But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good to have people checking him out. He used to thrive on it in high school, feeling seen by anyone was better than being seen by no one.

Then, he hated it. He wanted to be invisible and he wanted everyone to focus on anyone and anything else in the room. He got his wish most of the time.

Until Eddie.

Eddie always included him in everything, pointing out when he was being quiet or moody, asking him questions to involve him in conversations, making sure he understood what Dustin was saying which was a challenge often.

He would touch his arm when he passed by him on the way to grab a drink from the kitchen or let their thighs touch on the couch on movie nights.

He let him come over after work on the nights he was too riled up, needing to let out some of his energy with a walk, but being too scared to do it alone.

So Eddie saw him, and made others see him, and he didn’t always love it, but he accepted it.

Tonight felt different, though.

All these eyes on him meant that people found him attractive, maybe wanted to dance with him or bring him home. If Eddie weren’t here, he’d maybe give it a shot with someone, try to find a way out of this hole he dug himself into with the first guy he’d admitted to himself he had feelings for.

But he also felt Eddie’s eyes on him, practically burning a hole through the side of his face every time he looked out at the crowd.

He felt heat crawling up his neck, to his cheeks.

Having all of Eddie’s attention was a lot for anyone, but especially Steve, who frequently thought about what it would be like to have Eddie’s attention on him in bed, or in the shower, or on the couch, or the pool, or-

“Did you want another drink?”

Steve looked down at the drink in his hand. He’d barely finished half of it, so he didn’t really know why Eddie was asking unless he just needed an excuse to get up.

“Um. No thanks. Probably should just have one anyway.”

“Sure.”

Eddie got up with his empty glass and started walking towards the bar.

Almost as soon as Eddie was gone, a taller man in a suit was taking his place at the table.

“Well, hi there, honey. Never seen you here before. First time?”

The guy was older, mid-thirties at least, and probably not the type of guy Steve would want to experiment with. But he was flirting, and he was kind of cute.

Steve could let himself enjoy a little casual flirting, right? It wouldn’t have to lead to anything.

“No, but I don’t come often.”

Steve rested his arms on the table, head in his hand. He grinned at the man, that Harrington charm practically beaming off of him.

“You could come tonight if you wanted to join me in the back.”

That was smooth. Sleazy, but smooth.

Steve didn’t drop his grin, but he shook his head.

“I don’t think I’m interested in just hooking up in the bathroom. Maybe you could buy me a drink?”

He had no intention of drinking another drink, but he figured this guy would lose interest if he showed he was more needy.

He was wrong.

The guy practically tripped over his feet to stand up from the booth.

“What would you like?”

“Oh. Uh.”

“He’s good, man. How about you go buy a drink for someone interested?”

Eddie came out of nowhere. Seriously, Steve had just seen him at the bar a few seconds before he spoke.

“Is this your boyfriend or something?”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly as Eddie stood taller, more intimidating.

“Does it matter? I’m asking you nicely to go.”

“I don’t think it’s up to you. I asked him.”

Eddie looked like he wanted to punch the guy, and Steve could admit to himself silently that he wanted to see it.

But he didn’t quite understand why Eddie was reacting like this; He’d assumed Eddie would want to try to hook up with someone while he was here and wouldn’t want to spend all his time with Steve.

“Steve? Do you wanna get a drink with this guy?”

No, he didn’t. He hadn’t even before Eddie came back. But a part of him had to wonder if maybe Eddie’s reaction was just to protect Steve from an older guy.

“I actually have to drive us back home so I probably shouldn’t have another drink. Thanks though.”

The guy mumbled something before turning and leaving, shaking his head as he walked to the bar.

Eddie slid into the booth next to him instead of across from him, letting most of their sides touch.

Steve couldn’t help the way his body naturally curled into Eddie’s, the comfort and safety of his body drawing Steve in without effort.

It should have ended there. Steve should have just let himself stay rested against Eddie’s side until Robin was done.

He did for a minute, but then his brain decided it needed explanations.

“What was wrong with that guy buying me a drink?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, his body tense against Steve’s.

“I just don’t think he was the right kind of person to be buying you a drink. You deserve better than that.”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

Eddie didn’t know the guy, he could’ve been really nice. Other than the propositioning as his first line, he seemed like he was willing to do whatever Steve wanted to get more time with him.

“Who is the right kind of person then?”

“Someone younger. Maybe someone who doesn’t wear a damn suit to a gay bar. This is a casual place, there’s no need to flaunt your super important job. Plus, he could see your drink was still half full, he should’ve known you didn’t want one.”

“You offered me a drink before you got up.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because I’m not trying to get you drunk to sleep with me.”

Yeah, and wasn’t that a shame?

Steve dropped it. It wasn’t worth arguing with Eddie and he didn’t want to ruin any of the fun they could have.

“Should we dance?”

Eddie pulled away and looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You want to dance with me?”

“Why not? We’ve been abandoned by Robin and the music isn’t bad.”

The music wasn’t bad to Steve. Eddie, however, was suffering through it as it was, and that was without having to dance to it.

“Pleeeeease?” Steve pouted at Eddie, eyes wide.

“You can’t make that face. It’s not fair.”

Steve kept making the face because being fair wasn’t something he cared about.

Eddie stood up, holding his hand out towards Steve to help him stand from the table.

Steve took it, ignoring the way he wanted to collapse against Eddie the second he stood up.

They made it to the dance floor, where a surprising amount of people were dancing in pairs and small groups, enjoying the fact that they could safely here.

Just when Steve turned to Eddie, the music changed to Head Over Heels by Tears For Fears.

Steve tried not to take it as a sign.

Eddie suddenly looked even more nervous, like he’d planned on maybe getting away with just jumping around to the music and now he couldn’t.

Just when Steve was going to give him an out, another guy, this one younger, but not as nice looking, wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulder.

“How ‘bout we dance, sugar?”

The guy was drunk.

Steve wasn’t interested in ruining his favorite song by dancing with this drunk guy.

“He’s busy,” Eddie said firmly.

The guy backed up a bit, but still had his hand against Steve’s arm, resting there with enough of a grip to keep him upright.

“Sorry, you got somethin’ against me dancin’ with him?”

“Yeah, that’s why I just said he’s busy.”

Eddie pushed the guy’s hand off of Steve’s arm and put his own around Steve’s waist, pulling him against his side with no room for air or argument.

Steve tried to catch his breath, his heart skipping a beat and his lungs exhaling instead of inhaling.

“Maybe you should let him say if he’s busy or not.”

Steve was missing his favorite song to argue with a guy he wasn’t interested in when he could be dancing with Eddie.

Unacceptable.

“I’m dancing with him. Find someone else.”

The guy rolled his eyes and walked away.

Eddie turned and adjusted his arms so they rested on Steve’s hips.

Steve didn’t know what to do.

“Have you never slow danced before, King Steve?”

“Uh. Just once.”

“Oh? Let me help you then.”

Eddie took his hands in his own and gently placed them around his neck, pulling himself closer to Steve when his hands found his hips again.

“This okay?”

“Yeah.”

Steve wasn’t sure how this was happening, how this was real.

He just knew he didn’t want it to end.

He rested his head against Eddie’s shoulder, letting himself enjoy what would probably be his only chance at dancing with Eddie for the rest of his life.

“Why do you keep sending people away?”

Why was Steve determined to ruin tonight with his stupid fucking questions?

“What do you mean?”

“It just seems like you don’t wanna share.”

Eddie didn’t respond.

Steve looked up at him, but his face was hard to read in the darkness of the bar.

“Eds?”

“I don’t.” Eddie cleared his throat. “I don’t wanna share you. I like having you all to myself. Sorry if I’ve ruined your night.”

He started to pull away and Steve panicked. He couldn’t say that and then leave.

“What do you mean? You haven’t ruined anything. I wanted to spend it with you, anyways.”

Eddie was searching his eyes, looking for any sign of a lie.

“Steve, I-” The song changed, but it was another slow song. They kept slowly rocking and staring at each other. “I have to tell you something. You’re probably gonna hate me and wanna leave me here in Indy.”

Steve gulped. Could he possibly have feelings for Steve?

“I uh. I sent them away because I was jealous.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I love you so fucking much I don’t know what to do with it all the time! Sometimes I hide in the bathroom during movie nights so I can scream into the towels. Do you know how ridiculous that is? I’ve even been caught by Max before and she promised not to say anything if I gave her $20.”

“Oh.”

Oh? What the hell Steve, say something else.

“So, I get it if you hate me. I mean, I don’t know how this happened and I have no right to send potential dates away because I want to keep you to myself.”

Steve leaned up and placed a kiss on Eddie’s cheek.

“I’m glad you got jealous.”

Eddie was blushing now.

“What?”

“If you hadn’t been jealous, you probably wouldn’t have told me all this, would you?”

“No, I guess not.”

“You know what helps with jealousy?”

Eddie looked down at him, more confused than ever.

Steve didn’t wait for him to respond.

“Making out in the bathroom of a gay bar.”

Eddie’s eyes practically bugged out of his head as he registered what Steve was saying.

“You wanna do that? With me?”

“Well, I certainly don’t wanna do it with anyone else. And you won’t let me do it with anyone else. So maybe we should do it together.”

Eddie grabbed his wrist and wordlessly led them to the bathroom in the back of the bar.

It wasn’t empty, but the single stall was available and Eddie made it pretty clear what their intentions were when he dragged Steve right into it, closing and locking the door only a second before his hot lips were on Steve’s.

It was better than what Steve could have possibly imagined, but still not enough.

Now that he knew Eddie wanted him, he wanted everything Eddie could give him.

And Eddie seemed to want to give it all to him.

His lips were almost too much, but Steve couldn’t get enough.

They weren’t even in a bathroom anymore, floating high above the clouds with happiness and contentment.

Until a knock on the stall door nearly made Steve give himself another concussion.

“Dingus One and Dingus Two! Super happy for you both, but it’s time to go.”

“Shit.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s nearly one in the morning and we agreed to leave by midnight. I got distracted by boobies.”

“Don’t we all,” Steve said, as Eddie let out a loud laugh.

They opened the stall door and Robin sighed.

“Fix your hair. I’ll be at the car.”

Steve looked in the mirror as she left the bathroom, smirking at Eddie’s reflection behind him in a similar state of disarray.

“Okay?”

“So okay.”

“You owe me a dance.”

“What? Why? We danced!”

“But it got interrupted. And I wanna dance with you.”

Eddie sighed, but smiled fondly at Steve.

“I’ll dance with you whenever you want, sweetheart.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #love confessions #possessive eddie munson #jealous eddie munson #platonic stobin #anon request #requests

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

Shorter Part 3, sorry y’all 😭

“Does this have to do with the rose?” Dustin asks them as soon as they are alone in the car. ‘Damn,’ Steve thinks, ‘I should’ve dropped you off first.’

“What do you know about the rose?” Steve asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I know it’s from his secret admirer.”

“You know about that?”

“Of course I do, Steve, he tells that story to everyone who will listen.” Dustin says as if it’s common knowledge.

“So who are your theories? I know you’ve got them.” Steve says

“I have no clue.” Steve looks at him confused “I really don’t. I even told Eddie that we could figure it out if we saw the note but he just shook his head and went back to grinning that goofy grin he had.”

“…And that’s bad?”

“Well no, I just figured he’d want help figuring it out, but that’s not the weird part about it all. He didn’t even have everything set up when we got there.”

Steve gives Dustin a confused glance, trying to keep his eyes on the road in front of him.

“Eddie normally gets there super early to set everything up, but even by time Lucas got there just before we were about to start, all of Eddie’s DM stuff was still in his bag. Literally only the tables and his throne were pulled out where they were supposed to be. He just kept staring at that damn rose with that lovestruck look on his face.”

“Hey, language! But yeah, that is weird? What? Don’t look at me like that, I’ve been around you all long enough to know that’s out of character for him..he loves that game.” Steve chuckles to himself, thinking about the party’s collective confused faces at Eddie’s soft one. “Alright, doofus, this is you. Tell your mom I say ‘Hi’.”

Dustin rolls his eyes and shuffles out the car door and up the drive.

Steve waits until he’s safely inside before backing out, and heading home.

‘holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshi—‘ Steve’s brain played on a loop, his face splitting into a grin.

——————

The (now) third time Eddie "hears" from his secret admirer is definitely not when he was expecting. It kind of makes sense, if his secret admirer really is into him still he'd know that Eddie plays at the Hideout on Tuesday nights. But if he's being honest with himself, the rose flung up on stage while they were still drowned in spotlight was the second most surprising thing of the night. Actually, make that third.

First was the size of the crowd. Being accused of a ritualistic murder does have one benefit then, it has a tendency to make you seem more metal than you might actually be (especially within the metal community). The dingy little bar was actually packed tonight. So many people were there to see Eddie and his bandmates that it was the start of his nervousness. And Eddie never gets nervous about playing, it’s like breathing to him.

Secondly (and the second reason for Eddie to be nervous that night) was that Steeeeve Harrington himself was there to see him play. Him along with Buckley AND Nancy Wheeler had even dressed up for the occasion, pulling out as much black and grungy looking pieces from the backs of their wardrobes as they could find. Eddie swears Wheeler is wearing one of the old band tees Robin stole from him and Steve is wear-holy fuck. HOLY FUCK. Steve Harrington is wearing his (His! Eddie Munson’s!) battle vest. How the fuck he managed to keep it is beyond him but…yep. Eddie’s vest looks just as good on Steve now than it did in that upside-down hellscape.

Only a second had gone by in the time it took Eddie to process all of this before the lights go down and the spotlight is blinding him to everything beyond the stage.

“Get your head in gear, Munson, you’ve got a whole bar full of people to blow away… shit” Eddie mumbles to himself before stepping up to the mic.

And of course, no matter his surprise or nervousness about anything (or anyone) in the crowd that night, the show goes off without a hitch. He’s saying his goodbyes to the crowd as they cheer, holler, and whistle for them, some people are even throwing things. A couple of coasters with phone numbers scrawled on them are frisbee’d onto the stage around him, one (1) singular pair of panties (wtf this is insane), and from his right, just before the lights come back up in the bar, a single red rose tied with a black ribbon.

Time slows down. That’s the only way he could’ve snatched it out of the air the way he did.

He catches it and the crowd lets loose a few wolf whistles. Eddie grins so wide his face hurts. “Thank you guys so much, we’ll be here next week!” he jeers and lifts the rose in his hand in the air like he’s showing it off. The lights finally come up, and Eddie looks directly toward where the rose came from, trying to see if he recognized any of the faces. The only face he recognizes is Steve’s, off a good bit to the left from where the rose came at him, and who is also looking around for who it would’ve come from. Steve looks up at Eddie, and shrugs, he didn’t see anything either.

‘Of course he’s going to act like he didn’t see anything if he’s the one who threw it.’ Eddie’s brain helpfully supplies.

Nope. NOPE. Not going there, that’s so impossible. Steve was a good friend, even if he was blissfully unaware of the affect he had on Eddie.

Eddie shrugs back at Steve before turning back to the guys and helping them pack up their stuff.

“What does this one say?” Gareth asks him when they’re lugging the last of the equipment off the stage.

“Ermph durnup.” Eddie mumbles around the rose stem in his mouth. He sets the amps he was carrying at the back door to be loaded into his van (Which Steve was so graciously helping with). Eddie spits the rose out into his hand as Steve comes back into the doorway. Now ALL of them waiting on Eddie to read out the note. Even Robin and Wheeler have come backstage to watch them work. “Haven’t read it yet.”

“What’s happening now?” Nancy asks, confused. ‘Was she really never around during any of the re-tellings of this story?’ Eddie thinks to himself

“My secret admirer threw this to me as we were wrapping up our set.” Eddie waggles his eyebrows at the older Wheeler “I tried to see who it was, but by the time the lights came back on and I could actually see past the stage, the crowd was already thinning out.”

“They probably didn’t want to be recognized just yet? Even I looked around as soon as I could see again, but yeah, everyone had started dispersing.” Steve chimed in from the doorway he was leaning against, arms crossed across his chest. Damn were his arms always that huge?

“Uh_uh yeah, I do love a guy with a flair for dramatics.” everyone chuckled at that

“Of course you do Munson” Steve smiled at him “Now hurry up and read it!”

“OK, OK, this one says ‘You alone can make my song take flight’.” Eddie sings the line softly, redness creeping up his cheeks as his friends react around him.

“Ew, that’s so gross I’m gonna barf.” - Robin

“That’s so sweet!” - Nancy

“You’re going to be talking about this for weeks aren’t you?” - Gareth

Various well-meaning eye rolls come from the rest of his bandmates as they take care of the amps Steve had been neglecting.

And Steve, Steve was looking at Eddie with the warmest, fondest smile he’d ever seen.

Hmm…

____________________________________________

Pt. 4 will be here! Thank you for reading!!

Now on AO3! Several Notes of the Most Amiable Nature

Tagging everyone I can!: @manda-panda-monium , @destielinimpala , @ilovecupcakesandtea , @maya-custodios-dionach , @thefreakandthehair , @youmakemyhearthowl , @phantypurple , @kerlypride , @hagbaby420 , @yes-im-your-mom , @tinydragonhuman , @beeing-stuupid , @ineffablecolors , @m00gl3ness , @background-noise-headache , @jojobeaner , @bitedownonmydestiel , @orangeandthefairroadkill , @llamaoftheinternet , @captain-daryn , @undreamingscatworld , @britishmysteries , @sharpbutsoft , @funnymagicman-named-dandy , @allbymyselfexceptformycactus , @wearelosersyoudumbfuck , @itsthebeckyzone , @thegingervulcan , @urmomification , @wonderingglances , @calciferousoai , @csinnamon-fox , @straight4joekeery , @alex-axolotl , @nitro502 , @whorenerdking , @skeletoneddie , @eddiehashands , @prosedumpofmaya , @werewolfpeterparker , @bigboyandmetalhead , @stevethescareington , @xxbottlecapx , @starkdusk , @legitcookie , @withacapitalp

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine #secret admirer au #secret admirer #phantom!eddie #phantom of the opera #stranger things #st #st s4 #st fillet #stranger things ficlet #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #pt 3 #1500 #several notes of the most amiable nature

[patchworkgargoyle]

with a bang 🎊

A gift for the lovely and talented Joey (@matchingbatbites) as part of our STuad server holiday gift exchange! I hope you enjoy, and have a lovely new year <3

Based on the prompts: impact play, secret relationship, and "don't be mean to me." Fingers crossed I did them justice! Rated: E || 4.7k words || CW: impact play, unprotected sex Full tag list on ao3!

Eddie was going to combust. He was also debating whether he should plot Robin’s untimely demise or send her a Thank You bouquet. Dressing up for their New Years party had been her idea, after all, and once she got Nancy on her side there was no swaying either of them, no matter how much the rest of them had hemmed and hawed. Eddie didn’t see a point to it; he’d thought they were just calling it a New Years party as an excuse to hang out without the rugrats for once, but then Robin wanted to make it a party party. With champagne and shit. And fancy clothes.

Once Argyle had confirmed he could wear whatever colours he wanted, so long as the clothes were dressy, Eddie knew his fate was sealed. He’d been the biggest—and loudest—nay-sayer, but with Jonathan, Steve, and Vickie being more or less neutral, his hard-fought battle against a dress code had been lost.

And jesus christ, is he ever glad he lost.

He got to Steve’s place last after he hit up the liquor store, the three bottles of the cheapest sparkling wine in his arms bought with their pooled funds. They nearly smashed on the Harrington stoop when Steve opened the front door he’d obnoxiously kicked looking like… well.

Steve owned a suit, apparently. A nice one. God, it must be tailored or some shit with how well it fit. His shoulders were so broad in the suit jacket, the black tie looking at home around Steve’s throat under the pressed white collar. Black dress pants made his legs long. Even that signature swoop in his hair was perfectly coiffed. Eddie’s eyes devoured the sight before him, and the first and foremost thought in his mind was that he wanted to get Steve out of that suit as soon as goddamn possible. Especially when Steve began to smirk at him knowingly.

His second thought was that he was so screwed.

They’d been hooking up for a bit now, was the thing. It was new. They hadn’t told anyone yet because they wanted to keep it to themselves, figure it out a little, have fun before the kids learned about it and got nosy. When they’d started talking about going on dates, though—and if his past self knew he’d be planning a date with Steve Harrington he’d blow a gasket—they’d agreed to say something once New Years was over. But how the hell was Eddie going to keep his mouth shut, not to mention his hands to himself, when Steve looked like that!?

“You’re wearing that?” he hissed. “This is cruel and unusual, Steve. This is torture. Why are you dressed like that when I can’t do anything about it!”

Shrugging, Steve whispered, “It’s my only suit, it’s all I had to wear.”

Eddie felt he was being too nonchalant about this and narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth to complain more but then he heard Nancy’s voice from inside. “What are you guys doing? It’s cold out!” she said with a laugh, and Steve cocked an eyebrow and stepped aside so Eddie could come in.

Steve took the bottles so Eddie could get out of his coat, and he did notice, with no small amount of satisfaction, that Steve’s eyes were on him too. Eddie might not have a tailored suit, but his black dress shirt and slacks fit him pretty damn well, he figured, and the way Steve was looking at him made it clear he thought the same. Eddie stuck his tongue out between his teeth and wiggled his eyebrows at Steve suggestively and earned a dark, desirous look from him that promised later and sent a thrill down Eddie’s spine.

But later was getting harder and harder to wait for. As their little party went on, Steve found more ways to drive Eddie up the fucking wall, when he’d rather be pushed into the wall, secrecy be damned.

It was all the little touches, the fleeting looks. Steve developed a habit of tugging on Eddie’s belt loops when no one was looking, or the sleeve of his shirt; something that would grab Eddie’s attention and pull him just a smidge closer. When they’d ended up sitting next to each other on the couch Steve gradually shifted into Eddie’s space and their thighs kept touching, and Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have his legs tangled with Steve’s in his bed. And then, when their eyes met, Eddie swore Steve would check him out. It was always quick, but he could practically feel it when Steve looked at his lips, or where his shirt collar was undone. Eddie went red every time.

Eventually Eddie decided to give as good as he got, though that may have also been fueled by the cheap wine. He’d watch Steve over the rim of his glass until Steve caught on and licked his lips when Steve’s eyes flicked downward, only glancing away after a few seconds of holding his gaze. Letting his arm drape casually over the back of the couch so he could brush his fingers down the nape of Steve’s neck was absolutely a risk, but it was worth it when Steve’s breath hitched and he stumbled over his words. He was talking to Jonathan, though, who was high as a kite and didn’t notice. Hopefully.

They kept upping the ante all night and Eddie was a stiff breeze away from getting hard from all the tension by the time midnight crept up on the group. Five minutes before the countdown, Nancy herded them all out to Steve’s backyard in a rush. The town stretched out in the distance, lights glittering in the dark winter night. An occasional screech and flash of colour from premature fireworks interrupted the anticipatory silence that hung over Hawkins. Vickie helped Robin uncork the last bottle of champagne, and the teens passed it around, refilling their glasses as they huddled close to fend off the cold.

“Did we really have to stand outside for this?” Steve grumbled. He stood between Eddie and Robin and kept bumping shoulders with both of them.

“Duh, we can’t see the fireworks from inside, dingus,” Robin said, even though she shivered the hardest out of all of them. Vickie was tucked into her side and had her arms wrapped around Robin’s waist to try to keep warm.

Steve crossed his arms and glared out across the snowy lawn. “We could’ve grabbed our coats at least.”

“I did mean to give us more time to get ready, but it’s too late now.” Nancy looked at her watch. “Two minutes until midnight.”

When Eddie shoved his free hand in his pocket and shivered extra hard, Steve leaned into him, and it took every bit of willpower to not give in to the urge to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. Or kiss him. The idea of being openly affectionate with Steve made Eddie feel all fizzy inside in the best way. He was glad they were going to tell everyone after this. As fun as it had been, keeping this between themselves, he was getting tired of having to hide how he felt. He wanted their friends to know, wanted to touch and kiss his boyfrie—Steve without having to sneak around.

“Anyone got a wish they wanna make?” Argyle asked, and everyone else shot him confused looks.

“I don’t think people make wishes on New Years,” Jonathan said haltingly. “Do you mean resolutions?”

“Nah dude, I think wishes are better. Less pressure, y’know?”

Eddie tipped his head thoughtfully. “That’s a good point,” he said, and Argyle beamed at him.

“Yeah, that sounds like a nice idea.” Vickie agreed. “We should all think of a wish!”

“Just don’t say what it is or it won’t come true. Told my sister that I wished on a dandelion that my skateboard would never break but the next day it snapped like–” Argyle mimed breaking something over his knee, complete with sound effects. “It was a total bummer, man.”

“Wasn’t that the one you cracked and duct taped over?” Jonathan asked, bloodshot eyes narrowed as he tried to remember.

“Yeah, but like, with the good tape.”

Nancy gave an amused, but pinched, smile when she said, “Half a minute.”

Steve shuffled and Eddie looked over at him. He was so unfairly handsome tonight, freckled cheeks and nose flushed from the chill, and though his hair wasn’t quite as perfect anymore it just made him look roguish. Eddie wanted to get his hands in it. He wanted to kiss Steve so much it hurt. Subtly, Eddie slipped his hand from his pocket and wiggled the tips of his fingers in-between Steve’s, and Steve looked down at his feet to hide his smile, giving Eddie’s fingers a brief squeeze.

His heart beat a rapid staccato in his chest and Eddie knew right then what he was going to wish for.

“Ten seconds!” Nancy announced, then counted down, and everyone joined in, grinning at each other excitedly. Five seconds, three, one, and–

A whole chorus of screeching, banging fireworks from the town almost drowned out their cheers of Happy New Year! A riot of colours burst across the sky, spilling over the untouched snow and lighting up their faces, and Eddie silently sent his wish up into the sky with them.

Steve didn’t look at anyone but him, his face soft with affection. And Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off Steve. The fireworks looked better reflected in his eyes anyway.

“Hey, can you help me grab something from inside?” Steve asked, and Eddie nodded frantically.

Robin snorted when Steve and Eddie scampered off, but Eddie paid her no mind. He was too busy following Steve through the house filled with the loud music they’d forgotten to turn off. When he realised they were heading upstairs, heat began to burn low in his belly and anticipation buzzed under his skin. He wasn’t sure if they were out of view yet, but he didn’t care, giving Steve’s ass a light smack and smirking when Steve shot a glare over his shoulder. How could he be expected to resist? It was right in front of him!

They hurried down the hallway to Steve’s room, and Eddie was barely through the doorway when Steve shut it and crowded him up against it to kiss him. Eddie groaned hungrily and parted his lips for Steve’s tongue, the kiss turning messy with their enthusiasm. He felt Steve yanking his shirt out of his slacks and flinched, gasping, when Steve’s cold fingers touched his scarred sides.

“Been driving me nuts all night, Eds,” Steve muttered against Eddie’s lips, his hands inching up Eddie’s shirt. “You look so good all dressed up, god. When you touched my neck I almost caved and pinned you to the couch.”

Eddie laughed. “I couldn’t help myself,” he purred.

“Yeah well, it was a dick move.” Steve reached Eddie’s chest and swiped his chilly thumb over Eddie’s hardened nipple before pinching and rolling it, making him whimper. “Kinda think I should get some payback for it.”

“Don’t be mean to me, Stevie,” Eddie said, but his tone was deliberately teasing even as he squirmed a bit under Steve’s hands. He loved pressing his luck with Steve, pushing his buttons and seeing what it got him.

Steve arched an eyebrow, then shoved his knee between Eddie’s thighs, pressing into Eddie’s rapidly hardening cock. His mouth fell open and he rocked into the pressure. But then Steve’s hands grabbed him by the hips and held him still, pinned to the door, and Eddie whined.

“You teased me all night, and you think I’ll make it easy for you?” Steve smirked before he leaned down to kiss Eddie’s collarbones, nipping at Eddie’s skin to make him twitch ineffectually in his grip. All the while, he kept lightly grinding his thigh against Eddie’s dick, barely enough movement to taunt him.

Eddie groaned. “You teased me too!”

Steve slapped Eddie’s thigh and the shock of it, more than the light sting of it, made Eddie bite his lip to muffle a moan. “You made it worse,” Steve whispered into his ear as he soothed the spot he’d slapped with a gentle touch. “So yeah, I’m gonna be a little mean.”

Teeth caught his earlobe and Eddie shuddered, unable to contain a triumphant grin. Holy shit, he was excited for this. He fucking loved it when this side of Steve came out to play.

Straightening up, Steve let go of Eddie’s hips to work at the knot in his tie. “Ride my thigh,” he said as the knot came free and he whipped the tie off, flinging it somewhere into the room. Eddie nodded and started rolling his hips. The relief at being able to move was almost as powerful as the surge of arousal he felt at the command. His slacks were tight over his cock but the friction was so delicious. Steve’s strong thigh kept Eddie’s legs apart enough that he had to brace himself on Steve’s shoulders. It gave him enough stability to really grind, and jesus christ, between all the flirting and teasing and touching all night, and this, Eddie could already feel his orgasm building. Shit.

And the way Steve looked wasn’t helping anything. A lock of hair had come free over his forehead, making him look more artfully dishevelled, and Steve had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, dark curls of hair peeking out. Eddie wanted to eat him, be eaten by him. He dug his fingers into Steve’s shoulders and pulled him into a demanding kiss, licking into his mouth and swallowing his low moan.

While they kissed, Steve made quick work of Eddie’s shirt, and as soon as it was gone Steve’s hands were on him again, greedy and grasping. One wide palm held the back of his head, tugging lightly at his hair, and the other guided Eddie’s hips faster. Heat blazed in his gut and Eddie’s desperate grinding was starting to lose its tempo.

“S-Steve, oh fuck, gonna come in my pants i-if I keep going,” Eddie rasped.

“You can keep going a little longer,” Steve replied, no, insisted.

“I can’t,” Eddie whined. Steve slapped his thigh again, harder this time, and Eddie’s whine went embarrassingly high and reedy.

“Might have to be a little mean if you can’t keep going. Do you want that, baby?”

Oh yes he fucking did. “Yes, yes, fuck, Steve, yes I do,” he babbled, and Steve clicked his tongue like he was disappointed. But all Eddie saw in his face was devoted hunger, hazel eyes intense with it, making something swoop in Eddie’s gut.

“Your choice,” Steve said casually. Then he slapped him again, on the same, still stinging spot, and Eddie threw his head back as he came soundlessly, making a mess of his boxers, immediately feeling warm and sticky as he gasped for air and clung to Steve.

Steve held him through it, made sure his head didn’t smash into the door, muttering, “So pretty when you come, Eddie. Couldn’t help it, could you? S’okay. You’ll make it up to me.”

“I will, I will Steve, whatever you want.”

“Good boy,” Steve said, low and confident. Eddie shivered at the words and his eager groan was silenced when Steve kissed him, taking him by the hand and leading him with teasing, bitey kisses to the bed.

Eddie’s knees hit the bed and he let himself fall, bouncing on the eyesore of a duvet and quickly scrambling to get his slacks off, cringing at the way his cum made his boxers stick to him. At least he had a spare pair here. Steve grabbed the lube from his nightstand and chucked it onto the bed, then stood between Eddie’s legs and stared, swallowing at the sight of Eddie sprawled out on his bed. Smirking, Eddie spread his legs further, tilting his chin back as he tossed his hair. Seeing Steve still fully clothed, in a suit no less, hard cock bulging in his dress pants while Eddie was bare fucking naked below him made Eddie feel electric. He wiggled a little just to ease the frisson skittering along his nerves.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

Reaching out, Steve trailed his big fingers along the sensitive skin of Eddie’s inner thigh reverently, goosebumps rising in his wake. “Always do.” 

How Steve managed to sound turned on and sincere, Eddie had no idea, but it made his heart do flips in his chest.

Steve started slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt as his eyes lingered over Eddie’s body. “Turn over for me,” he said, and Eddie obeyed quickly, getting on his knees and elbows. Stretching out across the blankets, he looked over his shoulder at Steve and wiggled his ass in the air.

“C’mon Stevie,” he urged, drawing out the syllables, “I wanna know what you’re planning in that pretty head of yours.”

“Jesus, you’re impatient.” Steve shook his head, but there was a fond smile tugging at his lips and he did speed up. Once undressed—and Eddie would never get over the sight of Steve naked, or the sheer size of his cock, jesus christ—he stepped closer to the bed and yanked Eddie in by his hips, making him yelp. “Maybe you should ask me politely,” he said.

“Pretty please, Stevie, with a cherry on t—aah!”

The slap to his asscheek rang out in the room, the sting radiating out all warm and tingly. Eddie made a short, whiny noise as his dick gave a valiant twitch. There was a click from behind him and Eddie jumped when he felt cold lube drip over his hole, then down his taint. Steve dragged his thumb through it, then rubbed soothingly over the ring of muscle.

“Count them for me.”

Eddie nodded and counted that first slap, then the next two, alternating sides each time. Steve kept massaging his hole, then pressing in gently when Eddie relaxed between each smack. By the fifth slap Eddie’s cheeks were prickling painfully, and his cock started to fill out again, hanging heavy between his legs and twitching almost painfully at every slap. He knew his pale skin must be so red.

Steve paused and brushed his free hand over Eddie’s heated, sore skin. “You doing okay, Eds?”

“Yep, oh yeah, so fucking okay,” he breathed, “green, golden, whatever. I’m so good.”

Laughing, Steve bent over and kissed the small of Eddie’ back. “Such a good boy for me, baby. Now keep counting.”

With each smack, Eddie felt his belly tighten further and further. He was so fucking aroused he’d began to writhe and rock back onto Steve’s thumb, then his fingers when he started stretching Eddie, prepping him. By the time they got to nine, Eddie was shaking, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh god, Steve, please, I want you to fuck me already, please please please,” he begged.

“I dunno. You think you’ve made it up to me yet?”

Another slap, and Eddie sobbed out, “Ten! Yes, please Stevie, I’ve been good!”

Steve’s fingers pulled out of Eddie’s hole and he sobbed again, clenching around nothing. “You’re okay, Eds, you have been good, I’ve got you,” Steve reassured. There was a wet sound, and soon enough the blunt head of Steve’s slicked-up cock pressed against Eddie’s stretched hole. He rubbed his clean hand down along the curve of Eddie’s spine, the tender touch almost overwhelming in comparison to the hot pain in his cheeks. “Ready?” Steve asked.

“God yes.”

Eddie muffled his guttural moan in the covers as Steve pushed in, also groaning in relief. And he didn’t waste much time. Eddie was loose enough that Steve’s short, sharp thrusts brought them flush together with little effort, though Eddie still felt stretched out and so fucking full. They stayed like that for a moment, adjusting to the feeling together. The way Steve breathed, heavy and quick, told Eddie that he was getting control of himself. That Steve was close to coming just from slapping him around made him grin and squeeze around his cock like a tease.

“Eddie, that’s unfair,” Steve grunted and grabbed a small handful of ass in retaliation. Pain burned deliciously under his hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie said only a tiny bit insincerely. He felt Steve laugh more than he heard it.

Then Steve started to move again. The slow drag of his cock made Eddie shudder, able to feel every vein before he plunged back in again. Groaning low in his throat, Steve said, “Fuck, Eddie, wish you could see yourself.” Both his hands grabbed at Eddie’s ass, and he jerked and whimpered at the pain. “So pretty and red.”

Eddie just whined wordlessly, and Steve’s thrusts sped up. Fists white-knuckled in the covers, he rocked back eagerly, desperate for the feeling rising like a tide about to crash over him. Steve’s cock felt so fucking good, but then Steve got a knee up on the mattress and he draped himself over Eddie’s back and the angle drove him right into Eddie’s prostate, over and over. Eddie couldn’t help the sweet, needy cries that tumbled out of his mouth as his pleasure mounted.

Fingers entwined with his. It was Steve’s favourite thing to do during sex and it’d quickly become Eddie’s too. One more point of connection, a soft gesture no matter how hard they were fucking each other, and it made Eddie melt every time. He squeezed Steve’s fingers, maybe a little too hard, but Steve just fucked him faster, the sound of skin slapping against sweaty skin mingling with their moaning.

“Steve, gonna come, soon, holy shit. T-touch me? Please, want you to touch me,” Eddie said.

“Me too, god, I’ve got you.”

Reaching down, Steve wrapped his hand around Eddie’s aching, dripping cock and jerked him in time with his thrusts. Eddie was fucking overwhelmed. Steve’s hand, Steve’s cock, he didn’t know which feeling to chase, couldn’t tell the difference as he sped towards the crest of his climax. Fresh tears sprang to his eyes, his legs shook, the only anchor he had was Steve’s hand in his and he clung to it as he moaned Steve’s name.

“I’m so close, wanna come with you,” Steve begged raggedly. “Come for me, Eddie, please baby.”

The urgency in his voice and the way Steve’s rhythm grew sloppy and rough pushed Eddie over the edge finally, gloriously. His orgasm crashed over him and he came with a choked cry, rutting into Steve’s grip as he spilled on the duvet. Steve’s forehead dropped onto Eddie’s back and with a few hard pumps of his hips he came too, warm and deep inside Eddie.

Eddie’s legs gave out and he collapsed on the bed, grunting when Steve came down with him. They both laughed breathlessly, and Steve rolled off him, lazily scooting up the bed and trying to pull Eddie along too. Though he felt like a limp noodle, Eddie gave in and fumbled his way up and into Steve’s sweaty arms. Head resting on his chest, Eddie could hear how Steve’s heartbeat steadily slowed to something calm, and could feel his own slow to match.

Music was still blasting downstairs, and fireworks were still going off here and there outside. One flashed close to Steve’s window, a shower of green and gold that lit up Steve’s gorgeous eyes.

“Happy New Year, Steve,” he whispered.

Smiling, Steve kissed Eddie sweet and slow, then said, “Happy New Year, Eddie.”

Eddie returned the smile, but it grew into something cheeky when he got an awful idea. He saw the suspicion grow across Steve’s face. “I guess we, uh… really started the year off with a bang,” he said, and Steve’s head fell back onto his pillow with a pained groan.

When they both woke up, Steve eventually managed to coax Eddie out of bed so they could get breakfast started for everyone. It didn’t take much coaxing when he reminded Eddie that he planned to make french toast just for him. Dressed in Steve’s borrowed pyjamas, Eddie blearily trudged downstairs with him.

Their friends must have found their ways to the various guest rooms, because the living room and kitchen were empty. It looked like half of the mess from last night had been tidied, and Eddie shook his head with a smile when he imagined Nancy trying to clean before being convinced to go to bed.

Eddie took up his usual spot, seated on the counter—despite the soreness from last night—and mostly out of the way while Steve got everything together. He looked so soft in the light and his old, worn Hawkins High Basketball shirt, his hair ravaged by sleep. Sighing, Eddie propped his chin in his hand as he watched him move around the kitchen.

Steve caught him staring and put his hands on his hips. “What?”

“You’re just sooo handsome,” Eddie cooed, “I’d eat you for breakfast instead.” He snapped his teeth and Steve snorted and rolled his eyes as he closed the distance between them.

“Probably healthier to eat french toast,” he said. Hands on the counter at either side of Eddie’s knees, Steve looked up at Eddie. “And Robin would kill you for killing me.”

Clicking his tongue, Eddie tilted his head in agreement. “Yep. Probably. She’d have to enact some sort of best friend revenge clause if I murdered you and I don’t think I want to incur the Wrath of Buckley.”

“I don’t recommend it. She’s clumsy but if she does manage to land a hit she can kinda pack a punch.”

Eddie leaned in and wiggled his eyebrows, letting out a low, suggestive hum. “So do you,” he said, and even though Steve rolled his eyes again he also smiled. He barely had to tip his chin up to reach Eddie’s lips, and they traded a few kisses in the quiet morning sunlight. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, his hands inevitably finding their way into Steve’s hair.

They were both so distracted that they didn’t notice someone walk into the kitchen.

“Morning, brochachos,” Argyle said cheerily, and Steve and Eddie jumped away from each other, red faced and wide eyed. “Oh shit, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt the love fest!”

“Wh-huh?” Eddie said eloquently.

“It’s—uh,” Steve followed up.

Robin peered around the doorway next. “You two done or are you gonna burn breakfast?”

“It’s not gonna burn, Robs,” Steve frowned, but then said, “wait. Why aren’t you freaking out?”

The flat look Robin gave him made Eddie snort, even if it was kind of about him, too. “You’re kidding, right? I had my suspicions, Steve, but last night confirmed everything. You couldn’t keep your eyes off each other all night, it was ridiculous. And then the whole, ‘can you help me grab something from inside’ thing was the most obvious excuse ever.”

“And you didn’t come back down after that,” Nancy said as she and Jonathan walked in. “Morning, Eddie.”

“Uh. Uh-huh. Good morning. So, hold on, none of you care?” Eddie asked.

“Like I said, kind of already knew. We were just waiting for you to tell us,” Robin said as she poured coffee into two mugs. “I gotta tell Vickie exactly how right I was, be right back. And the french toast is burning, Steve.” Steve swore and jogged over to the stove.

Jonathan pulled a mug out of the cupboard as he spoke next. “I think it’s great you guys are boyfriends. It’s a good fit, y’know?”

Eddie’s heart thumped and he looked at Steve, who turned around from trying to save the first batch of breakfast from incendiary doom. Steve’s cheeks were a little red, and he was smiling shyly. Shrugged a bit, like a question. Beaming at him, Eddie said, “Yeah. Boyfriends. I think it’s great too.”

Dividers by @/saradika and @/cafekitsune

#matchingbatbites #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #sav scrawls stuff

[finntheehumaneater]

An Ego Thing (Part 3/???)

IT’S HERE, YAY. Sorry this took so fucking long, but homework is a bitch, and I had a DND campaign to go to yesterday. Anyways—here it is. Enjoy :)

— —

Telling Steve was so much harder than Eddie thought it would be. It wasn’t just something that he could say or spit out while Steve argued with him over how fucking unfair all of this was to him—and it was. It was unfair to Steve, Eddie knew that. He didn’t deserve to feel like this because of Eddie’s mistake.

And he just needed to say it. To tell him, but that was so fucking hard. He didn’t like Steve. He knew that—it was much, much more than that—but he didn’t want to say that he loved him, because that still didn’t feel right, and it felt too forward. But there wasn’t any other way to put it that would make Steve understand.

This had made the next few days absolute fucking torture. Hawkins was small enough that it was easy to run into the same person a few times, and the universe had decided that it was exactly what Eddie needed—to see Steve everywhere. To see how he would glance at Eddie, and then look away, his face set and his cheeks red, frowning at the ground beneath him like he just wanted Eddie to disappear off the face of the earth—and to be fair, Eddie thought that sounded like a wonderful idea.

Robin hadn’t stopped bugging him about it, either—telling him to just do it, to which he pointed out that she still hadn’t told Nancy about how she felt towards her, and that seemed to get her to shut the fuck up for a while. Only for a while. Because it was torture for her, too—seeing Steve like this.

Maybe he should call Steve? But what would he even say? Confessions over the phone were a nightmare, but maybe if he didn’t have to look at Steve while he said it, being turned down wouldn’t hurt as bad, since he could just hang up and never have to see Steve again.

Then again, why did he even need to tell him? To make Steve feel better? To make himself feel better? He sure as hell wouldn’t feel better if—no, not if—when Steve rejected him. He was going to get put down. Immediately, most likely. Because there was no way that Steve fucking Harrington was into him. 

No chance in Hell.

So why even bother?

No, no, no—he was doing this for Steve. He could do it. Maybe. Probably. Maybe not. Fuck, he really didn’t want to do this.

— —

Eddie’s hands were shaking as he dialed Steve’s number, sweat making it hard to grip the phone without it slipping. The phone was old—only a few years or so, but still—so some of the number keys stuck when he pressed them, which meant he had to try a few times, giving him plenty of time to doubt his decision.

It was pretty late at night. How long had the phone been ringing? Maybe Steve was avoiding him? But how would he know it was Eddie calling? Maybe he was asleep? Maybe he was out? Maybe—

“Hello?” Steve’s voice came through, and Eddie had to force himself still to keep from gasping in surprise at the sudden loud, scratchy voice. There was loud music playing in the background, and the sound of people yelling and talking, which made it a bit hard to make out Steve’s voice.

“Steve..” Eddie whispered, and when he didn’t get a response, he figured Steve couldn’t hear him. “Steve.” He said again, a bit louder.

“Eddie.” It came out as more of a sigh than anything. He sounded tired. Annoyed, upset, hang up, hang up, hang up—

“Steve…” Eddie repeated, because he didn’t know what else to say. No—he knew what to say, but he didn’t know how to say it. Which didn’t make any sense. He was going to get in his van and just leave all of Hawkins entirely if this went poorly.

“Eddie—“

“Look, Steve, I am so fucking sorr—“ There was a loud crash on the other end of the line, and Steve sighed, muttering an exasperated ‘oh, fuck…’ under his breath. 

“Hold on, man.” Was all he said, leaving Eddie in silence as the phone clicked off. He could’ve just put him on hold. Maybe he wasn’t going to call back? That would be a relief. But it would also fucking suck because Eddie was trying to do something.

Steve did call back, a few moments later, and it was very quiet until Eddie looked around and then sighed. “This is a bad time, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. I—“ 

“I have to go.”

“Oh. Are—it sounds like you’re having a party, or some shit.” Eddie found himself absentmindedly twisting his fingers in his hair, so he dropped his hand to the side, hesitating.

“Something like that. It’s for a friend. My house is big so I told her to just…have it here.” Steve mumbled, his voice still barely audible over all the noise.

“Oh...Alright.”

“I’ll see you around, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes widened slightly and he cleared his throat. “Y-yeah, yeah…see you around.”

The phone clicked off again, and Eddie placed it back on the wall, the wire twisting and curling. 

Well, fuck.

—

tag list:

@strangersteddierthings

@different-tale-student

@nburkhardt

@paintsplatteredandimperfect

@heaven428

@swimmingbirdrunningrock

@estrellami-1

part 1 and part 2

(Hopefully I did the links right…)

Now on Ao3

#An Ego Thing By Finn #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things writing #Robin Buckley

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 28

Hello! This is the last chapter before the epilogue. I'm so grateful for everyone who's still reading this little big story. Longest thing I've ever written. It caps out at nearly 60k words. I want to thank the people who have been reading this since day one and all the people that joined us for the ride along the way.

I love reading your comments and theories. I especially loved reading the freak outs over cliffhangers and the abuse I piled on our poor boys. But I am a sucker for happy endings.

Also a little treat for @goodolefashionedloverboi who wanted this way back in part 21.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24  Pt 25 Pt 26 Pt 27

***

“Steve!” Robin called out. “Your boyfriend is here!”

Steve came running out of the back room. His grin nearly split his face in two.

He lifted Eddie up and spun him around. Eddie laughed out loud.

“Put me down, you menace!” Eddie said between gasps of giggles.

Steve gently put him down. And then kissed him right in front of Robin.

Who promptly fake gagged.

“Shush you,” Steve said. “You should be grateful I didn’t let him keep me in bed this morning.”

Robin gasped. “Betrayal! And in front of my coffee no less!” She covered her coffee with her hands as if to shield it from the scene in front of her.

Eddie laughed. “Sorry there Birdie, it was a very near thing. I had to be bribed!”

She shook her head. “Go on, get! Before you ruin my coffee with your sugary sweetness.”

Steve and Eddie just smiled and walked back to Steve’s room, hands in each other’s back pockets.

Once they got to the room, Eddie was all over Steve. Hands tangled in his hair, lips on that perfect mouth. Gripping the back of Eddie’s shirt was all he could do to keep upright.

“Baby,” Eddie whined when they finally broke apart. “I missed you so much. I promise to never leave you like that again.”

Steve nuzzled their noses together and sighed happily. “I know, Eds. I missed you too.”

Eddie stepped back to take off his shirt and Steve scanned over the expanse of his chest.

Eddie caught the look and grinned. “No new tattoos, sweetheart. I don’t trust anyone else but you.”

Steve blushed. “That’s nice to hear, beautiful. But I was just ogling my boyfriend.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, okay that’s fair.” He walked over the chair and straddled it, resting his head on his folded arms.

“Let’s get this bad boy done, shall we?” Steve sighed happily.

“Sure thing, darlin’,” Eddie murmured. “Can’t wait.”

Steve started up his gun and got to work. All the while they chatted about the lighter stuff of the last three weeks. Eddie caught up on all the shop gossip.

“Honestly,” Steve said, “if Robin doesn’t pick soon, she’s going to be in the world’s most awkward polycule.”

Eddie laughed. “She’ll figure it out. But I guess Birdie really has a thing for redheads.”

Steve chuckled too. “Oh, yeah. Pretty much always had. Except once with Nancy back in high school. But that was more a ‘everyone had a crush on Nancy’ thing then a specific crush.”

Eddie hummed. “You said you had a thing for curly haired smart people with soulful eyes. You were talking about me too, right?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Oh yeah. I’m not a subtle person when it comes to my crushes. Pretty much everyone figures it out before I do. Except in your case. I’ve had a crush on you since high school.”

“Me too, Stevie.”

“It’s about time we got our heads out of our asses, then.”

Eddie murmured his agreement and they settled into a comfortable silence.

*

Robin was still going to kick Eddie’s ass for making Steve sad for two weeks, but after hearing it from him how much he hated touring and how much he missed Steve, she forgave him for the most part. He sounded like he had been more miserable than Steve and that was honestly saying something.

So she went to Corroded Coffin’s return concert at the Nightmare Holes and cheered loudly for them.

She also knew she had to chose between Chrissy and Vickie soon otherwise they were going to have a cat fight.

But Robin didn’t want to chose. She liked the attention from both girls plus it would be super awkward if she chose Vickie and Chrissy stayed at the shop. But it would also be awkward working with Vickie at the front desk if she picked Chrissy.

It was a mess.

But then a lightbulb dawned over her head. Maybe she didn’t have to chose.

She spoke to them on their way to the club and ended up dancing with both of them all night.

*

Steve waved at the rest of the band as Eddie dragged him to his car, eager to get back to Steve’s apartment.

Steve laughed as Eddie shoved him into the passenger seat of his own car and got in the driver’s seat.

“Someone’s in a hurry there,” Steve teased.

“Stevie darling,” Eddie said. “I am vibrating out of my skin here with anticipation and if I don’t see that tattoo of yours soon, I’m might go absolutely feral. Do you understand?”

He laughed. “Yeah, baby, I hear you.”

Eddie breathed out and drove to the apartment. They walked up the stairs and once the door was closed behind they were all over each other. Hands and mouths all over as they tumbled onto the sofa.

Shirts were the first to fly, Steve careful with Eddie’s still healing tattoo.

“Baby,” Eddie whined. “Is your tattoo healed?”

Steve wiggled underneath him. “For the most part, it’s been about two weeks.”

Eddie let out another whine. “This won’t hurt you?”

Steve shook his head. “The scab is already gone. I heal fast.”

Eddie undid Steve’s jeans and slid them down his legs. He looked up at Steve for permission for the final layer of clothes to be removed. Steve nodded and lifted his hips for Eddie to slide off his underwear.

Eddie gasped when he saw it.

His thumb gently rubbed over the tattoo. It wasn’t very large, about the size of a half dollar. It was a simple heart with bat wings and a little crown.

“Baby, is this us?” he asked, breathless.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, do you like it?”

“I love it, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered. “And when my back is done, I am going to get it done on me, too.”

Steve’s eyes glistened with happy tears. “Okay, yeah. Suddenly I need that.”

Eddie kissed him deeply. “Me, too. I need you so much.”

They got Eddie’s pants and underwear off and Steve moaned at the long, graceful lines of his boyfriend’s lean body.

“Fuck, Eds,” Steve murmured. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

Eddie threw his head back and moaned. They had to be careful with Eddie’s still healing back, but they managed to make do and had a great time.

Once they had cleaned up and dressed, Steve began making dinner.

“So how did your meeting with Murray Bauman go?” he asked as he fried up the chicken for fajitas.

“It went great,” Eddie said. “Cec is still going to bring the contract to one of his law professors to make sure he didn’t miss any hidden bullshit, but yeah. It seems like Corroded Coffin is going to make an EP.”

Steve hummed. “And that different than a full record, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, nodding. “It’s about five songs. But it’s what most new artists get. The record company doesn’t want to spend a boat load of money on an LP only for the band to not go anywhere.”

“That makes sense,” Steve murmured. “And you guys are going to keep working at the Nightmare Holes?”

Eddie nodded again. “Yeah, and if the record hits big, we can renegotiate our contract with Rick to get more money each week.”

“That’s great,” Steve said with a smile.

“And you and your genius schedule is going to work out great,” Eddie said with an answering grin. “They’ll even send a car for us every time, too.”

“Wow,” Steve said. “That’s awesome. Looks like I’m going have a rockstar boyfriend.”

“A perfect compliment to my tattoo artist boyfriend.”

Steve came over to where Eddie was seated at the table to kiss him. “Perfect indeed.”

They had dinner and sat down to watch a movie. They curled up on the sofa and just enjoyed each other’s company. Like they had so many times before.

Other than the sex, they were still Eddie and Steve. They still enjoyed the same movies, food, and music that they did before they got together.

They were just finally on the same page.

Once the movie was over, Eddie pulled out his guitar.

“You ready for this, baby?” he asked as Steve turned to face him on the couch.

Eddie played the first song he wrote on the road, the one that made Jeff and the others cry.

Tears streamed down Steve’s cheeks, too. “I’m sorry you were so lonely, Eds. I’m glad you’re home now.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But I think you’ll like this one more.”

And he play the most beautiful, heart-stoppingly romantic song Steve had ever heard and it was for him. About them. And he was crying for a completely different reason now.

“Sunshine,” Steve said through his tears. “That was amazing. They both were. Thank you for sharing them with me.”

Eddie kissed him fiercely over the guitar. “Just you wait, Stevie. You’re going to get a life time of sappy love songs.”

“And I’ll cherish every single one.”

They got ready for bed and snuggled up together, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

*

The next morning led to morning sex, showers, and breakfast, never too far apart.

They were getting ready for a walk in the park when they got to witness a Robin Buckley walk of shame.

She opened the door and jumped when she saw them. “Shit!”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance.

“And what time do you call this, young lady,” Eddie teased.

Robin blushed all the way to her roots. She pulled out her phone. “Uh...11:13am?”

Eddie cackled as Steve grinned.

“And which lovely lady did you go home with last night?” Steve asked.

Robin’s blush deepened. “Both?”

Eddie and Steve glanced at each other again.

“You want to repeat that?” Eddie asked.

She shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. And Chrissy had hit on Vickie before, which lead to us talking to Vickie and once it was made clear that it wasn’t just a one time threesome she decided she was down for poly relationship.”

Eddie and Steve both held up their fists for her to bump and she fist bumped them both at the same time.

“You go girl!” Eddie crowed.

“Hell, yeah, Robs,” Steve said. “That’s awesome!”

“Where are you two love birds going?” Robin asked.

“Just for a walk in the park.”

“Have fun.”

***

Epilogue

Tag list: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #tattoo artist steve

[moonstruckme]

Steve x Wednesday!reader and the gang really didn’t expect Steve to end up w someone so different from all his exs but also low-key think she’s way out of his league??? Found your fics and your writing is sick 😋😋😋😋

Thanks for your request sweetheart! I haven't written wednesday!reader before so idk if this was too much? Or too little? Anyway, I hope you like it, mwah <3

Steve Harrington x Wednesday!reader ♡ 698 words

You hadn't been at all nervous to meet Steve's friends. Really, they probably should have been more nervous about meeting you.

You could be a bit off-putting at first, with your impassive stare and clipped, to-the-point manner of speaking. The few other girlfriends Steve had introduced to his friends had greeted them with smiles and nervous laughter, and Steve had caught Dustin and Mike whispering about just that when you'd gone to the bathroom.

Overall, though, Steve thinks this is going pretty well. Nancy had liked your giant combat boots, Eddie loved that you had the same taste in music, and when the kids found out how much you knew about mages and battle strategy, they'd grilled you for a solid twenty minutes before Steve had called them off, complaining that he was going to dream about their nerd jargon that night if they didn't shut up.

Now, Eddie and the boys are discussing the edition of their nerd game they'll be playing next week (how it even changes from week to week, Steve can never figure out), and you seem to be listening with mild interest when you turn towards him suddenly.

"I have to go home," you say, in your matter-of-fact way. "I left a potion on the stove, and its six hours are almost up."

Steve blinks at you. He should be used to this by now, but sometimes your hobbies still take him by surprise. "Alright," he says after a moment. "What's the potion for?"

Impossibly, your expression darkens. "Something ate my venus fly traps, and I intend to find out what."

Steve declines to ask what you plan to do when you do find them, or how whatever you're brewing will accomplish that. "Okay," he stands, looking for where he left his keys. "I'll drive."

"No, you can stay," you say, as if it makes no difference to you. "I want to cut through the woods to find some belladonna on my way."

He's not going to ask what you want with the poisonous berries, either. "You sure, honey?" You nod, and Steve sits back down. He knows better than to bother arguing with you once you've made up your mind. "Okay, be safe, alright? Text me when you're home."

He tilts his chin up, and you lean down to peck him on the lips, a brief, chaste thing compared to what you prefer behind closed doors.

"Bye, Y/N!" Eddie calls, and a chorus of goodbyes follow you out. As soon as the door closes behind you, every eye in the room turns on Steve.

"Steve, what the hell? She's so cool." Dustin says, sounding almost shocked.

"Yeah," Eddie chimes in. "Where the hell have you been hiding her, Harrington?"

Steve grins proudly. He known they liked you, but it doesn't hurt to hear it out loud. "Yeah?"

"Um, yeah," Max says. "She's hilarious."

Robin nods enthusiastically. "She is! She's so funny, and smart, too. Honestly, Steve, it's a good thing you're nice, because she's, like, way out of your league."

Steve blinks. Okay, ouch. This compliment session seems to be taking an unexpected turn. Up until today, no one was out of Steve Harrington's league. "You really think so?"

"Duh." Robin looks around for support, but only Dustin is nodding, everyone else having fallen unusually silent. "Oh, you guys are cowards. She's gorgeous."

"I know that," Steve says defensively.

"She does have better hair than you," Nancy says, somewhat apologetically, "and that's kind of your thing, so."

Steve blows out an exasperated breath, slouching back in his seat. He thinks you have better hair than him, but he didn't know everyone else would think that. And of course you're far too good for him, but aren't these supposed to be his friends? Any modicum of loyalty they'd had between them seems to have vanished.

"Whatever," Steve says. "You guys are just jealous."

Eddie sighs, his eyes sparkling with exaggerated infatuation. "I know I am. Don't let her get away from you, Harrington, or I might take her for myself."

Steve rolls his eyes. As if he'd be dumb enough to let that happen. He's happy to be your charity case forever.

#steve harrington #steve harringon x reader #steve harrington x wednesday!reader #steve harrinton x fem!reader #stranger things

[findafight]

i don't get why robin and eddie clocking each other is so popular. firstly i find it kind of cheap esp since it's usually a set-up for robin and/or eddie being all-knowing arbiters of lgbt knowledge while steve is clueless and dumb and not lgbt enough (despite usually being bi) to partake in this exchange as well. then it's otherwise used to establish an immediate connection between robin and eddie since they are both gay which automatically makes them besties. secondly it doesn't make much sense w what we see of either robin or eddie. like we know robin struggles w social cues and we see that that extends to sexual orientation through her interactions w vickie. also i think she is just not paying that much attention to eddie i must be honest. then w eddie he spends his time campaigning for the stancy revival while steve blatantly stares at his mouth so. i don't think he'd be good at that either. like the irony in this being so common is that steve is the person that does clock someone else on top of being consistently socially and emotionally intelligent and perceptive. idk sometimes i feel like ppl take him not clocking robin as proof he's incapable of it despite him then clocking someone later and being right, and that s3 scene fitting into the broader context of steve being lonely, insecure, and off his game for most of s3 as well as between s2 and s3. tbh missed comedy potential w steve being the one person in that trio that actually knows what's happening.

oooohg yeah i feel you anon. Not to say that all the fics that have these tropes in them are bad! it just. sometimes gets annoying? I don't want people to feel too bad about it but yes agree.

I think it really is used as a way to fast track their friendship. Truly unfortunate that it's often used to make them all knowing queer guides instead of the disaster teenage gays they are.

Robin is a small town lesbian who is only out to one singular person, she does not know anything, let alone vague little queer codes that might be happening. She wouldn't know Eddie was queer for a variety of reasons. She says herself she's not good at reading people! She's also busy worrying about if she's doing something that might out her or make people suspicious of her, so she's not analyzing other people's actions. She does not care about men that aren't Steve enough to pay enough attention to figure out if Eddie is queer or not lol. She can't even figure out if the girl she likes who likes her back is queer when her best friend is telling her. Oblivious icon! open your eyes, queen!!

Eddie had a man he deliberately broke a moment of romantic tension between his love interest by throwing a vest at his face staring at his lips and still pushed him towards said love interest. Sir. what are you doing. and once it's clear stncy isn't happening you know eddie would be like okay. why aren't you dating Robin? hmm? she's cool! and causes Steve to Suffer. (Steve was flirting with Eddie .5 seconds before he started on this please get with the program Eddie!!)

Also think it's silly that people would stereotype Eddie as Queer from how he dresses as though that's not just how a lot of people dressed? long hair was In in the 80s. Metal fashion was there. It also likely had some/a lot of ingrained homophobia in the subculture (as many things did). Sorry Eddie, but I'm pretty sure our boy Brucie did more for the gays than metallica. (Kissing Clarence Clemens Right On The Mouth Many Times On Stage thank you mr. springsteen and mr. clemens sirs.)

Steve's the only one of these three that 1) knows how to flirt 2) knows when someone is flirting with him 3) has consistently demonstrated being emotionally and socially intelligent to observe people (more than arguably anyone else in the series) and 4) has any kind of functioning gaydar. Totally agree that Steve not clocking Robin despite his gaydar is that he was way off his game, insecure, in a funk, pathetic sad meow meow era, and in a weird state of squish-or-crush on Robin, that was pushed towards crush by Dustin but slam dunked into squish by Robin coming out (does that make any sense?)

I truly, truly believe Vickie returned Fast Times paused on 53 minutes and five seconds specifically when she knew Robin and/or Steve would be the ones to rewind it. Why else would she not rewind it? when clearly they knew who had rented it and could potentially out her if they read into it? She was getting vibes from robin and knew that Steve would at least report Back to Robin (I refuse to believe the championship game was the only time stobin gossiped like they did. Vickie knows their shenanigans.) so she decided to be indirect but kinda obvious about it!! And while Robin is denying this Steve has seen the truth, he knows exactly what Vickie is doing. (would be very funny if Steve and Vickie clock each other, and then make eye contact like I know what you are. They deserve to become funky little friends while Steve is trying to get her and Robin together.)

#stranger things #robin buckley #steve harrington #steddie #rockie #robickie #stobin #stranger things meta #vickie stranger things #findaanswers #anonasaurus

[familyvideostevie]

can we get bee girl hanging out with all the girls and making steve fond because she fits right into their perfect little found family? :( love ur writing so much! this au has made me warm and fuzzy in the best way <3

this idea has me feeling warm and fuzzy in the best way! thank you for sending it in :) this is short but i think it's cute!

bee girl hangs out with robin and nancy while she waits for steve, 0.4k | no good at waiting one-shot | au masterlist __

Robin's tongue peeks out as she finishes panting your thumbnail. The dark green shines as it dries on your other hand and you admire it while you blow gently.

"I mean, that's the hardest thing about Jonathan," Nancy says from where she's sprawled out on the couch. "I never know what to get him as a present. He always tells me he doesn't need anything but obviously no one really means that."

"I still think you should get him a picture of you guys," Robin says. "All right, all done! Don't smudge them, I really don't think I can do it that well again."

You laugh and get up from the floor. "A framed photo would be really nice, Nance," you tell her. "He has so many of just you."

"That's the problem," she groans. "He never gets in front of the camera himself. He's always behind it!"

"Where is he, anyway?" Robin asks. "I thought he, Eddie, and Steve were swinging by with pizza." Steve told you they'd be at the Wheeler's by 8. The problem is you have no idea what time it is -- Steve's watch is your usual point of reference.

So you shrug. "Well, they'll be here eventually. Girls night might have scared them away." As if on cue, the basement phone rings. You're the only one standing, so you move to grab it.

"Don't smudge your nails!" Robin reminds you. You stick your tongue out at her before picking up the receiver.

"Wheeler house," you answer.

"Well, hey," Steve says. His voice sounds deeper over the line. You smile reflexively.

"Where are you guys?" Nancy calls. She can clearly tell who it is by your expression. "Is he on a payphone or something?"

Steve laughs in your ear. "Nailed it. We got held up because Eddie needed to get gas and then I dropped a pizza and then Eddie lost the van keys and. Well. I should have driven." He doesn't sound that mad and you can hear laughter in the background. Clearly your boyfriend is having fun with his friends.

"Well, come eventually because we're hungry."

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice softer. "Having fun?"

"Course I am. We're gossiping." You close your eyes and imagine him leaning on the phone's metal shell, lovesick and smiling and so, so handsome.

"I'm glad to hear it." You listen to his breathing for a few seconds before you hear Eddie yell at Steve to hurry up.

"Just come soon, okay?" you tell him.

"With pizza!" Robin yells.

Steve sighs, but it sounds fond. "20 minutes tops. Love you," he adds.

"Love you," you say before hanging up.

"That was so gross," Robin says, "and I'm obsessed."

Nancy springs up from the couch. "Okay, but we need to figure out what I'm getting Jonathan for Christmas before he gets here!"

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #no good at waiting

[runningupthatvecna]

the law of seat partners | part 2

a/n: ok so the response to part 1 of my first ever eddie blurb has been quite surprising and i've had ideas for a second part while writing it so i guess that's what's happening here now. this part is definitely longer (you're welcome) and will lead to a part 3, so no worries there everyone. i definitely recommend reading part 1 first though to get more context. enjoy and i live for reblogs and comments so i'd appreciate you leaving me some :)

summary: the bus ride continues and so does your feeling that eddie might like you a bit more than the others. also, he eats all most of your snacks and it (among other things) makes you realise that you're down bad for him. also you learn that his hands are just generally quite warm.

cw/tw: more of eddie being a touchy menace while trying real hard to make reader aware of his affection. kinda friends to lovers with eventual spice in part 3. slow burn, kinda? slapping of butts, a bit of mutual pining (reader is emotionally ... confused), mentions of eddie being treated poorly by people, mentions of eddie partaking in illegal activities, also a lot of eddie being a sweet bean. no mentions of y/n.

read part 1 here

-----

It was the halt of the bus that woke you up from your pre-noon nap on Eddie Munson's head.

His hand was still resting on your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he lifted his head from your shoulder and straightened himself.

The touch wasn't entirely new to you, since you had figured out this was the primary way he expressed a certain level of affection. Because he also was like this with the others of your group and you hadn't dared to read too much into it. At least until now.

"Looks like the babies already need a diaper change."

His mumbled comment on what seemed to be the first break on the road made you snort.

You loved the fact that he seemed to share your disapproval of having a rampage of middle schoolers sharing the bus with you on this trip.

Eddie turned his head to you, his deep brown doe eyes slowly wandering over your facial features while is mouth was lightly curled into a smile. Yours was slightly tilted towards him, reciprocating his gaze right before a familiar voice made both of your heads turn.

"Hey, you guys wanna head outside for a stretch?", Steve's pretty lean figure had appeared in front of your seats, he stood on one of the lower steps of the staircase leading out of the back door.

Again, Eddie turned his head to check on you. Because if you would rather stay in your seat, so would he.

You cracked a smile at Steve who was just now followed by Nancy, Robin and Dustin, all of them awaiting his exit in the aisle.

"Sounds good", you replied, while your friends hopped out of the vehicle into the warm Indiana sun which was, thankfully, still more than visible in the blue sky.

It was warmer outside than on the parking lot this morning, which made you decide leave any additional jacket or hoodie inside the bus. You weren't the type to get cold easily anyway. Following an energetically bouncing Eddie down the stairs, you both made your way over towards where Steve, Robin, Nancy and Dustin were gathered.

Not long after, you had the Byers brothers standing among you as well.

"Anyone going for a wee?", Robin asked in her blatant straight-forward no filter fashion you celebrated her for. It made you smile. "We still have six minutes and I've been holding it since we left the parking lot."

"Yeah I'll come", Nancy replied to her, before they wandered off towards the building together and left you among the group of boys who wouldn't have minded just stepping out into the bushes along the fence of the road house.

Steve was the only one who seemed to take the going outside for a stretch literal, because right now his entire figure was bent in half as he leaned forward to let his arms dangle towards the ground while he tried his best to keep his legs straight.

And Dustin's observant facial expression, which was slowly turning into a grin told you that he was desperately fighting the urge to playfully slap Steve's ass.

I mean, fair.

Eddie also had seemed to notice and it took him only a mere few seconds to decide on executing Dustin's obvious thoughts.

"Hey man, stop that!"

Steve snapped back up and let his fist hit Eddie's shoulder with a laugh.

"Just giving you what you don't seem to get anywhere else these days, big boy."

It left both Steve and Dustin speechless. Witty comebacks? Not existent in their brains.

You blurted out a laugh, since you knew that Eddie's remark was true. As one of Steve's best friends, you just knew.

The metalhead grinned widely, threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close enough for you to hear his low voice, while moving the both of you back towards the bus.

"Come on darling, napping always makes me hungry."

Yeah. His love language was touch.

-----

"Alright everyone, get back into your seats, we're leaving!"

Ms Kelley's voice echoed through the microphone she picked up from the driver's booth while standing in the very front of the bus, trying to get everyone's attention.

Unlike the middle school kids further in the front, you and Eddie had already settled back in long ago.

The vehicle started moving again.

"Is there anything besides being around children of course, that you're particularly looking forward to this week?", the metalhead asked with a genuinely curious tone.

"Oh please, there's nothing I enjoy more than having screaming kids around me, I thought you knew that about me already."

You pretended to think really hard for a few seconds and let out a chuckle, before you continued.

"No, but I get to spend time with you guys. Outside of school, outside of Hawkins. And I love lakes and being in nature. The fresh air, the cool water, I prefer that over any hotel room in any city, if I'm hone– ... Eddie, what are you d–"

While you were speaking, the boy next to you found it to be the perfect time to lean forward and try to reach for the snack bag you had carefully placed between your feet.

"Keep talking sweetheart, I'm listening." He had turned his head towards you, unable to hide another one of those big grins that you secretly adored on him. So much.

You couldn't necessarily see his movements, but you sure as hell could feel them. His right hand kept brushing and his fingers kept tapping against your jean covered calves and shins and ankles, pretending to be on the search for a certain bag, but the more time it took him to actually get it, the more it dawned on you that he was doing this very much on purpose.

What a fucking menace.

And by the way, where were his snacks?

"Eddie, just fucking grab it", you said with a laugh, letting him know you were well aware of the little game he was playing.

"Hm, it's quite nice down here to be honest. Could get used to it."

You just rolled your eyes at him with a smile, let your head hit the rest behind it and turned your head towards the window, while you felt the bag being pulled away from inbetween your feet.

In the corner of your eye you watched him peek into and rummage through it. He was sticking out his tongue, like he always did when he was trying to focus. You'd seen him do it too when he would be working on writing campaigns for Hellfire during lunch break in the cafeteria.

"Like what you see?", you asked him, without breaking contact with the headrest. You didn't dare to turn your head either.

Four hours had passed since you left the high school parking lot in Hawkins, and you don't think you ever spent that long with Eddie. Certainly not in this close proximity.

There was some form of tension building between you two. And you couldn't quite place it. He was his usual charming self, yeah sure, but there was an additional something to it.

"Yeah, I do."

If you would have turned your head, you would have noticed the fact that his eyes weren't taking in the selection of your snacks anymore.

You would have certainly placed his entire demeanor in a new context if you would have paid attention to the way the tone of his voice changed to something more soft and warm, saying those three words.

You turned your head towards him. And you were way too far down the road of overthinking for you to catch the spark in the dark brown of his eyes and the way the corner of his mouth slightly curled up.

As if he actually liked liked you.

But you still smiled back at him.

"Go ahead then pretty boy, all yours."

And maybe you also weren't referring to snacks anymore. But you didn't expect Eddie to catch that.

What you did notice though was him catching your compliments. The way heat was visibly rising to his cheeks.

Eddie Munson had never received a lot of them. Sadly so, due to the fact that he was known as the freak of the town. Being a nerd with a bunch of tattoos, always involved in some kind of trouble, hotwiring cars, dealing drugs and of course the town's favourite classic: worshipping satan. When in fact, he was just trying to be a good friend, going out of his way to make the people dearest to him feel good (and maybe not using the most legal methods ever while doing so), and just heavily enjoying things he found really cool. He was always just being himself.

You had to admit to yourself that you were more than curious to see and explore the effects of your compliments on him. Because you were sure that if you just kept dropping them, they would eventually help him feel better about himself. And you knew from conversations with your friends that he did need that. And most of all, deserved it.

Soft baby cow personality, yeah.

For more general coziness on a ten hour bus ride, you had taken off your shoes right after the first break. You slightly turned your back towards the window and pulled your legs up to let them rest on the little barrier in front of both your seats.

And just after that, you were handed the snack bag by the boy next to you.

Before you knew it, he grabbed both of your legs a little above your ankles (with his really warm hands, like, really warm hands) and pulled them over his thighs. It made your breath hitch in your throat.

Then he took back the snacks. Between his torso and your legs.

"Gotta set the table then, right?", Eddie flatly said with a smirk, while pulling out a box of crackers. It made you snort.

Why did he have to be like this? And why did you like him so much for it?

You ended up sharing half of the contents of your snack bag with Eddie. Seated like this, one of his hands fumbling in whatever plastic bag or cardboard box of snack he could find, holding them out to you when he noticed you going empty on your last grab, his other resting on one of your shins, while his thumb kept rubbing slow, small circles into the flesh through your jeans.

The warmth of his hand felt like fire.

Eventually you had to keep him from munching through the remainders too, reminding him that you still had at least half of the journey ahead of you.

He had pouted at you all cute, and you had felt your cheeks heat up at him dropping another pet name at you while protesting.

You seemed to keep pushing the right buttons for him to be all sweet with you. And yeah, of course you couldn't deny that you enjoyed his attention.

During your time munching away, you both even came to learn new things about each other.

There were conversations about your families, milestones of your lives, hopes and dreams that some you surprisingly seemed to be sharing, similarities in your outlooks on life, Eddie's slightly questionable moral compass when it came to illegal activities, and your shared love and passion for music.

Pretty much everything he told you was confirming or adding to your already existent image of him.

After a content sigh, Eddie suddenly made attempts to get up into the aisle (he was kind enough to softly place your legs on his seat first though) and reached up into the luggage compartment. He was searching for his own bag of stuff that you were surprised he hadn't forgotten on his bed in the morning.

And yes. Your eyes just had to travel over the stretch of his Hellfire shirt down over his torso, all the way to where a sliver of pale skin revealed itself to you and the light trail of dark hair disappeared into the waistband of his black jeans, which was tied to his hips with his iconic handcuff belt. And it was giving you ideas.

It was pretty much the first time you saw any other part of his skin other than his forearms, even though you'd known him for like, half a year now. There just hadn't been any moments yet where this situation could have happened.

You were so lost in thoughts about Eddie Munson's happy trail that you missed him catching you. Looking. In fact, you seemed to keep your eyes glued to his belly until his voice snapped you out of it.

The growing smirk on his face you saw next was as prominent as your awareness of your own feelings towards him. Just now in this moment you started to realise that if you kept this up, if you kept letting him in, there would probably be no escape. No escape from tripping over the edge and falling into the endless void of pining after him, probably forever.

Ever since you had first met him at one of Steve's infamous parties, it had been crystal clear to you that you were going to have a thing for him.

The way his wild mane had accentuated his beautiful face with his round dark brown eyes and the plushness of his lips in the warm light of Harrington's living room, his smell, a mix of cigarettes, bergamot, cheap cologne and something you couldn't make out but was so distinctly Eddie, the omnipresent leather jacket and Dio jeans vest, tattoos you'd spotted on his forearms, his entire rough metalhead aura that you always found to be so captivating.

"You know that as your designated seat partner, it underlies my absolute obligation to not only eat all your snacks you brought just for me of course, but in return to also make you listen to the best songs in the world.", Eddie explained to you with raised eyebrows, wide eyes and an equally wide grin after he had seated himself again and gestured for you to put your legs back on his thighs.

And who were you to say no to that?

He waved a self made mixtape under your nose. It made you chuckle.

You prided yourself on being a music nerd, so the fact that he was willing to share his music with you was definitely one of the most meaningful things he could have chosen to do with you at this point.

"Oh, how gracious of you, Munson, considering it was you who kept a seat for me", you smiled while taking out your headphones and walkman, which was so technically advanced that it had two plugs for two pairs of headphones. How convenient.

He let out a small, low chuckle while nudging your shoulder with his own.

You held out the second plug of the walkman out in his direction, and he didn't waste the opportunity to place his hand above yours which was holding out the device, to give it more support while his other hand connected the cable of his own.

And just when you were about to press play for the first song to fill your ears, Ms Kelley's microphone filtered voice filled them instead.

"We're going to have lunch break now, everyone! Please be back here in thirty minutes, yes?"

-----

tagged: my dear @josephfakingquinn and @ghost-proofbaby

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fluff #the law of seat partners #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #nora writes #part 2 is heeeeere #took me long enough lol #there will be part 3 #cause how could i not write about eddie eventually throwing reader into the lake #i really hope everyone likes this #it's also okay if not #wild that this all came out of me just from a very brief dream about eddie #lol #stranger things