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lunarmoves · 4 months

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indirect continuation of this sun kiss drabble

you were being tailed for quite some time now.

you noticed by accident—a strange shadow in the corner of your eye as you made your way through the pizzaplex after hours for your nightly tasks. it was gone almost as soon as you'd turned your head to look at where it'd been. at first you figured you were just seeing things—maybe the shadows cast by the bright neon lights were playing tricks on you. maybe the late hours walking around the massive mall were making you tired.

but when you started to feel the prickle of your hairs standing straight—the burn of a gaze watching your every move—you realized exactly what you were dealing with. or rather, who.

"moon, why are you following me?" you sighed out sometime halfway through your shift, stopping in your trek to the arcade room to fix a few broken machines. hands placed on your hips, you looked up at the ceiling and tried to make out any odd shadows or faint gleams of metal. but when moon didn't want to be found, well... you could spend your entire night looking for him and you wouldn't be able to catch even the smallest of glimpses.

you waited patiently for a few moments, surveying around you in case he'd reveal himself. "moon, i know you're there." silence, complete and utter silence. you gave him another minute, then let out a huff. fine, if he wanted to mess with you tonight, whatever. it wasn't like you weren't used to it.

just as you took another step in the direction of the arcade, you heard it. the faintest, faintest jingle of a bell somewhere to your left. your head snapped in that direction, eyes moving from the polished floor of the pizzaplex to the darkest corners of the ceiling. there was a supply closet not too far from you, its door closed. you squinted at it suspiciously for a moment, then turned to make your way back t—

"boo."

you yelped—of course you fucking yelped—and swung at moon's upside-down face out of instinct more than anything. he was directly in front of you—nearly nose to nose in a way where you only really saw the redness of his eyes swallowing you whole. he dodged your punch easily, lifting himself up into the air with his wire so that your fist passed harmlessly under his dangling hat.

you exhaled harshly, your heart pounding away in your chest and your ears. it felt like you'd gotten the life sucked out of you. "you—!! gah! stop doing that!!" you huffed and straightened up to glare at him. you didn't think it was all too intimidating in his eyes.

he chuckled, a low thing that always made something in your gut feel strange, and said no more. only watched you from where he hung upside down in a pose reminiscent of a past spiderman movie. you eyed him, waiting to see if he'd say anything else. but when he didn't—his head clicking side to side ever so minutely—you frowned.

"what's wrong?" you asked bluntly. his head cocked to the left. "why have you been sulking around me all night?"

moon grumbled something indecipherable. "wasn't sulking."

"was too. what gives?" you pressed further, crossing your arms across your chest. he looked away, avoiding your gaze, and you knew something was bothering him. "you hadn't done that in a while. i thought we were past the 'stalking' part and on the, y'know, 'hanging out like friends do' part."

he only hummed shortly and turned his faceplate to look somewhere off to the side—at the door of the closed storage closet. your foot tapped against the smooth floor for a bit, waiting once more to see if he'd say anything. he didn't.

"moooon, c'mon use your big boy words." you approached him, popping back into his view so he wouldn't have any choice but to look at you. "i can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." your words were gentle like a soft, spring breeze.

there was the slightest flicker of his optics as he glanced at your face. then he made a low sound—a groan of sorts—and seemed to struggle with saying something. your patience knew no bounds, so you were willing to wait however long it took for him to spill those pesky feelings of his. but when he only fell silent once more, you decided that this wasn't going to go anywhere.

"okay, fine"—you threw up your hands and turned on your heel so you could return to your actual job—"you don't wanna tell me, that's fine. i'll just go back to—"

you barely got a few steps away before your words were cut off by the back of your shirt being tugged on. your head craned back just in time to see moon flip himself down from his wire—landing nimbly on his feet, quiet as a mouse. and then he was dragging you towards the supply closet.

"hey! moon what—" you were crowded into the closet with little flair, tripping and stumbling over yourself no thanks to moon's tight grip on your shirt. the door closed behind you with a small snap. and suddenly you were in darkness, illuminated only by the soft glow of moon's ruby eyes. you blinked widely in the hopes of getting your vision to adjust faster.

your foot accidentally kicked a bucket somewhere to your side, sending it rattling onto the floor. it was cramped in here, especially with moon's lanky figure pressing against your front. his hands gripped tightly along your upper arms. you could feel shelves stocked with cleaning supplies pressing uncomfortably into your back. there was hardly any room to move.

you felt small—overpowered. caged in with the only exit blocked off by an unrelenting robot.

you stared up at moon with what you hoped was a flat expression, his face and upper arms just barely visible to you in this absolute void of a closet. "what are you doing." it felt like you couldn't speak any louder than a whisper for fear of breaking something you could not see.

moon's gaze trailed over your face, cataloguing every feature, before it landed on— on.... your mouth suddenly felt like it was stuffed with cotton, dry and unpleasant.

"you..." he suddenly spoke up in a quiet, raspy murmur, leaning himself down further into your space. it allowed the strain on your neck to abate slightly. "you and sun..." you slowly nodded your head, maybe as a way to encourage him to continue when it was obvious how hesitation lined his voice. "...you gave him a kiss."

your heart picked up its pace, thrumming in your ears. you did give him one some time ago—saved only from his strange pestering when the daycare's lights had switched off and you were able to escape during his painful-sounding transformation into moon. you hadn't seen him since, too rattled by his intense insistence. it made you feel... weird. "i did. and?"

"i... would also like one." the words came out in a rush—like he was forcing them out in a hurried exile.

something burned ferociously at the sides of your face and neck. you wondered if he could hear how erratic your pulse was. you hoped not.

"is that why you forced us into this dinky closet?" you whispered, refusing to let yourself sound anything but casual. like his request wasn't causing something torrential to swarm around in the pit of your stomach. you were suddenly reminded that their dual A.I.s allowed them both to see what was happening no matter who was in control. that moon had been watching sun demand a kiss from you before. and that sun was watching now.

you swallowed heavily and moon's gaze followed the bob of your throat in a manner that made you suppress a shiver.

"yes," was his simple, hushed reply. closer and closer, his face was but a hair's breadth away from your own.

your breaths bated. you closed your eyes for a short moment in a vain attempt to collect yourself. his request was simple. you didn't need to make a big deal out of it. it was just a kiss, and he was just a robot. it didn't mean anything. the words became a mantra in your head.

you exhaled, low and slow. "okay." an agreement that weighed more than you realized at that moment.

curiosity is not a sin, you reminded yourself. but yet— you were being forced to face something you knew would have repercussions. you only hoped it wouldn't be anything strong.

after bolstering yourself with as much courage as you could, you raised yourself up on your tiptoes to close that minute distance between you and moon. to press a gentle kiss to his forehead and hope that it would be enough for him.

but moon— moon had learned from sun.

and before you could realize what he was doing, he shifted himself forward in a rather fluid manner—towards you. so that your lips would land soundly in the middle of his static smile instead of where you'd intended. something leapt up in your chest.

you weren't sure what you'd expected. fireworks and confetti? the soft plushness of another person's lips pressing back against yours? had your mind been tricked into thinking it would be something familiar with his facsimile of a mouth? but no, there was just the cool solidness of a metallic smile. it was like kissing a wall—immovable and unyielding.

and yet... and yet it wasn't.

for the grip moon had on you was tight. tight tight tight. unwilling to let you go. his hands had shifted so that one pressed hotly (hotly? your hazy mind registered distantly) against the small of your back while the other wrapped around your shoulders. and he held you so fervently. like he could press you into him and meld you both into one. like he was scared to ever let you go.

and that was enough, you think, as you lose yourself not to a kiss, but to a hold. that was enough.

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stevebabey · 1 year

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no one asked but this is the post that inspired this! thank u immensely for the luv <3 number 1 comment was wondering what steve’s bids were & from his pov, so without further ado...enjoy — part one here!

—

Begrudgingly, Eddie has to admit that Robin might be right.

It’s impossible not to be looking for the bids since he brought them up to her. Even though Eddie was fully expecting to tell Robin to suck it, maybe even wager what little money he had against this working out, Eddie can’t help but watch for them in every interaction. And fuck, she’s right.

They’re little, but they’re there.

The first one Eddie would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Actually, that’s a lie; Eddie does miss it, until Robin points it out, the nosy bitch. It’s minuscule and honestly, it just seems like Steve asking his opinion — which friends do all the time! It’s why Eddie brushes right over it.

“Okay, be honest,“ Steve had said, walking and talking as he entered the living room where Robin and Eddie were sprawled across the couches. They were both waiting on him, the three of them set on heading out to the drive-in to catch a film.

Eddie can’t fathom why Steve felt the need to change his outfit for it, but when he returns, he gets it. It’s not quite the usual polo Eddie had grown to like on Steve, this one hanging a little looser, the colour a bit darker than Steve’s usual choice, the sleeves a little shorter — almost midway to a muscle tee.

Steve’s fingers fiddle with the distressed collar of the shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles and fussing over nothing. He swishes back his floppy hair with a flick of his head. “It’s a new shirt, I know it’s a little different - but what do we think?”

He says we but he’s looking at Eddie.

Eddie, who has taken to trying to reel in his gawp because what the fuck Steve? It’s like he’s well aware of what drives Eddie insane and has specifically leaned into it. Some evil goblin in Eddie’s brain whispers think how good he’d look in your shirt and he squashes it, giving a visible twitch to shut down that train of thought.

From the other couch, Robin clears her throat loudly and smiles sweetly at her best friend. “It looks great, Steve.”

It’s sincere and Steve’s mouth tugs up, nearly a smile but his gaze fast-tracks back to Eddie. Eddie nods in agreement, a bit sluggish from his distracting thoughts and god dammit, the extra exposed skin of Steve’s arms are so not helping. “Yeah, looks... looks good, man.”

Steve smiles, lips pressed together but his shoulders curl in just a bit, deflating just a tad. From where Steve can’t see her, Robin waves her hands wildly and catches Eddie’s attention. He watches as she gestures wildly and it takes a moment to realise what’s she mouthing — ‘A bid! That’s a bid, you idiot!’

Oh fuck, Eddie thinks. Cos it totally was; the question, the focus on Eddie. He doesn’t even think about the logistics of it, of the fact Robin was right, just jumps right into picking up the bid.

“You trying a new style?” Eddie asks and then thanks whatever god invented the whole fake-it-to-you-make-it schtick because he’s feeling so far from casual or confident. “Going metal on me, big boy?”

Eddie just manages to catch the grin that breaks across Steve’s face as he turns away, giving a scoff — it comes out too soft though, giving away his complete lack of annoyance. He pulls that usual Steve Harrington pose, hands sliding onto his hips, and screws his face into some melted smiley-grimace. “Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie grins and goads on the blush that’s beginning on Steve’s neck, a glorious tinged pink colour. “If this shirt is any indication, you’d pull it off just fine.”

Eddie watches the blush climb higher as Steve ignores the comment, his smile still giving him away. He grabs his coat and pats down his jeans — ridiculous tight acid wash jeans that Eddie hates he’s somehow become attracted to — ensuring he has his keys and wallet. Once assured, he looks up at his two friends again, brows raised, and says, “Ready to rock and roll?”

That comment alone has Eddie seriously reconsidering his type in men.

There’s only a brief moment to talk about it when Eddie and Robin cajole Steve into going and getting them both popcorn to get a moment alone. Steve had scoffed, face twitching in the way it did whenever he tried to hold back a bitchy comment, but he still stomped off in the direction of the snack stand.

The moment he’s out of earshot, both voices explode in the back of Eddie’s van.

“What did I say—”

“Jesus H Christ, you were right—”

“Literally how many times do I have—”

“Oh my god, you were right—”

“ —before you realise I’m always—”

“Robin.” He cuts her off, hands landing on her shoulders. Robin eyes them warily, lips still parted from how her rant had been cut off. “Robin, I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” Robin’s nose scrunches up. “What the hell are you—”

“Oh Christ, I can’t believe- how long have you noticed those bids?” Eddie’s aware he sounds a bit estranged, eyes probably wide and it doesn’t help when he softly shakes Robin back and forth. She lets herself be shaken, hair flying back in forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You are such a bad gay friend!”

Robin smacks his hands off her shoulders with a frown, her freckly face perturbed at Eddie’s outburst. “Dude, it’s not my fault! May I remind you that until very very recently you were seeing someone else? What difference would it have made?”

Eddie waves his hand, disregarding the point with a shake of his head. His unkempt curls cover his face and Eddie sweeps them back in one motion, “What difference would it have made? Oh my, Jesus—“

Whatever long-winded sentence Eddie was about to spit out is lost by the sound of Steve’s approaching footsteps, effectively shutting both of them up.

Eddie flings himself to the other side of the van, putting an unusual amount of distance between Robin and him like they were being caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Robin frowns at him and gestures wildly with her hands in a way that means what the fuck man? Eddie gestures back, though he’s not entirely sure what his fast hand motions are supposed to mean when Steve rounds the door.

He’s got two buckets of popcorn tucked under each arm and Eddie quickly crosses his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits like his stupid hand motions will somehow give him away.

Steve looks up, stopping just a way from the edge of the van, and looks at the pair of them. His eyes track from Robin still sitting on one of the old cushions and looking two seconds from burying her face in her hands, across to Eddie. He huffs a laugh and kneels on the edge of the van.

“I know he’s gross Robin,” He begins, tone light, as he holds out one of the buckets for Robin to take. “But c’mon, is the distance really necessary?”

Robin snickers as Eddie makes an appalled noise, both of which make Steve smirk. He holds out the other for Eddie to take and Eddie snatches it, glaring at him over the buttery rim for his comment. Then takes a handful and shovels it in because he can’t think of a witty comment to retaliate. Steve crawls into the van and plops himself between them with a content sigh.

“See? Gross.” He teases, shoving his hand into Eddie’s popcorn bucket to grab a handful. Eddie scowls and chews a little faster when the flavour on his tongue seems to register in his brain.

His eyes stare at the popcorn bucket as he chews, then swallows — up the front of the van, the radio that’s tuned into the correct frequency begins playing the opening credits song as the screen changes. Silence sweeps across the drive-in but despite the sudden hush, Eddie has no qualms about breaking it.

“Sweet n’ salty flavour?” He asks Steve, only half attempting a whisper. Robin shushes him instantly, her focus already on the movie that’s beginning. Steve smiles, looking a bit sheepish beneath the glow of the drive-in screen, but he nods.

“I know you like it.” He whispers with a small shrug of his shoulders. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Fuck, Eddie thinks again and hastily feeds himself another handful of popcorn before he says anything majorly stupid in response to that, like: Oh, amazing- have you noticed the big fat crush I have on you as well?

He doesn’t even need to look at Robin to know she’s smiling, smug as ever.

—

Steve, God bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Steve likes Eddie. Eddie is— god, Eddie is different but he’s good.

He’s this strange amalgamation of traits that Steve can’t comprehend how they fit together in one body or how Eddie manages to pull it all off completely charmingly.

He’s loud, he says rude things, he’s fucking dorky, and far too sweet on the kids — he likes to tease Steve, and yet somehow, when Eddie calls him ‘pretty boy’, Steve knows he’s not actually making fun of him.

Steve likes Eddie, likes his boyishly endearing charm, likes his touchiness towards Steve that no other boy his age is like, likes his messy curls and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude about metal music even though Steve doesn’t get it, like at all. And fuck, Steve really wants Eddie to like him.

It reminds him faintly of when he first started working alongside Robin at Scoops. That thought tickles in the back of his mind, something along the lines of how he had wanted Robin to like him for other reasons, but he doesn’t delve into it.

To Steve, it’s simple: he just wants Eddie to like him.

After the night at the drive-in, between Eddie acting strangely skittish and Robin giving more amused snorts than usual, Steve knows something is up.

He knows they must have discussed something when they sent him on popcorn duty, the bastards. He tries his best to not feel left out; god knows Robin and he have more than a dozen secrets they’ve sworn not to tell anyone but each other.

Besides, Steve trusts Robin to come and tell him if he really needs to know, even if it does worry him a bit. He bites down his anxious thoughts, even trying for a moment to see if there’s a pattern he’s been missing.

That train of thought gets derailed when Steve recalls instead Eddie’s delightful reaction to his new shirt — that Steve definitely hadn’t bought for that specific reason.

Even though Robin had given him that look when he’d first shown it to her — her bright eyes had narrowed, her smile turning a little more coy, and Steve had felt his ears get a little hotter. She hadn’t said anything though, just suggested that he should wear it tomorrow night when they were going out with Eddie.

God, he was glad she suggested it.

Rewinding over Eddie’s parted lips, the way his brown eyes had drank in the details as they trailed up his body and lingered on his arms— Steve had the sudden thought to flex the muscle, just to elicit some reaction, but it had gone out the window at Eddie’s original dismal reaction.

‘Yeah, looks... looks good, man’. Said all aloof, like he hadn’t really thought it. It was like bursting a balloon hidden behind Steve’s ribs, one he wasn’t even aware was there until it was deflating pathetically, making his shoulders sag.

Then— ‘You trying a new style? Going metal on me, big boy?’ And dammit, it’s like Eddie had clocked exactly what calling him ‘big boy’ had done the first time in the Winnebago.

Eddie had then grinned, done another once over of the new shirt, even as Steve pretended to search for his keys and wallet while saying something snarky to try to cover up the heat crawling up his neck. Yet, Steve found himself smiling too because, fuck yes, Eddie liked it too.

But, apparently, whatever Eddie and Robin had discussed wasn’t considered important enough because Robin never brought it up.

The thought and worry about it melt away in Steve’s mind until the memory of that night is about Eddie’s compliment, about his cat-like grin over the popcorn bucket, and how he had leaned over to whisper every bad joke into Steve’s ear all through the movie.

Some of them had been down-right filthy jokes which Eddie only seemed to enjoy more when Steve screwed his face up and nudged Eddie in the ribs, yet unable to hide his smile.

After the third vulgar joke and subsequent nudge, Steve had chided ‘dude’ with a poorly hidden grin. Eddie, smile all cheeky, had nudged him back with a ‘dude’ of his own.

Which, of course, ensued a nudge competition til Robin had given a shush that librarians all over the world would be jealous of. But Steve didn’t even care because he and Eddie were arm to arm, pressed close together and Eddie…didn’t move. Stayed close, like he wanted the closeness the same way Steve did.

Steve only remembers the strange drive-in moment when Robin brings it up finally, on one interesting Saturday night.

It’s not the usual routine; it’s not very often that the whole group gets together to share drinks and get rowdy.

But it was for Robin’s birthday and she’d been persuasive enough to get even the introverts, like Jonathan, to come along. Though, she was aware he’d probably spend the night on a pool lounger, stoned to high heaven. Whatever floats your boat, she’d said, happy for the company in any form.

There’s enough of them there that it almost resembles some sort of party— and makes Steve try not to think about the last small party he threw here. He can tell Nancy notices it too, eyeing the pool a bit too long in a way he’s very familiar with, then taking a swig of beer.

So, Steve heckles them inside — doing a fantastic mothering impression as he waves the group indoors with a promise of pizza, and that has both Jonathan and Argyle perking up and beginning a fast discussion on the best pizza toppings.

Eddie makes a fuss, because of course he does, and moans terribly when Steve tries to roll him off the pool lounger he’s on. He’s had a bit of a joint and some beer, and Steve’s learned that he gets adorably stubborn after some substances.

“Stevie, this is mean,” he had pouted, gripping the edges of the lounger and staring up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “You telling me I did all that bonding with you for nothing? Can’t even lounge by the pool! I’ve got a couch at homeeeee.”

Steve had sent him an amused look of disbelief, hands on his hips after his first round of flicks against Eddie’s arm were apparently fruitless to get him to move. “Really? Didn’t peg you for a gold-digger, Eds.”

Eddie had snorted at that, one hand coming to slap over his mouth. Steve couldn’t quite hear what he had said but the words pegging and anytime slipped through and Steve thinks he could get the gist of that.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Steve muttered, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. He didn’t know how Eddie could be such a menace— or why he enjoyed it so much when he was. Steve waved a hand in the direction of the doors, ignoring Eddie’s delighted snickering. “If you go inside now, you can be on music, alright?”

And that had finally got them all indoors, Eddie whooping and skedaddling through the doors in an instant, with a call of ‘no take backsies!’ echoing behind him.

Inside was much cozier, the whole group a little more connected when squished up on the couches together. Eddie had taken Steve’s word and was jamming a cassette into one of the speakers when Steve made it back inside after scouting around the pool for leftover cans and butts to throw out.

He’s just been thinking about what playful jab he could make at Eddie’s music, like Eddie always did to him when Robin hollered at him from the kitchen.

“Steve!” She’d yelled excitedly and he come to find her quick, brows raised as he entered the kitchen. She was grinning, already a bit jumpy as she got when she had a bit of liquor — but apparently not enough because when Steve saw what she’d called him in for, she’d announced, “Tequila shots!”

Which lead to now. A hazy combination of beer, tequila, and a bit of weed, and Steve is feeling good. Robin had managed to hijack the music not too long ago, with a hiccup of ‘it’s my birthday’ that had Eddie surrendering with a pout.

She’d since put on a bit of everything: some Blondie for Nance, Talking Heads for Jonathan, and some Bowie, just so she and Steve could dance along to ‘Magic Dance’ and she could do all the silly little goblin voices that made them both cackle.

Steve realised at some point that Robin was playing their mixtape, the one she’d made for driving in the morning, and nearly tripped stumbling over to her in his excitement. He grabbed her shoulders, not too hard, and squeezed.

“Is it- is this our mixtape?” Steve asked, words slurring only a bit. Robin gleamed, hair bouncing with her excited nod.

“Yes!” She was already dancing, even though the tape was between songs — because she knew what song was coming. “It’s Springsteen time, Steve!”

Right as the drums to Born to Run filtered out the speaker.

And oh, Steve loves Robin so much. He loves having a best friend that knows his favourite song and gets jittery and excited because she knows it’s about to play— that she put it on this mix for him.

“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, the words bursting out like he can’t control them. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed, just happy, just drunk, and overwhelming happy to be able to have this.

And even though Robin knows this, she still beams, feet dancing along and just begins to sing along with the song, “In the days, we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream…”

It’s a brazen drunken performance from the both of them. Steve’s chest is heaving after just one chorus that he’s pretty sure he put his whole soul into and he’s so fucking happy —and it feels like pure instinct to seek out Eddie, his eyes scouring the room for him.

Eddie’s leaned up against the wall, hiding his smile behind a can and Steve doesn’t think twice about it— doesn’t think about why he’s so drawn to Eddie, why he wants to include him in this happiness — just extends his hand out and grins.

Eddie sees the bid coming this time.

Part Three.

—

yes i saw all ur lovely tags and MAYBE cried about it. but thats none of ur business.

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