vampbabe
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Eddie: lmfao i fell asleep in steve’s bed again
Eddie: idk
Eddie: do you think it means anything that steve invited me to his room to watch a gay as fuck movie on his laptop
Eddie: and that he did that stupid fucking yawn arm behind the back move on me
Eddie: and that he held me all night long while he slept and i played minecraft on his laptop
Eddie: i mean it could mean nothing right
Nancy: no wonder you’re so bad at connections
- Steve and Eddie are being stupid about their feelings. Their friends can only watch for so long before they need to intervene. (Or: The texting fic nobody asked for)
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Thirty-eight-year-old Eddie Munson lives in a small room behind the local church, playing piano and guitar for the children's choir in exchange for rent. He isn't a believer, but as long as he has a place to stay, he’s happy to let them think otherwise.
Then there’s Steve Harrington. Twenty-one and working as a babysitter for college money, Steve brings the kids to the church every week for rehearsals. He has no idea that from the moment he walks in, he is the only thing Eddie sees.
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Steve wonders if perhaps he really had slipped and fallen in the parking lot the previous morning, wondering how the hell he'd ended up agreeing to spending Christmas Day at the Munson trailer instead of lounging in the silence of the Harrington house with a bottle of scotch.
He looks up at the sky as he stands at the foot of the trailer's steps, blinking up at the snowflakes as they whirl around and dust his hair and cheeks. "This snow better knock it off," he murmurs, rolling his shoulders and setting a foot on the first step. He isn't entirely sure he's mentally prepared to spend the night there if the storm really comes as the weather forecast had promised.
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“Look, I’m just asking, okay? Not– I don't mean anything by it. But, uh.” His eyes darted back and forth, then he leaned in close to Steve. Steve had gotten used to that, kind of. The guy had no concept of personal space. “Are you flagging?” Eddie finally finished.
Steve shook his head slowly, eyes narrowed. He had no idea what that meant. He had no answer. “What?”
Eddie leaned away from Steve, facing forward again and nodding. “Okay, got it. That answers my question. Carry on.”
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A (mostly) innocent question leads Steve Harrington on a journey of self-discovery, friendship, sex, and romance.
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Polaroids. Dozens and dozens of them, glossy and pristine, each decorated with the untidy scrawl of Eddie's handwriting along the bottom. Most of them just had the dates listed in magic marker, but some of them had more jeering titles:
dec '86 — stevie's first creampie
feb '87 — getting head at drive-in
jun '87 — two dicks one fist!They always liked having their pictures for moments like this one, when they were too far away to touch the way they wanted.
Eddie's voice suddenly came crackling through the phone.
"You got them, baby?"