Work Text:
1.
Steve Harrington came into Eddie's life on the absolute worst day of his life. He'd heard about the legendary Steve Harrington before he'd met him —because Dustin seriously never shut up about the people he liked and admired, which was touching, then amusing, and then annoying.
"Steve taught me how to style my hair!"
"Yeah, well kid, he taught you how to style straight hair. You got curls and that shit ain't gonna fly."
"Steve's teaching me how to drive!"
"Like a grandma, damn it. Hit the gas!"
"Steve showed me this great band and—"
"Steve has shit taste. Put Metallica back on or you're all fighting an aboleth."
At first sight, Steve didn't live up to the endless hype, not that anyone could. Though, if anyone could, it was going to be Steve Harrington.
He was a bit scrawny for Eddie's typical (and very secret) tastes, he had ridiculous hair (that Eddie and his frizzy curls could never hope to achieve), and preppy clothes that had probably been bought at the gap like Mike's mom used to buy his shitty clothes. Not at all to Eddie's tastes, and not at all what he would have expected Dustin to like.
He didn't look like a super hero or even a particularly cool guy. However, he also didn't seem nearly as worried about the broken bottle at his neck as he should. It was a shit weapon. Hardly the stuff of legends and hardly the sort of thing Eddie imagined himself defending his life with, but real life wasn't as cool as fantasy so a busted bottle it was.
Steve stared up at him with ridiculously big eyes and perfect eyebrows and kept saying something about being cool and here to help.
Eddie, for reasons he'd never really understand, believed them all. They weren't much of a party, but they were the only one Eddie currently had and he knew enough to know it was always safer in a party.
He told his story, and the legendarily perfect Steve Harrington actually believed him. They all did, but Steve Harrington looked least likely too. He'd seen Robin in enough circles to know she was in the same party he was, and even if she didn't dress like a punk, she was sympathetic to the cause.
And Steve Harrington was hanging out with her. They were close, that was obvious, and it was weird . She wasn't going to help his reputation.
Eddie wrote the entire thing off as just another part of the horrible day. He agreed to the haphazard plan—he didn't exactly have a choice— and accepted the walkie talkie with hands that shook a little. He watched them leave, clenching his jaw and covering his mouth to keep himself from crying out for someone— anyone — to stay. He didn't want to be alone. Not when he kept hearing the horrible cracks of Chrissy's bones and all he could think of was the horrible way her broken body had fallen to the floor.
He'd watched until he couldn't see any of them, and the trees seemed threatening and unnatural. He retreated back to his shed and hid in the corner, curling up as tightly as he could and clutching the walkie talkie and spare batteries that Dustin had given him like they could and would save his life.
The hours seemed to stretch by. He kept thumbing the buttons, trying to talk himself out of pushing them, trying to reserve his batteries and keep his heart at something like a steady beat. He was failing at the heart but passing at not pushing the buttons. For now at least.
The moon had shifted through the sky, and he found himself missing the game. If this was what it was like keeping watch for the party, it sucked.
“Hey, Eddie, you still there?”
In his shock, Eddie didn’t recognize the voice for a moment. It wasn’t the peppy young voice of Dustin, or the dispassionate drawl of Max. It was Steve Harrington.
He fumbled with the walkie talkie, dropping it and missing the button twice before he managed to hit it enough to trigger it. “Yes! I’m here!”
“Good. We all made it back. Told Dustin to update you, but I think he passed out before he could.”
“Passed out?!”
“Fell asleep. Probably shoulda phrased that better.”
“You think?” Eddie released a relieved breath and pressed his head against the walkie talkie. He hadn’t lost one of his friends.
Just Chrissy.
He clenched his eyes and tried not to think. “Any updates?”
“Well,” Steve drew the word out over several syllables, “Dustin gave a dissertation on this Vecna guy during the drive back. Kept talking about spells and stuff. Think it was something about your campaign? He mentioned apples.”
Eddie laughed, and even though it was hoarse, it was real. “Lady Applejack. Half elf rogue.”
“God, you’re all nerds.”
“Says the guy talking about demogorgons and alternate realities.”
“Yeah, but all that stuff is real.”
“So is lady Applejack. She kicked ass.”
“Dustin made it sound like it was a lucky roll.”
Wait. “You do know what d&d is, don’t ya?”
“...Yeah?”
“Harrington, I’m disappointed.”
He got a laugh for his quip, and the warm sound made the dark room feel a bit brighter. “Brace yourself, Harrington,” he said after a moment of listening to the quiet laugh and trying to lock it in his ears like a favorite tune. Laughter was still a thing that could happen. And yeah, Steve may not be his type, but he was still a boy and Eddie had made him laugh. “I’m going to have to give you the rundown.”
“Joy.”
Eddie stretched a leg out in front of himself and smiled. It was a distraction, but one he’d all too happily take on a night like tonight.
2.
It took a shockingly short amount of time to make everything go to utter shit. No one was on the radio, the boat would not start no matter how many times he tried to make it, and the boys were going to annihilate him. Chrissy was never going to be avenged.
And now, with his cheek against the make out rock — a rock he had never really gotten to make proper use of because this town was backwards as hell and there seemed to be all of three gay people in it, and one was old as hell and ran the local home goods shop —he had to acknowledge that he’d once again run.
Because Eddie Munson, was, at his damn core, a coward.
He wasn’t a bard. He wasn’t a dungeon master. He wasn’t a wizard or a fighter. He wasn’t a hero. He was a coward who ran.
Dustin was coming. He’d answered when Eddie hadn’t thought anyone ever would. They were all coming, and he wasn’t going to be alone with nothing but a few stolen snacks and a waterlogged walkie talkie.
“No, Dustin, you were going the wrong way. I don’t care what that compass was telling you. It wasn’t the way to make out— Ha!”
Steve’s voice carried through the trees, and Eddie’s heart leapt in his chest. He struggled to his feet and dashed for the taller rocks, determined not to get caught in his pathetic state. He might be a loser and a coward, but he wouldn’t look like one if he could help it. Not in front of perfect Steve Harrington and not in front of Dustin.
He clambered up the rock, for once in the last shitty day managing to roll something higher than a two, and got up on top of it. Just in time to see the two crest the hill. Dustin was now side by side with Steve, and he was scowling up an annoyed storm. Steve was beaming until his eyes saw the empty rock. The smile immediately dropped away. Dustin stopped walking entirely.
Part of Eddie was a bit weirdly touched.
“No,” Dustin breathed, and then he started to dart forward with a terrified expression. Maybe hiding hadn’t been such a great idea…
“Woah!” Steve caught Dustin by the collar and hauled him back. “Take it easy, man. If he’s not here, there’s a reason.” He didn’t loosen his grip for a long moment, just holding Dustin in place and keeping him from darting into danger. Eddie watched, something a bit annoyed turning in his chest at that familiarity, only to freeze the next second when Steve’s hand shifted to Dustin’s neck, gently shifting through his locks in an affectionate and comforting way. Something he didn’t have to do, and something he did despite the others quickly approaching.
“He’s not like that, Eddie!” Dustin had said, and it occurred to Eddie as he crouched there, watching Steve try and protect and comfort Dustin to the potential of Eddie being in real trouble, that Dustin hadn't been lying.
He didn’t waste another moment before jumping down and showing himself. He made them all jump, and got a ‘god damnit!’ from not-quite-so-perfect Steve Harrington.
He was a bit cuter when he cussed. Cuter still when he acted all embarrassed about Eddie’s gaze.
He was going into Mordor, but with any luck, he could annoy Aragorn on the way.
3.
Eddie was pretty sure biting the head off a demonic bat was the coolest thing he'd ever seen. He had batted a home run with a wooden oar against his own demonic bat, but Steve Harrington had gone and taken a bite out of one and just beat the ever loving shit out of it. It was obnoxiously cool in a way that wasn't even trying.
He had bitten the head off a bat like Ozzy-Fucking-Osbourne and didn't even pause. Just did it like it was the natural thing to do. Boy had gigantic wounds on his abs — and of course he had really nice abs — and he still swung the bat through the air and rammed it onto the fucked up ground like a barbaric god. Just accepted the world had gone all topsy turvy and got down to business.
Eddie's heart thumped ridiculously once he had dismantled the last of his own bats and gotten another look at Steve Harrington standing there with his hair no longer perfect and blood dripping from his mouth. This was the shittiest game of d&d Eddie had ever played —and it was real life so of course it was shitty — but damn Eddie felt a little like his heart might have just missed its saving throw. The entire look made Eddie want to get him out of his shitty Gap nonsense and into some ripped threads and leathers. He'd look killer in the punk gear. Just own and complete the entire look.
Yes please.
Eddie shook his head and the thoughts away and trudged after Steve.
"Thanks for coming after me," he'd said, and that too was surprising. Not as surprising as biting the fucking head off a demon bat, but still entirely unexpected. Probably shouldn't have been. Eddie had clearly misjudged the pretty boy. And yeah, he had to admit now that the boy was pretty. Especially sporting Eddie's vest. It looked good on him. It looked like it belonged there.
Steve might be a popular rich boy, but he was also a confident rich boy who wasn't afraid to dive into danger. (Literally.) He was honest too, and that was just as rare.
4.
"I'm not crazy about the idea of you driving." Robin said as she leaned around the van door. The van Eddie had just broke them all into. Steve was standing all of five inches in front of her, and he looked adorably confused about how he had even gotten into the van. He was still sporting Eddie's vest, but the blood had been mostly cleaned up now.
"Oh," Eddie said, grinning a bit as he tightened his hold on the wires and wheel. "I'm not driving. Harrington's got her." His eyes shot to the boy in question, now even more confused, and how could this boy bite the head off of a hell bat and think nothing of finding out there was another demonic creature from another realm trying to kill them, but he got flustered about the idea of driving a stolen vehicle? How was this guy such a conundrum? Such an utter condrum.
Eddie might not be a hero, but he was a punk and he could not help poking things he found interesting.
"Don'tcha, big boy?" He swayed his entire body up as he spoke the words, grinning and doing a slight shimmy to get closer, simply because he could.
Robin's eyes went remarkably wide —how had she not pegged him as being on the same sort of team?— and Steve's expression just twisted all the more with confusion before going in to a sort of overwhelmed blankness.
That was not what he'd expected. He'd expected Steve to do what most boys did when they were even moderately teased or flirted with by another guy. He'd expected him to get aggressively heterosexual and possibly a bit violent. Eddie could handle that sort of violence. He had most of his life. But Steve didn't. Steve just looked like his brain was overheating and Eddie really wasn't sure if that was from the flirting or the possible crime.
The wires chose that moment to spark to life. Eddie bolted around the chair and made a wild motion for Steve to take over. He was careful not to say Steve's name, because you never used real names when you were doing crime, only for Dustin to bellow it out as Steve jumped over the chair to get behind the wheel.
Just jumped clear over it. Spread his thighs wide and poof! Over the chair like it was easy. Damn boy knew what he was doing now and how good it all looked.
Steve-not-at-all-perfect Harrington got behind the wheel and put it in gear as he shouted for them all to grab hold of something, because he was a mother hen as much as a criminal. He didn't bother with his own seat belt as he punched the gas and shot them off at top speed. Eddie fell back into his seat with a cackle as they raced off as fast as this piece of junk could and Steve Harrington didn't hesitate to add grand theft auto to his already confusing list of contradictions.
He hadn't said anything about the flirting either, and now Eddie couldn't stop his smile. These last days might have been straight from, and through, hell, but this was fun. This weird boy who wasn't a nerd but was a dork, was entirely fascinating.
5.
Eddie had watched Steve Harrington get stabbed twice in the chest by the hell bats just to jump up and bite the head off a bat. He'd then walked for miles in the upside down only to fall through a hole in reality and land in Eddie's shitty trailer, all without so much as an 'ow.' It had been one of the hottest things he'd ever seen when his own life hadn't been in quite so much danger and he'd been able to pay a bit more attention.
When the first bat struck Eddie's chest, it knocked every bit of air out of him. It was the worst sort of pain he'd ever endured. Like something had bore a hole into his chest— because it had— and was still continuing to dig into him, even though it felt like it should have torn him in half with the first hit. It sent fire through every inch of his nerves, made his back arch, and had his knees feeling like they were no longer there.
It was only the certainty that falling would spell his doom that kept him upright for any longer.
He had no idea how Steve had done any of it.
+1.
It wasn't surprising that Steve had carried his broken and thoroughly unconscious body out of the upside down. Eddie had see the boys biceps and abs, and knew the boy was strong. They weren't the fake sort of bulging muscles that were just for show. They were the sort that you got through work, and they were hot as hell. Eddie was disappointed he hadn't gotten the enjoyment of watching them in action and that he'd just been hanging uselessly around Steve's shoulders.
It was very surprising to wake up in a hospital and not be handcuffed. Superhero El—who upon meeting, Eddie had to agree was a superhero right out of the X-Men —apparently had some super big contacts, because Eddie was off the double murder charges, and there was news spreading through the town like wildfire that it had bee Henry Creel who had gone on the murder spree.
Slightly less surprising was finding Steve Harrington by his bed and reading a shitty teen magazine. The boy flipped a page, glanced up to check on Eddie, and looked right back down at his magazine before going stiff all over and looking back up with those big brown eyes.
"You're up?"
"That a question?"
"No. Yes. No? How're you feeling?"
Eddie grinned and looked up at the ceiling. He felt... "Alive."
"Yeah," Steve breathed, almost laughing. Eddie remembered and missed that happy sound. "Alive. It worked. I'm not sure when you passed out, but you provided a hell of a distraction."
"He's gone?"
Steve waited a beat before he answered and the elation thrumming through Eddie's veins faded. It had been far too good of a high to stick around.
"For now. El hurt him, but Will thinks he got away."
Will... That was one of Dustin's friends. The boy who had gotten trapped in the upside down. Poor kid. But...
Vecna wasn't gone. Vecna was still out there. They hadn't done any better than Kas. Hell, they hadn't even gotten rid of his arm or eye.
"Yeah, well next time we take him on, El can make us a gate right there. We won't have to trek across upside down Hawkins. Means you won't have to be on the distraction team."
Next time we take him on. Apparently Eddie was still a member of this strange (and wonderful) party.
...
Steve was around more often than not. Dustin beat him the slightest bit on visits, but he far outshone Gareth and Jeff.
"Told you he was cool!" Dustin said with an annoying amount of cheer before sobering up and fiddling with the blanket. "Don't do that again."
Eddie didn't have any intentions of doing that again, and he had no intention of dying like a hero or running away. He was going to live like a hero.
He did have intentions of flirting more with Steve, and fuck, it was fun to watch the boy get that same overwhelmed sort of look every time he did. 'Big Boy' was an almost instantaneous over heater, while 'Big Guy' left him able to keep talking, albeit with a furious blush and a bit more bite. (Never at the flirting, but everything else seemed fair game.) It was that way, Eddie still stuck in a bed and healing miserably slowly and Steve reading shitty magazines and talking about the horrible poppy shit that was topping the charts, that he learned more about Steve Harrington and decided he mostly did live up to his legend. Handsome boy brought Eddie his d&d books so he had something to do while he was stuck in the stupid bed—he was going to build an epic campaign with all the shit he'd learned. Hellfire Club would regret ever splitting the party again.
"I'm here to spring you." Steve said after a week, or two, or five. Time didn't mean much anymore and Eddie still hadn't replaced his watch.
"Yeah?" Eddie sat up, which he could actually do now, and grinned. "You commiting another crime, Stevie?"
Stevie always made Steve blush, and he'd bite his lip when Eddie let his gaze linger. He wasn't sure if the boy was hella closeted, or if he'd only recently learned that bi was a thing, but if this boy was straight, Eddie would eat the shitty pillow they'd been making him sleep on.
"N-no. You're out legit, Munson. Come on. I'm your ride."
"My ride where?"
Steve shrugged and looked off to the right like he always did when he was flustered.
Well Eddie had determined to live and he'd faced down an army of hell bats and survived his saving throw, so...
"How about somewhere to eat real food?"
"Can do." Steve helped him out of the bed and passed him a pile of clothes. His vest was right on top. It had been cleaned —dry cleaned if Eddie wasn't mistaken, and the rip on the back had been mended. It was now or never.
"Alright, it's a date, big boy."
Steve nodded, froze, looked at Eddie with his handsome brown eyes, and a beat passed. Eddie stared right back, smiling the slightest bit, and let it grow into a full smirk as Steve nodded again, slowly and deliberately. Just like Eddie had known he would.