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The thing is, Steve has got a weird taste in music. It’s not good, in fact, Eddie would describe it as the most horrendous jumble of genres ever .
And Steve sings them , like, out loud, when he’s getting dressed or when he’s painting Eddie’s nails. He’ll hum and mumble the words all low, perched on Eddie’s lap because “ it’s the best angle for this! Why are you complaining anyway? ”
And Eddie can’t. Can’t complain. Because Steve only sings when he’s happy. He’ll sing and smile and sometimes he’ll even dance, and Eddie finds it intoxicating. Steve’s happiness and his smile and laugh, they are all infectious. He’s damn radiant , and Eddie treasures every moment.
He has tried to get Steve into his music, but he’ll complain and whine about it, says it’s ‘ angry music ’ and will pout and bat his big, brown bambi eyes until Eddie turns the volume down.
Eddie’s not trying to change him or anything, would just prefer not to hear Steve sing ABBA while he tries writing additions to his Hellfire campaign. It really doesn’t help when he’s thinking up an elaborate dungeon crawl while Steve’s singing Voulez-Vous in the background.
The only time Steve doesn’t complain about Metallica or Dio is when they’re making out. Eddie’s learned Steve isn’t one for multitasking, can’t concentrate on the music and Eddie’s mouth at the same time. Eddie had pulled back once, licking over his lips and letting himself soak in the image that was Steve, all flushed and pink, and had asked, “ Is the music okay?” And Steve had had the audacity to scoff and tug at Eddie’s hair. “ I don’t care about the stupid music, s’long as you come back here, ” and how is Eddie supposed to deny Steve anything when he’s looking at him through his lashes and pulling him closer?
So he has formulated a plan in an attempt to influence Steve’s music taste. He’s thankful for Henderson who had offered to help because he agrees that Harrington's music is the bane of his existence. Eddie feels bad for the kid, because even though he has to hear Steve sing his ‘ Destrachan playlist ’, as Eddie has so kindly dubbed it, but poor Dustin has to listen to the actual concoction of songs when Steve drives him places.
Steve made a mixtape of them, ‘A god damn mixtape Eddie! ’, of his favourites. Eddie can’t comprehend how Steve was able to sit down and knowingly compiled the Destrachan playlist and had thought it was okay.
So, Eddie made his own mixtape. He added songs that were less metal, ones he figured Steve would enjoy more than Eddie’s heavier stuff. Bands like The Smiths, Blondie, and Led Zeppelin, which is a big favourite for the playlist. Songs like ‘Whole Lotta Love’ and ‘Ramble On’ (and not just because it talks about The Lord of the Rings , thank you very much).
Half way through its creation, he comes to the realisation of what it is exactly that he’s doing. He’s making Steve Harrington, former Hawkins High King, a mixtape. And it’s not just any old mixtape, it has love songs in it. He argues with himself that Henderson is also helping, because he is also suffering from the Destrachan playlist , but Eddie knows deep down that yeah, okay, he might be a little bit in love with Steve. Which is crazy, crazier than Eddie thought he was even capable of, because he is crazy and he’s aware. But what he feels for Steve is down right scary.
They are not, in any way, shape or form dating . Dating requires reciprocated feelings, declarations of love, crazy butterflies whenever you're together. That isn’t what they have. And sure, Eddie gets those stupid butterflies whenever Steve is beside him, or when he laughs at Eddie’s jokes, or when he listens so intently whenever Eddie runs through one of his campaign drafts with him. And sure, he blushes up a storm whenever Steve even looks at him, and don’t get him started on the feelings he gets when Steve slides onto his lap all sultry like, blush high on his cheeks because their after smoking a bowl while sprawled across the carpeted floor of Steve’s way-too-big living room.
But Steve is just looking for fun. A warm body to curl up with, a distraction from the shit they have all been dealing with. And Eddie is weak, so he’ll put aside his feelings for a chance to be that warm body for Steve, he’ll soak up all the attention he can get until Steve meets someone else or Wheeler finally pulls her gorgeous head out of her ass and realises that Steve is perfect and is head of heels for her.
He’s not looking forward to that time. So, instead, he fills his mind with distractions of Hellfire, his business, his music and maybe- possibly graduating this year. Well, okay, with the literal cracks in the Earth and mass hysteria, school hasn’t actually been happening. Which, Eddie realises, is actually a bummer. He’d definitely prefer dealing with school than this Vecna bullshit but, here he is.
He’s just finished adding the final song to the mixtape. He leans back against the lumpy pillows at the head of his mattress and lets his head thump against the wall. His back is aching, he’s been hunched over this damn thing for what feels like hours because he cares that little bit too much about the mixtape being perfect. Steve’s mixtape. The mixtape Eddie made for Steve. The bloody mixtape Eddie is going to hand deliver to Steve fucking Harrington, to his face because he’s sick of being a coward. He’s jumping in the metaphorical lake first this time, even if it kills him.
He should be asleep, he never gets up before 12 in the morning, but he couldn’t sleep with the anxiety. He considered lighting up, but he wants to be sober today, that’s how important this is to him. So now here he is, scrawling the title across the tape and sliding it into its little protective case.
He stands and stretches, feels his muscle pull and protest, sore from the nearly three hours spent hunched in the same position. He hears multiple pops from various places in his body, and rolls his shoulders. He had showered earlier and let his hair dry naturally, because he puts effort into the time he spends with Steve, and he doesn’t need the embarrassment of greasy hair because Steve likes playing with it.
It’s Sunday, which Eddie thinks is ironic because if things go his way today he will definitely be doing some very unholy things to Steve later. The thought alone fills him with butterflies, very not-metal of him.
He grimaces as he toes his shoes on. It’s a fucking hot day, which means no leather jacket, more minus points against his reputation but he’ll live. It also means no pockets so Eddie unceremoniously shoves the very precious mixtape into his jeans pocket.
Steve has invited everyone to his place because he has a pool and a massive kitchen with a beautifully cold tile floor. And he has cold beer, so Eddie is more than down to spend the day plastered to the kitchen floor to escape the heat.
He’s planning to get to Steve’s early, because yeah he’s trying not to be a coward anymore but he doesn’t need an audience when he gives Steve the, let’s face it, love mixtape. He really isn’t into public humiliation. Eddie is a private guy, and he wants to keep it that way. He doesn’t mind sharing with Steve though, and Henderson he supposes.
The drive to Steve’s is filled with Metallica, volume turned up to the last, because he does not want to deal with his thoughts, or the overwhelming urge to turn his van around and maybe jump off a cliff. He’s never felt this stressed before, and he’s acquired a long list of very stressful events in his life. But, maybe, it’s because he’s never felt this vulnerable over another person before. Never been as interested and enamoured by someone. Oh, and maybe the whole what-if-Steve-doesn’t-feel-the-same . He wouldn’t be as hurt if Steve just wasn’t into guys and was just with Eddie for fun, because then at least it wouldn’t be an Eddie issue. But he’s spent enough time with the guy to get the gist that he might be of the gay-persuasion, if their very intense and heated make-out sessions were anything to go by.
Besides, Eddie doesn’t want to say bisexual, because he isn’t a fan of putting a label on him. Steve probably doesn’t even know for himself. And it’s not like labels even matter in the end, as long as Steve is comfortable, Eddie is happy.
When he pulls up to the house, he can see half the windows open to air out the place and when he turns the engine off, he can hear that god damn motherfucking mixtape playing. If anything was to convince Eddie that he had to complete his mission, it was hearing Johnny Cash start up after fucking Bonnie Tyler.
He bursts out of the van and right up to the front door, full of renewed purpose. He can feel himself vibrate with nervous energy and lets it out with his knuckles against Steve’s front door.
He gets kind of invested in the little tune he’s knocking out, and nearly brains himself when the door is yanked open.
“Munson, man, what the hell?”
And there he is, the man himself. Steve Harrington, who is as gorgeous as ever, Eddie notes, with his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. Eddie drinks him in as he rocks back on his heels, and lets a smile break across his face.
“My Liege!”
He makes a show of bowing low because he just loves teasing Steve, makes him blush real pretty like.
Steve huffs, blush blazing on his face, and moves aside to make room for Eddie to trapeze through the door. After Eddie has his shoes off and socked feet tapping against the floor, he finds himself properly taking Steve in and realises frantically that Steve is wearing shorts , tight jean shorts that stop mid thigh , and give Eddie the most fantastic view of Steve’s mile long legs. Needless to say, he’s a fan.
“You’re early,” Eddie raises a brow at him and Steve’s eyes widen like saucers, and then he’s sputtering, “-not that I mind! You’re always welcome! I just, I mean, I thought,” Eddie takes pity on him, because Steve looks like he is actually sweating, and claps him on the shoulder.
“Stop freaking, sweetheart. I know I’m early,” he gives the other man’s shoulder a squeeze and feels him deflate instantly. “Okay good, because, like, I don’t want you thinking you’re, uhm, not wanted here or anything, because you are! More than welcome, I mean.”
Eddie hooks his arm around Steve’s shoulder and pulls him close, leading them to the kitchen. He knocks the sides of their heads together with a laugh, “Don't sweat it. Now, how about a beer?”
The tiles are exactly what Eddie needed and he immediately starts to cool from the heat. He lets Steve free so he can grab them beers from the fridge. Because of his socks, Eddie finds it real easy to slide up into Steve’s space. He wants to touch, reach out and hook his fingers in the belt loops of Steve’s shorts, pull him close, invade his space. But he refrains, and instead leans himself against the counter to watch Steve pop the caps off the bottles. He’s handed a bottle and is graced with a smile from Steve.
“So,” he starts, turning to lean his hip against the counter and face Eddie properly, “why are you here early? You hardly wanted my company that bad.” Steve laughs as if it’s a joke, not realising that yeah actually, I did want your company that bad.
Eddie’s hand reaches towards his pocket and taps along the mixtape over his jeans.
He bites the bullet, mentally prepared for the worst and reaches into his pocket.
“Yeah, so,” he weasels the tape out and with all the grace he can muster, which is none, thrusts the mixtape into Steve’s chest, “ ‘m made this, wanted to give it to ya.”
He’s done it now. There’s no going back from admitting you made your friend-with-benefits a mixtape. He’s ready to lay down and die. He’s kinda glad though, means he’s done his part and now it’s up to whatever god is out there to make things happen.
He’s never felt this damn sheepish before. Because Steve has a look of absolute shock on his face, even more flushed than he was before, and lips parted slightly.
“You,” he sucks in a breath, “you made me a mixtape?” Steve looks at him with wide, frantic eyes.
Shit. Fuck .
Not the response he was going for, Steve has a look Eddie can’t even comprehend and so he takes it as a bad sign. His shoulders hunch up and he raises his hands meekly in mock surrender. “If you don’t want it that’s cool,” he makes a move to take the tape back, “it’s no big deal.” It is a big deal, a huge deal actually, and Eddie wants to throw the mixtape in the garbage disposal and run. But he can’t, because before he can make a grab at the tape Steve is wrenching it back and pressing it flush to his chest.
“No!”
They both freeze. Eddie’s hand stops mid air between them, and they both stare at each other.
“You just gave it to me, you can’t take it back!”
He lets his hand drop, partially from shock, and Steve takes that as a sign that Eddie won’t be stealing it back. He brings the tape up so he can read the name written across it. He’s blushing again, and a really cute smile spreads across his face.
“So,” without looking up from the tape, Steve closes the gap between them, “you must really like me,” he looks up at Eddie between his lashes, “to go out of your way to make little old me a mixtape.”
He’s smirking. The bastard is smirking and blushing and batting his damn lashes at Eddie and he feels weak at the knees from the utter relief he feels.
Eddie snorts and drags some hair across his face, hiding, “Yeah, I uh, I do really like ya.”
He watches as Steve’s face lights up and he laughs all bubbly and infectious and beautiful.
“That’s good, it’d be a real shame if my boyfriend didn’t like me.”
Steve is distracted by the tape, has taken it from its case and is turning it over in his hands, so he doesn’t see the array of emotions that pass over Eddie’s face.
Boyfriends?
“Boyfriends?”
Eddie is still hiding, honestly he might just be frozen in place, doesn’t think he will ever move again. Boyfriends?!
“Uh yeah? Or what, d’ya wanna be all grown up and say ‘partners’ or something?”
Steve still isn’t looking at him, completely unaware of the fact Eddie is having a breakdown right in front of him. “I didn’t,” he can’t find his words, and he must sound weird because Steve glances up at him and raises his brows, “We are boyfriends ?”
And Steve’s face completely crumples. The smile is gone and it’s like the room just got darker without it. The longer Eddie stays frozen, the more he knows he’s fucking up because he is pretty sure he can see tears in Steve’s eyes.
“I, well I just assumed ‘cause we, y’know, shit ,” Steve starts turning away which finally melts Eddie from his spot and he quickly grabs at Steve’s biceps and redirects him back to face him.
“No man, hold up,” Eddie comes in closer to Steve and brings a hand up to cup his jaw, “We are boyfriends, god I’m so stupid,” he gently stokes his thumb across Steve’s cheekbone. “I thought we were just shackin’ up for fun, but Harrington I do really like ya’. Made the mixtape ‘cause I wanna be more than that.” Steve lets out a wet laugh and grips Eddie’s shirt with his free hand.
“I shouldn't have assumed,” Steve explains, “but in my defense, we go on dates Eddie!” They both laugh because it’s just so typical of them, Eddie realises. They are both the type to show affection through actions, of course they would be bad at the whole communication thing.
Eddie’s hand moves to cradle the back of Steve’s neck and he knocks their foreheads together. “Okay, big boy, new rule; Communication.” Steve fucking giggles and shakes his head against Eddie’s. “Alright, I’m down for a little communication.”
Eddie is mesmerised. Has never felt this kind of joy before. He feels like he’s in cloud fuckin’ nine right now, watching Steve’s flushed and happy face. So he does the only logical thing he can think of; he tilts Steve’s head up and meets him for a kiss. And it’s sweet, it feels like it’s full of meaning and promises and warmth. It’s chaste, only a dry press of lips but it feels like relief to Eddie.
Steve pulls away gently, his eyes are still closed and he lets out a content hum while his fingers twirl through Eddie’s hair.
“Here’s my first bit of communication,” Eddie opens his eyes and sees Steve wiggling the mixtape between them, “What songs are on it?”
“Some fuckin’ good ones, your music is shit, Sweetheart,” Steve gasps and playfully hits him with the tape. “Mean! I have good music taste!” He insists and frowns when Eddie laughs, “Baby, you were literally playin’ Rings of Fire when I came in here.” Steve tugs at his hair and pouts when Eddie only laughs louder.
“Alright, alright shitbird, next question,” Steve lets Eddie calm down from his laughing fit before meeting his eyes and smirking, “ For; My Everything, ” he quotes from Eddie’s chicken scratch on the tape and Eddie fucking cringes from embarrassment, “I’m your everything?”