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“That’s everything checked,” Nancy remarks, walking into the firelight with Steve and Robin in tow. “It's all ready to leave at first light.” Robin and Nancy take a seat in two folding chairs they had found in the RV and dragged out onto the grass. Steve paces to the other side of the fire, stopping beside Dustin and putting a protective hand on his head. Everyone is seated by the makeshift fire in some fashion, mostly silent and gazing into the crackling flames. Max is throwing bits of grass into the heat, watching them burn up, Lucas seated beside her on the ground. Erica is not far, head propped in her hands.
“Look, guys…” Steve begins, trying to formulate some kind of speech to help everyone sleep, but there is a muffled crash from inside the RV, and everyone’s heads whip towards the sound in unison.
“I’ll go check on our felon,” Steve offers after a moment, pacing towards the door of the RV. He hears a thud as he pulls the door open, poking his head inside to see Eddie wrestling with the top of a beer bottle.
“Harrington,” Eddie remarks, a grin plastered on his face. “Look what I found.” He motions to the open cooler by his foot, and the stash of miscellaneous beer within it. “If we all might die tomorrow, which feels, let’s face it, like a very real possibility, I’d rather spend my last night having a good time-“
“Woah, woah!” Steve cuts in just as Eddie begins to try opening the bottle with his teeth. “Not like that. Just-“
“What’s going on in there?” Dustin asks from outside.
“Everything’s good,” Steve responds, leaning out of the RV. “But there is some alcohol-related supervision needed in here.” Robin snorts from across the fire.
“Remember you still have to drive that thing, Steve,” she reminds him, and Steve waves her off before disappearing into the RV – only to see Eddie still trying to open the bottle with his teeth again.
“Jesus Christ, man, give me that,” he says, snatching the bottle from Eddie’s hand and positioning the cap against the edge of the low dining table.
“Hey, I tried it that way, man, and it wouldn’t budge,” Eddie protests, but one swift thwack from Steve and the cap clatters to the floor. Steve offers the bottle to Eddie, barely containing the smug look on his face. Eddie mutters something about angles and takes the beer, observing with a deep sense of righteousness as Steve struggles to get the cap off the next bottle.
“Shut up, Munson,” Steve mutters as he picks up the cap from the floor, placing it on the table with a click.
“See how I’m saying nothing?” Eddie responds, lifting his hands defensively. A cheeky grin breaks out across his face, the same grin that always makes the corners of Steve’s mouth twitch. “Come on,” he says, gathering up several more bottles in his hands before turning towards the back of the RV. “These aren’t going to drink themselves.”
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“No fucking way,” Eddie laughs drunkenly, rummaging in a cupboard by Steve’s feet. Most of the beers had been finished, their glass corpses littering the counters and floors. Eddie straightens up, holding a black box in his hands, looking expectantly at Steve. Steve frowns, scanning the box. Eddie cracks it open, revealing its contents. A pair of gloves, little bottles of dark liquid, several long and sharp needles…
“Tell me what I’m looking at here, Ed.”
“It’s a tattooing kit. Stick and poke,” he explains, face alight with mischief.
“Uh-huh. Cool,” Steve remarks, brushing past Eddie to sit on the sofa bed.
“C’mon, Harrington, you have to let me give you one,” Eddie insists, plucking a bottle of what Steve now recognizes as ink from the box and holding it up to the dim light inside the RV.
“Like hell I do, Munson. You’re drunk…” He takes a swig from the bottle in his hand, and then holds a few fingers out in front of his face, squinting slightly. “And I’m drunk.”
“All the better!” Eddie asserts, plopping down next to Steve on the stiff mattress. “You won’t even feel it that way.”
“Pretty sure that’s a myth,” Steve tries, but Eddie cuts him off.
“Listen, I know it seems ridiculous, but…I mean, this whole thing is ridiculous. I’m getting wasted with Steve fucking Harrington right now, which is only a little bit less crazy than what we are about to attempt when the sun comes up. So why the fuck not? Why not do something to mark this asinine moment while we…while we’re all alive,” he finishes, his tone betraying him. Eddie raises his head to look at Steve – really look at him. He finds Steve already gazing at him, his eyes the same amber color as the bottle in his hand, lids hanging heavy from the alcohol. In the long moment that follows, something seems to pass between them. Steve looks away, but he can feel Eddie’s eyes still on him.
“Okay,” Steve concedes after a beat of silence.
“Yeah?” Steve can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice, and he’s already regretting his decision.
“Yeah, why not, right? Just nothing too big or anything, and…nowhere crazy,” Steve warns, pointing the neck of his beer bottle at Eddie with authority.
“Gentlemanly placement, of course,” he says with a flourish. “I wouldn’t dream of putting it somewhere indecent. Not for your first time. But next time-”
“Just do it before I change my mind,” Steve cuts in. He moves to lie down on the sofa bed, but hesitates. “How do you want me?” he asks rather sheepishly, catching Eddie’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. He preps himself for a taunting comment, but it never comes.
“On your stomach is fine. I’ll put it on your hip so you can cover it up if you want to.” His voice is surprisingly gentle as he begins to rummage through the box, pulling out the things he needs.
“Yeah, sure,” Steve replies, lying down on his stomach. The softness in Eddie’s tone pulls at something inside him – something that had lain dormant for some time now. He tries to shake it off, taking another sip of what is actually some of the worst beer he had ever tasted in his life.
“Okay, so you probably know the drill. This might hurt a little,” Eddie cautions, sitting down on the floor next to the sofa bed to get the right angle.
“I thought you said the booze would numb it,” Steve comments, craning his head to look at Eddie.
“I thought you said you knew that was a myth,” Eddie retorts, dipping the needle into a little well of ink that he has created in a bottle cap.
“If you give me something stupid, Munson, I swear to god I will kick you in the teeth,” Steve warns through narrowed eyes.
“Harrington, chill out. I’ve got you,” he replies with an impertinent grin, and it’s not like he has said anything profound with those last three words, but they strike Steve’s core like a hammer, and he reels for a moment from the impact. Before he is done spinning, he can feel Eddie’s hand tugging the hem of his jeans down slightly lower, and his hand gently wiping the skin there with some sort of wet cloth. It takes Steve a moment to realize he’s holding his breath.
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The first time the needle pricks his skin, he winces, and Eddie only laughs at him. As Eddie continues, though, it starts to hurt less, and Steve starts to relax into the drunken haze coating his thoughts.
“Hey, Harrington,” Eddie says, drawing Steve out of his drunken stupor.
“Mm?”
“In the spirit of possibly dying tomorrow, and because I feel like we already…y’know…cracked the lid open on this one…I meant it when I said you are totally different than I thought you would be. Never thought I’d ever be able to be this close to someone so godlike.”
“Starting to wonder if you thought I was a total douchebag,” Steve muses sarcastically, taking a moment to reach over and set his empty bottle on the ground.
“Oh, the worst of douchebags, frankly,” Eddie replies, wiping Steve’s skin with the damp cloth again.
“Thanks,” Steve grunts, relaxing back into his previous position.
“But you have thoroughly proved me wrong, man,” Eddie assures him, resuming his needle work.
“…I wish people didn’t see me that way,” Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know that I only have myself to blame in a lot of ways, but...It’s like people don’t even bother to know me before they make up all that shit in their heads.”
“I know,” Eddie replies quietly, and Steve leans his head back to look at him, but Eddie is busily working on the tattoo that Steve can’t quite see. “Really just a couple of misunderstood assholes, aren’t we?” Eddie says, flashing Steve a smile.
“Guess so,” Steve half-smiles back at him. “So are you going to tell me what you’re inking on my body?”
“You’re going to have to be patient, it’s a surprise,” Eddie says, a cheekiness seeping into his voice.
“I don’t like the sound of that. Just tell me what it is,” Steve demands, trying to crane his neck to be able to see the tattoo in progress. Eddie just moves his hand to cover the spot.
“It’s not finished yet,” he insists, but he is laughing now, which can’t be a good sign.
“Munson, what the hell did you do?” Steve asks, dread coiling in his stomach.
“Look, just think of it as…something to remember me by. A token of this weird fucking week, and this weird fucking night,” he explains, but his ear-to-ear grin is enough evidence of his crimes.
“I swear to God-“ Steve begins as he wrestles Eddie’s hand away, but then he sees it. Inked on his hip are two letters in slightly wiggly but bold calligraphy – Ed.
“Surprise,” Eddie laughs, clearly very amused with himself.
“I am going to knock your teeth out,” Steve breathes, eyes still glued to the unfinished tattoo. In a flurry of movement, Steve flips over and grabs Eddie by the collar of his jacket, spilling the ink well sitting on the sofa bed onto the fabric. He yanks Eddie upwards until they are both standing.
“Hey, woah, woah,” Eddie tries, holding his hands up in surrender, still laughing despite it all. “C’mon, Harrington, it’s not that bad. It’s just the artist…signing his canvas,” he says with a devilish smirk. It might just be the alcohol, but Steve can feel a flush on his cheeks. “And what an impressive canvas at that, muscle boy,” Eddie adds, prompting Steve to throw Eddie backwards onto the bed.
“Come on, dude, this is going to be on my forever now,” Steve whines, twisting his torso to get another look at the letters.
“That is kind of the point, yes,” Eddie responds, picking up the needle from where it’s lying on the bed and setting it on a nearby counter. After another moment of looking at the tattoo, Steve sits down next to Eddie on the bed, resting his arms on his knees with a sigh.
“Look man, if you really hate it I can probably do something over the top of it to cover it up,” Eddie attempts, genuine concern bleeding into his voice.
“No, it’s fine, it’s…” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “It’s actually kinda funny. You’re a freak, Munson.”
“Why, thank you,” Eddie returns with mock sincerity.
“You know, for what it’s worth, I’m glad I got to know you.” The words feel foreign in Steve’s mouth, but also completely right.
“Yeah,” Eddie’s face softens. “Yeah, me too, Harrington.”
This is stupid. Steve knows it’s stupid. But he can’t deny the way his heart has suddenly started to ache, or the way that he can’t rip his gaze away from Eddie’s. One more second and he fears he might fall headfirst into his brown eyes. He leans forward on drunken instinct before his brain can catch up, his hand braced on the bed, and he finds that Eddie is leaning too, but faster. Eddie’s lips brush his before he can register what is happening, and it’s like the whole world comes suddenly into focus. Eddie’s face is searching, awaiting Steve’s reaction, but all Steve can do is stare.
“Always wanted to do that,” Eddie says quietly, but Steve files the statement away to process later as he leans in to kiss Eddie again. And again. This is stupid, but it feels…right.
“Take a girl to dinner first,” Eddie teases, his breath warm on Steve’s lips.
“Shut up,” Steve tells him, kissing him hard, hand reaching up to cup his cheek. Eddie relaxes into the touch, hands running up Steve’s arms as if trying to memorize the feel of them. The kiss deepens, and Steve holds the back of Eddie’s head as he leans him back into the bedding. He always imagined it would feel different with a guy, but as he threads his hand through Eddie’s wispy curls, their lips moving slowly, he finds that it doesn’t. When their mouths finally part, and Steve is looking into Eddie’s eyes beneath him, he feels his gut squeeze. Despite Eddie’s joking, he knows in his heart that there is a very real possibility that tomorrow’s events could go very, very badly. There’s a large part of him that recognizes the stupidity of starting something like this before they ride off into potential death, and there’s a smaller part of him that isn’t sure he’s ready to open up again – not in the way that he feels pulled to do with Eddie. And yet…
Eddie reaches a hand up to brush a strand of Steve’s hair, his eyes searching every part of Steve’s face, taking him in as if he has never seen him before.
“You’re kinda pretty up close, Harrington,” he says with a crooked smile, and then, as if reading Steve’s mind, “Hey…we’re gonna be fine tomorrow. We’ve got this, right?” He cups Steve's face with both hands. When Steve doesn’t answer, Eddie’s face pales slightly. “Right? You gotta give me something here, Steve.”
“Right, yeah. We’ve got this,” Steve confirms with a slight nod. And although Eddie looks relieved, he knows that they both know it’s a lie. Steve leans down to press his lips to Eddie’s again, because even if it is a lie and they are walking right into a trap, this moment, illuminated by the muted light of the RV, feels right. In a matter of moments, the two of them become a mess of tangled limbs and panting breaths.
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“Oh yeah, that stuff is super permanent,” he nods, following Steve’s eyes up to the black horror-esque handprint smeared across the wall behind the bed. In the midst of their activities, Steve had unwittingly put his hand into the spilled ink, managing to leave black smudges everywhere, including Eddie's white shirt. “Ah…huh,” he muses, eyes drifting to Steve’s ink-stained palm. His cheeks puff up as he tries to stifle a snort unsuccessfully, and Steve can’t help but join him as he notices his blackened palm, doubling over into a full-bodied laugh that quickly gets his stomach cramping from effort. Despite everything, it feels good to laugh.
“You know,” Eddie cuts through the brief moment of silence from where he is lying at the foot of the bed. “If we don’t die tomorrow, we’ll have to talk about this. Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington…maybe I’ll confess my undying love.” And although Eddie’s tone is dripping with sarcasm, and he’s making a dramatic motion with his arm, there’s vulnerability behind the words.
A soft smile spreads across Steve’s face, and he crosses his arms behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling of the trailer.
“I could love you,” Steve says under his breath.
“Did you say something?” Eddie asks, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Steve.
“Just talking to myself,” Steve replies, and that seems to be a satisfactory enough answer for Eddie, who drops back down against the mattress with a sigh. And he means it.
He could love him.