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Steve is idling his car in front of Max’s trailer, having insisted on watching her walk to the trailer safely, much to her moody protests against it. He watches as she quickly stomps off and unlocks her door with a half-hearted middle finger flipped in Steve’s direction. Steve just smiles and waves cheerily back to her, only resisting the urge to honk the horn at her due to it being so late at night. A rap on his window makes his stomach lurch as he whips around, wide-eyed, only to be met with Eddie Munson’s wicked smile. This causes his stomach to lurch for a whole other reason. A reason only Robin and Steve, and Steve barely at that, are aware of. He takes a breath, flicks his hair, and winds the window down with a cool smile.
“Munson,” he greets, failing miserably to scrape the shaky affection from his tone.
Eddie leans his arms against the roof of the car, peering down into the window to properly smile at Steve, “Hey Stevie, you visiting me?”
“Drop off,” Steve huffs, nodding to Max as she disappears into the trailer.
“Uh huh,” Eddie quirks his eyebrows expectantly, curls blowing across his fringe in the nightly breeze. He looks at Steve carefully for a moment, eye skimming around before locking with Steve’s, “wanna get high and watch The Blob?” He offers, almost like a challenge.
Steve just stares at him, processing the bizarre proposal. Eddie Munson. The fucking Blob. Weed. 11 pm at night. When the fuck had that became something Steve is solidly considering accepting? And yes, maybe it has something to do with the soft, excited look in Eddie’s wide brown eyes or the way he plays with the soft curls of his hair when he’s feeling shy or concentrating. And maybe it also has something to do with Steve’s deep-buried need to know what Eddie’s up to, to know where he is. Or maybe there was something simply hypnotic about the way Eddie carries himself, the way he dresses and talks. It affects everyone. Steve thinks it affects everyone. Steve feels himself zone out a bit, appreciating the way Eddie’s narrow hips lean, twisted slightly, as he holds his body casually against the side of his car. His black, ripped jeans snug on his thin hips, grey t-shirt lose and soft looking. Because, you know, he looks cool, he has like a cool, uh cool, laid back energy is all, Steve simply admires the skill to come across that way. Yeah. That’s it.
“Yeah, sure man,” Steve agrees, cutting the ignition. Eddie grins, all smug and content, and pushes away from the car to let Steve get out. Steve trails Eddie to his trailer, being escorted inside with a welcoming wave and bow.
“Welcome to the Munson residence once again Harrington, it’s always a pleasure!” Eddie beams, well knowing that the last time Steve was here, they’d all almost died.
Steve just lets out a small, sarcastic laugh, “Oh, for sure.”
Eddie smirks back at him and snags him by the hand, “this way,” he says, like Steve doesn’t fucking know where Eddie’s bedroom is in the three-room trailer, he’s been to several times before. Steve doesn’t dwell on the specifics too much, he would if he could, but about 90% of his brain has now been swamped by the touch of Eddie’s hand against his, the coolness of his silver rings pressing into Steve’s fingers and just- Eddie. The remaining 10% of his brain is autopiloting him to follow helplessly along as Eddie drags him to his room.
“Tada, welcome to paradise!” Eddie drops Steve’s hand to dramatically present the crowded bedroom to Steve with both hands outstretched. He immediately jumps to rummaging through an overflowing shelving unit. Steve just stands there, near the doorway, and admires Eddie’s bedroom. It’s the first time he’s properly been able to have a look around, you know, with no life or death situations going about, and honestly, it’s cool as hell. There are posters and sketches pinned up on the walls, an array of band posters and doodles and damn, Steve realizes, Eddie’s pretty good at drawing. There’s an actually wooden milk crate of vinyls in one corner with a worn-looking record playing on the self above it. Steve eyes Eddie’s leather jacket on top of a dark pile of clothes stacked around the end of his bed, his bed looks snuggly, Steve smiles to himself softly thinking of Eddie curled up in the gentle morning light and… shit, maybe getting high and watching The Blob at 11 pm at night alone with Eddie Munson wasn’t a great idea.
“Here she is, Stevie,” Eddie announces excitedly, from where he is, crouching on the floor with a matchbox car carry case. Steve looks at him oddly. “My personal collection,” Eddie clarifies with a grin, cracking the box open to reveal neatly stored packets and whatnot in the little car slots. Steve can’t help but smile at the few little toy cars along with the mix. Eddie wiggles his fingers and browses the rows dramatically before pulling out a clear bag of pre-rolled joints from one of the sections. “The best of the best, baby.” Eddie grins, taking two and tucking one behind his ear. He snaps the box shut and jumps up, ambling over to where Steve is still standing pathetically and presenting the joint to Steve as though it was a sword; his arm extended and with a slight bow.
“Ladies first.”
Steve breaths out a laugh, more so from nerves than humour, and takes the joint from Eddie’s hand, his gaze transfixing on soft fingers and glinting silver rings, and places it between his lips absentmindedly. Eddie is suddenly all up in Steve’s face, lighter flipped out and hand cupped around the flame as he lights the joint. Steve almost forgets to inhale and then inhales way too fast, feeling a burn at the back of his throat as he suppresses a cough. Eddie just gives him a curious look before smiling again and tugging on the hem of Steve’s shirt.
“Well, come on then, take a seat, Harrington.”
Steve lets Eddie guild him over to... to his bed. Fuck, wait. Steve eyes the TV propped up on the opposite side of the room. Right, yeah. Of course. Watching movies in Eddie’s room. On Eddie’s bed. Not like there was a lounge room a wall away and all. But you know, that’s totally normal, he watches movies in Robin’s room all the time. Eddie sits Steve down on the bed, warm hands burning through Steve’s shirt, and stands over him for a moment, taking the joint from Steve’s lips and taking a few drags, blowing smoke up to the ceiling. Steve just stares up at him, admiring, no, noticing the solid cut of Eddie’s jaw.
“So, The Blob?” Steve hears himself blurt out.
Eddie looks back down at him, offering the joint back up to him, “Honestly, it was the first movie I thought of that I knew I had.”
“Oh no, I’m definitely holding you to a screening of The Blob.” Steve challenges playfully, taking another toke and already feeling spacey. Shit, it’s been a while.
“Well then, I hope you like the 50’s version,” Eddie grins, finally moving back from Steve, giving his heart a second to get it’s shit together. Eddie turns to his bookcase and flicks a finger across the spines of his VHS collection, “ya know, I think some of these are overdue.” Eddie laughs, shyly presenting a Family Video copy of The Blob.
Steve eyes him, trying not to smile, “oh no, don’t even think I’m getting you out of your late fees.”
Eddie holds a hand over his heart like he’s been struck, “Aw, that’s harsh, sweetheart, why do you think I keep you around?”
Steve fake gasps back at him, “I knew it! Seducing me out of Family Video fees.”
Eddie tilts his head down at Steve and smirks at him mischievously, eyes alight, “Oh, I’m seducing you, am I? Is it working?” He wiggles the VHS in his hands.
Yes. Steve smiles tightly and tuts, shaking his head in mock disappointment, adamantly ignoring the warmth in his chest, and fluttering in his stomach. “Not a candle in sight, Munson. A tragic attempt, really.”
“I’ll get ya next time,” Eddie promises, his intense gaze making Steve want to squirm. Luckily, Eddie turns away first to load up the movie. Steve slumps back onto the bed and takes a couple of low drags, focusing in on his breath and the flow of smoke in and out of his lungs. Eddie sets up the movie and ambles back over to flop himself on the bed, propping himself up against the wall. This makes Steve’s vision become filled with Eddie once again, so he matches Eddie’s position, legs folded out in front of him and back leaning into a pillow cushioned up against the wall against the side of the bed. Eddie folds one knee up to the side and rests it against Steve’s leg, Steve marvels at how casually Eddie manages to just touch people like that, Steve can barely think of making contact with Eddie without feeling like his hands were shaking. The weed was already making him hazy, and the warmth of Eddie’s knee pressed into his thigh was almost burning. Seemingly transfixed on Eddie, Steve felt himself leaning into his orbit, Eddie has like some mad gravitational pull, or some shit and Steve always finds himself leaning and crowding into his space like a damn sunflower to the fucking sun. Eddie makes a twiddling hand movement over to Steve and Steve thinks blankly about holding his hand before realising he’s asking for the blunt. Steve passes it over and slouches into Eddie's space, making sure his eyes don’t stray from the TV. He feels Eddie twitch next to him as their shoulders graze and can peripherally see him glancing in Steve’s direction.
Eddie won’t stop fucking giggling every time the blob kills someone, the red gunk on the screen slopping around with its terrible special effects. Steve finds himself laughing warmly along cause Eddie’s laugh is intoxicating and honestly, yeah watching this movie high is truly hilarious.
“Just walk away from it! It’s so slow, aw man,” Eddie exclaims in amusement as the nurse clambers around, doing absolutely nothing helpful to escape.
Steve snorts, “It looks like jam.” Eddie turns and is laughing into Steve’s shoulder, hair soft against Steve’s neck and fuck since when were they sitting that close together?
Eddie leans back and crinkles his nose cutely, “Noo now I’m gonna be thinking about eating the goddamn blob for the rest of the movie eww.”
“Ugh, gross man, shit now I’m going to have to think about that!”
“You’re the one that bought up jam!”
“I never said I’d eat it?” Steve protests dumbly.
“Um, that’s clearly the next step from calling it jam.”
“Shut up,” Steve grumbles, knocking his shoulder into Eddie’s. He doesn’t move back, just rests himself up against Eddie’s side, he’s so warm and soft and Steve feels queasy and excited and tired all at once. Eddie’s hand slinks from his own lap to Steve’s knee, fingers moving in gentle patterns on his thigh. Steve tries not to make a noise at the contact and ducks his head into Eddie’s shoulder to not reveal his face which he could very evidently feel heating up and shit he felt like a middle school girl holding hands for the first time goddamnit. They go quiet but Steve feels like their attention has partially fallen away from the movie as they lean into each other hesitantly. Steve can barely keep his attention on remembering to breathe and the warm sensation of Eddie’s hand, let alone the movie. He just stares ahead blankly and tries not to tries not to look up at Eddie with the fear he might downright kiss him.
Steve and Eddie somehow find themselves strewn out on Eddie’s floor, staring up at the roof, legs stretched out up on the bed. The TV is running white credits on a blank black screen, soft closing music working as background noise. Steve doesn’t remember how they got on the floor, but their shoulders are pressed together and they’re passing back and forth the second joint in easy silence. Steve doesn’t care how they got on the floor. Eddie is soft and warm, and Steve wants to crawl under his shirt and sleep forever. Steve is hyper-aware of the brush of their hands with each pass over and the fact that if he turned his head, he would almost be leaning into Eddie’s neck. He turns his head the opposite way instead.
“What’s with the handcuffs, Munson? Souvenir from the cops or some shit?”
This perks Eddie up, “Nah man, watch this!” Eddie scrambles himself up from the ground, all bouncy and excited and Steve props himself up against the side of the bed to watch. Eddie unhooks the handcuffs from the nail in the wall, brandishing them proudly with a swing around his finger and a wink. He unclasps them and clicks them onto each of his wrists one after the other and holds his now handcuffed hands up to Steve with a delighted smile. Steve attempts not to drool all over him, looking down at Steve, hands bound together in front of him and shit, shit, shit, there was only so much Steve could control himself around, especially when he's stoned. He instead levels what he hopes is a questioning look and tilts his head to watch Eddie from the ground. What exactly was he watching anyway?
Eddie twists his wrists and does jazz hands, rattling the cuffs against themselves before twisting his wrists inwards. He pauses, his smile dropping on one side. He jangles the cuffs with a concerned shake, squishing his hands against the cuffs. He looks up at Steve with wide eyes, like he’d just gotten himself into some deep shit and was absolutely joyous with it, before throwing his head back and absolutely cracking himself up. His laugh is wild and howling as he doubles himself over, cackling and crying almost manically with laughter.
Steve sits up and stares at him in disbelief, “Dude, what the fuck?”
Eddie manages to putter out Steve’s name in a breathy pause before losing it again to another bout of giggles, shaking his head and dancing on his toes as he clumsily wipes tears away from his eyes, cuffs yanking in hands in all the wrong directions.
“Eddie? Shit man, are you good?”
“Oh my god, shit, Steve,” he squarks out another wheezing laugh, “Stevee.” Eddie comes down to his knees next to Steve and slumps his head against Steve’s shoulder.
“My pick is in my vest.” He muffles into Steve's shirt.
“What?”
“My lockpick. It’s in my vest. You have my vest, Steve.”
Steve realises what Eddie was initially attempting and the situation he’s now got himself into and snorts, laughter bubbling in his chest. “Oh my god, Eddie, well, who’s fucking fault is that?”
“Not mine! It have been a crime to take it back from ya baby, look so good in it Stevie.” Eddie breathes into Steve’s neck, practically nuzzling his face into Steve’s shoulder. Steve brings his hand to the back of Eddie’s head without thinking and gets lost in the warmth of Eddie pressed up against him, breath heating his neck.
“Christ,” Steve breaths, scrambling to continue, “uh, well we can’t fucking go back to mine like this, my father will shoot you.”
“Well, I guess it’s onto option B then,” Eddie sighs, pulling back and levelling Steve with a serious expression, “are you into bondage, Steve?”
Steve stares at him and is fully aware he has his stupidly dazed, staring face on, “huh-?” Steve chokes, feeling his ears burn red. Eddie just snorts and sends him a goofy grin. “Oh. I don’t-” know yet... “fuck um, handcuff keys are all the same r-right? So, we can just call Hopper?”
Eddie’s easy attitude drops as he frowns, “Hopper? The fucking police chief? No way man.”
“He’s chill, he’s like a family friend, it’s fine.”
“It’s fucking one in the morning, idiot.”
“What you have a better idea?”
“I have a few,” Eddie drawls, potently suggestive, with that fucking smile flashing across his face he loops the cuffs around the back of Steve’s neck and tugs him forward teasingly. Steve falls forwards, sticking his hands out to brace him against the ground so that he doesn’t collide head-on with Eddie, except the ground is warm and soft and feels like worn denim. Steve stares down at his hands now braced on Eddie’s thighs and watches his fingers twitch at the sight.
Steve looks back up at Eddie’s face, close and dizzying, his thought slowly clicking around in his mind, “What-? Oh.” Steve doesn’t back away, letting his hand balance him on Eddie’s thigh. Eddie’s smile drops from his face like a falling stone and narrows his eyes at Steve with bewildered scrutiny. The light playfulness that usually dances around them is snuffed like a match in a bucket of water. Eddie takes his hands from where they rest at Steve’s shoulders and gently folds them to warmly cradle the back of Steve’s skull. The cold metal of the handcuffs clink against the back of Steve’s neck and makes him shiver. Eddie dips his head towards Steve, eyebrows crinkling in a very unspoken question, gaze drifting down Steve’s face. Steve nods his chin forwards, mouth slack, already agreeing before his brain even catches up with his own decision.
Eddie’s wide-blown eyes dart back up to meet Steve’s once more, he looks shocked and astonished and… and hopeful. That hopeful glint in Eddie’s eyes is the last thing Steve manages to process before the soft, warmth of Eddie’s mouth is pressing against his. The kiss is gentle and wet as Steve lets Eddie lick into his mouth,
A teasing drag of teeth against Steve’s bottom lip makes him lurch forward and grip Eddie’s thighs. Eddie makes a muffled sound at Steve’s fingers digging into him. Something in Steve snaps and he can’t think of anything other than making Eddie moan. Steve glides his hands up Eddie’s thighs to his hips and pushes back urgently, urging him to the ground and practically crawling on top of him. Eddie unfolds himself and lets Steve push him onto his back and into the carpet, hands still tucked against the back of Steve’s neck and scrunched into his hair.
Steve unloops Eddie’s hand from around the back of his head and pins them up above his head, pressing them into the floor, cold, hard metal against soft, heated skin. Eddie just squirms teasingly under him, pushing his hips up against Steve’s and for fucks sake, even tied up and pinned down, he still manages to be infuriatingly controlling. Steve breaks the kiss and lives out the long withheld desire to sink his teeth into the whisps of the spider tattoo that reaches out onto Eddie’s collarbone, shoving his free hand under the hem of Eddie’s shirt and massaging into his stomach as he licks along the ink lines.
“Yeah, Stevie, fuck baby.” He laughs and groans as Steve bites and drags his tongue along the hollow of Eddie’s collarbone. Steve presses Eddie’s hands harder against the floor and drops his weight into Eddie’s lap, indulging in the warmth of Eddie beneath him. Eddie curls his knees up and brackets Steve’s hips tightly, urging him down. Steve obliges wholeheartedly, grinding down into Eddie’s lap.
Eddie groans, “Good boy.”
And fuck, that makes Steve’s brain buzz numbly, heat pooling in his stomach and an embarrassing whine low in his throat as he impulsively juts against Eddie. Steve pulls back to look Eddie in the eye, a little bewildered by his own reaction.
“Oh, you like that?” Eddie grins meanly, eyes bright, his voice rough and breathy and Steve is almost sure he’s putting it on. “You’re such a good boy, Steve, so, so good for me, baby.”
Steve grips Eddie’s hand and then let's go abruptly, stilling as he looks somewhere above Eddie’s head, a vague expression of concern on his face. Eddie nudges at Steve’s shoulder with his head.
“Fuck Eddie, we gotta stop.”
Eddie immediately presses himself back into the carpet, trying his best to make some space between them, “what’s wrong? Did I? Shit, sorry, was that, was that too much?”
Steve meets his eyes, looking panicked, “No, no, Eddie, it’s fine, no, no, no, you didn’t do anything bad, uh, your hands not looking too flash though and fuck, it’s like really cold dude.”
Eddie groans and lets his shoulders relax against the ground, “Shit Harrington, really not my main priority right now.”
“No, it’s welting, I-“ Steve furrows his brow, not meeting Eddie’s eyes, “I don’t want to hurt you.” Eddie is quiet under him. Steve looks away, knowing that he’s blushing like a fucking idiot. “I’ll call Hopper, you just put another movie on and cool down, we can-“ Steve looks panicked again, “Shit, uh we can do this again! If you want, sometime, like it’s not that I don’t want to do this, this is good, fuck I just you know-”
Eddie can’t help but smile at Steve being useless and awkward, it’s endearing really, “Steve, hey, it’s fine.”
Steve smiles, relieved and fond looking. He stoops his head to kiss Eddie softly, his mouth warm and slick and Steve has to absolutely drag himself away. He sighs and brings Eddie’s hands up to his mouth, kissing his knuckles sweetly and trying to ease the handcuffs from where they’ve been pressing into Eddie’s skin. Eddie just stares at him, looking vaguely bewildered from the floor.
“Where’s your phone?” Steve asks sincerely.
Eddie feels dumb and overwhelmed at how softly Steve is treating him, at the soft affectionate crinkle at Steve’s eyes. It’s solidly nerve-wracking. “Kitchen.” He hears himself whisper and then Steve is gone, the warmth ripped away from Eddie’s body as he’s left laying absolutely baffled on the floor of his own bedroom where Steve fucking Harrington just willingly made out with him and then freaked out about possibly hurting him before kissing his hands tenderly and practically promising to fuck him some other time in the future. What the actual fuck?
Steve finds the landline on the wall just inside the kitchen area and dials the Police station, praying that Hopper is on night shift.
“Police,” a gruff voice picks up blankly. Thank God, Steve thinks.
“Hopper, hey! Uh sorry, it’s late but um we, it’s Steve by the way! Um anyway, well, Eddie, needs some… handcuff keys?” Steve starts high-pitched, all caught up in solving the problem and contacting Hopper and ends up trailing off, feeling suddenly stupid at the actual request.
“Eddie Munson? Needs handcuff keys?” Hopper repeats tiredly.
“Yeah.”
“Eddie needs handcuff keys at 1 am in the morning?” Hopper confirms again, definitely irritated.
Steve swallows, “yes.”
“Jesus Christ, is it at least for legal reasons?”
“Uh yeah, yeah, no, they’re his handcuffs, it’s fine, he just lost the keys.”
Hopper just sighs on the other end of the line, “for fucks sake, you’re lucky I’m on night shift. I’ll be at the station until four.”
Steve pauses and considers whether he could actually manage to drive a car right about now. He still feels dizzy whenever he turns his head so maybe not. “Oh, well, I don’t think we should drive right now actually.”
Hopper hesitates for a second but doesn’t ask for an elaboration, “Where are you?”
“Eddie’s place, it’s-.”
“I’ll be there in the next half hour if you’re lucky.” Hopper hangs up with a thud. Steve returns the handset and resists the urge to crawl into Eddie’s fridge and lick condensation off the shelves. He zones back into reality, stops staring at Eddie’s fridge and moves to find Eddie again. Steve comes around from the kitchen to find him slumped on the lounge watching some weird-looking movie with David Bowie in it. Steve joins him on the lounge, wary not to sit too close because shit how do you act around a guy you just heavily made out with and now, you’re waiting for the police to come around? Steve just sits and watches along quietly. He can practically feel the energy radiation off of Eddie, who won’t quit fiddling with his rings and twisting his legs into a different position every minute or so. They both just sit there for a long while, processing their thoughts in their own ways. Eddie twitching and restless and Steve staring down the TV like a hypnotised chicken. Eddie’s too quiet. Steve makes an attempt to break the tension. He huffs and looks over to Eddie. “Did you put this on to wind me up?”
The corner of Eddie’s mouth quirks up and the tension leeches from Steve’s shoulders at the sight, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” Eddie smirks, blinking up at Steve all innocent acting.
Steve can’t help but smile back at him, even though he’s trying to come across as annoyed, “it has David Bowie and lesbians in it, Eddie, come on.”
Eddie’s smile grows and he flicks a look to Steve, mouth twitching as he selects the right combination of words to say next. The absolute idiot settles with: “So, David Bowie and lesbians, huh? That what you’re into?”
“I’m not into lesbians, Christ, but yeah I’m, you know, bisexual, to answer your truly awfully worded question,” Steve mutters out, he can feel Eddie staring at the side of his head and tries to claw some of his hair down to cover his blush.
“Aw Stevie, you seem a bit flustered.” Eddie coos mockingly, shifting closer to him.
“Well, no shit, you’re handcuffed next to me, alone at night, after making out, looking like,” Steve eyes Eddie wildly, “that.”
Eddie grins, slouching and lolling his head on the back of the couch, legs apart and hands spread on his own thighs, “looking like what, Steve?”
“Fuck off,” Steve groans, caving pathetically as he clambers over desperately close to Eddie and takes his head in his hands to drag him down for a kiss. Eddie happily lets himself be grabbed and kisses Steve back eagerly, hands jumping out to press into Steve’s stomach, the handcuffs really limiting his options here as he so desperately wants to grip Steve’s hips and pin him to the lounge. Steve curls his hand into Eddie’s hair and pulls him into a better position, Eddie whines into Steve’s mouth and he feels Steve’s lips twitch into a brief smile that he fucking knows is smug as hell. Eddie drags his teeth along Steve’s bottom lip and shoves his hands up the hem of his shirt in retaliation, making Steve groan in return.
Wheels crunching on gravel and the sweep of headlights at least gives them some warning of Hopper’s arrival as Steve untangles himself from Eddie and starts nervously running his hand through his hair, wiping at his mouth self-consciously.
Eddie just grins lazily at him, appreciating his red lips and flushed cheeks, “You look perfectly wasted baby, don’t even bother.”
“Shit,” Steve stresses, fixing up his collar. A knock on the door rattles through the trailer and Eddie just laughs at Steve’s expression and watches in amusement as he jumps up to answer the door, trying and failing miserably to phase into his cool-calm-and-collected-Steve-Harrington guise.
“Hopper! Hi!” Steve answers, all too loud and nervous, making Eddie snort. Hopper just looks at him unhappily and invites himself inside. Steve closes the door behind him and moves to stand awkwardly between Hopper and where Eddie is still seated, shuffling and unsure as he tries to pose casually. Hopper just looks down at Eddie, looking ruffled and disgruntled as he slumps on the couch, hands cuffed in his lap, leg gigging up and down, then to Steve looking apologetic and fidgety as he stands there helplessly. His eyes then slide to the TV where some weird, artsy, soft vampire movie is playing quietly.
“Do I even want to know?”
Steve, who’d already been dwelling on Hopper recognising this exact situation for the last twenty minutes is quick to protest, “It’s not what it looks like!” It absolutely is exactly what it looks like.
Eddie just cackles from the couch, suddenly lit up with joy, “Oh my god,” he wheezes, throwing his head back and laughing all high-pitched and giddy. He looks Hopper dead in the eye with a wild grin, “Yeah, Steve was fucking me with some light bondage, sir.” Before snorting with laughter once again, kicking his legs happily.
Steve can feel his ears burning red. “He was doing a magic trick,” Steve grumbles, scowling at the floor.
“Jesus,” Hopper sighs, hands propped on his hips in disappointment, “I would’ve gone along with the sex cover, that’s pathetic, really.”
“Heyy, I totally used to be able to break out of cuffs! It’s a hot party trick, dude.” Eddie claims.
“Uh-huh, come on, get your sorry ass over here before I leave you like that, you goddamn deserve it.”
“For your information, sirs, had I been participating in bondage, I would prefer to be on the other side of this situation,” Eddie explains, winking up at Steve. Steve practically black’s out thinking about being handcuffed to Eddie’s headboard. Eddie, meanwhile, simply holds his hands loosely in Hopper’s direction with an innocent grin, Hopper snatches the cuffs, jerking Eddie forward a little unfairly. He finds a small, plain key from his bunch of keys and slots it into the keyhole, unclicking the cuffs from Eddie with a shake of the head.
“I’m confiscating these and ignoring the fact you two are very obviously stoned,” he states sternly, securing them to his utility belt.
Eddie just tuts, fighting back a shit-eating grin as he looks at the cuffs with mocking sorrow, “There go our plans for tonight, Steve.”
“Uh, he’s joking,” Steve points out lamely, staring at Hopper with wide eyes as he makes an attempt to leave. Hopper claps him on the shoulder on the way out.
“Great, sure, make sure you have a key next time, kids. And Jesus Christ, please let’s never mention this again.”
“Yes, sir thank you again, I’m so sorry,” Steve trails off after Hopper, “have a good night?” He offers weakly before finally being able to close the front door and thump his head against it with a groan. The trailer is quiet as Hopper’s patrol car crunches away on the gravel outside.
“Aw, don’t be too hard on yourself Steve, we can always just use rope,” Eddie suggests cheerfully.
Steve just feels emotionally and physically drained at this point, “I’m holding you to that next time.” Steve grins, not quite feeling it reach his eyes. Eddie is in front of him in a second, arms looped gently around Steve’s torso.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed, huh? It’s been a hell of a night.” He says softly into Steve’s ear.
Curled up in Eddie’s bed, perfectly worn blankets and pillows piled around them, Eddie’s hand toying through Steve’s hair and the warmth of his chest under Steve’s head, Steve feels safe. For the first time in the last fucking five years Steve feels truly safe wrapped up in Eddie’s arms. And shit, Steve decides, this is something he never wants to live another day without.