Work Text:
Eddie was only there because Gareth was there.
Gareth was only there because the girl that he'd had a crush on for years was there, lifeguarding the '82 Hawkins divisional swim competition at the outdoor pool near the center of town.
And Eddie really didn't mind too much. He got to sit on the only part of the metal benches that weren't getting blasted by the 88 degree sun, he could zone out and try and figure out what to do next week for his D&D campaign with the dudes from Corroded Coffin, and Gareth bought him a slurpee from 7/11 for his troubles. Perfect.
Some whistles blew, some guy was yelling into a bullhorn, some splashing around, the crowd cheering- one time booing, then going right back to cheering. This kind of shit went on for what seemed both like 10 minutes and 10 hours. Eddie doodled a guy getting eaten by a dragon on the bottom half of his little notepad.
Who knows what year it was when he finally looked up from his now sludgy and nearly empty orange drink to catch the last bit of whatever was going on.
"Lane four, second place!" The guy with the bullhorn announced. The people around Eddie were screaming shit like "Go Steve!" and "good job Harrington!" that certainly caught his attention. Of course Steve Harrington was here, that guy played every sport where he could show off something .
"Lane three is first!" The bullhorn guy yelled again and the crowd was now screaming over some guy named Reed Stokes that Eddie was pretty sure he sold acid to every so often.
He got a little distracted as he looked around for Harrington or maybe Stokes, putting the end of his pen between his teeth as he scanned the crowd of tan, practically naked dudes all yelling and cheering and laughing and shaking hands.
Gareth was sitting beside him and caught Eddie's attention by nudging his arm. "D'ya think I should talk to Ally now?"
"Uh, yeah, I think you should talk to Ally now! She totally likes you, man. I wouldn't be surprised if you got pregnant tonight." Eddie joked, smiling at his friend and lightheartedly shoving Gareth up and out of his seat. "Now go! Look- she's not busy right now! Shoo!"
Gareth looked back at Eddie as he stumbled towards her, away from the benches full of people who were now filing out towards the exit. He grimaced and crossed his fingers, hesitating. Eddie just gave a thumbs up in return, then flicked his hands out as a gesture for Gareth to go.
When the two finally talked, they seemed to be hitting it off, so Eddie figured he'd wander off and let them be for a while.
Eddie was Gareth's ride home, so he waited and hovered under an awning, his back against the brick wall of the locker rooms far behind the pool where no one else was. He grabbed the half empty packet of Marlboro reds and matchbook from his vest pocket- it was far too hot for the leather jacket, but he still had to look cool somehow-, placing a cigarette between his lips and striking up a match, lighting it, then waving out the fire and touching the now black end to make sure it wasn't hot before throwing the match away in a metal garbage can nearby.
Eddie was prepared to be fully alone, forgetting that other people actually were in the building behind him until he watched as the one and only goddamn King Steve walked out of the locker room door maybe 10 steps away, drying his hair with a white towel then letting it hang over his bare shoulders. He then mirrored Eddie and leaned against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, looking down at the cement. He also seemed to be waiting for someone.
Eddie tried to sink into the wall, hoping that Steve wouldn't even notice he was there, because they both had a bit of a reputation. Steve never bullied him directly, but the two had been assigned to sit next to each other in the same history class for nearly the whole semester and he hadn’t looked Eddie’s way even once. He also hung out with some real shitheads, and Eddie didn’t know if that reflected anything back on Steve, but he didn’t care to find out.
Didn’t mean Eddie couldn’t enjoy the view, though.
He had a stupid little crush on Steve fuckin' Harrington. He knew nothing would ever come of it, because he was a dude and in a tiny shitty town where nothing ever happened, but he let himself indulge from time to time.
Eddie tried to blow the smoke from his cigarette in the opposite direction that Steve was, out of nothing but common decency. He stole fleeting glimpses, afraid of anything more. Wet, dark brown hair- his own white beat up shoes. Long eyelashes, sharp nose- the cracked gray pavement. Broad shoulders and chest dotted with moles-
Eddie's head whipped around to pretend to be interested in the garbage can on the other side of the building, kind of embarrassed, as the locker room door opened again and four other guys came out, laughing about god knows what. He didn't bother to look at them, just taking another long drag from his cigarette.
The guys kept walking, and were fully out of sight before someone cleared their throat directly behind Eddie and scared the shit out of him. He nearly jumped out of his skin, and looked over to see none other than Harrington, only a step or two away.
"Sorry man, didn't mean to scare you." Steve was failing to hide his laughter. "Could I bum a smoke off you?" He asked, a hand running through his hair that was still dripping onto his shoulders that Eddie made a point not to look at.
He blinked dumbly for a second, processing. Was this the first time Steve was actually talking to him? "Fine. But I expect compensation, Harrington." He said as coolly as he could, fishing the pack out again and holding his cigarette between his lips so he could pull out a new one and hand it to Steve.
Steve nodded his thanks, but just kind of… held it between his thumb and forefinger for a while, looking at Eddie.
"Oh, fuck, my bad." Eddie said, his face feeling hot but praying it didn't show. He had forgotten to give Steve a light. Eddie ashed his own real quick on the pavement, and lit Steve's cigarette with the end of his, not wanting to waste another match. He snickered- what did Jeff call it? Buttfucking?
"What's so funny?" Steve asked, smirking.
"I just buttfucked you, my friend." Eddie raised his eyebrows, sporting a lazy grin as he leaned in closer to Harrington. He was a big fan of just saying shit. Sometimes it was a say shit get hit situation, but it never stopped being funny.
"That cannot be what that's called." Steve spluttered, but grinning all the same.
"Hey, don't shoot the messenger." Eddie raised his palms defensively.
After a beat of silence passed as the two teenagers smoked, Steve spoke again.
"So, freak- I mean, Munson." He stumbled out, and Eddie rolled his eyes. Of course. This interaction had been far too good for too long. "Did you watch the meet or have you just been out here the whole time?"
"Depends on who you're talking to, the freak or Munson." Eddie said bitterly.
"My bad, man. I mean you, Munson." Steve frowned. "I shouldn't call you freak to your face."
This apology fucking sucked. ' To your face. ' Jesus, shut up. Eddie crossed one arm over his chest, resting his hand on his other bicep. "The freak didn't give a fuck. But Eddie caught some, yeah."
"Really?" Steve looked… happy? Did he really crave validation that much? "I didn't see you in the stands, but I guess I wasn't really looking, y'know, with my fuckin' face under water and all." He joked.
Eddie hated that he smiled at that. "I guess I should congratulate you on second place-" He began, but suddenly Steve wasn't listening to him anymore. Eddie's smile fell. Same old douchebag as always. Eddie wondered if that was the Steve that his friends saw, personable and cracking jokes behind closed doors, but he didn't know why he thought Steve would be any different when he could hear footsteps coming towards him.
Steve quickly stubbed his cigarette out on the brick wall behind them and walked around in almost frantic circles, probably wanting to get the smell off of himself. Eddie furrowed his brows, working out why. All his other friends smoked, it was like… the only thing to do in Hawkins.
Nancy Wheeler rounded the corner of the brick building, and Eddie put the pieces together. She was little miss perfect, and god forbid her equally as perfect boyfriend put something so terrible in his lungs, Eddie guessed. He felt... some nasty feeling bubble up in his chest. Jealousy? Loneliness? He was never too emotionally literate to find the words for it.
She wrapped him up in a big hug and Eddie turned away when they started kissing. Those two were basically joined at the lips, doing all sorts of cringe-worthy shit every minute of every day when they thought nobody could see them, but of course everyone could. And Eddie watched from off in the distance like it was a fucking car wreck.
Wheeler was a fine girl and all, but how her and Steve acted together made his vision go white around the edges. How he kissed her with those stupid lips of his, how he probably did some lovely unspeakable shit to her with that stupid body-
Eddie stubbed his cigarette out on the brick wall and walked off to go find Gareth and go home already.
He could hear Nancy telling Steve that she was oh so proud of him, and Steve telling her that he couldn't have done so well if he hadn't seen her cheering him on. Sickening. Absolutely sickening. But he couldn't help wishing that maybe… maybe Steve could talk like that to him. Not that he would ever admit it, even to himself.
Once Eddie rounded the corner, he put his hands on his head, gripping fistfuls of his curly hair in frustration. He needed to get a fucking grip. He had absolutely no right to be jealous. Nothing was never going to happen and he needed to accept that and smarten up before he hurt his own damn feelings by pining over some stupid shithead that called Byers a queer.
-
Eddie climbed in his van and cranked the air con up as high as it went, keeping the windows rolled down as the shitty vents blasted hot air for a minute first. Gareth pulled open the door and got in not long after.
"So, how'd it go?" Eddie asked, waiting for Gareth to put on his seat belt then pulling out of the parking lot, the wind coming through the windows and blowing Eddie's shaggy hair into his face.
"She has a boyfriend." Gareth put his head in his hands in despair.
"Damn. That's fucked up." Eddie patted his friend on the shoulder. "I'm gonna wish on a shooting star tonight that every person in a happy relationship drops dead, just for you, man." He joked.
Gareth lifted his head and cracked a smile. "Not everyone. Just all the boyfriends." He said, and Eddie couldn't help but agree.
Now, the year was 1986.
Eddie had the craziest year of his entire life. He almost got killed in the upside down after playing the most metal concert in the whole fucking world that he could only tell like, nine people about. And that he got fucking insane nightmares about it even though four months had passed since he stepped foot in the upside down. He also got accused of being a serial killer which was… fun … and had to spend a shit ton of time with the police chief who was weirdly chill and was in a russian prison apparently, and helped Eddie out with a story for clearing his name. That meant he also spent some time with Ms. Byers, who sometimes brought dinner for him and his uncle Wayne when they were at court all day, and was just generally a nice lady. (even if all the hooligans that camped at her house constantly pestered him to play DnD, but he always had no time.)
But somehow, one of the weirdest things that happened was that the one and only Steve Harrington was lying in his bed right now, on a hot August night.
Steve Harrington, in his underwear, with his stupid handsome face pressed against Eddie’s ribs just under a long stripe of scar, and his stupid beefy arm thrown over Eddie’s middle, thumb brushing over his hip, moving slower and slower as Steve drifted in and out of sleep.
-
Eddie remembered when Steve saw him shirtless for the first time.
"Damn, I didn't know the demobats could get you in such a straight line." Steve pointed out as he was helping Eddie change the bandages that he couldn't quite reach in the bathroom of his fancy house. Eddie sat on the counter surrounding the sink, staring at Steve, who was standing in front of him with a roll of adhesive bandage in his hands.
Eddie knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, then burst out in laughter. Steve was talking about his top surgery scars.
"What? What's so funny?" Steve asked, looking genuinely bewildered.
"Oh Stevie, these weren't from the demobats. They're from…" Eddie trailed off ominously, putting his hands on his cheeks and raising his eyebrows like that one painting he couldn't remember the name of. "Michigan!" He squealed, doing his best final girl in a slasher movie impression.
The second he turned 18, you best believe he found the best surgeon he could and drove all the way there to get it.
Steve laughed, grabbing Eddie gently by the wrist. "Calm down, you're gonna hurt yourself.”
“Sorry, nurse.” Eddie pouted, looking up at Steve and batting his eyelashes. “If I be a good boy, can I get ice cream?”
Steve turned around, facing the door, with his hands on his hips and tilting his face up towards the ceiling. Eddie heard him mutter “Oh my god.” to himself and laughed.
-
Eddie twirled Steve’s hair around his fingers, still slightly damp from a shower. He rambled on about whatever he could think of, because Steve didn’t mind how Eddie talked about the movies he’d never seen.
Even though Eddie had sat right beside him as they watched Rocky Horror Picture Show, Steve had some memory problems from being smacked around so much, so he never really kept quite all of it. Turns out, that was kind of perfect because Eddie loved recapping and talking about the same things over and over again.
"You know when in the scene where they're all at the dinner table, do you think the actors knew about my lovely namesake's corpse under there?” Eddie said, and Steve only grunted softly in response.
Eddie exhaled a silent laugh through his nose. He was going to continue, but Steve’s eyes were fully closed and Eddie could tell that he was really struggling to stay awake, so he figured he should probably call it for the night, too. He was pretty tired.
Eddie scooted out from under Steve- who kept his arm decidedly around Eddie’s middle, propping himself up on his elbows to click off the lamp beside his bed then plopping right back down. The clock on his nightstand blinked that it was nearly 1 AM. Jesus, it was a whole lot later than he thought. Steve had work tomorrow at 9:00 and he was gonna help Wayne out with fixing his truck. (And lord knows that man was an early bird)
Steve liked to braid Eddie's hair when he needed something to do with his hands, so now he had two braided pigtails ending in Robin's old scrunchies that was apparently so subconscious to Steve, that he hadn't even noticed until Eddie pointed it out. Apparently, he learned how to braid to help Max out, y'know, with both her arms broken and all, which was sweet of him.
Eddie liked when Steve did things like that. He'd never admit to it, but he picked up on things easily. What days you had a big game or gig or whatever that he would always be there for, what you needed help with, what advice to give. All that.
Except for his taste in music, which was in Eddie's opinion, terrible. Well, only because he had to borderline blackmail Steve into not telling their friends that he kind of liked Madonna. It was growing on him like a fungus. Maybe because
Like A Virgin
made Steve shake his ass around and grin like an idiot, and Eddie couldn't help but like it.
Steve rolled over to lay on his back, his arms coming to rest over his own body and leaving Eddie free.
But Steve just couldn't let him be, now could he? (Not that Eddie would want that, anyways)
"Not even a goodnight?" Steve whispered. He rose, leaning back on one hand, and resting the other just below Eddie's collarbone.
Eddie rolled his eyes playfully even though the other man probably couldn’t see it, reaching up to cup Steve's face in his hands, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone before pulling him in closer.
The kiss was slow, lazy, and tired, but god it felt so safe. Nothing crazy anymore. No gunshots. No monsters. No near-death experiences. Just Steve, and his warm, solid hand on the nape of Eddie's neck, and the endless feeling of peace.
He hoped he wouldn't have a nightmare tonight. Steve didn't sleep over much, and Eddie was always embarrassed when he woke up screaming, leaving what felt like an imprint of his body in sweat on the sheets like the fuckin' Kool aid man, all while Steve tried to calm him down and reassure him that he wasn't bleeding out anymore. Mortifying.
But it went both ways. Like when the 4th of July fireworks went off, and Steve swore through and through that he was fine in front of all their friends, but he was vice-gripping Eddie's hand so hard that he swore he nearly broke a finger.
But right now, with Steve sighing into his mouth and feeling sleep pull at the corners of his thoughts, Eddie figured he was pretty alright.
Everything was alright.