Chapter Text
“Eddie, the line-up is staring in five,” Steve complained, warily looking over his shoulder to the cars that were preparing to finally enter the track.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Harrington?” Eddie huffed, words slightly smothered as he clenched a torque wrench between his teeth, “You can’t rush perfection. You want me to fix this shit or not? Or would you rather do it? Because, by all means, I would be more than happy for you to try to do this yourself.”
Steve rolled his eyes, folding his arms against his chest as he watched the mechanic continue tampering with the front of the car, hood propped up as he went to work repairing something that Steve knew nothing about.
Eddie had been going at it for a few minutes, muttering under his breath. Something about you’ve really done it this time , and how could you wreck such a nice car and I don’t get paid enough for this . Complaining about how none of his wrenches were the right size for the bolt and accusing one of the other pit-crew members of stealing them, Steve having to repeatedly get him back on track while reminding him of the race’s starting time.
He would have yelled at Eddie if he didn’t like him so much.
“I could fix it if I wanted to,” he insisted as-a-matter-of-factly.
The mechanic glanced up from his work, his dark, umber eyes flickering with dull amusement. He swept a loose strand of hair out of his face, ponytail obviously not doing enough. He grinned that grin of his, shit-eating and waggish. Steve straightened up at the sight of him, resting his hands on his hips and biting the inside of his cheek.
“The only thing you’re good at doing, Harrington,” Eddie stated, cocking his head, “is breaking cars.”
“And driving them,” Steve added hastily.
Eddie let out a huff of laughter.
“And driving them,” he repeated reluctantly. “Now are you gonna keep interrupting me or are you going to let me work?”
“I’ll let you work,” he hummed, putting his hands up defeatedly before sauntering over, standing over his shoulder. “Just reminding you that you have two minutes.”
“Yeah, well, if someone in this place didn’t steal my fucking wrench ,” Eddie answered, making sure to raise his voice on the second half so the pit crew could hear him, “then maybe I wouldn’t be taking this long. Do you know how nearly impossible it is to tighten bolts with a wrench that’s too big? This isn’t some…’wow I’m gonna use a butterknife to tighten this screw’, no, it’s like, completely different and–“
“How about this,” Steve interjected, resting his hands comfortably on Eddie’s shoulders, the mechanic leaning pleasantly into his touch, “when I win–“
“ If ,” Eddie reminded him.
“ When I win this race,” he repeated, squeezing his shoulders gently, “and when I get that cash prize…I’ll buy you all the tools in the fucking world. You’ll have so many wrenches that you won’t know what to do with them.”
“I’d rather you get me my own mechanic shop,” he decided, glancing over his shoulder.
Their faces were impossibly close, the two of them practically breathing in each other’s air. Steve smiled down at him. Eddie smiled back, briefly sizing him up.
They liked each other.
It was obvious to each of them the feelings of the other, and it was their silent sort of game that they never mentioned. They simply orbited around each other through work, Steve always trying to find a reason to stand next to Eddie, Eddie always trying to find a reason to talk to Steve.
Everything about the mechanic just absolutely infatuated him. His unruly hair swept back with a bandana, the assortment of tools crammed messily into a work belt that hung around his hips. The way he squinted one eye while he worked, sticking his tongue out while trying to focus. The way he would always hit his head on the underside of the car after using the creeper to look underneath.
The way that he was the best mechanic in the shop while also being the clumsiest.
Steve would silently watch him as he worked, watching his fingers hover over a display of metal tools, watching him have to stop and readjust his ponytail. He would sink into himself each time their eyes eventually met.
“How about two mechanic shops?” Steve whispered.
“Deal,” Eddie returned after a second. He could feel his warm breath against his face.
“And how about a kiss for good luck?” he continued, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Eddie’s eyes sparked, a star of light twinkling in each. He pressed his lips together as if trying to conceal a smile, looking down at his shoes. Untied laces. Steve smiled as their eyes met again, the mechanic opening his mouth to say something.
“Do I have to remind you, Steve,” Eddie started, lips curling into a simper, “that we’re on national television?”
“Mm, I’m betting that all of the cameras are on the line-up…” Steve returned, his voice trailing off as a flicker of panic thumper in his heart, “…which I’m missing , shit. Okay, um…thank you for your help, I’ll buy you your shops later, and your tools, and anything you want really?”
He stumbled around the car, rushing to find his helmet.
“Wait, I still haven’t finished fixing the car.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Steve insisted, dismissing the statement with a wave of his hand, still searching for his helmet. “The damage wasn’t too bad anyway, right?”
“I mean…” Eddie started, his voice trailing off as he scratched the back of his neck.
“Will the car explode?” he huffed sarcastically.
“Well, no,” he admitted.
“Then I don’t need it,” Steve reassured, grinning before standing up straight, muttering with frustration. “I can’t find my fucking helmet. Someone stole it.”
“No one stole your helmet,” Eddie laughed.
“Oh yeah?” he hummed. “Then what happened to your wrenches?”
“That’s different,” he insisted with a smile. “C’mon, look for your helmet and I can quickly finish up the car. I’m almost done, I swear. If you weren’t always distracting me with all your questions then maybe I would’ve finished a few minutes ago.”
“You love my questions,” Steve insisted as-a-matter-of-factly, moving past Eddie to take the hood prop out of his car, smiling to himself as he finally noticed his helmet sitting on Eddie’s tool cart. “I’ll see you at the end of the race, when I win . Or, even better, the pit stop.”
“Mm, can’t wait,” Eddie hummed, wiping his smudged hands on a rag. “I actually got put on management this time. Great for me, I’m tired of rolling those fucking wheels around. Hop says we gotta be faster with them if we want you to win this race.”
“I’ll make sure to drive fast enough to make up for you slow-pokes,” Steve joked, flashing a grin, twirling his helmet in his hands. “You know, I really could use some good luck right now…”
Eddie rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
“National television,” he reminded, resting a hand on his hip.
“Television shmelevision,” Steve scoffed.
“You’re an idiot, Harrington,” Eddie teased, his eyes softening before he stepped over, wrapping his arms over his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. Steve hooked his arms around his waist, resting his chin comfortably on his shoulder. “Be safe out there, okay?”
“I’ll make sure not to crash the fuckin’ car,” he chuckled.
“I’m serious,” he whispered, nose nudging gently at his shoulder before he pulled away. Their eyes met and Steve found himself drowning in a hickory sea. “It’s dangerous, and I know that you know that and I know that you think I’m being too worried about it, but…I mean, I just can’t help but worry. That’s all. I just…I want you to be safe, okay?”
“You falling in love with me, Munson?” Steve hummed teasingly.
“Can you be serious for just half a second?” Eddie huffed, smiling reluctantly nonetheless.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he reminded him, pulling him in for another hug. Eddie melted perfectly into his touch…like they were made to be holding each other. Like Eddie was made for him. “I’ve been driving cars since I was like, twelve. Fast cars. I was made for fast cars.”
“Just don’t hurt yourself,” he whispered.
“I won’t,” Steve insisted. “I promise. I’ll see you on the other side.”
–
“Alright, everyone, all hands on deck,” Eddie announced, tapping his clipboard with his pencil before tucking the writing utensil behind his ear, looking to the pit crew expectantly as he rested a hand on his hip. “Harrington’s on his forty-second lap, and he never pushes fifty without taking a pit break. I want everyone at their stations before we wait for the signal. If you don’t know your job by now, well…I don’t believe in God, but I’ll pray for you.”
He stood behind the pit wall, watching as the race cars sped by rapidly, whizzing fiercely. Eddie’s eyes lingered on the crimson red car, number 56. Steve’s car. Bright red with a streak of white, already in the lead. Eddie could hear the broadcasters from where he was standing, listening to their microphone announcements reported from the booth, praising Steve as he took the lead and kept it efficiently.
Steve was the best driver on the track, and everyone knew it. Eddie couldn’t help but smile with pride as he watched him, clipboard tucked underneath his arm. It was at moments at these when he couldn’t help but wonder…why him? After all, Steve had fans…girls who probably kept posters of him in their room, plastered beside their nightstand. Girls who idolized him, who wanted to meet him in person, who wanted his autograph.
And, well…Eddie was Eddie. He didn’t see what was so special about himself.
And yet, Steve smiled at him. Seemed to be drawn to him, always wanted to be around him. Standing over his shoulder as he worked, asking his ridiculous questions, as if he didn’t know any of the parts to his car. Eddie would always try to hide his smile as he tinkered away.
The walkie-talkie resting on his tool cart crackled to life.
“Munson, pit stop in a lap,” Steve informed.
Eddie lunged for the device, pulling it to his ear.
“Roger that, Stevie,” he answered softly. “You’re looking great out there.”
“You can’t even see me, Eds.”
“Don’t walkie and drive.”
He rested the walkie-talkie back down on the cart, taking a heavy breath before reassuming the position, holding his clipboard firmly.
“It’s show time!” Eddie announced, everyone reaching for their respected tools, car jacks and air wrenches, others gripping the edge of the tire and waiting to roll it into place. “We’ve got about half a lap, everyone be prepared. We gotta be the fastest pit crew out here if we want him to keep the lead. He’s the first one to stop, it gives us the upper hand, but not if everyone fucks around.”
He breathed in heavily with anticipation, a knot churning in his stomach as he watched Steve’s car begin to slow, merging off to the side as it rolled in quickly to the crew station. Eddie quickly supervised the situation, making sure that everyone was doing their respected tasks, opening the fuel door and jacking the car up. He used to be on tires before his promotion to Car Chief. Eddie had always worried that he would lose control of the tire, sending it rolling onto the track.
As Eddie looked up from his clipboard, he could barely make out Steve through the tinted windows. He was looking back at him. Eddie waved shyly.
Within thirty seconds, the pit crew was done, and Steve was leaving as soon as he’d come. Eddie watched as he went, smiling to himself and his heart rate finally settling, waiting for the eventual announcement that would report ‘Steve Harrington takes the lead despite being the first to take a pit stop’. He would be back in about another fifty laps, just before the last leg of the race.
There wasn’t a doubt in Eddie’s mind that Steve would win. Although he liked to tease him, he knew that Steve was the best driver out there…simply because he was one of the stupidest. He went too fast and he turned corners too quickly, and he wasn’t afraid to cut someone off to the point of crashing his car. It was unbelievable how much control he had over it. Steve’s risks were what made him the best, were what made people talk about him.
He was shaping up to be a celebrity.
Eddie didn’t like thinking about that, though. It just reminded him that he wasn’t the only person in the world who liked Steve Harrington. He was just some mechanic who happened to work for the pit crew.
The walkie-talkie crackled to life again.
Odd.
“Munson?” Steve asked anxiously from the other line.
Eddie scrambled hurriedly to the walkie, pulling it to his ear.
“What’s up?”
“Um…I think something’s wrong with the car.”
Eddie furrowed his eyebrows with confusion, opening his mouth to question him before eventually hearing someone else muttering about Steve’s car just the same. He glanced over, eyes darting over the series of cars, searching for Steve’s. After a few seconds, his gaze settled on the crimson red flash, heart sinking in his chest as he noticed smoke billowing out from underneath the hood, lingering in the air as he drove.
Shit .
“Shit,” Eddie murmured, thinking out loud.
“What do I do?” Steve questioned.
“I…” he started, letting out a defeated huff, “…just pull over, Steve. Pull over to the center of the track.”
“What?” he heard the driver scoff, as if offended by the mere suggestion. “Eds, I’m in the lead. I mean, I could totally ride this thing out. I’m looking for short-term solutions, not giving up my spot. Are there any buttons I can press to like…stop it from doing whatever it’s doing? Could I pitstop and you just quickly fix it and then I could keep driving? I mean, come on …first place!”
“Steve, you need to pull over,” Eddie insisted firmly. “Jesus, you should have given me more time to fix the fucking thing! I wasn’t finished.”
“Dude, we were lining up, I wasn’t going to miss that.”
“Yeah, well, now the car is smoking,” he sighed, running his hand through his tangled hair. “Steve, I’m serious, you gotta pull over. I can’t pit-stop this shit, whatever damage was done from before is obviously worse. It could take minutes to fix.”
“You said my car wouldn’t explode, right?”
“Steve, you really shouldn’t be driving with one hand, you’ll–“
“ Right ?” Steve repeated firmly.
Eddie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Yes, I said that your car wouldn’t explode,” he confirmed, “but that was before the damn thing started smoking. I mean, who knows, maybe it’s not what I was fixing earlier and it’s something worse. Cars don’t smoke like that Steve, that’s not rocket science.”
“I need to win this.”
“You don’t need to do anything but pull over,” Eddie exclaimed with frustration. “I get that you want to win, but you’re already a champion! You’ve won so many of these damn things, just–“
“I’ve never won All-Stars.”
“Steve, if you don’t pull over right fucking now,” he said, “you are putting yourself in danger for no reason. Your car could explode . The fucking thing could set on fire, and you’re not going to win with that.” He sighed. “I know you were looking forward to this, but you gotta trust me.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Steve?” Eddie whispered.
“I’ll pull over,” Steve answered softly, defeatedly.
Eddie let out a soft sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” he murmured, resting the walkie-talkie down before walking to the pit wall, keeping an eye on Steve’s car.
He hated how reckless Steve could be sometimes. Always thinking about winning. Hell, the car could be on fire and he would still insist that he could power through, that he could push it until the end and take the winning place. Eddie would likely have to console him later about not taking the lead.
The crimson car began to merge closer to the center of the track, toward a patch of turf that he could settle on and safely get out of his car. Eddie watched him sympathetically. As reckless as he was…Steve loved to drive. He loved the track and he loved the cheers and he loved the cars. God, his fucking Hot Wheels collection was insane.
It happened so fast that Eddie almost didn’t process it.
But it happened. It happened with a bang.
A crash.
An admiral blue car that had obviously lost control, speeding too fast to make the turn, veering awkwardly to the left as Steve began merging further to the grass. As the car skidded out of control at such immeasurable speeds, it hit the crimson red at an almost ninety-degree angle. Neither car stopped moving. In fact, Steve’s car tipped to the left, a rollover, before getting hit at the back, knocked finally onto the grass.
With one final roll, the car steadied, upside-down, smoke continue to force itself out from under the hood.
The pit crew was silent for a second.
Eddie sucked in a heavy breath, hand clutching the railing with disbelief, tears instinctively welling at the corners of his eyes. The announcements from the broadcasters seemed a muffled blur in his mind, his shoulders slumping at his side, mouth curling and bile beginning to rise in his throat.
“Holy shit,” Robin finally managed. “He’s not getting out.”
“Why is no one stopping?” Eddie breathed out, watching as the cars continued to speed around the track, including the admiral blue, which had finally seemed to find its footing. The broadcasters had already quickly moved on to who had taken the lead. Eddie watched as Steve’s tired continued to pathetically spin before they finally settled. Smoke continued to blow. The car door wasn’t opening. Steve wasn’t climbing out.
“Why isn’t anyone helping him?” he continued. “Where–where are the fucking medics?”
He could feel his breath rising in his chest. Steve wasn’t climbing out. He wasn’t climbing out. He wasn’t climbing out.
It had all happened so fast.
Eddie felt like he was going to vomit. He had told Steve to pull to the center. He had put him in the track of the other car. He hadn’t fixed that car fast enough so it wasn’t smoking. And now Steve wasn’t getting out, his car practically a crumpled upside-down mess on the turf.
The hood caught fire.
“Fuck this,” Eddie choked out, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand before planting both firmly on the rail, taking a deep breath before hopping over.
“Eddie, what’re you doing?” Robin questioned.
He didn’t answer, trying to settle his nerves as he stumbled forward, head darting back and forth as he watched cars whiz by, merely a few feet away from him. Eddie could hear the crew members yelling at him from behind the railing, telling him that the race would be over soon, that they would get to him eventually. He didn’t listen. He didn’t care.
Eddie never liked taking risks. He was reserved, doing everything in an orderly fashion. Always the type to run away from conflict instead of facing it, allowing someone else to fix it for him. His entire life he had allowed life to push him around, he had allowed opportunities to slip away from him. And as cars whizzed by him, Eddie understood the risk.
One hundred and fifty miles an hour.
Could kill him in an instant. One second there, the next second gone.
I’ll see you on the other side .
Some people were worth taking risks for.
He took a breath.
He held it in his chest.
He ran.
They screamed behind him. With terror, with concern. Eddie didn’t look back. He didn’t falter. He kept his eyes on Steve’s car, and at that moment it was the only thing in the world…the only thing that mattered. The broadcasters took notice, but their words were drowned out. Eddie stumbled, a car flying past near feet from him, but he didn’t stop.
I’ll see you on the other side .
Eddie practically threw himself onto the safety of the turf, breath catching in his throat briefly adoring the feeling of safe ground against his palms. He quickly pulled himself to his feet, taking a deep breath. Steve’s car remained outcast toward the side. The door remained shut. An uneasy feeling swept over him, but he fought it down.
He ran.
He threw himself at the door of Steve’s car, crumpled and beat-up. God, Steve loved that car.
Without another word, Eddie opened the car door, peering uneasily inside. Steve’s head lolled back, still buckled into his seat, upside down. He was breathing. If God was real…well, Eddie would have to thank him later. He almost sobbed with relief at the sight of him, hurriedly reaching in to unbuckle the seatbelt, whispering an apology as he dragged Steve out of the car.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Eddie whispered, balancing Steve in his lap, curling over him. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Eddie carefully hooked his fingers under the bottom of Steve’s helmet, pulling it free. His matted, sweaty hair spiked up slightly. Eddie’s eyes softened at the sight of the beat-up bruise on Steve’s forehead, obviously having knocked himself against the window, earning a small mark despite the padding. Steve’s eyes were shut. Eddie squeezed his shoulder, silently pleading that he would wake up.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, thumb gently brushing over his bruise.
Steve’s eyes tightened with discomfort, letting out a heavy grunt. He shifted hesitantly in Eddie’s arms, groaning and quickly pressing a firm palm against his ribcage, his eyes slowly fluttering open, glazed over with pain and confusion. Eddie didn’t say anything, trying to settle his heartbeat as he stared down at Steve, praying that he would say something. Anything.
“I think I broke my fucking ribs…” Steve grunted, lips curling weakly into a smile.
“Jesus Christ, I thought you were dead, I’ll take broken ribs,” Eddie whispered, water pooling in his eyes as he wiped them with his sleeve. “I saw the crash…I…I’m so sorry, Steve. I’m so fucking sorry, if I had known that…that that fucking car would…” his voice trailed off weakly, face crumbling at the sight of Steve staring up at him.
“You’re so beautiful…” Steve breathed out.
Eddie let out a sob, smiling despite himself.
“I’m sorry, too,” he continued, hand weakly reaching up to hold Eddie’s.
“You’re sorry?” Eddie questioned, nose wrinkling lightly with confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you…you did exactly what I told you to do.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t buy you that mechanic shop,” Steve murmured, voice painfully genuine.
“You’re an idiot,” he whispered, breathing shakily. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”
Steve just smiled up at him, weak and in pain, breath ragged from the ache in his chest.
“So much for first place…”
“I don’t care about first place,’ Eddie insisted truthfully. “I don’t care about that fucking mechanic shop, or–or all the tools in the world. I just… fuck , I care about you , Steve. And to think that you could have…and then we never could have…”
Steve planted a palm firmly in the turf, carefully beginning to lift himself up. He grunted, other hand reaching for his side, and Eddie was quick to guide him to a sitting position. They looked at each other, cars whizzing by in the background, as if the world were spinning around them the same way they orbited around each other. Steve smiled weakly despite his broken ribs. Eddie’s eyes softened.
Slowly, he leaned forward, cupping Steve’s face in his hands and connecting their lips.
It doesn’t last long, Steve smiling too much against his lips.
“National television…” he whispered.