Work Text:
Hawkins, spring 1987
There are certain things, certain things that have happened in the last few months of Eddie Munson’s life. Things of the uttermost importance, impossible things that never– and Eddie cannot stress on this enough, never he thought would happen to him.
Eddie even made a list out of these things, a list that keeps growing with every passing day. It’s not alphabetized or anything, this list, it’s simply pure chaos coming up to Eddie’s mind whenever it pleases. And it’s pretty long, for someone who has just crossed the age of twenty-one.
It sort of goes like this:
- He survived being chewed down by a bunch of bats from another dimension;
- He didn’t get rabies from said bats;
- He graduated; that’s a big one, considering he thought he was going to prison as soon as his eyes fluttered open in a hospital room.
- He became friends with the former king of high school Steve Harrington; he also sort of started developing feelings for said man that made him triple his usual dose of cigarettes. But that is a point in the list that Eddie would rather not dwell about.
- Steve Harrington somehow convinced him to listen to his Abba records with him. Eddie made him listen to Dio, so they were sort of even.
- Oh yes— he was invited to the sheriff of Hawkins’ wedding, the same dude that almost caught him selling drugs more times than Eddie could count on the tip of his fingers.
That’s a new point in Eddie Munson’ list.
“I’m sorry” Eddie says, glancing back and forth at the two people seated in front of him. “What?”
Joyce Byers smiles at him, her hand tightly holding Hopper’s one. Jim Hopper looks better, Eddie thinks, his cheeks are round and not hollow and scrawny anymore and his hair has started to grow, making him look like the man who used to scare him to death when Eddie was just a kid.
Hopper looks healthy, happy like Eddie has never seen him before.
“We’d love for you to come to our wedding, dear” Joyce says once more, like Eddie didn’t catch what she has just told him.
The problem is, of course, that Eddie did catch that. He simply can’t get himself to believe it.
“I don’t even have anything proper to wear I–” Eddie starts, trying to think of something, anything, to say that would make them, perhaps, change their minds.
Eddie doesn’t know anything about weddings and the only prospect of having to wear a bowtie for more than two hours makes his skin prickle.
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” his uncle says from the front door, getting ready to go to work. “You can borrow my tuxedo.”
Eddie looks at him, horrified. “You have a tuxedo ?”
Wayne fists his heart, feigning pain. “I’d have you know that I’m a proper gentleman”
“Since when?”
“You’re killing me, you know. You’re killing your poor uncle.” Wayne says, putting on his jacket, the keys of the van hanging from one of his fingers.
“You sure you can’t come, Wayne?” Hopper asks again.
Eddie’s uncle waves his hand around, as if to catch a fly. “I have to work all day, Hop.”
“We’ll send you some cake!” Joyce interjects, smiling brightly.
Wayne laughs and nods. “Joyce, Jim, always a pleasure. See you later, kid.”
When his uncle gets out of the door, muttering about it needing to be repaired, Eddie turns his eyes on Joyce and Hopper once more.
“But why?” He asks, despite himself. The scar on his jaw starts to itch, even if it has fully healed, and it takes Eddie all he has to not scrape it with his nails.
Joyce laughs and Eddie’s heart sinks, sitting alongside his liver. Ms Byers' laughter reminds him of his mother’s. It’s one of the few things Eddie still remembers of her.
“Why what, dear?”
“Why do you want me at your wedding?”
“Why not?”
Eddie’s mouth opens. Why not?
“You’re a good kid, Eddie.” Joyce explains, letting go of Hopper’s hand to go sit next to Eddie, gently pressing her hand on his knee, like she wants to make sure he understands what she’s saying. “The kids love you, our kids love you. You helped Will so much and you’re part of the family. And families invite each other to their weddings.”
Eddie breathes. He can’t possibly start crying in front of Will’s mom and the freaking police, for fuck’ sake.
“Damn, Ms Byers.” Eddie says, and his voice betrays him, cracking right in the middle. “You sure know how to get a guy”.
Joyce smiles. “I also need a smoking buddy that can see me in my dress before the ceremony.”
Hopper rolls his eyes, the strength of it making the sofa creak underneath him.
Eddie raises his palm and places it above his heart. He bows his head, feeling like he has just been knighted and the destiny of the entire kingdom has been put in his hands.
Eddie can’t help the giddish smile that forms on his lips.
“It would be an honor, my lady.”
✦
So now that’s where Eddie is, at a wedding. Trying to properly put on the bowtie he bought for the occasion, for what feels like the twelfth time. It has little white bats flying around, the bowtie. Eddie thought of it as funny, when he saw it at the shop with Robin but now, when his hand slips on the tissue and the bowtie comes undone once again, Eddie thinks that perhaps it has been a sign of the devil himself.
“Shit,” he mutters, looking at himself in the mirror. The tuxedo his uncle gave him fits him perfectly and, even if Eddie knows it’s probably older than him, it looks as good as new. He twisted his hair up in an attempted ponytail, securing it with the miniature dagger Gareth and the others gifted him for his last birthday, to look like someone who actually belongs in a fancy wedding. With his hair out of his face, his scars pop up even more, the reddish color almost sickening against the pale of his skin. Eddie smiles at his reflection.
Not bad, for the spawn of the devil himself. Not bad at all.
Someone knocks on the door and Eddie almost jumps out of his skin.
“Eddie?” Steve calls him. Eddie suddenly feels like he’s drowning. “You okay in there, man?”
He can say yes. He can say yes and go to the ceremony without a piece of cloth squeezing his throat, constricting his lungs.
But he doesn’t want to. He spent five dollars on that stupid piece of cloth, thank you very much.
“No?” Eddie says and then, a second later, the door opens.
And Eddie should have said yes.
Because Steve Harrington is wearing a suit too.
And Eddie hasn’t prepared himself. At all.
Steve is putting on his cufflinks and he still has to raise his eyes on Eddie.
Eddie takes advantage to look at him, really look at him.
Steve belongs in that suit, from the grayish color of it to the way it hugs his hips.
It isn’t as good as new like Eddie’s one, either. It looks more like a tailor had just sewed it on Steve’s body and then sent him on his merry way.
He looks incredible.
“What do you– oh.”
Steve stops mid sentence and roams his eyes on Eddie, up and down and then again, his mouth slightly open. And perhaps Eddie could try jumping out of the window on his left– they are on the first floor, surely it wouldn’t hurt that much.
Shit.
“You look–” Steve tries again, getting closer to him, his arm extended like he wants to touch him or perhaps shove him away. Eddie isn’t quite sure what would be the best option.
Somehow, Eddie finds his voice again. “Yeah, well– don’t get used to it, Harrington. I’m afraid you won’t see me wear one of these things anymore.”
Steve chuckles, his cheeks flushed and Eddie has the sudden urge to kiss them until he could no longer feel his own lips. He shakes his head to let that thought disappear, but it feels like waving a hand around a tick cloak of fog.
“What? So you’re going to wear your little nerd club shirt for your wedding?” Steve asks and Eddie’s mouth goes dry.
Steve locks eyes with him, his head tilted to the side and his eyebrows slightly creased. And for a few mad seconds, Eddie thinks that he isn’t joking, that Steve really wants to know.
And, for what is probably the first time in his life, Eddie doesn't know how to respond.
He smirks, because that he knows how to do, and makes a step closer to Steve.
“You don’t look half as bad yourself, big boy,” he says instead and revels in the way Steve adverts his eyes. Eddie raises his hand to show him the bowtie. “A little help?”
Steve rolls his eyes and takes the piece of tissue from him, the cloth slowly brushing against Eddie’s palm. “Bats? Really?”
“It’s a little inside joke,” Eddie retorts, pointing at his scars. “Now, where were we?”
Steve circles Eddie’s neck with the cloth and then yanks, making Eddie stumble towards him. They find themselves eye to eye and Eddie has again the feeling that something, sharp like a hook, is tugging painfully at his heart.
“Knowing how to wear bowties is too fancy for a guy like you?” Steve asks, creating the first knot, his eyes never leaving Eddie’s.
Eddie, who can feel every brush of Steve’s knuckles against his skin, his fingertips involuntary brushing his Adam’s apple, his breath hitting Eddie’s cheeks. It's overwhelming and not enough at the same time.
“Why would I learn such things when I have you?” Eddie says and it’s meant to be a joke, but his voice comes out way too soft, lacking its usual pitchy tone. Steve doesn’t stop looking at him though, his fingers still working on that stupid piece of fabric.
He pulls on the bowtie, tightening it around Eddie’s neck, before patting it.
“You’re lucky my dad enjoyed bothering me so much about it, then.”
Eddie bows his head, a few strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.
“I thank thee, King Steve for wasting yer precious time to help a poor fellow such as meself.”
And he expects Steve to playfully hit his shoulder and shove him away, like he always does when Eddie is playing with him. Instead, Steve cups his cheek, moving Eddie’s hair behind his ear. And Eddie suddenly needs a manual with detailed instructions to remember how to breathe, because right now it feels like the most difficult thing he has ever done.
“There you are.” Steve murmurs, his eyes soft, stroking his thumb over Eddie’s cheekbone.
It’s not the first time they have been this close to each other, of course. It has happened before, either when they shared a joint after one of Steve’s long shifts or when they whispered nonsense knowing Dustin was close, just to make him mad. But this somehow feels different, new in a way that Eddie can’t describe, like standing in front of a closed door at the end of a long corridor and wondering whether there will be a soul eating monster or a treasure chest full of wonders on the other side.
Eddie wants to open it.
He wants to open the door.
He could lean in, he could lean in and close the small gap that separates their lips, damn the consequences.
But someone knocks on the door, the real one, and whatever bubble has formed around him and Steve bursts, leaving them gasping for air.
Steve backs away, his chest heaving up and down like he had just run a marathon, his eyes wide.
Eddie wonders if he looks like this too. He can feel his heart beating against his ears like waves crashing on the shore.
“Eddie!” Jonathan’s voice comes muffled through the wooden door. “Is Steve with you? I need help with the lights– one of them blow up again.”
Jonathan doesn’t wait for Eddie to respond before opening the door.
He flicks his gaze from Eddie to Steve and back again and, if he sees something in the way they look, bewildered in their eyes, he doesn’t say.
“You guys cleaned up nice,” Jonathan smiles, looking tired.
Eddie circles his arm around Jonathan’ shoulder, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt.
He too is wearing a suit and Eddie is pretty sure Argyle helped him with the tie, considering how crooked it is.
Eddie affectionately pats his cheek. “Same to you, Johnny-o.”
“Are those bats?”
“Ironic, isn’t it?”
“I guess?”
“What was that about the lights?” Steve asks and Eddie turns his gaze on him.
Steve is smiling and there’s something, something in how he’s looking at him, that makes Eddie’s lungs collapse. He looks relieved and Eddie can’t help but wonder why.
Steve passes a hand through his hair and the smell of the Farah Fawcett spray disperses in the air around them.
He fixes his gaze on Jonathan, waiting for an answer, his hand on his hips.
“I need help with them?” Jonathan tries, like he’s being tested and it’s not actually what he came here for. “Oh and Eddie– my mum is looking for you, something about needing her smoking buddy.”
Eddie claps his hand, before rubbing them. He sure needs a cigarette right now.
“My time has come.”
Jonathan narrows his eyes at him. “Do you and my mother have a secret code?”
“Of course we do, Johnny-o,” Eddie says, opening the door and starting to walk down the hallway that he knows leads to Ms Byers dressing room. “She loves me the most.”
“Ah-ah,” Jonathan mocks him.
He and Steve take on the opposite direction as Eddie pats his pocket to find the almost destroyed pack of cigarettes he managed to squeeze in these pants. He takes out one of the two that are still in there, pinching it between his thumb and index fingers, and puts it in his mouth, letting it hang there.
“Munson,” Steve calls him.
Eddie turns around, one foot up in the air and meets the gaze of Steve, who has stopped on the far end of the hallway. He half-smiles and oh– Eddie really needs to smoke, like right now.
“See you there?” Steve asks.
Eddie smirks and, with the cigarette hanging on the corner of his mouth, he nods.
“Keep a seat for me, Harrington.”
✦
Steve does, in fact— and Eddie never expected him to, save him a seat.
Argyle is saying something about a type of weed that Eddie should totally try, my dude, and Eddie nods, smiling when his eyes meet Steve’s one.
Argyle runs to Jonathan, who’s up at the altar, fidgeting with his tie, and hugs him, spinning him around and covering him with compliments that could probably be heard from a mile away.
Steve is already out of his jacket and with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to show his forearms. He motions for Eddie to get closer, pointing at the empty chair next to the one where he placed his jacket. And it shouldn’t mean anything, really, Steve making sure that Eddie will have a place right next to him, Eddie is the one who asked after all– but his chest feels all fuzzy at the sight either way.
The ceremony goes, as everyone hoped, well. Eddie claps and laughs and wraps his arm around Steve’ shoulder when he starts crying during the vows.
“I’m not crying, Munson.” he says. “It’s the allergies.”
But he doesn’t brush Eddie away.
Joyce is radiant, splendid in her dress, her kids standing beside her at the altar. Murray, who apparently has enough acquaintances to officiate a wedding, Eddie wouldn’t dare to ask how, finishes off by telling the pair to kiss, for Christ’ sake.
Hopper glares at him, before Joyce puts her arms around his neck and brings him down to kiss her.
The farm where they decided to host the wedding reception is big, too big for the amount of guests that it holds.
Eddie sits down as soon as he finds a chair and, not long after, Dustin sits next to him.
“Cool bowtie.” Dustin says, scraping a fork against the empty plate. He has the biggest smile on his face, his hair slicked back, almost shining. Eddie suspects a certain babysitter had to do with it.
“I know.”
“Are you guys already tired?”
Eddie raises his eyes to meet Steve’s inquiring ones.
He does need another cigarette.
“Weddings are tiring business, Harrington.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m going to find Robin.”
He strolls off, the hem of his jacket striking from side to side with every movement of his hips.
Eddie takes out the last cigarette, lighting it up.
Dustin walks away too, something about making sure Max doesn't steal all the ham sandwiches before he even has the chance to have one.
Eddie is left alone, the glass in front of him full of what he makes out as champagne, begging him to take a sip.
Eddie wonders if he could get drunk just by drinking flute after flute of fancy bubbles, the taste mixing up with the tobacco in his mouth.
Someone screams something and a crowd forms in front of Eddie, their arms up in the air and their laughter filling Eddie’s ear.
All that's left of the cigarette is the filter but Eddie inhales anyway, the aftertaste burning on his tongue.
The screaming grows louder and then something heavy falls on Eddie’s lap. And he thinks that perhaps, Dustin came back with the entire trail of sandwiches and flipped it over him, so he could hide it from Max’s hungry eyes.
He sips on his drink twice before realizing that something is wrong. Everyone is looking at him.
Not that he does mind the attention but–
Then he hears Robin chuckling and when Eddie looks at her, she’s looking at Steve, whose eyes are wide and cheeks red and Eddie really doesn't understand what on earth is going on.
So he drops his gaze on his lap.
And it’s Joyce’s bouquet that sits there.
Oh. That’s bullshit. That’s utter bullshit.
Eddie squints at Joyce, who simply shrugs, a sheepish smile on her lips, before waltzing away in the arms of her husband.
Eddie gently touches the petal of one of the daisies with his fingertips. The bouquet looks nice, El and Will probably put it together using the flowers around the farm.
“I gotta ask.”
Eddie jolts on the chair, the glass still half full of champagne almost slipping from his hand.
Max is sitting next to him, her legs crossed underneath her.
“Why are you wearing a bowtie with bats?”
Eddie laughs and he hopes Steve isn’t looking at him anymore because he finished the cigarettes and champagne cannot do as much.
“I don’t know,” he reveals, handing Max the bouquet. She raises her eyebrows at him. “Do you need a ride to get back home?”
“Don’t worry,” she says, making a scene of picking up a flower from the mix, before putting it in Eddie’s hair. “I’m staying with El tonight. We’re having a girls’ sleepover.”
He smiles. “Don’t eat all of Dustin’s ham sandwiches.”
“I won’t if he’ll ask nicely.” Max nudges his shoulder, getting up and leaving the bouquet once again in Eddie’s lap. “Robin said to tell you to stop thinking too loud, you’re giving her a headache”.
Eddie flips the bird in what he hopes is the direction of where the girl is sitting. He stands correct, as Robin calls after him, before giving him the bird in return.
Eddie hears laughter and his eyes involuntarily move to follow the sound.
Steve and Dustin are walking toward him, Dustin’s arms full of food, a goofy smile pulling at his lips.
Steve is beside him, his bowtie hanging from his neck, untied. He opened a couple of buttons of his shirt, revealing the white scar that wraps around his throat.
He sees Eddie looking at him and waves.
Eddie should have bought another pack of cigarettes.
“Can the two of you please talk like normal adults?” Max asks, stealing the flute from Eddie’s hand to have a sip. “I need to win the bet against Murray.”
Eddie snatches the glass back and watches as Max strolls away, probably off to find Lucas and Erica.
“You and Murray have a bet?” He screams but he doubts Max can hear him over the melody the band is playing.
“What bet?” Steve asks, as he sits down next to Eddie.
He licks his thumb, before putting it in his mouth to suck what Eddie guesses is mustard out of his fingertip.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eddie teases, filling his glass once again. If he keeps going on like this, he will finish the bottle all by himself.
Steve watches him as he gulps down the champagne, his eyebrows creased and mouth twitched in a thin line.
“Are you okay?”
Eddie smiles, because really, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be okay.
“This bowtie is constricting my lungs.” he says, leaning into Steve’ space. “You sure you didn’t want to choke me, big boy?”
Steve’s eyes widen, just a tiny bit, but Eddie is able to see it anyway. He smirks, his lips touching the edge of the glass, without really drinking the alcohol in it.
It’s fun. It's fun teasing Steve Harrington.
Shame it won’t lead to anything more.
Steve shoves him off. “You’re impossible, Munson.”
“So they say”.
The tilting of cutlery against a glass stops their weird staring contest and Eddie glances down, catching himself off guard by the smile that forms on his lips.
“Can I have your attention, please?” Hopper’s loud voice bounces on the walls, making everyone look at him.
The newly weds are seated in the center of the room, the long tables connected on either side of them. Hopper is standing, his nose red from drinking and his eyes watery from crying, even though he would never admit it. He’s gently squeezing Ms Byers’ shoulder and the way they look at each other makes Eddie want to avert his eyes. It’s a personal, raw feeling Eddie didn’t have the luck to witness before.
Hopper starts talking but Eddie only half-listens.
He looks at Steve instead.
The dim lights that are hanging from the ceiling reflect in his hair, in his smile, and Eddie is afraid he’ll be going blind if he keeps staring like this but he can’t help it. It’s like watching the stars after a storm.
“I can hear you thinking.” Steve whispers, tilting his head to look at him. “What is it?”
Eddie shrugs, resting his elbow on the back of Steve’s chair. He points his chin towards Joyce and Hopper.
“Love, you know.” he says and he’s caught off guard by how Steve is looking at him, in such an open and carefree way.
“I do.” Steve murmurs, his arms crossed over his chest. He gazes down at Eddie’s lips and then up to meet his eyes again. Eddie doesn’t know what's going on, blood rushing in his veins like an overflow river. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right person to show up.”
It takes more than Eddie would care to admit for his brain to register the words Steve just said to him. It takes him even longer to realize that, for the first time since Eddie has known him, Steve didn’t say girl.
Steve is looking at him expectantly, his breath heavy and his eyes big, so big Eddie could probably get lost in there, if only he dared to.
Eddie swallows, tongue tied. “I–”
“Eddie!” Will calls him, with a urgence that only belongs to someone who has already consumed their daily dose of sugar. “Come dance with us!”
Eddie doesn’t strain his eyes away from Steve, hoping that the words he has been munching on for months will finally find a way to run up his esophagus and out of his mouth.
They don’t.
Steve’ smirk hasn’t faded, but the light in his eyes has. He claps his hand on Eddie’s knee, sending a jolt of electricity that curls pleasantly on his lower stomach.
“Go dance.” Steve whispers, almost reluctantly. “Before they come here to drag you.”
And Eddie decides that it’s time to be brave, just for a song or two.
“Only if you come with me.”
Steve opens his mouth to respond but, as he so thoughtfully predicted, the kids are quicker. Will and Lucas grab Eddie’s wrists, dragging him out of his chair and making him twirl on the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie sees Dustin and Erica do the same with Steve, who mumbles something about being a terrible dancer, really guys, just ask Nance.
“It’s a group dance, Steve. ” Dustin says, amused. “I’m sure you can manage it.”
Steve is, indeed, a terrible dancer. He moves his hands sporadically and almost knocks Mike unconscious with a well studied elbow strike– twice. The kids laugh, doing nothing to help him and Eddie watches, his lips curled in a pleased smile.
Steve points a finger at him. “Don’t laugh.”
Eddie sways his hips, getting closer to him. He feels sweat slowly dripping down his back and the funky music the band is playing reverberates inside his ribcage, following the frantic rhythm of his heart.
“I wasn’t going to,” he whispers, his lower lip brushing against Steve’s ear. Steve’s breath hitches and Eddie can see the hair on the back of his neck rising. He wonders if, this close to each other, Steve can actually hear the thoughts that are fumbling in his brain, the reason why he keeps searching for a pack of cigarettes that he knows isn’t really there.
For the few seconds in which Eddie stands this close to him, Steve’s hair tickling his nose, the world stops. It feels like it’s the two of them there, Steve’s aftershave making his head spin, the dim lights casting weird shapes on their faces– awful music that any other day of the week Eddie would cover his ears not to hear, making him want to dance with Steve until his feet hurt.
“You’re awful, Munson,” Steve murmurs, a soft shade of pink starting to creep on his cheeks.
The song changes and more people join the dance floor, laughing and dragging the ones that are too shy to get up from the chairs.
Eddie smirks. “I thought you liked me, Harrington.”
Steve holds his gaze, his mouth a thin line, sweat falling down his neck and landing on the hollow space between his collarbones. Eddie follows every drop as it races down Steve’ skin, wondering if the one he chose will win.
“God help me.” Steve says, and Eddie swears he hears his voice quiver. “I do.”
Then someone grabs his hand, taking him away from Steve’s scrutinizing eyes and Eddie doesn’t know whether to be grateful about it or not.
The world starts turning again.
“Care for a dance?” Nancy asks him.
She is beaming, her cheeks red and lipstick smudged where Eddie is pretty sure Robin kissed her senseless not so long ago. She squeezes his hands, warm against his palms, and Eddie smiles.
“My Wheeler,” he says, trying to see Steve’s face in the crowd that has formed around them. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Eddie does dance until his feet hurt. Only not with Steve Harrington.
They waltz around each other quite a lot, never reaching the point of grabbing each other's hands, always being dragged away at the last second by someone else. Eddie dances and laughs, his hair slowly escaping the forced confinement of the improvised bun.
He makes Joyce twirls in her dress, her pure laugh echoing on the walls and he even improvises a hoedown with Will and Dustin.
When Eddie’s pretty sure he has danced with everyone at least twice, his breath coming out in shallow puffs, he searches for Steve.
“He’s outside.” Robin tells him, circling her arms around his neck from behind. She smells of roses and something else, sweet like cotton candy. “Don’t tell him I sent you.”
Eddie smiles. “I won’t”.
✦
Stepping outside after being enveloped in the warmth of the farm for so long, feels like setting foot into a different dimension.
Eddie breathes in, the fresh air of the evening burning his lungs, freezing them. He turns his head to his left and catches his breath before it escapes out of his mouth. Steve is leaning against the wooden wall of the farm, the lighter that he’s using to burn the spliff held between his index and middle finger the only thing to give color to his face, that warm orange that makes his eyes look like fresh honey.
“Oh my,” Eddie exclaims, bouncing in his direction, the grass staining the top of his shoes. “Is Steve Harrington smoking weed this close to the police?”
He nudges his shoulder against Steve’s, looking up as the blueish sky gives place to the first stars.
“Argyle let it slide in my pocket after the ceremony,” Steve shrugs, passing the joint to Eddie, who gladly accepts. “Apparently the groom cop is keeping an eye on me, man.”
Eddie snorts at the imitation, choking on the smoke he just inhaled.
“We’ve been a bad influence for you.”
The silence is comforting, the faint music coming from inside lulling them as they pass the spliff back and forth, their shoulders pressed together and fingers brushing. Eddie feels his head as light as a feather, the champagne and whatever mix of stuff Argyle put in what he just smoked to blame and he’s absolutely sure that, as soon as Steve opens his mouth, he would fall apart.
So Eddie talks first.
“I’m pretty sure you owe me a dance.”
Steve scoffs but he doesn’t brush the idea away. He smiles instead.
“Why do you have bats on your tie?”
Jesus Christ.
Steve steps in front of him, his eyes almost pleading, the joint so burned out Eddie is afraid it would leave a burn on Steve’s fingers if he doesn’t let go of it.
“Would it be weird if I told you it reminded me of you?” Eddie says, his voice barely above a whisper.
Of all the days Steve could have done this, of all the times he could have started to push the door that Eddie has left slightly open for so long— did it really have to be today?
“You know, the whole saving me and carrying my bloody and dying self in your strong arms out of another dimension.” Eddie continues, his tongue feeling heavy as a stone as he speaks. He’s not even sure Steve is listening to him. He's not even sure of what he’s saying, if he’s being honest, words coming out of his mouth before he has the time to elaborate them in his head. “You know we have matching scars?”
Steve steps closer to him, his breath grazing Eddie’s cheek. The music inside has changed, some funky 60s tune that probably made Hopper roll on the dance floor like he owns the place.
He concentrates on Steve though, how he takes Eddie’s hair out of the bun, letting it fall down his shoulders, how his eyes linger on the scar on Eddie’s jaw before tentatively touching it with his thumb, stroking it back and forth.
Eddie really needs a cigarette.
Steve looks determined. He starts untying Eddie’s bowtie, his movements agonizingly slow.
“Would it be weird if I told you I want to kiss you?”
Oh.
Oh.
How is he supposed to respond to that? Should Eddie tell him to roll for charisma? Should he just say yes– God, Eddie wants to say yes so bad.
Steve grabs him by both ends of the cloth and yanks him forward, brushing his lips against Eddie’s before the latter finds something charming enough to say and it’s like— it feels like they have done it a million times before. It’s like Eddie already knows the softness of Steve’s mouth, the way his breath itches when Eddie responds, just like he knows Steve has two twins moles behind his left ear or the exact tilts of his eyebrows when he scolds Dustin or again how Steve likes to sing to Tears for Fears at work when he’s reorganizing the VHS tapes.
Eddie opens his mouth under Steve’s one, the faint taste of weed and champagne melting on his tongue, his hands tangling into Steve’s hair, shock waves making him curl his fingers.
Steve’s hands come up to cup the curved space between his jaw and neck and Eddie is sure that Steve is able to feel his frantic pulse as it beats against the firm press of Steve’s palms.
It seems Steve knows his lips too. Just like he knows when Eddie stays up all night to write a new campaign for the kids or how he always knows when Eddie is hungry and when he needs to step outside to have a smoke.
Then Steve gently pushes him until his back hits the wall, swallowing with his tongue the choked out moan Eddie makes at the impact.
And this– this feels like uncharted territory and Eddie is in dying need of a map. But then again, Eddie lives for these sorts of things, doesn’t he? He’s an adventurer after all—
And Steve Harrington is one hell of a glorious quest.