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Normally, Steve would hate this.
Steve had been at the Hideout before, but this -- this was a hot and humid basement under an already shitty bar that was entirely packed with bodies. The music was way too loud and the chatter and screams of the crowd were even louder. He was dressed in pants that were too tight and a shirt that was just a little too short on account of it not being his, and his hair was slicked back with too much product while the rest of him was drenched in sweat.
Steve Harrington should have hated this, but with Eddie smiling so widely at him from stage, how could he?
This venue was not the normal place the Corroded Coffin usually played. Instead of exposed brick and metal posters covering the walls, the room was made up in a way that reminded Steve of one of those 1920s “speakeasies” he heard about in history class, or maybe his grandma’s house. The walls were polished wood with beveled trim, and despite the pink and blue lighting from the stage, he could tell they were painted in neutral tones of white and beige. The stage itself had a catwalk right down the middle making the whole thing more T-shaped and giving Eddie a perfect place to stand right in the center of it all.
It was moments like this that reminded Steve exactly how captivating Eddie truly was when he wanted to be. Haloed by pink and blue lights, Eddie looked like a burning building, igniting sparks and roaring flames metaphorically flickering off his skin with every head bang or toss of his wild hair. He was a spectacle, wrapped in leather and torn cloth, Steve was confident he knew what Greek myths were talking about when mortals were tricked into falling in love with the gods. Steve was not a smart man, but he could have learned to wax poetically for Eddie; he would have studied the moon and stars and all of space and time if it meant he could truly captivate how Eddie made him feel in words.
He was ethereal like a shooting star, and Steve wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab it, holding its ephemeral shape close to his chest.
Steve caught Eddie’s eye, rimmed in dark eyeliner that was streaking down his face with sweat, and the metal head blinked, the steady rhythm of words never faltering as they fell from his lips.
Steve was not one for metal music, but he could learn to be, learn to love it for Eddie.
That was the difference, Steve decided. Loving Nancy and loving Eddie were similar, but distinctly different and Steve guessed that was why. Loving Nancy made Steve want to be more than he could be, made him want to learn to be smart because maybe that would make her love him. Loving Eddie just made Steve just want to learn to love more, not because he thought Eddie wanted it, but because Steve wanted it.
Because loving Eddie was easy. He was so ridiculously easy to fall in love with, Steve was confused as to how half of Hawkins wasn’t fighting for his affections.
’Good.’ He thought. ’Less competition.’
The show was a whirlwind, and before Steve could even process everything happening to him, it was over. Eddie had told him to wait by the bar for the crowd to clear out a little and to give the band a little time to pack up, but as he sat by the barstools, eyes locked onto the door that lead backstage, he couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing anxiously, almost trying to will Eddie to open that door with his brain.
He would have called himself stupid for trying, but after Eleven showed up, who knows? Maybe he could get mind powers.
Slowly, his bandmates began to trickle out. First Gareth left, who had the least to pack up since he was the drummer. Then a bit later, Jeff and the guy who played bass that Steve could never quite remember the name of exited, their respective instruments in hand as they left the bar.
After an eternity, out came Eddie.
On stage, he commanded attention. It seemed like he lived and breathed off of attention. But now? Now that the stage lights had come up and the bar was playing a prerecorded track or something on the radio, Eddie only had his focus on Steve.
“Hey, Stevie!” His voice was clearly a little hoarse from the performance, but that never seemed to stop him. “What’d you think?”
Steve wanted to tell him. He wanted to let Eddie know it was the show to end all shows. He wanted to tell him it was fascinating and enchanting and breathtaking and a million other words Steve couldn’t even begin to describe. He wanted to tell him Steve could die right now knowing he would never see a better show ever again.
But Steve choked, and instead he said “Yeah, it was really good man, I loved it.”
Eddie smiled, his eyes twinkling under the lights of the bar. Steve wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him. “You don’t gotta lie to me, Stevie.”
“I’m not!” He laughed as he spoke, carding a hand through his hair. “I really liked it. You-- you did really good up there.”
Eddie’s teeth peaked through his lips as he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides. Oh Steve really wanted to kiss him. Eddie reached forward grabbing the lapels of the jean vest Steve wore. It was Eddie’s, but he had told Steve to wear it for him during the show, telling him to keep it safe. “Well well well, Stevie, we may make a metalhead out of you yet.”
Steve sucked in a breath. With Eddie’s hands gripping the fabric of the vest and holding him close --maybe it was the humid air -- but Steve would have sworn he felt Eddie’s breath ghost across his lips, the two of them forced into close proximity in the crowded bar. Steve was sinking and floating all at once. He was about to kiss Eddie. He had kissed people before, he knew what the preamble of a kiss felt like and he was confident he was about to kiss Eddie.
And suddenly the loudness and the hotness of the bar were wholly overwhelming. Steve was spiraling, what if they kissed and Eddie decided he didn’t like it, didn’t like him? He could handle an eternity of yearning, but he knew a broken heart might kill him. Steve felt his stomach do a nosedive because suddenly Eddie’s chest was pressed against his, and against all better judgment he felt his own hands betray him and ghost over Eddie’s hips and he was about to kiss him, and after this everything was going to be thrown off balance and if it didn't go right their friendship may never recover, because waking up tangled around one of your best friends after a night of cuddling is one thing, but kissing was a whole different battle to fight.
Despite this, Steve still wanted nothing more than to kiss Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson.
“Uh, Mr. Munson?” Eddie’s eyes flickered over Steve’s shoulder where the bartender stood behind him, and suddenly Steve was back in reality because they were in public, and what if someone saw them? “There’s a phone call for you.”
Eddie shifted away from Steve, accepting the phone from the bartender, his fingers instantly tangling into the cord. “Hello?” He paused. “Gareth? Man, what the hell, you just left five minutes ago? What are you calling-”
Eddie went silent for a second, his playful tone dropping far too quickly. “Are you shitting me, man? If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”
Steve turned, a hand landing on the metalhead’s shoulder. “What's going on?”
“Well, are you okay?” Eddie continued, ignoring Steve’s question for now. “Oh just me, huh? Of fuckin’ course. No! Go home before he sees you, dude! Me and Harrington can handle it.” Steve’s face screwed into a look of confusion and concern. What the hell was going on? “Alright, I’ll call you when I get home… if I do so in one piece. Talk to you soon.”
Eddie handed the phone back to the bartender, turning to Steve. “It’s Jason.”
Steve steeled himself, standing a little straighter. “What happened?”
Eddie combed a hand through his hair anxiously. “Nothing yet. Apparently, he accidentally ran into the band and now is sniffing around for me.” He slammed his hand against the countertop. “Fuck! He has all of Indianapolis and he just has to walk down this street!”
“Hey, hey,” Steve shushed, grabbing Eddie’s shoulders, “we’re gonna figure this out. Do you know if it was just him, or was he with people?”
“With people.” Eddie bit his lip. “I-- follow me, I have an idea.”
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Eddie had already wrapped a hand around Steve’s wrist and was pulling him through the crowd, toward the backstage door.
It was just their luck that someone was exiting just as they were attempting to enter, a taller, bulky woman with hair buzzed almost down to her scalp. She looked surprised to see Eddie as she stood in the doorway.
“Eddie, sweetheart, I thought you left? You forget something backstage?” She spoke with the thickest southern accent Steve had ever heard in real life as she shuffled out of the way, letting the duo duck backstage.
“Uh, not quite.” Eddie choked out a nervous laugh, his hand dropping from Steve’s wrist. “I just got a call from Gareth, there's a group of teens from a school outside looking to find and kill me.”
Apparently, that was all the convincing the woman needed. “Well shoot, do they know where you are?”
He shook his head. “No, they just saw the rest of the band and know I’m in the general area. Luckily, we took Steve’s car so they shouldn’t be able to recognize where we parked.”
The woman thought for a moment. “So we just need to get you two out of here and to your vehicle without being seen, huh?” Eddie nodded and she turned on her heels. “Let's go talk to the girls, and see if we can come up with a plan.”
Traversing the backstage area was like walking through a maze, but Eddie and the unnamed woman seemed to know where they were going, leading him past abandoned stage equipment to a hallway behind the stage until they were knocking on the door labeled ‘Green Room’.
“Y’all decent in there?” the woman shouted above the muffled chatter of the busy bar.
After being met with a chorus of “Yes, Ms. Sullivan!”, which Steve guessed was the woman’s name, she pushed the door open. Inside were three men, seemingly in the middle of setting up the largest collection of makeup, Steve had ever seen in his life. On the far end of the room was a rack of clothing drenched in sequence, glitter, feathers, or any other extravagant detail you would even consider could go on a dress.
The tallest of the men stood up, pulling his blonde hair back into a loose ponytail as he looked Steve and Eddie up and down. “Ms. Sullivan, I know we’re getting old but please tell me you wouldn’t dream of replacing us with these children.” Despite his tone, a smile was pulled across his face.
The woman rolled her eyes, closing the door behind them. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, none of you are fired. We got a bit of a situation on our hands though. Apparently, there's a pack of kids tryin’ to hunt down our little rockstar here. We just need to find a way to get them out of the building and to their car without being jumped.”
One of the men still sat in front of the mirror where the makeup was piled, running dabbing a sponge across his skin. He was shorter and more rotund, and despite his reserved tone, Steve saw as his eyes flickered in the reflection, looking the two of the up and down. “What's the situation? Scorned lover or something?
Eddie grimaced. “No, he, uh, he thinks I killed his girlfriend.”
Silence filled the greenroom, only interrupted by the muffled sounds of the bar.
The last man spoke up, crossing his arms. “Well… did you?”
Steve grit his teeth. “No! Eddie didn’t fucking kill anyone! God!” He was so fucking sick of people thinking the worst of Eddie. He wasn’t a murderer, or a satanist, or a bad influence, or any of the million terrible names the world had thrown at him. Eddie was kind and passionate, and despite his outer appearance, he was sensitive, and god Steve loved all of it.
Ms. Sullivan stepped forward. “Cool it, Ella.”
“Jesus, kid’s got some attack dogs,” the man at the mirror joked. “His boytoy was about to bite your head off, girl.”
Steve flushed. “I-- We’re not--”
The woman cut him off. “Are you queens just gonna stand there, or are you actually gonna actually help?”
Finally, the taller of the men stepped forward, grabbing Steve by the chin, turning his face as if to study him. “Yeah, I got an idea. Do you know what dress size you wear, kid?”
Steve sputtered, his mind going blank. “I-- uh, what?”
“As much fun as it would be to play dress up--” Eddie stepped forward, “--how exactly is getting into drag going to help us right now?”
“You just need to get to your car, right?” The man dropped his hold on Steve’s face. “They’re gonna be looking for you two, but they’re not gonna be looking for a set of beautiful queens.” Steve’s brain was running at a million miles an hour. How did he get here? How did he just happen to fall into these situations?
Ms. Sullivan clapped a hand hard on Steve’s shoulder. “Connie, that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”
The man, apparently named Connie, gave a shrug, turning back to the makeup as he began collecting supplies. “You may pay me to be pretty, but that doesn’t mean I can’t think.”
Ella spoke up at this. “Last week you told me there wasn’t a difference between chicken and ostrich feathers.”
The last, unnamed man rolled his eyes. “Dibs on the boyfriend, which one of you wants to dress up our rockstar?”
“Oh, we’re doing this,” Eddie said it more like a statement than a question as if he was trying to convince himself.
“Unless the peanut gallery has any better ideas,” Connie hummed out, flipping open an eyeshadow palette and gesturing for the duo to take the remaining seats in front of the mirror. “I’ll take Eddie, we all know Mrs. Ella Gants needs all the time she can have when getting ready.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Ella said but didn’t raise any other protest.
And that was how Steve Harrington found himself sitting in the greenroom of what he now knew to be a gay bar, letting a drag queen do his makeup.
“I’m DiAngela, by the way.” The last drag queen said, grabbing Steve’s wrist and swatching stuff against his skin. “Never caught your name.”
“Uh, Steve.” He said simply, glancing over at Eddie, who despite everything, still looked all the world to be in his element.
“Well, Steve,” DiAngela seemed satisfied, taking one of the tubes from the counter and beginning to smear it across Steve’s face. “We’ll try and get you and your boyfriend out of here as fast as possible, but beauty does take time, so try and be patient with us.”
Steve flushed again. “Oh-- uh, no I-- we aren’t dating. I’m-- we’re just friends.”
DiAngela leaned back, raising an eyebrow at him. “Alright, you keep telling yourself that.”
“I’m-- that’s not a lie. We are just friends,” Steve tried to convince, his eyes flickering over to Eddie, who was in the middle of what seemed to be a fascinating conversation with Connie.
“Ugh, you young people are impossible. Close your eyes,” DiAngela muttered, forcing Steve to turn his head to the left. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, but I’d recommend acting on it soon, darling.”
Steve complied, his eyes sliding shut as he felt something cold gently run over his eyelids. “I-- why?”
DiAngela hummed softly. “The world’s a scary place, but I know all too well you can shoot yourself in the foot by taking too much time.” The drag queen leaned in, whispering into Steve’s ear. “Between you and me, with the way he looks at you? I’d give my left kidney if he says no.”
Steve felt his mouth go dry, not knowing what to do or say, so instead he shut his mouth, letting DiAngela do his work.
His work? Her work? Steve wasn’t quite sure.
“My god, DiAngela, what the hell are you doing?” Steve heard Ella call out after a lingering moment of silence between them, and he peeled his eyes open.
“Girl, what do you think I’m doing?” DiAngela stepped back to look at the other man. “I’m trying to make a prince into a queen. I don’t see you helping out!”
“The hell you are!” Ella laughed loud and nasily. “It doesn’t have to look good girl, it just has to trick a straight boy, and they are famously stupid.”
“I need you to mind your own damn business right now.” DiAngela rolled her eyes, turning back to look at Steve. “I’m going for a Dolly Parton feel, it’s gonna take a second.”
Steve heard Eddie laugh from his side of the room, and Connie turned to give her two cents on the situation. “Dolly Parton? Girl, you missed the 9 and went straight to 5.”
“That’s because I’m not fuckin’ done yet, bitch!” DiAngela hissed out. “Oh, and you’re one to talk! Your girl looks like if the Ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future had a fucked up child.”
Steve snuck a look over at Eddie. His smeared eyeliner had been wiped off, and to replace it he had green glittery eyeshadow across his eyelids, thick black liner around his eyes. . His lips were bright cherry red, and it was gaudy and obnoxious, but entirely Eddie, and while it might have been interesting to see his face contoured in a way Steve had never seen before, it didn’t stop him from wanting to kiss Eddie so damn badly.
If anything, it made it worse. For a dangerous second, Steve imagined Eddie’s cherry red lips pressed against his own lips and face, leaving a trail of bright red marks in their wake. He wondered if the color was just for show, or if it tasted like cherries as well.
Connie barked out a laugh. “Di, watch yourself. You don’t even have eyeshadow on your girl yet.”
“It’s a process!” DiAngela barked back before finally returning to Steve’s face. “Didn’t realize it was a damn race, Jesus. Can you believe these girls?”
“Uh,” Steve stammered, not quite knowing what to say. “No, ma’am?”
“HA!” Connie snorted out the loudest laugh Steve had ever heard. “Girl, this one is funny, you better keep him around.”
Eddie chuckled, glancing over at Steve. “I try my best, ma’am”
“Oh, I see, I’m being mocked.” Steve rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, maybe it’s best you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, darling.” DiAngela hummed out. “Now close your eyes again.”
There was a lot of that in makeup, Steve realized. Close your eyes, open your eyes, don’t blink, smack your lips together, okay, close your eyes again. It was a lot of instruction, and all the while Steve had no idea what he looked like.
“Ella, do you have that wig from your Morticia Adams look?” Connie asked after a while, turning to the third drag queen.
“Connie, that was a lace front.” She said simply, like that changed everything.
“Okay, and?”
“Girl, we don’t have time to mess with lace fronts! If we have to go with bangs then he’s getting bangs!” Ella said with a chuckle, zipping open a duffle bag. “Here, it’s more Elvira than Morticia, but it’ll cover all his hair. DiAngela, what kinda wing are you thinking?”
“I was gonna use the blonde one I have.” She turned to gesture to her own bag. “You know, the one you say makes me look like Big Bird’s ugly duckling sister.”
Ella snorted. “Oh, that’s gonna look amazing.” Her voice was dripping in condescension. “And what are we thinking or the outfit? Parachute pants? Maybe a patchwork blouse?”
“Girl, you are getting on my last nerve.” DiAgnela shook her head. “We’re going Dolly remember, clearly I’ve got my eyes on that pink sequin look Connie’s got.”
“What? Why my dress?” Connie glanced over from where she stood in front of the dress rack. “You have the same exact dress.”
“Like any of my stuff is gonna fit him,” DiAgnela snarked back. “You’re the only one with quarterback shoulders like he has.”
“Girl, I know you did not just call them quarterback shoulders--”
“Ladies,” Ms. Sullivan cut in. “We literally do not have time for your squabbling. Get them in wigs and dresses and let's get out of here.”
Despite the roll of her eyes, DiAngela quickly fitted a wig cap over Steve’s hair, fitting a truly huge blonde wig over his head. As she was futzing with the new hair that fell around his face, making sure it wouldn’t fall off, Steve glanced over at Eddie, who now wore a long black wig, the hair laying flat, and looking completely out of place when compared to his normal curly mess of hair.
“Is this gonna fit you?” Connie muttered, holding up a short black dress against Eddie’s chest. It was cut with a plunging neckline and was fully sleeveless. Steve almost felt his mouth water. It would be the most revealing thing Eddie’s ever worn, hands down.
“Oh, uh,” the metalhead hesitated, “I’ve got like, a bunch of tattoos and… other stuff we probably want to cover.”
Other stuff? What other stuff? But Connie didn’t pry, simply putting the dress back and pulling a different look from the rack.
It turned out, putting on makeup was 90% of the time it took to get into drag, as getting squeezed into a dress and heels, although uncomfortable, was relatively easy.
“Oh my god,” Eddie chuckled out. “Have you seen yourself?”
“I-- have I seen myself?” Steve laughed back, eyes lingering on Eddie’s form. After the dress had been put back, Connie had pulled out a long sleeve black jumpsuit, a green belt hugging his waist just right, and boots that made him an inch or two taller than Steve. “Have you seen yourself?”
“Yes, and I look like a million bucks. You look like if Dolly Parton was a birthday clown.” Steve had to admit, he felt silly. After displaying he couldn’t walk for shit in heels, he had been allowed to wear his sneakers as long as he “didn’t bring attention to his feet”, whatever that meant, but he did realize they didn’t match the hot pink sequin dress that was currently cutting into his ribs.
Suddenly, he understands why Robin was complaining so much about the outfit Nancy had forced her into.
A quick look in the mirror told Steve that Eddie wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t exactly right either. His eyelids were stained bright pink and he was pretty sure he’d never seen eyelashes this long ever in his life, and that didn’t even cover the hot pink lipstick on his lips, making them appear bigger than they actually were. He felt like a Barbie doll, and while it definitely felt weird, he also felt… pretty.
Which, yeah, he guessed that made sense. It’s logical that when wearing a pound and a half of makeup, one would tend to feel pretty, but Steve hadn’t really ever thought of himself as pretty before.
Hell, he had stopped thinking he looked even close to attractive around three years ago.
“Alright, we need to get you girls out of here.” Ms. Sullivan gestured for them to follow her as she picked up the bag they had shoved all their normal clothes into. “Ella, you’re already dressed so you come with too. Safety in numbers.”
“Thanks for all the help.” Eddie turned to Connie, moving to shake her hand when the older drag queen pulled him into a hug.
“It’s no problem. Next time I see you I better get that jumpsuit back,” she hummed back, earning a laugh from the metalhead. “Stay safe, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, thanks so much.” Steve pulled his attention away from the mirror, toward the man that had done his makeup.
“Remember what I said,” DiAngela said with a nod. “You knock ‘em dead, kid.”
“Alright, chop chop, we ain’t got all night and you two still gotta get into makeup,” Ella called out, slipping on the highest heels Steve had ever seen in his life before hooking his arm with Eddie, leading him out and leaving Steve to follow along behind them.
Steve sucked in a breath. Getting dressed up in a private room without judgment was one thing, but going out into the world in a wig and a dress? That was a horse of an entirely different color. He found himself speeding up, linking his arm with Eddie so that his blind side was covered by the other boy, all the while his head was on a swivel. Despite the fact they still hadn’t even left the bar yet, he was already preparing himself for an attack.
And these people did this every night? Fuck.
The cold night air hit Steve’s face before he had even realized he was outside, the city street lit by street lamps and neon signs.
“Which car is yours?” Ms. Sullivan asked, leading them toward the parking lot. No signs of Carver yet.
“It’s, uh--” Steve was fumbling for words. What did his car look like? “It’s the red 1981 BMW sedan.”
“God, Mr. Daddy Warbucks over here.” Ella cackled. “I’m with Connie now, you better keep this boy around.”
Eddie cracked a smile, chuckling softly, and for a moment Steve was a little less terrified. Even if the joke was kinda at his expense, Steve could live with that if it kept Eddie smiling.
But this was just the calm before the storm.
“Hey!” Pure terror trickled down Steve’s spine, and he felt Eddie lock up next to him. Oh no. They were so close, Steve’s car was only a couple of feet away, of course now was when they got caught.
“Shit.” Eddie hissed out, under his breath. “That’s him.”
“Just keep walking,” Steve heard Ella hum, her joking tone entirely gone. She moved with confidence as if she had done this before. “You aren’t doing anything wrong. Just keep walking.”
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Ms. Sullivan finally turned around, and Steve risked a glance over his shoulder. It was dark, and he was backlit by the street lamp, but even cloaked in shadows and half a parking lot away, Steve could make out the sharp contours of Jason Carver’s face. Flanking him were two members of the basketball team that Steve had never bothered to learn the names of.
“I’m sorry, boys.” Ms. Sullivan pushed past Steve, putting herself between Eddie and Jason, despite the fact he was still so far away. “Didn’t realize you were talking to us. What seems to be the problem here?”
He paused, and Steve couldn’t see his eyes but he knew he was looking at them. What if the makeup and the wigs weren’t enough? What if he saw right through the disguises? Could Steve fight in a dress? Maybe he was about to find out the answer to that last one.
“We’re looking for someone,” Jason answered after a moment. “Around 20, long hair, tattoos, have you seen him?”
Ms. Sullivan tapped her chin as if she were thinking. “You know, I do not recall seeing anyone of that description tonight. Girls, does that sound familiar?”
“Nope,” Ella cut in without hesitation. “We’ve been inside all night anyway.”
Jason pushed off the streetlight, beginning to move closer. “What about your friends?”
“I’m gonna ask you to stay right there and not move closer.” Ms. Sullivan spat out like it was poison on her tongue.
Jason did stop, but not without question. “Or what?”
“I don’t think you small-town boys understand.” She grinned viciously as she spoke. “You may think you lot are a bunch of big shots, but you happen to find yourselves on my turf. Now if you would like to take the risk and find out exactly what that means, be my guest.” She took a threatening step forward, and suddenly Steve was very glad this woman was on their side. “But if I were you, I’d scurry on home now. Wouldn’t want to worry your mothers now.”
Steve watched as Jason paused, weighing his options. With a wave of relief, Jason turned his back on them. “Whatever, guess that's what I get from asking a bunch of faggots for help.”
Steve saw red and hadn’t even realized he had stepped forward until Eddie placed a strong hand on his arm and pulled him back. “Steve Harrington, you are going to let this one go or so help me God.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but Steve could still hear him loud and clear.
“But-”
“I know you are strong and you are angry, but I also know you have lost every fight you have ever been in. So you are going to get in the car and we are going to drive home.” Eddie’s eyes were stern and unyielding and Steve gazed into them, despite all the makeup. Fuck, he wanted to kiss him. “Is that understood?”
Steve sighed, moving back toward the car. “Fine.”
Ella giggled under her breath, almost as if she were trying to break the tension. “Damn bitch, you really do have yourself an attack dog there. At least he’s well trained.”
Ms. Sullivan turned, tapping a hand against Steve’s car. “Ella, not the time.”
“Thanks for all the help,” Eddie hummed under his breath, tugging his hair in front of his face. “Sorry about all the trouble.”
Ms. Sullivan softened, smiling as she moved to pull a cigarette out of her pocket. “Darling, you put on a show like that every time we have you, and you can cause as much trouble as you want. Just start bringing your own dresses.”
Not wanting to test fate, the duo quickly piled into the car, Eddie taking the bag of their clothes as Steve slid into the driver's seat. Ms. Sullivan caught her hand on the door just as Steve was about to pull it closed. “Oh, and, Steve was it?” Steve nodded and the woman leaned in, lowering her voice. “You seem like a sweet kid, but if you hurt our little rockstar I will break you.”
Steve swallowed hard. He had received shovel talks in the past, but usually he was prepared for it, and he would be a lying man if he said Ms. Sullivan wasn’t intimidating. “Understood, ma’am.”
She smiled, slapping the top of his car. “You two have a nice night now. Get home safe!”
Eddie waved as Steve closed the door and turned the car on, his eyes flickering between the street and the people who helped them escape as he slowly pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.
The car fell silent, Eddie shuffling through Steve’s stacks of cassette tapes and silently judging his taste in music before settling for silence. Steve kept having to force himself to keep his eyes on the road, wanting nothing more than to turn and stare at Eddie.
“Well,” Eddie finally breathed out after it felt like the quiet was about to chew and swallow them whole. “I’ll admit it, that was the weirdest end to a concert I’ve ever experienced.”
Steve hummed a tone of agreement. “You mean all your metal shows don’t end with a drag show? That's unfortunate, I was trying to figure out what lipstick I should bring next time.”
“Oh, well don’t let that stop you.” Eddie’s voice was breathy and quiet, as if they were still trying to sneak through the parking lot. “I wanna know if Mr. Harrington is a winter or an autumn.”
“Please, Mr. Harrington is my father. You can call me… Stevie… Harrington? I meant that like Stevie Nicks, but I’m realizing that is just basically my name.” Steve fumbled the punchline but Eddie laughed anyway, his head falling back to hit the headrest behind him.
“Well it's a pleasure to meet you Stevie, you can call me…” Eddie paused a moment to think, tapping a finger against his lip in thought. “Call me Eden Munson.”
“Hm,” Steve hummed out. “I would have thought Edith for some reason.”
“Edith!?” Eddie almost shrieked out. “Stevie, you would think me an Edith? I can’t believe you.”
“What’s wrong with Edith?” Steve couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling to his lips.
“What’s right with Edith is more like it.” Eddie huffed out, unable to hide the smile on his lips. “God I can’t even look at you right now. For the record, I would have thought you a Stephanie.”
“This means nothing to me.” Steve shook his head. “Literally, how is that an insult?”
“If you were really a Stevie you’d know,” Eddie overexaggerated, rolling his eyes, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Steve felt delirious, and as his head fell back as loud, echoing laughter ripped itself from his throat, he didn’t particularly care that he looked fucking insane.
The things Eddie did to him, he could never begin to explain it.
Before he could really even realize it, Steve was pulling into his own driveway, making the executive decision to pull all the way into the garage, if only to dissuade the prying eyes of his neighbors.
“Stevie, you hounddog.” Eddie faked a gasp, slapping Steve on the shoulder. “I didn’t realize you were that desperate to get me back to your place.”
Steve fumbled. “I-- no, I thought you might wanna get cleaned up before heading home.” Steve scratched the back of his head, picking at the place where the wig met his neck. “I mean, it’s late so you know, if you’d like to stay the night you can. I wouldn’t mind it. But if you wanna go straight home that’s also okay I--”
“Steve,” Eddie finally dropped the joke, “you’re good. Thank you, for everything.” Steve turned to face Eddie, and once again his breath caught in his throat and he was spiraling, because if Steve thought he was pretty then Eddie was beautiful. Illuminated by nothing more than the overhead light that hung in the garage, sharp shadows cut across the metalhead’s face which was framed perfectly by the straight black wig. A hint of teeth could be seen between cherry red lips, and Steve had to fight off the temptation to chase after them, because suddenly he was thinking about when they were in the bar again and Eddie was pressed close to his chest and he was convinced they had been seconds away from kissing, and maybe they had been. Maybe, if Gareth hadn’t called at that exact moment they would have kissed and Steve and Eddie would have had to deal with the aftermath of whatever that meant for them and their friendship.
And maybe they would still have to, because hidden away in the dark of Steve’s car, he felt himself leaning over the center console, drawn in by everything Eddie was. Eddie’s hand traced across his shoulder to tug a single lock of blonde wig behind his ear, only to settle on Steve’s cheek, his thumb brushing across the corner of Steve’s blind eye, and for the second time tonight, Steve was confident he was about to kiss Eddie Munson.
Unlike the first time, he didn’t want to worry about what came after. He didn't want to think about what this was gonna mean for them or if this would throw them off balance forever, because Steve Harrington deserved good things and Eddie Munson was one of the best things to ever happen to him.
And then Steve fucked up, because his hand slips from the steering wheel and hit the horn, and both of them were jumping apart like the other was made of hot coals.
“Shit.” Steve hissed out, and Eddie choked out a nervous laugh next to him. “Sorry.”
“You’re good.” He was giggling as he patted Steve’s shoulder, finally unbuckling his seatbelt. “Let's get inside. I can’t wait to get out of these shoes.”
Steve wanted to punch himself in the face for fucking up that badly, but instead, he slid out of the diver’s side of the car, following Eddie into the house like a kicked puppy.
It hadn't occurred to Steve that Eddie knew his house so well. He traveled the halls of the Harrington household as if he belonged there, strutting, not walking but strutting, through the maze of doorways and stairs as if it wasn’t a house that was near impossible to navigate. But Eddie navigated it like he had lived there his entire life, landing them at Steve’s bathroom without hesitation.
“Oh, you don’t have makeup remover or anything, do you?” Eddie asked, pulling off the wig and wig cap in one fluid motion, letting his curly hair unfurl. For the millionth time that night, Steve’s mouth was dry.
“I-- uh, I don’t, but I think my mom might, one second.” Steve quickly excused himself, turning and exiting the bathroom before Eddie could stop him. It only took him five minutes to run to his parent’s room, rifle around the bathroom, find a plastic box labeled ‘makeup wipes’, and run back, but by the time Steve was in the doorway again, he almost dropped the box.
Eddie had his hair tied back into a high ponytail, his bangs held out of his face with the bandana that usually hung out of his back pocket. The green belt of the jumpsuit was left abandoned on the bathroom floor and the front was unbuttoned, revealing a hint of skin that trailed across Eddie’s chest, and if Steve really wanted to risk it all and ogle the other boy, he could see the faintest edge of what might be a tattoo Steve hadn’t seen before.
“Oh, good, you found them.” Eddie smiled, plucking the box from Steve’s hands as if he wasn’t making Steve choke on air with how good he looked. Without halting or hesitation, Eddie pulled a wipe from the box and began to clean his face of makeup, unfortunately smearing the cherry red stain away from his lips.
“You know what you’re doing over there,” Steve said, trying to will away the shake in his voice as he tugged off the wig and wig cap, combing a hand through his flattened hair. “You find yourself getting out of drag often?”
“Not exactly,” Eddie hummed, rubbing the wipe over his eye and ruining the makeup that had settled there. “But I do tend to get fancied up for shows and such. You’ve seen me with eyeliner on, Stevie.”
Steve nodded dumbly as he pulled his own wipe from the box, pressing his blind eye closed to run the makeup remover over his skin. The bathroom fell quiet as the boys went to their work, silently washing the glitter and paint away.
Steve, finally satisfied with his left eye, moved to clean the right and instantly ran into a problem.
His right eye had been open when he was cleaning off the left, but now that had to close his right eye to clean it, he couldn’t exactly see what he was doing.
With a sigh, Steve decided he would just have to suck it up and do something he had never done before. “Hey Eds, can I get some help over here?”
The metalhead turned, his face mostly clean of makeup. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”
Steve steeled himself, staring back at his reflection like he was in his own way. “I… I can’t see.”
Eddie paused, almost confused for a second before working it out in his own head. “Ah. Yeah, no problem. Here, sit on the counter so I can see your face better,” Eddie mumbled, taking the makeup wipe from Steve as he patted the tile counter. Wordlessly, Steve pushed himself up onto the bathroom counter, holding his breath as Eddie slotted himself between his knees and cradled his face, tilting it to the left so he could get a better look at his eye.
“Wow, you have, like, really nice skin,” Eddie mumbled, probably just thinking aloud as he pressed the wipe to Steve’s eye, but that did not stop Steve’s face from heating up at the compliment.
“Oh-- I-- you know I just moisturize and stuff.” Steve felt himself shrug as he rambled. “Nance made me start taking care of my skin after my first big fight and I just kinda… never stopped.”
Eddie chuckled, and Steve swore he could feel the rumble of his chest. “Where would you be without her.”
“Probably dead,” Steve answered honestly. “She’s the one who knows how to shoot a gun, not me.”
“God, and isn’t that wild?” Eddie breathed out, and Steve could feel his breath ghost across his face. “Nancy Wheeler with a gun, you with your bat… when do me and Rob get badass weapons?”
Steve chuckled, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as Eddie’s hand slid from his cheek to the back of his head and neck. “I don’t know, you were pretty badass with that guitar.”
Eddie laughed a little louder than he should have. “Who knew I’d live to see the day that Steve Harrington was calling me badass?”
Steve furrowed his brow, peeling his eyes open. “Why’s that hard to believe? You are.” His hand caught Eddie’s wrist holding the wipe.
Eddie stuttered, almost as if he realized Steve had caught him. “Oh, no, it’s just… guys like you don’t really hang out with… you know, guys like me.”
“Eddie, I just dressed in drag for you,” Steve said bluntly, giving his wrist a small squeeze. “You’re gonna have to do a hell of a lot to get rid of me at this point.”
Eddie was avoiding his eyes, instead opting to glance around the bathroom. “Yeah yeah, I know… but still. I just-- it’s wild to think sometimes that Steve Harrington--”
“Stop saying my name like it makes me better than you,” Steve cut him off, squeezing his wrist even tighter, almost like he was his lifeline. “Up until eight months ago, my best friends were children. I passed high school with straight Cs.”
Eddie finally looked at him. “Steve.”
But Steve persisted, his hands falling to Eddie’s waist and pulling him closer. “I’ve lost every fight I’ve ever been in. My current life plan is to just work at a Family Video store until they get sick of my ass.”
Eddie was shaking under his fingertips, his own hands handing on Steve’s shoulders. “Steve, you don’t have to--”
“I’ve had eight concussions, you know that? Eight. I-- my parents last visited me 11 months ago. I have panic attacks when the lights flicker. I’m not better than you, Eddie Munson.” He squeezed Eddie’s hips, almost as if to punctuate a point.
Eddie was silent, his eyes flickering across his face, looking for if Steve was lying to him, but he could have searched for eternity and found nothing. Steve was being genuine.
“Um.” Eddie swallowed hard, a strained, lopsided smile on his lips. “You still have lipstick on, do you want me to get that for you?”
Steve tugged Eddie closer and without thinking, kissed him like he was the first breath of fresh air after breaching the surface of the water. He tasted like mint gum and cigarette smoke, and Steve hated mint but he could learn to love this taste because Eddie was addicting to kiss.
Eddie gasped against him, and just as Steve was about to second-guess himself and pull away, Eddie was clawing at his hair and clothes, pulling him to the edge of the counter so that they were pressed flush against each other. Steve was spiraling again, but it was good this time because Eddie had him pinned against the bathroom counter and his tongue was slipping past Steve’s teeth and Eddie’s hands were pulling on his hair and it was absolutely divine and Steve never wanted it to stop.
Teeth clash against teeth as Eddie’s hands slid up Steve’s thighs and slip under the fabric of his dress, and maybe it was the fact he realized he was still wearing a dress or the fact he couldn't believe he was finally getting to kiss Eddie Munson, but suddenly Steve was laughing too hard to kiss anymore.
“What?” Eddie laughed as he pulled away and Steve could see his own lipstick smeared against Eddie’s lips. Something snapped deep in his stomach and once again he was reaching forward, tugging Eddie back in, and pressing messy kisses to every inch of Eddie that he could find because he wanted to stain the other boy’s skin bright pink with lipstick marks.
“I was-- you’re just so pretty,” Steve managed to mumble between sloppy kisses, trailing his lips across Eddie’s chin and down his neck to his jaw, and he could feel the way Eddie’s breath hitched against his mouth. Steve couldn't help himself from smiling against the expanse of Eddie’s neck, pulling back to admire his work. “Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are?”
“Hmm, nope.” Eddie giggled, his fingertips pressing harder against the skin of Steve’s thighs, his nails digging into his flesh. “I kinda get the feeling I’m about to start hearing it a lot though.”
Eddie’s hands began sliding, pushing Steve’s dress up as he leaned back in, and in a moment of panic, Steve stopped him. “Wait.”
Eddie leaned back upon request, his hands freezing. “Sorry, too much?”
“No, you’re good.” Steve breathed out with a nervous laugh, clinging to Eddie as if his life depended on it. “I just-- we can’t have sex tonight.”
Eddie choked on his words, a befuddled grin screwing onto his lips. “Yeah, that’s fine with me, but may I ask why, princess?”
Steve tried to move past the shaky sigh to escaped him as the new nickname hit his ears. “If we have sex then this could hypothetically become like, a one-night stand and I truly think it would be bad for my health if I let you break my heart like that,” Steve rushed it all out in one go, but even after that, he kept rambling. “Be-because I like you a lot, and if you don’t feel the same way that's fine, just please tell me right now, because I can handle being your friend, and I’d love to be your boyfriend, but anything in between might just kill me.”
Eddie just smiled, leaning in to place a soft kiss against Steve’s lips. “Well let's not rush into things, but between you and me, I’d love to be more than friends.”
A weird whine escaped the back of Steve’s throat, and suddenly he was diving back in, lips against lips, teeth against teeth, tongues against tongues. It was messy and if he was being honest, the dress was still digging into his ribs in a way that made him wanna burn the gown entirely, but as Eddie held him close, cradling a hand against his jaw in a way that made him feel oh so fragile, Steve decided he could deal with it.
For now.
For Eddie.