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Sitting in his room with Robin—he's on his bed and Robin is sitting on the floor against it—a bottle of vodka between them.
Steve's tipsy, not drunk, not out of it, not unreasonable, but just a little more honest with himself than he is when he's sober.
And he's glad this isn't the scary part. That he isn't worried about what he's going to say out loud, that he can admit it to her and himself, and she was not going to leave.
Steve lays on the floor because these kinds of conversations are better from the floor. Robin follows him to the floor, she was already half-way there, lying beside him.
He decides he loves her with every platonic (with a capital P) fiber of his body. He decides this every day.
"Robin?" He's been trying to figure out how to start this conversation since she'd come over. Even if all he said was, 'Hey, I'm definitely attracted to boys'
"Steve?" And there's a hint of confusion when she says it.
Even tripping balls on LSD, he's not sure how she told him. How she trusted him. He knew how she was going to react, and the confession was still sitting like a stone in his throat.
He swallows, closes his eyes, uncomfortable behind the dark of his eyelids. "I like both?"
"Both of what?" Robin asks, "—Oh. OH, both. I mean cool, it's just like, I was not expecting that at —what time is it?— How did you figure it out?"
"I just, it's like pizza—right—you can want two toppings on one slice, and that can be good? So, I just figured it was the same for people. If you can like girls or guys, you can like both." He says and doesn't say that he's thought about it a lot, over a longer period of time than she'd guess.
"That's how you figured it out? You looked at a slice of pizza, and thought," Robin deepens her voice, "If you can put pepperoni and sausage on a pizza, I can like girls and boys. Boobies and Pecs."
"Yeah, that's how… And" Steve sighs, closes his eyes harder, and spits out "I think boys have always been kind of pretty," Doesn't say that he's done more than think it, won't tell her that.
"That makes so much sense." Robin says, like she's discovered the keys to life.
Steve laughs, "What do you mean it makes sense?"
"It just does, I don't know why I didn't see it sooner," Robin gasps, "Oh my god, is that why Top Gun is always on?"
Steve hums, "No, it's just a good movie."
"It is not that good a movie," Robin says.
Steve scoffs, "I do not think Tom Cruise is hot,"
"Ha! I didn't say anything about Tom Cruise. You did." She says like a "got Ya", Steve exposed by his own words, "You like Tom Cruise's pecs."
"Do not." Steve replies, and if he's really whining about it, that's between him, Robin, and the bottle of vodka.
"Steve likes Pecs,"
"Rob, do not make that a thing,"
" Tom Cruise's Pecs,"
"You suck," Steve says, and drags suck out, so Robin knows exactly how much she sucks right now, " You suck so much"
Robin cackles, "Not as much as you want to suck—"
"—Oh My God, Rob, Stop talking!" Steve says. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Now, if you want to talk about a movie that should always be on, Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing"
"Dirty Dancing? I could work with that actually" Robin says
"Jennifer Grey?"
"Jennifer Grey."
Dirty Dancing is playing on the TV. They're about two hours into an eight-hour shift, hanging behind the counter with nothing to do. Yesterday was their slow day, and essentially everything is already done until more customers come in to rent or return some movies.
" —No. Robin, it's not like that."
Steve wouldn't say that he has a crush on Eddie because he didn't.
"Except it totally is, Steve."
Robin would say that Steve has a crush on Eddie because he does.
"Stop staring at me like that Rob"
And she has been staring, intently.
"You've been watching the door…Who are you waiting for?" Robin asks, like she knows the answer. She doesn't by the way, he's not waiting for anyone.
"No one," Steve replies.
"Didn't know Eddie changed his name to no one,"
It wasn't a crush. It was more like warm admiration, appreciation toward Eddie for being an A+ Babysitter, and another driver, and being really, really pretty. Not pretty, but like easy to look at.
Okay.
Maybe it was a crush. But a tiny, itty bitty little one. He would get over it like that (finger snap). It would pass through his system, and he would move on.
But he's not dealing with it during his shift at Family Video.
"I'm not waiting for Eddie because he got a job at the record store and is working right now. So, you're wrong."
"Oh, you're missing him. Steve Harrington wistful family video employee."
"I am not wistful," Steve rebukes that, he's not anything about Eddie because it was barely a crush.
Robin tables the conversation, not of her own accord, the bell on the door rings and customers pour in. And they don't get to talk about it again because every time Robin tries to bring it up, Steve sticks his fingers in his ears and pretends that he's wearing a Walkman (Sorry Robin, I can't hear you over shout by tears for fears. Oh, wow the volume is so loud!).
When there's a lull in the amount of customers coming through, Steve takes his fingers out of his ears to hear Robin talk about her college prospects and Vickie, then She segways back to Eddie; he sticks his fingers back in his ears to listen to ABBA.
It's like that for the entire shift. Robin tricks Steve into letting his guard down with conversation about herself and her relationship, then tries to bring up Eddie, and Steve exits the conversation. Customers drift into family video, cruising rows of movies, and Steve helps them.
And it's easy like this.
Robin and Steve are sitting in Steve's parked car, and she's about to get out and into her home. She pulls the door handle and makes like she's going to get out of his car.
"You know…" She turns back to face Steve, "It's okay that it would like freak you out," Robin says.
Steve sighs, "It's a tiny little crush, it doesn't freak me out Rob," And maybe that's not exactly true, maybe it's the scariest thing he's ever done. And he's not just freaking out.
He's terrified.
Not scared of who he is, or if there's a god that hates him (and there undoubtedly is because of all the people to develop a crush on, not even considering the Demogorgon), not scared of any of that, or anything like that.
Steve's scared of what he is when he's at his worst. Who he's been. He's scared, and when he looks in the mirror, he doesn't look different. He's scared that he will open his mouth and his past will come crawling out of it; all the things he's said will catch up with him and he will end up as alone as he was when he wanted to be the king. And he's scared to talk about it. And he's way too sober to deal with all and any of it right now.
Steve's surprised he hasn't broken out in a sweat from the nerves.
Robin looks at him like she gets it. He wishes he would just open his mouth and tell her she didn't.
"If it helps Eddie totally likes pecs,"
And sure, Eddie might like pecs, but he won't like Steve because Steve Harrington hasn't always been a good person. Or even likable. And Eddie might find Steve enjoyable to be around now, he won't like him.
"Thank you, Robin" Steve says, and he is thankful to have her in his corner, but she's looking at him, really looking at him, trying to get inside his head and fight his demons, and he wants to tell her to stop.
It wasn't a crush.
It wasn't a crush when Steve told Robin that it wasn't even a crush at all at work.
It wasn't a crush when he told Robin that it was barely anything in the car.
It wasn't a crush when he came out, and didn't even mention Eddie, because he needed that for himself.
It wasn't a crush.
He was falling in love—already in love. Something of that variety.
Sick to his stomach with it.
It had been a crush months ago, when he wasn't ready to call it that, when Eddie was still recovering from being eaten up by bats, and all Steve could think about was how grateful he was that Eddie was alive because he told him not to be a hero and he meant it—more than he'd meant anything in his life—and Eddie had still decided to protect Dustin's life, their lives, with his own.
Now, he couldn't imagine his life without Eddie.
Hell, when he stopped showing up at the Family Video in the middle of their shift, it felt like watching a star wink out. Days went by slower; their work hours extend on into forever because Eddie has a job and works the same hours as them. So, he will not be coming in to talk about his latest DnD campaign, or his band, or a new tattoo and Steve will have to wait to see him until his shift is over.
And he's finally starting to understand why some people went on and on about the shackles of capitalism and what-have-you, because he's in love and his job fucking sucks without those brief interludes of Eddie like the sun coming out from behind dark clouds.
In the boring hours of his Family Video shifts, he thinks more about how much he's come to feel about Eddie. Wishes that Eddie would parade through the door, lean against the counter, and draw Steve into one of his stories, pull Steve into his orbit.
Shit, Steve's wistful.
He's never had an unattainable crush before. Not in the sense that he's never gotten turned down, but in the sense that Steve's a boy and Eddie's a boy, and suddenly he's too familiar with Robin's apprehension toward pursuing Vickie.
It makes sense; it makes him sick.
It's one thing to be rejected. It's another entirely to contemplate how quickly confession could make you a social reject. Alienate you from your friends. There was a lot to lose.
He thinks about Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids. And he thinks about how isolating it is, to worry that he'll lose them, unable to squash the fear because telling them means telling them and telling is the only way to find out if they're actually going to care.
Which is why he bites his tongue about Eddie, talks about it like government secrets. (Sorry, Rob, I signed a NDA about my feelings) Because for all that Robin can assure him that Eddie likes boys; Steve wasn't good with these things, and he couldn't tell for sure. And he'd rather have bits and pieces of Eddie, than try to have all of him, and end up without anything at all. At least that's what he's telling Robin.
Because if there was one thing about Steve Harrington, it was that he was good about not talking about his feelings. He had years and years of training. Between the—at most—five-minute phone calls from his mother about her house, and the radio silence from his father until he was home and suddenly Steve actually existed (to destroy his father's reputation), and the hours and hours of time he'd spent in his empty house. He knows it's easy to say nothing at all. Especially about Eddie.
Who Robin desperately wants to talk about because she brought a stack of movies with her and left a horror movie that Eddie mentioned enjoying on the top, so she could pluck it out of the pile when she got to Steve and mention that "Hey, isn't this that movie that Eddie liked,"
Steve nodded, because Eddie had talked about it for a while, trying to convince him to watch it, and Steve had absorbed every word of and none of it at all. What's the movie about, Steve has no idea. What did Eddie say it was about? His lips were very pretty while he was talking about it.
And it was brutal to want so desperately, and not be able to act on it. When they hung out, and smoked or drank, and Steve wanted to lean over and kiss him, feel the cold of Eddie's rings against his cheek.
He swallowed it all down because this was Eddie and he was Steve, and Eddie wouldn't even want him if he was interested in men.
"Earth to Steve!" Robin indoor-shouts, leaning over the counter.
"Robin,"
"Jesus, you should just tell him," (Oh, because that's so easy)
"I can't tell him,"
"Well, try telling him your bisexual then. See where that gets you."
"I'm bisexual?" Steve says, and so there's a word for it.
"You like both." Robin states.
"I didn't know there was a word for it,"
"But there is, and Eddie probably knows that word too. So, when you tell him he'll understand and you two can just kiss already" Robin says, and she's enjoying teasing him about his little crush, probably way more than she should.
"But how do you even know that Eddie likes pecs,"
"I just know it, like you were sure that Vickie likes boobies,"
"I am an amazing wingman," Steve gives Robin the smile that earned him most likely to succeed in his high school yearbook.
"You were most definitely not."
"Was too,"
"Eddie definitely has a crush on you,"
"Definitely is a strong word"
"Is this how you felt when you were trying to convince me that Vickie wanted to date me,"
"Like screaming at someone who's checking out that weird sound they heard in a horror movie, like talking to a TV"
"No, like that proverb, 'You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink', feels something like that."
"Yeah, it was like that,"
"Talking to you is kind of like talking to a TV,"
"Because my head is so full of things," Steve quips.
Robin smiles, "Yeah because you have a big head,"
"You love me and my big head,"
"I do, I love you with a capital P." She replies. And means it, because Steve should hear it a lot more often than he does.
And he smiles.
Robin grabs his face in her hands, suddenly serious, and he is reminded that his life is much better with this funky little drama nerd and her theatrics in it.
"You've got to drink the water, Steve."
"Do not horse proverb, metaphor me—"
"—Steve,"
The bell on the door rings, signaling the start of the afternoon rush.
He does not do anything he agreed upon in his head with Robin.
He doesn't drink the water (Bad Horse).
Because Eddie is Eddie and Steve is Steve. And Steve is comfortable around Eddie, and it's like the Earth and the Moon. And Steve's decided that the Earth doesn't need to know that the Moon loves it, and Eddie doesn't need to know that Steve loves him.
And maybe he's almost said something, like when he and Eddie were getting high, watching Teen Wolf, because Michael J. Fox is maybe kind of cute with fangs, and Steve says some variation of that out loud. "You know, I think the fangs kinda do it for me," and Eddie doesn't laugh, and maybe it's because Steve really hadn't been joking, so it wasn't funny. And there's silence, aside from the movie playing in the background, and Steve almost blurts out, "Hey, I'm bisexual", because it would fill the silence, and he's been dying to say it.
Instead, he said something like, "You'd look good with fangs," because he wanted to lighten the mood, and even then, that wasn't really a joke either because Eddie would look good with fangs, he would look good always though, and Eddie snorted, and he missed his chance.
And Steve wishes it was just easy or something, wishes he could send signals to Eddie's brain without confessing. If he could dip his toe into asking Eddie out, make a joke about his pretty face, or twirl Eddie's hair around his finger. Or if he could bat his eyelashes and swish his hips, and see if Eddie's watching when he leaves, but he doesn't do any of that because this is Hawkins, Indiana, and because he's desperate not to get his heart broken.
So, he keeps his mouth shut about all of it. Locks it up tight with all the other things never going to say.
Or maybe he keeps almost saying something.
He almost tells Eddie, when he'd convinced him to watch the breakfast club, and they'd broken off into a conversation that had nothing to do with the movie, and Steve watches Eddie talk, and 'I love you' almost tumbles out of his mouth, and he tears his eyes away from Eddies lips to watch the movie with intention. The intention to ignore his feelings.
He almost says something when he's picking the kids up from DnD night, and leaning against his car, and Eddie comes out—with his hair tied up, revealing the tattoo of bats flying up his neck, near his ear—to hand Steve something Will left behind. (God, he's pretty).
But those are almosts, and Steve doesn't live in the fantasy where he's already confessed, or where Eddie's going to be his.
Steve has had many bad ideas. He's swimming in them. He's high in Eddie Munson's trailer—lounged out on the couch—though, and his bad ideas are starting to seem like good ones.
Steve's picked up something from Family Video, he doesn't know what it's called. It's kind of funny, and they've talked through most of it, and laughed at the rest.
He picked this movie because it was short, Robin said it was awful, and he had something important to say.
Steve's going to tell Eddie. He's going to come out to Eddie, and that was as much water as he was going to drink (Good Horse).
He's going to tell Eddie something—right now, because they aren't talking about anything and there's nothing interesting happening on-screen, and they're blanketed by the dark comfort of the night.
And chews his lip, worrying it with his teeth, because if this went badly, it could go very badly.
Eddie turns and looks at him, doesn't say anything, he's maybe looking at Steve's mouth and Eddie has the prettiest brown eyes.
And Steve, his brain is full of bad ideas that are starting to seem like good ones.
He's never wanted to kiss someone more.
And he's not thinking, he's really not, his heart is moving, and his mind is not because this is a totally bad idea, and if he was thinking his stomach would lurch with the weight of it, how stupid it is, and he's so high, he's got to be, because he's going to kiss Eddie. It's going to happen because his heart is working and his brain is not, and he's full of bad ideas that are starting to seem like good ones.
He leans in, gives Eddie a moment to freak out, push him away. Whatever, he gets in his space, tries not to throw himself all over Eddie because this is still a very bad idea, and presses a kiss against his lips.
Something barely there, barely a kiss at all, and it feels like exploding. He wants to kiss Eddie over and over again.
He pulls back, and waits, for anger, disgust, anything at all.
Eddie sighs, shoulders sag with the weight of it, and he pushes Steve away.
Steve scrambles away, onto the side of the sofa he'd been on before he'd given into the worst idea he's ever had.
"Oh, I thought—" Steve says, and he doesn't know what he was thinking because he wasn't thinking, he was just doing. Acting on instinct and want. For that brief moment, he needed to kiss Eddie and he did, and he was so stupid because he didn't even ask if Eddie like boys, if he even wanted Steve to kiss him at all, "Are you not into…," Steve closes his mouth to stop anymore bad ideas from falling out, hums, because he want to ask if Eddie's not into him, and he doesn't want to know the answer, so he says, "guys"
Because that would be so much easier to deal with. If Eddie wasn't into guys, then Steve never had a chance because he was a boy, and not because he was Steve Harrington.
The universe is not easy to deal with.
"No, I'm into men, I'm not… I don't want to be…" Eddie trails off.
Steve's heart leaps to its death.
"Oh, you don't want to…" Steve presses his knuckle between his eyebrows, massaging at the furrow in his brow, sighs because he can barely talk. He's choking. "With me."
Of Course, Eddie wanted nothing to do with him. He'd pushed too far, hoped too much, and didn't think enough.
He tries to look at Eddie, act like his world isn't falling apart because it's not, he knew this was going to happen.
Eddie sighs, grabs the remote and turns everything off, bathing them in darkness. He stands up and off-handedly mentions to Steve that he can "sleep off the worst of it on the couch."
Steve nods pathetically, "Thanks" he says, and regrets saying anything at all because he can barely manage that considering that he's losing his voice to the iron-grip of trying not to cry.
And Eddie disappears into his room, Steve hears the door shut beside him.
He stays maybe an hour more at the trailer with its four walls closing in on him.
Still sheltered by the dark of the night, probably not sober enough to be sitting in the driver's seat, Steve climbs into his car. Desperate, maybe for the first time in his life, for his own home. The empty of it. Not really a home, but an excellent place to … work through what he was feeling, to think, process.
Steve didn't think that Eddie liked him and had been preparing himself for the inevitable. That he was going to be honest, bare his heart and soul to Eddie and he was going to get rejected. (It's all bullshit)
Eddie was going to look at the mass of him and he'd see everything Steve hoped wasn't still there, and he'd taste it on Steve's tongue. Chew it up and spit him out.
He was preparing himself. He knew this was coming, so he wasn't going to cry.
He wasn't
Going to cry
He wasn't.
He gripped the steering wheel tight, shoulders wracked with sobs.
Sobs that crawled through his lips, and filled the car, and He wasn't—
Shit, he wasn't going to
cry.
It was probably the raw of being slightly high. That's why his heart was sitting on the floor of his car, shattered. And he couldn't stop
Fucking
crying.
Eddie is avoiding him.
Actively trying not to be where Steve is, and Steve regrets ever thinking about Eddie at all because this would all be fine if Steve hadn't thought that maybe there was a chance for them.
But his life isn't devoid of Eddie, where he had been introduced to bits and pieces of Eddie Munson, there were still crumbs left. He sees Eddie around, mostly because they spend time with the same group of people and inevitably Steve would have seen Eddie again.
Steve misses Eddie though. Because all he does is see him sometimes.
He takes the kids to Eddie's trailer for DnD nights and doesn't make small talk, doesn't linger. If Eddie doesn't want to see him, he's not going to stay for longer than necessary because he has the decency and common sense to not make things awkward.
Steve spends more time actively missing Eddie when he takes Max and Eleven, and sometimes the whole group, but usually just some of them, to Eddie's shows because he stays to make sure they use the buddy system and don't talk to seedy strangers, and he's glad that the venues that Eddie's playing are getting more kid friendly.
But he doesn't talk to Eddie, Eddie doesn't come down to throw an arm around Steve, and promise Max and El their first beers, while Steve tries hard not to smile with his teeth. (If you want to die, Munson be my guest. I want nothing to do with this little scheme.)
It's the middle of the night and Steve's phone is ringing, and he wonders if it's his parents as he comes downstairs to answer it. Picks it up off the receiver, and is greeted by Dustin's accusative, "What did you do,"
"What did I do? What makes you think I did something?" Steve asks, because he has a headache and no clue what Dustin's talking about.
"You and Eddie, what did you do?"
Oh. And Steve's runs through all the way he can say he's fucked up without admitting to what he fucked up, "Nothing unforgivable," He sighs.
"Steve, come on man, whatever it was you've got to apologize,"
"Look it's not going to work like that this time, sorry kiddo"
"What did you even do,"
"Look, it's late, and I have an early shift,
" Steve —"
"Sorry, need sleep" Steve hangs up the phone.
The phone rings exactly 30 minutes later and Steve gets up from the couch where he was sitting and waiting.
"Yes, Dustin," Steve asks.
"I don't think you did anything to Eddie,"
"Why not?"
"Max said she saw you crying in your car,"
Steve sighs, watery. (Great.) "Yeah, it wasn't me,"
"It wasn't you—" Dustin says, "In your car?"
"How'd she even see me?"
"She couldn't sleep,"
"So, she was outside in the middle of the night,"
"Uh, no" Dustin lies.
These kids were going to drive Steve crazy.
Steve's headache knocks on his skull, "Okay, Goodnight Dustin"
He's not actually sleepy, hasn't been able to sleep peacefully since 1983. And usually, he would call Eddie because that had become a part of his routine, and he liked talking to Eddie. But he can't talk to him.
He would know, when he tried to call, out of habit, Eddie hadn't picked up, and maybe he hadn't been home or something, but Steve hadn't tried to call again.
He's going to call in sick tomorrow. It was the slow day, and it would be fair because if Vickie had rejected Robin, and a couple of weeks later she wanted to call in sick, he would understand.
*
"Hey Rob, not gonna make it to work today, you still want me to drop you off though"
"Yeah, sure. You still not doing so hot?"
"Nope, and I couldn't get any sleep last night, so I'm shot"
"Come stand around like a zombie while I keep you company, it's our slow day, so you won't even have to do anything"
"I'm not gonna be great company,"
"I don't want you to spend all day holed up in your house alone,"
"I think that's exactly what I'm gonna do today,"
"Mope on the clock, Steve, come on"
"No can do, sorry Rob."
"Okay," Robin says, "I love you, Steve Harrington"
He sighs, "Love you too, with a Capital P"
*
Steve looks like absolute shit when he picks up Robin, and she knows it's not all because Steve is hurting over things not working out with Eddie. There are bags in his eyes, and his hair isn't done, and he's still in his pajamas, Steve wears perfection like armor.
So, to see him so undone.
The drive is quiet, and she wonders if Steve's head hurts.
"Alright have a nice day at work" Steve says,
"Without my work wife, how could I ever?"
And Steve gives her a small smile, "See after your shift, dear"
*
Robin climbs into the passenger seat, "Eddie came in today"
"Oh, did he rent anything?"
"No, but he did say the kids were giving him a stinky attitude, I told him it was probably because you were sad"
Steve sighs, "Max or Dustin might've said something about me, I'll let everyone know I'm fine"
"Did you tell them something?"
"No, she saw me crying in my car,"
"I thought you bailed at like 2 in the morning"
"That's exactly what I'm saying, she's gonna catch her death like that" Steve says.
"Okay, mom," Robin laughs, "Why don't we go back to yours?"
"Rob, really I'm okay"
"Okay enough to go dancing?"
Nicholas buys him a drink at the bar and calls him the prettiest boy in Indiana. And he listens to Iron Maiden, and other bands that Steve thinks he's heard Eddie mention before, and bands he's sure no one's heard of at all.
Nicholas compliments Steve's cologne and asks him about his number so he can talk to him again, and liking Nicholas is easy.
He doesn't know a thing about King Steve, and he has got a smile that reminds Steve of the full moon, with one crooked tooth, but it's actually the cutest thing about him, because you only get to see it when he smiles, like really smiles.
His kisses taste like Cherry coke, and he smells like motor oil, hair spray, and wet dreams—that's just his cologne though.
Steve decides that he doesn't want to lose Eddie as a friend. That they had something worth fighting for even if it wasn't the romantic relationship Steve craved. He had Nicholas now, and it was time to move forward with his life.
He wanted Eddie to be a part of that.
Which is why he's outside of his trailer right now with a six-pack of beer and a b-movie, because they were going to solve this like men.
Over a couple of beers and with a belly full of laughter.
He knocks on the door and Eddie answers, and Steve thinks maybe he should have invited Robin. That would have made this less awkward.
"Hey, Munson"
Eddie observes him skeptically, and Steve's smile falters a bit. Maybe he shouldn't have come.
"Harrington."
"I come bearing gifts,"
"I see," Eddie can see this for what it is, Steve's cunning plan for forgiveness. He holds his hand out, and Steve places the movie into it. Eddie flips it over to read the summary.
"Alright Harrington, come on, " He moves out of the doorway, heading into the living room to put the movie on, "What kind of beer did you buy?"
It's movie night, barely dark yet. Steve's got a stellar line up, and Nicholas helped because he's really passionate about westerns and insisted they watch at least one.
They're sitting on the couch and it's just them, Eddie and Robin.
Nothing's on yet, because Steve insists that they at least wait for Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle before starting any of the movies because Nancy has so politely agreed to bring all the children, if Steve takes them back.
"Hey, Steve what about community first, and—"
"—My dad would kill me,"
"Oh, is he going to pay?"
"Probably not, unless I do like business or something, which I'm not doing"
"Then two years of community and two years of university is going to be cheaper, and it'll give you time to make up for your not amazing grades in high school,"
Steve hums thoughtfully, "Wait, table this conversation, I'm gonna pop some popcorn,"
*
"Steve," Eddie whisper-shouts.
Steve turns around to face him, hand on the microwave door, "What?" He whisper-shouts back.
"We need to talk"
"We do?" Steve says at a regular volume as he pulls open the microwave door. The kernels are still popping and a wave of popcorn-scented warm air wafts into his face.
"Yes—Privately" Eddie continues to whisper.
Steve furrows his brow, thinks about what they might have to talk about, and comes up with nothing. (Okay, confusing) Maybe it's about the Upside Down, and that's why he couldn't say it in front of Nick.
"Okay, we can talk upstairs"
"Without Nicholas" Eddie says, like Steve would bring him to a private chat.
"Yeah, you said you wanted to speak privately?"
He takes Eddie upstairs into his room.
Steve maybe would have cleaned up a bit more if he'd known that someone was going to be up here. Nick's left his stuff kind of all over the place, and Steve has not had the chance to make it all look like it belongs there, instead of it being brought into his room by someone else.
"You've got to uninvite Nick." Eddie says.
"What! Why?"
"I need some time with the adults who understand what the upside down was like,"
And Steve should have known it was going to be about the Upside Down.
"Why don't you just hang out with them on your own time?"
"Oh, come on, you know they like your house better. I just miss the way things were before you and Nick signed a binding contract to never be more than maybe six feet away from each other. God, where did you two even meet?"
(What?)
"Dude, what? What do you even— binding contract —you're so dramatic," then "We met at one of Robin's shindigs"
"Okay, don't tell me then" Eddie says, sarcastically.
And Steve is trying really hard not to like out Robin, but he also already knows Eddie's gay, er, likes men, but it still not his secret to tell. But it really was one of Robin's things, at her friend of a friend's bar in a cafe.
And he shouldn't have mentioned Robin at all, and he wouldn't have if Eddie were anyone else.
"No, like the kind of shindig for like friends of Dorthey" Steve says.
"Friends of Dorthey, do you mean a gay bar"
Steve nods, "Yeah, that's it" It wasn't really a bar per-say, more like a cafe with alcohol and a dance floor, very warm and inviting. And that's probably because it was held in a cafe and the hold set-up was probably very illegal.
"You met Nicholas at a gay bar, he's gay?"
Steve nods, because yes, they met at a gay bar, then "No…I mean, yes, but you know it like a big no-no to just like out people,"
"So, you're just like a supreme ally, how many platonic life pals can one man have"
(No. Because WHAT?)
Steve bites his bottom lip, "Nicholas is my boyfriend?" Tries not to say it like it was obvious because clearly it wasn't.
Eddie's face drops, and there's an emotion Steve can't place.
"Since when is he your boyfriend"
"Since forever, I thought you knew?"
"You thought I knew Nicholas was your boyfriend,"
"It wasn't obvious?" Steve says, because it was totally obvious.
"No! It wasn't obvious, Steve."
"Oh, I just though like you would have assumed since"
"Since what!?" He says, and Steve can hear the irritation in his voice.
"Since you didn't want me, I figured you would just guess that I was seeing someone else"
"I didn't even…" Eddie pauses, "Why would I just assume that you like men"
Steve scoffs, "You're not serious?"
"Deadly," Eddie says.
Steve says, "I'm not doing this, don't know what this is but I'm not doing it," and heads for the doorway.
"I don't know if you know this, but you never told me you liked men"
Steve stops right in his tracks, turns around, indignation on his face, "I literally came on to you, we kissed!"
"You are not the first straight man to ever come on to me,"
"Because you think that little of me?" Steve shouts, "You just assumed I was trying to use you?"
Eddie opens his mouth to say something, and Steve waits for him to speak, but he doesn't say anything.
"Glad you think so highly of me, I feel so loved right now," Steve heads back downstairs, and Robin and Nick watch him come down the stairs, and he wonders how much of that they heard.
It's not the worst argument this house has ever seen.
"Sorry, popcorn's probably cold." Steve says, hoping to air the awkward out of the room.