Chapter Text
Something happened last night, that much is clear.
A distinct smell of sweat, alcohol and weed assaults Steve’s nostrils. Half-empty solo cups stack against every flat surface around his room. The lamp on his side table has disappeared. Books are missing from his shelf. his tongue feels like sandpaper. And, in about two minutes, he will feel a wave of nausea that will send him bolting down the hallway and face-first into the toilet.
But perhaps most notable is the brunette lying next to him.
Bleary-eyed, Steve has awoken in only his underwear with his arm looped around someone's naked torso. She sleeps on her chest with her face looking away from Steve and her wavy hair covers most of her features. Despite the night being a hazy blur, Steve manages to piece the puzzle of this particular mystery. Pity he can’t remember the fun they had.
He shifts closer to the body for warmth. With his nose in the crook of the stranger's neck, he gets a whiff of pine and cigarette smoke. It’s oddly comforting. Maybe even a bit familiar. They might have slept together before.
Curiosity gets the best of him. He carefully leans over the stranger and gently brushes her hair under her ear to reveal—
“What the fuck?!” Steve jumps back and — THUMP! — tumbles out of bed, taking the blanket with him as he falls to the floor. The pain that spikes up his spine is irrelevant. He’s too distracted by Eddie Munson, half-naked in his bed.
And there’s the wave of nausea. He barges into the washroom down the hall and the awfully loud sounds of his retching are contained in the toilet bowl. He expects to mope in silence thereafter with his head hiding between his knees in shame, but the shower pipes are making weird noises. It's not a gurgle or a glug or a hum as expected with drains. It almost sounds like snoring.
Steve swiftly pulls the shower curtains to find Robin Buckley curled up in the tub. There’s something different about her. No, it’s not the drool that hangs from her chin or the red lip stain on her cheek. It’s her shaggy bangs that rest too high above her eyebrows. Have they always been that short?
“Why? Is it too short? Does it look bad?”
“....No.”
“Goddamnit! You hesitated! I knew I shouldn’t have cut my bangs on my own,” Robin pouts as she looks through the rearview mirror of Steve’s car. Reflected behind her are Hawkin’s High students leaving the building after the dismissal bell. For many, it’s the last bell they have as high school students.
For Steve, it’s a normal afternoon. He has yet to find himself sitting beside a toilet with a churning stomach. His house is yet to be a wreck. He’s fully clothed. There’s yet a body to keep his bed warm. That all comes later.
He carries a box of everything that once occupied Robin’s locker and shoves it into his trunk. He then heads to the driver's seat where Robin slouches beside him.
“Did you end up asking Vickie out?” Steve asks. He had given her a pep talk before dropping her off at school this morning. It was the most passionate one yet, he swears it almost brought Robin to tears. Though, he’s not surprised by her answer:
“I wimped out at the last second. Thank God I did. I probably would’ve looked ridiculous with my hair like this.”
“Maybe you should grow it out, I think it would suit you," suggests Steve.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask,” sneers Robin. “Also, if your track record is any indication, I thought you preferred girls with short hair.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I’ve never had a preference.”
He says this just before he gets distracted by a certain long-haired metalhead reflected in the side mirror. To be fair, Munson is hard to miss. He wears his Hellfire shirt with the devil smirking menacingly at those who stare. The warm weather has him take off his red flannel and tie it around his waist. It’s not quite clear if the holes in his jeans is a stylistic choice or if he just hasn't taken great care of them. Perhaps most striking is his wavy brown hair that gets pushed back by the perfectly timed wind.
As Eddie heads for his van and sticks out his tongue at the football team who pass him, Steve’s plagued with the realization that they fought for the world together and that’s where their relationship ended. Are they even friends? ‘Acquaintances that share trauma and bump into each other infrequently’ might be a better title. Steve doesn’t dislike the guy. It’s just, outside of the Upside Down, they live in two separate worlds and both dare not to visit the other. So, as Steve spots Eddie now, he decides he’s justified in staring at him because when else will their paths collide?
“You’re ogling.”
Steve blinks out of his daze. “Huh?”
“You’re ogling at her,” Robin repeats, looking through the side mirror. She tugs her hoodie over her head. “Quick. Think of something charming to say. She’s coming towards us.”
Who’s ‘she’? Steve gets his answer once Nancy knocks her knuckles against his window.
“Sorry, I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” Nancy apologizes once the window rolls down. “I just wanted to ask if Robin was going to Kacey Levy’s party tonight. I think it’ll be fun. The last hurrah for the graduating students of 86.”
Robin’s nose scrunches like she just smelled smoke. “Rather not. Kacey was always kind of a dick to me.”
“Really? But weren’t you both on the soccer team?” Says Nancy.
“Yeah, and she told everyone in the locker room that I coke up before games,” says Robin. “I don’t, by the way. Just to be clear.”
Nancy sighs. “Looks like I’m freeing up my schedule for tonight.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” says Robin.
“No, I prefer it,” says Nancy in the middle of a yawn. “I’ll finally have some time to rest. Exams really did a number on me.”
“You’re telling me. When I’m getting home I’m going straight to bed,” Robin sighs longingly.
Steve can’t help but make a face at the sleep deprived ladies. “Seriously? That’s how you’re gonna celebrate your final day as high school students? Sleeping?”
Robin and Nancy nod without shame.
“Aw c’mon. Don’t be lame,” Steve nudges. “How about just a small get-together at Lovers Lake with Nancy’s friends and your band nerds? Could be fun.”
Robin looks disturbed. “Lovers Lake gives me the heebie-jeebies,” she murmurs.
“Fair enough. How about Skull Rock?” Says Steve.
“Same thing. It’s a giant skull. How does that not weird people out?” Says Robin.
“Starship Isle? The bowling alley on Maple Street?” Says Steve.
“The last time I went there I got food poisoning,” Nancy mentions.
Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine, what about my place?”
The ladies share a look with one another, intrigued by Steve’s offer.
“Ehhh, I don’t know,” says Robin. “A majority of my friends either hate you or have a crush on you.”
“That’s no problem, I’ll be out of sight,” says Steve. “I’ll just pick up some food and drinks before they arrive, then I’ll stay upstairs so you guys can hang out.”
“...That’s actually really cool of you, Steve,” Nancy admits. “You’d do that for us? I don’t want to intrude or anything like that.”
“It’s no big deal. Think of it as my graduation gift,” says Steve. “Just keep it small and stay on the first floor. The neighbours hate me enough from all the parties I threw in the past. I’m surprised they haven’t called the cops yet.”
It feels a bit ridiculous to even mention this to two of the most responsible people Steve knows. If he trusts them enough with his life then he can definitely trust them with crowd control.
So, as the sky turns orange, Nancy and Robin arrive at Steve’s house to set up for their graduation party. Steve leaves the decorating to them and drives off to the grocery, then the liquor store, then the pizzeria next door. He struggles to make it back to his parked car whilst balancing a large box of pizza and plastic bags in hand.
Steve halts when the persistent ringing of a bike bell warns him of its arrival. He squints, searching for the source, and instantly regrets wasting his time. In the distance a familiar group of three gremlins approach. Like a shark to its prey, they circle Steve and eye the pack of beer hungrily and he’s stuck in the middle with no space to escape.
“Good evening, Steve,” Dustin greets rather ominously. “Are you drinking alone again?”
Steve’s brows pull together. “Excuse me?”
“We’re just worried about you. You’ve been single for a while and we can tell it’s taking a toll,” says Lucas.
“Yeah, so maybe you should hand over the beer and we’ll take care of it,” Mike suggests.
“And the pizza too,” Dustin adds. “I heard it isn’t a good idea to drink on an empty stomach.”
“And I heard it isn’t good to ride your bike with one wheel,” says Steve.
“What?” says Dustin.
Steve kicks Dustin’s front wheel, causing him to yelp and wobble off balance. The shark circle breaks, leaving Steve room to walk through and continue towards his car.
“Just dig through your parent's liquor cabinet,” Steve yells over his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure Mrs. Wheeler hides a stash of wine in her garage.”
“We’re not taking that away from her, it’s all the happiness she has left!” Dustin yells back.
Mike makes a face at Dustin which he ignores. He crawls out from under his bike. “I thought you were cool, man! Can you at least buy us our own pack!? STEVE? STEVE, PLEASE!”
“Give it up, we have other options,” Lucas murmurs.
“Yeah, let’s just find Eddie. He’s pretty chill. I wouldn’t be surprised if he brews his own beer,” Mike suggests.
Steve doesn't know why he feels offended as the kids bike in the opposite direction. That was nine minutes less of pestering than he’s used to. Whatever. They’re Eddie’s problem now.
With the sun disappearing under the horizon, Steve’s headlights pave the way through the pitch-black streets of Hawkins. There’s nothing comforting about being alone in the dark, especially without a team strapped with Molotovs and guns by his side. But now, as he drives up to his house, he finds that there’s nothing comforting about the lights shining through every single window. From blocks away he recognizes Blondie singing loudly through his living room stereo. Then he finds he can’t park in his own driveway as it’s being occupied by vehicles he doesn’t recognize.
It takes a five-minute brisk walk to get to his front door and he barges in to find what is absolutely not a small get-together.
It seems the graduating seniors of Hawkin’s High have a shared goal of making Steve’s house the loudest, most obnoxious, and uncomfortably humid house in the neighbourhood. Every clique gladly participates: the jocks, the cheerleaders, the nerds, the stoners, the weirdos, the band kids, the theatre kids, the overachievers, the goths, the emos, and even the loners. His friends are nowhere in sight.
A clumsy, raven-haired partygoer bumps into him with a drink in hand. It spills onto his sweater, leaving a dark stain that will surely be impossible to wash. She gasps and hurriedly wipes Steve’s chest with her own sleeve. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I—“
“It’s fine,” he interrupts. “I just— how did you find this place?”
“Huh?”
“Do you know Robin Buckley or Nancy Wheeler?”
The way her brows scrunch together tells him no.
He heads deeper into the house and his urgent search for his friends begins. This is his first objective. His second objective is to open a few windows to air out the musty scent of alcohol and sweat that fills the air.
Steve’s blood pressure rises with every broken vase and disregarded solo cup he sees. He pushes through the tight hallway, passing a couple that shamelessly makes out and a rambunctious group that chants for their friend to ‘CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!’ Others indulge in stronger vices with their eyes lost in an entirely separate world of different colours and sounds and shapes and rules. What Steve once thought was fun leaves him with a headache now, or perhaps he’s just too sober.
He ends up in his backyard and a wave of chlorine water soaks his clothes as the school's football quarterback does a cannonball. It interrupts a game of chicken fight and the girls who sit on top of their partner’s shoulders tumble into the water. Others loiter around with smoke dispersing out their nose. One quick sniff and Steve realizes that opening a window won’t do any good for his house interior. From the many parties he has hosted and attended, he knows there’s a supplier on the loose. He spots him right away.
Eddie Munson lounges on one of the patio chairs with his lunch box of drugs on the table next to him. A long line of impatient customers wait with wallets opened. He sells a baggie of mysterious tablets to this year's valedictorian. As he hands it over Steve cuts in line and snatches it away.
“Woah, someone’s antsy,” chuckles Eddie, looking Steve up and down. “There's plenty to go around, Harrington. I’ll even give you a discount.”
“I don’t want your discount.” Steve drops the baggie and it crunches underneath his shoes.
“Hey!” The valedictorian yells. She huffs in frustration before stomping off without paying.
Eddie throws his hands up. “Nice going, man. She was one of my regulars too.”
“I don’t want you selling here, you’re bringing too many eyes on to this house,” says Steve.
“Bit too late for that. I go where business is and it looks like business is booming here,” says Eddie. “Isn’t a crowded party what you wanted anyway? The bigger the party, the higher your social ranking is?”
“I’m out of high school. I don’t give a shit about ranking.”
“Whatever. I’ve earned two hundred bucks in the last thirty minutes so, respectfully, I think I’m just gonna keep selling. Next in line, please!”
Steve swiftly grabs Eddie’s lunch box of drugs. Eddie’s face drops. He shoots up from his seat. They stare each other down and attract an audience who are eager for a showdown.
“Hand it back, Harrington,” Eddie warns.
“Or else what?” Steve challenges. “Gonna pin me against the wall again?”
“I bet you’d like that.”
“I— What?”
Eddie takes a step closer and they’re nearly chest-to-chest. His hot breath hits Steve's cheek. It burns.
“You want me up against you, Harrington?” Eddie’s fingers feather along Steve’s bicep. “All close and personal? I don’t offer those types of services but I’ll happily change that for my stuff back.”
“I—“ Steve gulps. He was fully ready to be threatened, not seduced. It’s some sort of embarrassment tactic; Eddie thrives on a reaction but Steve is entirely too stubborn to give him one. Now, if Eddie were a girl he might just consider the bargain. How could anyone resist those wide eyes really?
“Are you guys gonna fight or fuck!?” A guy in the crowd exclaims. An eruption of laughter surrounds them.
Steve snaps out of the trance that he didn’t know he was in. He impulsively shoves Eddie away and he falls back on to the patio chair.
The crowd Oooooohs. Then, in another impulsive decision by Steve, he pushes through the goading audience and towards the pool where he submerges the lunch box underwater. Eddie’s eyes go wide with panic. He pushes through the crowd, pleading desperately for Steve to ‘stop, stop! that’s all I have!’
And as he manages to pull Steve out of the way and snatch the lunch box back in his possession, he opens it and sees that water has seeped in. The contents are completely soaked, even the baggies collected some water.
Okay, maybe Steve could have handled that better. He realises this when he notices that Eddie looks about ready to erupt. He’s red in the face, vibrating with anger building and building as steam comes out of his ears. It doesn’t help that the crowd is manic with laughter at Eddie’s expense.
“Look, man, I just don’t want the smell of weed stuck on my mom’s furniture—”
Steve’s explanation is cut short by Eddie screaming, “AHHHHHHHHH!!!!” and he rams into Steve like a raging bull. They end up on the ground where they roll around, throwing playground-level insults at each other like, “eat farts, stupid!”
They go at it for a while. The whistles and cheers from the audience slowly dissipate when they see nothing is really happening. By the time everyone gets distracted by something more entertaining, Eddie manages to get Steve in a headlock. Steve has never experienced a more intense nuggie; It feels like his scalp is burning. His once perfectly coiffed hair is now a bird's nest, which, arguably, is worse than the choking.
Before Steve turns blue, a pair of hands poke out of the pool shed and grabs the rowdy boys by their collars. They get pulled inside and the door slams behind them.
Robin pulls a string hanging from the ceiling and CLICK! A singular light bulb turns on, showing just how many cobwebs surround them.
“Have you been here the whole time?!” Yells Steve at the same time Eddie asks, “Did your bangs get shorter?”
“Shut up about my bangs!” Is her heated response. She turns to Steve. “And yes I have! It’s the only place that isn’t swarmed with a bunch of assholes who don’t use soap, but I guess that’s changed now that you're both here. What the hell were you two even doing just now?”
“Steve drowned my entire business like a freaking mob boss!” Eddie passionately accuses, lifting the evidence in his hand.
Steve scoffs, “what you’re doing is not a business. It’s a problem.”
“It can be both,” Robin half-heartedly defends.
”Exactly!” Eddie exclaims.
“Okay, fine, whatever!” Steve waves them off. “But all I asked was that you take your ‘business’ somewhere else. It’s not that hard.”
“You don’t understand, man. This is the hottest party in town right now. I got people to pay and they’re gonna come for my ass if I don’t get the cash to them on time.” Eddie huffs as his shoulders deflate in defeat. “Shit. I’m probably gonna have to sell a few of my records now.”
Steve shakes his head at the idea. “What? You don’t have to do that.”
“I kind of do,” murmurs Eddie.
“No, I’ll just pay for what you lost,” Steve says without much thought. It’s those pair of worried doe eyes of Eddie’s. They’re a tad too effective on Steve.
It seems Eddie doesn’t even realize his own effect as he raises a brow at the offer. “Yeah, right. I’m pretty sure it’s in the thousands.”
Steve shrugs. “That’s fine, I’m good for it.” More like his parents are good for it but no one needs to know that.
Eddie shakes his head. “I— I can’t just take money from you.”
“Why not? I’m pretty much just buying your supply.”
“It’s a shitty supply. You’re not gonna be able to use any of it.”
“I never wanted to anyway.”
“I don’t know, Steve. It's a lot of money.”
“Just think of it as your graduation gift. I’m giving them out like they’re hotcakes this year.”’
Eddie darts his eyes to the ground unsure of what to say. Is Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson being bashful? It’s so odd to see— or maybe odd is not the right word. Bizzare? Surreal? Endearing?
Cute, Steve’s brain supplies for him. He shakes his head and shoos the thought away as quickly as he can.
He redirects his attention to Robin. “Speaking of gifts, what the hell happened? I wasn't even gone for that long and suddenly the whole graduating class of ‘86 is here.”
“You think I wanted this to happen?! This is my literal nightmare!” Robin seethes through clenched teeth. “All I wanted to do was get drunk, play spin the bottle, and maybe make out with Vickie! But when I invited her I guess I didn’t make it clear enough that I only wanted her to come, not her entire posse. Then her friends invited their friends, and those friends invited their friends, and on and on and on and on—“
Steve cuts her off, “Where’s Nancy?”
“I lost her,” Robin admits. “She’s probably hiding too.”
“Nancy Wheeler is not gonna hide from her problems. She‘s bolder than that,” says Steve.
Robin crosses her arms defensively. “Is that a dig at me?“
“No, but maybe this whole thing could’ve been controlled a bit better if you didn’t go straight for a hiding spot,” says Steve. “Also, let's just face it: You have tunnel vision. You’ve planned to hang out with Vickie for months and you keep moving it to the next day. What makes you think you’ll be bold enough now to actually make a move?”
“Wow. Okay, fine. Blame all this shit on me. It’s not like I have a reason to be afraid of asking her out. Not like I’ve been teased and bullied by half the people out there just for ‘acting’ gay. Nope. Not me,” says Robin.
Steve mentally slaps himself upside the head. “I’m— I’m not trying to blame you for anything. I’m not even really thinking. I’m just stressed right now—“
“It’s fine. I’m gonna go find Nancy.”
“Robin, wait—“
She leaves without a word. Steve follows behind but loses sight as she enters the house. The party has somehow gotten more crowded with unfamiliar and familiar faces alike. Some try to stop Steve to greet him but he persists and searches for a flash of poorly cut hair. He moves through the hallway and has yet to notice Eddie following behind until he pipes and asks,
“Wait, so Buckley’s gay?”
“Christ—“ Steve finches. It takes a second for him to register the question. “I- I don’t know. So what if she is?”
“I guess it’s just cool to know. Oh shit!” Eddie perks up, suddenly distracted by the new guests that enter through the front door. “Looks like you don’t have to pay me anymore. Travis Romando just made his grand arrival. He’s my money guy.”
Steve squints and spots the man himself, being welcomed inside by a small crew. Travis is a clean-shaven rich kid with shiny blonde hair and a loud voice that reverberates throughout the house. The life of the party, one would assume.
“Didn’t he drop out, like, three years ago to go straight to working for his dad?” Says Steve. “What makes him your ‘money guy’?”
“Well, when we were classmates we had an arrangement where every time I got him off he paid me, like, fifty bucks,” Eddie explains.
“Got him off what?”
“No, like—“ Eddie claws his hand to create an ‘O’ shape, which he shakes back and forth in the air like he’s rolling dice. It takes a second for Steve to realize that, no, he is definitely not rolling dice.
“Jesus, dude!” Steve stops in his tracks to face Eddie. “I thought you said you didn’t offer those services!”
“Oh, so you were interested…” Eddie wiggles his brows.
“No! Of course not!” Steve’s face heats. “You need to stop doing sketchy things for money. I was being serious earlier, I can get you cash. I just need to make sure Robin is okay first.”
“Geez, you really are stressed,” Eddie murmurs. “You’re sweating out of your clothes.”
Steve looks down at himself. His jeans have mostly dried but his pull-on sweater is still darkened and damp from spilled beer and chlorine water.
“Here, put this on,” Eddie unties his flannel from his waist and hands it over.
Steve does not remind Eddie that they are at his house where his own clothes are readily available. He also does not come up with the excuse that his sweater will probably dry off soon. He also fails to mention that he looks awful in red. Instead, Steve pulls off his sweater and exchanges it for Eddie’s clothes.
Eddie bows his head and looks anywhere but at Steve who’s comfortably shirtless in his kitchen where former classmates loiter.
Pine and smoke: the prominent scent follows Eddie and sticks to the flannel. The fabric is cheap, unfitted, and thin but not terribly uncomfortable against Steve’s skin. It’s as he starts buttoning it up, Eddie’s eyes linger back up.
“Leave those three,” Eddie mumbles.
Steve’s brow quirks. “Hm?”
“The three top buttons. Just leave it open. It'll look better,” says Eddie.
Steve does just that, leaving a bit of his chest peeking out. He’s surprised to find Eddie combing his fingers through Steve’s hair to fix the mess he caused earlier as if to wordlessly say, ‘I’m sorry’. Steve can’t help the grin that tugs at the corner of his lip. There’s that word flashing in his head again: Cute. Guys can be cute, too, right? How else is Steve supposed to describe Eddie?
Eddie stands back to view his work and lets out a low whistle. “Alright, Casanova. Now you’re ready.”
Steve tilts his head. “Ready for what?”
“Ready to get laid.” Eddie juts his chin over to the staircase where the clumsy raven-haired lady Steve bumped into sits with a few of her friends.“That chick has been giving you bedroom eyes since you got here. I think she was supposed to graduate last year but got stuck behind. She’s pretty, right? You should talk to her.”
“Sounds like you want to ask her out,” Steve murmurs.
“Nah, man, she’s all yours,” Eddie snorts. “I got my eyes on someone else.”
”Who?” Steve wants to ask but his lips press together instead. His mood dampens and he can’t quite pinpoint why. Perhaps it’s the cheerleaders that have been giggling nearby; they whisper about ‘the freak’ being ‘kind of hotter than Harrington’.
“Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to meet someone tonight,” Steve decides. “I just want these people out of my house.”
“Oh, come on, man! Let's be real, this party is not ending anytime soon. I suggest you just lean into it and try to enjoy your time. It looks like you need it.” Eddie pops open a beer bottle he gets from the kitchen counter. “Just take one sip. Just to loosen up”
Steve looks down at the bottle, the contents of it vibrating from how loud the stereo is. Thump! Thump! Thump! His head beats in time with the music. He looks up to catch the clumsy raven-haired chick batting her eyelashes at him. Indeed, something bubbles inside Steve. A familiar heat of desire. Then he looks at Eddie whose toothy grin crinkles his doe eyes. The feeling doesn’t go away. Oh God.
Steve hurriedly takes his first sip of alcohol of the night and heads off on his own to look for Robin. He checks the kitchen, then the living room, then the mud room, then the downstairs washroom. The only place left is upstairs. The Raven-hair girl still sits on the stairs, pretending to not notice that Steve is approaching. Though not his initial plan he might as well say hi.
Up close she is quite the feat. Rosy cheeks, a sprinkle of freckles along her nose, and a sweet smile that seemingly brightens the room. Flirting has always come naturally for The King. It’s critical that his opening line sweeps her off her feet.
“Hey, are you dead?”
No response. Steve pokes her cheek but her reaction is the same. The shower knob squeaks as it turns, and icey water rains down on her. Finally, Robin shoots up, frantically screaming. At least she’s not dead.
With the shower turned off, she shares a strong resemblance to a street cat who had been stuck in the rain. Water drips from her soaked hair and drums against the tub floor. Her teeth chatter and her hands rub against her arms. Eyeliner rolls down to her cheek as she shoots lasers with her eyes at Steve.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Her voice is raspier than usual, it almost sounds like it hurts to speak. “Why the hell did you put me in a bathtub?!”
“I didn’t put you in a bathtub! I found you here!” Steve yells back.
“Oh my God, you're so loud!” Robin covers her ears with her palms. “And, Jesus Christ, can you turn off the lights? It’s goddamn bright.”
“It’s not even on. You’re hungover.”
“Why am I hungover?”
“I— why else? Do you remember anything from last night?”
Robin opens her mouth but an answer doesn’t come out. She scrunches her brows together and thinks and thinks and thinks until Steve brings a hand mirror to her face, revealing her haggard state. Memories seem to flow in thereafter with the trigger being the same as Steve’s:
“Goddamn it, my bangs!” Robin cries. “I thought my shitty haircut was just in my dream!”
Steve perks up. “What else did you think was a dream?”
Robin thinks for a second, rubbing her temples. “There was a party, it got out of hand, and we’re supposed to be mad at each other or whatever.”
“Anything else?”
“I— I don’t know, it’s all a blur. I need, like, a trigger or something.”
“A trigger, huh? Okay, how about—“
“—this.” Steve pushes his bedroom door open and Robin looks over his shoulder. It takes her a second to process the scene.
“Is that…” She trails off.
“Eddie? Yes,” Steve answers.
“And did you two…” She trails off again.
Steve squints. “...Did we what?”
Robin looks side to side like she’s afraid of who might hear her despite them being alone. She leans in anyway and mouths “bang?”
Steve’s eyes go wide. His entire face goes red. “No!” Is his immediate response.
What a ridiculous accusation! Sure, they may have slept next to each other, but there’s no way they slept together, right? He can’t even imagine it. He can’t imagine ripping off his shirt and tugging at his belt. He can’t imagine being pinned down by his wrists against his own bed. He can’t imagine the shiver up his spine as Eddie leaves a bruise on his neck, and heat is building and they’re both moaning and touching and grinding against each other and oh God, he’s imagining it!
Steve gulps. He looks back at Eddie in bewilderment. All he can think to say out loud is “what the hell happened last night?”