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Since they’ve finished the renovations, the Byers-Hopper’s new farmhouse has quickly become the party’s number one hangout.
With a basement fit for running DnD campaigns out of, a yard spacious enough to chase each other for hours in, plenty of soft sofas and cushions for everyone to crash on around the television set, and a homey kitchen with a dining table big enough to seat them all, it’s perfect. Not to mention, Joyce has personally extended an open invitation to every single one of them; her home is their home and they are welcome anytime.
So, yeah, home base these days looks a lot like the rustic, cozy living room in the middle of that big, beautiful house.
Which is exactly where Steve finds himself tonight. The whole party has come together for one of their beloved movie nights, and there is no better place to do it than right there.
They’re on the third or maybe fourth film of the night, but Steve isn’t the only one that has lost count. The kids are all spread out and sprawled out across the floor, fast asleep where they’re squished together in one big puppy pile. Dustin, Will, and Lucas are so tangled that it’s hard to tell who’s limbs start and end where, and further down, Max uses Mike’s shin as a pillow. How that’s comfortable, Steve has no idea — the Wheeler’s are the boniest bunch of people he knows.
El is the only one of the kids not on the floor. Instead, she lies on the couch, curled up like a bug against Joyce’s side. Her head is in Joyce’s lap. and Joyce runs her fingers soothingly through El’s hair. She’s tucked up under Hopper’s arm, and he trails the tips of his fingers up and down her arm. Kisses her temple every so often.
It’s cute, they’re cute. Steve keeps stealing glances at them, wishing he could be the one cuddled up to someone like that.
Instead he’s just squished between Robin and Eddie on their couch. Robin lies to his right, mostly slumped onto Nancy, who sits to her right, but she’s kicked up her feet into Steve’s lap. She keeps wiggling her socked toes to catch his attention, then bounces her eyebrows up and down as she looks past him to where Eddie sits to Steve’s left.
Each time it happens Steve pinches her leg. That doesn’t deter her in the slightest, though. She just whispers to Nancy and the two of them giggle quietly together.
Steve tries to ignore it, and thankfully, he’s pretty successful at that. Beside him, Eddie keeps dipping his head towards Steve so he can whisper his string of running commentary about each of the movies they’ve watched. It ranges from interesting factoids about the film, to silly discrepancies and plot points that make no sense, to putting on a goofy voice and imitating the characters to make them say ridiculous things instead. Steve’s heart squeezes in his chest each time Eddie says something new.
The current movie has been on for a little over an hour now, but neither one of them have really been following along. Instead, they’ve been making things up to match the action unfolding onscreen. Intricate, over the top backstories for the main characters and all the side ones too; ridiculous, senseless motivations for every move they make; witty, snappy one liners to replace the cheesy dialogue that actually exists in the movie. It’s a good thing most of their company has retired for the night, otherwise they’d have been shushed right out of the room.
It isn’t too much longer before Nancy and Robin decide they’ve had enough for the night and bid the room adieu. They slip off down the hall towards the guest bedroom that they’re sharing, leaving the rest of the couch finally free. Neither Steve nor Eddie move to stretch out into the empty space, though. They stay pressed up against each other, the way they’ve been all night.
Eventually, Eddie yawns so wide that his jaw cracks.
“Alright,” he declares, a finality to his tone. He drops a hand to Steve’s knee, to give it a pat. “Time for me to turn in.”
His hand slips off of Steve’s knee, and he rises to his feet, stretching his arms up and out. The hem of his t-shirt rides up, and Steve has to bite down on his tongue.
He lets the residual warmth from Eddie’s touch pull him off of the couch too, almost like he’s chasing it. Chasing Eddie.
“Yeah, okay, me too,” Steve says, busying himself with folding the blanket he and Eddie had been sharing. He drapes it over the back of the couch and turns to say goodnight to Joyce and Hopper.
“Heading to sleep already?” Joyce asks, turning her attention to the two of them. “Your room’s down the hall on the right. Will said he dropped your bags in there earlier.”
“Thanks, Mrs. B-H,” Eddie says, throwing her a finger gun and a charming smile.
“Joyce, Eddie,” she reminds him, raising her eyebrows in that stern, motherly way. The soft smile set onto her own mouth softens it. Tells him that her exasperation is only fond.
Eddie ducks his head, chuckling. “Joyce,” he corrects.
“Thank you, Joyce,” Steve chimes in, not making the same mistake as Eddie. He flashes him a smug little grin, and swallows down his laugh when Eddie subtly sticks his middle finger out at him.
Hopper, of course, notices, and he just snorts gruffly, shaking his head in amusement.
“You two have a good night,” Steve tells them, straightening up.
“You too, sweetie,” Joyce replies. “And if you boys need anything you come find me, okay?”
They nod and relay their thanks once more before Steve gives a little wiggle of his fingers as a parting wave, then turns to shove at Eddie’s shoulders until he starts to walk towards the hallway.
“I’m going, I’m going!” Eddie insists, but he lets himself be manhandled anyway.
Their room is the last door on the right, just like Joyce told them.
Eddie pushes inside first, immediately flicking the lights on. He spots their bags in the corner and beelines straight for them.
Steve, on the other hand, freezes in the doorway.
Because, oh. Oh .
There’s only one bed.
Which — Steve doesn’t know why this surprises him. This isn’t a hotel. It’s a guest room at a friend’s house. Of course it’s not going to have two beds in one room. He doesn’t know why he was expecting that.
But it’s — it’s fine. This is cool. He can share a bed for the night. He’s shared lots of beds in his day. There’s nothing different about this time.
Except that there is because he doesn’t have to share with just anybody. He has to share with Eddie .
Eddie, who hasn’t even batted an eye at the bed situation. Eddie, who seems cool as a cucumber about it. Eddie, who—
Who’s already shucked his shirt off and has his thumbs hooked into his sweats, about to tug those off too, and jesus fucking christ , Steve can’t do this. He cannot do this.
He clears his throat. “You know, uh, I’m gonna go ask Joyce if there’s, like, a blow up mattress or something,” Steve says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
Without waiting for a response, he starts to turn. But Eddie catches his wrist, stopping him before he can even take a step.
Steve pointedly does not look down at Eddie’s bare legs and his too small boxers that have little gremlin heads all over. (And, jesus, how the fuck does he make gremlin boxers fucking work ? It’s not fair. It’s not fair at all .)
Eddie’s brows quirk up. His teeth practically glint and his eyes sparkle as he asks, “Scared of my cooties, Harrington?”
And it’s not exactly like Steve can snark back with a funny story, but quite the opposite, actually . So he settles for twisting his arm out of Eddie’s grasp and laughing it off.
“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” he deadpans. “Bed just looks small is all,” he adds with a shrug.
Eddie watches him for a moment, then makes a face. “Aw, come on, Stevie, there’s enough room for both of us.”
That didn’t work. Steve tries again.
“Well if you sleep at all like you walk—” he flings his arms around and kicks his feet out all loosey goosey with each step he takes — “then I’d rather save myself the trouble. I bruise like a peach, Munson. A peach!”
Eddie barks out a laugh, like he genuinely thinks that’s funny, then he sways forward, further into Steve’s space.
Steve tries to take a subtle step back, but he bumps right into the dresser, trapped.
“You’re resilient,” Eddie says, tilting his head like a curious puppy. “Besides, if that’s what you’re so worried about — don’t be.”
“Oh yeah? Why not?” Steve asks, not nearly as challenging as he’d like to be.
Eddie leans in closer, grin sharp. “‘Cause I’m a cuddler.”
Then he’s gone from Steve’s space, just like that, dancing across the room to pick his side of the bed.
And Steve? Steve is screwed .
He makes quick work of changing into his own pajamas — or of removing his own clothes, since he too had opted for just his good ‘ol briefs to keep his modesty during the night. He wishes he’d had the forethought to wear boxers at the very least. His tighty whitey’s leave him feeling too exposed.
Steve tries not to dwell on it, though. (Because dwelling on his underwear just makes him think of Eddie’s underwear, and that is the last thing he needs right before he slips into bed with him.)
Eddie’s already beneath the covers, rolled onto his side and fidgeting as he tries to get comfortable.
Steve approaches the empty half of the bed — the right side, his usual side. Part of him wonders if Eddie knew that or if it was just a lucky guess. The other part of him wonders if maybe the left side is just Eddie’s usual side. If that means that they just fit .
What the hell, Steve, get a fucking grip , he tells himself, shaking his head clear.
He takes a moment to collect himself — to steel himself, as he reaches for the lamp light. It’ll be easier to climb into bed with the lights out. If he can’t see Eddie, then Eddie can’t see him, and that means there’s less of a chance of somehow embarrassing himself.
“Come on in, the water’s fiiiiine ,” Eddie sing-songs, smacking his hand down onto the empty space beside him.
Steve huffs out a laugh, then turns out the light.
The room plunges into darkness, but it’s not pitch black. There’s too much residual glow from the moonlight outside seeping in through the window blinds, but it’s dark enough that it isn’t so daunting as Steve crawls into bed and slips under the sheets.
He lies flat on his back, folds his hands over his belly button, and wiggles his shoulders a little to settle into the pillow.
“Goodnight, Eddie,” Steve says.
He doesn’t close his eyes, though. How can he? He’s hyper aware of Eddie beside him, not touching but close enough that Steve can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin. He’s breathing softly, but it’s loud enough that it echoes through Steve’s ears.
Eddie doesn’t say anything back at first. But Steve can feel his eyes on him.
Then, “That’s it ? ‘Goodnight’,” he mimics, dropping his voice to sound like Steve’s.
He squirms closer, and suddenly his knee is against the side of Steve’s thigh, his toes brushing Steve’s shin. Steve’s heart rate spikes.
“That’s how you’re sleeping?” Eddie asks, full of judgment.
Steve frowns. “Yeah,” he replies, the duh very much implied. (Not that there’s any bit of truth to that answer. He hadn’t exactly planned on getting any sleep tonight. This is just the easiest position to control himself in, that’s all.)
“On your back ?” Eddie questions.
“Yeah,” Steve repeats. “ Goodnight .”
Eddie scoffs. “Jesus, no wonder you never get enough sleep. People who sleep on their backs are monsters,” he jokes.
Steve ignores him.
Eddie leans in close. Pokes his finger into Steve’s arm. “You’re a monster , Stevie,” he whispers.
Unsatisfied with the lack of response, Eddie continues too.
“This isn’t a coffin, y’know,” Eddie teases, flopping onto his back and crossing his arms in an X over his chest. He sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth too, playing dead.
Steve continues to ignore him.
Eddie rolls back onto his side, facing Steve. Somehow, he’s even closer. “You can get comfortable,” he says.
“I am comfortable,” Steve replies, finally breaking his silence.
“Bullshit,” Eddie objects. “You’re as stiff as a rock.” He prods Steve again as if to prove his point when he doesn’t budge. Then he curls his fingers around Steve’s bicep.
His touch lights every single nerve in Steve’s arm up, and he has to dig his nails into the backs of his hands to keep from doing something stupid, like pulling Eddie’s hand away from his arm so he can hold it instead.
“I’m not gonna bite, y’know,” Eddie says lightly. A second passes, and Steve can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he adds, “Unless you want me to.”
And it’s too much , jesus christ, it’s way too much .
“Could you just back off?” Steve finally snaps.
He regrets it instantly.
Eddie’s hand falls from his arm, like he’s the one that got burned, and the sheets rustle as he shrinks back into his own space. His knee disappears from Steve’s thigh, his toes leave his shin, and Steve suddenly feels cold.
“Okay, okay, sorry,” Eddie says, sobered. He sounds so small. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
And Steve wants to cry because no , that is not it at all . He’s not uncomfortable, not even close, and he’s not upset either. He’s just… overwhelmed. But even that isn’t a bad thing. Eddie didn’t do anything wrong.
“Eddie,” Steve says, rolling onto his side to face Eddie. Eddie’s back is to him, though. Steve reaches out, but he doesn’t touch. He just lets his hand hover over Eddie’s back.
“That’s not it,” he tells him. “I’m not uncomfortable, I promise.”
Eddie makes a noise, sort of like a scoff. Like he doesn’t believe him. “Sure,” he says.
“I’m not!” Steve insists and he flattens his palm to Eddie’s skin. Bends his fingers over the curve of Eddie’s shoulder.
“Then what is it?” Eddie asks, turning over. The movement shakes Steve’s hand off. “What’s your deal, Steve?”
Steve winces at the way he says his name. It doesn’t sound very nice. Not the way it usually does when Eddie says it. God, he’s fucked this up so bad.
Why couldn’t he just chill the fuck out and share the bed like a normal person? Why did he have to ruin everything ?
There’s only one way to fix this, though. There’s only one way, and Steve has to do it.
“I want it too much.”
“What?”
Steve squeezes his eyes shut. “I want it too much,” he repeats.
There’s a beat, a totally silent, totally nervwracking beat. And then… the mattress shifts. Eddie’s knee presses into his thigh again. His knuckles graze against Steve’s where his hand lies atop the pillow between them.
“Want… what, exactly?” Eddie asks slowly, and he’s close enough now that Steve can feel his breath ghosting against his face.
Steve opens his eyes, and Eddie’s there, he’s right there, with his big, round eyes. With his parted lips. With this naked vulnerability laying his face bare.
Steve swallows. Lets out a shaky exhale.
“You.”
Eddie sucks in a sharp breath.
“Me?” He whispers.
Steve nods. “ You ,” he repeats, putting everything behind that one word.
Eddie makes a choked noise, and Steve has zero point five seconds to start to panic before Eddie’s hands fly up to grab either side of his face, squishing his cheeks almost painfully, and he practically throws himself on top of Steve as he tackles him into the pillow and catches his mouth in a kiss.
It’s messy; Eddie sort of misses Steve’s mouth at first, accidentally nails more of his chin than his lips, and when he does finally find those, their teeth end up clacking from the force of their smiles that keep trying to break through. They end up doing more laughing into each other’s mouths than kissing at first, but then Steve slides his hands up Eddie’s back, and Eddie’s gasps into his mouth and Steve takes the chance to fit their lips together properly. To kiss and to kiss and to kiss .
When they break apart seconds, minutes, hours — who even knows? — later, Steve feels like he’s floating on air.
“Jesus christ ,” Eddie laughs beside him as he rolls off of Steve to flop back against his own pillow. He doesn’t let go of Steve’s hand.
“ You want me. You want me. You want me ,” Eddie repeats, laughing delightedly again.
Steve twists towards Eddie, wriggling into his space. “And you want me too,” he says.
Eddie nods, cupping Steve’s jaw again. “There’s nothin’ I want more, Stevie.”
Steve ducks in for another kiss — he can’t help himself. It’s short, and it’s sweet, but it’s everything to him.
He makes a mental note to get up early tomorrow to cook Joyce a great big breakfast. Maybe swing by her favorite little local cafe for some coffee and find a nice bouquet of flowers somewhere too. He’s got to thank her somehow — it’s her house, her home , afterall, that gave him the nudge he needed. That gave him Eddie .
When Steve finally falls asleep that night, it’s with Eddie starfished against his back, legs tangled with his beneath the covers, arms secure around Steve’s waist, and nose tucked into the crook of his neck.
He’s definitely a cuddler.
But so is Steve.