Chapter Text
“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie says, sprawled upside down and backwards on one of the Harrington couches, his legs thrown over the back and his head dangling down so that his hair brushes the floor.
“Hm?” Steve asks, looking over from where he and Robin are chatting.
And maybe it’s a bit weird for Eddie to ask this with Robin here, but Robin is and will always be Steve’s other half, and she’s maybe Eddie’s best friend too, and after that fateful Corroded Coffin concert, she’d cornered Eddie, delighted on their behalf.
Eddie and his bandmates had returned to Hawkins a few days after Steve and Dustin and Eleven did, having decided to make a whole little trip of it together while they were in the city anyways. So Eddie had come home to the new trailer to find Robin perched on the front steps, her bike leaning against the wall. She’d leapt to her feet the second his van pulled up, and she didn’t even give him a chance to greet her, barely out of the van before she tackled him in a hug.
“You two finally got your shit together?” she asked, excitement and delight equally matched with exasperation.
Eddie had tried to hide his grin, averting his gaze, but he wasn’t really trying too hard. It’s Robin. Of course Steve probably told her everything after he’d gotten back.
And Robin had squealed, presumably at Eddie’s stupid lovestruck expression, whooping a delighted, “Fuck yeah! You gotta tell me everything.”
“Didn’t Steve already do that?” Eddie asked, amused, unlocking the door so they could head inside.
“Duh,” Robin had said. “I still wanna hear it from you, too. I’m lucky enough to have the opportunity to do best friend love life gossip twice , you think I’m gonna turn that down? Come on, lets make a fucking pillow nest and lay on your floor and kick our feet and gossip about how you finally kissed the boy you’ve been dancing around for months now.”
Eddie’s face had ached with how wide his smile was.
“Is that how you and Steve did it?” he asks.
“We sprawled out on his bed,” Robin said, “But that’s ‘cause he has a queen and like, a body that’s not just skin and bones. If I use your chest as a pillow and we try and squish onto your tiny twin sized bed, we’re both gonna be miserable.”
So talking about this now with Robin right here, as they settle into their new rhythms, feels perfectly natural to Eddie.
“Stevie,” Eddie continues, now that he has Steve (and Robin’s attention). “I’m gonna take you on that date.”
Steve ducks his head. (Robin grins.)
“I thought we agreed the concert was the first date,” Steve said.
“Sure,” Eddie allows, “And it was pretty great, but you sprung that fact on me afterwards, and I told you I’m still gonna take you out to do something for you. So. I’m gonna take you on that date. What do you want to do?”
Steve picks at a loose thread on Robin’s sleeve where her arm is thrown across his chest.
“Still haven’t thought of anything,” Steve says, but he seems a little more at peace with that than last time they discussed it. “I dunno, I like doing stuff other people like.”
“Okay, but like,” Robin pipes in, “What’s something you’ve done the past few weeks that you’ve enjoyed that didn’t involve babysitting? Or at least, only sort of involved babysitting. Like, which of the things did you like because of the activity itself, not just because you were hanging out with someone who made it worthwhile?”
Steve’s brow furrows, but Robin giving him a framework to start with— things he’s done lately, instead of the overwhelming range of all open-ended possibility— seems to help, and Eddie throws her an appreciative smile, which she returns with a dorky thumbs up.
“I mean, I always like basketball,” Steve says, and his mouth quirks in an amused smile as he glances over at Eddie, “But—”
Eddie heaves a dramatic sigh because it makes Steve and Robin snicker.
“You’re killing me here, sweetheart,” he huffs. “But if you want a basketball date, then goddamit, we will have a basketball date.”
Steve startles a little, blinking, wide-eyed over at Eddie, like he didn’t expect Eddie would agree.
“You don’t have to–” Steve starts.
Eddie cuts him off before he can finish the thought.
“You may have to scrape me up off the court when you’re done with me and deliver my withered remains to Wayne,” he says with a playful grin, “But yeah, we can do that.”
“Oh,” Steve says, so quiet that Eddie suspects it’s not even conscious. His eyes search Eddie’s face, and then his gaze darts away.
“I— basketball’s more fun with lots of people, so maybe not for a date?” Steve says tentatively.
“If you prefer,” Eddie agrees easily. “We can make a thing of it sometime, with Lucas and Eleven and her newly discovered love of sports. I’m claiming Lucas for my team though.”
Steve laughs.
“Eddie, you dumbass,” Robin says, grinning, “Lucas is good, but he’s not good enough to carry your ass against Steve and a literal telepath.”
Eddie purses his lips.
“Me and Lucas and Eleven against Steve?”
“I’m flattered you think I’m good enough to hold my own against Lucas, and again, Eleven and her actual superpowers,” Steve says, “Even with you dragging them down.”
“Hey!” Eddie huffs, throwing a pillow at Steve. “Rude! I’m trying to plan a date for you, and you reward me with insults about my athletic prowess?”
(The reminder of the date rejuvenates the flush on Steve’s face, which is a pretty sweet reward.)
“Seems like it,” Steve says airily. Eddie thinks Robin is currently snickering at how Steve’s trying to play it cool despite his red face, but she could just as easily still be laughing at Eddie’s athletic ineptitude.
“So, if not basketball,” Eddie says a bit later, after their laughter has cooled and they’ve wandered through several other conversational diversions, “Anything else you’ve been enjoying lately?”
Steve pauses in thought.
“It’s kind of nice going for a walk with Will sometimes?” Steve finally offers.
Eddie presses a hand to his chest.
“Stevie,” he jokingly admonishes. “How am I supposed to feel about you suggesting a date idea of something you do all the time with another guy, who has a crush on you no less?”
“Fuck you,” Steve laughs, shoving lightly at Eddie’s shoulder. “If you don’t wanna, you can just say so.”
“I didn’t say that ,” Eddie says. “I’m gonna talk you on a romantic forest walk. Gonna make it the best fucking walk you’ve ever had.”
“Dork,” Steve laughs, but his ears are pink.
Eddie wants to bite them, and then he realizes, you know, maybe I can . So he scrambles to his knees so he can lean over and do so, and that flush immediately rushes all the way across the rest of Steve’s face and down his chest.
Robin shrieks and smacks them both with a cushion.
Unfortunately, Eddie’s not really a ‘walk in the woods’ guy. Sure, he’ll wander into the forest around the trailer park for a smoke or to clear his head, and his preferred picnic table by the high school was tucked into the trees enough so as to hide his old business from prying eyes, and if he wants to hang with Robin or Dustin or the guys somewhere private and quiet, he’d drive his van out into the woods. But Eddie doesn’t do relaxing forest walks with his spare time. He’s far more inclined to stay sprawled out on the couch, or in the back of his van, playing his guitar, or planning for D&D, or writing new songs.
So Eddie has no idea where to actually go on a nice walk in the woods of Hawkins.
“You’re such a bully,” Will laughs. “Who asks a poor kid for dating advice about his unrequited crush?”
Eddie snickers, lounging next to Will on the Byers-Hopper couch where he’d gone for tips.
“Sorry, Baby Byers,” he sing-songs.
Will shakes his head, mock-disappointed. Eddie doesn’t bother to hide his grin. (It’s good for the kid to be able to treat this as fun and easy and not actually that important. Will deserves a harmless crush he can joke about.)
“There’s some nice trails around Lake Tippecanoe,” Will offers. “The lake houses are a little upper middle class but half of them are unoccupied most of the time, and no one will give you a hard time if Steve’s around.”
Will pauses. “Also,” he suggests, “take snacks. Steve always makes sure everyone else has things to eat that they like when he’s doing stuff for people, so, you know.”
“Someone should do that for him,” Eddie finishes the thought. “You’re the best, Will the Wise. Knew I could count on you. I’ll make a proper fucking picnic out of it.”
Then he pauses.
“Where the fuck do I get a picnic basket?”
Will laughs, head tucking in, eyes twinkling. “I think mom has one somewhere. I’ll see if I can find it.”
“How’s Saturday?” Eddie asks as soon as Steve picks up the phone.
“For what?” Steve asks. “Also, hi Eddie, you’ve reached the Harrington residence, this is Steve, yes, I am free to talk a moment, thank you for asking.”
Eddie snickers.
“You’re so fussy,” he teases. “I can’t believe you make it look cute.”
Steve makes a funny little strangled noise.
“I don’t make it look anything,” he sputters, “We’re on the phone.”
“Sound cute then,” Eddie corrects easily. “See? Fussy.”
“Fuck you too,” Steve grumbles. “How’s Saturday for what?”
“That date,” Eddie says.
A beat, and then a quiet, “Oh.”
“You free?” Eddie asks carefully, keeping his tone easy and upbeat to hide it.
“I— yeah. Yeah,” Steve says. Eddie can picture the way Steve ducks his head when he’s a little startled, a little shy. He wonders if Steve’s doing that now, even if there’s no one around to see it.
“Perfect,” Eddie says, heart pounding, butterflies filling his chest. “I’ll pick you up at yours at two?”
“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, and Eddie’s buoyed by the smile he can hear in Steve’s voice. “Sounds good.”
And because the trailer is too small to talk on the phone privately, when Eddie hangs up, he turns to see Wayne leaning against the kitchenette counter, one eyebrow raised.
“Gonna take a boy on a date this Saturday,” Eddie sing-songs. There’s no way Wayne doesn’t know who, but Eddie’s not gonna say it out loud. Not when things are still new and delicate, not when Steve is still figuring things out, not when they still live in Hawkins, not until Steve tells Eddie it’s okay.
“Yeah?” Wayne asks. “What are ya gonna do?”
There’s something soft on his face, and Eddie realizes with an abrupt jolt that this is the first time he’s taken anyone on a date, and Wayne knows it. Sure, Eddie’s had hookups and flings, but a date?
“Gonna go on a walk and a picnic,” Eddie says, suddenly a little self-conscious and bashful.
Wayne immediately laughs, and Eddie huffs, folding his arms across his chest.
“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, Uncle Wayne,” he complains.
“‘s a good date,” Wayne says reassuringly, although there’s still a little crinkle at the corner of his eyes. “Just never thought my Eddie would take someone out on a picnic. ‘s real sweet of you.”
“Are you saying I can’t be sweet?” Eddie grumbles, fond, despite himself.
Wayne just huffs an amused snort that’s just a little rude.
“Sure, Ed,” he says.
“You’re patronizing me,” Eddie complains. “This is so patronizing.”
“Sure, Ed,” Wayne agrees, and Eddie yanks a coat off the hook by the door to ball up and throw at him.
Eddie spends a stupid amount of time getting dressed on Saturday.
“You’re gonna be late if you keep changing your shirt, Ed,” Wayne shouts from the front of the trailer.
“I’m not changing my shirt!” Eddie shouts back, changing his shirt. Metal band tees don’t seem like the right tone for a romantic walk by the lake. He settles for a plain black shirt, but that’s too plain and it’s too hot for his leather jacket, so he darts quickly across the cramped hall into Wayne’s room and poaches a light flannel.
“The fuck are you—” Wayne starts as Eddie sprints back to his room again, and is cut off by the slam of his door. Eddie can just barely hear Wayne’s put upon sigh as Eddie turns around in the mirror to survey himself. Chains from his belt, because he’s still Eddie, his most flattering pair of jeans, a couple leather bracelets. It’ll do, and Wayne’s right that Eddie will be late if he doesn’t get a move on.
Then Eddie pauses one last moment, and grabs a scrap of pale gray-blue cloth, tying it around his wrist.
Wayne heaves another sigh as Eddie sprints out the door, helpfully holding out the picnic basket Eddie was just about to forget.
“You’re the best, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie calls out over his shoulder.
“Have a fun date,” Wayne says back, shaking his head.
Max and Lucas and Will are sitting out front of the Mayfield trailer as Eddie tumbles into his van.
“You look nice,” Max calls out, a mean, mocking edge to it. Eddie flips her off. Lucas snickers.
“I was wrong,” Eddie says, pointing an accusing finger at Will. “You’re terrible, and a menace, and I never should’ve trusted you.”
“Have fun,” is all Will says, sweet enough Eddie almost forgives him.
“Don’t break his heart,” Lucas says lightly, and Eddie’s overwhelmed with a complicated fondness that Lucas cares for Steve, and that Lucas clearly isn’t actually worried, but also—
“Sinclair, are you trying to fucking give me a shovel talk when I’m about to be late?”
“Maybe you should try harder to be punctual then,” Max snarks.
“You’re all terrible,” Eddie complains as he slams the driver door and turns the ignition. He rolls down his window as he peels out, and raises his voice to make sure he’s heard. “Terrible!” he shouts.
Steve answers his door in a polo and Eddie exaggerates his sigh.
“I put in all this work to look nice, and here you are in one of those damn polos,” he huffs as Steve locks his door.
“Fuck off,” Steve laughs. “I look good in them, and your jeans have three separate rips in them.”
Eddie rolls his eyes and opens the passenger side door for Steve, half as a chivalrous gesture, and half because it jams, and if you don’t know the right way to yank up on the handle it won’t open.
“You look good, period,” Eddie complains. “The polos have nothing to do with it. They look good because of you, not the other way around.”
“Oh my god, Eddie,” Steve says, but he’s wearing a pleased smile as he averts his gaze, despite the exasperated tone.
Then Steve pauses halfway into climbing into the van.
“Everything okay?” Eddie asks, trying to ignore the rising anxiety at the funny look on Steve’s face.
“You’re wearing that stupid sleeve,” Steve says, and Eddie tracks his line of sight to the ragged blue cotton tied around his wrist. Eddie grins, anxiety instantly sloughing off and giving way to something effervescent and buoyant.
“I am,” he says, tilting his arm to show it off. “It’s my good luck charm, don’t you know? Was given to me by the sweetest boy I’ve ever met, and it hasn’t failed me yet. See, I’m taking that boy on a date today, and I really want to get it right, so—”
Steve goes bright red, scrambling into the passenger seat, and yanking the door from Eddie to slam it shut.
Eddie laughs, full-throated and bright, and he rounds the van to get into the driver’s seat.
“You’re shameless,” Steve says, face still glowing.
“Mm-hm,” Eddie agrees, pulling out of the Harrington driveway. “It’s just the truth though, you know?”
Steve cuts him off by jabbing his finger into the radio, then grimacing as it plays the last tape Eddie had in shrieks to life in the middle of a Judas Priest solo. (Eddie’s pretty sure it’s partly for show, and that Judas Priest is actually towards the top of metal bands that Steve will tolerate for him.)
“This fucking sucks,” Steve complains, and he switches it to the actual radio, immediately tuning it to the local top 40s station.
“Hey!” Eddie sputters, swatting away Steve’s hand. “Absolutely not!”
“Oh, come on,” Steve says, “You can’t actually complain about Lionel Richie.”
“I can and I will,” Eddie grouses, “And even worse, this station will follow it up with some shit like Journey or the Cars. Change it back!”
Steve starts singing along to ‘Dancing on the Ceiling’ just to spite Eddie, and Eddie reaches over to change it himself. The van swerves, and Steve shrieks, half laughing.
“Keep your hands on the wheel, you menace!” Steve shouts, clutching the oh shit handle. “What the hell was I thinking when I agreed to let you pick me up?”
They bicker all the way to Lake Tippecanoe, and then Eddie complains about the encounter with Max and Lucas and Will to a laughing Steve, and then Steve tells Eddie about how, the previous day, some girls who had been particularly nasty to Robin back at Hawkins High had shown up, and so Steve had secretly swapped the tape for Friday the 13th into the Sixteen Candles case.
Eddie throws his head back and laughs as they stroll along the edge of the lake.
“You’re so catty,” he says. “I bet you even gave them that sweet Harrington smile and told them to have a good day, or that you hoped they enjoyed the movie or something too.”
“Maybe,” Steve says, grinning.
They pass one of the lake houses where a tanned middle aged woman is locking her door, and she looks up.
“Oh, Steve!” she says. “Good to see you. Enjoying the lake?”
“Hi Denise,” Steve says with a wave, “It’s a good day for it.”
The woman smiles back brightly, though it fades into the tiniest edge of suspicion as she eyes Eddie. Eddie’s only a little disgruntled, because this is his respectable look, damn it. No skulls or devils to be seen anywhere.
“Okay if we sit on the dock for a bit?” Steve continues.
“Go for it,” she says, apparently placated enough by Steve’s presence. “I was about to head out.”
Steve waves and smiles as he and Eddie head down the dock and she gets in her car.
“You know her?” Eddie asks.
“Sort of, but not really. She nearly chewed me and Will out for trespassing once, but I unleashed Will’s sweet, well-behaved, innocent face on her, so now we have free reign of her dock.”
Eddie laughs, and they fold into a seat down at the end.
“Oh my god, Steve, are you training Will in the Harrington charm?”
“I’m not training him in anything,” Steve huffs. “He’s just a sweet kid, and he needs a little more confidence to utilize it.”
“You totally are,” Eddie says grinning, bumping their shoulders. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re gonna unleash that kid on Hawkins High in the fall to classmates that haven’t seen him since middle school, and only knew him as that quiet kid who disappeared way back when. He’s gonna wreck fucking havoc. He’s gonna break so many fucking hearts and not even realize it. There’s going to be at least one poor closeted kid in Hawkins who is gonna be absolutely fucking gone on that boy.”
Steve snorts at Eddie’s drama, but there’s something a little tentative as he looks sidelong at Eddie.
“You think there’s other kids in Hawkins?” he asks, voice going a little quieter.
“I know it,” Eddie says, gentling his voice. “Guaranteed.” He shifts his hand, hooks his pinky with Steve’s where it lays on the dock. “We’re not that alone, no matter what the rest of the world would like us to think.”
They spend most of the afternoon talking, because they’re still technically in public, but it’s secluded enough that they can sit just a little too close, thighs bumping, fingers tangled. Steve goes wide eyed and startled when they loop back to the van to grab the picnic basket, and he ducks his head to hide his shy smile when Eddie dramatically shakes out a blanket and unloads the snacks, as if Eddie’s presented him with a dozen roses, champagne, and truffles, and not a bunch of bananas, two packs of Lays, a box of Milk Duds, and some bottles of juice.
When the sun starts to go down, Eddie drives Steve back, taking a roundabout route as the sky goes red and purple, gilding the greens and golds of the fields outside of Hawkins, stereo turned down low and playing a tape Max had left in— faintly staticky and dreamy, in between Steve and Eddie’s taste enough that neither of them complain. Eddie lets himself glance over at Steve, wind tousling his hair through the open windows, looking loose limbed and relaxed.
Steve catches one of the glances.
“What are you looking at?”
“You, obviously.”
Steve laughs.
“Enjoying the view?” he teases, and the ease of it makes Eddie’s chest feel tight and warm.
“Obviously,” Eddie says again, forcing himself to keep his voice light.
Steve laughs again, softly.
And then when Eddie finally drops Steve off at his house, he walks Steve to the door, and then pauses, and asks, “Can I come in, just for a second?”
Steve blinks, already unlocking the door.
“Yeah, of course.”
So Eddie follows on his heels, and when the door shuts behind him, he hooks his fingers in the collar of Steve’s stupid polo and drags him forward to steal a kiss. It’s soft and warm and Eddie can still taste the faintest bit of potato chip salt and cheap chocolate sweetness.
“I know a goodnight kiss on the front stoop is the traditional move,” Eddie rasps when they part, “But, you know, don’t want the neighbors to see. And I like getting to have you to myself.”
Steve’s face is flushed and his hair is a mess where Eddie had gotten his fingers into it, and distantly Eddie thinks he suddenly actually understands the logic of the front stoop. Because the allure of this is dangerous— they’re already inside, so it would be so easy to crowd Steve back into the wall, or down the hall and onto his couch, or up those stairs to his room, or—
Eddie forces himself to step back. (And Steve lets out this tiny despondent huff, and dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, Eddie really doesn’t want to go.)
“See you tomorrow, maybe?” he asks, resting a hand on the doorknob, heart fluttering.
“See you tomorrow,” Steve says, eyes crinkling. “Not just ‘maybe.’ For sure. You’ve got Hellfire planned, don’t you?”
And that’s a fucking shock to the system, because, “Oh fuck, it is, isn’t it? Oh, fuck.”
Steve’s laughing.
“Did you forget to plan something?”
“There’s an encounter I haven’t quite worked out yet that I was going to straighten out, and then I got distracted, and then—”
Steve grins.
“I guess you better get going, cram some last minute work in tonight.”
Eddie affects a little bit of excessive drama in his groan, throwing his head back.
“I’m gonna be up all night,” he complains.
Then he can’t help himself, and he darts in for one last, quick kiss.
“Gonna be slow going when all I can think about is you,” he says, putting a teasing spin to his tone, even if it’s absolutely true.
Steve goes red, and starts shoving Eddie out the door.
“You’re a menace, Munson,” he says, not bothering to hide his own grin as Eddie stumbles out, laughing. “Get out of my house.”