Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eddie never thought of himself as a romantic. Sharing milkshakes? Cuddling after sex? Fucking hand holding? He’d pass, thank you very much. The thought of having to take on someone else’s shit, along with still dealing with your own, of having to coexist with someone, of sticking to one bed for the rest of his life? It all just never appealed to him, because in Eddie’s superior opinion, monogamy was an outdated religious concept that for some reason even the non-religious types still adhered to, and he was fine staying far away from all of that. Why not just skip to the fun part of being with someone and be done with it? Why add all the unnecessary bullshit?

He’d always been more than happy with the quick and dirty of Indy. He’d always been content to get his rocks off with some guy with the mutual understanding that they’d never have to see each other again. It was the beautiful symbiotic relationship of two gay dudes who would forever be a stain on the collective American moral conscious. And he loved being a stain on moral consciouses.

But Steve fucking Harrington, the goddamn bastard, is making him yearn . Tore the Munson Doctrine to shreds, the sacrilegious asshole.

Eddie should’ve known better, when they kissed for the first time. Should’ve known that getting involved with a friend would be a mistake, seeing as the Upside Down has definitely bonded them for life, for better and for worse, and all that crap, so he couldn’t just bail like he did with everyone else. He also should’ve known that Steve would be the kind of guy who sticks around. Because Steve Harrington wears his heart on his fucking sleeve, where anyone could just come along and tear it to shreds. So it’s a lot of pressure , a lot of responsibility, to look at Steve Harrington’s beautiful, affection filled face and know all that’s directed at you . Eddie knows he’s one fuck up away from breaking that into a million tiny pieces. Frankly, it’s terrifying. 

It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

He’d only admit that under the pain of death, but, he’s still pretty new to all of this.

1.

The only thing Eddie Munson can think of as he stands on Steve Harrington’s porch, is Bilbo telling Frodo how it’s a dangerous business, walking out your front door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you’ll be swept off to. Evidently, Eddie hadn’t kept his fucking feet, because he’s still doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing here.

Well, he does, in the literal sense, but every part of his brain that has a single shred of self preservation is screaming at him to get the hell out!

But the other part of his brain, the part of his brain that goes all moon-eyed at the mere mention of Steve Harrington- knocks.

The door opens comically quickly, like Steve had been waiting for him just on the other side.

“Eddie.” And fuck this guy, for being able to make his knees weak with just his name.

“Stevie,” Eddie greets, instead of the fuck you.

Steve kisses him, once the door is shut behind them, takes his jacket, leads him inside, and pulls a chair out for him at a dining table that’s bigger than the trailer’s bathroom. 

“Be right back,” Steve says, once Eddie's gotten comfortable.

Eddie feels incredibly awkward, for a moment, at Steve’s dark wood table with placemats like they’re expecting the Queen of England or some shit. But then Steve comes back in with a big pot of something that smells divine, placing it on one of those fancy coasters for hot things. He’s back out of the room a moment later, and Eddie can hear him puttering about, clattering things around.

“Can I help?” Eddie asks.

“Nope!” Steve shouts back, “keep your pretty ass in the chair, sunshine, I’m wooing you!”

Wooing him, Jesus Christ. Despite himself, Eddie snorts a laugh, and finally feels comfortable enough to relax his spine.

Steve brings back bowls and a wooden cutting board with bread, placing them all just so on the long table.

“One last thing, I promise,” he says, and there’s a blush across his cheeks and down his neck, and it’s the cutest thing Eddie’s seen in his entire life.

Steve comes back with something behind his back, an apprehensive smile on his face. “These are for you,” he mumbles, and pulls out a bouquet of flowers.

They’re wrapped in brown paper, and a string of twine ties the stems together. The flowers are enormous, as big as Eddie’s palm, and so dark they’re almost black.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of flowers you like,” Steve says, and it sounds like he’s apologizing, “but I thought you’d like the dark ones.” 

Eddie tilts his head to sniff them.

“They’re dahlias.” Steve explains, and then, “sorry, they don’t have much of a scent.”

What the fuck. What the hell is going on? Steve Harrington didn’t just rip the Munson Doctrine to shreds, he burnt it alive and is dancing on the fucking ashes.

“I’ve never gotten flowers before,” Eddie mumbles, stupidly, and he can’t take his eyes off their dark petals, even as Steve sits down on the chair across from him.

“Is that because you don’t like flowers? Is that weird, to give a guy? Or-”

“No!” Eddie says, sharply, and he surprises himself with how protectively he pulls the flowers to his chest. He bites at his bottom lip before he lets out a quiet, “thank you, Stevie.”

Steve grins at him, the lines around his mouth deepening, and leans forward to peck him on the lips. Jesus.

“Can I have some water?” Eddie asks when they part, and Steve jerks.

“Oh shit, how did I forget drinks? ” He’s out of his seat before he’s even completed his sentence, already halfway to the kitchen.

“Not for me-” Eddie adds, and Steve twirls around. “Just,” he starts, then continues, “I don’t want them to wilt.” He holds the flowers a little closer to his chest.

“Oh,” Steve exhales, and Eddie kind of can’t cope with the fondness that’s going all gooey all over his face. “Yeah, Eddie, of course.”

And if Eddie has to go to the library to check out a book that will instruct him on how to press flowers, well, only the librarian saw him.

2.

“I will not be rubbing aloe on any of your smarmy backs so you all better be lotioned up!” Steve shouts at the teens retreating figures, his voice lost to their excited laughter. 

“I’m sure they’re all lathered up, sweetheart,” Eddie comments.

“That’ll be the day,” Steve sighs, and slams his trunk closed. 

Robin and Nancy had already claimed a spot on the pebbly shore, and the kids were all already in the water by the time Steve and Eddie came around with the cooler.

“Please tell me you brought Yoo-hoos,” Robin sighs, mouth twisting into an exaggerated pout.

“I brought your nasty Yoo-hoos,” Steve sighs, like this is a battle lost.

“ Nasty ,” Robin huffs, as they drop the cooler onto the slanted shore.

“I like the strawberry,” Nancy agrees, and Robin points to her aggressively. “See, Steven ?” She slides off her chair to inspect the contents of the cooler. “At least my girlfriend gets it.” She whispers.

“You’re both foul,” Steve asserts, and grabs Eddie’s elbow.

Robin squawks something about homophobia and from her own people, no less, while Steve ignores her to spread out their towels. 

Unfortunately, without chairs the shore is actually pretty uncomfortable, no one really claims Indiana is home to any nice lakes, but it’s the best one in an hour’s driving distance, and, at least for now, is sparsely populated. 

“Want to get in the water?” Steve asks, right when Eddie finds a semi-comfortable position, and now it’s Eddie’s turn to give him a bewildered look.

“Stevie, you know I can’t swim, right?”

Steve shrugs. “Hold on to me, then.”

“Hold. Onto you.”

Steve slides his sunglasses over his eyes. “C’mon, we’ll terrorize the rugrats, it’ll be fun.” He leans in a little closer. “And they can’t call us gross, cause I’ll be preventing you from drowning. ”

Eddie almost agrees. Almost, but the thought of swimming where anything could just wrap around your ankle and yank- yeah, no thanks. 

Spring break did very little to calm those fears.

So Steve gives his hand a little squeeze and then runs off to the water to have his fun.

Eddie breathes deeply, in and out. Steve’s right there. He’s right there, and there’s no portal here.

There’s no portal here.

So he reads The Fellowship for the millionth time and peers over his sunglasses to watch sexy ass Steve Harrington thrash around in the water with a bunch of teenagers. He cracks open a red Gatorade when he gets thirsty, and chats to Robin and Nancy about nothing, and tries very hard to be normal about missing someone who’s fifty feet away. And eventually, between the warmth of the sun, the sound of the water, and the quiet chatter of his favorite queers, Eddie drifts. 

He wakes to fingers gently prodding his arm. He wiggles and the fingers retreat. He cracks his eyes open to an apologetic expression.

“ Sorry,” Steve whispers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Does that mean we can fucking talk now?” Comes Mike’s bitchy voice, and Steve hisses language like that will actually do anything.

The volume of chatter picks up a bit, and Eddie slowly stretches into a seated position. He rubs at his eyes. He realizes there’s a thick glob of sunscreen in the inner part of his elbow.

“Were you- putting sunscreen on me?” He looks down to the tacky glob and then back up at Steve.

“I didn’t want you to get sunburned,” Steve says softly. “Or for your tattoos to fade.”

“Oh.” And he looks down again to see that the sunscreen is, indeed, right where his bats are. And, like an emotionally constipated jackass, he asks, “like my tattoos that much, Harrington?”

Steve grins, wide and blushing. “Of course I do.” And then he kisses him, right on the temple. Which is. Which is fine. Eddie can be normal about this. About someone putting sunscreen on him because they don’t want to see him red and in pain, about getting kissed on the temple like doing that is the most natural thing in the world.

And because he’s being so very normal about it, Eddie mumbles, “hungry,” like a Neanderthal. Then adds, “want a sandwich?” Because Steve has to be hungry after spending all that time in the water.

“Please,” Steve sighs, and leans back on his towel. God, he’s so fucking hot.

So Eddie grabs them their sandwiches from the cooler, and Steve drinks the rest of Eddie’s red Gatorade, and when they leave the lake that evening, no part of Eddie’s skin is harmed.

3.

Eddie’s still getting used to the whole cuddling after sex thing. He’s normally the type of guy who likes his own space. Too much skin on skin when the threat of climax isn’t immediately on his mind is normally overwhelming in a solidly bad way. But he’s starting to understand why people like this schmoopy garbage so much. Because with the right person, it’s unfortunately pretty fucking lovely, and apparently, Steve is the right guy for him.

Steve likes holding him close, gets their legs all tangled together, then rubs his knees against each other like some content little cricket, before kissing him right on his hairline. It’s so fucking sappy and his traitorous little heart preens .

“Good?” Steve asks, and there’s already an edge of sleep to his voice.

“Sorry, was I not loud enough, before? Was the-” and he imitates his own voice, a breathy Steve Steve Steve gasping out of his lips that makes Steve go a bright crimson.

“You know what I meant -”

“Sorry sweetheart,” Eddie says, because he’s a teasing asshole, “I absolutely do not - because if that wasn’t loud enough, we can always work on my volume-” and Eddie normally hates being interrupted, because it’s normally by people who get bored of whatever he was in the middle of saying- but he’s okay when Steve does it. Because Steve always cares what he has to say. He just sometimes cares what Eddie’s lips feel like more, and if there is ever a time Eddie would prefer to talk than kiss Steve Harrington, he deserves death by firing squad.

So then they kiss some more, and Eddie can’t remember the last time he kissed someone like this without the possibility of more. Thinks, maybe, that this is the first time.

Steve’s hand folds into his, squeezes, because he’s a sap who likes to hold hands while they’re pressed together like this, and Eddie squeezes back. Steve makes a pleased little noise in the back of his throat before pulling away. His gaze hardens a bit as he focuses, and he uses his free hand to cup Eddie’s face.

“I need to ask you something,” Steve says, and a horrible whoosh sweeps through every one of Eddie’s internal organs.

A beat of tense silence freezes between them. “Okay,” Eddie croaks, eventually, and he can feel his hands go staticky.

“It’s nothing bad-” Steve clarifies, then seems to fold in on himself. “At least- I really hope it’s nothing bad.” 

Steve trails off, and that horrible whoosh goes through Eddie again. “Spit it out, Harrington.” Eddie says, and he hears it in a distant way, the way his voice goes all cold and hard and affectionless, a voice he’s not sure he’s ever used with Steve before.

“It’s nothing bad ,” Steve repeats, but he kinda looks like he wants to vomit, so Eddie’s not sure how it could be anything but bad, “I just- I know that this is all new for you. The last thing I want is for- us - to be a source of stress for you, but…” and he trails off, and Eddie thinks he should maybe get a bucket or something, or at least get out of the line of fire, “I just, I like you, Eddie. So much. And I know we agreed to not see anyone else, but we haven’t put a label on it outside of that, and I want to be able to call you my boyfriend.” And then he hesitates before adding, “and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Eddie realizes he should’ve been expecting this. Maybe should’ve prepared himself a little bit more for this inevitable conversation, but it seemed so far away. 

“Oh.” Steve repeats, and he’s still looking pretty green around the gills. “That’s it?”

“Just- give me a second,” Eddie says, and squeezes Steve’s hand so he knows he’s still with him, and some of the color returns to Steve’s cheeks. Eddie feels less like he’s in the line of fire.

But does he want this? A commitment ? It makes his mouth go dry, honestly. He can feel his chest constrict at the very idea, but it also makes his stomach go all fluttery. Makes him fantasize, briefly, of many more moments of post-sex cuddles. 

It’s a confusing set of sensations.

A better question, though, is if he thinks he’ll eventually break Steve Harrington’s heart. If by saying yes he’s setting them up for Eddie inevitably fucking all this up and Steve being the one who gets hurt. Eddie doesn’t think he’d be able to live with himself, if that happened.

But Steve asked him , didn’t he? And asked because Steve likes him, likes him so much , apparently. So he must trust Eddie, on some level, not to smash it all to smithereens. Trusts him with all the precious, breakable little parts of him, trusts him to hold them close and keep them safe. Which actually isn’t nearly as daunting of an idea as it would’ve been three months ago. Eddie’s never been good with breakable things, but he thinks, for Steve, he could be.

But he can’t just say yes, or, I want to be boyfriends too, like a normal person. So instead he says, “you’re already getting the milk for free, Stevie, but I’ll let you buy the cow, if you really want it.”

A confused, delighted little laugh bubbles out of Steve. “I’m assuming you're the cow in this scenario?”

“It sounded better in my head.”

Steve’s grin deepens, and he swipes a thumb across Eddie’s cheek. “I’d buy you any day, baby.” He whispers, and tilts forward so their foreheads touch. “ Boyfriend.” He amends.

Boyfriend- it still makes his fingers go staticky, but god, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so warm. 

“ Boyfriend ,” he whispers back.

Chapter Text

4.

“Okay, time for water,” Steve says, and his fingers press deeper into Eddie’s side as they walk down his pristine hallway. 

God, how had Eddie never noticed how much breakable shit Steve has lying around his house? Fucking, glass tables and enormous, empty ceramic vases on the floor. It’s a very treacherous path, and he tells Steve such. 

“Yes, very treacherous,” Steve agrees, and he’s pulled into Steve’s side a little more securely. “So don’t touch anything, alright?”

“I’m very bad at that,” Eddie says, which makes Steve laugh, and Eddie can’t help but giggle along.

“Why are you laughing?” Steve asks, grinning, and Eddie wonders how someone can always be so attractive.

“Because you’re laughing,” he says, and he only stumbles a little over the entryway to the kitchen. 

Steve shakes his head, smile still wide, and guides him over to the sink. “Stay.” He instructs, when he leans Eddie against the counter.

“Easy peasy, sweetheart.” Eddie says, and even kicks a leg up to show how effortless it is. 

“ Please- “ Steve begins, and he pushes Eddie’s leg back down. “I really don’t want to have to take you to the ER for stitches.” 

“I’m so good, babe, you don’t even know.” 

Steve looks unimpressed, but eventually he turns around again, mumbling, “who would’ve thought Jeff would be the bad influence?”

Which, not fair. Jeff is perfect. “Jeff is perfect, ” Eddie says, defiantly, and Steve raises his eyebrows as he fills up a glass from the tap.

“Perfect, huh?” Steve asks, and he has that teasing little smile on his face. 

“ Perfect ,” Eddie says, doubling down. “Just because everyone can’t have a-“ and he does an impeccable imitation of Robin squealing platonic soulmate with a capital ‘p’! “-doesn’t mean I can’t have a perfect best friend.”

He takes the water Steve puts in front of him. Shit , it’s good. He feels some of it dribble down his chin and onto his chest. 

“Just, drink your water, babe,” Steve mumbles, which means Eddie’s won this round.

When Eddie’s done, Steve fills up the cup and hands it to him again.

He smacks his lips together when the second glass is downed, and he has enough wherewithal to be grateful. “Thanks, Stevie.” He says, and Steve shakes his head again. 

“Let’s just get you to bed, sunshine.” Steve says, and he has that calm, soft smile on his face that Eddie loves so much. He kind of wants to bottle it up and keep it on a chain around his neck for the rest of his life. Instead, he does the next best thing, which is paw at it with his free hand.

“Your hands are so clammy , Jesus-” Steve complains, which makes Eddie giggle again, and he only drops the act when Steve pulls away to lead them upstairs. 

They get to the plaid monstrosity that is Steve’s bedroom, and Eddie starts fumbling with the buckle on his belt.

“Oooh, trying to seduce me, big boy?” He asks, obnoxiously, when Steve swats his hands away to do it himself.

“I don’t need to try anymore, lover boy .” Steve says through a grin, which, touché.

Eddie wriggles out of his leather jacket-jean-jacket-flannel-t-shirt combo and throws it onto Steve’s floor, then uses his boyfriend’s shoulder for balance as he steps out of his jeans.

“Think you can dress yourself?” Steve asks, grabbing Eddie’s clothes. “I’m throwing these in the wash.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, which makes the room spin a bit. “Babe, I’m drunk, not an invalid.” Steve just smacks a kiss onto the top of his head and walks out of the room.

Eddie rifles through Steve’s clothes. He forgoes the shirts that are his, opting for one of Steve’s many sweatshirts. He changes into a pair of Steve’s boxers and leaves his own on the floor.

Not for the first time, Eddie thanks whatever god blessed him with a rich boyfriend, one with an en-suite bathroom, because having a sink ten feet from your bed when your house is above four thousand square feet is, frankly, the height of luxury. 

He uses one of the fancy, silky hair ties Steve bought him to tie up his hair, in that ridiculous bun that makes him look like a pineapple that Steve calls protective , and uses the blue toothbrush Steve bought him to get the taste of beer and vodka out of his mouth. 

So it’s then, watching himself brush his teeth in Steve’s bathroom, in Steve’s clothes, his hair done up in that ridiculous pink hair tie, that Eddie gets a little overwhelmed. 

Oh , he thinks, because it's all just so nice. And maybe Wayne’d call him emotionally constipated, because it’s all hitting him when he’s inebriated, but he starts crying. Crying big, fat, ugly tears about his boyfriend that cares about him so much, so much that he carries him home when he’s drunk and gives him water so he isn’t hungover and lets Eddie wear his clothes and buys him special hair ties so his hair doesn’t have breakage - and Eddie watches his tears, in Steve’s giant, shiny mirror, drip down his cheeks, and watches the foam of the toothpaste bubble out of his mouth. 

It’s almost funny how pathetic he looks.

Then he hears Steve come back into his bedroom. He rifles through his clothes for something to change into, so Eddie spits and tries to make it look like he hadn’t been crying stupid, gigantic tears. 

He nearly succeeds. His eyes are only red enough to be easily passed off by the joint he’d shared with Gareth earlier that evening, but then Steve, perfect Steve with his perfect, wonderful everything, comes into the bathroom wearing his Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow shirt, and Eddie gets overwhelmed all over again.

“ Eddie?” And Steve’s arms are around him in a moment, long and lean and strong and pulling his pathetic wails into his chest. “What happened?”

There’s that note of panic in his voice, the one that will always be there, for all of them, whenever something like this happens, so Eddie manages to hiccup out a nonsensical, “you’re wearing my shirt,” so Steve doesn’t think he just saw something supremely fucked up. 

“I can change!” Steve says, frantically, but Eddie just clings a little tighter to him and manages a solid shake of his head. 

“That’s not-“ he sniffs, and he tries to regulate his breathing, because really , get it together , Munson, “it’s not just the shirt.”

“What’s not just the shirt?” And now Steve sounds a little panicked for another reason, and Eddie is such a mess .

“I just-” he mumbles, and leans back to wipe his nose on the back of his wrist. “I like you so much. And you like me. And I just,” he bites his cheek. “I just never thought this would be for me. And it all hit me… all at once.”

Steve pulls him back into his chest. Hushes him, when Eddie says he’s all snotty. Kisses his temple again, right where he knows Eddie likes to be kissed. He runs his open palms over Eddie’s back, slowly, deliberately, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever felt more comforted by anything in his entire life. 

When Eddie’s breaths are even again, Steve asks, “any more tears left?”

Eddie sighs. “Show’s over, I think.” He feels Steve smile into the top of his head. Feels a kiss there, too.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Eddie shrugs. “I think my cold, shriveled little heart couldn’t cope with you being so nice to me all the time.”

Steve hums. “Your shriveled little heart is gonna have to learn to deal.”

Eddie snorts, and clings a little tighter to his boyfriend. “It’ll get used to it.”

After graduating, Eddie, of course, had to pass leadership of Hellfire along. It broke his heart a little, maybe a lot more than a little, but he recognized that Hellfire had been under his reign for long enough. It had been time to pass on the torch.

This week is different, though. Gareth is out of town for his sister’s college graduation in Ohio, and Lucas had practically begged him to DM a one-shot so they could still have a session that week. 

By ‘begging’ does he mean Lucas asked him once and Eddie immediately jumped at the chance?

Perhaps.

But that’s neither here nor there, because Eddie needs it to be perfect . He hasn’t DM’ed in over a year, now, Jeff being the DM of their other campaign, and Eddie is a little nervous that he’s rusty. Because maybe this one-shot won’t live up to the kids’ memories of ‘86. So Eddie’d thrown himself into the planning a little more than he normally did. And Eddie’s ‘normal’ amount is already a little insane. 

Wayne had always called him a workaholic with everything but the important shit , which seemed to equally please and irritate him. 

It’s just that when Eddie got something in his head, he couldn’t stop until it was all out. It was impossible to focus on anything else. That, and the fact that Eddie was terrified that if he didn’t strike while the iron (his brain) was hot, then it’d all escape from him, never to be heard from again. And right now, he is hot. Goddamn volcanic eruption hot.  

He just knows Dustin is going to lose his absolute mind when tomorrow finally rolls around, and how could he have ever doubted himself? He is a goddamn Dungeons and Dragons genius - 

Wayne walks in front of him, snapping his fingers. Eddie takes off his headphones.

“What?”

“Your alarms goin’ off, son,” Wayne says.

And he finally hears it, from his bedroom, the solid beeping of the alarm he’d set five hours ago.

His alarm to pick up Steve from work, because his car is at the garage this week.

Steve, who’d expressed to him in such confidence how his parents hadn’t been there for him growing up. How they forgot birthdays and holidays and barely checked in after Vecna and the ‘earthquakes’. How afraid he is, now, of being forgotten.

And Eddie forgot.

Wayne must see the color drain from Eddie’s face because he asks, “Eddie?” with that soft tone he’d picked up after Eddie’d almost bitten the dust.

“I was supposed to pick up Steve,” he blurts, and grabs for Wayne’s watch. “What time is it?”

7:26 p.m.

“ Shit,” he whispers, even though Wayne hates it when he curses. He’s 26 minutes late and he hasn’t even left.

Before Wayne can even reprimand him with a stern, “ language ”, Eddie’s halfway to his room for his keys and shoes. And maybe to turn off his goddamn alarm clock.

What the hell had he been thinking, listening to his music like that? He didn’t even hear Wayne come back into the trailer, let alone his alarm clock that was in another room.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid ,” Eddie mutters to himself, doing his best to tie his shoes and get back to the front door at the same time.

“No use to anyone as roadkill, boy, stick to the speed limit,” Wayne shouts, smearing a thick glob of miracle whip across a slice of bread as Eddie tears past him.

“Always do, Wayne!” Eddie shouts back, and he lets the screen door slam behind him.

When he get to the van, he thinks, for a moment, about braining himself on his steering wheel instead of confronting this situation of his own making. It would probably be much less painful. But then he thinks about Steve, probably still waiting for him in front of Family Video, and he starts the van.

His thoughts spiral a bit when he finally gets on the road. Steve had told him, explicitly, how much his parents being away affected him. How he still remembers them not being home for his eleventh birthday, not because they couldn’t be, but because they forgot. How scared he is, now, of being forgettable. And Eddie had gone and lost track of time and forgotten him. All because he was working on a one-shot to impress some literal children. 

He thinks, again, about braining himself on his steering wheel.

Then he thinks about how this could be his last moments as Steve Harrington’s boyfriend, and how he would deserve it. That just about takes all the wind out of him. He can’t imagine going back to his pre-Steve life. Steve, who had turned his life inside out in the best way possible. Who’d shown him how wonderful a monogamous relationship could be. Who’d, in turn, ruined him for all other relationships.

What would he do, if Steve broke up with him? He thinks about it, for a moment. He thinks about what Steve would say to him when he’d do it. Steve would probably cry, he thinks, and the thought alone brings tears of his own to Eddie’s eyes. Steve would probably be so nice about it, too, even though Eddie had been the one to hurt him. He would still be so nice, not wanting to hurt Eddie the way he’d hurt him.

Eddie’s thoughts don’t become more productive as the drive goes on.

In the end, it turns out Steve had started walking home. Eddie nearly misses him entirely, not paying attention to the lone figure on the side of the deserted Hawkins street. But Eddie would recognize that hair anywhere.

His tires give a comical screech when he breaks, and he thinks distantly of Wayne telling him to stick to the speed limit.

He’s barely in park before he’s out of the van, a frantic “ I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” is tumbling out of his mouth, borderline nonsensically, tongue tied around his dam of apologies.

Eddie runs up to him, and, conscious of the fact they’re where anyone could see them, stays an arm’s length away. “I’m so sorry,” Eddie repeats one last time, “I was wearing my headphones, I didn’t hear my alarm, Stevie, I was being an idiot.” He takes an embarrassingly large breath, winded from his 50 foot sprint to his boyfriend, who is currently looking at him with wide eyes. “I promise, I had an alarm set and everything and it will never happen again, I swear, I’ll buy one of those alarms deaf people have with the-” and he vibrates his arms, mimicking the device his grandma’s used since ‘79. “My grandma has one, I’ll write to her and see where she got it so Deep Purple will never get in between us again, or, better, I can just- just stop listening to music so loudly, Wayne always said it’s gonna make my hearing go one of these days and if Corroded Coffin’s ever gonna make it big I’m actually going to need to do that anyways so-”

“Eddie,” Steve interrupts him. He’s smiling a little. Eddie doesn’t know what that means. “Let’s just get into the van, okay?”

“O-okay,” Eddie stutters, and Steve is unnervingly silent on the short walk back to the van.

Eddie slams the door behind him and has to crawl over to the passenger side to unlock Steve’s door.

Eddie turns down his Overkill tape. “See? Starting right now,” Eddie jokes, and he wonders if it fell flat only to him.

Steve’s smile is still on his face. “Babe, listen to your music as loud as you want, maybe just not when my car’s in the shop? Please?”

His tone is light, which Eddie doesn’t understand. Is this what an angry Steve is like?

“I- yes, definitely.” Eddie manages, and Steve’s lips quirk further.

“Perfect.” Steve sighs and reaches to take Eddie’s hand. “Well, if you forgot to pick me up, then I’m guessing you haven’t eaten yet, either, so how about we get some burgers, or something? ‘M starving and I really don’t feel like making anything.” He says, so casually, leans back into his seat.

Eddie blinks stupidly at him. “Burgers.” He repeats.

Steve looks over at him. “If you’ve eaten, that’s fine. We also don’t have to do burgers, if you want something else.” Steve’s brows furrow when he sees the expression on Eddie’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I-” Eddie was so prepared for a blowout- he’d messed up, he did what Steve told him he was terrified of - and now he’s asking if Eddie wants burgers? Is this how relationships work? Does Steve need fuel, or something, for their inevitable argument? “Aren’t you angry?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, being left on the curb of Family Video doesn’t feel great, and I might have mentally cursed you and your attention span but-” he shrugs, and he’s still smiling, “you’re cute, so I accept your apology.”

Eddie feels his jaw go slack. “I messed up, though.”

Steve gives him a questioning look. “Okay? And?”

Eddie can’t help the strangled noise he makes. “I did what you said you were so afraid of-” and Eddie can barely get the words out of his mouth. “I- I forgot.”

Steve’s expression softens. “Hey,” he says, and he squeezes Eddie’s hand. He has such nice hands. “You’re not my parents, right?”

It takes Eddie a moment to catch up. “Right,” and it comes out questioningly.

“I know that, too, baby. I don’t compare you to them.”

“Oh.” Eddie lets out a heavy breath. His mind is spinning a little. This is not a path he thought his night could take. He lets out an embarrassed laugh. “I thought you were going to break up with me.”

Steve’s smile disappears at that. “Why would you think I would break up with you over something so small?”

“Oh, I don’t-” Eddie doesn’t know what to say. Was this something small? “It didn’t feel small,” he says.

Steve stares at him for a beat in silence. 

When he finally speaks, it sounds a little croaky. “Eddie, listen to me. I care about you way more than you being late to pick me up, okay?” He squeezes Eddie’s hand again. “Right now, I can’t think of anything you could do that would make me want to break up with you. Short of, cheating, I guess.”

“I would never- ” Eddie responds hotly, and Steve interrupts with a soft, “I know.”

So then they sit like that for a moment, Wrecking Crew playing softly through the speakers. A car passes, which makes them both jump. 

“Take me to the trailer?” Steve asks, and Eddie does without comment, turning the van around without letting go of Steve’s hand.

Eddie still feels a little awkward when they get back to the trailer, Wayne watching a rerun of M.A.S.H. in the main room.

“‘Lo Steve,” Wayne says, not even looking up.

“Hi, Mr. Munson,” Steve says, always so formal.

“What’d I say about that?”

Steve cracks a grin. “Sorry, sir. I can never seem to remember your first name.”

God, he’s so lame. That wasn’t even funny-

But he hears Wayne laugh, a smoker’s laugh, all wheezy and crackly. Wayne looks away from the TV to give Steve a smile. “I reckon you’re lying, boy, but I’ll let it slide, this time.” He turns back to the TV.

This is normally the part where Eddie would tease them, say something disparaging about the two former jocks bonding, and then Steve and Wayne would make eye contact in that way that always makes Eddie feel all gooey on the inside. But, tonight, Eddie wordlessly heads to his room, and Steve follows close behind.

Eddie sits on his bed as Steve changes, immediately stripping out of his jeans and vest in favor of Eddie’s sweats and t-shirt.

Steve sits next to him and takes his hand again. “Eddie.” he says.

Eddie looks up at him.

Steve uses his other hand to cup his face. His hands are always so warm, unlike his own, which are consistently freezing. “Maybe I should’ve been clearer about this earlier. But what we have is really good, sunshine. This type of thing doesn’t end just because you were late picking me up.”

Eddie whines, high in the back of his throat. “But it wasn’t just that I was late, it’s because you told me you’re scared of being forgotten, you trusted me with that, and I still forgot you.”

Steve hushes him. “I already said. I don’t compare you to my parents. Eddie, baby, you’re on a completely different planet from them.” Steve smiles. “A whole other galaxy. You forgetting isn’t like them forgetting.”

That does make him feel marginally better, just as another, worse thought occurs to him. “But Steve, what if next time, next time it’s worse? What if I really hurt you?” He’s getting a little emotional just thinking about it, all the ways Steve’s let him in and all the ways Eddie could exploit that, even unintentionally. 

“Eddie,” Steve sighs, and he shakes his head. “You won’t. I know you won’t.”

“But what if I do ?” he curses how easy of a crier he is. The thought comes to him that Jeff would blame his pisces moon, and he tries to refocus. “Stevie, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you.”

“Okay,” Steve says, and he’s using his serious voice, the one he uses when the kids are being especially obnoxious- “even if , even if you hurt me- which, for the record, I don’t believe you ever would, not to the extent you think you’re capable of- it would be worth it.” Steve drops his hand to rest on the side of Eddie’s neck. “If our relationship ends with me being brokenhearted, I wouldn’t regret us for a second. You make me so happy, sunshine. I consent, okay? If one day, you hypothetically break my heart, I would still want to have you right now, the way I do.” 

Eddie really wants to cry. He holds it back, though, because he wants Steve to know he understands. He nods vigorously, and when he trusts his voice again, says, “how do you always know the right thing to say?”

Steve kisses him on the lips, then on the temple, and pulls away. “I trust you. You do know that, right?”

Eddie nods. He knows, yes, that for better or for worse, Steve trusts him. “I know.” Steve pulls him into a hug.

They sit like that for a minute, until Eddie remembers what Steve said earlier. “Want me to make us dinner?”

+1. 

Sometimes Eddie thinks of the person he was a year ago. He remembers the sweaty bars, the sticky hookups, the faceless men, and wonders how he ever thought that’s where he found happiness. 

Because, now, he and Steve are like, life partners, or some such shit. As corny as that sounds. Eddie’s never really been one for labels, but he’s fully on board with Property of Eddie Munson getting tattooed all over his boyfriend. And vice versa.

Eddie’s under no delusions that this has been a smooth ride. Sometimes he wonders how Steve put up with him, in the beginning, when even the thought of exclusivity made his hackles rise. But every time he’d asked, Steve just said it was as easy as breathing. Which still does things to him, the cheesy bastard.

So Steve fell first, but damn did Eddie fall hard.

He’s in love with Steve. He knows he is. He can’t imagine what else this emotion could be, welling up inside him at every moment of the day. Steve doesn’t even need to be near him, Eddie doesn’t even need to be thinking about him, it’s just the ever-present peace that swirls through him. Because as long as he’s got Steve, nothing can really be that bad.

The thing is, they just haven’t said it to each other yet. Not in words, at least. Steve says it in everything he does, everyday. Eddie feels it in every kiss, in every brush of fingers, in every look Steve gives him. Because even when Steve gets mad with him, Eddie still feels it. That bone-deep sense of security that they can piss each other off and still come back to each other, every time. So Steve’s said it to him, just not out loud. And Eddie hopes Steve feels it in what he does, too. But lately he’s been thinking that he wants to say it. Out loud. Just so he knows that Steve knows. It would make him feel better.

It’s just that he’s a little nervous. Which he recognizes as ridiculous, but Steve’s been the one to initiate every big step of their relationship. Steve’s the one who asked him out, Steve’s the one who made them official, Steve’s the one who asked to meet Wayne, and Steve’s the one who’d guided them through every other first little whatever. Which was probably unfair on Eddie’s end. He recognizes, now, how much work that probably was for him.

So it’s the least Eddie can do to say I love you, first. Unfortunately, though, at his core, Eddie is a dorky, nerdy fool, and he just really wants this to not be dorky and nerdy and foolish. He wants it to be perfect. He wants to woo Steve Harrington back.

It’s what he deserves.

Problem is, they’re still in Hawkins. If Eddie had free reign, he’d like, take Steve to the Superbowl, or something, and have it blown up on all the giant screens in rainbow letters: Steve Harrington, I love you! 

But he can’t do that. Thankfully, though, he has one Robin Buckley to help him with the next best thing.

“Camp crystal lake,” Steve guesses, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Yes,” he deadpans. “I’m taking you to camp crystal lake. Vecna couldn’t get us, so I thought we’d take our chances with Jason’s mom.”

Steve hums. “Cuesta Verde?”

“Do you exclusively think I’d take you to the settings of horror movies?”

“Do I honestly think you’d find that romantic?” 

Eddie snorts. “Touché.”

Thankfully, the 45 minute drive is actually quite pretty once they get out of Hawkins, and the sun is low in the sky by the time they pull into the gravel driveway.

“I'm 80% sure this is it,” Eddie mumbles, valiantly trying to read the faded house number.

“So, that leaves a 20% chance for us to be hate-crimed?”

Eddie hushes him, “I’d protect you, sweetheart.”

Eventually, the sun bleached 2760 is legible, and Eddie follows the last of Robin’s scribbled directions to the back of the property.

“Surprise!” Eddie cheers, when they pull around to the small pond. He doesn’t wait for Steve to reply, nerves already biting at him, and instead leaps out to unload the back of the van. 

He grabs the small wicker basket, the red and white checkered blanket, and walks over to the small piece of mowed grass between the pond and a patch of wildflowers.

The place is just as pretty as Robin described, and he only feels mildly nauseous when Steve joins him on the worn blanket.

“It’s beautiful here,” Steve murmurs, glaze flicking over the water, already reflecting the lightning bug’s vibrant glow. “Where are we?”

“Robin’s uncle’s,” Eddie says, smiling sheepishly. “They’re out of town this week, apparently.”

Steve scoots a little closer to him, and their knees touch. “And this is all just for no reason in particular?”

“Correct,” Eddie agrees, and he tries to stamp down some of his panic as he empties the picnic basket.

Chocolate covered strawberries, wine, and cheese and crackers was his plan, but as he takes out the containers, he realizes the chocolate has melted off the fruit and the wine bottle has crushed the crackers into a crumbly powder. 

His heart kinda falls when he sees it. An apology is at the tip of his tongue, because goddamn, he can’t even pack a picnic basket correctly, but Steve just grabs a strawberry, swiping it through the gooey chocolate, and holds it up for Eddie to take a bite.

It’s nice, being somewhere together that isn’t Steve’s house or Eddie’s trailer. He breathes in the air, warm, still, even though September has now begun, and Steve rests his head in Eddie’s lap, a silent request to play with his hair.

So Eddie does, fingers combing through the soft strands, and Steve curls into his lap a little more.

He should say it now. He has it all written out, line by line, what he wants to say. Because there are so many reasons he loves Steve, and he didn’t want to forget a single one.

But it seems a little contrived, now, to read it off the sheet of paper that is currently shoved in his back pocket. Maybe he should just wing it. Let all that drama kid energy be put to good use. Maybe finally channel the Shakespeare he had to read over and over again.

“I maybe had an ulterior motive bringing you here,” Eddie mumbles, and he feels Steve’s smile against his leg. 

“Really? Never would’ve guessed.” Steve stays in his lap, which is maybe a good thing. Eye contact probably would’ve made his nerves worse.

“I had this whole speech planned out. I even forced Robin to help me with it, but that seems a little ridiculous now.” Eddie takes a deep breath. “I didn’t really believe in love before we met. At least, not for me. Wayne’s really the only one who ever has, and I just thought he was an anomaly, you know?” He feels Steve shift but he keeps his hand in his hair, so Steve stays where he is. “I just always thought I was too much, or not enough, and that I would mess up whatever relationship I’d ever be in. So I think I convinced myself that I didn’t want it at all.” He pauses as a fish splashes in the pond in front of them, and the noise of the cicadas fills the air. 

“I thought being bitter and untouchable was better, because the thought of someone caring about me made me want to hurl,” he whispers, and he hopes it’s loud enough that Steve can hear. He’s not sure if he can speak this any louder. “But you changed all of that, Steve. I’m not sure what peace is supposed to feel like, but I’m pretty sure I feel it with you.”

This time, when Steve tries to sit up, Eddie lets him. 

“I love you,” he says, right to Steve’s face. 

Steve’s face freezes for a moment. “You love me?” He whispers back, like he’s not sure he heard Eddie right. 

“Sweetheart, I love you so much,” he says, and takes Steve’s hand. “You’re like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Which, is maybe not completely true. Wayne’s probably the best thing, but Steve’s such a close second it doesn’t feel like a lie.

“Oh,” Steve whispers, and he just kind of sits there for a moment, staring at him. 

“Um, yes. So that’s. That’s why I wanted to bring you here. I was trying to be romantic, and all. I wanted it to be special, when I told you.” Eddie says, and Steve’s face goes all watery.

“You wanted it to be special,” Steve repeats, and Eddie’s a little worried he broke him.

“Yes?” He confirms, like a question.

“You love me,” Steve says again, but this time he says it like an affirmation.

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand. “You don’t have to say it back,” he whispers quickly. “Because I know you do.”

Steve nods. “I do. So much.”

The sound of cicadas swallows them again, but it feels like peace now. Like Eddie’s right where he’s supposed to be.

“I have trouble saying it,” Steve whispers, and Eddie looks over to the sadness on his face. “Out loud. But that doesn’t mean I don’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie affirms. “You never have to say it,” Eddie whispers back. “I know.” Steve takes a deep, comforting breath, closing his eyes when he does. 

Steve lets it out, and opens his eyes again. He doesn’t look so sad anymore. “You’re kind of the best thing that’s happened to me, too.”

A year ago, that would’ve made him ill, he thinks, as his chest heats with the confession. “I love you,” he repeats, because he can, and because it feels as easy as breathing, now.

Eddie leans back on the blanket, and when he holds his arms out invitingly, Steve is quick to collapse into him.

Steve tangles their legs together, and twists up to kiss Eddie’s temple before lying back down to rest on his shoulder.

Something splashes in the water, and the crickets and the cicadas continue their performance, and the lightning bugs wink above them, and Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair. 

“I love you,” he says again, because he does. So, so much. 

Fuck the Munson Doctrine. Steve’s so much better.

Steve rubs his knees together, and Eddie calls him a cricket, and Steve laughs like he hasn’t heard that joke a million times. 

It sounds a lot like I love you, too.