Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Dude, I can hear you moping from over here,” came Dustin’s voice from the kitchen.

Steve pouted for a moment more before he heard Dustin’s traitorous footsteps approaching, immediately schooling his features into something artfully casual. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man, I’m not moping,” he said with a shrug. “It’s cute, that you think I’d be bothered by any of this.”

He waved at the growing number of boxes laid out on the floor of their shared apartment. Soon to be shared-no-longer. Steve had been counting down the days until Dustin abandoned him with an almost permanent scowl; he was going to have to send the other man the invoice for the Botox he’d end up needing. 

Steve hated goodbyes. There was no way that Dustin didn’t know that, and yet he’d still continued with his plan to leave. It was a kick in the teeth, is what it was, and the kid didn’t even have the gall to apologise for it. 

There was a soft thump as Dustin dropped another box onto the growing pile near the door, his scrawl of ‘Kitchen Appliances’ along the side barely legible. He looked over to Steve with a wry smile. “Uh huh,” he said, in that goddamn smug little voice of his. “Well, you’ve been filling that same box for the past forty minutes. It’s okay to cry, you know?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Steve scoffed, scowling at the way Dustin snickered. He tightened his hold on the books in his hands. “Maybe I’m just making sure you’re not stealing any of my shit,” he grumbled.

“Steve,” Dustin sighed, “all you own are skincare products and weights. Nobody wants to steal those, least of all me. Besides, I’m going to be a twenty-minute walk away, if I need anything I can just come back.” He sent Steve a smile. “That way you’ll still see me.”

“Who said I wanted to see you?” Steve huffed. It was pointless, really—they’d been rehashing the same argument for the last six weeks, veiled under increasingly thin layers of sarcasm. Ever since Dustin had confessed his grand scheme. 

“I need my own space,” the other man carried on as he lowered himself to the floor next to Steve and set about constructing another box. “I’m not like you.”

From the corner of the room the joint playlist they usually reserved for battle-esque cleaning sessions switched from Dustin’s new-wave techno to Steve’s Billboard pop. Steve let his eyes follow the deft movements of Dustin’s hands. “So, you’re not, like, bored of me or whatever?” he said.

The hands stilled and Dustin rolled his eyes, sending Steve a too-soft smile. Right. Stupid question. “You think I would have stuck around for four years already if that was the case? You know I don’t have that kind of patience.” He sucked in a breath and cocked his head as he reached for the packing tape. “Got bored of all the sportsball, maybe.”

“Hey, it’s culture,” Steve rebuked, failing to hide a smile. If he wasn’t mistaken, Dustin had been yelling at the T.V. just as loudly as Steve at the last game the two of them had watched.

“Whatever you say.” 

The room fell silent for a moment. Steve bit his lip. Now would be a good time, before the others got here and made a huge deal of it. “I got you something,” he said, lightly. He flattened himself to the floor to drag the atrociously wrapped box out from behind the couch. Spotting Dustin’s surprised smile, he shrugged and rubbed at his jaw. “You know, to remember me by.” 

Watching while Dustin took the parcel from him and undid the uneven bow, Steve tucked his hands under his arms and leant close. This was what he’d been waiting for; the look on Dustin’s face, it was always the best part. He did not disappoint.

“Steve.”

Lifting the packaging from the box, his eyes were lit up, so that Steve could almost see the ‘PS5’ logo reflected in them. 

“I figured it would give me a reason to visit, right?” Steve said, carefully casual.

“You didn’t - This is too much, really,” Dustin breathed, clutching the console close to his chest. “Thank you. I mean, I’m keeping it, but it’s too much. Seriously, though, you can come over anytime. I want you to.”

“Yeah, alright, man, it’s just a console.”

Dustin looked like he wanted to say something more, before his watch chimed at him. “Oh, shit,” he said, setting the package down on the table with care. “We need to pick up the pace. Nancy and Vickie are on their way.” The mountain of miscellaneous still-to-be-sorted things loomed over them still and Dustin stood up, heading towards it, though not before pausing to lean down and ruffle Steve’s hair. “Thank you.”

Whacking his hand away, Steve let out a groan before mellowing. “You’re welcome,” he said, then, more loudly, “I can’t believe Eddie got out of this.” 

“Yeah, well, I only gave in because he looked like he was on the verge of tears when I called him.” 

“Eddie?” Steve scoffed, turning his whole body to frown at Dustin. “Eddie doesn’t cry. He doesn’t have tear ducts.” 

Dustin smirked, weighing up a bronze ornamental elephant in his hands. “You’re right, what was I thinking?” he drawled. “He did look tired though. I reckon he might actually murder someone if he’s asked to pick up any more shifts. This is yours, right?” He held the elephant out.

“Yeah, that Daphne girl bought it for me.”

“Oh, God, yeah.” Dustin grimaced. “You know what, I’m taking it. I like elephants. She was such a bitch, though, I’m glad you dumped her. I think she was the one who once told me she thought I was brave for not wearing veneers.”

Steve hummed. “Sounds right. She had great nails. He should quit.”

Setting the elephant on its side in his box, Dustin sighed. He shuffled over to Steve on his knees and plucked free the books still in his hands. “He can’t quit, he needs money. You know,” he pulled a face, eyes wide, “to exchange for goods and services.”

“I can give him money,” Steve replied, ignoring the sarcasm. He heard Dustin’s laugh as the other man closed up the box and reached for the tape once more. “What? I’ve got enough to go around.”

“I know you do, Steve, you just bought me a six-hundred dollar games console like it was nothing. Hold this shut.” Steve pressed down on the cardboard as Dustin sealed it together. “You think he’d be up for that?” the other man teased. “Being your sugar baby?”

Just as Steve was about to respond that Dustin was never allowed to say the phrase ‘sugar baby’ in his vicinity again, the apartment door swung open and Vickie stepped through, grin taking up half of her face. “Steve has a sugar baby? Where do I sign up?” She winked at Steve, who groaned and rolled his eyes. 

Behind her, Nancy shuffled in and closed the door, and—oh, Christ —she was wearing it again, after Steve specifically -

“Nance!” Steve barked, causing the new arrival to jump. “I thought I’d told you to get rid of that monstrosity?” He waved his hand at the shapeless lilac jacket that fell across Nancy’s shoulders, uneven and lumpy. 

Nancy blinked at him. “And ‘Hello’ to you, too, Steve.”

Ignoring Dustin and Vickie’s chuckles, Steve thinned his lips. “Sorry,” he said, voice thin. “I mean, ‘Hello Nancy, lovely to see you again. Why have you not sent that jacket back to hell, where it belongs?’” He whined. “It washes you out, I’ve already told you that!”

“I like it,” Nancy defended, pulling the offending piece closer. “It’s comfortable.” She waved at Dustin. “Hey, Dustin. Car’s ready out front. Where’d you want us to start?”

*

Moving Dustin took the rest of the afternoon, with several trips in Nancy’s sensible sedan. Nancy herself seemed to be in an all-but euphoric mood, something which Steve revelled in. A joyous Nancy was almost as chaotic as a drunk Nancy, a sight normally only reserved for birthdays or New Year’s, or—most memorably—last July fourth, when he and Nancy had been left to celebrate by themselves. The hallway wall still bore the scars.

“Why are you so happy, huh?” Dustin asked, wiping sweat from his hairline and dropping down onto the couch for a break. His cheeks were red and shining. Steve threw his flask of water towards him, hitting the back of the couch with a thud.

The new apartment was gorgeous, Steve could finally let himself admit. You could even see the lake from between the other buildings, light twinkling off the surface. Dustin would be happy here for sure. 

“Nothing in particular,” Nancy shrugged. 

“Lies!” Vickie shouted from where she was attempting to plug in a microwave. “All lies, she’s got a crush on the new Starbucks barista next to her office.”

“Nance Wheeler,” Dustin gasped. He set his sights on Vickie, who was surfacing for air. “Who? Name, age? I need details!” 

“I haven’t seen her yet,” Vickie replied, hands raised. “But I’m on the case, I promise.”

Dustin clapped his hands. “Does she like you back?” he asked, turning back to Nancy.

The woman shrugged and scratched at a rosy cheek. “I - I don’t know. She’s come over to chat with me once or twice.”

A gasp escaped Dustin’s lips. “I’ve worked in the service industry, Nance. Voluntary conversation? I’d expect a proposal any day now.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Wild,” he breathed. All heads turned to him.

“That someone would like me?” Nancy asked, tone strained.

Ah, hell. Steve backpedalled. “What? No, no,” he rushed. “Just, Nancy Wheeler, picking up women in a Starbucks.” He laughed. “I literally can’t get one single person on Tinder to meet up with me.”

Seemingly mollified, Nancy sent him a bashful smile. Dustin hummed. “Vickie,” he announced. “You keep me informed of developments, or else.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” Vickie replied with a salute.

By the early evening, when Steve finally relented and hugged Dustin goodbye—with a promise to come over tomorrow and put together his new IKEA wardrobe—Steve could feel the exhaustion creeping through his muscles. 

A long bath was in order, with bubbles, for sure, and maybe some ice-cream. Nobody had to know. He could finally catch up on the recent season of Black Mirror.

Thoughts of a lazy evening filled his head as he climbed the stairs, digging into his pocket for his keys. In his palm his phone came to life. Heart skipping just a little, Steve unlocked it, just to see Eddie’s contact name at the top of the screen. He slumped. Well. Eddie was still better than nothing. 

🦇 Eddie 🦇

You free?

Steve fired off a quick, ‘For you, always,’ before sliding off his shoes and making a beeline for the shower. Eddie only lived a few blocks away, he wouldn’t be long.

In fact, Steve barely managed to dry himself off and pull on a t-shirt and sweatpants before Eddie’s distinctive knock sounded at the door. How did he always manage to get through the foyer without being stopped?

The sight revealed when Steve opened the door had him feeling guilty at his earlier disappointment; Eddie Munson, slumped against the doorframe, clothes rumpled and a sleepy smile on his face. There wasn’t much better, really.

“Thought you might want some company,” Eddie greeted, voice thick and rasping. Steve could see the purple bags under his eyes clearly against his pale skin. “First night alone and all that.”

Steve sucked his teeth. “Ah, don’t remind me.” He stepped back, letting Eddie inside and nudging his shoulder as he passed. “Thanks.”

“Well, don’t expect any scintillating conversation. I’m shattered.”

“Dustin said. Rough week?”

He directed them to the kitchen, busying himself with preparing two cups of green tea as Eddie launched into a rant about whatever scenes had unfolded in the ER last night. Steve wasn’t really taking it in—the other man tended to go into great detail about his patients and Steve had learnt early on that there was no possible way to retain the information—but something about Eddie’s presence was soothing his aching body better than any bath could.

Leant against the kitchen counter, Steve’s eyes fell to Eddie’s hair. There were fly-away whisps creating a halo around his head, the ends looking split and dry. Steve pushed himself up, dragging a hand through the locks, surprised as always at how soft it was. For someone who didn’t know the first thing about self-care, Eddie always managed to treat his hair well. 

Steve hummed, not removing his hand from Eddie’s head. “Your ends need trimming.”

“Oh, God.” Eddie closed his eyes, nose scrunched up as he let out a dramatic groan. “I can’t even think about it.”

“Come on, I’ll do them now, while we watch something. Let me fetch my things. Grab a towel, yeah?”

Ten minutes later Steve had Eddie set up in the middle of the living room, perched on one of the dining table chairs. In the background the T.V. played quietly, Eddie watching with one hand clasped around the towel at his neck. Steve focused on making sure he caught all of Eddie’s layers.

“Oh, I remember this one. It’s the episode with the murder dungeon, right,” Eddie asked, his voice taking on that breathy tone it did whenever he got excited. 

“No, shut up!” Steve yelled. He kicked Eddie’s foot gently. “I haven’t seen it yet. And hold still.”

Shockingly, the other man did. If just for a while. As Steve worked his way to the front of his head, he could feel Eddie’s small puffs of breath cloud against his skin.

“Did Dustin like his present?” Eddie asked, eventually, unable to keep it in.

Steve hummed. “He loved it. Have you seen his new place? It’s really nice.”

“He showed me the listing,” Eddie replied, nodding. Steve straightened his head. “I’ll visit soon.”

Listening to the quiet sounds of the apartment, Steve paused for a moment, eyes lingering on where the soft tendrils of Eddie’s hair curled around his ears. From this angle he could see stubble against the other man’s jaw, where he’d missed shaving. 

“You have such nice hair, dude,” he sighed, toying at a few strands with the end of his comb. “I wish you’d let me play with it.”

“I let you cut it,” Eddie retorted.

“But you could do so much. I could dye it, you could get some great colour in there.”

“Over my cold, dead body,” the other man said, almost cheerfully. He leant in close. “Speaking of, how’s the salon stuff going? You talk with your dad?”

Steve perked up. “Oh, yeah, I was going to tell you. I showed him the business plan. Did a whole presentation and everything.”

At that, Eddie ducked away from Steve’s touch, turning to face him with bright eyes. “Yeah?” 

“Uh huh. He liked it,” Steve replied. He gnawed at his lip, hesitant under Eddie’s close scrutiny. “Said he’s going to speak with his investment guy or whatever, but he wanted me to start looking for a space.”

“So he’s going to finance it?”

Steve nodded. “I think so.”

Eddie sent him a toothy grin. “That’s great, Steve. You deserve it, you worked hard.”

“Ah, it’s weird when you compliment me,” Steve said, nosed crinkled. Why the hell did he always blush?

Eddie’s voice was steady when he said, “I mean it.”

“Yeah.” Steve shoved his shoulder. “That’s why it’s weird.”

From across the room Steve’s phone buzzed. “Oh, at last,” he muttered, setting down the scissors and crossing the room two long strides. 

Daniel 💯🔥

check it out - perfect beach sunset! 

[image attached]

and complimentary cocktails. next time I’ll bring you here - we can get friendly down in the sand 😉

Steve snorted, immediately searching for an appropriately sexy image of Olivia Newton-John in that skin-tight black number to send back.

“That that suit guy again?” came Eddie’s voice, drier than the Sahara. 

“‘That suit guy’,” Steve scoffed, settling on a GIF of Sandy stubbing out her cigarette on the ground in front of John Travolta’s face. “I don’t know how you can dislike someone that you’ve never actually met or spoken to.”

“I don’t dislike him,” Eddie replied, almost primly, as Steve dropped his phone onto the couch. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to your face.”

Eddie waved him off. “He’s agreed to meet you, then?”

He hadn’t agreed to meet Steve at all. Or, at least, they’d never managed to arrange a time and date. They definitely would. That suit guy—or Daniel, as Steve preferred to call him—had referenced their future meeting numerous times. It was just the details that were harder to pin down. 

Steve sniffed. “He’s abroad at the moment. For work.”

A familiar huff escaped Eddie’s lips. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Eddie.”

“Alright, sorry, fine. I’m sure he’s great.” Eddie delivered a shrug that would have filled Steve’s teenage-self with envy. “I just don’t understand why you’re so keen on him when you’re just messaging.”

“We’re developing a rapport.”

“Sure. Okay,” Eddie snorted. He caught sight of Steve’s face and rolled his eyes. “Okay,” he insisted. He waved at his head from beneath his towel. “Come on, you must be finished with all this by now.”

Steve let out a sigh. What did Eddie know about romance anyway? He’d been on about three dates at the most since Steve had known him, each of them first dates and complete disasters by all accounts. He trudged forward and drew the strands of hair at the front of Eddie’s head towards his collarbones, judging the length. 

“Stick a fork in you, Eddie Munson,” he announced. “You’re done.”

*

It turned out that Dustin had been right, they really weren’t the same. As much as the other seemed to be thriving living alone, Steve was sure he was descending into the pits of madness. 

“It’s so quiet, dude. Too quiet. I keep thinking someone’s going to jump out and murder me.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that when it’s quiet, Steve,” Eddie had said when Steve had voiced his concerns. “It’s when you do hear things that you’re probably about to get murdered.”

Thankfully, Vickie had had a more helpful suggestion and, not three hours later, a listing for a room to rent had been posted to every corner of the internet. 

It was a depressing process. 

“What the hell is wrong with people?” Dustin asked, having been roped in as moral support for the interviews (it was, after all, all his fault). “Why did he want to know so much about your bathing habits?”

Slashing a large red cross over the most recent interviewee’s name on his list, Steve sighed, stretching his neck. “At least he didn’t keep mentioning how attractive his own mother was, like that other guy. That was odd, right? That wasn’t just me? What about the next one?”

“Kevin Michaels. Twenty-seven, originally from Pennsylvania.” Dustin clicked his tongue. “Works in a morgue? Is that weird or fine? I don’t know. Oh, hang on. Under hobbies he’s just put, ‘mice’.” He looked over at Steve with wide eyes, lips pulled back in a grimace and whispered, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

It was fair to say, then, that Steve was beginning to lose hope. 

Enter Robin Buckley, stage right. 

Almost immediately upon seeing Robin, Dustin let out a sigh of relief. Steve gave him a thumbs up from behind the potential-new-roommate’s back as he led her to her seat. 

“So, Robin, right?” Steve started once he was finally seated, smiling widely and leaning forward. “Tell us a bit about yourself.”

Across the table, the woman nodded. She had a smile that reminded Steve of his little cousin: quick and candid. “Right, yeah, sure. Um, I guess I’ll start with why I’m looking. I’ve just moved to the city. Or, I mean, I’ve been here a few months now. I’m from Lowell, my family’s all there.”

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, wagging the pen in his hand towards Robin. “You’ve got a bit of a twang still. Don’t worry,” he added, when Robin shifted. “It’ll be gone soon. Nobody here can tell I’m from the middle of nowhere originally, not unless I tell them.” He winked. “Why Chicago? Big lights, big city?”

“Something like that,” Robin nodded. On the table, Steve watched as she picked at the skin around her nails. “The place I’m staying in now is a temporary arrangement. It’s, er, a bit of a dump, to be honest. It’d be nice to sleep under a roof that wasn’t covered in damp.”

“Oh, yeah. This place is great,” Dustin replied. Steve blinked. He’d almost forgotten Dustin was here. “I lived here for ages, I promise, you’ll love it.” Steve didn’t think either of them missed the certainty in Dustin’s choice of words. “What do you do?”

“I don’t really know yet,” Robin laughed, bright and clear. Dustin laughed with her, the sound infectious. Steve felt his cheeks bunch up. “I’m just working hours anywhere that’ll take me at the moment, but it’s gonna be good, I can tell. Everything here is so,” she shook her head a little, eyes wide, “big, I guess. There’s so much to do.”

So much to do.

Steve could work with that. Robin’s style definitely wasn’t Steve’s cup of tea, more Eddie’s—the dungarees she wore had patches sewn onto the cuffs and the hat perched jauntily upon her head could easily be mistaken for a tea-cosy—but she clearly had a sense of what went together and wasn’t afraid to try a bold look. She was sweet and bright and smiling. If Steve could just guide her, she’d be lethal. 

This was going to be so much fun. 

He cleared his throat and crossed his legs, Robin copying the motion. “Robin,” he beamed. “When can you move in?”

*

The day Robin arrived ended up coinciding with a date that Steve and Vickie had already got tickets for a gig. The ease with which Vickie managed to procure a third ticket had Steve convinced that it was fate. Robin Buckley was meant to be part of his life.

“It’s a kind of underground venue,” Steve explained as he pulled Robin through the streets. The sun had set hours ago and with it the rain of the day vanished. All that was left was the reflection of the street lights against the wet pavement. 

He’d have to remember to get a good photo before they went home. There was bound to be a spot near the club. “Vickie always knows about the best up and coming artists. She’s a photographer, so she works sometimes doing the official pictures. She’s pretty cool.”

Robin nodded, zipping up her puffer jacket against the cool air. She’d only brought two suitcases full of things to the apartment that morning and had decanted everything she owned into Dustin’s old room in a few short minutes. Upon seeing this sorry state of affairs—and having already taken a day off work especially—Steve decided to treat her to a tour of the neighbourhood. The coolest new cafes, the independent music shops with the rarest vinyls, the nearest gallery that hosted exhibitions all year round of the hottest new artists. It had, to be fair, been a lot, and Robin had clearly been tired by the time they’d got back home. The poor woman still looked a little green around the gills, but that didn’t stop the lights twinkling in her eyes. 

They were stopped at a crossing, waiting for the lights to change, when Robin grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him out of the throng. “Look,” she gasped, tugging Steve to the shopfront on the corner. “Puppies!” 

Sure enough, in the corner of the window, a group of puppies were piled on top of each other, all sleeping soundly. Robin knelt down in front of the window, phone in hand to capture the image. 

Cute, Steve thought. Robin was the cutest. 

An idea sprung, fully-formed into his mind, then. He, Steve Harrington, was going to find someone for his new friend, someone who would appreciate her, who would see her shine and would realise just how much of a catch Robin really was.

What better time to start than the present?

“Vickie! Hey, over here!” 

Steve waved Vickie down ten minutes later from their position in the queue. He sent a winning grin to the couple in front who scowled as Vickie joined them. “Ah, the infamous Robin, right?” his friend asked, shaking Robin’s hand. “How’s it going, I’m Vickie.”

“Yeah, Steve told me about you. Thanks so much for getting me a ticket,” Robin said, sounding breathless. “This place looks awesome.”

The queue shifted and they shuffled forward. “Don’t mention it. Can’t have you missing out,” Vickie quipped. “Wait until the band starts, it’s gonna blow your mind.” She turned her gaze, then, to Steve, who was leaning against the wall, gazing at the pair with a beatific smile. “Cute shoes, Steve. They new?”

“They are, thank you for noticing,” Steve replied, sticking one foot forward to show off a shiny, black, double-buckled monk shoe. “Salvatore Ferragamo, new this season.”

“Fancy,” Vickie replied with a whistle. She nudged Robin’s side and muttered conspiratorially while keeping her eyes on Steve, “Don’t worry, Robin, if you spill anything on them, you can blame it on me.”

“That’s a deal,” Robin laughed, before the doors opened for them and they were enveloped by the buzzing mass of the waiting crowd.

“It’s a shame Dustin didn’t want to come as well, I’m sure I could’ve got another ticket,” Vickie lamented after the music had died out and the bar run dry. 

They let themselves be swept along with the crowd billowing back out onto the street. Post-gig chatter plumed like smoke around Steve and he closed his eyes for just a second, soaking it in. “Nah, Dustin wouldn’t like this kind of thing.”

They turned a corner, back towards home and the crowd thinned out. “Really?” Robin said. “He seemed alright when I met him before.” If she’d looked tired before, she couldn’t seem more alive than she did now, and Steve congratulated himself again for finding her.

He bit his lip at Robin’s words. “No, I mean, he is great,” Steve said, mildly. He hadn’t meant to bad-mouth Dustin to Robin; at least, not before the woman knew he didn’t mean it, not really. “Just, people, you know, sometimes he can be - Ah, I love him to bits, but put him into a crowd full of, like, normal people -” He let out a sigh and gave up. The words were not coming. “Vick.” He knocked Vickie’s arm. “What am I trying to say?”

She weighed it up for a moment. As the other two waited, a few lone raindrops fell and Steve watched their glistening path down Robin’s coat sleeves.

“He just prefers meeting new people in familiar environments, I think,” Vickie finally settled on. “With his friends around as a buffer. He’s not to everyone’s taste.” She shrugged, her hands deep in her pockets. “You’ll see, once you get to know him, he’s a real character.”

“Socially awkward?” Robin replied. Steve hummed, stepping around a large puddle in the pavement. “Ah, well, that’s not unscalable. My sister’s a bit like that, and she’s still the coolest person I know.”

“I don’t know if I’d call Dustin ‘cool’,” Steve laughed. “It’s a bit embarrassing sometimes to be honest. You’d think he’d just keep quiet, but I don’t think he knows when to shut up .” There was a beat of silence. Shit. He’d said too much. “Don’t mention it to him, though,” he added with a wince. “He’d fully murder me if he knew I’d said something.”

Robin smiled. There it was again; lighting up the path home. “Sure,” she said. “Our secret.”

After they dropped Vickie off at the subway station and climbed the stairs up to the apartment, the noises of the city seemed cut off a little. Outside the night was still young. Inside, Robin closed the door behind the two of them and said, quietly, “Thanks for taking me with you tonight. I’m really glad I saw that listing, you know.”

She hugged Steve, then, warm and soft and smelling of the fabric conditioner that Steve’s mum used to use when he was a kid. He breathed it in.

“I’m glad, too, Rob,” he replied, quiet against her shoulder. “You and I are going to be great friends. I just know it.”

*

“Oh, God. Oh, I hate this, I hate this. Steve, I think I’m actually dying. Has anyone ever died doing this? Be honest with me.”

The gym was never this busy at Steve’s normal time, but Robin had been spectacularly stubborn leaving the apartment, so here they were, slumming it with the rest of the nine-to-fivers. He looked over at Robin on the treadmill, her face red in splotches and her hair curling where sweat clung to it. Her hands were leaving palm-prints where she was gripping on for dear-life to the handles of the treadmill. Really, he was impressed with himself that he’d managed to talk her into this.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” Robin let out a dark groan.

It was different enough in tone to the whines that had been spilling from her lips for the last thirty minutes that Steve cocked an eyebrow at her. “What?” 

There was a grimace working its way across her face as she hissed, “You know that girl I told you about?”

“Girl? What girl? Oi, I didn’t say you could stop!”

As the two of them squabbled over the power settings of the treadmill, Steve vaguely recalled Robin telling him about someone she’d met at her work; someone petite and sharp, with bright blue eyes. Blue eyes were all well and good, Steve had thought at the time, but what did they compare to Vickie? Vickie with her wide smile, bright hair and bubbling laugh. With just a little shove, Robin would see. 

Robin currently, however, was ignoring Steve’s protests in favour of outright panic. “She’s over there, I just saw her. What should I do? Should I go over?”

“Okay, you can stop,” Steve grumbled, withdrawing his hand. She’d just hurt herself anyway. He stepped back to meet her at the back of the machine, fully prepared to start listening to her increasingly high-pitched ramblings, until -

“Be still my beating heart! Is that Steve Harrington I see before me?”

With a shit-eating grin, Eddie waltzed up to them, squeezing between the cross trainer and the StairMaster. 

His arms were crossed against his chest and—in a move equal parts surprising and bold—his skin seemed to be sporting a post-work out glow that made him look almost muscular. Nancy flanked him and Steve noticed with a slight frown that she didn’t appear at all breathless either.

Did Eddie work out? Since when? Why had nobody told him?

It was perhaps the unexpected nature of their arrival (indeed it was more of an ambush, really, Steve realised the more he thought about it—an ambush when he was at his most vulnerable; under fluorescent lighting and sans hair-product) that caused Steve to snap back the way that he did. 

“Can you shut the fuck up?” he rushed out, chest heaving a little too much to be just annoyance.

Eddie snickered. “Oof, someone’s in a playful mood this morning.”

“Why are you here? You don’t exercise. Do you exercise?”

“He comes with me to kickboxing, like, once every two months,” Nancy offered. And, actually, she looked kind of tense. Perhaps that’s what kickboxing did to you. Steve made a mental note to sign up for a tester.

“Sad,” he said, pouting exaggeratedly at Eddie, who scowled back. “Hey, so, this is Robin,” he carried on, dropping the teasing tone and dragging Robin close to his side. “I told you about her. My new roommate. Rob, this is Eddie Munson and -”

“Nancy Wheeler,” Robin all-but squeaked. “Yeah, I - Yeah, we’ve met.” She flushed, cowering in the shadow of Steve’s glare. “I told you.”

If Steve hadn’t been about to collapse from exhaustion, he would have yelled. Petite? Sharp? Blue eyes? He blinked at Nancy. No way, there was no way. But, it had to be—why else would Robin be gripping his arm quite so tightly? Why else would the smile on her face look painted on, the whites of her eyes gleaming? 

Of course, Nancy was beautiful, sure, in an academic kind of way. She had a dorky charm to her. And there was no doubting that she was one of the truly good people in the world. Steve loved her dearly, in spite of her atrocious fashion-sense. 

But Nancy? And Robin? 

No, that wouldn’t work. They were far too different. Robin needed someone who could keep up with her, who could introduce her to all the sights and sounds of the city, who wouldn’t settle for shapeless and comfortable. 

All of this flashed through Steve’s mind as the other three waited for him to respond. “Er,” Steve said, morosely. Eventually he gathered his wits about, enough to mouth, ‘Starbucks girl?’ in Nancy’s general direction. 

From the way Eddie’s shoulders started to shake with suppressed laughter, he guessed perhaps he’d lost his subtlety at some point along the way 

“Um, well, I mean,” Nancy cleared her throat, pointing her thumb awkwardly over her shoulder. “We’re pretty much done here. Did you guys want to get some coffee?”

Almost before Nancy had finished getting the words out, Robin responded, “Yeah, sounds great.”

Steve narrowed his lips and stared intently at Eddie, who was smirking. 

“Great,” Nancy nodded. “Great. I, er, let me just grab my jacket. I left it, er, over, er, somewhere.” She trailed off and spun away behind one of the cross trainers.

Time for decisive action. 

“Oh, hey, Robin, I forgot to say,” Steve announced loudly, slapping Robin lightly on the arm. “Vickie was asking after you before.”

“Really?” Robin cocked her head, eyebrows raised, mouth formed in a small ‘o’. 

It wasn’t a lie. Vickie had messaged him the other day and Steve had been glad of it. It had been a long time since Vickie had liked someone, and Robin was the perfect candidate. 

“Yeah. She said he thought you had, and I quote, ‘A chill vibe’.”

“‘Chill’,” Robin repeated. “Huh. That’s cool.”

“Yeah.”

That was all there was time for before Nancy returned and they made their way as a group out of the gym floor and towards the cafe next door. It was all Steve needed, however. The seeds had been sown. 

“What are you doing?” Eddie muttered under his breath, lingering with Steve at the back of the group as Nancy and Robin chatted away. 

“Hmm?”

“What,” Eddie repeated, “are you doing?”

Steve clicked his tongue. He wouldn’t let Eddie intimidate him. “I am letting Robin know that she has options, that’s all,” he said, pronouncing his words carefully.

“Steve.”

“Eddie.” Eddie glowered. Steve groaned. “It’s fine,” he hissed. “Will you calm down?”

It took a few seconds for Eddie to respond, as if he was thinking carefully about his words. “Don’t mess this up for Nance,” he said eventually. “You know, she really likes that girl.”

Right, she thinks she does, Steve wondered. That was precisely the problem. Steve was the only one who could see the whole picture. He was going to have to take charge. For the good of everyone. 

*

A Friday a few weeks later announced itself with an unseasonal show of sunshine. So much so, in fact, that Steve’s boss made the executive decision to wedge open the salon’s door with the fake bay-tree that usually stood guard next to the reception. The warm air wafted in and bathed Steve in its embrace. 

His mood was so lifted by the balmy weather that, on his release from his station, he sent out a message to the newly-added-to group chat for everyone to rendezvous at his place as soon as their respective bosses allowed.  

From the back and forth in the chat box, it looked to be that Nancy was going to give both Vickie and Robin a lift. 

As Steve pondered this development, he pulled up Eddie’s contact in a separate message. 

Can you stop off at that fried chicken place on the way from the hospital?

Need food, can’t cook, too pretty

🦇 Eddie 🦇

Yep. I’ll be there in an hour, gotta clean up first.

😘

Opening up the chat he had with suit guy-Daniel, almost automatically, Steve stared at the message he’d sent the day before. Yesterday morning, in fact. The two blue ticks next to it seemed to intensify the longer he looked. 

“Ah, what the fuck are you doing?” he scolded himself. “You’re in trouble, Steven. Waiting for some random guy to text you back.”

He sighed, closing the chat and heading to his room to change. 

Dustin was the first to arrive, closely followed by Nancy, Vickie and Robin. By the time Eddie appeared with the bags of greasy chicken, the evening was well underway, windows swung open as wide as they could go, music floating in and out, and Dustin and Robin caught in a fierce battle on Mario Kart.

Curled up on the couch next to Eddie, Steve was quick to notice when Nancy lingered nearby, her eyes on Robin even as the other woman’s were glued to the screen. Where the heck was Vickie? 

“You know what would be fun,” he said to the room at large, just as Robin’s avatar drove so decisively off the edge of the track that Steve thought it must have been deliberate. 

“What?” Dustin grunted, reaching behind him to grab a chicken wing.

Steve slid down the couch so that he was laying dramatically across the pillows, his legs across Eddie’s lap, feet up near his head. He shoved his face against Robin’s shoulder where she sat on the floor. “Robin, let me dress you up.”

“Dress me up?”

“Yeah. You’re tall enough, I’m sure some of my stuff would fit.” Eddie snorted at that and Steve swiped at his jaw with his foot, which the other man caught in his grip. “Nothing a clothes peg or two can’t fix.” 

Robin leant her head back so the two of them were face to face. She wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“Because it’ll be fun,” Steve replied, simply. “You’ll let me have fun, won’t you, Rob?”

“You better watch it, Robin,” Dustin joined in, teasing darkly. “He’s one denial away from activating the puppy-dog eyes, then we’re all in trouble.”

Chuckling, Robin sighed good-naturedly and pushed herself off the floor. “Yeah, alright,” she relented. “Lead the way.”

“Isn’t it brilliant?”

“Um, yeah, I mean, yeah. It’s - Yeah.”

Steve levelled Eddie with a blank expression. Next to him, Dustin was nodding slowly, mouth pursed. 

Amateurs.

Regardless of what Dustin and Eddie thought, Steve reckoned he’d done a pretty good job, considering. The options for trousers had been limited, so Steve had narrowed it down fairly quickly to a pair of mustard-coloured corduroys that had been hiding at the back of his wardrobe for a few seasons and had worked the rest of the look around that. The main draw to the eye was the sports jacket, of course—a windbreaker with white, lavender, and turquoise blocking. The bucket hat was Steve’s favourite, however. He hadn’t even realised he’d owned such a thing until it literally fell into his hands while he rooted around his cupboards. Robin had added the smiley-face facemask left hanging on the edge of Steve’s dresser mirror that, while objectively horrendous, did tie the whole thing together somewhat nicely. 

The woman herself seemed pleased, though, as she jumped between poses in front of Steve’s phone-camera. Her eyes were happy crescents beneath the rim of her hat.

“You look good, Robin,” Nancy offered. 

As hesitant smiles flew in the air between the two of them, Steve’s eyes darted around the room. He reached out his arm, waving a hand towards them. “Vickie,” he called. “What do you think? I’ve done a good job, right?”

From where she was circling the room (was she collecting empty glasses? What in the name of helpful -?) Vickie stood up straight at the sound of his name. “Huh? You -?” She blinked, her eyes travelling between Steve and Robin. “Oh, yeah, yeah, for sure,” she rushed, setting the glasses on a side table and coming to stand directly next to Steve, admiring his work. “She looks great.” 

In a calculated move, Steve cocked his head for a moment. Then—after he counted in his head, one, two, three—he let out a gasp. “Ah, Rob, you know what we should do? We should make an Insta for you!” 

“Instagram?” Robin echoed, poses forgotten as she stood straight against the living room wall. “I already have an -”

“No, but I mean, a specific one,” Steve interrupted her, waving away her objections. “For, like, outfit inspo and stuff. We could call it, something, like, er -” He floundered. “Shit, Vickie, what should we call it?”

“Yeah, yeah, like, Daily Robin or, no, or -” She grimaced, fists almost clenched at her chest as she bounced on the spot. “Vintage Robin, Vintage Birdy!” Vickie cheered. “You know, like, Robin. Bird. Birdy. ” She seemed to take in the lack of response. “Yeah?”

“It’s not really a vintage look, though, is it?” Eddie supplied, still standing with his arms crossed in front of the couch. He had his head tilted, now, hair falling against his arms, faded band-t and black jeans saying more than his mouth ever could.

“Well, not this one, but others, maybe,” Steve came to Vickie’s defence. “I guess it is more street-wear. Oh!” He turned to Vickie, grabbing her arm. “Ooh, Vick, what about Bird on the Street?”

“‘Bird on the -’? Genius!” Vickie beamed at him, as if Christmas had come early. He was a genius, alright. He should charge Robin for this, he really should. Look at how happy Vickie was to be helping her. “Steve Harrington, your mind.”

“I know! Rob?”

The two of them turned, almost as one, to Robin, who blinked back at them like a fish in an aquarium. She pointed to herself and Steve nodded. “Oh, right. Yeah. Genius.”

Fingers wrapped around Steve’s shirt-sleeve and Vickie pulled him closer. “Steve, seriously, though,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Let’s do it properly. We can totally make this a thing. You brainstorm some looks, right, and I’ll scout out some locations.”

And, hell, Steve couldn’t have planned this better if he tried. “Perfect,” he sang. “Robin, what do you think? The three of us, we can make you a star.” He grinned, jazz hands fanned around his face as he bit his bottom lip. 

Robin looked at them, politely baffled. Steve would explain it to her later. “Sure,” she shrugged, smiling. “Yeah, if you really think people will like it.”

“It’s you, Rob. Everyone’s gonna love it.”

And everyone who mattered would love it. Steve was going to make sure of it. 

Hours later, after the street lights had come on and Vickie had called a ride home (still spewing ideas for Robin’s new influencer career), Eddie patted the space next to him on the window seat. “Come sit with me,” he called, his croaking voice the only real indication of how tired he must have been.

“What are we doing?” Steve narrowed his eyes while stepping closer, immediately suspicious. In his periphery, he spotted Nancy following Robin into the kitchen with her hands full of leftover, greasy chicken-shop bags.

“Nothing, just, come hang with me. Come on. I feel like I haven’t spoken to you all evening.” Eddie reached one leg out. Not long enough to span the space between them, his socked foot wiggled in the air. “Come on. Steve.”

“But -”

“Just, let them be for a sec.” When Steve relented and dropped down onto the cushion, Eddie slid closer. “Nancy’s gonna ask Robin out,” he said, voice low.

“What?” Steve squawked, making to stand once more. “Did she not see -?”

With a firm hand on his shoulder, Eddie pulled him back down. “We all saw, Steve,” he said, almost wearily. He met Steve’s eyes. “You need to be careful.”

Outside, the hum of city traffic seemed to vanish under the light of the moon. Instead, Steve could hear the rush of the wind through the trees on the outskirts of the city, the roar of the waves miles and miles away, the heartbeats of hundreds of thousands of people all sounding as one. Did Eddie hear the same, he wondered.

“Careful of what?” he retorted, tone jarring in the quiet night. He understood the implications of Eddie’s words alright—he wasn’t a fool, no matter what Eddie thought—and he didn’t much like them. “It’s just a little matchmaking, Ed. I think Vickie and Robin are better suited, that’s all. And Vickie likes her, I can tell.” 

Eddie shifted. “Robin is new to the city, alright. You can’t just -” His eyes flitted to Dustin, sound asleep laid out on the couch. “You’ve got Dustin fooled, for sure. He thinks that Robin will be a good influence on you.”

Steve pulled a face. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I know what you’re up to.” Eddie’s eyes travelled across Steve’s face, inscrutable and familiar all at once. “Robin is her own person.”

“I know that,” Steve said, slowly, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

“Do you?” Eddie replied, seemingly unaffected by Steve’s reaction.

“Yes. I do.”

Eddie hummed. “Okay. Just so long as you don’t forget it.” He rested his head, then, against the window ledge and stared at the street below.

In the next room, Steve heard Robin’s laughter ring through the walls. It didn’t matter what anyone thought, he decided. Dustin, or Eddie, or Nancy. Robin needed his help. Eddie would realise it soon enough, then it would be Steve offering his words of wisdom in the moonlight, they’d just have to wait and see.

Chapter Text

Steve was sure that he must have read the same sentence at least five times. From his spot by the window he had a perfect view of the street below, his eyes skipping away from the book in his hand to the pavement every other moment. 

He huffed, pulling his legs closer under the blanket and trying again. 

'Besides, I don’t know if I’m going to get married, or if I’m going to have children. Or maybe I’ll die before I get to do any of that. Why do I have to deny myself something I want right now to prepare for a future that may or may not come? '

The last part had been underlined in biro and Steve frowned, flipping through the pages. He came to a stop at the front, lingering on a neatly-written message on the title page, ‘Happy Birthday, Steve. Give this one a go. It really made me think. Best wishes, Nancy’ . 

Oh, right. Shit. This was the book Nancy had gifted to him for his birthday last year. It had been left on his bedside table since then, forming an aesthetic picture with his small but miraculously-still-alive succulent. The only reason that Steve was attempting to read it now was the wave of comments he’d received from people applauding his literary tastes when he’d posted it online. Clearly the finesse that Nancy missed when dressing herself in the morning she made up for in her cultural pleasures.

Nancy. 

That was where Robin was right now, out with Nancy on a coffee date. Maybe this was Nancy’s version of letting herself have something she wanted right now. Steve groaned and let the book fall shut without marking his page, setting it down on the windowsill.

On top of it all, Eddie’s words from the other day were still ringing in the back of his mind. Nonetheless, Steve could be as stubborn as a mule when he wanted (according to his mother) and, right now, he wanted it very much. Nancy would be fine.

The sound of a key turning in the lock roused him from his thoughts and Robin walked into the flat, a sixty-watt smile on her face. 

Steve was on his feet in an instant. 

“Rob, you’re back,” he called. “How’d it go?”

Robin, somehow, smiled even wider. “It was good, Steve. It was so much nicer to be able to have a proper conversation, you know, without having to run off and serve customers every two seconds.”

Her voice cracked a little, as if she’d worn it out. Funny, Nancy had never struck Steve as much of a chatterbox. Not with new people, anyway.

“You found stuff to talk about, then?” he asked, watching Robin slip off her shoes and wander over to the kitchen. Steve followed her through. 

“Oh, yeah. She’s really smart. Did you know she’s studying for a PhD part-time while she works?”

“Yeah, at Northwestern. Political Science.”

Robin looked at him a little bashfully from behind the fridge door as she pulled out a carton of orange juice. “Sorry, of course you know. You’ve known her for years, right? You want a glass?”

“Sure.” Steve jumped up to sit on the counter—something Dustin would have moaned him for. “And, yeah, it must be at least five years by now.”

Nodding, Robin handed him the first glass of juice. “She asked to meet me again,” she said, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Said she wants to take me to this performing arts exhibition or something downtown.”

“Hmm.” Steve looked down at the drink clasped between his hands. This was precisely what he’d been worried about. “What did you say?”

“‘What did -’?” Robin looked caught out. “Er, well, I said I’d need to check the rota at work.” She tapped her fingers on the counter. “Why?”

Careful now, Steve thought to himself. Now was not the time to be heavy handed. With an artfully light tone, Steve shook his head, lower lip jutting out just a little. “No,” he brushed off. “It’s nothing.”

“Do you - Do you think I should say no?”

“You’re your own person, Robin. It doesn’t matter what I say.”

Peering out from over the top of his glass, Steve watched as Robin worried at her lip. If Steve had done his job properly, any moment now …

“But,” Robin stepped closer to him. “What do you think?”

Bingo.

Steve set his juice aside and jumped down from the counter to stand next to Robin, pressing their arms together. “Look, Nancy’s my friend. Like I said, I’ve known her for years. She’s lovely. Only,” he trailed off, clicking his tongue. 

“Only what?” Robin asked, hanging onto Steve’s every word. 

“It’s down to you, Robin, absolutely,” Steve replied, injecting his voice with as much authority as he could. He realised, belatedly, that he was imitating Eddie’s inflections. It was fine, though; Robin wouldn’t notice. “Only you know what’s best for you. Just, I wonder if you and Nancy really have all that much in common?”

Robin seemed to ponder this, nodding and leaning back against the counter. “Right, no, of course,” she muttered. “But, I mean, I suppose you have a point. She’s not really - She’s not like the girls I usually date.” 

“It’s nice to be wanted, no doubt.” Steve sighed. “And Nancy is going to make someone very happy one day, I’m sure about that. You just have to ask yourself whether it should be you.”

“Right.” Robin hesitated, eyes flicking up to Steve’s. “But she is very sweet to me.”

Steve carried on as if he hadn’t heard her. “Or, whether maybe there’s somebody else who might make you even happier.” He raised his eyebrows. “Someone you might be overlooking, just because Nancy came along first.” Pausing for a moment, Steve let his pitch raise just a little as he offered, “Vickie’s lovely, too.” Robin’s head whipped up and Steve rushed to add, “She’s been texting me, you know. She’s really working hard on ‘Bird on the Street’ for you.” He shrugged. “I think she wants to impress you.”

“Oh.” Robin sounded several miles away, Steve almost felt sorry for her. “Really? Right. Well, I mean, if you - I should - I’ll text Nancy.”

“Yes, you should definitely be honest with her, whatever you decide.” An image of Nancy floated in Steve’s mind then. She was probably messaging Eddie right now, telling him how well the date had gone. It was an unpleasant situation, for sure, but better to nip it in the bud. “You don’t want to string her along.”

“No, no, I don’t want to do that.”

Neither of them spoke for a while, the sound of someone walking up the stairs outside thudded rhythmically through the walls. “So?” Steve prompted when he couldn’t take it any more.

Robin startled. “So, yes. So, I’ll message her and I’ll tell her that I had a great time and -” She blinked at Steve. “And that - That I’d really like to -” Steve cocked his head. “That I’d like to stay friends with her?”

“Right,” Steve breathed, nodding along as he reached out and squeezed Robin’s shoulder.

“Because we’re just not compatible, romantically,” Robin carried on, a small smile on her face, as if she’d just passed some test. “I mean, we can still see each other.”

“Uhuh, sure. It’s for the best. And Nancy will see that, she won’t be upset, I promise.”

“Right.” Robin’s smile faltered just a little as she echoed Steve’s words. “For the best.”

*

“Steve, come take a look.”

It was hard to avoid anybody in Dustin’s apartment. As nice as it was, it was undeniably small. Something that was working against Steve that evening. Of course, it wasn’t that he was trying to avoid Vickie and Robin, but rather, give them the space to break into any such intimate conversation as they might see fit. 

Eddie, on the other hand, he definitely was trying to avoid. The man had been glowering at him from the moment he’d arrived. It was because of Robin and Nancy, of course, but Steve hadn’t quite anticipated the intensity of Eddie’s ire. 

No matter. 

He would focus on the positives: Vickie and Robin huddled together on the sofa, curled over Vickie’s phone. 

Vickie beckoned him over once more. Over her shoulder Robin was beaming. 

“What are we looking at?”

“‘Bird on the Street’,” Vickie replied. “I’ve been working on it. Set up the profile and the bio. We’ve only got the few shots from the other week, but I’ve found some great places we could go. What do you think to this weekend? We could buy whatever outfits you need in the morning.”

Far too aware of the scowl directed towards him from the corner, Steve barely let his eyes gloss over the screen Vickie presented to him. “This looks amazing, Vick,” he gushed. And, actually, now that Steve looked a little closer, the bio did look pretty professional, the profile picture Vickie had chosen one he had taken the other day, with Robin sipping on a bright pink milkshake, eyes bright, the sun shining through the blinds of a retro-cafe she’d been dying to visit. “You’ve captured Robin’s personality perfectly!”

“Well, the way you styled her was a great start,” Vickie shrugged, smiling down at her phone as she continued to swipe through the small number of images.

“But, I mean the whole profile.” Steve nudged Robin’s arm. “A slice of you, Rob, isn’t it?”

Robin nodded in a small flurry, humming her agreement. “Yeah. I love it,” she replied, voice light as Vickie grinned back at her. “Thank you, Vickie.”

Steve only had a moment to bask in the glow of the pair’s mutual happiness before Eddie cast a shadow on the scene. Attempting to ignore the man standing directly in front of him didn’t last long as soon Eddie was leaning down and muttering in his ear, “Steve. A word,” before retreating to the kitchen again, daggered-gaze still visible across the open plan space. 

“You better go and face the music,” Vickie murmured next to him, with a sympathetic grimace. The others hadn’t missed Eddie’s sour mood either, then.

Traipsing over, Steve felt almost as if he was in school again, being summoned to the headmaster’s office for trying to cheat on a test. Opposite him Eddie folded his arms, pining Steve down with just a look. 

“Robin turned Nancy down,” he started. “I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

Oh, God. Why couldn’t Eddie just let it slide? Why did he have such an innate ability to make Steve feel bad, when he’d done nothing wrong? Be strong, Steve. Be. Strong.

He made sure to meet Eddie’s gaze. “I do,” he said. “I think Robin would rather just be friends.”

Immediately, Eddie’s lips curled into a sneer. “Bullshit,” he hissed. “Bullshit, Steve.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I know you were very invested in their little date, dude, but, as you know, Robin is her own person. If she wants to just be friends, then there’s not much we can do.”

“I saw the text Robin sent her.”

“So you know what she said already, why are you asking me?”

“Because you might as well have written it and you know it.”

“I don’t -” Steve let out a sigh. It wasn’t like he enjoyed arguing with Eddie. In fact, he hated it, but the other man was just so goddamn bull-headed sometimes. He needed bringing down a peg or two. 

Across the other side of the apartment Dustin appeared to be in the middle of telling the others a story, his arms flailing in front of him as his face cycled through a range of expressions. Robin’s laugh could be heard clearly even as she faced away from them.

Eddie changed tactics. “Do you not like Nancy?” he said, slowly. Steve gaped at him. How on earth could he ask that?

“Of course I like Nancy,” Steve blurted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t think it is a ridiculous question, actually,” Eddie replied, voice stern. “You sure aren’t behaving as if you like her. Not as if you’re her friend.” The other man clicked his tongue, looking away from Steve for a moment, evidently finding the words for his next blow. “She was so excited, Steve. She was so excited.” He shook his head, eyes travelling across Steve’s face. “And then she wasn’t excited at all. She was supposed to be here tonight, you know. Now she’s all - Why would you do that to her?”

“I didn’t do - For God’s sake, it’s not -” Steve groaned. “She’ll get over it. I haven’t done anything wrong! Robin and Nancy aren’t right for each other and Nancy will realise that soon enough.”

“Because the great Steve Harrington decrees it, it must be so?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Steve snapped. He’d had enough of this. How long was Eddie going to sulk about it? If he cared so much, why hadn’t he spoken to Robin directly? Why was he just moaning to Steve? He just didn’t like being wrong. “Well, what about Vickie, then? Huh?” Steve countered. “Do you not like Vickie?”

Eddie scoffed. “That’s different. Vickie’s not interested in Robin. Not like that.”

“Of course she is.”

For a second Steve just watched as Eddie shifted on the spot, flexing his jaw, arms folded still. A knot formed in Steve’s stomach. “You’re so blinkered, Steve,” Eddie eventually replied, his voice oddly soft, but without any of its normal care. Jesus, he must be livid. “You’re so convinced you’re right, you can’t see what’s blindingly obvious to the rest of us.”

What the hell was Steve supposed to say to that? “Oh, yeah?” he snapped back, straightening his posture and leaning close. “And what is it that’s so obvious to everyone but me, then?”

“People are going to get hurt,” Eddie hissed, not missing a beat. “Nancy already is. You’re setting Robin up for a fall. Vickie’s going to come out of this the villain when she hasn’t even done anything wrong. It’s you, Steve. You’re the villain, it’ll be your fault.”

A villain? Is that what Eddie really thought? Why couldn’t he see what Steve saw, what was right in front of them; that Robin and Vickie were compatible, were meant to be; that Nancy wasn’t right? Why didn’t Eddie trust him?

“Nothing to say to that?” Eddie quipped, as Steve did nothing but stare. He stepped into Steve’s space, dropping his voice even lower. “This is real life, Steve. Real people with real feelings, not your toys to be played with.” He shook his head. “The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Robin is my friend,” Steve replied, horrified at the slight wobble in his lower lip, the angry flush he could feel on his cheeks. “I know what’s best for her.”

Eddie let out a soft laugh, stepping back, his shoulders slumping as if he’d given up. “Sure,” he breathed. “Sure, Steve. I hope you’re right. I’m gonna head home. I’m getting a headache.”

Before Steve could say anything else, Eddie retreated into the hall, leaving him alone in the small kitchen, heart pounding in his chest.

Daniel 💯🔥

wyd

Later, after Steve had mumbled his own excuses to Dustin about feeling ill and going home (“You do look a bit peaky. Eddie wasn’t feeling great, either, maybe there’s something going around”), Steve pouted at Daniel’s message as he toed off his shoes.

Nothing. Had a fight with Eddie

Do you think I’m self-centred?

Sorry, I don’t mean to be a downer

He just doesn’t normally say things he doesn’t mean

Daniel 💯🔥

ignore him

self confidence is an attractive quality

and you're 🔥

Thanks

Where are you now? Somewhere exotic?

Daniel hadn’t replied by the time Steve finished brushing his teeth. With nothing else to distract him, he crawled into bed, listening to the sounds of the city beyond the window and wondering if Eddie felt quite as awful as he did.

*

“Knock knock.”

The bedroom door was open and Steve looked up to see Robin leaning against the frame, head bent a little. She had her jacket on, her rucksack flung over one shoulder. “Hey,” she smiled, voice gentle. “How are you feeling?”

From his position leant against the headrest, still under the covers, Steve waved, trying not to look as pathetic as he felt. “Hey, Rob. I’m fine,” he said, fixing a smile onto his face. “I’m super fine. Just wallowing.”

It was late in the morning and all Steve had managed to achieve was dragging his laptop from the dining table back to his room, and raiding the cupboard for a breakfast of cereal with chocolate milk, the remnants of which balanced precariously on the pillow next to him. Still, the sky outside was blue, the sun bursting through the window in beams that transformed the dust inside to glitter. 

“Eddie’s here,” Robin announced. “Said he wanted to talk to you, I don’t know if …” She trailed off, grimacing a little in Steve’s direction.

“Eddie’s here? Oh, shit, um -” Steve hit the spacebar on his laptop, pausing the film he had just started and pushing it off his knees to the bottom of the bed. He moved the cereal bowl to the bedside table. “Er, yeah, let him in.”

Robin nodded. “Okay. I’m about to leave for my shift anyway.” She sent Steve a sympathetic shrug—at least, that was how Steve was choosing to interpret it—before turning on her heel. 

Gentle conversation floated through the door from the hallway, Eddie’s voice obvious even from rooms away, before the man himself appeared in the doorway. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Hi.”

“Duvet day?” Eddie asked, stepping further into the room. His toes flexed against the floor, the tiny seahorses on his socks wriggling with them. 

Steve smiled. “I don’t work Mondays.”

“I know, I just - I wanted to talk about last night, about what I said.”

“Ed,” he groaned. “Do we have to?”

“No, yes, we do. I said some shit, Steve, and I shouldn’t have.” Eddie looked over to him with baleful eyes and Steve knew he’d already lost. There was no escape once Eddie Munson decided to Talk. “I feel awful about it.”

With a heavy sigh, Steve lifted the corner of his duvet and patted the space next to him. “Come on,” he breathed and nodded to the laptop screen. “It’s ‘Titanic’.”

“Oh, God. That bad?”

Steve let out a flat laugh. It was somewhat of a running gag in their group; you could tell just how upset Steve was by the T.V. shows and movies he started bingeing. On this particular occasion, he’d jumped straight in at ‘code red’. “Yeah, kind of,” he mumbled.

A warm body joined his beneath the sheets and Steve became very aware of his unbrushed hair and the holy pyjama top he was wearing. 

Beside him, Eddie was busy staring at his nails, the dark paint on them chipped and coming off in flakes. “I didn’t mean to imply - I didn’t mean to say that you would deliberately hurt any of our friends. I know you wouldn’t.”

The side of Eddie’s face looked pale and Steve watched the dim light flicker across his cheek. Something stirred in his chest as he replied, “Of course I wouldn’t.”

“I know. I know that. You’re a kind person, you’ve always been -” Eddie raised his head then, meeting Steve’s gaze. Perhaps he hadn’t realised that Steve had been looking right at him, but he cut himself off, instead taking a heavy breath. “I didn’t intend to say it,” he began again, slowly. “But it is what I said, so I’m sorry for that. I don’t think that of you at all. I ended up doing the thing I accused you of in the first place.”

Steve nodded. The knot in his chest loosened. “Okay.”

“And, I don’t know, I guess maybe you’re right. I was chatting with Robin just now, she does seem to like Vickie,” Eddie carried on, his words coming faster now. “I was just too busy being protective of Nancy, that I forgot to think about how my words would upset you.” He winced. “And I was angry, I suppose. And I’m just really sorry, Steve.”

It was funny, really, but with the warmth of Eddie’s body tucked into this side, the whole thing felt so inconsequential. Steve had been overzealous and Eddie over-protective; neither of which were hanging offences. 

“It’s okay, man,” Steve replied, shuffling closer and nudging Eddie’s arm. “I forgive you.”

A smile crept onto Eddie’s face. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Steve clicked his tongue and hoped Eddie would hear the truth behind his teasing tone, “I don’t like it when we’re not speaking.”

The smile widened. “Well, the fact that I barely made it twelve hours probably means I don’t either.”

Right. Perhaps Eddie had felt just as bad as Steve last night. “And, I will accept that sometimes, maybe,” Steve added. “I do go a bit overboard. Just a little. Someone’s gotta keep me in check.”

Eddie laughed before meeting Steve’s gaze once more. “Alright. But, I promise I’ll do so with a bit more tact in the future.” He bit his lip. “You know I love you, right?”

“God, now I know it was serious.”

“Brat,” Eddie huffed, whacking Steve’s leg.

Steve let out a dramatic groan, clutching at the spot while Eddie grumbled. Settling down, however, he replied, softly, “Love you, too,” and didn’t miss how Eddie worked to suppress a smile. “Do you remember the day we met?” he asked.

“‘Do I -?’ No, Steve, you know I don’t.” 

“Right,” Steve clicked his tongue. “I forget your memory’s failing you in your old age.” 

“—I’m barely four months—”

“You said that I was the nicest boy you’d met all day,” Steve continued, ignoring the protests he knew Eddie would launch.

Eddie sighed, slumping into the pillows. “So I’m told,” he drawled.

“This was just after I’d helped you down from where you’d gotten stuck on the monkey bars.” Steve rolled his head to look over at the other man, pleased to see the flat expression on his face. “I only bring it up because I think maybe you got it wrong.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He licked his lips. “I think maybe you’re the nicest boy. In, like, the world.”

Eddie laughed softly, his breath pushed from his nose. He hummed. “So you’ve checked in with all the boys, have you?”

“Yeah,” Steve teased. “There was a Zoom call the other day, while you were in the shower. We all agreed.” 

There was a short silence where Steve kept his eyes on Eddie, the other man staring up at the ceiling. There was nothing interesting up there, so he must have been doing some thinking. 

Just when Steve was about to interrupt—there was no reason to be thinking for that long about anything, let alone whether you were nice or not—Eddie mumbled, “I’m not so sure.”

Steve frowned. “That’s fine. I am.” He reached out and tugged at a few scant hairs from Eddie’s bangs. “Just your big, scary hair and your big, scary music confuse people sometimes.”

“My hair isn’t big and scary.”

“Yes. Yes, it is,” Steve replied. “Trust me, I’m a professional.”

The other man hummed after a moment of quiet. “Has he saved her from jumping yet?” 

“Huh?” Steve grunted.

“Kate and Leo,” Eddie replied, nodding to the frozen laptop screen. Steve shook his head. “No? Good. Time for me to make some popcorn.”

As his friend scrambled out of the bed, Steve chuckled. “Dude, it’s almost eleven. Don’t you have work?”

“Called in sick, don’t tell my boss.” Eddie winked at him before his features sombered. “You don’t mind?”

Would you look at that, how quickly his day had changed from a forlorn self-pity party to a whole day-in with Eddie, just the two of them. 

“No, no I don’t mind,” he beamed. “Room under the duvet for both of us.”

Eddie’s returning smile was almost as bright as his own.

*

As Steve patted his face, making sure the very last of the sunscreen had been absorbed, he kept one eye on the already-high morning sun beyond the window. In his pocket his phone buzzed—probably Dustin snarking at him for reminding him to bring a water bottle. 

He pulled his cap onto his head and eye’d himself in the mirror. 

Not too bad, if he did say so himself. Mind you, ten minutes on the motorway and he’d be reduced to a pool of sweat, so why, really, was he bothering?

In any case, he pulled out his phone and took a picture in the mirror, peace sign on full display and smoulder in action. 

“Perfect,” he muttered as he sent it through to Daniel with a ‘Too cute to get the Final Destination treatment, right?’ 

On his way out he popped his head into Robin’s room. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

The lump under the covers that was Robin groaned and a tuft of hair poked out from the top. Steve bit down a smile; even when she was sick, Robin was pretty adorable.

“No,” the lump croaked out. “I’d throw up everywhere before I even got on a ride.”

“Gross,” Steve replied, chirpily. “I left some paracetamol on the counter. There’s leftovers in the fridge if you do get hungry. Or toast. You should eat.”

Robin just hummed. “Tell the others I said hi. And Vickie.” The covers were pulled down just far enough for Steve to make out her tired eyes. “Send me pictures?”

“‘Course. I’ll be documenting Eddie’s fall into despair.”

“Didn’t you say Dustin was bad with rides, too?”

“Oh, he is, but he doesn’t lie about it, he just won’t go on them. Eddie will go on every single one just to prove he’s not scared.”

Robin laughed, which turned into a cough. “You’re mean,” she spluttered.

“Yeah,” Steve grinned. “Feel better, Rob.” 

He left the flat in a whirl, taking the stairs three at a time. Stepping into the direct sunlight—yeah, he had been right not to bother bringing his denim jacket—he spotted Nancy in the driver’s seat of her car, loitering in a parking spot across the street. On seeing him, Nancy waved him over. 

“Nance! Hi!” Steve rushed, ducking into the backseat while the traffic was quiet. “I didn’t realise you were coming.”

“I wasn’t, but Dustin said there was a spare ticket, since …” She let the sentence linger between them. 

Ah, right. In the passenger seat, Eddie was fixed on his phone. Steve flicked his ear before he poked Nancy’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a while. You look good.” 

Nancy scoffed. “I passed Steve Harrington quality control? I’ll have to let the boss know, he can get it on tomorrow’s front page.”

“Shut up, no, I mean, like, in yourself.” Steve wiggled his fingers in Nancy’s general direction and added, “You’re not mad at me?”

She turned around to face him, eyebrows brought together. “No, of course not,” she said, sounding bemused. “I’m a big girl, I can handle a - I’ve been turned down for dates before, Steve.”

Isn't that what Steve had been telling everyone? He let his eyes travel over Eddie, still not looking up. It was good to hear it, though, straight from the horse's mouth. Steve shrugged, sitting back against the seat. “Still.”

“I was just embarrassed. We’re okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I can help you find someone, Nance, if you really want.”

A honking laugh escaped Nancy’s throat and Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at it. “I’m good for now. I’ve got you lot, don’t I?”

This, it seems, was enough for Eddie to join in the conversation. “Of course you do,” he replied, forcefully. “Let’s get this mess on the road. We’re picking Dustin up from Vickie’s, yeah?”

The trip to Cedar Point had been Vickie’s idea. An odd one, if Steve was being honest—Robin quite obviously exuded the aura of someone who avoided near-death situations, even if simulated—but Steve was looking forward to it nonetheless. Vickie couldn’t get everything right all of the time, that’s why Steve was helping her. 

Families and groups of friends had clearly flocked to the park in the summer sun like moths to a flame, the walkways busy in all directions.

Stopping on the inside of the entrance, Steve stood with his face to the sky, soaking in the warmth and the bubbles of laughter from the crowds bursting in his ears. 

“Hey, Steve,” Vickie said, coming up to stand next to him. She had a glint in her eye. “Race you to the ‘Maverick’.”

Steve didn’t even wait for Vickie to finish. “Wait for me!” he heard Dustin yelling behind them, and he laughed into the breeze, Vickie’s giddy face racing past. 

“We’ll find something you like next,” Steve comforted, resting his arm around Eddie’s shoulders as the five of them stood at the entrance to the queue for ‘MaXair’. “The pony rides, maybe. Or the railroad.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie muttered, staring up at the colourful ride, its two long arms spinning, the people strapped in along the also-spinning prongs at each end screaming louder and quieter on a loop. 

“You did alright on the ‘Maverick’, Dustin,” Vickie piped up from Dustin’s side—who was also staring up at the ride with an expression to suggest it had at some point insulted his mother. 

Dustin wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. “I need longer between them. You guys go ahead, go on. Leave your bags with me, it’s fine.”

“You can stay, too, Eddie,” Nancy added, failing to conceal her mirth at his grey face. 

“No,” the older man countered, eyes bright. “I want to do it.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say. See you on the other side, Henderson!”

Waving goodbye to Dustin, Steve grabbed Eddie’s shoulders and pointed him in the direction of the queue. He stumbled forwards, like a man headed towards the gallows. “You really don’t have to,” Steve muttered, so just the two of them would hear. 

Eddie bit his lip, side-eyeing Steve before ducking his head. “I know,” he said. “Maybe I just like all the attention, Steven, you ever thought of that?” And Eddie flicked Steve’s cap down into his face before running ahead to join Nancy and Vickie. 

What an absolute dipstick, Steve thought, smiling wide, and followed him into the crowd.

It went on.

“Oh, the ‘Raptor’, Dustin? You like dinosaurs!”

“‘Professor Delbert's Frontier Fling’! Sounds educational, no?”

“The ‘Corkscrew’?

“Come on, you can’t say no to ‘Valravn’, Eddie.”

“What about ‘The Matterhorn’? I’m serious, this time - you’ll like that.”

In the end, Dustin did relent to the ‘Blue Streak’ and ‘Mine Ride’, as well as the ‘Snake River Falls’, which Steve was sure he actually enjoyed; the gentle incline and cool water on their skin a relief more than anything. Nancy got soaked sitting at the front, her shirt dripping a trail behind him while she navigated to the nearest toilet to ring out her clothes. 

It was while they were on the safari ride, after grabbing a quick lunch of hamburgers and fizzy drinks that a now just-slightly-damp Nancy asked, “Steve, how’s the search for your salon location going? Eddie said you were looking.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s hard,” Steve replied, keeping his eyes on the faux-wilderness beyond the trailer window. Eddie, in the window seat, turned his head to him, a puzzled expression on his face that had Steve ducking his head, scratching at his neck. “I don’t want it to be too grand,” he explained. “Or in too busy a place, you know.”

From two seats in front, hands clasped to the window ledge and not taking her eyes off the grassland, Vickie asked, “Why not? I thought your dad was giving you the money. Oh, look,” she yelled, pointing. The rest of them rushed closer to see. “Lion, I see a lion!”

Sure enough, lying at the base of a large boulder, a male lion was rolling in the dirt, stretched out like a house-cat.

“Cute,” Eddie breathed. 

As they went on down the track, the lion vanishing from view, Steve continued, “He agreed to finance the business plan, yeah.” It was hard to vocalise, Steve found, what he was thinking. They probably wouldn’t understand, and it was poor taste, really, to whine about it. But he didn’t mean to whine, that was the thing. He shifted. “I don’t - I mean, I know it’s nepotism -”

“Hey,” Eddie barked out. “You worked hard.”

“Yeah, no, I have, I am, but that is what it is. It’s a fact.” He grimaced. “I still want to do it myself, you know. Start small, build up a client base.” He licked his lips, eyes travelling across the dusty landscape as if he might find the perfect place right in front of him. “I need somewhere that says, reliable and independent and, you know, cool.”

It had been disheartening, if he was honest, when he started looking. He wasn’t sure what was right, but everywhere he’d seen had just been so clearly wrong.

“Well, you know,” Nancy started, her voice taking on the higher pitch of someone sounding out a thought as they had it. “There’s a start-up forum that we’re involved with, you know, at the paper. If you apply to join, you could make loads of connections. Someone may know of the right place.”

Steve stared. Start-up forum? That would be perfect. Of course Nancy would know, she had all sorts of contacts, didn’t she? One of the perks of working at the local paper. Steve should really start listening more when she talked about it. 

“That sounds awesome, Nance,” he said, caught off guard at the pleased little smile on Nancy’s face. “Thank you.”

“Giraffe! Giraffe, look!” Vickie shouted, finger shaking as she pointed at the impossible-to-miss giraffe walking directly towards them. 

“Yes, Vickie, we see it,” Dustin teased, moments before the giraffe stuck its head down next to the trailer, and Dustin retreated with a yell to the other side. 

As a last hurrah, when the crowds thinned out in the late afternoon, the small group—lead mostly by an insistent Nancy—headed towards the lake in the middle of the park, home to a dozen giant swan-shaped pedalos.

“Steve, saved you a seat,” Vickie said, tapping the plastic seat of the pedalo she’d claimed. “Eddie, I think Dustin wanted you with him. More pedal power.”

“Keep them out of trouble,” Steve winked at him in response to Eddie’s small pout as he trundled over to the pedalo Dustin and Nancy were entering. He eye’d the vessel dubiously as it began to violently shake, one of Nancy’s feet still clinging to the deck. 

He and Vickie, however, navigated the water with ease, and not three minutes later, they were in the middle of the lake, the others a mere blip back near the shore.

“Jesus, Steve. You don’t skip leg day, do you?” Vickie laughed. “You having a good time?”

“Yeah, the best,” Steve replied, kicking his feet up as they started to float aimlessly. “It’s such a shame Robin wasn’t feeling up to it.”

“She’ll bounce back,” Vickie breezed. She leant against the console between them, her smile flickering enough for Steve to sit up a little straighter. “Hey, Steve,” she started. “I was wondering, how would you like to get dinner sometime? Next week, maybe?”

“Next week?” Steve gnawed at his lip. He really needed Vickie to start spending time with Robin alone, not with the rest of them. “Well, you know, I think I’m pretty busy. And Eddie definitely has to work late for a few days. I’m sure Robin is free, though, the two of you could go. She’s been talking about that new Caribbean place where the O'Sullivans used to be.”

Vickie let out a stilted chuckle, wrapping her knuckles against the plastic console. “Oh, I mean, sure, we can go there sometime, if Robin wants, but I meant you. That is, just me and you.” She cocked her head, squinting in the sunlight. “Like a date.”

What? Steve frowned. What had he just heard? Stupidly, he looked behind him, wondering if the others had caught up and Vickie was talking to one of them. 

He was met with empty water.

“‘A date’?” Steve echoed, turning back to Vickie and ignoring the way his voice caught. “With me?”

Seemingly amused by the display, Vickie laughed again, more sincerely this time. “Yes, with you,” she said. “You’re kind of a catch, Steve.”

Steve’s heart sank.

“No, but - No.”

“You don’t want to?”

“No, I mean - But you like Robin.”

“What?” Vickie replied, his own brow furrowed in confusion now, a mirror to Steve’s own.

“You like Robin,” Steve insisted. He could feel his cheeks heating up. This was not happening. “You should be asking Robin.”

“I don’t - No, I don’t - I like Robin, of course I do,” Vickie spluttered, her expression morphing into something more panicked. Oh, why were they in the middle of a lake right now? “But not - I don’t want to date her. I like you, I thought that was - Was that not what -” Vickie baulked. “Have I misunderstood? I’m sorry, I thought you were, you know, we’ve been spending so much time together, messaging, I thought -”

“Yeah, about Robin!”

They weren’t that far from shore, really. Steve could probably make it if he jumped.

“Right, shit.” Vickie seemed to deflate in on herself. The horror speeding through Steve’s veins was quickly replaced with something worse. “This is embarrassing. I’m - I’m sorry, I did completely misread this whole thing, shit.” Vickie’s eyes flickered over Steve’s face. No, he thought, don’t ask it, don’t ask it. Vickie asked it, regardless. “But, alright, just to be clear, would you - You’re not interesting in dating me?”

“No!” Steve whined. Then, “Jesus, sorry, I didn’t mean to -” He reached out and squeezed Vickie’s arm, releasing it quickly at the grimace on her face. “You’re lovely, Vick, you’re really lovely, that’s why I thought you and Robin would be so good together. She really likes you.”

Vickie nodded, rubbing her face with her hand. “Ah, this is a mess. Robin - Ah, hell.” She shot a wide-eyed look at Steve. “That isn’t why she turned down Nancy, is it?” she gasped and buried her face in her hands once more. “Shit. Shit, I wouldn’t - I didn’t mean to get in between them.”

Guilt. That’s what that horrible feeling was: guilt. 

“You didn’t. You didn’t, Vick,” Steve groaned. “That was me. I’m the idiot here.”

He shook his head, looking over his shoulder. Maybe, if they could see the others, if they could break the tension somehow, this would all be a little less humiliating. Of course, the others were nowhere to be seen. For the best, really. Nobody else needed to be a witness to this.

“Kind of an stupid place to ask someone on a date, now I think about it,” Vickie piped up, eyes unfocused, though her mouth twitched. “I’m trapped with you now.” And then she smiled over to Steve, eyes bright against her flushed skin. 

Steve giggled, unable to stop himself. “Vickie,” he pouted, nose wrinkled. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Steve. It’s kinda hilarious, really. We’re both a bit dumb, huh?” Vickie shook her head clear. “Let’s steer this swan in,” she said. “Get some churros, or something.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “Yeah, alright.”

Outside the park, after a very abridged explanation, the group headed towards the emptying car park, the sun still bright in the clear blue sky.

“Do not say ‘I told you so’,” Steve muttered under his breath as he walked slowly with Eddie at the back.

Eddie hummed. “Okay. But just to be clear … I did tell you -”

“Eddie.”

He raised his hands before huffing a little and kicking the side of Steve’s ankle as they walked. “My apology still stands, you know. You had good intentions.”

Well, at least they weren’t going to fight again, Steve thought. He’d just have to explain it to Robin. Oh, Robin. “Just blinkered,” he groaned, fighting the urge to physically drop to the ground and curl into a ball.

“A little over-enthusiastic,” Eddie corrected. He smiled at Steve for a second and reached into his rucksack, beckoning Steve closer with a nod. “Come on, you need some after-sun, your nose is all red.”

Driving back, as the sky bloomed orange along the horizon, the sweet-smell of the cream Eddie had applied filled Steve’s senses and the rumbling of the truck along the road lulled him off to sleep. 

*

Telling Robin was horrible.

Steve couldn’t quite decide which part was worse. Was it the smile she’d sent him when he crept back into the apartment, letting him know how much better she felt while curled up on the couch with a large mug of tea? Was it the way she grimaced in sympathy when she spotted Steve’s dower demeanour? Or, was it even the way she just nodded along when Steve eventually spat it out, like perhaps she’d expected it all along?

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault, is it? You can’t help, you know, who falls in love with you or whatever.” Robin let out a laugh, one that was a little too bright to be entirely genuine. 

Steve winced. “She’s not in love with me,” he said, but Robin was already shaking her head.

“I didn’t even know that she was into guys. Says it all, doesn’t it? I don’t even know her, really.” She reached out across the couch cushions and squeezed Steve’s forearm. “Honestly, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

It was all awful. Steve was awful. He was an awful friend. 

Later, when Steve was scrolling through the photos he’d taken of the trip and laughing at Eddie’s increasingly sullen expression through the progression of the day, he looked up at the sound of Robin shuffling into the kitchen on socked feet. 

Her eyes were red-rimmed. 

She held up her phone to Steve, who managed to make out the Instagram home page before the screen went dark. 

“She deleted ‘Bird on the Street’,” Robin said, flatly.

Steve straightened where he was leaning against the counter. “Shit.”

“I don’t know why, I know you wouldn’t have lied about it, but -” Robin continued. She ran a hand across her face. “I don’t know, I guess I just thought that maybe you’d made a mistake and she - and she was actually doing it for me.” Her eyes were shining again and Steve went over to her, pulling her into an embrace. “But, no,” she squeaked. “None of it was.”

Was there really anything that Steve could say? Probably not. But he had to try, didn’t he? He was the one who started this whole mess. 

“I know you’re sad and this whole thing is shitty,” he said, pressing his face against Robin’s head, “but I’m serious, Vickie wasn’t the one for you anyway.”

“Steve -”

“No, I will not be taking feedback on this, Rob.” He leant back, meeting her eye. “I will, though, dig out the fanciest bottle of wine the kitchen has to offer and surrender complete control of the T.V.”

It seemed to do the trick. Robin laughed. It was spluttering and wet, but real. She wrinkled her nose and asked, “Does that mean we can finally watch The Mandalorian?”

The knot in Steve’s chest loosened. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “If that’s what it takes, I will watch your little alien-yoda show with you, yes.” He gave her a squeeze. “Because I love you and that’s what you deserve.”

Eventually, Robin nodded. “Yeah, alright,” she said, and smiled up at him before shoving her weight against him. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t what Steve deserved, but he’d take it, nonetheless.

Chapter Text

🦇 Eddie 🦇

Have you heard?

What?

🦇 Eddie 🦇

Vickie. She’s left.

Shit

When?

🦇 Eddie 🦇

At the weekend, Dustin said. 

Apparently she’s staying with her cousin or something for the rest of the summer.

She coming back?

🦇 Eddie 🦇

No idea.

She must’ve quit her job though.

Shiiiiiit

Should I message her?

No, she probably doesn’t want to speak to me

🦇 Eddie 🦇

I don’t know, man. Maybe just let it lie for a bit?

I feel like such a dick

🦇 Eddie 🦇

You’re not a dick. 

What were you going to do, pretend you have feelings for her?

THAT would be a dick move. 

Yeah, I guess

Just doesn’t feel great

🦇 Eddie 🦇

I just got off shift. Come over, we’ll get pizza.

Alright. I’ll get it on the way

BBQ?

🦇 Eddie 🦇

Forever and always 🤠

*

The back of Steve’s shirt was sticking to his skin by the time he made it to Dustin’s front door. He shifted the twelve-pack in his grip, trapping it between his hip and the door as he knocked. 

From the sound of it, the party was already in full swing, music permeating through the walls. Steve rolled his eyes. The neighbours must surely have been having the time of their lives with Dustin as a new tenant. 

The swung open and, just before Steve made to shove himself inside, his eyes landed on someone who was decidedly not Dustin Henderson. 

“Oh, shit, hi. Sorry, I must’ve -” He eye’d the shining metal plaque to the right of the door. It still read ‘128’. Definitely Dustin’s place. Steve licked his lips. “I’m Steve.”

Not-Dustin smiled. She was … petite. It was the first word that popped into Steve’s head. Short in stature, slim, but there was something else to it. The way she held herself, as if she intended to take up as little room as physically possible. It was quite a feat, considering how bright her smile was. Steve was sure it could light up a room if she really put her mind to it. 

“Steve, yeah,” she said, her blonde ponytail swaying as she nodded and stepped back. “Dusty said you were on the way. I’m Chrissy. Come in, come in.”

Stepping into the now-familiar apartment, Steve instantly recognised the muted chatter of Robin and Eddie. When he entered the kitchen the pair, along with Dustin, were crowded around Eddie’s phone. At the disturbance, they all looked up and Dustin beamed. “Steve! Finally!”  he cried. “We thought you’d gotten lost. I was about to call your mom.”

It was an old joke. Steve’s mom was infamous in the group for her very loose grip on what was going on in Steve’s life at any given time. Last year he’d gone to Europe for the summer and, on his return, his mom had inquired about his weekend in, ‘Montreal, was it, sweetie?’

“Yeah, well,” Steve sighed. “I left late because, you know. I didn’t want to come.”

Dustin snorted. “It’s all lies, Chris, he loves us.” Chrissy smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Chrissy’s my cousin,” Dustin explained. “She’s taking over the pull-out for the next few weeks until she can find her own place.”

Turning towards her, Steve grimaced (he’d lived with Dustin for years, he knew the horrors ahead for her) and she let out a lilting laugh; an angel getting its wings.

“I wanted to get a feel for the area first, you know,” Chrissy added. “I’ve not really visited the city a lot.”

“Oh, well, Robin’s pretty new, too.” Steve nodded at Robin, in her oversized rainbow sweater; unmissable, really. “She can tell you where to avoid.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve been talking,” Chrissy nodded. “So far all I’ve learned is that Eddie lives in the rough part of town.”

“It’s not rough,” Eddie whined. “If it was that bad, Steve would never visit. And he does, so.” The man shrugged, as if that answered everything.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Nah, it’s rough. You’ve just charmed me somehow. I think it’s the overwhelmingly nerdy aura, creates a false sense of security.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Eddie started, jumping up to sit on the countertop. Next to him, Robin pouted. “So, Dustin has attempted to cook lasagne. We’re currently sourcing some backup options.” He waved his phone in Steve’s direction. 

At that, Dustin objected, loudly and vigorously. “Hey, I can cook a fucking lasagne, thank you. Just because you have the culinary expertise of a chipmunk.”

Eddie scoffed. “Excuse you, I am a good cook …” 

Tuning out the argument (he’d heard similar, a hundred times before), Steve instead settled into a spot next to Robin with a smile and poured himself a drink.

It turned out that Eddie needn’t have worried; the lasagne was actually pretty decent. A little on the crispy side, but Steve had had worse. As the group of them scraped their plates clean, squeezed onto the couch and—in Eddie’s case—curled over on the floor, Steve lamented their dwindling numbers. 

Neither Vickie nor Nancy had come along. Vickie for obvious reasons—her move to the West Coast had made the rounds by now, along with the suspected cause, though thankfully Steve’s friends were employing a little discretion for once in their lives and not mentioning it—but Steve was surprised that Nancy hadn’t made an appearance. 

It’d been weeks, now, since her date with Robin. She’d said she was okay with it all, right? 

While Dustin loaded up Netflix, talking loudly about some movie he wanted them to watch, Steve turned to Robin. 

“No Nance,” he said under his breath, or, was he asking? He wasn’t sure. 

Either way, Robin shrugged. “Nope.” She paused for a moment, squirming in her seat and Steve got the distinct impression there was something more she wanted to say. A moment later, “It’s just, it’s been kind of awkward, you know, since Cedar Point,” poured from her mouth like a waterfall. 

“Since the whole thing with Vickie?” 

“I mean, I’m not blaming you,” Robin back-tracked. “Not at all, Jeez. Only that, it’s obvious now that I ditched her for no reason. I’m not sure I’m mature enough to deal with the consequences of my actions this time.” She winced and lamented, “I guess Nancy’s taking the high road.”

Steve hummed. “Fuck the high road,” he said, nudging Robin’s knee with his own. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hey,”—and he reached out his foot, knocking the edge of Eddie’s head—“what do we think of the high road, Ed?”

Even though Steve was pretty sure that Eddie was too busy chatting with Chrissy to have any clue what they were talking about, he dutifully responded, “It’s for martyrs. Us heathens are in the dirt, baby!” throwing in a pair of devil horns for good luck. 

Steve raised his eyebrows at Robin. See? She just rolled her eyes. 

“Aha!” 

Dustin’s loud voice broke through the chatter, and all of them jerked in their seats. “Found it,” the other man beamed. “You’re gonna love it. It’s about free diving.”

Free diving? Steve looked over to the screen, the entire thing filled with an image of someone, a tiny speck, diving down into the inky depths of the vast ocean. His palms were already sweating. 

“A documentary, oh, Jesus,” he groaned. “I need another drink for this. Anyone else?”

With creaking knees, Eddie pushed himself up, swearing lightly as he went. “Yeah, hang on.”

While Eddie pulled out a fresh beer from the fridge, Steve unscrewed a half-empty wine bottle.

“You gonna make it?” Eddie muttered. Steve didn’t need any further clarification; the other man knew all his weaknesses. 

Steve whined and dropped his forehead to the counter, hearing Eddie scoff at his dramatics. “Is it about someone dying?” he asked. “Can you look it up? Check Wikipedia or whatever.”

Eddie clicked his tongue as he scrolled down his phone screen. He winced. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s totally about someone dying.”

“Ugh.” 

Steve topped up his wine glass. 

As he was about to head back to the group, Eddie stopped him with a question. “What do you think about Chrissy?” he asked, leant on his elbow, hair falling into his eyes. 

“Chrissy? Yeah, she seems alright. A bit …” Steve trailed off. Eddie had a contemplative look on his face; he wasn’t sure his words would be welcomed. 

Of course, that wasn’t going to fly with Eddie, not for a second. “What?” he pushed.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “A bit stand-offish, maybe?”

As predicted, Eddie snorted, taking a swig of his beer. “She’s just shy, Steve.”

“She’s been talking with you fine.”

“Well, I have that nerdish charm, isn’t that what you said?” He grinned and Steve, very generously, stopped himself at just flicking his ear. “Get off.” Eddie swotted him away. He levelled Steve with A Look. “Not everyone can be as happy in a crowd as you. Give her half a second. She’s sweet. You’ll like her.”

And, it’s not like Steve necessarily disagreed. She did seem sweet, and nice, and cute as a button. There was just something about her, Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

“Will you two come on, we’re losing light, here!” Dustin yelled from the other room, voice travelling impressively well. 

“What, to watch a movie?” Steve called back, though he and Eddie shuffled back into the lounge as ordered and settled back into their spots. 

It was as the movie was coming to a close that a message pinged through on Chrissy’s phone. The noise seemed to be the last straw for Robin, who, on seeing the lit up screen, let out a small yell. 

“Is that your dog?” 

And, yeah, Steve would bite. He dropped his gaze to Chrissy’s phone where the other woman was holding it for Robin to see. The display picture was of a small dog. Steve wasn’t certain of the breed, it looked more like a mongrel, but perhaps there was a bit of terrier in there. In the snout, for sure. 

“Oh, my God, they’re the cutest little thing. What are they called?” Robin looked up at Chrissy with big, round eyes. Chrissy bit down on a smile. 

“Daisy,” she said. “I’ve got a load, help yourself.” And, in a move either outstandingly trusting or incredibly naïve, she handed Robin her phone. 

Immediately, Robin began scrolling back as Chrissy explained, “She’s the family dog. I was staying with my parents before, so I got to spend a bunch of time with her. I am kind of missing her, if I’m honest.”

Watching over Robin’s shoulder, Steve frowned as the images of Daisy were momentarily interrupted by a handful of pictures from a night out. Bowling, it looked like—a few pictures in a row of a group of around six people gathered together at the top of a lane. 

One of the faces looked familiar. 

“Hang on!” Steve rushed and Dustin glowered at him from the other end of the couch. “Sorry,” Steve whispered. “Hang on,” he repeated more quietly. “I know him, I think. I’ve matched with him. Is his name Daniel?”

A strange expression passed over Chrissy’s face. 

Jesus, please don’t let him be her boyfriend. Or her brother. 

“Daniel, yeah.”

“How do you know him? What’s he like?”

“Oh, I - I don’t know,” Chrissy replied, somewhat hesitantly. “He’s a friend of a friend, really. I didn’t really speak to him. He was fine, I guess. A bit vapid, perhaps. You know how guys are sometimes. Had a lot to say about the gym.”

Next to their legs, Eddie snorted. 

The sound drew Dustin out of his reverie. “Guys! Seriously!” he huffed, and they settled down. “This is the most important part!”

Even from the corner of his eye, Steve could tell Eddie was looking at him. He knew the exact expression on his face to boot—it would be that smug little smirk of his. Suit guy was just that, a suit and nothing more. 

Well, what did Eddie know? What did Chrissy know, for that matter? 

Steve was a fantastic judge of character, they could just wait and see. 

*

“Did you know that Chrissy sings?”

Steve set his empty glass down on the table. The morning was already well underway, the sound of rush hour traffic trundling along the road several stories below filling the air. The radio in the corner of the kitchen was left playing at such a low volume, Steve wondered whether Robin even knew it was on. 

“What?” he said, voice still thick and heavy from sleep. He shuffled towards the cupboard in search of his favourite mug. And coffee. Please, coffee. 

Robin didn’t bother looking up from her iPad. “Yeah, she sings. She’s got a TikTok where she posts all her covers that she does.”

It took a second for Steve to process the words. “Chrissy?” he said. “Like, Dustin’s cousin, Chrissy?”

“Yeah.” Robin did look up then, blinking flatly. “What other Chrissys do we know?”

“Can we say we ‘know’ Chrissy? More of a passing acquaintance at this point, no?”

Robin ignored him, so he turned his back, focusing on loading the right fucking pod in the coffee machine. The mechanical whirring filled his head for a while, like white noise. He could probably meditate to it, if he concentrated hard enough. 

“Did you used to do something like that? Eddie mentioned it.”

Steve slumped. She wasn’t dropping it, then. 

“Yeah, ages ago,” he sighed. He curled his hands around his mug and dropped down into his regular seat. “YouTube, though. It kinda died, I never had enough time to focus on it.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. Steve had had the time, he’d had a plan as well, but the crushing weight of reality—of the low viewership, the carelessly cruel comments, the constant comparisons to others who were taking off—had all been a little too much. So Steve had dropped it, claiming boredom, claiming disinterest, claiming other priorities. Really, of course, he just hadn’t wanted to fail. Jump before you’re pushed and all that. 

He’d never told anyone that, not even Eddie. And he wouldn’t be starting with Robin. 

“Here,” she said, pushing the iPad towards Steve. “Listen.”

On the small screen, Chrissy could be seen—guitar in hand, her hair in braids, and string lights hanging from the wall behind her—singing a gentle, acoustic version of ‘Dreams’ . The chat at the left of the screen came and went at a decent pace. Hearts popped up at a regularity that Steve had to assume was good.

“Shit,” he breathed. “She’s decent.”

She was. Smokey and deep and mysterious; miles apart from the woman that Steve had met the other day. Miles better than Steve had ever been. He swallowed around the other words on the tip of his tongue. 

“Right,” Robin agreed, brightly. “Eddie was talking about getting her to record something with his band.”

“What?” Steve frowned at that. “But -” He cut himself off. 

Concern danced behind Robin’s eyes. “You don’t think he should?” she said before slumping down in her chair and biting down on the nail of her index finger. “I suppose the styles are pretty different.”

That hadn’t been what Steve had been thinking at all. His mind had been flung back to a lazy Sunday morning, so many years ago. To Steve asking with a carefully crafted casualness whether Corroded Coffin would ever consider a guest vocalist. To Eddie snorting, not bothering to look his way, and saying without a second’s thought, ‘Nah. We don’t collab. Gotta keep that artistic vision, you know.’

Steve cleared his throat. “No,” he said. “I mean. Eddie and the guys, they’re pretty diverse with their style. I just didn’t think - Eddie’s always been cagey about collaborating.”

If Robin found the idea odd at all, she didn’t show it. She just hummed and clicked onto the next video. “Maybe he was just waiting for the right person,” she offered.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “Yeah, maybe.”

*

The salon was slowly emptying out at the end of the day, and yet, Steve was still trapped, waiting for Robin to decide if she wanted her new bangs left straight, or softened out. 

“Can I pull off straight bangs? I think they look cool, but also, too edgy, maybe? Like they make me seem like you’ve no idea what I might do at any given moment, which is, like, cool, but also scary. Like Uma Thurman in that film. You know, that one with the colours.”

Steve blinked, pushing himself up from where he’d been leant against the back of Robin’s salon chair, eyes glazed over as he stared at her in the mirror. 

He wrinkled his nose. “Are you talking about ‘Reservoir Dogs’?”

Clicking her thumb and middle finger, Robin beamed. “Yeah!”

It was all that Steve could do just to shake his head and laugh at his friend. 

“Uma Thurman wasn’t in that,” he said. “You mean ‘Pulp Fiction’.”

“Whatever, same thing.”

“I can hear Eddie rolling in his grave.”

A crease appeared in Robin’s forehead as she said, baffled, “He’s not dead.”

“He could be,” Steve responded, darkly. “You saying that might’ve killed him.”

The bell above the door jingled and, just as Steve was preparing to politely usher whoever it was out as fast as humanly possible, he stopped in his tracks, getting to work instead on masking a grimace. 

Nancy was lingering around the front desk. 

She hadn’t seen Robin yet; Steve could spot the precise moment she did, however. The friendly smile on her face froze, suddenly plastered on in a strange facsimile of happy. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” he heard Robin mutter under her breath before he gave the back of her chair a clap and stepped away.

Over his shoulder Steve said, “Rob, you’re keeping the straight bangs. You’re right, it makes you look like you could kill a man if you had to and I dig it.” He clicked his fingers and pivoted into what he hoped was a winning smile. “Nancy Wheeler, the one and only. How can I help you today?”

Arriving at the front desk, he headed to the furthest side, and wondered how his life had reached this point where he was having to physically stand between two of his friends to relieve the profoundly awkward tension. 

Of course, Nancy could tell what he was doing, though thankfully didn’t call him out. “Hi,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Steve clicked his tongue and said, in a teasing voice, “You might be sorry, I am very grateful. It was getting painful over there.”

The false smile widened, just a little. “I needed a refill of the curl cream you gave me last time.”

“Sure, of course. It’s good stuff.”

“Yeah.”

Clearing his throat, Steve ducked down to rifle through their stock drawers. 

“It was the KMS, right?”

“Yeah.”

Resurfacing, he rang her up. God, just kill him now. 

“How are you, anyway?” he asked, fiddling with putting the small bottle in a paper bag. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“I’m good.” Nancy nodded. She was wearing a pair of long, dangling earrings, with small wooden flowers hanging at the bottom. They reminded Steve of something Robin would wear. “Really. Just, busy at work.”

“Sure.” He held out the card machine for her. “Well, when things lighten up, give us a call.”

It was then that Steve felt—because he absolutely felt it, rather than heard it; Robin had a certain vibrating energy to her sometimes—Robin come to stand behind his shoulder. When he peered behind him he could see the dazzled, wide-eyed expression she wore. Jesus wept, she still had her fucking gown on. 

“I will, yes. I will do that,” Nancy responded, distractedly. Her eyes had already travelled over to the other woman. “Hi, Robin.”

“Hey, Nancy,” Robin breathed.

“I like you hair -”

“Your shoes are cute -”

They spoke over the top of one another and both laughed, stiltedly. Steve longed for the ground to swallow him whole. 

At last—after an extended moment where Robin and Nancy just seemed to stare at each other, Steve thought perhaps he had gone deaf—Nancy muttered, “I’ll, um, leave you guys to it. Thanks, Steve. Say hello to the others for me.”

She grabbed her small bag and turned towards the door. 

Steve immediately sent Robin an accusatory look. It didn’t have much of an affect, the woman simply stood there, looking longing at Nancy’s retreat back. ‘Say something!’ Steve mouthed at her, waving his hand towards the door. 

For a second, Robin just scrunched up her face. Was she going to cry? No! No, she was moving, she was running around the side of the desk, she was -

“Wait, Nance!”

“Yes?”

Like if she’d been waiting for a reason to stop, Nancy spun on her feet, her eyes fixed on Robin, brows raised in a question. 

As for Robin, well—Robin remained silent. Astronomically silent. Painfully silent.

With a disappointed sigh, Nancy dropped her shoulders and left, the sound of the bell jingling in her wake.

In the empty salon, Steve’s words seemed to grow to epic proportions. “Well, that was dire.”

Robin let out a wavering groan and rounded on him. “I’m gonna go after her,” she said.

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Okay, I believe you.”

“I’m gonna -”

“Go, Robin!” Steve laughed. “And give me that.” He tugged the gown away from her neck.

She winced and screeched, “Shit,” before launching herself out of the door. 

The scene played out on the other side of the salon window like a movie. Steve watched; a rapt audience. 

It seemed to start off okay. Nancy hadn’t gotten far, her expression when Robin called out to her hopeful still. In typically Robin fashion, as soon as she began to speak, her arms came out to wave about in front of her. Nancy’s smile fell away.

“Damn it,” Steve muttered under his breath. If only he could lip read. What was that Robin was saying? Why was she pointing at the paper bag?

The pair nodded at each other, waved and, well - That was certainly not the rousing reunion that Steve had been anticipating. He schooled his face into something politely curious as Robin returned, looking as sad and dejected as a sodden cat. 

Steve almost didn’t want to ask. No. That was a lie. Of course he did. 

“What did you say?”

With a sigh, Robin prostrated herself across the front desk and whined, “I told her to make sure she used the curl cream on damp hair, not wet.”

“Robin,” Steve groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Why? If nothing else, that’s just plain bad advice.”

“I know! I know, alright,” she cried, looking up at him with wounded-puppy eyes. “I’m a disaster and I deserve to end up alone.”

And, okay, Steve enjoyed a bit of drama, but not at the expense of his friends’ wellbeing. He pulled her up by her elbows. “No, come on, alright, we can salvage this,” he said, forcing a thread of positivity into his voice. “You’ve not done anything you can’t come back from.”

At that, Robin scoffed. “Did you not see?” she said and waved half-heartedly towards the window. The scene of the crime. 

Oh, yes. Steve had seen, alright.

He tried a different tack.

“You know, one time Eddie got so nervous before a date that he pre-gamed a little too hard and called her ‘Lee’ the entire night. Lee was absolutely not her name, her name was Nita. Lee was the name of the dude he dated in college.” Robin pulled a face. Confident still, Steve concluded with a flourish, “But, you know what? She still asked him to go home with her.”

Rather than drawing hope from the story, Robin’s disgusted expression only deepened.

“I think that story is more depressing than you believe it to be,” she said, eyeing Steve warily. “That girl clearly had some self-esteem issues.”

Steve groaned. “Yes! Probably! That’s not the point, Robin. What I’m saying is that we have a tonne we can work with here, okay?” He let out a soft breath, feeling the muscles of his cheeks soften as he looked at Robin’s downturned lips and glassy eyes. “Besides,” he nudged her arm, “you wont end up alone. You’ll have me.”

It had, at last, been the right thing to say. Steve felt something warm and fuzzy unfurl inside his chest as a small smile tugged at Robin’s features. “Thanks, Steve,” she muttered, quietly.

And, it was funny, really. Steve hadn’t really had a friendship like the one he had with Robin before. He had Eddie, of course, but that was different. That was - That was Eddie. And Dustin had always been more of a little brother to him. It was with a mild sense of alarm that it dawned on Steve just how much he wanted Robin to be happy. 

He cleared his throat and let out a gruff, “Okay, good talk,” that his dad would have been proud of, before standing up straight and clicking his fingers towards the back of the salon where Robin had left her bag. “Get your shit. We’ve got some planning to do.”

Watching as Robin scrambled away with a bitten down grin, Steve nodded to himself. 

This was good. Great, even. Planning. Perhaps, finally, he would even get a chance to redeem himself.  

*

As with all great plans, it took a few days to pull it together.

A few days full of Eddie, peering over Steve and Robin’s shoulders, moaning at Steve’s elaborate complexities. 

“Just say fucking 'sorry', maybe?” he spluttered in one moment of particular exasperation. 

“It’s not as simple as that, Edward,” Steve snapped from where he lay splayed out on the floor, head bent next to Robin’s. He peered upwards as Eddie’s answering huff floated through the apartment. The other man was dressed up today, Steve noted, his t-shirt fitting closely against his broad shoulders, neck glittering with a plethora of necklaces. He pouted. “What are you even doing here?”

Eddie’s glare honed in on him, like a fighter jet. “‘What am I -?’” he squawked. “You invited me! You said we were going to try that new coffee shop on the corner!”

And, yes, that did sound familiar. “Oh, yeah,” Steve said, drawing the word out. Coffee really would hit the spot now. “My wallet’s on the sideboard. Could you get me a latte?”

“Do I look like your butler?”

“Please?” Steve tried. He was pushing it, he knew, but Eddie was a soft touch. “I’m redirecting all my energy to my brain; I’m weak and weary.”

“Fuck me,” Eddie sighed, his hands on his hips, eyes fluttering closed as he lifted his gaze to the ceiling. Steve liked to think he was recalling all the times that Steve had offered him help in the past. After a moment, he strode over to the sideboard and picked up Steve’s wallet. “Robin?”

“Americano, please, Eddie,” Robin chimed in, baring her teeth in a wide smile. “Thank you!”

“Yeah, thanks, Eddie!” Steve echoed, as the door closed behind him. 

There was a beat where the apartment was filled with a buzzing quiet, the muffled sounds of Eddie’s footsteps rushing down the stairs (always rushing, as if he was being chased) permeating through the walls. 

“You should be nicer to him, you know,” Robin started. 

Steve looked up. She was still staring down at her phone, chewed up pen balanced between her fingers. 

“I’m nice to him,” Steve said, baffled. “I’m the nicest to him, he’s my best friend. He knows I don’t mean it.”

At that, Robin met his eye. “As long as you’re sure. I like Eddie.”

“I like Eddie,” Steve said and his voice took on a strained, nasally quality. “That’s why I’m friends with him.”

Robin laughed. “Good. Why are you getting all defensive?”

In the same pitchy tone, Steve responded, “I don’t know!” He could feel his neck heating up. Why on earth -? “Alexa!” He called out. “Play ‘Post Workout’.”

‘Playing ‘Post Workout’,’ the electronic voice replied, as the opening chords of 'Myself'  started in the background. 

Steve stuck his tongue out at Robin, who rolled her eyes and went back to chewing on the end of her pen.

In the end, it actually was as simple as saying sorry. 

“I still think we should have gone with the boom-box. It would’ve been satirical. Nancy’s smart, she likes ironic shit,” Steve grumbled, as the two of them sat in Steve’s car, watching as Robin approached the door of Nancy’s apartment complex. 

Before vanishing beyond the door, she sent the two of them a nervous wave. Steve waved back, fingers crossed; Eddie sent a thumbs up. 

“Irony has no place in an apology, Steven, you can jot that one down for later,” the other man replied, settling himself further down in the passenger seat. 

He let out a heavy sigh. 

“You alright?” Steve asked, brow pinched. “You look tired.”

Eddie let out a bright laugh. “I look like shit, you mean,” he said, grinning over at Steve.

“No. If I thought you looked like shit I would’ve said so.”

Outside the sun was peeking out from behind dissipating clouds, gilding everything it touched in gold. Eddie’s smile was orange and rich in the light. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he dismissed. “It was a long shift yesterday and then I had band practice after.”

There was part of Steve that knew Eddie wasn’t being entirely honest. Knew that there was something Eddie wasn’t telling him. It had been that way for a while now. But Steve—no matter what Robin said—was a good friend; he’d let Eddie confide in him in his own time.

“How’s the new set coming along?” he asked, watching while Eddie fiddled with the radio, flicking through the stations until he found one he liked. Steve didn’t recognise the song, but, then, he never really did when it came to Eddie.

“Good,” the other man answered. “Great, actually. We’ve booked a slot at the River Fest.”

“No shit, that’s awesome.” Steve sat back in his seat, giving Eddie a good look up and down. He seemed uncharacteristically bashful, fiddling with his rings and Steve clapped him hard on the shoulder, cackling as he shoved him. “You deserve it, man. Send me the dates, I’ll make sure to get them off.”

“Thanks,” Eddie replied. He was rubbing at his shoulder, but, still, biting down on a beaming grin. “Yeah, I will.”

Passing the time in the car, the pair of them chatted back and forth, fought over the radio, and speculated together on the private lives of strangers walking down the street. It was just as Eddie got into the origin of Mister Mustard-Corduroys-in-Summer’s torrid affair with his son’s school teacher, that the door to Nancy’s apartment block was flung open once more. 

“Oh, shit, eyes up,” Eddie interrupted himself and the two of them watched as Robin stalked over to the car. 

She didn’t look sad, but then, Steve noted with a gnawing hesitance, she didn’t look overwhelmingly happy either. 

When she dropped down into the back of the car, Eddie turned bodily in his seat, kneeling on the leather, to ask, “So?”

Silence as Robin bit her lip.

Eddie groaned. “Robin, the tension is killing me here.”

She shrugged. “We made up.”

What the hell did that mean, Steve thought. He shared a look with Eddie. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” Robin started, shuffled to the edge seat by the window and pulled the seatbelt across her body, “that we’re friends again.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah, friends.”

“Just friends?” Steve didn’t look away from her. If he stared hard enough, he wondered if he could perhaps read her mind, because, what on earth was she going on about?

“Yeah,” Robin repeated. “Just friends.”

This was just too much for Steve. “But - But, romance!” he cried. “Dating, getting married, having babies!?”

Next to him, Eddie let out a quiet, “Je-sus, Steve.”

And, alright, yeah, maybe he was going a little too far, but - but, come on! Hadn’t that been the point? The whole plan was about getting Robin and Nancy on the road to coupledom. Steve was a matchmaker, it was what he did, but he needed a little buy in from those he was matching. Not much, but something, at least. 

“Look,” Robin said, almost staring Steve down. Her hair was sticking up at her temple, he noticed, as if she’d been running her hands through it. “I messed up, okay, so I’m saving what I can. Friendship will do, I don’t want to risk pushing it.”

It was still ridiculous, but he could see she was not to be moved. “That’s such bullshit,” Steve huffed, slumping back in his seat. 

Next to him, Eddie sent her a weak smile. Too sad of a gesture to have Steve feeling reassured. “No, no, I get it. Some things are more important.”

Steve stared, gaze flicking between their two resolute faces. He shook his head and sighed, pushing his hair away from his face. 

“I don’t understand you people.” 

In his despair, he almost didn’t notice his phone buzzing on the dash. Almost. 

Daniel 💯🔥

you’re in chicago still right?

think i’m heading your way soon - free to meet up? 😈

“Oh, shit.”

“What?” Eddie asked. There was a dubious curl to his lips, like he didn’t actually want to know.

“Suit guy’s coming to town.” 

From the back, Robin shifted closer, peering over Steve’ seat to get a look at his phone screen. “Suit guy?”

“Daniel,” Steve replied distractedly. What should he write back? “This guy I matched with.”

Robin let out a whistle. “Oooh, get it, Steve,” she said and shoved his shoulder. 

Steve tried not to blush. Instead he gnawed on his lip as he typed out a response, ignoring the way he could feel Eddie’s eyes on him as he thought out the words.

Yeah, for sure. Let me know dates

He turned the phone to Eddie, eyebrows raised; a wordless ‘what do you think?’ Eddie shrugged and let out a small grunt.

That would have to do. 

“Okay,” he breathed. “Sent.”

How long would Daniel be in town for, he wondered. Just for one date? Or maybe a few weeks? Maybe he was moving here? Steve would have to think of a whole bunch of options for dates. He’d have to buy a couple of new outfits at least. Shit, maybe he should book in a facial. 

“Alright, Casanova,” Robin called out, dropping back into her seat and clicking her seatbelt into place. “Drive! We still have get groceries, the refrigerator is in a fucking depressing state.”

With one final look at Nancy’s apartment block, Steve pulled away, his mind filled with possibilities. 

Eddie didn’t say a single thing about it. 

*

“I think you know a friend of mine. Or, friend of a friend, I guess.”

They were at a restaurant downtown that Steve had never visited before (Daniel had assured him it was the best in the city, though precisely how he knew that, Steve still hadn’t determined). The atmosphere was friendly, though; cosy and charming and comforting. Upon arrival, Steve had headed straight towards one of the corner booths and had curled himself towards the middle. The view of the rest of the restaurant was a banquet for the senses; the other patrons, families and couples and groups of friends laughing together; the wait staff rushing this way and that, trays of drinks in hand and armfuls of plates; and the kitchen beyond, in the corner, an echoing buzz reaching out beyond, bursts of fire and clanging and clattering all mixed together. 

On the other side of the table, Daniel lifted a brow. “Sounds ominous,” he replied, teasingly gently. He had a nice voice, Steve had come to find. A soft and unhurried cadence that seemed to slow down time whenever he spoke. “What have they said about me? Good things I hope.”

Steve shrugged a shoulder. “She was very elusive. Chrissy Cunningham. Do you remember her?”

“Chrissy Cunningham.” Daniel’s forehead pinched, the tip of his lip running against the bottom of his teeth. “Yes, yes I think so. Short, blonde girl?”

“Uhuh.”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” he repeated. “A friend of a friend?”

“Cousin of my ex-roommate.”

“Small world,” Daniel smiled. He looked back down to the menu and Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. 

There, he thought. He barely even remembered her. Why had he been so hesitant to bring it up? “Yeah,” Steve sighed, chuckling now at his own shyness. “Isn’t it just?”

It was their third date in two weeks and Steve was - Well, he’d make no bones about it—he felt great. 

Daniel was more substantial in real life. He seemed more genuine, more thoughtful, a more fully-realised person than the man-child that Steve had been starting to worry he might be. 

As Daniel—with his expensive shirt and neatly trimmed hair—began what Steve was sure would be a funny story, given the way he kept tripping over his words to push down a laugh, Steve leant back, content to revel in his words. 

Perhaps, he thought, this really was going to be the beginning of something rather grand.

The next day Steve was waiting outside Eddie’s apartment door, jacket long ago abandoned on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him as he tackled the next level of Color Road on his phone, when the distant sound of footsteps was followed up by mumbled cursing. 

“Shit, shit, sorry,” Eddie huffed out, racing up the stairs and wincing when he spotted Steve. 

Steve, for his part, was not feeling particularly magnanimous about it. “And where have you been?” he said, shuffling out of the way to let Eddie unlock the door. “We said ten. I’ve been waiting here like a chump for, like, three hours.”

“Three hours?” Eddie scoffed, any remorse already beginning to evaporate. 

“Maybe!”

“Well, your majesty,” he bowed deeply as he pushed the door open, waving Steve through, “please forgive me.” He lifted up a small carrier bag. “I had to go and get milk.”

Eddie’s apartment was smaller than Steve’s, but then, it had only ever been Eddie living there. It was true what Chrissy had said the other day, Steve didn’t love coming to this part of town, but once he was inside, it was better. Eddie had a knack for, well, it wasn’t homely, that wasn’t really the right word. But individual. Personal. Familiar, perhaps. All that to say, whenever Steve stepped over the threshold, he always felt the muscles in his back loosen, the noise in his head would quieten, the buzzing throughout his body would be doused by the squishy couch cushions, crammed shelves and soft rugs. 

“Is that a new tattoo?” he asked, watching as Eddie put away the few groceries he’d arrived with. When he’d reached up to replace a box of cereal, his shirt sleeve had fallen back to reveal a pirate flag on the inside of his wrist. 

Looking down to where Steve had nodded, Eddie hummed. “It’s not real. Chrissy got some free kit or whatever. Didn’t want to use the skull and crossbones on herself.”

“Neat,” Steve said and, shit, he sounded so insincere. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You and Chrissy have been hanging out?”

“Yeah. She’s nice. And you’re busy these days.” And Eddie stuck a tongue out at him.

Steve snorted. “Oh, please.”

Smirking, Eddie leant against the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “So, we doing this, or what?”

The ‘this’ referred to manual labour, which, naturally, Eddie required Steve’s assistance for, or it would be left for another four months. The pair of them had, in fact, bought Eddie’s “new” bookcase together, when it had still been cold and drizzling outside. In the time since, Eddie seemed to have moved the box from its spot in the hallway to a different spot, leaning against the wall outside the bathroom. No matter. That was what Steve was for. 

It was as they were checking through the nuts and screws that Steve asked, lightly, “Do you like Chrissy, then?”

Eddie frowned at him over the top of the flimsy instruction pamphlet. “Yeah, ‘course,” he said, suspiciously. “What are you - No.” He raised his finger. “Steve, stop thinking. I can see cogs whirling in your head.”

“I wasn’t!” And, actually, he hadn’t been. It hadn’t even occurred to him to help any kind of relationship between the two of them bloom. “You’ve just been single for a while,” he muttered.

“So have you.”

Steve narrowed his lips. “Maybe not for much longer,” he said, primly.

Eddie dropped his hands to his lap. “You’re actually serious about this guy? For real?”

“We’ll see.” If it had been Robin, or even Dustin, Steve would have gone into much greater detail. Had, even, with both of them. With Eddie, though, he had skirted around the issue. Was it lying by omission? No. Eddie knew he’d been going on dates with Daniel. Just, Steve didn’t feel like any further discussion of the topic would have been well-received. “I know you don’t like him,” he said, sounding sorry for himself.

And, yes, Eddie picked up on it. He let out a long sigh. “I - No,” he said plainly. “I don’t.” He licked his lips and shook, dropping his gaze back to the instructions. “I’m not interested in anything at the moment.”

Letting the conversation be redirected, Steve groaned, “Boring,” before looking over to his friend. It was odd; Eddie was, objectively, a good looking guy. He was funny and smart, and kind. Why wasn’t he dating anybody? “Not even anything casual?” Steve asked. “You could do it. You’re charming. I was telling Robin about that Nita girl the other day. The one you kept calling your ex’s name.”

Eddie let out a despairing groan. “No! Stop telling people about that.” He threw a bag of wooden dowels at Steve, though it missed his head by a good six inches.

“It’s funny,” Steve insisted. “But, I mean, you know. If you wanted -”

“I don’t want,” Eddie interjected and, actually, he looked serious. Steve stopped short as Eddie rubbed at his face and sighed. “Besides, that - I didn’t even - You don’t even know the whole story.”

“I don’t? What? Have you been lying to me?” Steve gasped, sending the other man an over-the-top wounded expression.

“I - Ugh.” Eddie grimaced. “I - We didn’t even sleep together.”

“What?” 

The revelation did, in fact, take Steve by surprise. He’d ribbed Eddie for months after that night. It wasn’t like him to just allow himself to get so thoroughly rinsed for no reason. 

“We got to hers and I - Man, I was so drunk, I don’t know - I had to run to her bathroom as soon as we got there and was puking for, like, five solid minutes. It was gross.” Eddie’s eyes were wide and baleful when they met Steve’s. “And she was very nice and let me sleep it off in her guest room, before booking a cab for me at, like, half seven the next morning. So.” He shrugged.

Steve took a moment to let himself process this sorry turn of events. “Rob was right,” he said, somewhat dimly, “that is a sad story.”

“Shut your face. I didn’t want to go home with her anyway. I didn’t even want to go on a date with her.”

“Then why did you?”

“‘Cause you set me up!” Eddie retorted. He waved his hand at Steve, almost accusatorially. “You were all excited about it, I don’t know. I just -” He slumped and, in as close of a whine as Eddie Munson ever came, asked, “Don’t do it again, will you? Not right now, there’d be no point.”

‘There’d be no point.’ What was Steve supposed to make of that? 

He shifted, tapping his fingers against the edge of the open box between them, and said, slowly, “I just want you to find someone. I want you to be happy.”

Holding his gaze, Eddie replied, simply, “I am happy. I don’t need anyone else.” He smiled a soft smile. One that showed off his dimples and his twinkling eyes. “I promise.”

Steve was not entirely convinced. “Pinky promise?” he asked, holding out his hand. 

“Pinky promise,” the other man repeated, linking their pinky fingers together in a solemn vow.

The two of them grinned at each other, quiet and soft.

“Come on,” Eddie groaned, rising to his feet and pulling Steve up with him. “We’ll be here all day if we don’t actually start building this thing.”

And with that, Steve picked up a screwdriver and listened, rapt, as Eddie read out the instructions. 

Chapter Text

The summer rain that had started yesterday evening had all but finished by the time it came to leave for Dustin’s birthday party, but Steve was still racing around his apartment trying desperately to remember where he’d hidden the kid’s present. 

It had been a good hiding place—it had had to be, Dustin was absurdly good at sniffing things out, even when he wasn’t trying to—and Steve hadn’t wanted him to ruin the surprise if he’d swung by. 

“Damn it,” he hissed under his breath, closing the cabinet doors with more force than was entirely necessary.

Not under the sink, then.

Where the fuck - 

The buzzer sounded at that moment and Steve raised his head above the parapet of the kitchen counter; a meerkat caught unaware. It couldn’t be that time already, surely? 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered as he scrambled towards the intercom by the door. He pressed the speaker button. “Hi?”

“It’s me,” came Eddie’s voice, tinny and—did he sound annoyed?

“Eddie?” Steve replied. “Why didn’t you just come up?”

“I found, er — Daniel, right?” Eddie’s voice quietened at the end, as if he’d turned his head away from the intercom.

Then, in a voice Steve was becoming more familiar with, came a faint, “Hey, Stevie.” Oh, crap. That was Daniel. How could Steve have forgotten?  

“ — Yeah, I found Daniel outside,” Eddie finished, and Steve didn’t need any help picking up on the undercurrent of displeasure rapidly overtaking the other man’s tone. 

Steve groaned, running his hand over his face. “Shit, yeah. He’s picking me up. Come on in, I’m running late.”

He buzzed them up.

“Hey, babe,” Daniel greeted, his large frame filling up the doorway. Steve had to lift himself up onto his toes to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Hey,” Steve echoed somewhat distractedly. He grimaced at Eddie when the other man stepped out from behind Daniel’s shadow. “Sorry, Ed, I forgot you’d offered me a ride.”

There was a sharp edge to his smile when Eddie shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “No worries. Stevie.” Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the hell must have happened while the two of them were waiting. Eddie’s gaze travelled over the chaotic landscape. “Decluttering?” he said, innocently.

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve huffed and turned back to the mess he currently called an apartment. “I can’t find Dustin’s present. It’s in the apartment somewhere.”

Standing in the middle of the lounge, Daniel set his hands on his hips and asked, brightly, “Well, where did you last have it?”

“I reckon that if he knew that, he wouldn’t be looking for it, would he?” Eddie piped up, sending him a flash of smile. Not one flicker of it was genuine.

Ordinarily, Steve might have given Eddie an admonishing glare but, right then, he didn’t have the patience for it. Instead, he just groaned. “I was hiding it.”

Daniel clicked his tongue. “On top of the wardrobe, bound to be. That’s where I always hide things.” 

“I know where to look when I rob you, now,” Eddie breathed. 

Waving towards the couch, Steve bit down on a growl. “You two go sit down, I’ll be, like, five minutes, tops.”

As the pair of them settled back against the cushions, Steve narrowed his eyes on his next target: the drawers at the bottom of the bookcase next to the television. He hardly ever went in those—that was where he kept new batteries and old chargers and random adaptors for items he no longer owned—a perfect place to secret something away.

He dived in, listening to the stilted conversation going on behind him.

“So, Doctor Munson, right?” Daniel started. “Steve tells me you work in the ER. That must be rough.”

“Mister Munson. I mean -” Eddie cut himself off with a small laugh. Steve bit down one of his own. Mister Munson, indeed. “Eddie,” the man corrected.

“Ah, so a surgeon, then?”

“Nurse,” Eddie replied, tersely. Steve wrinkled his nose, suddenly glad not to be part of the conversation. “You, er -” Eddie cleared his throat. “What do you do?”

“Finance,” Daniel said. 

Steve reached into the back of the shelf. Was that -? No. Just a hard drive. Goddamnit. 

“Finance?” Eddie echoed. “Just, ‘finance’?” And Steve could just imagine the look on his face. The kind of look that he gave Steve if he needed saving whenever the two of them were out at a club or a bar. The one that said, ‘What the hell is this fucking dude saying to me right now?’

As Steve huffed—the next shelf down coming up blank, too—Daniel let out a chuckle. “Well, I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details. It can get a bit technical.”

“Uhuh, yeah, I bet. How’s it going, Steve?”

“Not good.” With a sigh, Steve rose to his feet and promptly dropped his head into his hands, letting out a hollow yell. 

Laughing, Eddie asked, “What is it, that you’re looking for?”

“It’s a book. Some lame ass dude, I don’t know. Dustin was going on about it a couple of months ago. I found a signed copy for him. Physics, some shit.”

“If you ignore the complete disinterest you’ve displayed there, that actually sounds very thoughtful.” The other man frowned and stood up, surveying the apartment with narrowed eyes. “Book,” he said, thoughtfully. “Book, book, book. Hmm.”

“Did you check on top of the wardrobe?” Daniel offered.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I did, before. No luck. I think I might have to …” but he was distracted by Eddie Munson, poised like some kind of lion-tamer, tip-toeing through the lounge into the kitchen area, arms stretching out in front of him and a serious expression on his face. 

“I’m Steve Harrington,” he said in … some kind of voice. Attenborough, perhaps? “I’m trying to hide a book. Somewhere bored and idle hands won’t find it.”

As the other man crept into Steve’s bedroom, Steve snorted. “Oh, shit, he’s going full Sherlock.” 

Next to him, Daniel was staring, one of his neat eyebrows raised. “Is - Is he always like this?”

“Yes,” Steve answered, honestly. “Pretty much. Hey,” and he turned towards the man, “thank you for coming along today. You’ll have a great time, I’m sure.”

“Of course I will. It’s a party, right? I’m great at parties.”

Steve hummed. He wasn’t entirely sure that Daniel had the right idea in mind with a Dustin Henderson party but, if nothing else, he’d get the message soon. And, it couldn’t be ignored, he’d certainly put the effort in. With a vintage-looking knitted polo, a definitely expensive-as-hell watch and—were they Thom Brown shoes?—Steve was sure that Daniel would go down a treat, even if he didn’t quite meet the Munson standard. 

“Aha!”

Speaking of. 

“You found it?” Steve called, rushing towards the bedroom, Daniel at his heel. “No way.” 

They were met with Eddie, standing on Steve’s bed, his feet directly where Steve rested his head. Steve wrinkled his nose. Eddie, however, was grinning. 

“You feeling lucky, Harrington?” he asked, and tapped his finger against the metal cover of an air vent, set back into the wall high up near the ceiling. 

“Are you?” Steve retorted. 

Eddie smirked and, keeping his eyes on Steve—as if somehow this was a game that he was going to win—flipped the vent open and reached inside. After a moment’s rummaging he pulled his arm free and with it -

“Pre-wrapped and everything,” Eddie quipped, jumping down off the bed and pushing the dust-covered and book-shaped present against Steve’s chest. He winked and Steve rolled his eyes at the performance.

“Thank you,” he said. “I thought I was losing my mind.”

“No worries,” Eddie replied. He clapped Daniel against his (very muscular) arm. “Come on Finance, you know where you’re going, right? No? That’s alright, you can follow me. I’ll drive slow.”

*

The party itself was being held at Nancy’s place, further away from the heart of the city. Nancy—being the sole member of the group that Steve considered to be a True Adult—was the only one of them with a proper yard and, as Dustin had declared a few weeks ago when planning the event, you couldn’t really have a cookout inside, especially not when it was this sunny.

“Welcome to the suburbs.” 

Ahead of them on the sidewalk, Eddie stretched his arms above his head, groaning like an old man after a long road trip. He squinted against the sun, grinning over at Steve as he and Daniel approached. 

“See if we can find you a nice little Stepford wife, hey, Eddie?” Daniel teased. 

It was truly impressive, Steve thought, precisely how much meaning Eddie could convey with the smallest twitch of his eyebrow. Oh, Steve fucking loved pissed Eddie. “I’m gay,” he responded, flatly.

Daniel frowned. “Nah, I thought Steve said you were into both. Not fussy, am I right?” he laughed, before clapping Eddie on the arm and sauntering up the path to Nancy’s front door.

It was with a look of pure desperation that Eddie turned to Steve. “Dude,” he said, with feeling.

“Leave him alone. He’s being friendly,” Steve retorted, without bite, and lightly shoved Eddie forwards by his shoulders. “And you’re bisexual, don’t lie. Words mean things.”

“Maybe to you,” Eddie grumbled. “Ugh. ‘Friendly’. Is that what it is?” He pulled a face at Steve; pained and perhaps a little self-pitying. “I don’t think I've ever encountered this version of it before.”

Steve didn’t dignify that with a response.

In the sunshine, Nancy’s backyard looked almost idyllic. She had, of course, decked the entire thing out with everything that they might need. There was the grill area, which Dustin had already taken over, it seemed, as well as a music station and make-shift dance floor, and a bunch of cushions and bean bags dragged outside that Steve knew were normally piled up in the lounge. The string lights that had been hung along the fence weren’t turned on yet, but Steve knew that they’d look perfect when the sun started to set.

As they entered through the side gate, Dustin waved them over. 

“Finally,” he whined. 

“Relax,” Steve shot back, though he still pulled him into a warm hug. “We’re like five minutes late.”

Standing guard next to the speakers, Steve was pleased to see Robin and Nancy chatting. Their stances may have been a little awkward, sure (Steve was convinced that that Robin was going to break the clasp on her bracelet, worrying it like that), but he’d take what he could get at this point. 

There was a small cough next to him and Steve turned to find Daniel smiling serenely at him. His eyes flicked towards Dustin. Oh, yeah, shit. Steve jumped into action. “Daniel, this is Dustin.” In a stage whisper he added, “I’m, like, ninety-nine percent certain that he’s an actual goblin,” to which Dustin proved his point by sticking out his tongue. Steve snickered, ruffling his hair, before nodding towards Chrissy, who was lingering silently at Dustin’s side. “And, this lovely creature is Chrissy.”

“Wonderful to meet you both,” Daniel replied, a charming smile working its way across his face. 

Steve preened. This was going to go so well.

After the ice had been broken and everyone had a drink in hand, Robin turned the music up louder. The sun shone brighter in the sky, not a single cloud to be seen and Steve, Daniel, Nancy and Chrissy were laid haphazardly across the bean bags, watching as Dustin, Eddie and Robin remained at the music station, arguing—Steve was absolutely certain—about the playlist. 

“Chrissy,” Nancy piped up, seeming more at ease now. In fact, this was perhaps the most cheerful Steve had seen her in months. “What a beautiful necklace. Is that a garnet?”

Gaze following Nancy’s, Steve spotted the small, delicate pendant hanging in the hollow of Chrissy’s collarbone. It was pretty; a bright green reflecting in the sun, the perfect match for her cool skin-tone. It looked, Steve thought with just a touch of jealousy, expensive as all-hell. 

Before Chrissy could reply, Daniel grunted. “An emerald, I’d say,” he said, leaning closer, eyes narrowing as he got a better look. “Garnets are a darker shade.”

Chrissy inclined her head at the man and turned to Nancy, rolling the jewel between her thumb and forefinger. “Thank you,” she said, and Steve thought, perhaps, with less lustre than one would expect from someone wearing such a luxurious item. “Your shoes are adorable.”

Well, that was a lie, surely, but at least everyone was getting along. 

They spent the next hour catching up and refilling their drinks, watching Dustin open the various gifts he’d received (not that he’d say it, but Steve was pretty confident that his was the best. Dustin had been lost for words for almost thirty seconds, a personal record). 

The younger man had just finished unwrapping a new t-shirt (from Robin, a picture of the periodic table with the words ‘I wear this shirt periodically’ printed underneath) when Eddie stepped forward and cleared his throat. 

“So, Dustin,” he said, hands pressed together at his chest like in prayer. “Dusty. Dusty-bun. You may have noticed that there’s no present from me in that pile.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to mention it,” Dustin said, looking over to him with an arched brow and fond, toothy grin, “but now that you’ve brought it up. Where are the goods?”

Eddie pressed his hands to his heart, then, and gave a winning smile. “My gift is my song—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Steve groaned under his breath. He knew what was coming.

“—and this one’s for you.” From behind the drinks table Eddie extracted his guitar and stalked up to the—oh, yes, now that he thought about it, Steve could see how stage-like the mini-dance floor looked. This had been planned. He narrowed his eyes at Robin who, like the rest of them, was grinning over at the stage. Why hadn’t he been involved? He loved a good surprise. But then, as Eddie had claimed, he had been pretty busy of late. 

Still.

Centre of attention, Eddie was warming up his showman muscles, taking up the space in the best possible way. Seemingly comfortable, he announced, “Would the glamorous Chrissy Cunningham join me up on stage? That’s right, ladies and gents, it’s a fucking duet! Whooh!” The audience yelled along with him as Chrissy—with a bashful smile—joined him, her own guitar slung over her shoulder. “Chicago, make some noise!”

Only Dustin cheered, the rest laughing with him. 

When the opening chords of a song Steve recognised played out, the tiny crowd settled. Next to him, Daniel leant down close to his ear. “Blondie,” he said. “‘Call Me’. I can see the cogs whirring.”

Daniel was right, of a sort. When it came time for them to sing, the lyrics were different; changed to describe Dustin, with a teasing familiarity but clear fondness. Everyone cackled. 

And Steve had to admit, they sounded good together, they’d been right to collaborate. Chrissy’s dusty tone worked perfectly with Eddie’s deeper, melodic voice. 

He listened, enraptured, for the entire performance. A strange feeling floating through his chest that he couldn’t quite pin down as he watched the pair together—voices weaving in and out, sharing knowing looks and smiles. How long had they practised this?

When it was finally over, the group cheered and whooped. Even Daniel looked impressed, his bottle of beer tucked into the crook of his elbow as he clapped.

“Encore!” Robin called. “No, seriously, do another?”

Eddie chuckled. “I mean, we could?” He looked at Chrissy, who shrugged. “Alright, just one more.”

As the guitar started up once more, Dustin sidled up to Steve’s side. “They’re awesome,” he said and, without waiting for Steve to respond, added, “It was a gift, you know, the necklace. Just turned up.”

Steve knew that tone. He breathed heavily through his nostrils. “Okay. Why are you wiggling your eyebrows at me?”

“You’re very boring, Steve, you know that?” Dustin replied in the whiny voice, his shoulders dropping as he sent him a disparaging glare. Steve let it roll off him like water off a duck’s back.

Daniel, however, hummed and tapped his finger against his chin. “I wonder who sent it.” His eyes glimmered as he looked between the pair of them. “Eddie, do you think? 

“No, he’s not pursuing anyone right now,” Steve said, surprising even himself with the speed of his response.

“Is that what he told you?”

“Yeah.” 

“And he’s no reason to hide anything like that from you?” Daniel didn’t sound convinced. 

Steve frowned. “No.”

The other man clicked his tongue and shrugged, taking another swig of his beer. “I don’t know, Stevie. He looks pretty smitten to me.”

Turning back to the make-shift stage, Steve was just in time to see Eddie beaming at Chrissy as the pair played to the small crowd. After a moment, Eddie looked over and spotted Steve, sending him a grinning wink before fixing his whole attention on Chrissy once more. 

It was weird. Steve had suggested exactly the same thing to Eddie not so long ago, hadn’t he? Why did it feel so unsettling to have others voice his own opinions back at him? Perhaps he was just being overly possessive. He did get jealous easily, he knew it, and it had been a long, long time since he’d had anything other than one hundred percent of Eddie’s attention. 

Like a kid throwing a tantrum at the thought of a younger sibling, maybe, Steve was just going to have to get used to it. It just wouldn’t be straight away.

Because Steve could be honest with himself that, whatever the reason, he had been relieved when Eddie had dismissed Steve’s suggestion about Chrissy. 

He could also be honest, however, that Eddie pursuing Chrissy in secret? Eddie having somebody else as the first person he would call? Eddie lying to him? That  would be so, so much worse.

*

“Babe, I’ve got to head off.”

Steve peered up to where Daniel was standing, his car keys already clasped in his hand. Behind him, Chrissy was crouched down, packing away her own things as well. It was getting late, the sun having vanished behind the tops of the other houses around them. 

Still, though, Steve didn’t want to leave—it was as if his brain had just remembered what it was like not to have something to do. He acted dumb and let out a questioning little hum.

“I’ve got to go,” Daniel repeated, shifting his weight. Steve sat up a little straighter. “That work thing, I told you about?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’m gonna hang out for a little longer, if that’s okay?” Daniel nodded his head and Steve got the distinct impression that he had been meaning to leave by himself anyway. That was okay; they’d been spending a lot of time together, Steve could do with some time by himself, too. He grinned up at the other man. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“It was nice to meet you all. I’ll see you again soon, no doubt.”

A bubble of ‘yeah’s, ‘bye’s, and ‘see you, man’s floated from the circle of them gathered beneath the string lights as Daniel kissed Steve’s cheek and left through the yard gate. It wasn’t long until Chrissy was also saying her goodbyes (which received a more enthusiastic response from the group. Steve understood it, sure—they knew Chrissy better—but they could at least have tried to mask it).

As the inky blue of the early night truly began to permeate the sky above them, Steve dragged himself away from the rest (who were now animatedly discussing whether Robin could survive living in a Tiny Home; Robin voted ‘yes’, the rest ‘no’) and dropped down to join Eddie, lying on a grassy patch in the darkest corner of the yard.

“Lover boy gone?” Eddie asked, as Steve sprawled out next to him. The stars weren’t quite visible yet, but they would be. Soon.

“Lover girl gone?” Steve fired back in a childish tone.

Eddie raised his head off the grass, brow lined with shadows as he frowned in the orange of the distant string lights. “Who?”

“The Stevie to your Nicks.”

“I - There’s -” The other man spluttered before a smirk overtook his face and he shook his head at Steve. “That’s wrong on so many levels.”

“If you say so,” Steve muttered, almost petulant. 

Very used to Steve’s inexplicable snarky behaviour, Eddie brushed over it easily enough. He looked back up at the darkening sky; Steve looked at him. 

“There’s a new board game cafe thing opened up in the city,” he said. “Where that old-fashioned candy place used to be.”

The candy store. They used to do a sherbet dip that Eddie loved. Steve would always get it for him, every birthday and Christmas, or Halloween or Valentines Day, or even if he’d been having a bad week, or just because Steve felt like it, sometimes. Steve had probably been more upset than Eddie when it had closed down, but, then again, Eddie didn’t get to bask in the look on his own face whenever Steve presented the small bag to him. As if it were diamonds and rubies, every time.

Steve bit his lip. “Do they do your goobers and gremlins game?”

The sigh that Eddie let out was just as long-suffering as Steve had hoped it would be. “G and G, that’s exactly what it's called, yeah,” the man responded. “And they do, every Wednesday, might check it out.”

“‘But’?” Steve could hear the question that Eddie hadn’t yet asked. 

“But, I need you to do some recon with me.” Eddie rolled to his side, his head propped up against his hand. “Please.” And he batted his eyelashes at Steve with alarming ferocity.

“Fine,” Steve laughed, shoving at his shoulder. “They serve alcohol?”

“Yep.”

“Alright. But nothing more complex than that bird game.”

“Wingspan? You liked Wingspan. You won, like, three times in a row, it was brutal.”

“I know. That’s why it’s my limit. Know your strengths.” Steve tapped the side of his nose even as Eddie laughed, his shoulders shaking against the blades of grass.

“So wise,” he teased, and flopped to his back once more. “I’ll check the rota at work, text you.”

The pair of them stayed quiet after that, staring up as wispy clouds swam overhead. The sound of lazy conversation travelled over from where they others were sitting, the breeze causing the grass to tickle the skin of Steve’s arms, the smell of barbeque still lingering in the air. 

“Hey,” he started after a while. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Hm?” Eddie hummed. His eyes were closed now, but Steve could tell he was listening carefully, the rise and fall of his chest with every breath almost hypnotic.

“I’ve found a place for the salon.”

Instantly, Eddie’s eyes shot open. “No shit, where?” he rushed, pushing himself up onto his elbows before he flipped onto his stomach. Steve couldn’t help the image of a pre-teen girl at a slumber party that jumped into his head. 

Instead, he reached above his head and stretched, letting his cheek get squashed against his arm as he kept his eyes on Eddie. “Seventy-sixth. Near the park.” He cut himself off with a yawn. “I think it’ll be good,” he half-slurred. “Should be finalised tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Eddie almost squawked. “Why didn’t you say? Shit.”

“Dunno. Didn’t want to jinx it.” It wasn’t quite the truth; he’d been nervous about the decision, wanting to wait until he was absolutely sure it wasn’t a terrible idea before he put it out into the world. Eddie wasn’t the world, though, Eddie was just an extension of himself at this point. “It needs a lot of work. Paint job, you know, fit it all out.” He knew he sounded tired—even just the thought of it made his muscles ache—and he yawned again.

“That’s good though, you can put your stamp on it.” Eddie beamed at him, the kind of smile that sometimes seemed so at odds with his dark clothes and tattoos and metal adornments. It wasn’t really. It was just him. “Well done, man. That’s awesome.”

Steve shrugged. “Thanks.”

It was just as Steve had let his head roll back, let his eyes flutter shut and his brain tune out the sounds of the world around him, that Robin came over and asked, “Are you boys ready to go? Eddie, you’re giving us a lift back, right?”

“Sounds like it,” the other man replied, lugging himself to his feet with a loud groan. He wiped his hands on his jeans and nudged at Steve’s side, ignoring his protests about muddy shoes. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, your carriage awaits.”

Pulling up outside of their apartment, Steve woke up to Robin shoving at his shoulder. 

“Oh, shit,” he groaned, wincing as he stretched. He shoulder screamed at the movement, stiff from where he’d shoved himself against the door. From the front passenger seat, Dustin was smirking at him. 

“Jesus, Steve, you’re like a gremlin. Can’t keep you out after midnight.”

Steve had enough left about him to frown as he opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. “What?” he scoffed. “Eddie, can you educate this child, please?”

“Will do, chief,” Eddie replied, his window already rolled all the way down. He looked disgustingly awake. Just before Steve turned away, he heard Eddie call, "Oh, and Steve?"

"Yeah?"

Eddie grinned. "You'll always be the only Stevie my Nicks will ever need."

While Steve rolled his eyes, Dustin pulled a face of pure revulsion. "Gross, dude."

"Go home, loser," Steve replied, ignoring Dustin. He paused for a second before he added, "Love you."

Something travelled through Eddie’s eyes then and Steve panicked. Had he gone too far? No. No, they said ‘I love you’ to each other all the time. Well, not all the time. But enough. Enough that it wasn’t weird. Before Steve could freak out any more, Eddie licked his lips and said, softly, "Yeah, you too." He whacked Dustin on the chest. "Say goodnight to your parents, Dustin."

"'Goodnight to your parents, Dustin'," the younger man echoed, not looking up from where he was now rapidly typing on his phone.

Robin crouched down and waved, shouting a little too loudly for so late at night, "Night birthday boy!" as the car peeled away from the sidewalk and off into the distance. 

It had been a good party, hadn’t it? In the end. And so what if Eddie did like Chrissy. Steve would just have to get used to it, because there was no way in hell that he was going to do anything to lose Eddie. They were best friends, always would be—nothing less. 

Steve pouted as he waited for Robin to unlock their apartment door. He must have been more tired than he realised, as the very next thought to pop into his head was profoundly strange.

Nothing less, for sure. But nothing more, either.

*

Someone was drilling outside. Steve peered through the window to identify the culprit, though the street below . Down one of the sidestreets, maybe. He sipped his coffee. 

At the table, Daniel was still talking to Robin and Eddie about—what was it? The real estate market or something? Whatever. It had been something about house prices the last time Steve had bothered to listen. 

It had been a strange morning, having woken up to the chaos of Eddie and Robin running amok in his kitchen. Apparently Sunday morning had been designated ‘try something new for brunch’ day, without Steve’s knowledge. The ‘something new’ this particular morning was poached eggs and Steve was impressed, to be honest, at just how badly Robin seemed to have messed it up. Eddie had been looking over the rim of his favourite of their mugs with grim acceptance when Steve had interrupted.

It wasn’t ideal. Daniel had stayed over last night and, Steve wasn’t ashamed, no way, but Eddie was still frosty around Daniel and, in turn, Daniel had made a few pointed comments about Eddie since the party that were still sitting uncomfortably in Steve’s chest. He’d mostly hoped to keep the two of them apart until he’d had a chance to smooth things over a little more. 

He just wanted them all to get along, why on earth were they making it so difficult?

“I say ‘work party’. It’s an event that my company is sponsoring. It’s a gala, really, if I’m honest.”

Steve tuned back into the conversation like a bloodhound who’d caught a scent.

“A gala?” Robin repeated as Steve sat down in the seat next to her. “Like a-fancy-ball-for-rich-people gala?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Daniel sniffed, flattening the non-existent wrinkles of his sleep-shirt against his chest. “A social networking event.”

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s this?” he asked, eyes flicking between Daniel and his small smile—he’d been fishing, of course he had, but Steve was happy to take the bait—and Robin, who was bouncing on her chair. Eddie, of course, looked mildly bored by the whole thing, instead scrolling through his phone. 

“I was saying, my work is hosting a gala event. It’s at the Highbury Hotel, on the riverfront. I can get comped tickets, make a night of it.”

Steve almost squealed. “Oh, my god, yeah. That would be awesome.” Expensive suits, styled hair, accessories to the nines; champagne, caviar, canapes; he could almost smell the luxury already. He sat up straighter. “But, black tie though, right?”

“Or white tie?” Robin questioned, raising her eyebrows at him. 

At that, Eddie wrinkled his nose. “‘White tie’?” he said, looking puzzled. “What the fuck is ‘white tie’?” 

With the smallest of gestures, Daniel waved him off. “It’s not a white tie event. Black tie will do, you know, suits and evening gowns.”

“‘Suits and evening gowns’ he says.” Eddie shook his head faintly. 

“You don’t have to come,” Steve groused.

Before Eddie could respond Robin gripped his arm and said, “Yes he fucking does.” She leant forward, her other arm reaching across the table towards Daniel. “Can the others come along, too?” The words came out breathless and Steve wondered cautiously what they’d be in store for if Daniel said no. 

Daniel didn’t say no, of course; he was gallant like that. “Yeah, whoever. Nancy, Dustin, your friend Chrissy, all of them. Just let me know the final numbers, I’ll sort out the invitations.”

Robin did squeal at that. “Shit, this is going to be sweet!” she said, before swivelling in her seat towards Steve. “You can rent dresses pretty cheap these days, right?”

“Don’t worry about that, Rob, I’ve got it.”

“Steve,”

“I’ve got it,” he repeated and, actually, it would be better anyway. They could find something versatile, that Robin could get some good use out of. He started thinking of himself; he’d need something new, for sure. His eyes landed on Eddie and he gasped. “And you,” he shot out, pointing at the other man. 

Going by Eddie’s reaction, you’d’ve thought Steve had slapped him. “Me!? Oh, no, no way,” he huffed, shifting in his seat. “I can sort myself out, thank you. You’d just dress me up like a ken doll.”

“No I wouldn’t,” Steve insisted. The more he thought about it, the more desperate he became. Why hadn’t he done this before? “I’d completely respect your vibe, I promise. Eddie, Ed, please, I’m literally begging you.”

Eddie scrunched his face up. “Oh, Jesus Christ, fine. But I get veto rights on everything.” He raised a pointed finger, which Steve promptly took a hold of, pushing it to one side. 

‘Everything’. As if. Steve wasn’t born yesterday. “You get three vetoes,” he said. “After that, whatever I say is locked in.”

“Five,” Eddie countered.

“Four.”

“Four and I get to choose the shoes.”

“Four, you choose the shoes, I choose make up.”

“Make up?” Eddie raised his eyebrows. Steve leant closer. 

“You choose the shoes, I choose the make up. These are my final terms.” He folded his arms and sat back in his chair, just like he’d seen them do on Shark Tank.

He could tell that Eddie was biting down on a laugh. “You’re ridiculous. Fine,” Eddie said, eventually, before pointing at Robin. “Rob, you promise to stop him if I look like shit?”

With a gasp, Steve kicked him under the table, though not hard enough at all to elicit the dramatic groan that it did. “You won’t look like shit! Daniel—” and, right, Steve had almost forgotten about Daniel, sitting quietly throughout his entire conversation with Eddie with a sour expression on his face, though he brightened the moment Steve addressed him, “—will there be, like, dancing? Proper dancing?”

“Of course,” the other man answered, smoothly. “They usually stick with just the basics these days. You’ll be fine with a waltz.” He waved his hand, adding, a little dismissively, “In the evening they have a DJ, obviously.”

Steve fixed his face with a strained smile. “Yeah, yeah, that’s cool,” he said, nodding. “Obviously.”

It felt like hours before Daniel finally left the room, muttering something about taking a shower. The second the door to Steve’s bedroom clicked shut behind him, Steve set his mug down against the table with enough force to have both Eddie and Robin jolting. 

“This is a fucking disaster, people,” he hissed. “I don’t know how to waltz! I’m going to humiliate myself in front of his, like, fucking boss or something and he’s going to break up with me for being a total clutz.” He dropped his head into his hands for half a second before lifting it again and urgently tapping Robin’s forearm. “Quick, Robin, google emergency dance lessons.”

And Robin, bless her soul, nodded and reached for her phone, before -

“I can waltz.”

The words spilled from Eddie’s lips as if they were nothing and Steve couldn’t help the dumbfounded, “What?” that they pulled from his in return. 

“Get out,” Robin breathed, sounding just as baffled. “You’ve been keeping that a secret!”

“No, but, Eddie, for real, do you actually know how to dance?” Steve asked. This was serious; Steve’s whole life was at stake.

“Yes!” Eddie cried, defensively. He paused, pouted, and shrugged a little. “Mostly. My, like, grandma taught me or whatever.” Spotting what must have been an extremely doubtful expression on Steve’s face, Eddie smiled serenely. “Don’t worry about it, Steve. I’ll show you the ropes.”

“Okay,” Steve said, drawing out the word. “If you’re sure.”

Eddie winked at him. 

Steve was pretty certain that that was a bad sign.

*

Steve was innocently sipping on a diet coke when Robin tried to murder him. 

“Have you and Eddie ever hooked up?” she said, voice breezy and light, as if she’d been commenting on the weather.

With a splutter, Steve descended into a choking cough before he could surface for air. “Excuse me?” he wheezed, setting his drink down onto the floor. 

“You and Eddie. Ever, you know -” Robin wiggled her eyebrows at him, making some bizarre—and technically inaccurate—gestures with her hands.

“No!”

“Really? How come?”

The two of them were spread out on Robin’s bed, the open window letting in a faint summer breeze, Robin’s curtains floating like ghosts reaching into the room. Steve let his gaze drop to the prism of colour dancing across the wooden floor where it caught the glass crystals that hung from the curtain pole. 

“What, just because we both like dudes, we have to have … fucked.” He hesitated around the word; it felt wrong, somehow, to refer to him and Eddie and fucking in the same sentence. 

Next to him Robin shifted up the bed so that she was peering at him. Steve studiously ignored her. “No, but. I don’t know. He’s good looking, right? You’re both young. It was just a question!”

‘Just a question’. Sure. Like anything was ever just a question.

He let out a breath. “Well, no, is the answer. Absolutely not. Never.”

Robin wasn’t convinced. “Never is a long time,” she offered, sagely. Steve sent her a look over his shoulder, only to be greeted with her wide, solemn eyes. “So, if he asked you, you’d say no, outright?”

Again, Steve sighed. “He would never ask me,” he said, turning back to his phone and the very important listicle he’d been reading. “And wasn’t it you who was talking about the importance of friendship or whatever?”

“It was. I dunno. Guess I’m just wondering if I’ll ever get there with Nance. You know. Not want to jump her bones.”

Ah. Okay. Steve could see what was happening now. He rolled onto his back and raised an eyebrow at her. 

She grimaced.

“You will,” he said, gently. “You just have to ignore that part of it. That’s what I do with Eddie.”

Of course, it wasn’t the frankly fantastic advice Steve was imparting that Robin picked up on. She tilted her head, eyes widening somehow even more.

Steve groaned. “Oh, fuck off. I have eyes, I know he’s hot.”

“Interesting.”

“You just said that he was good looking.”

“Good looking and hot are two different things,” Robin replied primly. 

“Yeah?” Steve hit back, all too aware of the groundless flush creeping up his neck. “What if I said I thought you were hot?”

Robin smirked. “Do you?”

“Sure. You’re hot shit, Robin Buckley.”

At his words, Robin leant forward, scrambling closer to him on all fours until she could drop down across the bed, her face mere inches away from Steve’s. With the glimmer of something in her eye, she said, “And you're a terrible liar, Steve Harrington.”

Steve didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about.

He was a great liar. 

*

There was a pained look on Eddie’s face. 

“You’re not even listening, man, are you?” Steve groused. 

“No, I am, I am,” Eddie whined, his words lost a little beneath the music blaring out from the tiny speaker that had been placed on the windowsill. Steve wasn’t sure what song was playing, but it sounded familiar; like maybe he’d heard it in a movie before. “Shock of the century, the guy that looks like he snorts steroids for breakfast is terrible at sex,” the other man continued. “Wonderful, I’m glad to hear it. I don’t know that I need exactly the level of detail -”

“He’s not terrible at sex, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Okay, alright, whatever. And stop trying to lead, you keep stepping on my toes.”

“Sorry,” he said, stepping emphatically on Eddie’s toes while maintaining eye contact. 

“Ow,” Eddie said, flatly.

Steve groaned. They were in his salon. Or, more accurately, what would become his salon. At the moment it was still just a magnolia skeleton with unidentified wires hanging from holes in the ceiling and dust covering almost every inch of the concrete floor. Not great for cutting hair, but not half bad for learning how to waltz. And, it turned out, Eddie was a pretty decent teacher. 

The two of them had been at it for an hour or so and Steve thought he was finally getting to grips with it. It had been a little awkward at first, he wouldn’t like, trying to figure out where to put his hands—Robin’s stupid words circling in his head like a vulture—but he’d, you know, calmed the fuck down after a while and was quite content to circle the room like this while they chatted. 

“It’s not that it’s terrible,” Steve started up again as a new song began. He looked down at his feet; one, two-three, one, two-three. The beat had gotten faster and Steve found himself struggling to keep track as he spoke. “It’s just that it’s -” he cast around for the right word. “Boring. Maybe.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of boring now and again,” Eddie offered. “Boring’s safe.”

Steve looked up. It was one of the rare occasions that Eddie had tied his hair up. He was bad at it, honestly—it did nothing for his curls—but Steve couldn’t help but be endeared anyway. That didn’t distract him from the incongruous claim. “Okay,” he teased, “who are you and what have you done with Eddie?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, readjusting his hold on Steve’s waist. “I just mean, if you really like him, is it a deal breaker? Or, like, can you talk to him about it?”

Jesus. Like it was that easy. Did Eddie want him to crash and burn? 

“Yeah, no,” Steve laughed. “No way in hell am I talking to him about it.”

Beneath Steve’s hands Eddie shrugged. “There’s your answer then.”

He carried on leading the two of them around the room as Steve thought. He definitely wasn’t going to say anything to Daniel about it—he had the innate sense that it would not be received well—but it had taken them so long to get to this point, he wasn’t chucking it all down the drain so easily. Not when Eddie was potentially on the verge of a relationship himself, especially;it would be so dull. 

Perhaps, if Steve could just show Daniel what he meant. 

The heat of Eddie’s body close to him, the light touch of his fingers at Steve’s waist, the way his lips were so readily in reach. 

An idea formed. 

“Hm. Maybe,” Steve started. He bit his lip. Was this a good idea? If Robin found out - No, fuck it. He needed the help and Eddie was the best person to do so. A few inches away, the other man was waiting for Steve to finish his thought, eyes flicking between his features. Steve took a breath. “Maybe I could use the dance as a bit of a, you know -”  He cocked his head.

Eddie’s brows pinched together. 

“No?”

Of course Steve was going to have to spell it out. Nothing was ever easy. “Like an aphrodisiac,” he said. “Spice things up a bit.”

There were a few seconds where Eddie seemed to be working it out. When he finally did, Steve watched as he wrinkled his nose, shoulders sinking. “I don’t know, fucking, sexy dancing; I told you, my grandma taught me.” He dropped his hold, backing away, before Steve grabbed his wrists. He huffed out, “I know forward, forward, left, back, back, right, Steve, and that really is the limit of my expertise.”

In something very close to a whine, Steve pushed, “I don’t need a specific dance, I could just, you know, get real close, trail my hand down a bit, maybe, I don’t know, roll my hips -”

“Okay, okay, time out.”

And Eddie did back away then, holding his hands up around his face. Steve groaned. 

“Eddie, come on. Don’t be a prude. I need to practise. My life is on the line here!”

“Your sex life is on the line.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Practise with Robin, then!”

Eddie practically yelled it, and the words bounced around the empty space, his skin flushed. His usual dramatics. Steve fought against a sigh; Eddie also got defensive when Steve became too visibly exasperated with him.

“Why?” he said. And, sensing Eddie was reaching the end of his tether, he injected some gentility into his tone—a balm, to coax him back into the light. “Come on, it’s not like anything’s going to happen. It’s like you said, we’re safe.”

“Were you even listening to -” Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. Several long tendrils had escaped his bun; he looked more frazzled than anything. 

Steve pressed his hands to his chest. 

“We’re Switzerland, alright.”

“Again, that’s not really what that -”

“Eddie.”

He was toeing the line, he knew it, but Robin had been wrong before. He and Eddie were the best of friends and that was it. If there was anyone Steve could trust to help him with this particular strain of problem, it was Eddie. Reliable, honest, loyal—Eddie wouldn’t let him down.  

Standing in front of him, Eddie slumped. To Steve, it seemed like he physically shrunk; meek in a way he had never seen before. It was quiet between them for a moment, just the music still playing in the still room, before Eddie muttered, “I - I gotta go.”

“What?” Steve turned, incredulous, as Eddie slunk past him. “You’re not serious.”

Eddie shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “No, I just, um, I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, you know and today was busy, so.”

“Eddie. Eddie, look, alright, I’m sorry, we’ll go back to - Just - Just waltz with me. No funny business.”

A sad smile curled Eddie’s lips. 

“It’s not that. It’s not - I’m just tired, Steve, alright. Really. You’ll be fine, you’ve got the steps down. Daniel won’t notice a thing.”

“Eddie,” Steve said again, watching him go. “Ed, you -” But the other man had already gone, the door swinging shut behind him. Steve dragged his hand across his jaw. “You forgot your speaker,” he said, dimly. “Shit.”

Chapter Text

As his eyes travelled across the large room, it began to dawn on Steve that attending a corporate gala event was not going to be as fun as he’d originally imagined. Sure, having Robin by his side was helping, but it was all a little bit more business-y than he’d anticipated. Old men in well-tailored suits laughing loudly at each other's jokes, the women on their arms clutching at the stems of their wine glasses with pristinely manicured hands, champagne flowing freely in every corner. 

Sure, it was a beautiful image; the chandelier above their heads glittered, the water fountains bubbled, the centrepieces loomed over every table. 

Why did Steve feel so profoundly out of place?

He pulled at the collar of his dress-shirt. 

It wasn’t as if he was out of place, really; he could still summon up memories of his parents heading off to the very same kind of events, primped and preened and sparkling. They’d never extended the invitation to him, though Steve had always been desperate to tag along. Even these days, Steve hadn’t reached the dizzying heights of his father, hadn’t earned any such invitation or—and, well, there it was—any sense of belonging. 

He raised his glass, draining it of the very last of his welcome champagne. 

“Where the hell did Eddie go?” he asked, rather than linger too much on that particular thought.

“Said he was going to check out the buffet,” Robin replied in a rather bored voice. Jeez, they really weren’t kicking things off well. 

“Buffet?”

“I don’t know, whatever they’re queuing for over there.”

At Steve’s elbow, Daniel let out a strangled groan. “The Communications Director is over there. If he makes a fool of himself in front of her, I’m pretending not to know him.” He said the words in a teasing tone, Steve knew he was just joking, but ever since their fight the other day, Steve’s stomach tensed wherever Eddie was mentioned. 

The two of them had smoothed over the whole thing seamlessly, both opting to pretend it hadn’t happened at all. Getting ready together earlier had only been a little bit awkward, saved mostly by Robin and the vodka she’d brought. (“They’ll only have fancy booze there, stuff that you have to sip and shit.”)

It was all it had taken to get Steve loosened up enough to go all out on dressing Eddie up. Now, as Steve spotted him in the crowd (behaving perfectly respectfully, thank you very much, Daniel), it was with a sense of self-pride that he noted just how well the light picked up on the deep burgundy in the suit Steve had chosen. Even the black nail-varnish worked well with it. He looked - He looked good. 

“Oh, they’re about to open the dance floor,” Daniel piped up, and Steve turned towards the stage where the five-piece orchestra were playing. He wasn’t wrong, a space had opened up, revealing a polished-smooth dance floor. Daniel’s eyes glimmered. “How about it, Steve? Fancy showing everyone how it’s done?”

With the same level of bravado that had served him well throughout his life up until that point, Steve took the hand Daniel had so gallantly offered and grinned. “Let’s knock ‘em dead.”

“Steve, what are you doing?”

The question was half grunted in Steve’s ear, causing him to stumble with his footing. He peered up at Daniel with wide eyes.

“Dancing?”

It didn’t sound like he was sure about it. He wasn’t, really. Shit, maybe he’d been doing it wrong, maybe it was all a practically joke by Eddie, designed to humiliate him in - 

“We’re in public,” Daniel continued, nodding over Steve’s shoulder. Following the gaze, Steve’s eyes landed on a man with salt and pepper hair and a red handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket. He wasn’t looking anywhere near them. “My boss is over there. My boss's boss.” Daniel grimaced and said, without moving his lips much at all, “Move your hand higher.”

Steve winced, “Shit. Sorry,” and did exactly that. He’d barely gotten within grazing distance of Daniel’s belt. Jesus. What had he been thinking?

And perhaps the self-flagellation showed on his face, as a moment later Daniel was sucking his teeth and leaning his head closer. “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “You’re pretty good actually. Dancing. I thought I’d have to teach you.” He smiled. It was a nice smile; wide and symmetrical, with straight, gleaming white teeth. “Was wondering if you’d ask. Might’ve been fun.”

Well, shit. “Oh, I - No,” Steve stumbled over the words. He had to lie, of course. Of course he did. What the hell would Daniel think if he told the truth? “I knew,” Steve rushed, willing away any trace of guilt. “My mom.”

Daniel simply nodded. “‘Course,” he said. “Makes sense.”

The orchestra seamlessly transitioned into the next song—not that Steve could really tell the difference, but there was something different in the violin parts, maybe—just as the two of them circled near the table that Robin had sought refuge in. 

Now that he looked, Steve noticed she was one of the very few people left not dancing. There were a few people still crowding the bar, some pacing up and down the buffet tables, a few older couples surveying the proceedings with contented expressions, as if they’d had their fill already. Robin, though—Robin looked distinctly discontented. Perhaps that wasn’t the word for it. The way her eyes followed the couples on the dance floor, the swirl of bodies and the swoop floor-length dresses, Steve realised distantly that it was longing. 

What was she thinking about? Was it Vickie? Was it Nancy? Whatever it was that could have been? Steve should go to her, should sit with her or dance with her, even, and wipe that sad expression off her face. 

Before he could even loosen his hold on Daniel’s waist, Eddie entered his frame of vision. 

It was impossible to make out what was being said, but it wasn’t long before Eddie was pulling—dragging, really—an impotently protesting Robin to the dance floor. The objections didn’t last and moments later the two of them were spinning around, far too fast, really. Robin’s laughter could be heard over the music, the smiles on their faces bright enough to light up the room, even after they almost took out a whole row of other couples. 

“Those two,” Daniel muttered under his breath.

Steve whipped his head back around. 

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I suppose it’s nice. Just -” The other man shrugged, steering them away from an older couple who seemed to be having trouble navigating the dance floor. Daniel lowered his voice. “Well, they clearly don’t have the background you or I have.”

“Background?” He asked the question, though it wasn’t like he didn’t know exactly what Daniel meant. He’d just never expected anyone to say it out loud. 

“Oh, come on, Steve, don’t be coy about it,” Daniel teased. He shrugged his shoulders again, lips pulled into a gentle smile. “I don’t mean anything bad. It’s just facts. If we were in a medieval court or something, they’d be jesters, you know.”

And, Steve supposed, he wasn’t wrong, was he? That was half of Eddie’s schtick—playing to the crowd.

“Yeah,” he repeated, eyes slipping back to the pair momentarily. They’d stopped spinning now, talking casually as they followed the crowd. “Yeah, facts. I guess they did look kinda stupid.”

Daniel nodded.

“If we were in a medieval court,” Steve asked. “What would we be?”

“Oh,” Daniel grinned, and there was the flicker of something behind it, Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. “Stevie, we’d be kings.”

The night closed in around them, so much so that, really, it was the morning arriving, and the attendees of the gala became a little less elegant with each passing minute. The DJ—having long since taken over from the orchestra—was presiding over the dancefloor with thinly veiled glee, and Steve couldn’t blame her. There was something about middle-aged, middle-class, middle Americans remembering that they knew how to party that was endearing, somehow. For it was only the middling-folk that were left; the true elite seemed to have vanished a while ago, and Steve was happier for it.

He was contentedly alternating between shoving mini-crostinis and chocolate-covered fruits into his mouth when Eddie accosted him. 

“Er, can I help?” he said, mouth full, as Eddie dropped violently into the seat next to him. 

“I’m fucking starving. Give me some of those.”

“Get your own!” he squawked, curling protectively around his still piled-high plate.

“Quit hoarding!”

When the other man finally managed to pilfer a handful of the treats, he cackled.

“Thief,” Steve muttered, darkly.

Eddie simply grinned, throwing one of the crostinis into his awaiting mouth. “I’ll take it. Shit, these are good.” He took in the empty seats around the rest of the table before peering over to the bar. “Where’re the others?”

A good question. Steve had given up looking for Daniel ages ago, though he thought Robin had said something about getting some fresh air. He pushed up onto the back legs of his face chair. “Dunno.”

Eddie let out a pleased little sound and said, “Guess you’re stuck with me,” before stealing another crostini.

Idiot.

“Good thing I like you then,” Steve replied, not missing the small smile that tugged at Eddie’s lips. 

The speakers around the hall crackled to life at that moment and the DJ’s booming voice announced that it was time for the last song of the night. The words were met with a chorus of boos. 

Steve looked over at Eddie as Don’t Stop Me Now began to play, the ocean of people in front of the stage swaying as one, singing along from the first line. He watched as Eddie cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered towards the DJ booth, snickering when the DJ saluted back. 

“I’m sorry about the other day,” Steve said. Eddie’s eyes widened and he dropped his hands. Steve wondered how it came to be that he could be surprised by the apology. “I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

“It’s alright,” Eddie replied, warily. “I guess I was being a bit of a baby.”

Steve nodded, not wanting to risk saying anything further; he didn’t really think Eddie was being a baby about it, but couldn’t really think of any other reason. He hadn’t been in the mood and Steve had pushed too far.

“Can I say something?” Eddie asked after a moment. He seemed to be regarding Steve with a cautious air. Steve shifted in his seat. 

“Sure.”

“You won’t get pissed?”

Steve laughed. “I make no promises,” he said, hands raised. 

“Fair.” Eddie smiled, dimples pinching his cheeks. He was quiet for long enough afterwards that Steve thought perhaps he’d decided against it—whatever it was he was going to say. Instead, he seemed to be fixated on the centrepiece of the table next to them. Eventually, he did speak, his words coming out soft and low. “I don’t think he’s right for you.” His gaze flickered back to Steve. “Daniel. He’s not right for you. He doesn’t know you.”

The music played on, echoing around the large venue, Freddie Mercury’s vocals cutting through the heavy air. Above their heads the coloured lights swirled, painting Eddie’s twisted expression in pinks and blues. They were close, Steve realised; close enough that he could make out the flecks of glitter that had attached themselves to Eddie’s skin at some point during the night, that their knees knocked against each other where they sat, two parenthese curled in close; that the weight of Eddie’s gaze pressed heavily against his chest.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Steve replied, breathless with it. “We’ve only known each other a little while. We’re getting to know each other, that’s the point.”

And Eddie nodded. “Is he?” he asked, strained. “Getting to know you, I mean. Is he? Because I don’t think he’s interested one bit in getting to know who you really are.”

“Jesus,” Steve breathed, the word drawn out from him.  

“No, it’s just -” Eddie winced, dragging his hand across his face. “Steve, you deserve someone who’s fucking obsessed with you, you know that, right?”

It was a nice idea. Eddie was full of nice ideas. A romantic, really; he’d never fooled Steve in the slightest. There was a difference, of course, between ideas and reality. 

Steve sighed, tapping his finger against the table. “Yeah, well. Not sure that’s happening any time soon.” The smile he plastered on his face was forced, sure, but it would do. “Might as well have some fun while I wait.”

At his words, Eddie bit his lip. He edged closer, his knee pressing into the flesh of Steve’s thigh. 

“Steve -” he started.

But the lights in the hall went up and the music faded away. The bubble burst. Eddie sat back against his chair.

Time to go home. 

Daniel 💕

hey babe 

gave robin a lift home

girl could hardly stand up straight 😵 i’ll speak to you tomorrow 

sweet dreams - better be thinking of me 

😘

Of course

And thank you, I was getting worried

In the Uber now

Daniel 💕

eddie with you?

Yeah.

Daniel 💕

alright - say hi from me

😝

Steve was frowning down at his phone (because what the fuck did that mean? ‘Say hi from me’?) when he heard Eddie tell the driver, “You can stop here. Thanks, man.” 

He looked up. The view from outside the window was familiar, but it sure as hell wasn’t home.

“Er, Eddie, neither of us live here.”

But Eddie was already out of the car. He leant back against the doorframe, a cocky grin on his lips. “No shit,” he said. Behind him, the river glowed in the streetlights, the occasional yellow of an illuminated apartment window bouncing back in the undulating waves. In the distance, hugging the horizon, the sky was lighter; grey blue bleeding into the black. “Dude, come on,” Eddie whined. “It’s almost sunrise. We’ll go down by the river. It’s, like, twenty minutes at most.”

“You turning into a hippie on me, Munson?” Steve grumbled, but dragged himself out of the car regardless; Eddie was right, it’s not like it was that far.

Eddie snorted and stood back, letting Steve pass. “My middle name is Sunbeam.”

“No it’s not.”

“Are you sure? You’ve met my mom.”

“It’s not,” Steve repeated, though he hesitated. He had met Eddie’s mom; he wouldn’t put it past her. “It’s not,” he settled on. “If it was, I’d already know.”

The skin around Eddie’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Yeah, you’re right.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and leaned closer. “It’s actually Leaf.”

Steve shoved at his chest, sending him stumbling back into the side of the car. “Shut up,” he groaned, fighting against a smile.

They waved the Uber off and walked to the edge of the bridge where concrete steps lead down to the riverside path. It was a path that Steve was vaguely familiar with. He suspected that Eddie used it more often—he tended to walk across the city whenever he could, at his own risk sometimes. Steve had had to rescue him from a freak downpour more than once. 

As he eye’d the grey horizon, Steve wondered if they were entirely safe then, and pulled his suit jacket further around himself.

The path was empty—of course it fucking was, it was barely five o’clock in the morning—but the water was calm, with a family of ducks keeping them company as they walked. Steve kept spotting the tiniest of flowers growing from the cracks in the pavement, spreading out further away from the shadows and chasing the early morning sun. 

It was beautiful, really; the kind of quiet that felt like the entire city was waiting for the drop, holding its breath as if it were a living thing.

Up ahead, Eddie looked back over his shoulder. His skin was pale, his lips dry and cracking, but he was smiling wide, and the forest-brown of his eyes twinkled.

“Eye spy -”

“No,” Steve cut him off. There was no fucking chance.

Eddie laughed loudly enough that a pair of doves startled, fleeing their perch on the high river wall with a rapid flapping of their wings. 

He wasn’t to be deterred.

“I packed my suitcase, and in it I put -”

“No.”

“How many states could you name in sixty -”

“Eddie!”

“Ugh, fine!” he groused. “Be boring.”

“I’m not boring.” Steve ignored the way Eddie shook his head. “That suit looks good, you know,” he said instead, admiring the way the jacket framed his shoulders. 

“Yeah?” A coy smile overtook Eddie’s face. “Thanks. You didn’t have to get it. I would have just bought something from the mall.”

And doesn’t Steve know that that’s the truth.

“But you wouldn’t have wanted to,” he commented drily. If Eddie was going to spend money on anything, it wouldn’t be a fancy suit that he was only going to wear once. “I wanted to buy it for you. I like buying you things.”

“Careful,” Eddie replied. He turned around so that he was facing Steve, walking backwards, and wiggled his eyebrows. “Sounds like you want me as a kept man.”

Steve aimed a kick at him, though he was still at least two feet from reaching him. Eddie cackled. 

“Hey,” he asked. “Has that new girl you were talking about the other day fucked up again yet?”

Eddie let out a full-body groan. “Oh, Cassandra? Of course she fucking has, honestly, I …”

As he let Eddie talk, the sun began to peek out from between the buildings. It was weak; Steve was still concerned about the distinct overcast quality to the large amount of sky that sat between them and his apartment, but it was calming as well. He listened to Eddie ramble on, as he always had and—before he could worry too much about it—Steve noticed the feeling of something pulling at his chest. A tugging at the very core of him that could not be ignored. Urgent but easy at the same time. Altogether sudden, and completely unsurprising.

There was something different happening to him. Something had changed. Something - He wasn’t sure what it was—relief, maybe, that the two of them had managed to get back on track? Gratefulness, that Eddie could be honest with him, about anything, about everything. Or, joy, perhaps, that they could still be Steve and Eddie, even if they each had other things going on. It had been his biggest fear, at look; baseless. Completely baseless. 

It must have been that. Warm and safe and comforting. Joy. 

Eddie had moved on from Cassandra, now, instead in the middle of recounting what sounded like something out of a horror story—a Christmas when when was young where he and a cousin had tried to set a booby trap for Santa Claus, only to be caught and reprimanded by a strict aunt.

His hand flew about his face, his path along the pavement meandering, and Steve couldn’t help the fondness that overtook him in the moment. A jester, sure. But not just that. Daniel had been wrong about that, actually. 

When he spotted a small yellow flower sticking out from the bricked wall. A single bright spot in the dusty grey. 

He plucked it free. 

“Hey, Ed,” he said, interrupting the other man mid-sentence. He waved the flower towards him. 

Almost like they’d choreographed it beforehand, Eddie stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. As Steve slipped the delicate stem behind Eddie’s ear, a raindrop fell against his arm. He could feel Eddie’s gaze on him, travelling across his face; his nose, his cheeks, his lips. 

Joy. 

The heavens opened. 

“Shit,” Steve cried, as heavy drops of rain began to clatter down around them. Almost immediately, the rattle of it against the river filled the air, blurring the previously peaceful water so that the reflections of the buildings above were distorted and broken.

Eddie pulled off his jacket and covered his head. “Shit!” he repeated, beaming over at Steve as if it were the funniest thing that could possible happy. Maybe it was. “Come on,” he yelled over the din. “If we run, maybe at least our socks’ll stay dry!”

And although Steve very much doubted it, he followed after Eddie, shoes splashing against the ground, shirts sticking to their chests, and laughter trailing like ribbons behind them. 

The apartment was quiet as the grave when the two of them hurried inside, shushing each other ineffectually before Steve managed to close the door. The dawn light just breached the window, casting beams that cut through the dust and dimness of the living room. 

He pulled off his shoes with great difficulty and dripped all over the floorboards as he hurried to his bedroom, pulling off his shirt before he even crossed the threshold. 

The wet sound of his clothes hitting the floor felt oddly final. Like a period at the end of a sentence. Before moving on to the next.

It was an odd feeling, to have something so profoundly ordinary steal your breath away, but that’s what happened to Steve as he returned to the entryway, the pyjamas he was wearing dry and warm, a spare set clutched in his arms. Eddie lingered, wet and shivering, waiting unobtrusively in the grey morning light by Steve’s door. Waiting for Steve. 

As the sounds of Eddie changing travelled through the small space, Steve busied himself making tea—to warm them from the inside, his mind supplied, in Nancy’s voice somehow. 

When Eddie emerged, it was with a sheepish smile and outstretched hands. 

And they sat together on the couch, in the quiet, pressed side by side, growing warmer with every heartbeat. 

What had Eddie said, all those weeks ago? Some things were more important. Steve got it now. Because this? This was enough.  

*

It wasn’t unknown for Steve to overthink things, or indeed, under think things sometimes. Right then, he was struggling to find the balance. 

Things had returned to an imitation of normal since the gala. The butterflies in Steve’s stomach, the fluttering against his ribcage, the pull on his chest—that all remained, but he had figured out how to ignore it now, so that was as good as gone, right?

Anyway, he had Daniel to distract him. Handsome Daniel, with his muscles and his connections and his interests in common with Steve. Daniel didn’t constantly ask him to join in dweeby table top games, go on and on about some latest fantasy movie that didn’t live up to the book, or badger him about driving them all to some nerdy store downtown. Daniel knew what Steve was talking about when he referenced the start of the football season, knew why he was excited about the Corvette C8, and even knew when New York fashion week started. His other friends would never. 

So, it was all going great, actually, thank you for asking. 

So great, in fact, that when Steve arrived at the River Fest with Daniel on his arm, waving the others down where they were waiting at the side of a lighting rig, Steve was sure that the day could only end well. Eddie’s band was playing near the end of the evening—one of the best billed slots they’d ever scored—and he’d invited them all along to share in his success. 

What could go wrong?

“Dustin!” Steve called out to the younger man. “They let you in. Weird. I thought there was a strict ‘no pets’ rule.”

He got a flat glare in return, though it was undermined a little by the smiling cartoon—Electron? Neutron? Steve didn’t have a fucking clue—on his cap. “Oh,” Dustin drawled, “you're funny.”

Steve snorted and pressed down on the bill of the hat. 

The whole lot of them were there, which was good. It had been a while since Dustin’s party and Steve had been a little worried that Nancy or Robin might duck out at the last minute, which wouldn’t have been fair on Eddie at all. 

As it was, Nancy and Robin stood either side of Dustin and Chrissy, all of them dressed for the bright sunshine. 

Eddie, however - 

“Eddie, is that leather?”

“It sure fucking is,” the man responded, cheeks rosy and, yeah, sweat glistening against his hair line. 

Laughing, Steve shook his head. “Why?”

“I’m dressed for the stage! I’m a professional, Steven.”

Professional or not, in tight black jeans, chunky boots and heavy leather jacket, he looked seconds away from melting. The only thing helping him out was the deep arm holes in his tank top, visible even beneath the jacket. 

Next to Steve, Daniel piped up, “Where are they? The band? Are we going to meet them?”

“Oh, probably not. They’re all backstage going over everything. I should be, too, honestly, but I wanted to say ‘hi’.”

“Well. You’ve said it now. Don’t want to keep you.”

The reaction from the group travelled through them like a wave. Nancy remained stony-faced, Dustin bug-eyed, and Chrissy ducked her head while Robin bit her lip and narrowed her eyes. 

Steve fought against the urge to jump in, claiming it was all a joke; Daniel was a grown man, he could fix his own messes. Still, he squeezed Daniel’s hand in his own, hoping that somehow the message got through. 

Eddie, meanwhile, lifted his eyebrows high enough that they almost reached his hairline. 

“I think I’ve got a few more minutes to spare,” he replied, short and clipped, not taking his eyes off Daniel. 

The air between everyone was still for a moment, before Dustin loudly—and thankfully—broke it. “Well, that was - Cool,” he said, brightly, clapping his hands. “Shall we grab some food? Yeah? Onwards!”

Corndogs and hotdogs acquired (and in Chrissy’s case, some kind of deep fried apple slice deal) conversation moved on a lot more smoothly. Well, maybe not for all of them, Steve noted, as he spied Nancy and Robin sitting next to each other, both silent, nodding along to the conversations happening on either side of them. 

Typical. 

Catching Robin’s eye, across the picnic bench they’d all squeezed onto, Steve cocked his head towards Nancy. 

Robin just shook her head minutely, expression frozen in place. Fine. Time to roll his sleeves up and do it himself. 

“Nancy, what do you think?” Steve asked, inching forward on the bench. “Robin was just telling me that she’s never been on the dodgems before.”

“I -” Robin’s mouth dropped open and she glowered at Steve. He ignored it. It was for her own good, after all. 

Nancy, however, perked up and let out a delightful little noise. “Never?” she asked, now focused on Robin.

The woman floundered. “Er, no. Not - not that I can remember.”

“But they’re so much fun! We’ll go on them later, for sure. Once Eddie’s band has played.”

The pleased expression on Robin’s face, as well as the blush creeping up her neck, was more than enough answer for Steve that he’d done the right thing. He tried not to look too smug about it, but it was difficult. 

“Yes,” Chrissy added. She clapped her hands together, bright and bubbling. “You and Nancy against me and - me and Dustin.” She spared Steve a nod, her ponytail bouncy as she did so. “And Steve and Daniel, of course.”

Before either of them could respond, Dustin cut across with a loud cry. “No! Steve’s banned from any competition involving cars.” He yelled it directly into Robin’s ear, who was sitting next to him. She winced.

Chrissy shrugged, her smile unwavering. “We can give him a handicap, then.”

Sweet Chrissy. Of course that was her response. Eddie laughed, leaning in closer. “You’re far too generous, Chrissy,” he said, voice fond and teasing. “Seriously, it’s like he gets behind a wheel and some demon possesses him or something.”

And there was that feeling again, though it was tainted this time, a chaser of something acidic, poison running through Steve’s veins. It compelled him to say, in a tone far too cutting than the situation called for, he knew that well enough, “Don’t worry about it Chrissy. There isn’t any real competition anyway. It wouldn’t be any fun.”

Robin scoffed and muttered, “Ego check,” into her soda cup. 

The rest of them laughed. Steve couldn't help but feel satisfied, however, at the way Chrissy’s smile seemed just a little unsure. 

By the time Eddie did actually have to return to the band, the embankment was getting busier. The park—usually a long stretch of green between the river and the buildings proper—was instead a puzzle of people and stalls and rides. Nearer the edge of the park, the stage, while not exactly Woodstock, was more impressive than the others that Steve had watched Eddie perform on. 

He wished him luck, deciding not to comment on the somewhat green-tint to his skin, and watched him vanish into the crowd. 

“We should go find a good spot, yeah?” Dustin asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet now. He was doing well, in the crowd, Steve thought distantly. 

With a firm arm at Steve’s waist, Daniel steered him forward and into the throng of people. “You’re damn right. Hold on to me, babe. Don’t want you getting lost.” He winked and Steve—used, really, to being the one leading the charge—only had a moment to grab onto Robin’s hand and drag her along with him. 

They formed a human chain, winding their way towards the front of the stage, with many, ‘Sorry,’ ‘Oops,’ and, ‘Excuse me!’s spilling from their lips as they went. Once there, Steve squeezed himself against the barrier and settled in. It wasn’t overly busy, they could still move, still had space to spread their arms, but they were surrounded, still. A labyrinth of people to navigate to find the exit. 

“It’s a decent crowd!” Robin yelled over the increasing buzz of conversation. On stage, people who Steve assumed were crew were moving things around, bridging instruments on stage. He recognised Eddie’s guitar tucked away near the wing.

“You doing okay, Dust?”

The question pulled Steve’s gaze away, and he turned to Nancy, tucked in at Dustin’s side. 

The boy nodded. 

“Not a fan of all the people?” Daniel grunted over Steve’s head. “Shame. Chrissy’s the same, you should stick with her.” 

At that, Chrissy—who, now Steve thought about it, did look unhappy, a small pout on her lips—said, quietly, “He knows that.”

“Right,” Daniel let out a faint laugh and waved a finger between her and Dustin. “Cousins. I forgot.” He curled his arm more tightly around Steve, then, and pressed his lips to the side of his head. 

There was a beat where Chrissy seemed to hesitate, before she said, “You know, you’re right. Actually - Actually I am feeling a little ill. I might - I might just go. Don’t - Will you tell Eddie I’m sorry? I’ll just …” 

And without another word, she slipped away. 

Steve blinked, even as Daniel let out a bemused huff behind him, the burst of air tickling his ear. That was weird, right? She seemed fine. He sent Robin and the others a bemused look. 

Even before Nancy opened her mouth, from the concern crease to her brow, he wasn’t surprised when she said, “I’m just going to check that she’s okay.”

Robin edged closer to Dustin. “And then there were four,” she muttered. 

“It sucks,” Dustin added, pouting up at the stage. “She was looking forward to seeing them. I wonder what set her off.”

“Who knows,” Daniel griped. He was wearing a pinched expression, eyes focused on the stage as well, though Steve knew he wasn’t particularly looking forward to the show. “People these days. I’m sure some of them can barely step out of the door without freaking out about it.”

Steve was almost glad that that was the moment Corroded Coffin chose to come on stage; he could practically feel the heat coming from Robin and Dustin’s glares. This wasn’t the last he’d hear about that, for sure, but at least for now he could sit back and watch Eddie play. 

Dusk had well and truly arrived as Steve spotted Eddie alone near the line for the toilets, looking searchingly out into the dwindling crowds. 

“Hey!” he yelled, startling Robin into letting out a small scream. “Eddie! Over here!”

Eddie spotted them easily enough, waving back as he jogged over. 

The beaming smile on his face could be seen from a mile away. 

“Oh, my God,” Robin cried, putting on an over-the-top voice. “Aren’t you Eddie Munson? From Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie sniggered, flicking her arm. “Shut up,” he laughed, though a small frown appeared on his face as he looked between them all. “Where’s Chrissy?”

“She had to go,” Robin sighed. She scrunched up her face. “Wasn’t feeling too great, you know.”

Eddie slumped. “Oh, shit.” 

Leaning closer, Dustin piped up with a, “You’ll just have to give her a private show,” in a tone that left nothing to interpretation. 

Daniel snorted.

“Dustin!” Nancy huffed, whacking him on the arm. “Gross.”

“What?” the younger man defended himself, rubbing at the spot. “We were all thinking it.”

“We weren’t not.”

Interjecting, Eddie looked more pained than anything when he said, “Thank you, Dustybun. Did you all have a good time, though?”

After they had all clambered over each other to assure Eddie that they’d loved it, that he’d been amazing, that the crowd had gotten so into it, that they’d been the best performers of the night, hands down, Eddie’s ego had been sufficiently boosted for them to start the long walk to the parking lot. 

“You really were good, you know,” Steve said quietly, the pair of them falling to the back of the group, slimmed down when they hit the sidewalk. He licked his lips, keeping his face straight. “You ever thought about going professional?”

As expected, Eddie shoved at his side, knocking him into the empty road. “Ha ha.” He ducked his head shortly after, though, and carried on, voice rough, “I’m glad you liked it. I know it’s not really your thing.”

Steve found it easier than expected to say, in response, “Of course I do. I always enjoy watching you play.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Always.”

The smile on Eddie’s face was brighter than all the stars in the sky. 

*

“How do you do it?”

Steve pulled his eyes from the TV screen for a brief moment. “What?” he asked, before returning his attention to where the detective guy was explaining the twist in a broad Southern accent.

“Stay here?” Daniel replied. 

“Er, pretty easily. I just don’t leave,” Steve joked. He flopped his head back against the couch cushions. “What do you mean? Chicago?”

In the space between them a bowl full of popcorn was overflowing, leaving popcorn sprawled across the seat. Steve cleared them away with a swipe of his hand.

“Yeah. You could go anywhere.”

“I mean, I have left Chicago.” He shrugged. “I like it here. My friends are here, my family. Why?” he asked, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. 

Daniel squirmed for a moment. Funny. Steve had never seen him do that before. It made him look distinctly child-like. 

“Work’s offered me a position at the New York office.”

Steve’s eyebrows lifted and he froze with his hand in the bowl. What did that mean? Jesus Christ, Daniel wasn’t about to ask him to move states with him or something, was he? Oh, Christ, Steve really couldn’t handle this shit right now. It was a Thursday, for heaven's sake. Maintaining a serene façade that even his mother would be proud of he said, casually, “Wow. Shit. You’re thinking of taking it?”

“Yeah,” Daniel nodded, frowning at the TV. “New York, you know.” 

“I guess. What about -”

“Stevie.” And Daniel looked at him then, lips narrowed, head cocked. “Come on. It’s not like we’re the great loves of each other's lives.” 

“Jesus, don’t hold back on my account,” Steve said. Because, yeah, he wasn’t wrong, but he could at least pretend like it wasn’t such an easy decision. Like Steve might be a something. Could be a potential. Wasn’t so disposable.

The discontent evidently showed on Steve’s face as Daniel scoffed and asked, “What, you really want me to stay?”

Fuck it. Maybe now was the time for honesty. If not now, when, or whatever it was that Dustin said, wherever he made any expensive nerdy purchase. 

“I want you to think about it,” Steve said. He shifted on the sofa, reaching out to nudge at Daniel’s arm. “At least until the weekend. You’re still coming to help paint the salon?”

“Ugh,” the other man groaned dramatically and smirked. “Yes, and really looking forward to it.”

And, right, because Daniel really didn’t like his friends—it was obvious enough to Steve by now. Maybe that was it, maybe they were the problem, and not Steve at all. 

“I’ll reward you afterwards,” he tried. “Just, see how you feel after that.”

With a sigh, Daniel nodded. “Okay.” He let his gaze fall back to the TV. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

*

The salon was alive with noise and activity, the chatter of Steve’s friends loud over the sounds of them working. He’s managed, somehow, to get all of them to agree to spend their Saturday helping him give his empty salon unit a fresh coat of paint. To be fair, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Well. Not everyone, though Daniel was doing a good enough job pretending. 

To start with, a lot of paint had ended up on other people, rather than the wall—Eddie had been a particular menace, Robin had the a pure white handprint on her face to prove it—though now people had calmed down; just the occasional flicking of a paintbrush in someone else’s direction every now and again.

In the background, faint music floated around the room from someone’s phone, propped up against a six-pack of soda. In the corner, Dustin and Nancy were having a rambling conversation about house renovation. 

“... most of the ones you see on Instagram or whatever are really poor quality, though,” Dustin said, scrunching up his face as he concentrated on getting a straight edge by the window. 

Nancy nodded. “Yeah, well, my parents paid an absurd amount of money for a professional firm to come in. I remember having to sort through everything before they started. I had to clear out my childhood bedroom. I found all my old books, from when I was a kid, you know.” She let out a small pout. Steve smiled as he listened in. Trust Nancy to get sentimental over a bunch of dusty old pages. “Roald Dahl and Doctor Seuss and Winnie the Pooh. I’ve just put them in the attic, I didn’t want to get rid of them, you know. It just seems a bit of a waste to leave them there, though. 

“I loved Winnie the Pooh growing up,” Chrissy replied. The cuffs of her jeans were rolled up enough that Steve could see the delicate bones in her ankles. With her hair in bunches she was the very epitome of cute. Irritation rolled in his gut. “I have a stuffed Pooh Bear from when I was younger, still. He’s a bit worn, but I still keep him in my bed.”

Robin cooed. “That’s so cute.”

On the other side of the room, Steve just rolled his eyes. 

“I guess that explains why she’s tagging along with her kid cousin’s friends and not her own,” he muttered under his breath. 

Daniel snorted loudly. “Right?”

And maybe if he hadn’t been so enamoured with the way Daniel had been smiling at him, the way Steve had made him laugh, how maybe if he just kept making him laugh it would be enough for him to want to stay—if he hadn’t been too busy thinking about all of that, he might have noticed the way the room and fallen silent. 

He was thinking about all of that, though, and more, and so it was with absolutely zero hesitancy that he started, “It’s embarrassing. Honestly, I’d die -” The was a gasp. Steve turned to see five pairs of eyes on him, all wide and round. Shit, this wasn’t good. “Fuck,” he hissed out. “I mean -”

Chrissy, however, was already waving him off, paintbrush in hand still. “It’s okay,” she said. She shrugged as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I know it’s kind of babyish, or whatever. It just, you know, makes me feel safe. I have trouble, sometimes, meeting new people.”

It was with an impending sense of doom that Steve watched as Daniel opened his mouth.

“Well, that’s a confidence thing. You need practise, not kids toys,” the other man said. He tapped Steve’s arm. “That’s what Steve meant.”

Everyone was watching. Steve followed the path of a drop of paint falling from the paintbrush still dangling from Robin’s hand as it fell to the floor, landing with a splodge on her sneaker. “Steve?” she asked. 

Shit. Shit.

He winced. Started, “I -” but Chrissy cut him off again.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It’s fine. I know. You’re right. I should be more assertive.”

And how was Steve supposed to respond to that? Argue with the girl who’d literally just said she needed to stand her ground more? 

Thankfully, Nancy saved him. Of a sort. 

She set down her paint roller in the tray and wiped her hands on her jeans. “Speaking of,” she said, and Steve was sure he wasn’t imagining the sharp curtness in her voice. “I’m tired. Chrissy? You want a lift back?”

Shit, shit, shit.

Almost as a unit, the group downed tools, collecting themselves together. It was almost worse that it wasn’t an immediate exodus, but a lingering departure, as if everyone was waiting for Steve to fix it somehow. 

Even fucking Daniel. The dude sent Steve a sheepish smile and a kiss on the cheek before heading out and Steve just knew he was secretly pleased to have a reason to duck out early. 

Soon it was just him and Dustin, with Eddie loitering with his hands in his pockets near the door. The music had stopped. Whoever’s phone it was, they’d pack up their shit.

“What was that about?” Dustin asked him, clearly bewildered, his eyes searching Steve’s face.

Steve let out a heavy groan. “I didn’t mean for her to hear it obviously, I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.” Dustin must have known that. He knew Steve.

The other man frowned, brows furrowing beneath paint-flecked curls. “But, I don’t - Do you not like her?”

“No! I mean, yes, of course I like her.” What was not to like? She was a little princess, Barbie girl. Everyone liked her. 

There was a faint note of exasperation tinting Dustin’s words when he said, “So, did she do something?” with a huff. 

Before Steve could explain that no, she didn’t do anything, Steve didn’t say anything that bad, it was just poorly timed, actually, thank you, Eddie entered the ring. 

“Dustin!” he burst out, causing the man to startle when he clapped him on the arm. “Robin’s going with the others, they can drop you off. I need to talk to Steve.”

Steve wondered what would happen if he insisted Dustin stayed. Not much. Dustin would join in, probably. The younger man spared him a final glance before heading out and leaving the pair of them alone. 

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie hissed.

“Ugh. I don’t know, alright.” Steve waved his arms in the air. “It’s not that big of a deal, she wasn’t supposed to hear it.”

“Oh, so, that’s fine then,” Eddie drawled. “You say shit like that about me behind my back?”

“No! Of course not!”

“No?” He cocked an eyebrow. “What about Nancy? Dustin?”

What the hell was this? As if Eddie had never said anything ungracious about one of their friends. “I didn’t mean anything,” Steve pushed back. “Look, come on, it is a bit ridiculous, what is she, twenty-six?”

The other shook his head, an unpleasant curl at the corner of his mouth. “Fuck off.”

“Eddie -”

“No, I’m serious, Steve, fuck off with that shit.” And Steve really looked at him then; saw the fix to his jaw, his flushed neck, the stillness in the way he stood, staring at Steve. He was really angry. About Chrissy. Right. A bolt of heat shot up Steve’s spine, landing behind his eyes. Of course he was angry at Steve and defensive about Chrissy. Of course. Why had Steve thought it would ever be the other way around? Eddie, his eyes bright and face flat, continued, “Who do you think you are? What have you done that’s so great, you get to lord it over anyone else? Chrissy's lovely and you’ve been against her since you first met her for no reason -”

“No, I haven’t -”

“Yes, you have,” Eddie interjected. He licked his lips, voice dropping. “It’s one thing to joke around between friends, but you know she wouldn’t take it like that. You and Daniel smirking away like - I don’t know.” He brushed his hand to his jaw and let out a long sigh. “It’s not right. You should apologise to her. And mean it.”

This was so unfair. So fucking unfair. Goddamnit.

“She’s fine!” Steve burst out. “You guys are making it into a thing!”

“She’s out there crying, Steve,” Eddie snapped, his jaw a firm line. “You know, you’re treating her just like Daniel treats me. Like I’m not worth his time.” He shook his head. “You need to get over yourself. Otherwise you might be the one struggling to find new friends.”

Steve watched as Eddie turned on his heel and left. 

It wasn’t until the door slammed shut that he allowed himself to blink the tears from his eyes.

Chapter Text

Steve let out a heavy breath.

“Okay, Harrington,” he muttered to himself. “You can do this. We’re just saying sorry. Easy peasy. Nothing to be awkward about.” 

He’d managed about five hours of sleep after driving himself home last night, having finished up the first coat of paint to the salon walls miserable and alone. It was fine. He got it. Mostly. The majority of the morning, however, had been spent trying to figure out exactly how to apologise, which, it turned out, was a lot more difficult when you didn’t have Robin or Eddie there to bounce ideas off of. 

Steve had figured it out, though, and now he was staring at Dustin and Chrissy’s apartment door as it remained resolutely sombre in front of him, clutching tightly at the bunch of flowers in his fist.

He rolled his shoulders. 

Okay. 

The door opened only a moment after Steve knocked and he wondered if perhaps Chrissy had been watching him through the peephole the whole time he’d been psyching himself up. No matter. The woman looked almost as tired as Steve felt, actually, in her sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. 

She didn’t look at all surprised to find Steve darkening her door. 

“Come on,” she said and, yeah, she sounded tired too. “Dustin’s out.”

Steve let the door click shut behind him and tugged at his sleeves. “Er, yeah, no, that’s fine. It was you I was after, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Okay, Steve. Here goes. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out, aware of how, already, the words sounded too trite; not the heartfelt admission he’d been practising in his head. “I mean, like, really, I am sorry. I’m horrified. You’ve never been anything but lovely to me, and that’s how I treat you.” He waved a hand towards her, where she seemed to be taking the whole thing in without a chink to the armor that was her flat expression. “I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to - I just - I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry.”

He held the flowers out towards her. 

Slowly, Chrissy reached out, lifting the bunch from Steve’s grip. He’d chosen white and blue ones; delicate petals that reminded him somehow of Chrissy. She probably hated them. Oh, God, he should have called Nancy or someone before coming here, flowers were so cliche, what was he thinking -

“Thank you.” Chrissy peered down at the small arrangement, her lip twitching as she ran a finger over one of the slim petals. 

Okay, no, this was good. If Steve could just back out before he said anything that made it worse, he could probably count this as a success. 

He stepped backwards towards the door. “I won’t, er, I’m sure you don’t want me hanging around, I just wanted to say that. So,” he trailed off, reaching behind himself for the latch. 

“Actually, Steve.” Chrissy’s eyes flicked up to his for a brief moment as she bit her lip. “Do you want a drink?”

Well. Shit.

Steve sunk back into the couch, watching as Chrissy approached with two glasses of wine. “I think I owe you an apology as well,” she said, holding one out towards him.

Chrissy? Apologising to him? That didn’t sound right. 

With a tentative hand, Steve took the offered glass from her, the stem cool to the touch. 

She sat down next to him. 

“Have you heard from Daniel this morning?” she said, her eyes fixed right on him. There was a frankness to her tone that Steve hadn’t heard from her before. 

“Daniel?” he replied, confused beyond anything. Why would Chrissy be asking about him? “Er, no.”

The woman nodded, her lips thin. “I have. He’s at the airport. Or, no -” She looked at the clock across from them, a space-themed thing that was clearly Dustin’s through and through. “He’ll be in the air by now.”

‘In the air?’ Okay, now, this was really just getting weird. 

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked, nose wrinkled as he shook his head, nonplussed. 

After staring at him for a moment longer, Chrissy slumped. 

“Daniel. I lied, that time when you asked if I knew him,” she said, and she definitely wasn’t looking at him now. Steve let his eyes trail across the smooth slopes of her profile. “He’s my boyfriend. He was my boyfriend. Dumped me this morning, so.” She sent him a small shrug and bit her lip. 

Steve blinked. “Your boyfriend,” he said. He was aware it was a stupid thing to say, just to repeat Chrissy’s words back at her, but his mind was blank. There were no other words he could think to say. “Your - But - No, he’s with me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s - He’s a piece of shit, I think, actually.” Chrissy sighed and she grimaced, her hand making an abortive little move towards Steve’s own. “I’m sorry, Steve. I should’ve said something, but you know what he’s like.” 

“I -”

And, no, actually. Steve didn’t really know what he was like, did he? Not at all. 

Instinctively, he reached for his phone. 

Hey. Where are you?

As he clutched it in his palm, trying to stem the tide on his racing heart and whirring brain, Steve tuned back into Chrissy, who was still talking. Like a broken dam, the words spilled from her now, “He told me, when we got together, that it had to be a secret for a month or so, until he got promoted. His dad wouldn’t be a fan of me, apparently, and delivering the news along with a new job would make it easier to swallow. Make me more palatable,” she scoffed. “But, of course, a month goes by, new job comes, and there I am, still a secret.” There was a smile on her lips that didn’t reach her eyes. She knew the truth, of course. “A year and a half later,” she finished, meekly. 

It didn’t make sense. I mean, yeah, technically it made sense. Somehow, Steve wasn’t surprised; he’d known deep down that Daniel wasn’t perfect, but he was still shocked. This wasn’t the kind of thing that happened to him, nobody would do that to him. Steve wasn’t - And Chrissy - Chrissy was lovely, everyone liked Chrissy, that was the whole - “But -” Steve found himself stumbling out. “But all the things he said …” 

“About me?” Chrissy finished for him, when Steve floundered at the end of the sentence. “That doesn’t surprise me even a little.”

With a waivering breath, Steve let himself think. “I’m the other fucking man,” he muttered under his breath. “Shit.” He checked his phone. Nothing. 

Where are you??

We need to talk

It’s urgent

“But why -” Steve frowned. If what Chrissy was saying was true, then what the hell had Daniel even been thinking? Why had he kept seeing Steve? The second he found out Steve knew Chrissy, surely he’d have gone packing. “What was he even doing with me?” Steve asked, baffled. 

Chrissy curled against the couch cushion. She looked so tired. And so small. Shit. He hoped Dustin would be back soon. “He said - He said that his family was getting suspicious, so it would do him good to date someone else of, you know, from a family with … connections.”

Connections. ‘We’d be kings’. 

Steve felt sick. 

Perhaps reading something else into the way Steve’s face paled, Chrissy reached out, this time her fingers curling around Steve’s arm. “I’m sorry, Steve. I feel awful,” she said. “You didn’t deserve any of that. Please don’t hate me.”

His phone buzzed. He almost didn’t want to look. 

Of course, he did.

Daniel 💕

what’s wrong?

if chrissy says anything to you ignore her

i know her from a few years ago she’s a real bitch - compulsive liar

i should have said something i know - but i wanted to give her a second chance

she’s a psycho she’s out to get me

Steve let out a huff of laughter. As if there was anything funny at all about the situation. Eddie had been right all along. What a fucking dick. Without a second thought, Steve pulled up the settings on his phone and blocked Daniel’s number. 

His message vanished. 

It was weird how immediately Steve felt a little better. He looked over to Chrissy, her eyes still wide and baleful. “I don’t hate you,” he said, firmly.

The woman laughed, a note of derision bleeding into the sound, though Steve knew it wasn’t aimed at him.

“I don’t,” he insisted. And what was it Eddie had said to him once? Irony had no place in an apology. He let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his hand across his jaw. Well, shit. If he was going to do this properly. He winced and said, slowly, “I thought you and Eddie were, you know.”

Chrissy’s eyes somehow widened even further. 

“Me and Eddie?” another laugh escaped her then, though this one couldn’t have been more different; bubbly and light and joyful. She covered her mouth as she snorted, “No. No way.”

“Alright,” Steve pouted, almost offended on Eddie’s behalf. It was that ridiculous of an idea.

“No, I mean.” She narrowed her lips and held his gaze. “Steve.”

“What?”

After considering him for a few moments longer, Chrissy simply shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about that. I promise.”

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that. He was sure of one thing, however. Rising to his feet, he let out a long breath. “Chrissy,” he said. “We’re going to need some more fucking wine.”

*

The soft knocks of Steve’s knuckles against the doorframe could hardly be heard over whatever playlist Robin had blaring from her laptop. He recognised the son — the same one that had been playing in the car a couple of weeks ago when the two of them had snuck off to the beach. That had been a good day. How quickly things changed.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the wood. 

Robin peered over the top of the book she was reading. “Hey, yourself, loser,” she said. When she spared him a proper glance, the expression on her face dropped and Steve could only imagine how bad he must look to attract that kind of a reaction. “What?” she asked, dropping the book and sitting forward. 

Steve didn’t answer. Where the hell would he even start?

“Steve,” Robin insisted. “What is it?”

Well, shit. He’d have to try. 

“So,” he started, scratching at his cheek. “I went to see Chrissy …”

“Are you really sad about it?” Robin asked him, hours and tears and a pint of ice cream later. 

They’d migrated to the couch, tucked in beneath soft blankets and pillows and fluffy socks. Steve was more grateful now than ever to have Robin by his side. He wasn’t sure he’d want anybody else seeing him like this, not even Dustin. Eddie, maybe, if the other man ever spoke to him again. 

“No,” Steve huffed over the top of the movie they had playing—it was some world war two thing that Dustin had added to his ‘To Watch’ list without Steve’s permission—and dug his spoon into the cookie-dough nugget at the bottom of the carton. “No, not really. Sorry for myself, maybe.”

Next to him, Robin shifted closer, so that their socked feet knocked together. 

“Okay, well,” she said, voice soft, “remember everything that you said to me, when I was feeling awful after the whole Vickie thing?” Steve nodded, slowly. His panicked attempts at making Robin feel better after that whole mess was not something he was going to forget quickly. “You’ve just gotta say all that shit to yourself,” she said, brightly.

Steve let out a low grunt. “But you pissed off a lot less people than I did,” he reminded her. “You weren’t, like, a fucking bitch.”

“You’re not a bitch, Steve,” Robin scoffed and nudged at his shin. “You said sorry. You are sorry. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone, like, evolves and shit.”

The bracelets dangling from her wrists caught the light as she waved them carelessly in front of her, the tiniest prism shining onto the white wall above the T.V. Steve watched as it fell towards the floor, disappearing from view when Robin flopped her arms back to the couch cushions. 

She was right. Of course she was. Everyone made mistakes. It didn’t mean that Steve didn’t have some making-up to do, though. 

He rolled his head towards Robin’s. “Wanna watch Bridgerton instead?”

“Christ, yes,” Robin cried out with a cackle. “Whatever this is is bumming me out.”

Steve grinned and launched himself towards the remote. 

It wasn’t until Anthony and Kate were arguing with each other during the hunt that Robin asked, “Do you think Eddie and Chrissy will get together now?”

Steve stared at the screen. Why the hell was she asking him that? Did she think the two of them were like Anthony Bridgerton and Kate? No. No. Absolutely not. They weren’t - What? Destined to be together. They weren’t in love. No. No! “No,” Steve shot out. He licked his lips and added, more calmly, “She’s not into him like that.”

“No?” Robin looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“No. She assured me.”

“Assured you?”

He shrugged off the curious tone. “I don’t know. She said it,” he muttered, and that horrid grip of jealousy curled in his stomach. For it was jealousy, he knew that much now. “I hope he’s not too upset about it.”

Robin snorted. “Why would he be upset?”

“I mean, if he likes her.”

“Does he?”

“I’m not sure. I think so? Maybe?” Steve slumped. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about Eddie anymore it seemed. “He should get to be happy.”

The room was quiet for a moment, just the sound of the character dialogue dampening the hard edges of silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see Robin watching him still, a strange expression on her face; confusion, perhaps, or curiosity. There was something, though, in the small smirk that travelled across her face that he wasn’t sure he was a complete fan of. 

“Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word. “Yeah, he should.”

It was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place, wasn’t it? That was all he’d wanted—for his friends to be happy. And where had it gotten him? Eddie was annoyed at him, Dustin upset, he’d tanked Nancy and Robin’s relationship, Vickie had vanished across the country. He was bad luck. Or, no, bad judgement. He shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near any potential new couples.

“Shit,” Steve groaned.

“What?” Robin laughed at him, evidently too used to his dramatics now. 

He pouted. “I really messed up with you, didn’t I?” he said. “I’m a terrible judge of character. If I’d’ve left you to it, you and Nancy would be together now.”

“Eh.” Robin scrunched up her face. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.” If there was one thing Steve knew about Nancy, it was that she had a stubborn streak a mile wide.

“It’s fine,” Robin sighed. “I already forgave you. You don’t have to keep apologising for things. You’re okay. And besides, it’s not like I didn’t go along with it. I could’ve told you to shove it, but I didn’t.” She sent him a glare, as if daring him to disagree.

Stubborn. 

Maybe she and Nancy did have more in common than Steve had originally thought. 

And, actually, yeah. He wasn’t going to win this argument with Robin, but he sure as hell knew someone who would. He just needed to get them back on side.

Perhaps he wouldn’t go anywhere near any potential new couples … starting next week.

Because, really. He had a mess to clean up. 

*

“I can’t believe you just told her the plan, dude.”

Dustin shook his head, a domino effect of jostling cascading through the four bodies pressed close together to lean out of Steve’s small balcony window. Steve winced, shuffling closer to get a better view. This had to be perfect.

“Of course I did,” he replied. “If a job needs doing properly, Nancy’s the one that’s going to be doing it.”

“But it’s less romantic that way,” the younger boy whined.

At the other end of their dogpile, Chrissy gasped, “What are you talking about? This is so romantic.” Steve was almost certain that—if he could see them—her feet would be tapping excitedly, matching the delighted grin that pulled at her rosy cheeks.

Next to him, Eddie leant further out of the window, peering towards the street below and, most importantly, the coffee shop directly opposite. 

“What’s the signal again?” he asked, squinting in the afternoon sun. 

The air was cooler outside these days, in the waning of the Summer months, though Steve wasn’t going to give them up without a fight. He’d kept up his uniform of shorts and a t-shirt even as the others deferred to jackets and long-sleeves. Chrissy had a sweater on, for Christ’s sake. Eddie was still in his scrubs, looking tired as hell, but had insisted that he be involved the second Steve had explained it to him. 

It was nice, though, to be crammed in so close to the others, and to feel the refreshing breeze on his face as they waited for Nancy and Robin to leave the cafe below. They’d been in there for over an hour and, honestly, what could anyone be talking about with Nancy for that long without falling asleep - 

No. No, Steve. He wasn’t being mean to his friends anymore, right. Not even in his head. 

“If Robin says yes to a date,” he explained, instead, “Nancy’s going to lead her right when they come out. If she says no, they’re going left.”

Dustin turned towards him, a pinched expression on his face.

“Our right, or their right?” he asked.

Steve pressed his lips together. “Er -”

Before he could puzzle it through, trying to recall the very rushed and intense conversation he’d had with Nancy just that morning, he felt a shift in the bodies around him. Chrissy let out a soft, “Oh, crumbs,” and Steve dropped his gaze to the ground below. 

There they were: Nancy and Robin, emerging from the coffee shop doorway, shy smiles on their faces and cheeks dusted pink. That was a good sign, right? No tears, no frowns, no embarrassed grimaces.

The pair lingered in the doorway for a moment longer and Chrissy squeaked, “Does everyone have their streamers?”

With a devilish grin, Eddie pulled out two rolls of rainbow coloured paper from his pockets. 

Nancy and Robin edged closer to the sidewalk. They needed to do it soon, or they’d miss their chance. He saw Nancy’s gaze flick up to the window as the two walked below it. 

“Steve!” Dustin hissed. “Steve, our right or their right?”

“I can’t remember!” he rushed out, voice strained, his own streamers clenched in his hands. 

“They’re smiling!” Eddie yelled. “Fuck, just do it, go, go, go!”

Just as the two women on the street beneath them turned right (and, yeah, that was it, their right, Steve remembered it now), handfuls of brightly-coloured paper streamers were launched into the air above their heads, along with a loud chorus of, “Congratulations!”

Dozens of people looked up at the onslaught of noise, but Steve’s eyes were fixed on one person only. 

The grin on Robin’s face could probably have been seen from the moon.

“Oh, you losers!” she called up to them, pulling a long ream of yellow paper from her hair.

And Steve couldn’t take the tension anymore, he needed to hear it from her mouth, needed to know for sure that it had worked, that he’d fixed something, at least. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled over the street, ignoring the glares and amused smiles that were being sent his way. “Did you say yes?”

“You’re so embarrassing!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Nance, did she say yes?”

“Yes!” Nancy shouted and, even through her beaming smile, Steve could see the disapproving arch to her brow. “Are you going to clean that up?” she added.

Dustin waved her off. “Don’t worry. It’s biodegradable.”

The women both scoffed in sync—a worrying development—and wound their way towards the apartment door. 

As Dustin stood up to buzz them in, stepping on Steve’s toes as he did so, Chrissy let out a dreamy sigh. “So romantic,” she said.

Before Steve could feel too guilty about Chrissy and her recent luck in the romance department, he felt Eddie ruffle his hair. “Yeah,” he said. “Boy done good.”

And Steve decided that he’d give him a few brief seconds before starting up the rant about ruining his hair. Just this once.

*

Of course, the thing with successfully helping to fix your friends’ relationship, while being newly single yourself, was that you tend to end up with a lot of spare time on your hands. 

Spare time, which, in Steve’s experience, resulted in a remarkable amount of overthinking. Or, perhaps he was thinking about things just the right amount. Who knew. 

What he did know was this: he was one hundred percent stupidly, ardently, and irrevocably in love with one Eddie Munson. 

It was awful. Truly the worst thing that could have happened to him. If he’d known this was how love felt, then maybe he wouldn’t have spent so long searching for it. 

People had lied to him; it didn’t feel like springtime or sweet music or being cocooned in a safety blanket. It felt like a thousand tiny knives in his chest because, deep down, Steve knew—Eddie would never love him back. Not like this. Not all in, not romantically, not him above anybody else. 

He could admit it to himself, now; now that Daniel was out of the picture, now that nothing technically stood in Steve’s way. He loved Eddie but, holy hell, was he scared of losing him.

It was with that thought in mind—the thought that he’d let himself fall down this hole, had dug it himself, in fact, and he’d better be able to drag himself out of it—that he found himself wandering the city alone on a Sunday afternoon. 

The streets were emptier than they had been in the past few weeks. School had started up again, the population readying themselves once more for the shorter days. In the cafe windows Steve could see the signs for iced drinks coming down, replaced with Pumpkin Spice and Hazel Maple. A chill ran through him. 

When he crossed the bridge near his apartment, he paused half way across, his thoughts rolling back to that night not so long ago where, really, everything had changed. If he’d known then what he knew now - Well. Would it have made a difference? Maybe not. But maybe it would have. 

Fucking Daniel. 

Fucking Eddie. Fucking Eddie, with his loud smile and soft hair and sleepy, comfortable, warm aura. 

Steve never really stood a chance, did he?

“Need a jacket?”

At the voice, Steve spun around, the maddening thought that perhaps he’d summoned Eddie to him, just by thinking about him too hard, whirling through his mind. 

Standing before him, an almost contrite expression on his face, Eddie held one of Steve’s old sports jackets out towards him. 

“How did you -?”

“I was on my way to yours, spotted you leaving.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, taking the jacket from him and slipping it on, along with his usual armour of sarcasm and insincerity. 

“So you broke into my house and stole my clothes,” he drawled.

Unaffected, Eddie slotted next to him against the railings, peering down into the slow currents of the river below. “Must have done,” he said, before a melodramatic pout overtook his face. “Or, no, maybe Robin let me in and I brought your clothes to you, for you to wear, like the gentleman that I am.”

“A likely story,” Steve replied, flatly, and tugged the jacket closer around him. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Eddie sunk further down against the barrier and squinted over at Steve. “What are we doing here, then?”

What was Steve doing here? That was a really good question. 

“Thinking,” he said, simply.

The sound of Eddie’s warm chuckle filled the air as he said, “Sounds promising. Hey, so, I wanted to talk to you.”

Steve winced. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you, because, a little birdie told me -”

“Uh, Robin, what’s she done now?”

“- that you told her, that Chrissy told you, that she wasn’t interested in me. Romantically.” 

Eddie’s eyes were wide and baleful as they bore holes into the side of Steve’s face. He was going to murder Robin. Like, actually, fully murder her. 

“Jesus,” he huffed out under his breath. 

The other man carried on, with no mercy at all. “And that you were worried that’d I’d be sad about it.”

There wasn’t anything else to be done. Steve turned his head towards Eddie, took in the soft eyes, faintly amused quirk to his lips, the concerned tilt of his head. 

“Sorry,” he said, quietly.

“‘Sorry’?” Eddie repeated, and he actually laughed. “What are you sorry for?”

“You asked me to stop messing in your love life,” Steve grumbled, ducking his head. Beneath them, a family of ducks were making their way along the river, lined up one behind another. Steve watched as the last in the row paddled faster to close the space that had opened up in front of it. He sighed. “I know I always mess things up.”

There was a moment of quiet before Eddie said, “You didn’t mess in my love life, Steve. How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not interested in Chrissy.”

He sounded so sure, Steve couldn’t help the smile in his voice when he asked, “You promise?”

Eddie nodded. “I promise.” He nudged Steve’s shoulder with his own. “I thought you knew that.”

“Yeah, well. I’m pretty dumb. Everything’s in one ear, out the other.”

“Don’t.” And Eddie looked at him seriously, then, a narrow line to his lips. “You’re not dumb. You’re fucking awesome.”

Holding his gaze, Steve couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like, to be with Eddie, to have that kind of ferocity focused solely on you. It would sure be something. Whoever it was he ended up with, Steve hoped they knew how lucky they were. 

“You’re not mad at me, then?” he asked.

Eddie pulled a face. “No,” he said, sounding perplexed.

“Even though I didn’t listen to you, when you were right about Robin and Nancy,” he said. “And right about Daniel, and right about Chrissy?”

“I’m not right about everything,” Eddie interjected, rather weakly.

“Yeah, you are.” And because Steve was nothing if not reckless, and Eddie deserved to hear a compliment every now and then, deserved to know the truth; that somebody cared, that somebody saw him, that he was somebody’s number one, he added, “You’re smart. Kind. Observant. Funny.”

“Is it my birthday?” Eddie grinned, though Steve didn’t miss the blush creeping up his neck. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Because I want you to be happy,” Steve answered honestly.

With a possibly equally honest reply, Eddie said, “I am. I’m with you.”

It was a little too much for Steve to take, and he dropped his gaze once more, muttering the word, “Flirt,” out of the corner of his mouth. 

Eddie laughed. 

Behind them, cars were crossing the bridge with increasing regularity. It must be approaching rush hour, Steve thought. The breeze cooled his skin. His jacket smelled somehow of Eddie. The sweet smell of syrup wafted towards them from the dessert place on the corner. 

Next to him, he heard Eddie mutter, “If I’m always right.”

“What?” he asked, unsure of what the other man meant, but Eddie was no longer there, leaning against the railing with him. Steve turned, catching sight of the corner of Eddie’s jacket as he hurried down the steps to the riverside path.

“Come on!” he yelled over his shoulder, and Steve rushed to follow. 

With his hair bouncing against his back as he ran, and the heavy sound of his boots against the sidewalk, Steve watched as Eddie crouched down and picked up a small flower from the very edge of the path, where the concrete dropped down into the water. 

“Here,” he said, voice rough, a strange smile on his face.

Steve stood stock still as Eddie tucked the flower behind his ear, the other man’s fingers grazing, soft and warm against his skin. 

Just like that night, Steve thought. 

His heart beat faster. 

It wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t. Eddie probably didn’t even know what he was doing. How could he ? Steve barely even knew it himself.

“That night,” Eddie began, his eyes flicking between Steve’s face and the flower pressed into his hair, Eddie’s hand still lingering near Steve’s cheek, “at the gala, you know, a few things became more obvious to me. Got me thinking.” He dropped his hand. Looked at Steve fully. “I knew it before, really, but that night I realised I couldn’t just ignore it anymore.”

Oh, God. Oh, God. 

Eddie had figured him out. Shit, fuck, no. It was too soon. Steve thought he’d have weeks, months, even, to get over it; to get his feelings in check before Eddie confronted him. Now, here he was—Eddie was about to say it, to let him down gently, to tear down the very last vestiges of Steve’s fantasies. And what was Steve supposed to do? He couldn’t lie, not to Eddie, not about this. Not to his face. 

“Steve, I need to -”

“Oh, Jesus, no,” Steve whined, the sound muffled by the way he buried his face into his hands. 

Eddie stumbled at the interruption. “No?” he asked, voice breathy and small.

“No, look, let’s just - We can forget about it. Don’t - I don’t want to ruin this, you know.” 

A shocked, almost hurt look made its way across Eddie’s face. His lips trembled before he pressed them into a narrow line. “You won’t even hear it?” he said.

It stopped Steve in his tracks. 

He wasn’t supposed to be upsetting people, that was the whole point, the whole reason for - Shit. 

He ran his hand across his jaw. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I will,” he said. “We’re friends. Best friends. You can always say whatever you want to me, Eddie, okay. That’s what I mean, I don’t want anything to change that.”

Eddie just looked at him for a moment. “Best friends,” he repeated. He licked his lips and stepped closer. “You have to be honest with me, okay. Just, tell me as it is, just once, and I won’t bother you about it. Do I stand any chance?”

The sound of the traffic above, the river below, the air blowing past Steve’s ears—all of it seemed to double in volume. 

What did Eddie just say to him?

Did he just -

“Steve. My - My Steve,” the other man carried on. He sent a flicker of a smile Steve’s way. “That’s what you are, in my head, you know. It’s you and me, always. Shit, this is - I’m not good with words -” 

Steve scoffed, every other part of him alive with something. Terror. Anticipation. Hope.

“I’m not good with the right words, I mean.” And Eddie winced, shifting on the spot. He let his arms fall out to his side before reaching out to Steve, beseeching, almost, like an actor in a play. “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. I could throw some pretty words your way, or something, but I know you’d see right through them.” He laughed and ran his hand through his long hair. “You know me too well. You know my temper, my impatience with people, how I’m always so defensive. Shit, you’ve been on the receiving end of it often enough and, still, you know, you’re always so generous with me, even -” Eddie’s voice broke, then, and he took a breath. “I keep up my guard with everyone,” he said, softly. “You’ve seen it. I keep everyone out, Steve. Everyone but you. It’s ridiculous, but I think, for you, there’s a clear path right to the - right to the heart of me.”

Steve was - Steve was - Steve -

“Are you being serious?” he rasped out. Without any thought, he stepped forward, stepped closer—closer to Eddie, his oldest friend, his best friend, his - “Eddie, you can’t - If you’re joking you have to -”

“It’s not a joke,” Eddie rushed, shaking his head rapidly. He gripped onto Steve’s arm, the heat of his hand like a branding iron. “I’ve never - I would never - I always tell you the truth, Steve.” 

There was a beat. Steve could feel the petals from the flower in his hair, feather-light against his skin.

“Say something, will you?” Eddie said, voice taking on an almost hysterical tone. “I’m kinda freaking out here.”

Eddie was freaking out? 

“I don’t know what to say,” Steve replied, the truth slipping past his lips. 

And Eddie just shrugged then, a fond look on his face. “Say what you feel.”

‘Say what you feel’. As if it had ever been that easy. Except. Maybe it was. Maybe it could be that easy. Eddie was just standing in front of him, that hopeful look on his face. And Steve? There was nothing stopping him, if he wanted to, he could just -

His heart thudded loudly in his chest, so loudly that he wondered if the whole city could hear it; those stuck in traffic would surely turn down their radios and cock their heads, those comfortable at home might linger near an open window, those still toiling away at work could pause and feel the rapid rhythm of something momentous happening somewhere beyond their four walls. 

Steve cupped Eddie’s face in his hands, only taking a second to register the deep, round eyes that had widened with surprise, before pressing their lips together. 

It was springtime and music and a blanket wrapped snug around his shoulders, and Steve revelled in the feeling as Eddie melted against him. The warmth of him, the small sounds he made as Steve trailed his fingers against his cheek, the smell of his shampoo—the same one that Steve had insisted he buy years and years ago—it was all so familiar. 

And yet, somehow, all of this was so far beyond what Steve had ever thought possible. 

In the moments after Steve released him, Eddie rocked back on his heels. He blinked at Steve before saying, thickly, as if he’d had a few too many drinks, “That’s a good sign, right?”

“I love you,” Steve said, letting his beaming grin bleed into his words. “I love you, too. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Eddie let out a spluttering laugh. “Why didn’t you?” he countered. There was no heat to it; his eyes were twinkling so bright that Steve was sure it would be reflected in the river by their feet.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot, that’s why.”

“Hey,” Eddie pulled him close, murmuring softly, his breath warming Steve’s skin, “That’s my Steve you’re talking about.”

And Steve nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

*

[Image attached]

Robin 🐣🌻

What is this?

WHAT IS THIS??

STEVEN

Is that Eddie?

In your bed!?

Did you get together??

[Kermit sipping tea GIF]

Robin 🐣🌻

I knew it!

I swear, I’m never believing a single word you say ever again. 

Nancy says congratulations.

I’m gonna need details. But not too many details. 

Disgusting. 

I love you. Both of you. 

God, you’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?

😚

*

Dustin was rummaging around in the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” Steve called out. “You better be wrapping things properly, some of the shit in there is expensive!”

The other man’s capped head peered around the doorframe. 

“Now, Steve, this is what I’m talking about. I’m offended at how little faith you have in me.”

“Plates in tea towels,” was all Steve said in return. 

It had been a busy morning already and they were only halfway through. It was a good thing that Steve had roped his dad into helping them move the furniture the night before, or Steve would be running out of packing space. 

As it was, there were half-filled boxes spread out across the swathes of left-over floorspace, packing paper and trash bags and rolls of tape covering the rest. 

He huffed out a breath, blowing strands of hair away from his sweaty face. 

God, he actually hated packing, didn’t he? Should’ve just paid someone to do this for him. Next time -

The door clattered open and Nancy and Robin tumbled in, both wrapped up in hats and scarfs and heavy, padded coats, arms filled with more empty boxes that were immediately dropped to the floor.

“Jesus,” Robin groaned, pulling her scarf from her neck, “it’s warm in here.”

“Yeah, well, it’s also, like, twenty degrees outside, so that’s not helping,” Steve grumbled as he clambered up from the floor, knees clicking as he went. He winced and welcomed the pair with a swift hug. “Why did I agree to move house the week before Christmas?” 

“Because your boyfriend asked you very nicely, that’s why.”

“Is that why?” Steve teased. “Or is it because my favourite roommate decided to abandon me for another woman?” He gave Nancy a mock glower of betrayal.

“Hey,” Dustin called from the next room. “I thought I -”

But Robin barrelled over him. “I’m never abandoning you. You’re stuck with me forever. Sorry.” She sent him a trite shrug before frowning around the empty space. “Where’s Eddie? How’d he get out of this?”

Steve clicked his tongue. “He hasn’t. He’s just picking Chrissy up on the way over, they’ll be here soon. They’re bringing doughnuts.”

As expected, Robin brightened up at that, rolling up her sleeves and settling in next to the pile of books that had been dumped on the floor last night. 

Next to him, Nancy pointed back over her shoulder. “Anything ready to go down? I stole the parking spot out front.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve started. “There’s a few boxes by the door, I think they’re pretty light. Thanks, Nance, you’re a star. ”

The woman just hummed and headed back out into the hall. 

After twenty minutes of work, Steve was impressed with the progress they were making. Perhaps he and Eddie would be officially moved into the new apartment earlier than he’d thought. They could drive over to the good sushi place for takeout. 

It was as Steve was pondering whether to get the dragon roll, or venture out to the dynamite roll, that there was a loud pounding against the door. 

“Babe,” Eddie’s voice called from the other side. “Babe! Open the door, I don’t have any hands.”

Opening the door, a somewhat dishevelled-looking Eddie was revealed, hidden behind two gigantic boxes of doughnuts. His hair fell into his eyes and Steve tucked it behind his ears before moving back to let him in. 

“Did you buy the whole store?” he laughed, as Eddie peered around the tower to find a surface to drop the boxes onto. “Where’s Chrissy?”

“She’s -”

“I’m here! I’m here, sorry, hi!” Chrissy appeared in the doorway with a bright smile and a large bouquet of flowers in her hands. “You look good,” she said, beaming, and reached out to pull Steve into a hug.

Steve grunted. “I look like shit, but thank you for lying.”

“For you.” She held out the flowers towards him. “For the new place.”

“Thank you. They’re gorgeous.” And they were, truly. Chrissy always had the best eye for that kind of thing. Maybe he’d ask her for ideas for the tiny balcony the new place had, there was no doubt she could brighten that place up in a second. Steve didn’t need to look to know that Eddie would be grinning at him rather obnoxiously, delighted as he ever was to see the two of them getting along. “You want a drink?” he asked, instead, sticking his tongue out at Eddie as he passed. 

“The salon still standing without you?” Eddie asked him later, the sounds of the others diligently working away carrying on down the hall. 

Steve had retreated to the bedroom, ostensibly to start on his shoe collection, though he’d gotten distracted by his phone, of course. He sent Eddie a chastised smile and slipped the offending device back into his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yes. Lucy is exceeding all my expectations.”

“Who’d’ve thought it. Steve Harrington, someone’s boss,” Eddie teased and he came up behind Steve to wrap his arms around his middle, forcibly swaying him from side to side. “Have you started your clothes?” he muttered against the side of Steve’s face.

Steve groaned and eye’d the piles and piles of clothes that he’d hauled from the closet space. “Yeah. We’re going to have to do a bunch of trips, I think.”

“Good thing it’s not too far, then.” Eddie squeezed his sides. “Excited?”

With a pleased hum, Steve spun himself around in Eddie’s grip, curling his own arms around the other man’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. “You?”

“Nah. That’s why I’ve been letting you drag me around thousands of different homeware stores all week. ‘Cause I’m not bothered.”

“Drag,” Steve snorted. “You were having a great time.”

Pretending to think about it for a little while, Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, I was,” he admitted with a grin. “Don’t tell Dustin.”

From the bedroom doorway, a tell-tale scoff cut the moment short. 

“Too late,” Dustin crowed, already turning away. “I heard it all.”

Eddie loosened his hold around Steve, raising his voice as he asked, “Is that another doughnut? You better not be eating all the good ones …”

Steve watched Eddie stomp after the younger man with all the energy of an insolent toddler, all the while moaning about how the kid was eating him out of house and home. Further down the hall, he could hear Nancy and Chrissy loudly debating whether it was acceptable to use food products as skin care (a topic he hadn’t thought Nancy would have that much to say on, but, boy, was he wrong). In the most distant corner he could see Robin narrowing her eyes worryingly as she packed away the last of Steve’s books; he steeled himself for her onslaught of opinions on each entry later. 

Funny, really, how it had all worked out. It wasn’t quite how he had pictured it going, but he couldn’t lie, he was pretty pleased with the end results. And, actually, he thought as he caught Eddie’s eye—the other man half way to stuffing a whole doughnut into his mouth—maybe he wasn’t too bad of a matchmaker.

He’d chosen this lot, after all.