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Eddie was very much aware that if anyone caught sight of his bed in its usual state, his painstakingly built reputation would be ruined forever. But in the privacy of his own place, he didn’t give a shit.
Some people had their beds piled with tons of pillows for comfort and cuddling. Instead, Eddie had his old plushies. A lot of them, frankly, but whatever, big deal. They made a very cozy pile to burrow into as he read, or listened to music, or worked on his new D&D campaign.
The things is, Before (it’s a capital Before, the way Eddie simply calls it in his head, trying not to mentally run through all that entails every time; before Chrissy levitating to his trailer ceiling, before being on the run accused of murder, before learning that the real horrors of Hawkins weren’t high school bullies, before nearly dying), Eddie didn’t get many visitors in his room. Band practice happened at Gareth’s garage, D&D took place at the school drama room, and if Eddie just wanted to smoke some weed with his band friends, they’d usually do it in the park or the woods.
And despite the fact that Chrissy meeting her fate in Eddie’s trailer ultimately brought the entire anti-Vecna teenage special forces squad there, ironically, her visit that night had saved him from any potential mockery. Because when he went to his room looking for his special K stash, he quickly stuffed all his plushies into the closet. Just in case.
(No, it’s not like he was expecting anything to happen between him and Chrissy; he would never take advantage of a girl clearly distressed by something major, especially after she’s taken drugs. He was not a piece of shit, thank you very much. But just in case she wanted to hang out in the room, either for some friendly company, or simply because it wouldn’t be wise to go home to her parents until the high wore off, Eddie prepared.)
Thank god he’d done that, because he really didn’t need to hear any opinions from that whole crowd, half-consisting of literal children. Those mattress stains were quite enough. (He didn’t bother clarifying that they were about fifty-fifty spilled beer and bong water. Buckley had already been weird about him smoking cigs, and he wasn’t in the mood for another judgmental glare. So he dodged the topic and let them all think whatever they wanted.)
Now though, several months into the After, Eddie found himself regularly seeing visitors at his trailer. Nancy Wheeler, coming over with her class notes and flash cards so he could finish summer school and graduate by fall. Robin Buckley, dropping by to exchange some tapes or books. And most surprising of all, Steve Harrington, for no real reason other than to hang out .
Everyone usually called ahead, before coming by, and Eddie begrudgingly went through the routine of making his room look presentable, all his stuffed childhood buddies put out of sight for the duration of his guest’s visit. After a while though, Steve just started showing up sometimes, whenever he knew Eddie had no plans for the evening and would most likely be holed up in his room.
Not that Eddie minded. The opposite of it, actually. His pathetic pining heart skipped a beat every time he was met with Steve’s (beautiful, stunning, mesmerizing) smile on his doorstep. He was still coming to terms with the fact that Steve Harrington wanted to spend time with the Freak of Hawkins, not out of pity, or some sense of obligation, but genuinely seeming to enjoy Eddie’s company, laughing at his jokes and listening to his ramblings. Page after page, the Munson doctrine was slowly crumbling to ash.
In hindsight, surprise visits meant that the unfortunate outing of Eddie as a plushie hoarder was bound to happen sooner or later. Eddie was aware of that, but he’s still completely unprepared for the day Harrington’s head peeks through the ajar door of his bedroom while Eddie’s in his headphones, working out the riffs of a Dio song he wanted to cover with his band, halfway buried under a stuffed animal cuddle pile on his bed.
Eddie rips the headphones off and bolts to sit upright, staring at Steve with wide eyes. Steve, to his credit, recovers first, stepping further inside Eddie’s room with his silly signature finger-wave.
“Uh… hey, Eddie,” he grins, softly clicking the door shut behind him and pointing backwards with a thumb over his shoulder. “Wayne let me in, is that okay?”
Right. Eddie couldn’t even hear his arrival. Because headphones. Uncle Wayne could have warned him about that, the traitor.
“Uhm.” Eddie clears his throat and squirms on the bed, pretending to busy himself with rewinding the tape in his walkman. “Sure. Sure, yeah, come on in.”
Steve looks like he’s desperately trying to keep his eyes on Eddie, but they keep drifting around, surveying… well… everything around him. Each step he takes towards the bed makes Eddie tense up more.
“Wow,” Steve finally says, and Eddie’s not sure what to make of his tone.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, let’s have it. Do your worst, Harrington.”
“Huh?” Eddie’s surprised to hear honest confusion in Steve’s voice. And the guy’s almost pouting, for crying out loud. “What on Earth did I do to deserve being Harrington again?”
“Whatever you’re about to say, clearly.”
“You’re so weird, Munson ,” Steve says pointedly, then turns to land backwards on the mattress next to Eddie, making it bounce along with several plushies.
Eddie remains silent, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or the first shoe, technically?
“You… seriously have nothing to comment on here?” He asks, tilting his head, like that could help him tune into whatever was going on inside Steve’s brain.
Steve shrugs, pushes one of the toys, a fluffy sheep, beneath his head like a makeshift pillow, and raises an eyebrow at Eddie.
“Like what?”
“Uh.” Eddie gestures around vaguely. “Like the elephant in the room.”
“I don’t see an elephant here,” Steve deadpans, amused notes seeping into his voice. He looks around. “There’s a bunny though, a bear, some sort of…” He narrows his eyes. “Frog? Oh, I know that one! ” Steve’s face lights up as points to the chubby orange cat. “Garfield, right? Those funny comics you like.”
Eddie’s still in a state of disbelief. Steve definitely seems entertained, and yet, he’s not laughing.
And Eddie would have been fine if he did laugh at this point, honestly. Instead, Steve’s got that strange soft smile on his face as he turns his attention from one plushie to the next, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that. He suddenly feels extra guilty about the way he openly mocked Steve’s plaid wallpaper the first time he was in the boy’s room a couple of months ago.
“Are these all your childhood plushies?” Steve finally asks, like the answer isn’t obvious, but Eddie recognizes the question for what it is, a gentle opening to talk.
“Uh. Yeah,” he replies dumbly. “Wayne’s a really good shot, you see.”
Steve stares at him, brows furrowed, not making the connection; which, well, is totally fair.
“When I was a kid… like, even before I lived with him, whenever we’d go to a fair together, he’d always go to a shooting booth so he can win whatever first prize toy was there. For me.” A small smile stretches across Eddie’s lips at the memory. “He’d always miss the first couple of shots, 'cos you know how these things are always fucking rigged, barrels bent just enough that it’s not visible to a naked eye but your aim would be a little off. But Wayne knew how to adjust for that, and after he figured out which way the angle was skewed, boom, next few shots, perfect bullseye.”
Eddie’s fully grinning now, remembering how the guys manning the booths always glared at Wayne, like it was him cheating and not them. But a win was a win, and with a crowd of witnesses cheering over Wayne’s victory, all they could do was begrudgingly hand over whichever giant plushie Eddie’s little finger would excitedly point at.
When Eddie looks up, he sees a matching grin on Steve’s face.
“Oh, I bet the booth owners were pissed, huh?" Steve chuckles. "I remember trying to impress Nancy at one of those, like an idiot, must have spent ten times the toy’s worth on tickets. Ironically, she ended up winning top prize herself, ‘cos she got bored of watching and we started taking turns. And, well, you know how she’s a way better shot than me. Must have figured out that trick like your uncle did.”
The mention of Nancy in this context (even though Steve keeps insisting she’s no longer the love of his life or whatever) sours Eddie’s mood a bit. But he’s still smiling, because not only is Steve completely unbothered by his giant stuffed animals pile; Eddie watches him as he comfortably burrows deeper inside it, picks up Rosie the Bunny and starts playing with her wire ears, bending them down and back up again, then carefully twisting them into a hilarious horn on the top of her head. There’s a soft smile on his face, even though there’s something wistful about his look.
“It’s so cool that you still have all these,” he finally speaks, untwisting the bunny’s ears back to their normal state. “My parents just gave all my toys away on my thirteenth birthday. Told me I was too old to be sleeping with plushies anymore.”
“Shit, seriously?”
“Yeah, I came home and they were all just… gone.”
“Who the fuck does that to their kid, and on his birthday ?”
Steve shrugs, like he’s honestly unbothered, even if Eddie suspects there must have been a lot of tears shed in the privacy of little Steve’s bedroom that day. His heart aches, and he resists the urge to do something stupid, like gather Harrington into a tight hug.
“My mom honestly thought she was helping, so I wouldn’t have to do all the packing myself,” Steve says. “And like, I mean, they had a point, most of these toys were just taking up closet space. I just wish I could’ve kept Kiki.”
“Who’s Kiki?”
Steve smiles. “It was this giant monkey. Or, well, I guess she seemed giant at the time. She had these long noodle arms and legs. When I was little I’d tie her arms around my neck and carry her around with me like a backpack, and I remember her legs would almost reach the floor.”
They both fall silent for a minute. Eddie hugs a big brown teddy bear to his chest (his favorite, don’t tell Garfield) and tries to imagine Wayne doing what Steve’s parents did; he can’t. Frankly, he can’t even imagine his father doing that. Al Munson was a piece of shit and a terrible parent on many accounts, but he was never outright cruel.
“Shit,” Eddie says. “I can’t believe your parents just tossed all your plushies. That’s such bullshit.”
“They said they gave them away to a children’s home, actually,” Steve replies. “They probably didn’t lie. It’s not like they could make a lot of money selling used toys, and if you have a big donation there’s even volunteers who will drive over to your place and take the stuff, I checked. Either way, I choose to believe that.”
Eddie knows precisely why.
“'Cos that means your plushies are still being loved, right? Making some kids happy?”
“Yeah, exactly,” Steve confirms with a bittersweet smile.
Damn Steve Harrington and his big soft heart when it comes to children. Eddie pretends to scratch his forehead so he can discreetly wipe at his eyes with a forearm.
Steve puts Rosie away and reaches for the bear, moving it to his own lap.
“Who’s this?” He asks, grinning as he pokes at the teddy’s ridiculous smiley face.
“Oh. That’s… that’s Mr. Boogers.” Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes. “Please don’t ask.”
Still grinning, Steve turns to him. “Well, now you know I gotta.”
Eddie groans, rubbing a hand across his flustered face, and figures he might as well tell the story now that he’s dug his own grave. “He was, uh… kinda defective from the start, there were some stitches loose around his nose and there was stuffing coming out of it, like… well…”
Steve giggles. “Boogers. Gotcha.”
“Yeah. Wayne grumbled about it and wanted to ask for a different one, but I was already in love with this one and clung to him and refused to trade. Cos like, you know how plushies of the same type are supposed to be identical but they’re really not ? And one of them has that perfect face and the others just seem off?”
Eddie blushes, thinking now would be the moment he finally gets ridiculed for being twenty years old and having strong opinions on plushie faces of all things, but Steve just smiles and nods.
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. I once spilled some gouache on a Mickey Mouse I owned and instead of washing him, mom just bought me a new one of the same series.” Steve sighs. “It was obvious 'cos his eyes were a little closer together and his smile wasn’t crooked to the left. I knew he wasn’t the same Mickey.”
Again, Eddie’s heart aches for little Steve, like pretty much any time the boy reveals stories from his childhood in a tone too lighthearted for the words spoken, in Eddie’s opinion. Rich people really don’t value anything, huh. (With Steve being the obvious exception.)
“Yeah, see? You get it!” Eddie exclaims, pointing at Steve and putting more excitement into the words than he feels. Mostly, he just feels relieved and pleasantly surprised at how unexpectedly he and Steve managed to bond over their shared fondness for their childhood toys. “So anyway, Wayne relented and we took this funny guy home, my uncle patched him up, but the nickname stuck. Mr. Boogers. Boogie for short.”
Steve laughs again, but there’s nothing malicious about it as he looks back to the teddy in his lap and flicks his ear.
“Nice to meet you, Boogie,” he says with an affectionate smile that makes Eddie want to burrow his face into the mattress and giggle like an idiot.
And maybe scream a little, because what the fuck. It should be illegal for your crush to talk cute to your goddamn childhood plushies.
Even more illegal for your crush to be snuggling your favorite teddy bear for the remainder of their stay in your room, and yet Steve seems completely unaware that he’s literally turning Eddie’s insides into mush as he does that. They spend another hour trading childhood stories, and Steve asks about every single toy on the bed, and by the end of that evening, Eddie’s fully, one hundred percent doomed. If he had a crush before, now it’s bloomed into a properly deep infatuation (Eddie refuses to use the L-word, even in his mind, because that’s just… too much).
“I should go,” Steve says after a while, glancing at his watch. “Morning shift tomorrow, ugh.” He sits up, Boogie still in his arms, and lets go of him with such reluctance that Eddie speaks without thinking.
“You can take him, you know,” he blurts out. Steve glances between the bear and Eddie, confusion in his face, and Eddie blushes. “I mean. He can keep you company. I think he likes you.”
A smile slowly spreads across Steve’s features, eyes wrinkling at the corners.
“Yeah?” He asks hopefully, picking the teddy up again and holding him like a small child, the bear’s legs hugging his hips. He glances at Eddie again. “You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Eddie replies with a grin, fondness squeezing at his heart. Steve looks genuinely happy.
***
A few days later, Steve pops by Eddie’s trailer and brings Boogie back with him.
“Did you two get into a fight?” Eddie jokes, making Steve laugh.
“Nah,” he replies, placing the plushie in Eddie’s lap. “He was just missing his daddy.”
Eddie hides his face against the teddy's head and tries desperately to be normal about Harrington calling him… that . Even in this childish context.
They hang out, watch some trashy horror movie together, smoke a joint, and at the end of the night, Steve leaves with the plush Garfield under his arm.
***
Steve keeps borrowing Eddie’s plushies, one after another, always bringing them back after several days. Eddie doesn’t question that, at least not out loud.
Steve’s made an offhand joke about it, but maybe he thinks Eddie misses each of his plushies, and that’s why he never takes one away for too long. It’s ridiculous, of course; Eddie would gladly give them all to Steve, permanently. Well, okay, realistically, maybe half of them.
Suddenly though, he’s struck with an even better idea.
***
Eddie goes through three different toy stores in Indy until he finds what he was looking for. A big stuffed monkey with long dangly arms and legs, just like Steve described. She’s goofy and cartoonish, her fur bright yellow, a color Eddie knows that Steve likes. She wears a funny smug expression, like she’s just told a hilarious joke. She’s absolutely perfect.
It’s late when Eddie gets back to Hawkins, but he knows Steve’s got the next day off and is very likely still awake, so he drives straight to his place and rings the doorbell, holding the plush monkey tight under his arm.
As the door opens, Steve greets him with that big smile that never fails to make Eddie’s heart jump. And then, his eyes shift to the monkey in Eddie’s arm and widen.
Grinning, Eddie brings the toy up in front of his own face and starts speaking in a silly high-pitched voice, shaking her head by the neck.
“Hi Steve! Eddie’s told me a lot about you. I would very much like to live with you!”
When Eddie peeks over the monkey’s head, he finds Steve laughing silently with his head ducked, his cheeks flushed pink. Eddie steps through the doorway; Steve takes a step back, letting him in, and shuts the door behind him.
“Jesus Christ, Eddie, are you for real?” He asks, his voice full of wonder and something soft and fragile. He reaches for the plushie, and Eddie hands her over, shrugging shyly and stuffing his now empty hands in his jeans pockets.
“I know she’s not the same as the one you had, but–”
“She’s perfect,” Steve interrupts him. He doesn’t even question why Eddie thinks it’s a girl. “Thanks, Eddie, this is…” He trails off and shakes his head, his eyes looking a little wet. “You really didn’t have to do this.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t?” Eddie tilts his head teasingly. “Fine then, she can live with me.”
“No fucking way!” Steve clings to the plushie protectively and turns his body away from Eddie, getting her out of his reach. “Mine,” he grumbles, burying his face in the soft yellow fur and jogging up the stairs to his bedroom.
Laughing giddily, Eddie follows him.
He expects Steve to just put the monkey in his bedroom; instead, Steve falls back on his bed with the plushie still against his chest. Picks her up above his head and looks at her, pure childish joy across his face.
“What are you gonna call her?” Eddie asks softly, joining Steve on the bed and leaning against an elbow.
“Hmm. I don’t know yet. It’s a big decision. Any ideas?”
Eddie taps on his chin, thinking. “Your last one was called Kiki, right? What about Mimi, then? Very on brand.”
Steve giggles. “That’s cute. Alright, she can be Mimi.”
Eddie bites the inside of his cheek and looks away, his gaze falling on his own stuffed toy that Steve’s borrowed this week. A sad-looking green dinosaur named Patrick. Eddie has no memory of why he called him that.
As if on cue, Steve speaks again, sounding strangely nervous for the question he asks.
“Hey, can I still borrow your plushies sometimes? You know, just so Mimi doesn’t get lonely when I’m at work.”
Eddie chuckles. “Stevie… if you’ve grown attached to my little guys, you can just take a few. Like, permanently. I’ve got plenty.”
Steve looks at him for a long moment, opens his mouth as if to speak, closes it again and heaves a sigh. Then, as if making up his mind, he finally speaks, his voice timid, barely above a whisper.
“They stop smelling like you after a few days.”
“Huh?” Eddie blinks rapidly several times. His heart reacts first, hammering away before he even processes the meaning of the words, because… there are actually very few ways to misinterpret that. Zero, probably.
“When I take them, they still smell like you,” Steve clarifies, turning to look at his stuffed monkey like he can’t meet Eddie’s eyes anymore. His cheeks are turning a bright red color. “I sleep better with them. Haven’t had a nightmare in a few weeks, actually, it’s like… like you’re here. And everything’s better when you’re around.” He throws a brief glance at Eddie and looks away again. “Sorry if that’s weird.”
Very cautiously, feeling a bit insane and still scared that he’s misreading the signals, Eddie speaks up, shuffling a little closer to Steve. “You know, if you wanna cuddle something that smells like me, you can just… well…” Eddie bites his lip shyly and pats his own chest. “Pick the original.”
That gets Steve to look at him. And there’s hope in his eyes, but also uncertainty, just enough that it makes Eddie backtrack a bit.
“It, uh... It doesn’t need to mean anything, it can be totally platonic, if you want.”
Steve licks his lips, visibly swallows. Waits a beat.
“And if that’s not what I want?”
It’s like a kick to his chest, all the air leaving Eddie’s lungs in a whoosh.
“Don’t toy with a fragile queer heart like that, Stevie,” he says, aiming for a playful tone, but it comes out raw and shaky.
He’s pretty sure Steve knew, already. Well, about the queer part of it at least, even though there’s only ever been cautious hints on Eddie’s part. And in hindsight, the way he feels about Steve might have been pretty obvious as well. Still, saying those words out loud is one of the most nerve-wracking things Eddie’s ever done. (Willingly, that is. The whole Vecna and Upside Down business doesn’t count.)
“You’re not toying with mine, are you?” Steve shoots back, equally vulnerable, and Eddie’s heart soars.
Eddie has a million questions running through his head, like are you serious and since when and what the fuck and why me , but he puts them all in the back of his mind and just lets that feeling of pure elation course through him, making his guts do somersaults in his belly and his skin literally tingle.
“C’mere, sweetheart,” he says, gently tugging on Steve’s arm, and he doesn’t need to ask twice.
Steve immediately rolls to his side and wraps an arm around Eddie, snuggling up to him, pressing their chests together and legs tangling as he tucks his head underneath Eddie’s chin. Eddie grins happily and hugs him tight.
Steve lets out a perfectly content hum and then takes a deep breath against Eddie’s collarbone. Eddie’s heart might just burst.
Holy shit, he’s cuddling. With Steve Harrington. Somehow, it’s better than any first kiss Eddie sometimes let himself fantasize about. Maybe because there’s still a promise of that in the air, unspoken yet certain, in every warm puff of breath on his neck and each tentative stoke of fingers along his spine. It can wait; currently, he’s just obsessed with having the boy in his arms practically purr as Eddie gently runs his fingers through his hair.
“You were right,” he hears Steve mumble to his chest, muffled and already sleepy. “The original is better.”
Biting back the beginnings of a giddy high-pitched yelp, Eddie closes his eyes and lets himself bask in it all, warmer and comfier than he’s ever been in his life. I’m gonna kiss this boy good morning, is the last thought in Eddie’s head before he drifts off.