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“So, you like the guy? Him? Really?” Gareth asks, disdain dripping from every word so clearly Eddie nearly cringes. Nearly.
“It’s just ‘cuz the guy presented as an omega. Ain’t that right?”
Eddie throws a french fry at Grant. He can’t stand that gendered talk. As if just because Eddie himself is an alpha, then that must mean he’ll automatically want the most eligible omega in school? Please.
He says as much, tacking on a put upon, “You all know me better than that. Get your heads out of the eighteen-hundreds. Get creative.”
Jeff is the first to huff at that. “It’s not like we blame you. Harrington’s been the most popular guy in school even before he presented. I think the public masses will forgive you this one trespass into conventional.”
“Yeah, the omega thing just made him more of a slut if anything,” Gareth says, laughing as he dodges another fry. “You’d probably be able to get it in if you asked real nice.”
It draws waves of snickering laughter from the group as Eddie practically upends his entire serving of fries to show them just how gross he thinks they are. He is not some knotheaded alpha looking to get his dick wet in Hawkins High’s most flirtatious jock. No matter how clear his sexual escapades are.
No. In fact, Eddie is just finding it harder to ignore his longstanding crush with every passing day he spends not talking to Steve Harrington.
Steve is his ultimate shame, in that nobody knows his number one late night fantasy is imagining getting Steve on his back, in his bed, surrounded by Eddie’s lopsided pillows in a makeshift nest while he breeds Steve full. He’s gotten off more times to the idea of Steve smelling like him, of being round with his pups than anything else.
It’s all so objectively normal.
Eddie is contrarian extraordinaire. He can’t be caught wanting the omega with a house full of kids. It’d ruin his well-curated image of cultural rebel.
He has a clear view of Steve, seated as always with his friends, a new group that struck him as odd only recently.
Steve came to school one morning smelling fresh, sweet, and warm. A week later, he began eating with his ex, her new beau, and the band geek. The one Eddie suspects he has something in common with, based on the few band classes he’d bothered to attend. She’d stared way too hard at Tammy Thompson.
Steve seems happier lately. Even now, he’s laughing at something one of the others said, teeth gleaming even from so far away.
Eddie could make him laugh like that. Probably. He’s always been good at getting people to laugh.
And like a well-made watch, the intrusive thoughts come back around. Teasing Eddie with the imagined visual of Steve Harrington, pregnant, head in Eddie’s lap, smiling at something Eddie said or did.
And hell, if the thought of it all doesn’t make his mouth water, gums tingling with the hint of fangs.
Eddie shoves a handful of fries in his mouth to quell anything stupid that might worm its way off his tongue.
Horny pining Eddie is not to be trusted. This he knows.
-
Eddie’s so caught up in his search for something that he misses entirely when Wayne comes home the next morning. All he hears is a cleared throat, and he’s jumping a foot out of his skin, heart pounding.
Eddie whirls, falling back on Wayne’s dresser where he’d been snooping. He plays it up, hand on his chest.
“You nearly gave me a conniption!”
His uncle rolls his eyes. He sits down on the edge of his bed, unbothered by Eddie going through his underwear and sock drawer.
“Not that this isn’t one of the more normal things I’ve walked in on you doing, but what’s got you sneaking around about it?”
Eddie crosses his arms, heat climbing his neck to settle in his ears.
“I, uh. Well, it’s. It’s…embarrassing.”
Wayne barks a laugh at that. “You, embarrassed? Now there’s a laugh.”
“Ha ha. Don’t worry about it, I’ll get out of your hair. Or I would, if you had any, old man.”
Wayne delivers a fond smack to his hip, wrestling Eddie as he tries to slip past. He gets Eddie in a gentle headlock before he pretends to go down for the count, sprawling on the floor.
Wayne is smiling at him, and Eddie groans. Covers his entire face with his arm.
“I was looking for a courting locket.”
Silence. No movement. Eddie hears the blood rushing through his ears, his entire body. He might as well shrivel up and wither away. Better to live as a decrepit husk than whatever sappy shit this makes him.
He hears Wayne step around him, going over to his closet. Hears rustling and then the familiar creaking of old knees as his uncle crouches by his head.
He pats Eddie’s arm that still covers his blushing face. Says, “Happy to hear you’ve got somebody kid. Hope it works out for ya.”
Only once he hears the shower turn on does Eddie remove his arm and sit up.
There’s a small leather box on the carpet.
Inside is an old silver locket.
-
The gift burns a hole in his breast pocket until halfway through lunch, weighty and meaningful in a way he’s never had to worry about before.
Eddie has never courted someone before. He’s barely ever entertained the thought, not after his parents split, his mom died, and he realized he liked guys more than he’d ever like girls.
All that to say, he’s not interested. The one slightly unconventional thing about his ill-advised crush is that Steve is a male omega. That pursuing him romantically would be an act of rebellion, small though it was, should have lightened the burden. But it didn’t. It didn’t even scratch the surface of his anxiety at the prospect.
He’s never spoken to Steve. Why would Steve say yes to being courted by him?
Failure doesn’t typically scare him. He’s failed at shows, he’s failed in school, twice, and he’s failed in fights plenty. But the idea of failing at this has his skin crawling.
He makes some excuse he doesn’t hear himself make to his friends before dipping out to the field. It rained throughout second period, leaving the long stretch of grass sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. A few people are running. The cheer team is sitting on the bleachers with their food. He can see Chrissy sitting in the middle of the cluster of girls. Can almost hear her voice in his head, telling him it’s worth it to be brave.
Eddie chooses a spot under the opposite bleachers. Smokes a cigarette and mulls over the best tactic to make his move. He doesn’t want to be someone who runs, it’s something he’s been actively working on in campaigns with the guys. But that’s just fiction. Real life is different.
And if he chickens out, he’ll have to give the locket back to Wayne. That’s almost more embarrassing than anything else about this.
He groans, crouching in the damp dirt with his face in his hands.
Eddie smells wet grass and mud and tobacco until he catches a hint of citrus, of cinnamon beneath it.
The cigarette is plucked from his fingers, and as he looks up, sees it placed between the plush lips of flush-faced Steve Harrington.
Steve holds his eyes. In the shade, they look darker than they really are. Knows there’s a honeyed forest hidden between the tree bark brown. But now, like this, it’s all cold shadow.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Steve asks, taking a drag. “Robin’s been trying to get me to quit.”
That explains nothing about why Steve is here.
“They calm me down,” he adds, as if that helps.
“Okay.”
Steve frowns a little. Looks more like a pout. Eddie straightens up, doesn’t enjoy feeling wrong footed. He doesn’t know what this is, but it could still be a trap. Steve used to keep mean company. One of his old buddies might be lurking.
“Relax. I followed you. Just me.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow. Accepts the cigarette when it’s offered back. Tries not to think he’s placing his lips where Steve’s just were.
“Or, hm. That didn’t really sound great, did it? I uh. I smelled you.”
Eddie takes a sniff near his shoulder, wondering if he sweat through both leather and denim from his nerves. That would just figure.
Steve winces. “No, I mean. You kind of. You smelled distressed all morning. I was wondering if…” Steve cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. “Never mind. It’s not your problem.”
Eddie surprises them both when he catches Steve’s wrist in his fingers. His skin tingles. He drops the hold when Steve doesn’t make to leave.
“It’s fine. I actually wanted to talk to you.”
Jesus, it’s happening. This is it.
If he backs out now, he’s sure he’ll get harassed for it. Word travels fast in a place like Hawkins.
“You did?”
Eddie isn’t hopeful enough to name Steve’s tone as pleasantly surprised.
But it sure sounds like it.
“Yeah. But uh—you first?”
Steve lets out a dry huff. “You sure you want to know? It’s kind of weird.”
“My middle name is weird,” Eddie reminds him. “I’m the school freak. I can take it.”
Steve considers him, and it occurs to Eddie that Steve has no reason to trust him either. A lot of the jocks feared him and his friends, a hard-earned reputation that only spared them a bit from the worst of confrontation. But maybe Steve was scared of him too. On his own like he is, he might be wondering if Eddie’s friends were about to show up to return the favor.
Eddie tries to soothe his scent. He’s never been the best at controlling it, absolutely sucks at reining it in when he absolutely needs to. But he’s learned to kind of curb the roughest edges of his feelings when he wants.
Steve sighs, hanging his head. When he lifts his chin, he falls into place beside Eddie, their shoulders touching.
“Well, you know how I presented a while back?”
Eddie sucks in a lung full of the warmth Steve is putting out as quietly as he can. “Uh huh. Turns out you’re an omega, right?”
Steve sends him a knowing look. “Yeah, two years later than everybody else. Who even presents at seventeen? That’s weird.”
“Preaching to the choir.”
He takes a bit more weight from Steve as he leans against him. Has to fight the impulse to wrap a possessive arm around Steve’s shoulders.
“I don’t know how everybody deals with everything being turned up to ten all the time. I can like, smell everything in a few feet from me. I can feel the emotions of others if they’re big enough. I can practically taste them.”
Eddie nods, at a loss. Presenting as an alpha had come on the heels of a rough weekend of a first rut, followed by a couple of weeks getting used to the body odor of everyone else. The first month was a little hellish, but beyond that it had been nothing so distracting as what it sounds like Steve’s been going through.
Gareth is an omega, but he’s never mentioned anything close to tasting emotions. Maybe it just wasn’t discussed?
“Yeah, presenting sucks. But after a while things will even out.”
Steve takes the cigarette back without asking. Eddie likes that. Likes he doesn’t ask, doesn’t bother with pleasantries. Just takes what he wants, and says what he wants no matter social decorum.
“That’s the thing. It has, and it hasn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like my friends? Most of everybody at school I can tune out. It’s almost normal now. It’s only ever a problem when people are really angry, or really sad.” He glances quickly at Eddie before looking away again, cheeks pink. “Or really horny.”
Oh. “Oh.” He clears his throat. Hopes his scent is giving off normal instead of, But I’m really horny! All the time! For you! Because that would cause him to have to move countries. “You, uh. You can tell even from far away?”
“Only if they’re strong. Otherwise, I guess it’s like anybody else. Only noticeable when you’re physically close.”
“I’m sure it’ll level out. Just have to give it time, right?”
“That’s the other thing,” Steve says. “There’s only one time it never stops. It’s constant. Their scent leaves a path through the halls, through the town, the woods. I can smell them anywhere they’ve been recently. It’s kind of driving me crazy.”
Eddie swallows thickly. Cinnamon fills his nostrils, floods his sinuses.
“T-them, huh? You tell them yet?”
Steve holds the cigarette back out, hovering between them. He’s looking at Eddie again.
“I’m trying to.”
“Oh.” Eddie swallows and swallows, drowning in the scent of fresh pastry. It’s getting stronger, that delicious scent that trails through the school day after day, haunting him.
A scent that’s stronger than all the rest.
Oh. Oh no.
“You…Maybe you could ask them to put some patches on. So you don’t have to deal with that.”
Steve keeps going as if Eddie never said a thing. “I can tell when he’s happy. When he’s sad, or angry. That one’s rare, which is nice. I can smell when he’s upset, usually after a test, or the start of class.”
He shares two classes with Steve.
Eddie takes the cigarette and breathes it down to embers.
“I can tell when he’s turned on. Frustrated.”
Eddie flicks the butt to the ground, shoving it into the mud with the toe of his sneaker.
“When he’s nervous.”
“Yeah? You can tell all that?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can, Eddie. And I don’t know why it’s you, but it is. You’re the only person who—who lingers when everyone else’s scent has faded. You’re the only one who I can pinpoint what they’re feeling even if you’re across a room.”
His throat has gone impossibly dry. His mouth is no better off. Maybe he should ask Steve if he has any chapstick.
“And what am I feeling right now?”
“You’re…” Steve wrinkles his nose, and it’s cute. Ugh. Eddie turns to face Steve. Wants more of that lovely bakery scent. Ingredients and fruit, everything you need for a home made tray of muffins, or, or a spiced coffee cake. Steve mirrors him, a hand coming to tease fingertips over the lapels of his battle vest. “You’re scared, I think. But I don’t know why.”
“Maybe he’s scared for a few reasons.”
Eddie watches, paralyzed, as Steve loops a finger through a button hole, thumb occupied below with a frayed thread.
“Will you tell me what you’re scared of?” Steve asks, not partial to pretense it seems.
“No one has ever stuck around in my head like you have, Steve,” and that’s the first time he’s ever called him his name, isn’t it? And he’s still standing. “Even before—before I found out you were an omega. You’ve always just…been there. I don’t know why.”
“You think it’s—”
“I don’t know,” Eddie interrupts. He can’t think that. Scent mates are something for the fable fond. Not losers like him, who peddle drugs and get taken away by the state because his parents weren’t like the love stories his mother used to read. No, the tales he likes are all dark, all failures. “I don’t know.”
The draw between them ebbs back and forth. Magnetic in a painful way that Eddie almost gives in to.
Steve saves him. He flattens a palm against Eddie’s chest and pushes away. Gives them both a few feet to breathe. Recalibrate.
“What did you want to talk to me about? Was it this?”
Yes and no.
Mostly not.
He rubs a hand over his mouth, bitting up to the first knuckle of his pinky finger before using the same hand to take out the leather box.
It’s small. Well worn. He holds it out and lets Steve take it, feels his heart lurch at how carefully Steve cradles it.
At their age, it’s clear what it is. Steve stares down at it like Eddie just handed him a feral cat.
This was a mistake. It was a stupid idea doing this. Indulging in the half-assed support his friends gave him the other day, giving into the urge to do something about his illogical crush. He never should have—
He inhaled, his breath catching as he delicately lifted the top.
Eddie can’t see it from where they’re standing, but he’s memorized every detail.
Smooth silver. Old. It had been his grandfather’s during the war. He survived Germany and isolated himself only to end up having children late in life. Ended up dying before he could give the heirloom to Al, and by then Al didn’t want it. Had insisted it should belong to Wayne, that he wouldn’t have use for it in the state pen.
At nineteen, Wayne had given the simple locket to his first and only love. A female beta who married someone else. Wayne left Tennessee and came to Hawkins and the rest is history.
Eddie isn’t sure of the more intricate details, but it’s been sitting in the back of Wayne’s closet ever since, apparently.
It had been empty when Eddie opened it. Had figured it made sense Wayne wouldn’t have kept the memory of his failure for anyone to see.
It’s smooth save for the beveled edge of a delicate vine curling around the edge of the top.
When Steve meets his eyes, Eddie is stunned to find them wet.
He made Steve tear up.
“Um. Open it,” Eddie murmurs.
Steve does, lips parting when he sees what Eddie knows he’s looking at.
A curl of Eddie’s hair. A token, a keepsake. One of the oldest rituals in proper, formal courting. And maybe Eddie is a rebel, but maybe he’s a little old fashioned too.
It’s not so uncommon it’s unknown, but it’s not the norm. Not when casual dating and hooking up is so much easier than making a claim.
Claims, matings, bonds—that’s all stuff for later.
“So it’s mine. My hair. For you to wear. Around your neck, you know? Of course you know, what am I saying? But it’s to keep a piece of me with you. If you want. If you’ll have me. To court. If you’ll court me.” Fuck. Eddie braces himself, takes a breath. Tries again. Because he can’t run away, not now. “I wanted to ask if you’ll allow me to court you, Steve Harrington.”
Eddie only just avoids tacking on a please.
“You’re a romantic,” Steve says, awe in his voice. “Of course you’re a romantic.”
He can’t read his tone.
“Is that a good thing?”
Steve closes the distance between them in a moment, crushing Eddie in a one armed embrace around his neck. And god he smells so good up close. Dares to hug Steve back, to wrap his arms around him and nuzzle his face in the crook of his neck. The place that smells so sweet and so Steve.
Eddie can tell Steve is smiling against him, can feel it against his mating gland.
And he can tell he’s happy, positively glowing.
So he’ll take that as a yes.