Work Text:
Steve knows Eddie is gay- knew before Spring Break, even- but he’s coming to realize that Eddie doesn’t know that he knows this.
One simple comment would solve this little mixup that has no need to become a problem.
“Hey, man, I know you’re gay. And it doesn’t bother me. So you don’t have to feel weird.”
Because he knows when Eddie is feeling weird, when he can hear the gears turning inside of his head with some kind of internal queer battle that Steve only has a faint understanding of because of Robin. When Steve lights both their cigarettes with the same flame, when throughout the course of a movie they’ve somehow ended up glued together, that one time Steve asked if he could see how his wounds were healing. He all but ripped Eddie’s shirt off, and in hindsight this probably wasn’t the best idea since he has still yet to see Eddie so bashful again.
And all of that would be fixed if Steve just told him what he knew. But every time the words start to form in his mouth, his throat goes dry and his tongue feels foreign. Each and every time he loses his courage.
Not because Eddie being gay is a problem. It might have been a few years ago. But with the direction his life has taken Steve has a lot more to worry about than boys kissing boys, and girls kissing girls, and people who crossdress. None of that really matters now that he knows that Hell isn’t just a place in a book.
No, the problem is somewhere within Steve. Pointing out the elephant in the room fills him with a feeling of dread that nearly leaves him nauseous. He’s heard Robin use the term internalized homophobia before. That’s probably what it is- that he still has work to do as far as unlearning the homophobic rhetoric he’s been around his whole life.
And that makes him feel guilty. That he could have ever agreed with any of it. Especially now that two of the most important people to him are gay. He thinks that if anything ever happened to Robin he would drop dead on the spot, his existence unwilling to continue without hers. And after watching Eddie nearly die once Steve would happily take any and all pain Eddie might receive for the rest of his life as his own.
Most nights after he sees Eddie, his face and his name plague Steve’s thoughts while he wills himself to sleep. He wonders how Eddie knew, was it like how Robin knew? She’s the only reference he has. Has Eddie ever kissed a boy? Has he ever done more than kiss a boy?
That thought had been a whole other can of worms to sort out once it was open. The possibility that there were guys around town, some that Steve might have known, that have been with Eddie. Been serenaded with his melodic voice, touched by his ringed hands.
It makes him a little mad. And it makes him a little jealous. They were super close now, right? Steve thought they were. Eddie is out enough for Steve to know through the grapevine, and might be out enough to have experimnented to know for sure.
So why won’t he tell Steve?
Maybe their friendship means more to him than it does to Eddie. That stings, but it’s not outside of the realm of possibility. Steve is usually caring about people more than what is reciprocated. It’s kind of been a theme of his life
He prefers going over to Eddie’s, but sometimes Eddie comes to his place. He always makes some kind of comment when he comes over (“I thought I was coming to hang out with my friend, not a party at Gatsby’s”), but that’s usually it. He likes smoking in the back patio, likes the eerie glow of the pool lights conjuring ever moving shadows while the weed kicks in. Which is why Steve does not like the pool. But he feels like complaining about the pool to self proclaimed “trailer trash” (even though Steve doesn’t like it when Eddie says things like that about himself) is really insensitive, so he just sucks it up for Eddie’s sake.
Steve is flying through the house to answer the doorbell that rings over and over and over again. In his mind’s eye he can see Eddie pushing it furiously, his nose scrunching up and his canine teeth showing while he curses through annoyed snarls. And normally Steve doesn’t make Eddie wait more than a few seconds before the door is open and he’s ushered inside. But he’d had his headphones on in his room, on the other side of the house.
He starts to panic, in that way that makes it feel like the walls are closing in on him, that something is wrong. When his hand lands on the doorknob he flings it open so hard it bounces off the wall. He can hear the rushing downpour of rain he had been oblivious to for only a moment before Eddie’s shoving his way inside and shutting the door behind him. They’re both panting, for different reasons, and Eddie is soaking wet. His layers of clothes were twice as heavy as usual whilst weighed down by water. Whatever of his hair that isn’t stuck to his face or his neck is curlier than Steve thinks he’s ever seen it. Small drops drip from the tip of his nose and his lips.
“Christ, Steven, I could have drowned on your doorstep, it's so bad out there.” Eddie pushes his wet bangs out of his face, and they stick up in wild directions. Then he looks down at himself, at the two shoe shaped puddles soaking into the carpet. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“You’re fine,” Steve says.
Though he’s starting to not feel so fine while he watches Eddie shrug off his jacket and the flannel he had on underneath. He’s left in a white undershirt that’s half soaked through while he also pulls off his belt, rambling about how he got it so as to say he’s not sure if the metal parts will rust if wet.
All the while Steve’s anxiety starts to climb as he wonders if this will be one of those moments Eddie gets weird about. They’re still somewhat squeezed together in the foyer (Eddie always says it in a bad french accent) that’s longer than it is wide. And the cheap material Eddie’s wearing is practically translucent where it’s wet, and clinging to his skin like it’s shilaqued on. Steve thinks that if Eddie looked more like how people wanted him to, he would be much more popular. His natural charisma is already hard to resist, but Steve thinks if Eddie looked more conventional that girls would have taken a particular interest in him.
But, then, Eddie wouldn’t want that anyway.
Would Eddie look different if he wasn’t gay?
Steve likes the way he looks now.
Eddie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box of cigarettes, where half are usually replaced with joints. Steve can tell just watching him open them that they’re wet, but if he didn’t he’d know by Eddie’s reaction. He groans, his nose scrunching up and his head leaning back so that he’s all but whining. His Adam’s apple wiggles a little. “Fuck me,” he groans, dragging the U out. He says that a lot, and Steve feels like he doesn’t hear anyone else say it often. “God, that sucks.”
“You think they can be salvaged?” Steve asks, leaning close to peer inside the box for himself. He makes sure not to touch Eddie, he’s still soaking wet.
“Perhaps…” He does a little spin, looking for something that he spots a few feet behind Steve. He watches as Eddie crouches down in front of one of the vents along the wall, emitting a faint warmth. Eddie extracts each smoke from the box and lays them out very carefully. He makes sure none of them touch, but still keeps them condensed to the middle, where the airflow is strongest.
He’s so weird. Steve couldn’t explain why, but there are moments and things that Eddie does that remind Steve of how strange Steve thought he was the first few (years) times he saw him. Only with more fondness nowadays. While Eddie tries to salvage his smokes he reminds Steve of a squirrel hiding their most prized collection of nuts. But he also thinks he’s a little weird himself to come up with that.
“Don’t think they’ll be good ‘till the morning. If they’re gonna still be good,” Eddie mutters, perfecting the placement of each before he stands up with a bit of a sigh and looks over at him. “Beer instead of weed?”
“Beer instead of weed,” Steve agrees.
They sit on the carpeted floor of Steve’s bedroom, the lights turned off so that the shimmering reflections from the pool dance across his bedroom walls. Along with the sound of the heavy rain they have a record playing, one of the ones from Steve’s collection Eddie has previously approved of. Which is a small list.
“That trailer they keep playing at Family Video- I swear it’s on every time I’m there- I finally had it come on at home. I was starting to think it was sponsored by you guys or something.”
“Which one?” Steve’s gotten pretty good at tuning the ever playing screens out at work.
Eddie hums through a sip of beer while he tries to recall the title. “Uhh, something like the Princess Wife?”
“Princess Bride,” Steve corrects.
“Oh, please forgive me,” he says sarcastically. “Whatever. I just think it might be more my speed than I thought. It’s pretty D&D coded, as far as the setting. Robin Wright is the main girl, she’s been great in everything I’ve seen so far. So that’s cool. I don’t know who that guy is; the blonde one. Never seen him before, but I sure don’t think I’d mind seeing him again. He’s so hot that his acting doesn’t even-”
The moment Eddie’s realized what he’s said he freezes, like someone’s pressed his pause button. His gaze is still fixed out the window, but his mind is somewhere else. Eddie goes tense, which makes Steve go tense, which doesn’t seem to make anything better.
Steve waits a moment or two just in case Eddie wants to break the silence before he does it himself. “Eddie-”
His name has just barely left Steve’s lips before he’s up, faster than he should be moving so soon after his full recovery. He accidentally kicks over Steve’s beer in the process, but whatever it might do to his carpet is the last thing on his mind while Steve is scrambling after him.
He’s skinny and clumsy, but damn Eddie can run fast. Steve’s just reaching the bottom half of the staircase before his front door opens once more. Eddie doesn’t shut it, so Steve gets to watch his van drive off down the road from the open doorway.
This isn’t how Steve had imagined, had hoped, this conversation would go. He thinks about finishing the rest of the six pack. He thinks about calling Robin. He thinks about screaming.
He’s only a step or two back inside when Steve sees Eddie’s abandoned jacket, shirt, and belt. Picking them up Steve decides to dry them off and return them to Eddie after using the best fabric softener and leather-care balms of his father’s that money can buy. They’ve dried off a little, and though he’s not in them they still smell like Eddie. They smell like his weed and his cigarettes, his cheap coffee and cheaper soap. His cologne, which Steve has assumed must have been a gift since it smells kind of expensive. He thinks it’s Dior, one of Steve’s cousins wears a lot of Dior.
Who’s buying Eddie Munson Dior cologne?
Steve got Nancy a Chanel perfume for their anniversary.
Has Eddie had a boyfriend? One who can afford to get him nice things he could never get for himself?
Eddie deserves it, but it nearly enrages Steve regardless.
The drive to Eddie’s trailer is kind of a blur, too focused on staying in the right lane while the rain obstructs his view to really think all that much. It’s a good thing he could drive to Eddie’s house in his sleep. Theoretically.
A Queen song plays on the radio part of the way there, and it reminds Steve of the trashy tabloid magazine covers he sees when he’s on line at the grocery store. About Freddy Mercury patrolling gay bars and bathhouses. Who fucking cares? Steve wants to ask. He’s one of the greatest artists of our generation, who cares if the people he sings about are boys or girls?
Eddie would probably sing to a boy. He’d do it all jokingly, but would sound heavenly nonetheless. Steve has no reason to be so certain of this other than the fact that he knows Eddie.
When he gets there Eddie’s sitting on the porch, curled up as tight as he can get so he’s protected by the small roof. The jacket he’s wearing must be one of Wayne’s sincen it’s big enough that all Steve can see is Eddie’s head and the hand that holds a cigarette.
His expression is unreadable while Steve makes his way over. He’s still smoking, and he’s shivering, and Steve doesn’t know why he doesn’t just smoke out his bedroom window. It’s not like he never has before.
“You left your stuff,” Steve offers lamely.
“My hero,” Eddie says, a little deadpan.
He’s mad, but Steve can only guess why. He can just tell. Eddie’s always the angriest when it’s in that quiet, calm sort of way.
“Eddie-”
“Don’t, Steve,” he says, taking one extremely long drag of his cigarette while he emerges from the jacket, before it’s dropped on the wet metal ground and immediately extinguished. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Why won’t you tell me you’re gay?” Steve isn’t sure who’s more surprised by him saying this, but indicative to how uncontrollable these words had spilled out of him they only continue to flow, and Eddie is motionless while he watches this mini breakdown of Steve’s. “I know that you’re not supposed to, like, make people tell you that. But I already knew, and I know that you told Nancy, and Robin just smelled it on you or something. And I know that it’s supposed to be your thing, but, like… I don’t know why you wouldn’t want me to know. It’s not like I would be- wait, did you think I would be all homophobic about it?” As the thought occurs to him a whole new wave of passionate, messy feelings start to bubble up. “Dude, come on, you know me. Right? I thought you knew I wasn’t a shithead like that anymore. Man it wasn’t fucking easy to-”
“Shut up!”
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and presses a finger against his lips, like he’s silently shushing himself. These little outbursts are usually born from him getting overwhelmed, but it’s hard for Steve to have the patience to oblige. Slowly, his hands come up to grip tightly at the roots of his hair. His knuckles pale. “How long did you know?”
He shifts his weight from one side to the other. “Since Sarah Peters’ brother visited from college and took you up to a gay bar in Indy, and everyone found out about it somehow. How’d everyone find out?”
Eddie’s eyes snap open while he lets out a bit of a shrill shriek and says “That was a million years ago!”
“Pretty sure it was closer to four.”
“This is a nightmare.”
“Why! What’s your problem? Or, what’s my problem, I guess. I’m not mad, so what’s the big deal?”
Eddie’s lips purse up small and his nose wiggles back and forth a few times while he moves his arms to hug himself, all whilst silent. Steve isn’t going to let the silence bother him, he’s going to let it bother Eddie first. If he doesn’t get the answer to this question that’s bothered him for months he thinks he’ll explode. “It’s…” Eddie starts, but trails off when his voice breaks a little bit. He’s trying not to cry. “It’s not the same, coming out to everyone. It’s harder with some people than others. And not just because of how they’d feel about it,” he quickly adds when Steve takes in a breath to interrupt. “I wasn’t exactly a fan of yours in school, but, what I am a fan of is hot guys. So just rub two braincells together for a second and think why it might be easier for me to tell Nancy Wheeler. Who, by the way, coaxed it out of me. It wasn’t like I offered it entirely of my own free will. She’s scary sometimes, man.”
“Yeah, she is.”
It’s not that it hurts his feelings- he’s too used to it- it’s that Eddie’s never even referred to Steve’s stupidity. Everyone has, and any jokes about it come from a place of affection. He knows that. And he knows that his importance to them isn’t about whether or not he’s smart. But Steve’s realizing now that Eddie has never even brought it up once, because he doesn’t remember ever feeling this way upon hearing it.
Eddie sniffles, lets out a bitter laugh, and swiftly brushes a hand under his eye, and suddenly Steve could cry too.
He’s too caught up in thinking about this that Eddie must assume Steve can’t figure it out and takes pity on him to spell it out. “Steve, I like you,” he says. Sadly. Like he’s telling Steve that one of his guitars spontaneously combusted. The hopeless despair of an accepted truth he can’t do anything to change. “Surprise surprise, you’re not just a chick magnet. Which was fine and all when you sucked. Believe me, I’m good at seperating the art from the artist. But you don’t suck, at all, and I kinda hate you for it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asks, nearly whispers this time. Even though he knows why.
“Would you?”
Yeah, probably not. Steve would probably rather go another round with a demodog.
“Have you ever kissed a boy?”
Eddie recoils with surprise, and he’s so caught off guard that for a second makes him forget whatever’s going on in his head, because he looks like Eddie again. “Why is that your first question?”
He’d say it’s because he’s already wondered about it dozens of times, but he keeps that to himself. “I had this friend, a kid who lived down the street when I was little. We’d hang out a lot during the summer, if one of our parents had to go out or something? There was this movie that came out one summer, it was so good. I don’t really… remember much about it though.” He hasn’t thought to wonder if this was something he remembers. “Well, we decided to memorize it. Which we didn’t do, but we memoriezed a few scenes. And we would act them out and just, like, pretend we were little badass adults. I mean, we were really young. How are five year olds supposed to know boys don’t kiss boys?”
All in all, it was one of the tamer fights with his father. Most around that age were, inherently. And though he doesn’t even remember much of what he did that his father was mad about, he remembers the fight vividly.
“It just always really bothered me, I guess.”
Eddie stares at him for a moment. He’s playing Steve’s words over and over and over like a burnt out tape- he can just tell. He can see, through the way his lips move, that Eddie runs his tongue over his teeth a little. He can see it very well.
“A few,” Eddie says, an answer to the earlier question. “‘S been a minute, though. I’m focusing on my career.”
Steve has a feeling, from the deadpan sarcasm, what he actually means is ‘my disaster of a life,’ which is extremely relatable. Both sentiments.
He’s partially upset about this- because Eddie is a really, really great guy, so he’d probably be a good boyfriend- and partially relieved about this. Steve is jealous of a boy that doesn’t even exist. Steve was envious .
He can only see so much of Eddie while it’s dark out, but the porch light both shining on them directly and bouncing off from the little roof are enough. Eddie shouldn’t have to change anything about himself to get a guy, and Steve is glad he hasn’t. Steve just can’t imagine a version of Eddie with short hair, polo’s and khaki’s, listening to whatever music is popular and going to church on Sunday’s.
His long hair, his layers of jewlery, his tattered clothes, his brazenness and attitude, all the weird shit he likes, how he can make someone laugh no matter what the situation- these are all integral to the makeup of Eddie Munson.
Steve’s never met someone like him before, and he doesn't think he ever will again.
He doesn’t want to meet someone like Eddie. Steve would rather just have him.
His hair is still a little wet, he’s made his posture small, and his eyes look like the universe- and it kind of reminds Steve of dropping Nancy off at her house one night when they first started dating. Before Barb. Not because he’s picturing Nancy- but because it all feels the same. The tightness in Steve’s chest, the fragile air between them. A moment that will last only seconds, but feels like the most important thing that’s ever happened to him as it all plays out. Eddie looks nearly terrified, but Steve feels like he’s teetering on heartbreak.
“Do you want to kiss me?”
Eddie’s eyes go so wide they could have fallen out. “Do you want me to?”
At some point after getting to Eddie’s place Steve’s brain must have had a system reboot, because this feels like an impossible question. Even though- in his own way, in the only way he’s able to at the moment- Steve is already asking him to.
Important words are always the hardest to say, and these might be the most important ones he ever says. He’s forcing it out so hard it feels like someone is punching his brain, and it’s as useless as jello. Fuck, this is hard! He gets why Eddie avoided it all together.
“Yeah.”
He would have thought Eddie to be the type to spring forward for a kiss that’s nearly an ambush, zero-to-one hundred like everything else he does. But he stays at zero, and time feels agonizingly slow while Eddie hesitates. It doesn’t scare Steve, it’s hesitation of insecurity. But he feels like a restless child on the night of Christmas Eve.
Not that they were particularly far apart to begin with, but it’s noticeable when Eddie moves closer to him when he goes out of bounds of the roof’s shelter.
“The rain-”
“I don’t care.”
Eddie’s rings are so cold against his face it sends a shiver down Steve’s spine, but it’s forgotten in an instant. Because Eddie starts kissing him, and the only thing that feels different to anyone else who has before is that it’s Eddie. He could have landed in Hawkins from a far away planet and Steve would want him all the same.
It doesn’t feel different, but it does , and it’s all a little confusing. It’s not that he’s forgotten he’s kissing a boy. There’s no way he can. Though Eddie’s always been clean shaven Steve can feel the texture of where his facial hair would be. It’s itchy, and harsh against his own, but he likes it. Eddie’s nearly his height, which no one Steve’s ever kissed before has been. When they collide, arms like thread that get so easily tangled, Steve doesn’t feel like he’s ever been this close to a person in his life. Like they could fuse together- literally instead of sexually. Though Steve thinks that would be okay too.
He’s kissing a boy, and the only thing that’s remarkable is who that boy is, and suddenly Steve feels like he could punch someone if they looked at the two of them with disgust.
Not only is there nothing wrong with it, but this is the most electric anyone has ever made Steve feel. Eddie’s palms are trembling against his cheeks and raindrops fall into their mouths while their lips move together. The rain is so loud it would be easy to forget that there’s any sign of life around them. They could be underwater. They practically are. It’s the kind of shit in movies Steve pretends not to like. Steve is totally a little bit in love with him.
Calm down, man.
Their lips part, but nothing else does. Eddie’s nose brushes against his own, sending goosebumps up the back of his neck. One of Eddie’s hands slide down to lazily hold the collar of Steve’s shirt. Steve’s hands had somehow found the smallest bit of skin uncovered on the small of Eddie’s back. He wants to kiss that spot sometime.
Steve pulls back a little, he wants to look at Eddie. See if anything’s changed about him. But he looks exactly the same as he always has. Eddie’s really beautiful, honestly.
“I really like you,” Steve whispers. Not out of fear that anyone might hear, but to relish in the fact that they’re so close that Eddie could hear anything.
He laughs a little bit. Eddie giggles, and it doesn’t seem uncharacteristic at all. He blushes, too. But Steve already knew he does that. “Yeah? Promise?”
“You wanna pinky swear about it?”
Steve does it anyway, and Eddie blushes like crazy when he links their fingers together in the space beneath their chins. He memorizes what Eddie’s hand feels like. Eddie’s face is lit up enough to compete with the moonlight.
Steve finds the courage within himself to kiss him, and he’s surprised that it doesn’t take that much. He’s pretty sure if Eddie was a girl, if the obstacle of whatever made this seem impossible was gone, this would have happened a long time ago. Like, near instantly. If Eddie was a girl Steve would have already showered him with flowers and jewlery and PDA until he’s pushing Steve off of him.
But they can’t do that, because for some reason this is a problem. Even though this feels like the best thing ever. The only part that’s going to bother him about whatever secrecy they need to keep is the fact that they’ll have to at all.
A small part of him kind of likes the idea of nobody knowing. That this only belongs to them- no one else is worthy of witnessing.
It is a shame that Steve can’t tell people what they’re missing out on by disregarding Eddie Munson. He also selfishly wants him all to himself.