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The air in Steve’s bedroom was thick with the scent of stale cigarette smoke and unspoken tension. They were supposed to be reviewing D&D campaign notes, but for the last hour, the conversation had been nothing but practiced, dizzying back-and-forth banter—flirting so overt it was practically a physical obstacle course.
Steve leaned against his desk, casually running a hand through his perfect hair, the movement slow and deliberate, designed to catch the light and Eddie’s attention. It worked. It always worked.
“You know, Harrington,” Eddie said, tossing his pick onto the floor with a sharp clatter, “for a guy who claims he can’t handle a complex campaign, you’re really good at running interference.”
“Interference? I’m just being myself, Munson,” Steve countered, his smile doing that thing that made Eddie’s stomach clench—a mix of cocky and genuinely warm. “Or do you only like it when you’re the one being charming?”
“Oh, I like it fine,” Eddie snapped, the playful edge suddenly gone, replaced by a raw, frustrated clarity. He stood up, pacing the small space. “The problem is that I don’t get what game this is. Because for me this isn’t a game, and for you… well, for you I’m pretty sure it has to be, right?”
Steve’s smile vanished. The casual slump of his shoulders straightened into defensiveness. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means the whole world knows Steve Harrington. The Steve Harrington. The girls, the parties, the reputation,” Eddie gestured wildly. “I’m not blind, man. I know the rules. But you come over here, almost every night, acting like… I don’t know, like you want to rewrite the entire damn manual, and then you just hit the pause button and we pretend it’s all just fun and games when you leave."
He stopped right in front of Steve, who was looking anywhere but at Eddie’s face—at the floor, the chipped bedside table, the ripped poster tacked to the wall.
“Look at me, Steve,” Eddie commanded, his voice shaking slightly despite his effort to keep it steady. “I can handle the rejection, but I can’t handle being confused anymore. If I’m just your weird little post-trauma buddy you like to flirt with, fine. If I’m a joke, fine! But this constant, agonizing maybe? It’s going to kill me.” He paused, his gaze burning into him. “Just be honest, Steve.”
The silence that followed was heavy, louder than any metal riff. Steve finally looked up, and the look in his eyes wasn’t casual or cool; it was terrified. His hands, usually so confident, fidgeted uselessly by his sides.
“Fuck, Eddie, I… I can’t be honest because I don’t know how to be the guy you need me to be,” Steve whispered, his voice hoarse. He pushed off the desk, running a shaky hand over his face. “You’re right about the manual. I thought I knew the fucking manual. And then I met you, and suddenly the pages started blurring.”
He took a deep, painful breath. “I’ve spent my entire life thinking I knew exactly what I liked. Girls. That’s it. That’s the rule! But lately, when I’m not with you, I’m thinking about you. When I’m fighting things, I’m thinking about you, about protecting you. When you look at me like that, like you’re actually seeing me for the first time… it’s the best feeling I’ve ever had. And it’s not just friendship, Eddie. I know it’s not.”
He swallowed hard, the confession heavy on his tongue. “I think… I think I’m bisexual. I don’t know how long I’ve known, or if it’s just something that you made me realize, but the thought of telling anyone, of what that means for my life, it scares the hell out of me.”
He looked completely undone, King Steve dethroned by his own heart.
“I was flirting because I couldn’t stop. I was pulling away because I’m a coward. But I like you, Eds. I like you so much it’s all I can think about. And that’s the honest truth.”
Eddie’s own breath hitched. He hadn’t expected the truth to be so raw, so messy, or so incredibly flattering. He felt the tension drain from his shoulders, replaced by a dizzying wave of tenderness.
“You’re not a coward, Steve,” he said softly, taking a cautious step closer. “You just told me one of the scariest things you’ve ever felt. That’s the furthest thing from cowardice.”
He reached out, his fingers brushing the fabric of Steve’s polo. “You think I don’t get scared? My life is a parade of scary things. But if you’re scared, we’ll fight those shitty scary things together, okay?”
Steve nodded, his eyes shining with unshed tears and sudden, fragile hope. As Eddie moved closer, closing the last inch of distance, Steve didn’t hesitate. He closed the gap, tilting his head just slightly.
The kiss was clumsy, hesitant—a soft collision of lips and breath. It tasted like nervous relief and the nice coffee Steve had been nursing. It was everything Eddie had hoped for and nothing like the confident, sweeping gesture he’d imagined. It was just them, scared and real.
When they pulled back, both of them breathing raggedly and red as fuck, a goofy, bewildered smile stretched across Eddie’s face.
“Well,” Eddie murmured, his voice thick, “that certainly clarifies things.”
Steve laughed, a small, genuine sound that settled something deep in Eddie’s chest. Before either of them could overthink it, Eddie pulled Steve against him, wrapping his arms tight around his middle. Steve melted instantly into the embrace, burying his face in Eddie’s shoulder.
It was a hug meant to anchor them both, a silent promise that whatever terrified them outside the house could wait. Inside, right now, everything was finally clear.
Eddie reluctantly pulled back from the hug, but only enough so their chests were still touching, letting his hands settle comfortably on Steve’s waist. He looked down at Steve’s flushed face—the King of Hawkins High looking like he’d just run a marathon—and a new, easy smile broke through
“So, to recap,” Eddie murmured, his voice laced with mischief. “Steve Harrington, who thought his compass only pointed north, has just discovered a very large, very attractive magnetic anomaly over here with me.”
Steve let out a watery, startled laugh, covering his face with one hand. “God, you’re insufferable. Yeah, Munson. Something like that.” He dropped his hand, and his eyes were serious again, searching Eddie's. “I’m still completely freaking out, you know. Not about you, but about… this whole thing. Like, how am I supposed to—?”
Eddie gently cut him off by pressing a thumb against Steve’s lower lip. “Hey. Slow down. We don’t have to figure out the rest of your life right now, okay? All we had to figure out was this maybe,” he tilted his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners, “and we did. And for the record, whatever you are—straight, bi, secretly an alien—it doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is that you like me and I like you too.”
He leaned in, his confidence restored. This time, the kiss wasn’t a clumsy question, but a definite statement: they were starting something. It was deeper, slower, and tasted like commitment and promise. Eddie felt Steve’s hands finally move from his sides, coming up to cup his face, his touch possessive and tender all at once.
When they parted, Steve rested his forehead against Eddie's, breathing in tandem. “I like you, Eddie,” he repeated, the words sounding less terrified and more grounded this time. “Thank you for not making this worse.”
“When do I ever make anything worse?” Eddie joked, though he squeezed Steve’s waist reassuringly. He then guided Steve to sit on the bed, sitting close enough that their thighs pressed together. Eddie picked up his discarded guitar pick and flipped it between his fingers, the tension finally settling into a warm, comfortable buzz.