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If someone told Steve a few years ago that he would regularly lift Eddie Munson into his arms, he would have advised the poor soul to take a long vacation at Pennhurst.
But here he is, holding Eddie against the humming fridge in his dark kitchen, fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs, with not a single inch of space between their bodies, Eddie's wide, dark eyes fixed on his.
"Two is a coincidence..." Eddie mutters, licking his lips, letting the rest of the sentence dwindle out as Steve's eyes fall shut.
It all starts here:
A hot summer day, them sitting on the lounge chairs next to the pool in nothing but swimming trunks, nursing two cold Coke bottles, when Steve notices something off with Eddie.
"What happened to you, man?" He points his bottle at Eddie's ribs, the large purple bruise on his pale skin enough to have him wince in sympathy. Eddie looks down at himself, then flushes, a pretty pink spreading across his sternum, climbing along his throat and into his cheeks.
"Oh, this?" he asks, sheepishly. "Just a little accident."
"What kind of accident?"
"Just, you know..." Eddie shrugs, turns his head away from Steve, hiding the heat in his face.
Steve frowns at him, unsatisfied with the non-answer. Then, it dawns on him.
"You mean that happened during...?"
Eddie blushes even harder if that's possible. Steve's never seen him like this. He's normally so shameless, flaunting his opinions loud and proud.
"Yeah, Steve, it happened during dot dot dot. Satisfied?"
Steve is, and he isn't. Because how would you even get bruised like that during sex? Unless...
"Did somebody do that to you? Like on purpose?" Does Steve have to drive all the way up to Indy to beat up one of Eddie's hookups?
"No, nothing like that." Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his face. "I fell."
"You fell?" Steve looks down at his Coke bottle. "You fell from what?"
Eddie thumbs his head back against the chair, eyes rising towards the sky like he's praying for patience. "From the hot guy's arms I was in, okay?"
Steve chokes on the sip of Coke, he was just about to swallow. "You mean you had sex while standing up?"
"Not exactly sex," Eddie says and shakes his head. "Just making out, I guess."
"Somebody made out with you while lifting you up?" The words feel weird in Steve's mouth, tacky, as if they should have stayed glued to his palate.
"Seems impossible, right? Should've known it could only end in disaster," Eddie laughs. "It was hot in the moment, though. Before he let me fall, and I hit the dresser next to us. Being worried that I might've fractured a rib was kinda a mood killer. Don't think we'll see each other again."
"It's not impossible," Steve remarks, before he can think better of it. "I made out lifting the other person up before. Multiple times."
If possible, the heat in Eddie's cheeks burns even brighter now. Is he getting sunburned? Steve should probably get out the aloe for him later.
"With girls. It's not the same."
"I could easily lift your bony ass, Munson."
Eddie stares at him with raised brows, then scoffs. "Sure, Harrington."
Steve feels his fingers itch with the desire to prove himself, but before he can act on the impulse, Eddie's up and jumps into the pool, splashing water all over Steve's shins.
Steve's determined not to let it drop.
The first time he gets the opportunity is a few nights later when they hang out at the Munson trailer. They climb on top of the roof to split a joint between them, smoking and talking about nothing and everything, about their days, about their friends, about their random shower thoughts.
He likes that about Eddie, how easy things are with him. Eddie's one of those friends who can go on long tirades about the constraints of society, but he never judges Steve, even when they disagree. It's new for Steve, too, to hang out with someone who doesn't think his thoughts and ideas are stupid, even when he tries to estimate how many slices of pizza he's eaten in his lifetime.
So, when he finally jumps off the trailer's roof, a little higher and a little more giggly than before, and Eddie looks down from where he's sitting, worrying his lower lip, Steve doesn't hesitate to open his arms for him.
"Was this always this high?" Eddie asks, and Steve can't help but laugh.
"C'mon, Munson, I've got you."
Eddie doesn't look entirely convinced, so Steve adds, "I would never let you fall, promise."
Next thing he knows, Eddie pushes off the edge of the trailer. Steve catches him around the middle, Eddie's hands landing on his shoulder, fingers digging deep into his flesh.
Steve looks up at him with a happy chuckle, says, "See?" and Eddie's eyes get all wide and startled. He looks kinda pretty, Steve thinks while he keeps Eddie lifted off the ground for a moment longer, what with that star-sprinkled sky behind him.
Then he slowly lowers Eddie down on his feet, showing off his muscles and proving he can indeed lift Eddie without making him fall, even if only for a moment.
They don't talk about it afterwards. Just head inside, cook mac and cheese from the box.
The second time it happens, Eddie's drunk on Steve's couch. They made cocktails with the contents of his parents' liquor cabinet and exotic juices Robin brought from the store while watching Rocky Horror. Steve's not a big fan of sticky-sweet alcohol, so he's mostly stayed faithful to his beer and is thus the only one relatively sober among the three of them.
Robin's already headed up to crash in the guestroom, but Eddie's apparently content with falling asleep right here, in his uncomfortable clothes, without washing up.
"C'mon, Ed, get up," Steve groans, trying to pull him into a standing position by his arm.
"Just leave me here," he grumbles, "don't wanna move."
"Ah, ah," Steve chastises him. "We don't skip the bedtime routine in the Harrington household. You had a lot of sugar, so you have to brush your teeth. Either get your ass up yourself, or I'll carry you to the bathroom."
"Yeah," Eddie laughs, slumps down even further. "As if."
Steve leans down before he can rethink his decision, guiding Eddie's arms around his neck, then sliding one hand below his thigh, and the other around his middle, holding on fast. He lifts him up and into his arms with a grunt, jostling him up and resettling his grip by holding onto both of his thighs.
Eddie's not exactly heavy, but his drunken wobbliness makes it a bit of a challenge to carry him up the stairs to the second floor, still.
"What the fuck, Harrington?" he mumbles into Steve's shoulder, arms curled tight around Steve's neck. Steve turns his head, inhales Eddie's musk- tobacco, and something a little more spicy- tries to ignore the demanding beat of his own heart.
He kicks open the door to his bathroom, sets Eddie on top of the marble countertop, then searches for the spare toothbrush under the sink. He wets it under the tap, then squeezes a bit of toothpaste onto it and hands it to Eddie, who looks at it as if Steve just handed him a weird insect.
Steve ignores his skeptical look in favor of brushing his own teeth, then hands Eddie a cup of water to rinse his mouth. There's no logical reason for Steve to lift Eddie in his arms again afterward, besides wanting to do so.
Eddie curls around him like a koala, not even questioning Steve's motives anymore, holds on like he never wants Steve to let him go. Steve's stomach flips when one of Eddie's hands buries inside his hair at the nape of his neck, one of his rings snatching on a strand, the sharp pain enough for Steve to have to suppress a moan.
He puts Eddie on his bed before he does something he will regret later, tosses some clean sweatpants at him, then goes downstairs to clean up the total mess Robin and Eddie left in his kitchen. When he comes back, Eddie is already asleep, face pressed into Steve's pillow, like he's trying to soak up every bit of Steve's scent.
It gets a little more complicated for Steve after that. The kicking of his heart, the nervous flutter in his gut, are still there, and they're getting harder to ignore. There's not much chance to lift Eddie up, and Steve's feeling a little desperate to hold Eddie in his arms, to feel his breath against his neck, those strong fingers digging into his skin, holding onto his hair.
Opportunity finally arises a few weeks later, when they're in Steve's backyard again, playing Badminton (the only sport Steve could convince Eddie to give a chance).
Suddenly, Eddie yelps, crunching down, tugging his bare foot around to inspect the sole of it.
"Shit, fucking ouch," he hisses when Steve hurries over, "I think I stepped on a bee."
Steve doesn't hesitate to pick Eddie up, just this time, he puts an arm beneath his knees and the other around his shoulders.
"Did I hit my head, too?" Eddie wonders, but is still holding onto Steve's neck as he always does. "I think I'm getting carried princess style by one Steve Harrington."
Eddie swoons and puts the back of his hand against his forehead. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes in answer, doesn't know what to say to make it less weird. He carries Eddie into the kitchen, sets him on the kitchen counter, then gets an onion and slices it into half before pressing it to the swollen spot on Eddie's foot.
"Do you think the bee is okay?" Eddie asks, and Steve thinks he's a little bit in love with him.
The fourth time it happens, it's on Eddie. He comes storming into Steve's house, calling for him, calling, "Steve, Steve, I've got the job at the garage!"
Steve steps out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel, when Eddie flings himself at him, arms curled tight around his neck. Steve's got no choice but to drop the dish towel, curling his arms around Eddie's waist and whirling him around until they're both dizzy with laughter.
So.
Two is a coincidence.
Three is a pattern.
Five. Well. Five might be a bit of a problem.
That final time in his kitchen at night, happens like this:
The other side of Steve's bed is empty, even though Eddie stayed over. They haven't felt awkward about sharing a bed in a long time, which Steve realizes might seem a little strange in itself, but since they're both members of the regular nightmares club…
Steve heads down, finds Eddie in the kitchen refilling a glass with water from the tap.
"Did I wake you?" he asks, and turns to Steve, leaning against the counter. He looks so good like this, with Steve's shorts a little too big on him and slung low on his hips, hair all tousled from sleep, slim fingers ringless for once. Pretty eyes, pretty lips, even the exact cut of his chin is pretty.
Steve didn't plan for it to happen like this, didn't plan for anything to happen at all, really, but he tugs Eddie's glass out of his hand, places it on the counter, then bends his knees to lift him into his arms, slowly, fabric sliding against fabric.
Eddie's thighs come around Steve's waist like they've rehearsed this, like they've done this a million times before, will a million times more. Steve takes a few steps to the side, trying to find a surface he can secure Eddie against, finds the tall fridge to be perfect for that.
Eddie gasps when his back comes into contact with the cold metal, and he tightens his arms and legs around Steve. For a short moment, they only look at each other, breathing hard against each other.
"Two is a coincidence..." Eddie mutters, licking his lips. Steve lets his eyes fall shut, leans in until his nose slides against Eddie's. His heart is stuck in his throat at this point, his fingers tingling where they're digging into the naked skin of Eddie's thighs. He slides them a bit higher, high enough that they slip under the hem of his shorts.
"Five?" Steve breathes. "What is five?"
"Five is a confession," Eddie whispers back. Steve can't help but press his smile against the edge of Eddie's jaw. God, he likes him so much.
"Do you have any idea what this does to me?" Eddie groans, fingers curling in Steve's hair and tugging on it until Steve moans against his skin. "Lifting me in your freakishly strong arms like it's nothing? Promising me not to let me fall? Jesus freaking Christ, I thought I was going to spontaneously combust every time."
"Yeah?" He hums, pulls away enough to look at Eddie in the spare light of his dark kitchen. Steve's still grinning, his cheeks aching from it.
"Are you always this competitive, Harrington?"
"I like to be the best at whatever I do. Sue me," Steve shrugs, jostling Eddie in his arms in the process.
"Well, we haven't made out yet, so the jury is still out on whether you can do it without dropping me on my ass."
Steve's mouth lands on Eddie's true and right. Kissing the sass right out of him, kissing him pliant and soft, until Eddie's shivering and sighing in his arms.
True to his word, he doesn't let Eddie fall. Not even twenty minutes later, when their kisses have turned hard and heavy, when his hold on Eddie has gotten so tight, he's leaving his own kind of bruises on him.