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dapandapod · 1 day

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Figure it out

This is a birthday gift for my beloved @firefly-party I had her working for it though, sorry about that love 😂 I wanted to surprise you with some Steddie, and it was done for your day, even if it wasn't ready for posting! And uh, did not mean for Steve to have a smol break down, but the man deserved a good cry and a hug (and the rest is spoilers). Hope you all enjoy it, and Kei most of all! Go check out her amazing art!! Warnings: internalized homophobia (just a little), smol breakdown (as a treat) and then first time blowjob and handjobs 😂 my smut caught feelings... again... On Ao3 here

College was an unexpected turn of events for the both of them.

A lot of scars and hush hush money later, Eddie and Steve both left their small hometown and all the bad memories behind.

It is not like they meant to stick together, but neither of them were ever much into studying, and the school they found just happened to have programs for the both of them.

One for setting Steve on the path of physiotherapy and one for Eddie with opportunities for further studies to become a studio technician.

Steve always thought he would end up living with Robin if it came to it, but it’s Eddie that helps him pick out a ratty couch on a yard sale, Eddie who argues about who should get the bigger bedroom, Eddie who doesn’t care to mark up what frozen food is his.

Eddie brings home new people all the time, social butterfly as he is, it takes no time at all for him to find a new band, a new group of people to play that tabletop thing with the dice.

He is the light of the room, and in the beginning, it really, really rubbed Steve the wrong way. It’s bad enough to have Dustin asking to pass the phone, it is somehow worse when it is Robin.

‘Bullshit’, he thinks, and then he feels bad about it for the rest of the evening.

Classmates, sure, but a bit distant. At the end of the day it’s fine, because once he stopped arguing with Eddie and started to find common ground, it’s fun.

They hang out sometimes, occasionally getting high while watching shitty movies or listening to music that only appeals to one of them at the time. Sometimes he even hangs out with Eddie’s friends, though they remain Eddie’s friends, not his.

Which is fine.

There is a hiccup there, though. Some of the guys Eddie are friends with are annoyingly good looking, and Steve finds himself looking at them.

The worst part is that some of them look back, and some whisper something to Eddie, who doesn’t even look at him, but shakes his head.

A lot of them stay the night, and there is a strange squeeze when he sees them with Eddie, both of them ignoring him completely.

It feels like he is missing something important, but he can’t put his finger on it. There is a guilt in being caught watching, and there is a disappointment where Eddie shakes his head, and Steve doesn’t understand.

Every Tuesday is Robin Time, though, and they talk on the phone for most of the eve.

It is with one of the conversations with her that Steve starts to put the pieces together.

She too is studying, she found a school on the other side of the friggin country, and she met someone.

When she describes the fear and the thrill of being known, of being noticed for what she is, of being found out, and reaching for more.

There is something there, something that Steve is stumbling over with a sudden clarity.

It’s not King Steve chugging that beer, sinking that shot. It’s not King Steve who kisses a girl he doesn’t know the name of, not King Steve who is pushing the realization as far away from himself as he can.

Maybe it is. Maybe it always was.

The hangover is fucking intense, and he throws up twice after waking up, not even a shower makes him feel better.

His head throbs, his heart feels like it is being squeezed and tugged down in his belly, his stomach is lurching.

The perfect fucking time for Eddie to walk in on him on their ratty couch in just a tshirt and his underwear, curled up and miserable.

If Eddie had someone with him, they were sent away, because next he knows, the curtains are blinding out the sun, there is a glass of water set on the living room table, and a cold hand against his arm.

“You good, man?” Eddie asks quietly.

It shouldn’t break him, but it does. Steve doesn’t cry in front of people, he doesn’t cry at all, does he?

The first sob is pathetic, but he can’t help it. His breath is coming short, and everything is crumbling around him, and he feels like he is falling.

When his ass hits the floor, he realizes Eddie is kneeling in front of him, pulling him sideways and more or less into his lap and holding him close.

Steve clings to his shirt, pressing his forehead to his chest, tears trickling down his nose, and he is barely aware of Eddie shushing him, patting his back.

“It’s alright, Stevie. You are alright, baby. You’re good.”

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Steve to calm down, the first deep breath is a relief, and his eyes are heavy and swollen from crying.

“I’m sorry,” Steve croaks, finally noticing how uncomfortable it must be for Eddie to hold him like this. He can’t make himself move just yet, though.

“Nah, it’s fine. You should have seen how Wayne had to hold me those first weeks after Vecna. This is nothing.”

Yeah, Steve wasn’t fine after that either, but all his parents did was to make Steve push it down, out of sight, out of mind. Not the first time, that.

When they finally untangle, Steve is sent to the bathroom to splash himself with some cold water. He does look rather terrible, a little blotchy and eyes swollen, but he feels a little better.

He finds a pair of sweatpants and a black sweater that probably isn’t his, but still puts them on anyway.

When Steve comes out, Eddie is putting together the greasiest meal Steve has ever seen, he didn’t even realize his roommate can cook.

“You wanna talk about it?” Eddie asks, but Steve just wraps his arms around himself and flops down on the couch.

“Robin has a girlfriend now,” he says, and then freezes when Eddie turns around to look at him stiffly.

“Yeah?”

“Ah shit, sorry, shouldn’t have told you that. Forget you heard that.”

“Depends,” Eddie says, still looking at Steve while stirring the popping bacon. “Is that why…” Eddie gestures with broad, awkward motions at Steve. “All that happened? Because you are jealous?”

“Huh? What? No, ew, she is like a sister to me.” Now, anyway. No need to admit how he thought he felt something there when they first met. “It was something she said about it...”

“Elaborate,” Eddie says evenly, transferring bacon to the rest of the unholy collection on the plate and bringing it to the living room table. He doesn’t sit next to Steve though, keeping his distance.

Steve hesitates. He has no idea if Eddie is safe, so to speak, how he would take what Steve has been thinking about, just starting to acknowledge.

“If you are worried about me knowing about Robin, you are literally talking to the most bent fucker this side of Illinois. Eddie the freak Munson, remember?”

Steve blinks.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, you didn’t realize?”

“Decided not to believe everything I heard,” Steve mumbles, feeling very stupid and something… else. He is in no state to think about anything but bacon right now. There are a few moments of silence where both just process, and Steve poking his bacon.

“How did you…know?” he asks quietly, not ready to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“Shit, really?” Eddie hiss-whispers, whatever to call it, and Steve glances up. “You wanna talk about that?” Eddie says a bit louder, dragging a hand over his face.

“Don’t have to. Robin just seemed to know, you know, and uh.” Steve shrugs, stabbing the greasy food, his teeth clacking against the fork as he stuffs his mouth. Can’t talk if he’s eating, right?

Eddie just sighs, and Steve feels himself close off again. They’re not friends. They are just living together, because moving in with a new person would mean being unable to explain the nightmares or sleepless nights and scars.

There is no reason for them to talk about something that personal.

Somehow, all the people Steve thought were important to him don't feel the same, do they? The food does as intended though, settling heavily in his stomach, and surprisingly enough he can keep it down.

“Thank you for the food-,” Steve says, standing to retreat to his bedroom.

“-I had help,” Eddie says at the same time, and they look at each other, a bit surprised.

“Someone helped me figure it out,” Eddie says, and Steve is unsure if he should sit down again or not. The way Eddie is looking at him is a bit hesitant, probably matching what Steve must look like.

Gone are the layers of dramatics and humor, peeled away to bare something vulnerable. At least he is not wearing that same hunted look from the past, the look of Eddie the Banished, as he named himself then.

“Why are you asking, Stevie?” Eddie asks gently, long fingers fiddling with his curls, pulling them forward.

“Turns out, without Hawkins, without Vecna and without the kids… I might know who I am anymore.” Steve says to his plate, because Eddie’s doe eyes just make something in his chest churn, and it is really damn hard to identify what it is.

Something reckless and hopeful makes him look up though, deciding that it’s worth the risk.

“Could use a friend figuring that out.”

Eddie looks at him for a long moment, and Steve waits for something, anything. When nothing happens, Steve mentally kicks himself for asking at all.

“Thanks for the bacon, man,” Steve says, and retreats back to his room. There is only so much his heart can take.

Steve’s door shuts behind him and Eddie sits with his hands in his lap, questioning everything he thought he knew.

Seeing Steve like that was fucking unnerving, it’s his job to freak out. Steve is untouchable, nothing breaks him. Well, maybe perhaps Nancy, there is something about her that seems to crack him open. She is his catalyst, if you will.

Everything is different now. A new setting, a new board, an unwritten campaign for the characters.

All this time, Eddie has been sure of who he is. What he is, and what he wants. He wants his music, he wants his own little army of DnD freaks, and he wants to pry that crack open that Steve showed him today. Giving the finger, grabbing the entire arm and all that jazz.

Eddie did have help, yes. Maybe he can offer the same in return.

The thought of Stevie watching him, considering him, Eddie wants to run, and he wants to grab that chance with both hands.

It is still early afternoon, but Steve decides he needs a nap. His head feels better, but pretty much nothing else. Sleep eludes him, however, and he lies on his bed, listening to Eddie play on his guitar in the other room. Not very loudly, but the building has paper thin walls.

It’s good to know he is not alone. It’s a good feeling, and one he is still getting used to.

Eventually he falls asleep, and when he wakes up it is roughly dinner time. Naps always makes him feel sluggish, and this is no exception.

But this time, he dares considering his dreams.

A hand splaying over his chest, keeping him pinned down to the mattress.

Curls brushing his neck, cold rings against the side of his stomach.

Steve knows it was not only the guests that he was watching. It was Eddie.

Eddie with his band shirts, his contradictory behavior, his self-deprecating jokes, his obsession with music, all of it.

Eddie sees people.

Steve wants to be seen.

Maybe that is why Steve does it. It’s rash, and it’s stupid, and it could ruin everything. But Eddie is the most bent fucker this side of Illinois, and Steve needs to know.

He shuffles out of his room, across the living room, he doesn’t even knock, just pushes Eddie’s door open.

Eddie himself sits on his bed, feet dangling over the edge, a visibly well read book leaning over his stomach. He watches Steve through his bangs, and there is something in his eyes, like he is waiting.

“What’s up, Stevie?” Eddie asks, and Steve grips the handle a little tighter.

“Just tell me yes or no. Could you help me figure it out?”

“Figure what out?” Eddie drawls, and it pisses him off, makes his stomach flip. Eddie wants him to spell it out. Fuck it.

“Help me figure out if I’m bent, too,” Steve says, and Eddie grins widely.

“There he is,” he says, putting his book down as he straightens up and watching Steve intently. “Alright, let’s play. How can I help?”

“I don’t know. How did your friend help?” Steve asks, unable to look away. His mouth feels dry, and it doesn’t get better when Eddie stands up and steps in close.

“You sure you want that kind of help, Stevie?” he practically purrs, and the question hangs between them, grows and intensifies.

“Yes,” Steve says, watching Eddie’s gaze travel over his face, lingering on his lips.

“Do you know what you are asking for, big boy? I’m not a nice guy.”

Shit.

“You are,” Steve says, gravitating forward before he can stop himself, and Eddie stops him with a hand on his chest. Steve’s fingers are clenching so hard around the door knob his fingers are almost cramping.

“Fine,” Eddie says, then fisting his hand in Steve’s sweater and closing the distance between them.

Lips are still lips. The intake of breath as they press together is familiar, but the thumb pressing into his cheek, the narrow hips between his hands where he suddenly found purchase, that’s all new. Addicting.

One kiss turns into two, and Steve finds himself crowded against the door frame, Eddie making a pleased sound as Steve kisses him back.

“How’s that?” Eddie asks, mouths a hair's breadth apart. Steve can taste his pulse in the back of his throat, his breath coming fast.

“No idea,” Steve admits, and Eddie huffs amusedly when he continues. “Try again?”

Steve doesn’t get another kiss, but for one moment, their bodies are flush together, and Eddie leans in to nibble on his ear.

“Think about it, Stevie,” Eddie whispers, then pushes Steve out of his room and closes the door.

Shellshocked, Steve just stands there for a moment, his lips tingling and his mind racing. He didn’t hate that. Not at all.

Which is exhilarating and terrifying, and Steve is so fucked.

Next morning’s breakfast is a tense affair.

Not that it is awkward, but there is a tension between them now, the way Eddie gives him considering looks without at all touching, and the way Steve just wants to feel his hands splayed across his chest again.

Nothing happens, though, and Steve is restless for the rest of the day, and he is caught between wanting more and wondering what the hell he is doing.

It is hard to focus on the classes, and the girls a few rows down keep sending him glances. One of them looks vaguely familiar, and the curly brunette smiles at him.

She is cute in her blue eyeliner, and Steve has vague memories of the taste of lipstick.

It sobers him up a bit, self doubt creeping back in, and yeah, classes he should probably pay attention to is blurred into the background.

When Steve gets home, Eddie is already there, which is unusual. The crackling under his skin is cranked up to max when their eyes meet across the room, and Steve toes off his shoes without breaking their gaze.

“Did you think about it?” Eddie says, tilting his head up challengingly, because of course he does.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, and walks closer to where Eddie stands, leaning against the kitchen counter. He doesn’t stop until their socked toes almost touch, until he can watch the flecks in Eddie’s eyes up close. “Couldn’t concentrate on class.”

“Yeah? What was on your mind, sweet heart?” Eddie taunts, tilting his head, breaking the stare to watch Steve’s lips part and his cheeks flush.

“Jesus christ,” Steve breathes, in turn watching the glint of tongue wetting Eddie’s lips. They are so close he can smell the sweat from being in a studio all day, the hairspray, feel the heat of his breath.

“Just kiss me, Eds.”

Instead, Steve is being backed up, that tantalizing hand pressed against his chest guiding him backwards until his back hits the fridge, and Eddie presses him right up against it.

The metal is cool against the back of his arm, but Eddie’s body is a hot line against his, curls tickling his neck as they crash together.

There is barely any room to move, Eddie’s hands gripping Steve’s face, holding him in place as he is being completely devoured.

Eddie the Freak, indeed.

Steve has no idea what to do with his hands, worried to break the spell that has Eddie looking at him through long lashes, sucking on his lips, a hint of teeth promising more, more, more.

“Figured it out yet?” Eddie murmurs against his lips when they finally pull apart, his voice a low rasp sending a shiver down Steve’s spine.

“Almost,” Steve murmurs back, barely recognizing his own voice either. The way Eddie kisses him unarms him, makes him stupid. “There’s something else I have been thinking of trying.”

Parted lips brush together, as if passing the electricity between them with a breath alone.

“Do it,” Eddie says, letting Steve slip through his fingers as Steve suddenly sinks to his knees. It’s not a good position, trapped as he is between Eddie’s hips and the fridge, but yeah, there is no holding him back now.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie says, eyes wide and hands suddenly fumbling to help Steve open his belt and fly, pulling him free.

There is nothing stopping Steve now from pressing his lips to Eddie’s bare hip, hands running up his legs as his pants are pushed down around his knees, breathing in the musk of him. It’s odd, to say the least, to have a dick in his face, and a half hard one at that.

It’s not an unfamiliar sight, there is little left to the imagination when you are part of the swim team, but he has never let himself look like this, to want.

He doesn’t look up, just brushes his knuckles up and down, fingers tracing where the buttock meets the back of Eddie’s thigh.

“You don’t need to push yourself, Steve. You got nothing to prove.”

Steve looks up, realizing Eddie is holding up his shirt, revealing more of his stomach that is frankly unfair. A smattering of hair and scars and lines of tattoos follow and disrupt the lines of his body, the outline of his ribs, and Steve suddenly makes a new discovery, something he didn’t see before.

“Take off your shirt,” Steve asks, hands digging into Eddie’s thighs. For a moment, something self conscious flashes over the musician’s face, but as Steve just holds eye contact, it seems Eddie finds some kind of reassurance there.

The shirt is disposed of, and Steve can now clearly see the piercings, rings pushed through his nipples, glinting in the kitchen light.

His mouth gets completely dry, zeroing in on the sight of them, and he almost forgets why he kneeled in the first place. Eddie reminds him though, with a finger under his chin and his thumb to his bottom lip.

“How are you always so fucking brave, Harrington?” He murmurs, pushing in when Steve’s lips parts, petting his tongue.

Shit.

Steve sucks the digit into his mouth, keeping his eyes on Eddie as his right hand finally dares to slide around, teasing around the base of Eddie’s growing erection.

The only thing he has to go on is his own likes, and the angle is weird, so it takes a few tries for Steve to get a rhythm going. Eddie is blood hot under his hand, his fingers gripping his chin just a little tighter when he gets it right.

He feels his hands get sweaty, a flutter of nerves running through him as Eddie’s thumb slips from his mouth, releasing him all together in favor of leaning more against the fridge.

When Eddie is fully hard, Steve slows, just holding him, considering if he should do it or not.

“Nothing to prove,” Eddie reminds him, doing nothing but waiting for him.

‘Not a good guy, my ass’ Steve thinks as he leans in, opening his mouth.

He has gotten enough blowjobs himself from inexperienced lovers to know to watch his teeth. It is harder than he expects, and the taste, the struggle to breathe takes him by surprise. Eddie shifts, the angle changing, and Steve almost gags.

“Easy, sweet heart, Jesus Christ,” Eddie sounds wrecked, eyes locked on Steve as he blinks, attempting to hide how watery his eyes got. “You never start slow, do you?”

The pet names, the softness around his eyes, Steve wants to hide, and the easiest way is to simply dive in again. Or well, guiding Eddie back between his lips to rub against his tongue, against the roof of his mouth.

His jaw aches already, but he finds a balance with one hand wrapped around the base of him, his lips brushing his own hand on the downstroke, the other still gripping Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie is surprisingly quiet, except for the odd grunt. But when Steve removes his hand, getting braver, Eddie’s hand finds the back of Steve’s head, fingers dragging through his head.

“Jesus,” Eddie grunts, fingers flexing, and Steve can just agree.

It feels long, but it actually doesn’t take that long for Eddie to groan out a warning.

Steve pulls off, Eddie’s hand replacing his mouth, working himself over furiously.

Hot spend hits his chin, and he blinks in surprise. It’s not exactly pleasant, but not unpleasant either, his gut burning with satisfaction having been the reason behind Eddie’s pleasure.

He just about has time to swipe away the worst of it before the musician kneels too, kissing him hard enough that the back of his head knocks into the fridge.

It hurts, but not nearly enough to break the kiss, not when Steve is licking over his lips, his palm searching downward until it can press over the answering bulge in Steve’s pants.

He is already so worked up he barely realized just how much he needed that until Eddie is touching him, gasping into the kiss.

Eddie opens his pants and dives in, no hesitation, and the heat of his hand sends a jolt through him, and he involuntarily bites down on Eddie’s lip.

“Sorry,” he gasps but Eddie just laughs.

“Kinky, Harringtong,” tilting his head to suck at Steve’s neck, and well, this is going to be over embarrassingly quickly.

Steve’s hand travels across Eddie’s bare chest, feeling the raised skin of the scars under his fingers, enjoying the brush of coarse chest hairs more than he expects, gathered between the pecs of his chest.

He doesn’t dare touch the piercings, especially not as Eddie’s hand tighten around his erection, doing something completely sinful and tightening his grip in a way most girls doesn’t dare in fear of hurting him and -

His back arches as it hits him, pleasure making his skin tingle all the way down into his toes as he spills over Eddie’s fist, panting into his mouth.

For a good long moment they just sit there, catching their breaths and listening to the hum of the fridge. Eddie can’t seem to let go of him, his nose still pressed into Steve’s hair, his hand still gently holding on to Steve’s softening erection.

“You look silly with your dick hanging out like that,” Steve informs Eddie, his orgasm brain removing at least three of his filters.

Luckily Eddie just snorts, pointedly squeezing around Steve.

“And you don’t?”

Steve doesn’t have an answer to that, and when Eddie leans back enough for their eyes to meet, all he can do is stare. He looks good, so damn good, and uh, yeah. Steve probably got his answer if he’s bent or not.

There is no need to kiss now, not really. Still, Eddie leans down and Steve angles up to meet him in a kiss much sweeter than it has any right to be.

“Are you done figuring it out, sweet heart? Because I want you, and I need us to be on the same page when I take you,” Eddie rasps, and well, damnit.

It’s a terrifying thought. A big step. Steve swallows, nerves holding his tongue hostage, but Eddie soothes him with a caress on his cheek.

“It doesn’t have to be today, hell, not even tomorrow. But I don’t want you to plead insanity and run for the fucking hills because all you wanted was an experiment.”

Eddie tucks Steve back in, every touch gentle and deliberate, then he stands and pulls up his own pants.

“Think about it,” Eddie says, then strolls into the bathroom.

Yeah, Steve’s got a lot to think about. And he has a feeling he won’t stop thinking about it for a long, long time.