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mashawisotsky · 4 months

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Thank you. It's very sweet.

Get a Sentimental Feeling

For @mashawisotsky , hope you enjoy 🫶

@steddieholidayexchange

Rating: Mature for language and sexual innuendo

No archive warnings apply

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Original Character(s)

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington’s Grandmother, Steve Harrington’s Grandfather

Additional tags: Christmas Party, Christmas Music, Christmas Fluff, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington-centric, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Light Angst, No beta we die like Eddie definitely didn’t

Words: 8,288

Summary: December, the time for winter, joy, Hanukkah, Christmas, and the Harrington Co. Annual Office Christmas Party. However, this year, the invitation from Steve’s grandparents has a special request to bring his “lover”.

A story about Steve, his grandparents, Christmas, and coming out.

Fic under the cut!!

1971

Distant singing rang from the kitchen, a gentle timbre, a kind vibrato that followed along to Brenda Lee’s “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”. A voice that may just have been a tad too sweet and soft for such an upbeat and high-energy song. The voice traveled through the open door of the kitchen, spiraled its way around the support beams in the hallway, and impaled itself right into the heart of a seven-year-old Steven Harrington.

As he heard the kind voice, he stood up from his action figures on the ground, parting ways with his grandfather. His feet carried him toward the source of the singing, and he found himself in the doorway to the kitchen, his nose turning on fairly quickly. A deep inhale through the nose brought a strong whiff of anise and quieter notes of vanilla and gingerbread.

His eyes landed on Grandma, whisking away at some liquid mixture in a glass bowl that rested on the counter. The words to the song playing on the record player tumbled out of her lips, stringing perfectly together, bringing joy and love to Steven’s ears. The days around Christmas were the times he spent mostly at his grandparents’ home. They were able to take time away from the company, where his parents were not, despite it being their family company, because someone had to manage while the others were away. So while his mother and father had to work, Steven was with Grandma and Grandpa.

Grandma was making her famous anise cookies, and sometimes, only sometimes, she would let Steven help her, and would allow him to shape the dough into snowmen, or hearts, or stars. Steven lingered by the doorway as she sang her heart out, Brenda Lee’s voice just ringing along in the background, but Grandma’s vibrato and clean voice pierced the foreground, forcing itself to be the only focal point. He smiled, a warm and fuzzy feeling overwhelming his little body, a giggle overtaking him and forcing its way out, cutting through his grandmother’s calm singing.

She paused her whisking to place a hand on her hip. “Well, well, well… looks like we have a spy.”

Her nails on the hand not resting on her hip tapped on the granite countertop. Feigning anger, she frowned at the boy, a grunt passing through her pressed-together lips. Yet, Steven knew she wasn’t actually mad at him, no way. He totally saw the brightness of her eyes, the way they scrunched, and the slight upturn in the corner of her mouth despite the frown, the subtle smirk. He knew she was playing with him, but he liked to play along.

“I followed my nose, Grandma! I’m no spy.” For emphasis, the little boy tapped at his button nose, sniffing the air and gesturing to the glass bowl on the counter. “Can I help?”

Grandma seemed to be considering his question, thinking really hard about his question. She tapped at her chin while she stared at the ceiling and pretended to think. “Well, I guess I can make room for one more.” She said, directing her gaze back to the small boy with a smile. “Go get your stool and mosey on over here, Jellybean.”

Those were the magic words of invitation, and all that Steven needed to hear before he ran to the cupboard and grabbed his wooden step stool. He placed it beside Grandma, climbed on top of it and tilted his head up at her, looking at the amazing woman with the soft singing voice with adoration in his eyes. His grandmother created the universe and hung the moon. She painted the skies and let him splatter the stars. Grandma created his family, it all began with her, and Steven never wanted to be anywhere more than by her side.

She instructed him to fold the dry ingredients into the whisked wet ones, and she stepped away from the counter to restart the record. Music started to flow through the speakers, and Grandma began singing once more. Steven joined in this time, his little voice not quite in the same key, not quite able to carry the same tune as Grandma. She didn’t seem to mind though, if her smile said anything. She patted his head, pressing a gentle kiss to his crown before placing her hand atop his to adjust the way he was folding in the dry ingredients.

“You will get a sentimental feeling, when you’re here,” Grandma sang, dancing around the kitchen, swinging some hand towels as her skirt swished in time with each movement. “Voices singing ‘let’s be jolly’,”

“Deck! The halls with boughs of holly!” Steven continued through fits of giggles, watching his Grandma dance and hop around.

She smiled, pointing a spoon at him, before joining him at his side again. She poked the spoon into his side, erupting another booming laugh from the child. “Good job, Jellybean!” Praises fell from Grandma’s mouth once she saw how he finished folding in the dry ingredients. “Now we have to knead the dough.”

“Why do we gotta do that?” He asked.

“Have to do that,” Grandma corrected his grammar, before dusting flour onto the counter. “It’s part of the recipe, my love.” She wasn’t necessarily sure what kneading it actually did, and didn’t want to give Steven a fake answer. He knew she was just following an age old recipe, and knew she didn’t know, but he played along.

“Okay. My hands hurt.” He frowned, holding his hands palm-up towards his grandmother, frowning. “Folding.”

Grandma pouted at him and grabbed his wrists gently to inspect his hands. “Oh this won’t do. Folding hurt my Jellybean’s hands! Oh this isn’t good at all.” She huffs, before pressing big, loud, smacking kisses all over his small hands and wrists.

Steven squealed, trying to wring his hands away from Grandma’s grasp, laughing as she kissed his hands. “Gram! No more!” He giggled, squirming away.

“Okay, okay… do they feel better?” She relented, letting go.

“Much.” He smiled his toothiest smile up at Grandma, hopping off the stool. “Dance?”

She placed a hand on her chest and gasped. “Why of course I’ll dance with you. Who would pass up such a handsome young man?”

Steven couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he took his grandmother’s hands in his own, swaying and jumping around the kitchen as Brenda Lee’s voice filled his ears.

“Everyone dancing merrily in the new old-fashioned way!”

————

1988

Anxiety has her thorn-covered tentacles wrapped around his chest like some kind of fucked-up counterproductive tourniquet. She’s squeezing and squeezing him until he can’t breathe, until the invitation in his hands grows further away, blurrier until he’s seeing double. His apartment feels distant, and Steve? Steve feels weird. Not hollowed out, like he expected to feel. Just weird.

“Babe?” Eddie asks, peering his head around the wall that separates their entrance hall from their living room. “All good?”

Steve feels Eddie’s warm embrace rip Anxiety’s serpentine arms away from his body. He sinks into the hug from behind, and takes a deep breath, allowing Eddie’s scent of sandalwood, tobacco, clean linen, and just a slight touch of weed infiltrate his nose.

Once the comfort seeps into his bones, Steve sighs and responds with a nod.

“You sure? You looked spooked.” Eddie whispers, a gentleness to his tone that feels like kisses inside Steve’s chest.

Steve turns around in Eddie’s hold, burying his nose into his boyfriend’s neck. “Got an invitation from my grandparents.”

“I thought we liked your grandparents?”

“We do! We definitely do,” Steve frantically pulls back from the hug, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “It’s just… since we started dating, I mentioned I was in a relationship. They let me keep it fairly private and to myself, but look at the note.”

Eddie grunts as Steve shoves the cardstock invitation into his chest, and he scrambles to grab hold of it. “We’d love to have you, and would be twice as happy if you bring that lil’ lover of yours.” Eddie reads aloud, and pulls a face. “Yikes. First of all, I ain’t ‘lil’. Secondly, you can always have Robin be your beard? Worked in the past.”

“But, I’m not ashamed of you, Eddie. I can’t just hide you.” Steve argues, his hands migrating to his hair, now that both of them are free.

Eddie nods, placing a gentle — yet calloused and slightly rough — hand on Steve’s elbow. “I never said you were, Stevie. You just… no one’s forcing you to come out to your grandparents. I’d love to go with you if that’s what you want, but if it’s too much for you, I get it.” He looks deep into Steve’s eyes and nods once more. “I promise, I get it. I’d be an asshole if I didn’t.”

Steve groans, his head tilting back as he aggressively rubs his face with his palms. “I just fucking…” He shakes his head, balling up his fists. “I want you to be there, I just don’t want them to not love me anymore.” His voice trails off as he turns his face away from his boyfriend. He frowns, mulling over all the potential scenarios of how the party would go. His family flooding the office, people he doesn’t know will be there, but people he’s known since he was little and running around the office with a tape dispenser as a toy will be there too. He cares too much about the opinions and the acceptance of other people, that one wrong look will tear him apart inside. He needs them to still love him.

“Honey,” Eddie pouts, reaching over and cupping his cheek. “After everything you told me about your grandparents, I highly doubt they would stop loving you.”

“But that’s what people do, Eds! I just,” Steve groans, his hands shaking with how tightly he’s squeezing his fists. “I can’t lose them.” He begins to walk away, needing to take a breather and pace a little bit.

Eddie sighs and nods. “I understand, Stevie. I have a good feeling that you won’t lose them.” He slightly chases after Steve a frown prevalent on his face, not liking how upset his lover is, and how nothing he says is fixing it. “You know, if that does happen, no matter what, you have me. You always will have me, baby. You’re it for me, Stevie, we’ll always have each other. You’re so goddamn special, and if they don’t keep you? I fuckin’ will.”

A small whimper escapes past Steve’s lips, and he pauses his speed walk to turn, slightly fold himself, and thump his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too, I’m sorry people hurt you too much to make you think everyone will leave you.” Eddie pulls him into a tight embrace, rubbing his hands up and down Steve’s back. He turns his head to the side and presses gentle kisses to his boyfriend’s head, whispering gentle words of love and affection into his ear.

“I’d rather have you there. I want to show you off.” Steve mumbles into Eddie’s neck, gripping tightly at the back of his boyfriend’s hoodie, squeezing the fabric between his fingers, trying to feel something that isn’t the press of his nails into his palms. “You deserve to be shown off. Plus, I know how much you love Christmas. Depriving you of a Christmas party just isn’t fair.”

Eddie cackles and adjusts himself and Steve so that he’s cupping both of Steve’s cheeks in his palms, their faces parallel from each other. He squeezes Steve’s cheeks gently, giving him fish lips. Eddie smiles bright before pecking the plush lips of his lover several times. “You’re always thinking of me.” He sighs happily, and a little bit exaggeratedly. “So sexy.”

Steve pulls back from the tight embrace with a devious smirk across his face. “Want to go decorate the tree and then bake Christmas cookies? We can put on A Christmas Story, and make hot chocolate, too.”

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie moans fakely, “you sure know how to treat a lady. Please, Stevie.”

A bright cackle comes from Steve as he starts walking towards their living room, where a nice synthetic tree sits in the corner. Eddie made sure to hide those little sticks that smell like pine inside the plastic branches, so the entire room smells like a fresh Christmas tree nursery, like the warmth and comfort of his Grandma and Grandpa’s living room and the fresh tree they had decorated together. Eddie chases after Steve, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind.

“You can’t just say the sexiest thing in the world to me and then walk away!” Eddie whines, burying his face into Steve’s neck and taking a whiff of his skin, breathing in his natural scent, mixed with the sandalwood and fresh smell of his cologne. “That’s just like edging, baby.” He huffs, making his boyfriend laugh again.

Steve shakes his head and reaches for the tape on the coffee table, lifting it up to his shoulder to take it in Eddie’s face. “I was going to put the movie on, dumbass. Fulfilling the promise, and all that shit.”

“God, I’m so in love with you.”

“Likewise, smelly.” Steve grins, peeling himself away from Eddie to go insert the tape into the VCR. He whistles as he rewinds the tape to its beginning, pressing play once he finishes. He hops up to his feet and bites his lip in thought. “Decorate first, or make hot chocolate and cookies?”

Eddie purses his lips in thought, gnawing at his cheek. “I think the best course of action would be to make hot chocolate, and then decorate. We can have those two things and still see the movie. Our kitchen is too far for me to enjoy the movie at all, baby.”

Steve smiles, a bright thing that lights up the entirety of their shared living room, and he can’t help himself but stare at his boyfriend with adoration. He never even thought that Eddie would be more passionate about Christmas than anything else. It boggles his mind how excited the man gets with the little things. His heart is beating at twice the speed it normally goes at, and he knows that Eddie is the cause. His beautiful Eddie stuns him with a blinding grin, one that he wants to see every five seconds for the rest of his natural life. It’s like medicine, just a quick glance can heal his wounds, make every problem he has seem insignificant to him, remove any trace of illness. Eddie is a bright spot in a dark world, Steve’s big white light at the end of the pitch black tunnel, not a savior, but a healer.

“Babe?” Eddie asks, concerned due to a lack of response from Steve, who just continues to stare at his boyfriend, studying the features he sees up close and personal every day.

“Just admiring the view.” Steve hums, taking a step forward and pressing a gentle kiss to Eddie’s plush lips, backing up and taking in how those beautifully big eyes widen and shine after the small kiss. He licks his lips and steps away from his boyfriend, stalking off to go make the hot chocolate. “Wanna get started on decorating while I make the cocoa, baby?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie quips back almost immediately, causing Steve to snort.

“Everything is in those blue bins in the corner.” He gestures with a lazy hand, walking through the kitchen doors, eager to make the hot chocolate so he can go do domestic holiday shit with the love of his life. He grabs the milk from the fridge and pours two mugfuls into a small pot, turning the stove on low as he whisks in cocoa powder. He grabs a bag of chocolate chips from the cabinet and gnaws on his lip as he waits for the milk to heat up to a good temperature to mix in the chocolate chips. Eddie likes his hot chocolate extra sweet and extra chocolatey, so Steve always makes an effort to add both.

Once at an acceptable temperature, Steve dumps about a little over a half of a cup of the chocolate chips into the cocoa powder and milk, whisking until it’s smooth. When he deems it up to Eddie’s standards, he turns the stove off and takes the pot off the heat, splitting the mixture into two mugs, Eddie’s beloved Garfield mug, and Steve’s – gifted from the kids – Mom of the Year mug. He excitedly tops the drinks off with whipped cream and a candy cane, carefully carrying the two mugs into the living room on a tray.

“The nectar of the Gods!” Eddie cheers from a step ladder, hanging a small framed photograph ornament of Steve and Eddie’s first Christmas in their apartment on the tree. He climbs down from the step ladder and makes grabby hands at Steve. “Gimme.”

Steve rolls his eyes and places the tray on their coffee table before picking up Eddie’s mug. He hands it off carefully, then picks up his own with a wide smile. “Let me know if it meets your every desire.”

Eddie stirs the whipped cream into his hot chocolate with the candy cane, blowing on the mixture once the whipped cream is fully melted and combined. He takes a small sip and yelps, blowing hot air out of his mouth. “Fucking Christ.”

Steve gives Eddie the bitchiest look he can muster, shaking his head. “Babe, I just fucking made it. It’s hot as hell.”

“You’re hot as hell.” Eddie grumbles, setting the mug down on the tray. “What I could taste before I burnt off my tastebuds was good. Perfect, actually.”

Steve rolls his eyes yet again and cups his hands around the mug, despite it being Really Fucking Hot, and waltzes over to their tree. He inspects what Eddie’s put up already, smiling at their shared ornaments. Ones that they’ve made together out of clay, ones that are just photographs in their apartment, ones that are small little plastic records of their favorite songs, photos of the kids. Everything about the domesticity of the little life they’ve created is hanging up on that tree. Everything that makes Steve and Eddie, Steve and Eddie, is hanging right there in that fake tree. The moments that hang up there are the moments that make their lives good, that prove that they survived, that show how hard they persevered. Those moments are the landmarks of their lives, the showcase for what’s to come, the beautiful snapshots of what makes them happy and fucking alive. Each and every ornament they own are little snippets of what makes their worlds go round. Eddie has some of Wayne’s ornaments, some of his mother’s ornaments from when he was a baby. Steve has ornaments from Hopper and Joyce, an ornament Robin bought him from Berklee, an ornament from Dustin’s visit to the Museum of Science, and an ornament, shockingly, from Will, hand painted and dedicated to Steve. The reception of that ornament stunned Steve, he didn’t understand why Will gave it to him, but Will just smiled and said that it was because Steve made him feel more comfortable in his own skin. He never let that go, and he never will.

He places his mug down on the tray and picks up Will’s ornament from the blue bin, a bright smile on his face. Steve shows it off to Eddie, who although has already seen it the year prior when Will gave it to Steve still acts like he’s seeing it for the first time, he still acts shocked and surprised, marveling over how talented Will the Wise is and how gorgeous the ornament is. Steve can’t help but follow back with his own statements of, “I know right?”

The two lovers pick the front and centermost branch to display Will’s ornament, smiling with how it twinkles in front of the soft yellow lights that are wrapped around the tree. Steve nearly chokes up, the simple, mundane domesticity of it all is just enough to bring delicate tears to his eyes. All he’s wanted his entire life was a large family. His parents were always gone, and sure, he had his grandparents, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. He didn’t see them as often as he wanted, and he has no aunts or uncles, both his parents were only children. No first cousins, barely any second cousins either. His grandparents had siblings who had kids, but according to them, they aren’t the best of people, so they don’t really talk. It sucks, and it always hurts when he remembers he only really has his grandparents in his blood-related family. However, these ornaments remind him that no, his grandparents aren’t all he has.

He has his own family, one that his blood family just doesn’t complete. He has the kids, he has Robin – his sister, his platonic soulmate – , he has Nancy, he – shockingly – has Jonathan and Argyle, he has Joyce, he has Hopper, he has Claudia Henderson, and he has the love of his fucking life, Eddie. He has a gaggle of people that he wouldn’t trade for the world. A family, that although they piss him off a lot of the time, he loves with every fiber of his being. A family that always has his back and never leaves his goddamn side. Even with both Robin and Nancy up in Boston – Robin at Berklee for music studies, and Nancy at Emerson for journalism – , with Jonathan and Argyle at the community college in their California town of Lenora, with the kids all over the place with summer and winter break jobs, gearing up to apply to fucking college and leave them behind. Everyone stays, whether it’s mentally, or physically, they’re always there.

Steve lets a tear slip, remembering the importance of the people around him, feeling the warmth of their hugs even though they aren’t there in Eddie and Steve’s living room. Immediately after the tear drips down his cheek, Eddie is there, gently brushing it away with concerned eyes.

“Everything alright, my love?” Eddie hums, soft lips pressing sweet kisses into his wet skin. “You went all spacey for a second.”

Steve nods with a watery smile, letting a deep exhale brush past his lips. “I’m great. Just thinking about our family, how much I love this. All of it.”

Eddie has that beautiful downturned grin on his face as Steve talks, and Steve just can’t help himself from pressing a million kisses to his lips. Eddie’s laughs fill the room, overpowering the volume of the movie, and Steve wants to bottle that sound and take it with him everywhere he goes. He wants it pressed into vinyl to play as many times as he wants, whenever he wants to. It’s a sound that needs to be amplified with speakers, a sound that needs to be projected from a stage.

The two men spend the rest of their night sipping on hot chocolate and placing ornaments and tinsel on their tree, cookies forgotten and saved for another night.

————

1988 - 5 days before Christmas

Steve’s hands are shaking as he ties his tie, a shiny red silk tie with little embroidered reindeers spotted all over the material. Eddie picked it out for him last year, buying it for him as a gift, and a reminder of how much Eddie enjoyed the holiday spirit. He drops the tie, whining as it slides off his neck and onto the floor. He grunts as he bends over to pick it up, jolting at the unsuspected smack at his ass.

Eddie laughs, taking the tie from Steve’s hands. “Let me, you’re shaking so bad the apartment might crumble.”

Steve huffs a laugh, but turns to face his boyfriend, letting him gently loop the tie around his neck and tie it perfectly and swiftly. Steve sighs and rubs his face, thanking his boyfriend with a quick kiss. “I love you.” He mumbles.

“I love you too, handsome. Those goddamn suit pants are like, glued to your ass.”

“I had them tailored.”

“Of course you did,” Eddie groans, tilting his head back. “Unbelievable.”

Steve’s suit is a deep forest green, a black shirt dress underneath, with his goofy little tie that he loves so much. Eddie, however, is wearing black jeans – his nicest pair since they’re hole-free – a maroon button-down shirt with the first two buttons undone, Santa printed socks, his black leather Chelsea boots, and a Santa hat to top off the whole look. He looks absolutely fucking delicious.

“Baby, you want to talk about me? We’re going to a goddamn Christmas party at my family’s company office, and you look downright sinful. Even with the Santa hat.” Steve licks his lips, eyeing his boyfriend up and down. “Sinful.”

Eddie laughs and tilts his head to the side, pointing to the hat that’s miraculously resting on top of his – surprisingly tamed – curls. “This is revolutionary. This hat is the statement piece to end all statement pieces.”

Steve steals a sweet kiss, grabbing Eddie by the collar of his shirt and pulling him in tight. “I think the socks rival the hat.” He whispers against Eddie’s lips. “You’re the sexiest Santa there is.”

“Christ, Babe, talk dirty to me some more.”

Steve snickers and playfully shoves Eddie away, swatting at his hands as they reach to grope his ass. “Watch the goods.”

“I want to feel the goods.”

“We have to leave!”

“It doesn’t take any more than an hour to get there.” Eddie hums, raking his eyes up and down Steve’s perfectly tailored form. “We could have a little fun before we head out.”

“Eddie, Angel, I love you, but there’s no way in hell I’m wrinkling this suit. It took me, like, an hour to iron.” Steve places his hands on his hips, using his typical mom stance against his own boyfriend. “Plus, it takes an hour to get there, and that isn’t even accounting for traffic.”

A loud whine of protest escapes from Eddie, who also stomps his foot like a child. “But!”

“But nothing, you big baby.” He shoots back.

Eddie grumbles under his breath, clearly mocking Steve if the upspeak and constant pitch changes in his voice are any hints.

Steve rolls his eyes affectionately, licking his lips as his boyfriend turns, collecting his necessities so they could head to the office in Indianapolis. He watches Eddie shove his wallet into his back pocket before walking to the mirror to check that everything is in place. He adjusts the guitar pick around his neck, making sure it’s centered and that the clasp of the chain is resting on the back of his neck, like the neurotic bastard that he is. He checks his ears, making sure each and every earring is in its correct place, tweaking them if they aren't sitting the way he wants them to. He flattens the collar of his shirt, ruffled now from when Steve grabbed and kissed him, and then pulls the bottom hem of his button down from his shirt, retucking the left side of it into his jeans to make it look neat and organized.

“You’re just as nervous as I am, aren’t you?” Steve questions, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

Eddie shrugs, pursing his lips. “Not necessarily… I mean, I’m just focusing on other things.”

Steve nods, grabbing Eddie’s hands and fiddling with his rings. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being the calm I need.”

Eddie flashes Steve a beautiful sideways grin, shaking his head after Steve speaks. “Baby, I just distract you so that you can go and do your thing. Tonight will be fun, I promise.”

Steve nods, grabbing his keys, and then Eddie’s hand. He squeezes once, twice, three times before letting go and leading his boyfriend out the door. Terrified as he is, he knows that they’ll have fun… until his grandparents decide that it isn’t worth it to have their bisexual grandson around and kick them out. He’ll have these anxious thoughts milling around in his head until they don’t seem so goddamn logical, until his family proves him otherwise. He knows where his father stands on this, but he isn’t sure how the man would react. He doesn’t know just how anyone in his family will react.

Sighing, Steve unlocks the car and accepts his fate. He can’t get out of this, not after he just rushed Eddie out the door, and convinced himself that he’ll be fine as long as he’s with Eddie. It’s the two of them against the world, and Steve wouldn’t have it any other way. But, it would be nice to have his blood family in his corner… Steve doesn’t know if he’d be able to handle that rejection, the idea of losing his grandparents hurts too much to even think about.

————

1979

Loud music was playing throughout the Harrington household to drown out the silence. Laying flat on his floor, he sniffed the air. It smelled stale, nothing sweet baking in the kitchen calling his name. No visible gusts of scent like he saw in his morning cartoons, none that would lift his feet off the ground and carry him toward the scent. No, it smelled like his house hasn’t been occupied in days, which would be half-true. He’s been the only occupant.

It’s dumb, that’s what it was. He was thirteen years old, that’s a teenager, which was basically an adult. He knew how to be by himself, this wasn’t the first week he’s been home alone. However, it was the first week he’s spent in December by himself in years. Usually he spent it with Grandma and Grandpa, but they had to go on the work trip with his parents this year, and since he was a teenager, he didn't get a babysitter, and his parents fired the nanny. He’s old enough to take care of himself, and he just had to work up the courage to turn off the record player and walk through his house without loud noise filling the room with people who aren’t there.

The music made his home seem a little less empty, filled it with figures from his imagination, people dancing and singing to the music that he blasted from his record player and through his stereo. Dancing along with him on the coffee table while he sang the lyrics, holding his hands, spinning him, jumping up and down, just laughing and having a jolly old time.

A then 13-year-old Brenda Lee sang in the background, talking about dancing merrily. Steve hoped and dreamed about a bustling Christmas party, where everything he had imagined would come to life, just like what Brenda Lee sang about. He imagined family friends, coworkers of his parents and grandparents, and his extended family all coming together, singing and dancing, holding each other close, laughing and bickering. Steve dreamed of the day where he could have a Christmas party that doesn’t feel… surgical, or… professional was probably the better word for it. Most Harrington family parties, especially holiday parties, felt professional in a clinical way. Everyone shaking hands, holding martini glasses, no music playing, and everyone was always discussing numbers. Why were they always discussing goddamn numbers?

Steve wanted something warm. He wanted those gentle moments with his grandparents back, he didn’t want to be thirteen and practically an adult. He didn’t want to be waiting on the burger and fries he called and ordered from Benny’s. He didn’t want to be on his own.

Brenda Lee’s singing in the background lost its wonder, lost its charm. Something so joyful and jolly became absolutely melancholic, and Steve wanted to turn it off.

“Everyone dancing merrily in the new old-fashioned way!” Brena Lee sang, and Steve’s eyes welled up with tears. He shot up from where he was laying on the floor, and scrambled to the record player. He aggressively lifted the needle up off the vinyl with a scratching pause, and then everything went silent. Emptiness filled the home again, and he believed that this was just how it’s meant to be. No one was dancing merrily within these walls. No one was coming for him except Benny’s delivery driver. No one was merry at all. His home didn’t even have decorations inside or outside. It was dark internally and externally, it was cosmetically empty, as well as literally empty. There was nothing festive to show inside this home, there was no cheer, and there was no one. No one except for Steve.

Taking the Brenda Lee record off the player, he held the vinyl in his hand. He turned it to its other side, inspecting it for scratches from when he ripped the needle off. He sniffled, seeing water on the record. He didn’t remember spilling anything on it, nor did he remember having anything to drink to begin with. However, once he found another drip of water on the vinyl, he realized he was crying. His tears were the water dripping onto the Brenda Lee vinyl that has been making him oh-so goddamn miserable for the past few days of loneliness. He thought that playing her songs would give him the feeling of a warm hug, of his grandmother’s arms wrapped around his body, that it would make him smell the anise cookies that she would always bake from scratch. He thought that it would make him feel less alone, but it was only making him feel worse. It was driving his emotions into the gutter, making him miserable in the “new old-fashioned way.”

The doorbell rang, and Steve grabbed a bit of the cash his parents left him for food, and headed to the front to go get his dinner.

————

1974

His stomach hurt. Steve may or may not have snuck a few too many of Grandma’s cookies when she wasn’t paying attention. It twisted and turned into knots, and he most definitely didn’t feel too good. But he didn’t know if that pain was from eating too many cookies, or from his nerves. He didn’t want Grandma to be mad at him for eating the cookies she baked before she said he could. She told Steve that they weren’t done yet, that the two of them still had to decorate the cookies together. She said that they were still too hot to eat, but Steve likes them better when they’re fresh out of the oven, so he took them. He took a lot of them.

“Did a little thief come into my kitchen and steal my anise cookies?” His grandmother’s teasing voice boomed over the music playing in their kitchen. “Just wait until I find this little thief… once I get my hands on him, I’m going to tickle him!” She said, appearing in the hallway, her hands were ready to grab Steve and hold him close, to ‘catch the thief’.

Steve’s stomach felt significantly better somehow, as if his nerves washed away the second his grandmother began to joke around and tease him. He laughed, running away to go and hide from the tickle monster. He ran from his spot in the living room, and went to his playroom, where his grandparents had all of his toys and games set up. He hid behind his kitchen playset, one that his father didn’t want him to have because kitchens were ‘for women only,’ and that a kitchen would ‘make Steven soft’. But, Grandma got it because Steve wanted it. That’s why Grandma was his favorite.

So he hid, he wasn’t intending on not actually getting caught, he wanted Grandma to find him. He wanted her to grab hold of him and tickle him until he admitted that he stole the cookies. In their silly little game of cat and mouse, Steve was the mouse that was actually friends with the cat. When Grandma walked into his playroom, saying she smelled anise, he giggled. He gave his spot away, but Grandma pretended that she couldn’t find him. She ‘tried’ to follow the sound of his laugh, but ended up looking behind every object, under every elevated surface, pulling back each curtain. Grandma eventually found him, though, grabbing him from behind, chuckling at his startled squeal. She followed through on her tickle monster threat, tickling him until he said he was going to pee.

She helped him up and ruffled his hair. “Wait until I tell you it’s okay to steal some cookies, silly boy.”

“But… Grandma, Grandpa likes to take sneaks too. What if there’s not enough for me?”

His grandmother booped his nose before crouching to his level. “There is always enough for you, Stevie.”

Steve smiled and scrunched his nose, grabbing her hand. “Can we go make some more? And listen to music?” He asked, looking his grandmother in the eyes.

“And dance in the kitchen!” She insisted, kissing his forehead. She could never say no to her little Stevie's big hazel eyes.

He clapped, running into the kitchen with Grandma in tow, giggles drowning out any background noise as she dropped the needle onto her Brenda Lee Christmas record.

“Rockin' around the Christmas tree, at the Christmas party hop…”

————

1988

After a car ride that was most definitely longer than he intended on it to be, Steve parks in an empty space and gets out of the car. The ride was filled with songs from Eddie’s new mixtape, the one he made specifically for Christmas. It honestly was shocking to Steve when he found out how much Eddie loves the holiday, but now? Now he just accepts it, because Eddie’s attitude during the holiday season is absolutely infectious. He lights up every room with his smile, he sings every song in the kitchen when he attempts to cook and bake, and he commandeers the decorating, although Steve insists to do the tree together. Their favorite little family tradition is hot chocolate by the fireplace, watching movies until they fall asleep on the couch.

Steve is holding onto these little feelings of happiness as he walks into the building with Eddie in tow… as he walks towards his demise. He may be a little dramatic about this, but he knows that announcing Eddie as his partner could make or break his family. He knows his grandparents used ‘lover’ in their note, in their hand-written invitation, but that doesn’t mean it was a gender-neutral thing. Of course, Steve has hope… his grandparents are phenomenal people, and loved him through everything – him not going to college, him working minimum wage at Family Video, him trying now to get his EMT certification – but there’s always that lingering inkling of something that could go wrong, something that could prove him wrong. His grandparents are phenomenal people, but there’s always the potential that that could flip on a dime. Steve thinks he’s ready to find out the truth.

Eddie might sense his anxiety, because before they even walk up the main stairs to the Harrington office, Eddie laces their pinkies together. It’s a small show of, ‘hey, I love you, I’m here for you’, and Steve knows it, he knows all of Eddie’s little quirks, everything he does to keep Steve comfortable and safe, he knows all of Eddie’s little reminders of love – committed them to memory, in fact. Steve looks at Eddie and grins, small with no teeth, but a grin nonetheless. The two men push past the glass doors to enter the bustling office, and Eddie lights up. String lights and garland decorate the ceiling, and the office is truly festive. In true Harrington fashion, nothing is cheap, no plastic decorations. Everything is handmade, wooden, and antiques. There are some family photos of Steve and his grandparents framed on the walls, and Eddie is immediately drawn to them.

“Steve, oh my goodness.” Eddie whispers, tracing a finger over the outline of his younger self’s face. “Your cheeks were so chubby!”

Steve rolls his eyes and nudges Eddie away from the photo, searching around the office for his grandparents. He’s trying to remain as casual as possible, because if he is anything else, he will promptly freak the fuck out. The last thing he wants is to have a panic attack in this office building. Waving to some of the employees he’s known since he was a child, he guides Eddie through the cubicles, and around the office to find something to eat. His boyfriend is truly in his element, though, a wide smile slapped onto his face, eyes sparkling and filled with wonder and amazement. He can hear Eddie singing along to the Christmas song that plays over the stereo, and shakes his head happily.

He finds the table filled with little appetizers and drinks, and pours himself and Eddie some peppermint hot chocolate. If he spikes the drink with a little bit of the Bailey’s there, his grandparents don’t have to know. Handing one of the mugs to Eddie, he takes a quick centering breath. Being here, he feels stretched thin — maybe closer to gingerbread cookie dough that’s been rolled in too much flour, where it is so dry it gets to the point of cracking and breaking.

Words become hard, and he can’t really seem to get himself back on track, so he has Eddie just lead him around the office. Steve really zones in on Eddie’s singing, the words he stumbles on, the little grumble under his breath he does when he inevitably messes up the lyrics. He keeps his ears focused on his boyfriend, because if he turned his attention anywhere else, he might send himself into a panic attack. Or, he might just shoot himself into the atmosphere, put himself into orbit. Maybe he feels more like a dying star than a too-dry rolled out cookie dough. He’s burning, but when the pressure increases, when the stress increases, he explodes. If this goes wrong, he’ll explode. Just like the dying star.

So Steve just watches the Santa hat planted on Eddie’s head, watching it bobble and flail as he bounces — dancing while he walks. He keeps his focus on his boyfriend, watching how into it he is. Anyone who sees Eddie would think Halloween is his favorite holiday, that he’s all about spooky and scary, and although he does in fact love Halloween, Christmas is his favorite. Eddie secretly — but not so secretly — loves the Christmas spirit. He loves the holly and jolly, the music, the decorations. He loves the glitter, the sparkle, the shine. He loves the coziness, the warm feeling he gets when they cuddle by the fire. He loves exchanging gifts and making his family and friends beam with joy.

Eddie loves so deeply, and he embodies the spirit of the holiday, and that is why Steve knows he can do it, knows he can come out to his grandparents. Because, yes, he and Eddie discussed that the two of them will have each other no matter what, the words surely helped. But knowing how deeply Eddie’s love for the holiday and love for others runs, that’s what’s keeping him strong.

Steve spots a sparkle-covered felt Santa hat in the distance, and he recognizes it from his memories. He taps Eddie’s shoulder, and points in the direction of the hat. The two of them walk, pinkies entwined, and Steve feels like he’s going to be sick. His stomach is in knots, and his whole body is tense.

“I love you. You can do this.” Eddie leans over, whispering in his ear. “I’ve got you.”

Steve gives him a strained smile in return, nodding as he curls his pinky, as if to squeeze his hand and acknowledge his comfort.

His grandmother gasps happily once she catches Steve’s eye, opening her arms for him. “Oh, Stevie, my sweet boy.” She says, embracing him tight the second he melts into her arms.

“Hi Grandma.” Steve mumbles into her neck, hinging at the hips to hug the shorter woman. “Missed you.”

She tuts, fussing with his hair. His grandfather walks over and joins the hug, which shocks Steve, the man, much like his father, is never one for affection. However, after years of not seeing each other, and only using the landline to communicate, he decides now is the time for hugs. His Grandma is the first to pull from the hug though.

She looks Steve up and down, pinches his cheek and smiles. “Now, where is this lover of yours?”

Steve’s stomach drops. He swallows around the lump in his throat, coughs before turning his body to face both his grandparents and Eddie. “Um,” he takes a shaky breath, “Grandma, Grandpa, this is Eddie. My… my boyfriend.”

There’s a pregnant pause, and Steve might just throw up all over his fucking shoes. He begins to pick at the skin of his cuticles, thinking that maybe they’re trying to find the most respectful and quiet way to kick them out of the party.

But then, Steve’s grandfather extends a hand out for Eddie to shake, and Steve could cry. “Good to meet you son. Richard.”

Eddie beams at Steve’s grandfather, accepting and reciprocating the shake. “Thank you for having me, sir.”

“Nonsense. You’re family now. If Stevie’s taken a liking to you, it means you’re a part of a good crop.”

“I try my best, sir.” Eddie looks at Steve with happy eyes, and Steve wraps his hand around Eddie’s wrist, squeezing gently.

His Grandma clocks the action, and cups Eddie’s cheeks, inspecting his face. “Good job, Sweetheart.” She winks at Steve, before giving Eddie’s cheek a gentle pinch. “Laura, nice to finally meet you, but I don’t shake hands.” She pulls Eddie into a bone crushing hug, where his eyes nearly bug out of his head. Steve snorts into his hot chocolate, taking a sip.

He feels like he can finally breathe, like everything is normal, everything is okay. They just accepted him, casually welcomed Eddie into the family, supporting Steve with the biggest of gestures. Steve is fully content watching from the outside, a smile pasted onto his face as he observes their interaction. He listens to Eddie talk about his music, about his job at the garage, some of the things he enjoys. He listens to him talk about the kids, who graduate high school in five months, and his grandparents talk back and forth with him about Dustin. They know all about him because of Steve.

He feels like he shouldn't be as shocked as he is, with how his grandparents practically raised him, how they were the ones that brought him up, taught him love, kindness, and empathy. However, he’s astounded. They just heard his life-altering confession and went along with their evenings. They took it in stride and welcomed Eddie into their family.

So Steve stands there, watching the interaction with a smile, and if he tunes in hard enough, he thinks he can hear Brenda Lee over the stereo speakers.

————

1994

“Stop running, goose!” Steve laughs, chasing behind his three-year-old daughter.

Her squealing as she runs is like music to his ears, but he thinks he has an inkling as to where she’s running. He thinks he knows, because he’s drawn to the same place, like a moth to a flame.

He follows her to their kitchen, a warm gust of air blowing into his face when he crosses the threshold. Steve hears what his daughter is drawn to, the perfect mixture of two different voices singing together in the kitchen. One a deep rasp, and the other smooth like caramel but slightly broken with age. He pauses and smiles, watching Eddie sing in the kitchen with his Grandma, the two of them preparing all the ingredients for her famous anise cookies.

Eddie pauses, seeing Steve, and smiles from ear to ear. He feels a thump on his leg and looks down, seeing his little rascal down by his knees. “Gotcha.” He snorts, picking the little girl up and resting her on his hip. “Were you runnin’ from Daddy again?”

“But, I had to come here! You ‘n’ Gramma were singin!” She protests, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “Wanna make cookies.”

“Oh, I get it! You want to join the party.” Eddie smiles, pressing smacking kisses all over the toddler’s face. “Daddy was going to bring you, Bug.”

“Oh.” She giggles, burying her face into his neck.

Eddie laughs, shaking his head, bouncing her in his arms. Steve watches with a smile, slinking over to stand by his family. He presses a kiss to their daughter’s head, then stands next to his grandmother, watching her mix the dry ingredients.

“Brenda Lee?” Steve asks, a hand on his grandmother’s back.

Laura squints up at him as if he just asked a ridiculous question. “Would I really play anything else, Stevie?”

Steve shakes his head, laughing. “I guess not.”

Eddie bumps him with his hip, and Steve turns, sandwiching their daughter in between them.

“Jolie, this song is Gramma’s favorite Christmas song, might just about be mine and Papa’s too.” Steve hums, kissing the back of her head. “So you gotta learn the words.”

“Have to.” His grandmother corrects, gently tapping his shoulder with a spoon.

“Have to learn the words.” Steve smiles. “Eddie, my dear? Take it away.”

Eddie snorts, shaking his head as he tunes into the lyrics of the song, singing happily. It takes a little while, but soon both Steve and Laura join in, all of them singing and teaching Jolie the words to the song that keeps on giving.

“Everyone dancing merrily, in the new… old… fashioned… way!”

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