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tickle-bugs · 2 years

Text

I’m So Down

Summary: Steve picks up Robin’s doodling habit and shares it with Eddie. Pretty soon, they become each other’s favorite canvases. Loose sequel to Summer Lovin’ but set a while after. (Once again reminding everyone that I have seen ZERO episodes of stranger things and am therefore not liable for ooc content thank u enjoy)

Word count: 4.4k + author’s note at the end!

“You’re staring, Harrington.” Eddie grins. “A picture will last you longer.”

“Maybe I just like staring at you,” Steve fires back, a dorky smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” Eddie presses a dramatic hand to his heart and flutters his lashes.

“Nah. Just the pretty ones.” Steve kisses the corner of his mouth. Eddie’s quietly stunned for a moment, and it’s always a win to see him even a little flustered.

“Be still, my beating heart.” Eddie shifts his arm off the back of the couch and drops it properly across Steve’s shoulders. He plays with the ends of Steve’s hair and finally pulls his eyes back to the TV. Steve indulges himself in more staring.

Eddie’s…nice. That’s an oversimplification—he’s nice to look at, to be around, to feel and enjoy. If the relief of a cool breeze, the fizz of fresh pop, and the glittering joy of sparklers could be bottled into a person, Eddie’s it. But, like, if the bottle were spiky and leather and metal as hell. Steve’s still learning about what does or doesn’t define something as metal, but he feels pretty good about this one.

Of course Eddie’s metal. Of course he is. It’s not a question. Everything that they’ve been through both together and apart is all the evidence necessary. But in these moments where he isn’t, where Steve’s curled into his side and they’re sharing a blanket that’s fraying with love at the edges, Eddie’s gentle and tender and humming under his breath. His black-polished fingers pluck at Steve’s bicep like the fretboard of his guitar. An ostensibly metal package for beautiful contents. Pretty.

“Now you’re ogling.” Eddie rolls his head to the side and raises his eyebrows suggestively. He runs his tongue along his canines idly. It shouldn’t be as distracting as it is.

“Your tattoos.” Steve dips his head in acknowledgment.

“What about ‘em?” Eddie shifts to better face him.

“They’re nice. They suit you.” Steve brushes his fingers over the bats on Eddie’s forearm. Eddie rolls over onto his stomach and props his chin in his hands, kicking his legs like a girl at a sleepover, and Steve can’t help but smile.

“Well, don’t stop there. Flattery is smiled upon.” Eddie army-crawls across the couch until he can lean up into Steve’s personal space. His nose crinkles around his teasing grin.

“Stop,” Steve laughs, clasping a hand around Eddie’s face like a catcher’s glove and pushing him back. Eddie, of course, responds with dignity and grace—he licks Steve’s hand.

“Dude, ew!” Steve wipes his palm on his jeans. Eddie makes his little devil face and hisses, but the sound falls apart into a sparkling laugh before he can finish. He rolls over and deposits his head into Steve’s lap, folding his arms behind his head.

The ambient crackle of the TV filters back in, busted speakers relaying maybe 70% of The Goonies as it plays. It’s better than nothing, though—Eddie loves this movie. He shakes both their bodies with his laughter, as if everything is bright and novel.

“What did it feel like to get these?” Steve’s fingers wander Eddie’s arms, poking at the tattoos he can reach. Robin’s been bugging Steve about inking him ever since she figured out how to stick and poke. She draws on him a lot while they talk sometimes, like a fidget or a stim, and the urge must have surpassed temporary art. Eddie’s got a couple of these too—they’re thinner and a little shakier than his professional ones. The small triangle inked between Eddie’s fingers pulls tight on his heartstrings. He’d never noticed it.

“Like needles in my skin. What’s gotten into you, Harrington?” Eddie pushes himself up on his elbows. His hair falls away from his shoulders, revealing the gentle curve of his neck to the light.

“Can I give you one?” Steve gets it now. The doodling thing. He’s never been much of an artist but there’s a perfect spot on Eddie’s neck that he fixates on. He’s honestly surprised doesn’t have ink there already.

“Elaborate.” Eddie squishes Steve’s face and pulls it down towards him. Steve smacks his hands away but doesn’t retreat.

“You never drew fake tattoos on people growing up?” Steve immediately rethinks the question when Eddie makes a face. “Robin and I do it sometimes. It’s fun.”

“I think I’m already pretty equipped in the tattoo department.” Eddie pulls at the collar of his shirt for emphasis. His black widow tattoo catches a glimpse of the outside world.

“Okay, but do you have one of my tattoos?” Steve’s really overselling his abilities here, but there’s no use turning back. Eddie stares at him for a while, just blinking, and then he chuckles.

“Fine.” He slaps his legs and heaves a labored sigh. “Where do you want me?”

….

Eddie shivers pretty frequently while he draws, but Steve doesn’t think much of it—some part of Eddie’s always in motion. His legs and fingers shake and tap at all times, even with his head pillowed on Steve’s lap. The Goonies has long since been swapped for The Evil Dead and it’s thus far distracted Eddie wonderfully. Steve’s not a horror guy by any stretch, but the movie has a lot of charm. He digs it.

He starts coloring in what he’s working on as Ash and Cheryl duke it out. Eddie gasps, and not at the movie.

“Steve,” Eddie mumbles, scrunching a little. Steve immediately retracts his hand.

“You okay?” Steve grips his shoulder. Eddie peeks up at him, something unreadable in his big eyes.

“I…yeah, nevermind.“ He’s suddenly very red. And weirdly quiet.

“Are you sure?” Steve cards his hands through Eddie’s hair as best as he can. He shivers and hums into the touch.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Eddie flourishes into a dramatic bow. Steve rolls his eyes and goes back to doodling. Eddie continues to twitch. Every time Steve checks on him, he gets the finger in return. There’s a cagey quality to it, like he’s equally embarrassed and bursting-at-the-seams about something, and for the love of Christ can’t he just spit it out?

“Munson, I can hear your brain sizzling. What is it?” Steve tugs on Eddie’s earlobe. Eddie bites at his fingers.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Keep going.” He settles back down, eyes stubbornly forward. When Steve doesn’t immediately continue, he gets an exaggerated wave of the hand that gets more and more aggressive until the marker touches back down. Eddie keeps shivering, keeps murmuring, but remains still.

It isn’t until Steve leans down to Eddie’s neck and blows to dry the ink that he understands.

Eddie squeaks. That’s absolutely the noise, like stepping on an old dog toy that’s seen a few storms. He turns towards Steve with comically large eyes.

“Oh.” Steve blinks, then smirks. “Ohhh. Forgot you were ticklish. Sorry.”

“You done?” Eddie’s scowling with no real heat, still red. Adorable. The twitching and deflection suddenly make so much more sense, all of it stupidly endearing. Flustered is a good color on him.

“Not yet. Finishing touches.” Steve kinda means it. He’s proud of his drawing, actually—he’s got a pretty damn good copy of Eddie’s guitar printed on his neck. It could be done. But then he’d be done. And that’s unconscionable.

Steve brings the marker back down with fast, feather-light strokes and Eddie dissolves.

He clenches his fists and waves them around like a kid having a tantrum at Scoops. He’s a firework of frenetic laughter, exploding in an instant and sparkling afterwards with waves of building giggles. It’s like his body had been waiting for this moment to release all the laughter he’d been holding back, and it washes him away.

“Stop squirming!” Steve’s more amused than anything. For all his flailing, Eddie’s mostly stationary.

“It tihihickles!” Eddie gigglesnorts and buries his face in his hands. Five feet ten inches of allegedly-intimidating metalhead and he’s a frizzy pile in Steve’s lap. Steve’s never gonna forget that Eddie snorts for as long as he lives. He’s prepared to chase that sound for the rest of his life.

“Well, stop squirming and it won’t tickle!” Steve mockingly gasps, as if this is an epiphany they should be sharing together.

“Oh, I’m so gonna kihihill you!” Eddie’s nose and eyes scrunch as his dazzling smile takes the forefront. He points a threatening finger at Steve, dimple on proud display.

“Almost done,” Steve hums, drawing lightning bolts crashing behind the guitar. Eddie wails like a broken siren and Steve cracks into snickers at the sound.

“You are cruel,” Eddie whines, laughter still bubbling out.

“The cruelest. Tap out if you need to. I’m finishing this sucker.” Steve rests Eddie’s hand on his thigh, threads his fingers into his hair, and pushes his head back down. It looks a little silly, like he’s forcing him to take a nap, but getting Eddie to stay still in any capacity is always an ordeal.

With Eddie’s beautiful laugh filling the room, it doesn’t take long before Steve’s abandoning his task, tickling up and under his shirt until they’re both flying off the couch into a proper scuffle, then into something much more fun.

...........................

“This is sick.” Eddie turns in the mirror and grins. The fretboard of the guitar ends in wicked points just behind his ear. It rests eternally within an open coffin, surrounded by thorny roses that are starting to look more like cinnamon buns the longer they’re in the light. A swarm of bats reigns over the whole affair, hanging out in the sky with the best lightning bolt Steve’s ever drawn. There’s a newly-blooming hickey right below it, but neither of them acknowledge it.

“Yeah?” Steve leans his hip against the wall and crosses his arms.

“Yeah. Definitely the first time a tattoo almost cost me my life, but it’s worth it.” Eddie pulls his hair away from his neck to get a better look. He’s still flushed a pretty pink and smiles come to him easily. Just like Eddie to be so full of color and life with such a dark wardrobe.

“Want me to help you get it off?” Steve pats his pockets and finds a crumpled tissue. It’s unused, but the state of it makes him subconsciously start building a case for where it’s been.

“So forward, Stevie. I thought you were a gentleman.” Eddie makes eye contact in the mirror, then looks over his shoulder to make it in three-dimensions, leaning back until his gaze peeks through his lashes.

“If you keep this up, I won’t be,” Steve mutters, pulling Eddie closer by the belt loops. He wraps his arms around his waist from behind and Eddie squeezes his hand. Something giddy flutters within Steve.

“Promise?” Eddie grabs his chin and tilts it toward him. His thumb brushes over Steve’s bottom lip.

The kiss that Steve answers with has everything but decorum.

Naturally, Steve doesn’t know how to behave when Eddie gets his stupid little drawing permanently tattooed. The artist added some fun detailing to the piece that makes Steve almost incapable of believing it was ever his drawing at all—the coffin has a velvet lining now and the guitar has some gorgeous shading, but it’s still unmistakably Steve’s. Now Eddie’s. Permanently.

“Are you sure?” Steve haunts the door to the trailer in case he needs to flee. The other shoe should be dropping any second now, but all he’s getting from Eddie is an amused stare.

“Oh, my bad. Let me go get this un-tattooed.” Eddie rolls his eyes and sheds his jacket. Steve worries at his bottom lip and stares at the tattoo. He does see something he doesn’t like. Above the art, Eddie’s added a banner that says ‘The Banished’. Steve scowls.

“If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have it. Quit worrying, you’ll wrinkle.” Eddie pokes Steve’s nose and pops his bubble of disapproval. Steve smacks his hand away, but not without a smile.

“It looks really good on you.” Steve traces Eddie’s jaw with his fingers, tilting it to get a better look.

“Yeah?” Eddie pauses, his voice wavering with something fragile and genuine. “…I was worried you’d think it’s weird. I know I didn’t tell you.”

Steve leans in and kisses him sweetly. The way Eddie melts into him will never get old.

“I love it...but it’s missing something.” Steve snags the marker off the coffee table. Eddie immediately holds his hands out with a goofy smile, excuses spilling from his lips, but Steve slides into his space unchallenged.

Fending off ring-clad hands from covering this apparently very ticklish spot, which he notes, Steve draws in another banner below the coffin that reads ‘The Brave’. Eddie gets it added as soon as the tattoo heals.

It becomes their ritual. Steve goes to work and stashes a movie or two under the counter, Eddie comes in and rents them, and they spend their nights in the trailer with good films and good company. Using each other as canvases isn’t always on the agenda, but when it is, it’s an event.

Steve becomes the proud artist of Eddie’s new Lord of the Rings forearm tattoo, though he gets assigned the entire series as required reading before Eddie agrees to get it inked. Eddie’s love for the books is a blessing, however, because he’s more than keen to read the grand passages aloud at literally any moment. The Tree of Gondor is his reward, and Eddie’s tattoo guy turning it into the pommel of an amazing rendition of Narsil, the blade realistically sharp, is a bonus.

Post-Narsil, Eddie suggests they take turns. He’s apparently caught the doodle bug and Robin has to have something to do with it—she’s been bugging Steve less and less about being her practice dummy. She actually joins them once or twice. But mostly it’s Steve and Eddie watching half a movie, then losing the other half under murmured conversations and drawing on one another.

Tonight, though, Rocky Horror is watching them.

“Harrington, sweetheart, if you keep scrunching, I’m going to draw dicks on your face.” Eddie doesn’t look up from where he’s perched over Steve like a goblin. His legs hang off the couch in a way that can’t be comfortable and his face is pinched in concentration mere inches from Steve’s stomach. Steve’s shirt has long since been abandoned.

He doesn’t dignify Eddie with an answer and tries to focus on Tim Curry’s crooning. Eddie’s singing along under his breath, occasionally breaking into louder sustained notes. He squeezes Steve’s thigh when he does this and Steve jumps every time.

Eddie slides to the floor between Steve’s legs and his brain goes places that he isn’t prepared for. Eddie must see something in Steve’s eyes because he leans forward, hands roaming up as he does. Steve’s already there to meet him. Eddie tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth and lets go, leaving their lips to brush, the fuckin’ tease. Eddie’s hands wander back down while he hovers just out of reach. Steve keens closer—

Eddie yanks him forward by the ankle. Steve’s head pomfs into the back of the couch and he groans. Eddie outright cackles.

“Why?” Steve doesn’t whine, he doesn’t.

“You should’ve seen your face, holy shit,” Eddie wheezes, melting into Steve’s lap as his shoulders shake. Steve rolls his eyes and moves to stand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Eddie splays his fingertips across Steve’s stomach and wiggles them ever so slightly.

Steve releases a strangled laugh, jerking his knees just shy of Eddie’s chin. He manages to get a half-baked apology past the barricade of giggles building in his lungs.

“Last warning. Stop moving.” Eddie raises his eyebrow in a silent challenge. He pins him back with a strong hand to the chest, bars his other forearm across Steve’s thighs, and gets back to drawing.

To his credit, Steve lasts a full ten seconds before he starts twitching again, biting the inside of his cheek to quell the laughter bubbling in his chest. The feeling of the marker on his skin is starting to drive him insane.

“Seriously?” Eddie’s exasperation being as funny as it is doesn’t help anything.

“Pick somewhere else?” He wishes he at least sounded like he means it.

“Oh no, nonono, it’s my turn. The dice chose our fate, we cannot abandon it now.” Eddie gestures to his jet black d20 on the table, still sitting pretty on a big 17. 17: pantline/hips.

Rolling for tattoo spots was a new invention, but it certainly became law a little quick for Steve’s taste. Though, that’s what he gets for dating a guy who threatens his dice and their families before he rolls them.

“I’ll pick a different spot.” Eddie starts to get up, a poorly-concealed note of disappointment in his voice. Steve makes a vague noise of protest. When Eddie ignores him, he pulls him back by the wrist.

“I’ll be fine.” Steve frowns. It takes some bickering before Eddie sits back down again, but with a quick kiss and some well-timed flattery, they’re back in business.

He does last longer this time. He muffles the snickers that do sneak up on him into his fist. He’s doing alright, watching the movie over Eddie’s mop of curls, but then Eddie’s licking his finger and swiping at the art, trying to clean up a line, and a laugh bursts out before he can catch it. Eddie looks up at him with an irritated twitch of his lip.

“I’m sorry, it—“

“Tickles?” Eddie’s annoyance evaporates, all an act, and gets replaced by a wild grin. Steve realizes what he’s doing, the fucking longest con of all time—

“Don’t—“

“Well, then—“ Eddie cackles in triumph.

“Don’t you dare—“ Steve hits him with a pillow.

“—Stop squirming and it won’t tickle,” Eddie finishes, doing a terrible, nasally mockery of Steve’s voice. He laughs and dodges Steve’s next pillow swing, squeezing at his waistline until he drops his weapon and wheezes a surrender.

“You suck.” Steve curls, his skin buzzing under Eddie’s still fingers.

“You love it.” Eddie pokes again for good measure. “Now are we doing this the easy way, or the hard way?” He pulls the cap off the marker with his teeth, twirling it like a drumstick. Steve sticks his tongue out.

“Fun way it is.” Eddie’s grin is just a little feral. Steve swallows nervously.

Steve has fought all manner of monsters. He’s watched a child explode things with her mind. He’s been through hell and back more than once. All his battle-hardened bravery flies out the window when Eddie goes back in to draw. Not because he’s doodling on Steve’s skin, nono, because when his other hand isn’t occupied with holding his canvas still, it’s actively tickling him.

“Asshole!” Steve shrieks, burying his face in his hands. He fights the urge to tangle his fingers in his hair.

“Not sure what you mean, Stevie,” Eddie singsongs, pinching at the underside of his knee, the perfect picture of innocence. He’s a fucking menace is what he is, and Steve’s gonna absolutely ruin him once they’re done.

Steve’s pretty sure his life flashes before his eyes at one point and Eddie must see it, because he murmurs an amused “hang in there, cupcake” and lays off his bullying. But he’s still doodling, and Steve’s far past any measure of pretending he’s composed.

“Et voilá! Another masterpiece complete.” Eddie pops up nearly 30 breathless minutes later with a victorious flourish. Steve’s chest has a faint, dull ache and his cheeks hurt from smiling, but he does it anyway when he catches sight of Eddie’s gleaming eyes.

Eddie’s drawn a spiked bat on his hipbone—Ah, that explains the maddening bunch of circles that he drew at the last minute there. An impressive crown rests at an angle on the bat. On the other hip, Eddie’s loopy, geometric autograph curves along his waistband, a little bat dotting the ‘i’.

“Where are the makeup wipes?” Eddie scrounges through Mt. Stuff on the coffee table, to no avail. He starts to scurry off to his bedroom but Steve grabs his wrist.

“Don’t bother. I wanna keep ‘em.” Steve traces over Eddie’s signature with his finger. Following the loops is oddly satisfying.

“Okay. Just don’t do anything stupid.” Eddie sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Like what?”

“Like get that shit tattooed. Those things are permanent, y'know. Don’t let the troubled youths lead you astray.” Eddie shrugs back on his melodrama like an old, familiar coat.

“Or what? You’ll ground me?” Steve crosses his arms.

“It’s not a good idea,” Eddie scoffs, flopping back onto the couch. Something cold and distant settles over his demeanor as he fiddles with his rings.

“Elaborate.” Steve pats Eddie’s cheek until he graces him with eye contact.

“Ah, he’s learned new words. Henderson teach you that one?” Eddie’s eyelids lower as he snarks, lashing out at nothing at all. He gets like this sometimes, like a storm that’s all thunder and no rain. He’s always on the defensive.

“You did, actually. What’s got your boxers in a twist?” Steve knocks their legs together. Eddie turns to face him. Steve catches the precise moment that he bites back an innuendo.

“Tattoos are permanent.” Eddie speaks slowly, as if explaining this to a child. Steve scowls.

“Yes, we covered this. Quit being a smartass.” Steve pinches his arm hard. Eddie hisses out an apology and backtracks.

“Rule number one is to never get a tattoo you’ll regret. You’re playing with fire here.” Eddie scribbles at the doodles he’s made and Steve flinches with a huff.

“I don’t regret them.”

“Yeah, now you don’t. It’s later that I’m worried about. Like when I finally do something to scare you away, but then you still have to look at my name on your skin.“ Eddie hitches his knee up and sinks deeper into the couch.

“You won’t scare me away, man. I’d literally never get tired of you.“ Steve furrows his brow. How is this even a hypothetical? He loves spending time with Eddie. He loves Eddie.

Woah, new development. But a good one.

“Okay, well, in a few years those words are gonna bite you in the ass and you’ll have to get a very creative cover up.” Eddie’s eyebrows lift as he scoffs, picking at the denim on his knee. Steve briefly wonders what or who might be hiding under his tattoos.

“Alright, this doesn’t seem to be piercing your thick skull.” Steve cradles Eddie’s face in his hands. “I will never get tired of you. Not now, not in a year, not in a hundred.”

“Not even in death?” Eddie’s being dramatic now, taking the low-hanging petulant fruit, and Steve indulges him.

“I’d be honored if you haunted me.” Steve kisses his forehead as tender as he can manage, lingering there until he can feel it sink through to Eddie’s brain.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a romantic, Harrington?” Eddie gazes at him, content to be held.

“Once or twice.” Steve shrugs. Eddie pulls him forward by the front of his shirt for a kiss, and Steve’s arms wrap around his shoulders where they’re meant to be.

...............................................

“You’re staring, Munson.” Steve grins when Eddie freezes in his peripheral. He’s not exactly innocent here, he is wearing Eddie’s vest and only his vest, but it’s hot out and that seems like enough justification. Not like Eddie’s helping—his hair’s pulled back, bangs hanging in his eyes, and the ponytail is unfairly mesmerizing.

“You’re distracting, sue me.” Eddie pulls Steve closer a little roughly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I can’t believe you did this.” Eddie wriggles a nail over his autograph, now permanently etched on Steve’s skin. He immediately squirms away with a huff.

Robin finally got her wish. It was an ordeal that took all fucking day, but letting her give him a stick and poke meant snacks, good company, and free ink. The only tax he had to pay was listening to Robin gag the entire time over Steve wanting Eddie’s name on his skin. As if it wasn’t a relatively small tattoo.

“Yeah, well, I thought it’d be nice to have something in common besides this.” He gestures to the rough plane of his demobat scars. “Plus, maybe I’ll finally be promoted to Corroded Coffin’s number one groupie.”

“Throw your bra on stage, then we’ll talk,” Eddie laughs, jostling their shoulders together.

“So you’re saying there’s a chance.” Steve leans in close, grinning, and Eddie shoves him away.

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous.” Eddie bites his lip on a silly smile.

“You’re just scared you’d see me shirtless and I’d be irresistible.” Steve folds his arms behind his head and kicks his feet onto the coffee table.

“I’ve already seen you shirtless, so check that off the list,” Eddie hums, leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“Then my work here is done.” Steve brushes his hands together and stands. Eddie grabs him by the waist and pulls him back down into a giggling heap. They roll around a little, Eddie managing to get Steve in a headlock and Steve managing to ruthlessly tickle until Eddie releases him. They land in a heap, legs entangled, and Eddie just gazes at him.

“I’m glad I got stuck on you, Stevie,” Eddie whispers, brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheek. The way Eddie looks at him is sometimes terrifying, the consumption of it all. As if Steve hung the moon and stars. And he would in a heartbeat if Eddie asked. But he hasn’t, and he’ll never ask, and it’s dizzying to be cared for so unconditionally by someone who deserves it all.

“Me too.” Steve shimmies underneath Eddie a bit. “I love you.”

Eddie beams like the sun, warm and beautiful and unmoving. He brings his hand to his mouth, thumb fiddling with his teeth as he lights the room with that smile.

“I love you too.” His voice cracks with emotion around the edges. His eyes glitter like river stones with unshed tears. Steve holds him steady, holds him close, and resolves to never let go. Even when Eddie gets snot on Steve’s shoulder.

When Eddie shows up a few weeks later with ‘Steve’ tattooed on his chest across a heart pierced by an arrow, Steve chases him around the trailer with a pillow until Eddie’s cackling through an apology. It’s the sweetest, craziest thing anyone’s ever done for him and he doesn’t care if it makes him a hypocrite, tattoos are permanent and Eddie’s an idiot.

But, just like Steve, Eddie doesn’t regret a thing.

....

A/N: Normally I don’t do these but I had some little things I wanted to geek out over:

- this was originally a 10k-ish fic that i squeezed down like an orange so apologies if anything felt weird or squished! Realized I do NOT know how to write Robin, Dustin, or Nancy lol.

- I imagine that Eddie is wearing Steve’s yellow sweater in this. It makes me happy.

- Get tattoos of anything you want, I’m not the tattoo police, but Eddie has a point: generally not a good idea to get tattoos of anything you might regret down the line. Shit can get expensive. I know so many people who got Game of Thrones and Harry Potter coverups, also people who got tattoos for people who are now not their friends/their exes. Be smart and take care of your tattoos! <3

- Eddie’s signature looks a lot like Ozzy Ozbourne’s! He’s practiced it for years and loves getting to sign stuff at Corroded Coffin concerts (though it’s usually just Steve, Dustin, and Robin heckling him while Will and Mike ask genuinely)

- You will pry Eddie giving Steve pet names, not limited to be including Stevie, sweetheart, babe, princess, pretty boy, etc from my cold, dead hands.

- Eddie gives me the vibe of someone who’d want a tattoo sleeve or even two, and I like to think the Narsil tattoo starts a Lord of the Rings one for him :)

- this concept is based on something I used to do with friends IRL in high school! We usually only did like hands/arms/ankles and I was voted out as a canvas bc I was too squirmy :/

#my fics #bug’s greatest hits #stranger things #steddie #steveddie #ticklish!eddie munson #ticklish!steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #i think i got maybe a 10% better read on their characters between this time and last time!!#this is all over the place and mostly self indulgent but I do really enjoy writing them. they're fun.#anywho i hope y'all enjoy!!#they kiss So Much in this but you can't tell me they're not like that

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