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ikarakie · 1 year

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the first time wayne meets steve is actually far before the events of '86. in fact, it's in winter of '85.

he's on his way back from work when he pops a tire. he's pissed off, it's cold, still dark, and the beginnings of fucking snow are falling around him, and he doesn't have a spare. the nearest payphone is probably three miles walk, and he's just readying himself to make the journey when, miraculously, a pair of headlights turn onto the back road.

the car slows to a stop behind wayne's, and he's struck by how fucking nice it is. a brown bmw 733i, one he thinks he's seen around a couple times. when the driver steps out, he realises that, yes, he has seen this car. because the boy behind the wheel is the harrington boy, and wayne curses every god out there.

he expects some snark. a good attitude and for the kid to make him grovel for help or outright deny any assistance. instead, he approaches with these wide bambi eyes, the absolute picture of concern.

"are you alright, sir?" he asks, perfectly polite. wayne huffs.

"popped a tire, ain't got a spare." he doesn't- doesn't know why he's telling him. really doesn't. but something about the kid makes him falter, makes his steely exterior give way ever so slightly. the boy crouches down to the tire in question, frowning as he inspects it. then nods, grinning. he says nothing to wayne as he heads back to his car, and for moment he thinks the kid's gonna leave him in the dirt. but, instead, he pops the trunk and hauls out a spare, rolls it over to the car.

wayne only watches, fascinated, as he jogs back to retrieve a little set of tools. sits his ass by his tire and starts going at it. he's in a thin, short sleeved tshirt and jeans. he must be fucking freezing- wayne is, and he's got a thick coat, gloves and a hat on.

"what're you doin', boy?" he asks, unable to sound anything but bewildered. the kid blinks at him.

"changing your tire, sir?"

"i ain't got anything to pay you back with." wayne warns, wary. the kid shrugs, continues his task.

"that's okay, i wasn't going to ask you to." he pulls the popped tire off and lays it by his side. "it's just a good thing we have the same size, huh?" he grins, a little shy. wayne has never felt so thrown off in his life.

was this really james and cynthia harrington's boy? would someone of those people's blood really sit in the cold to change a strangers tire? expecting nothing in return? "where's your layers, kid? it's cold as ass out here, you'll catch a chill."

"oh, i gave it to my friend." seriously? seriously? "i'm alright sir, not to worry." he says this despite his red cheeks and reddening knuckles.

he finishes fitting the tire a second or two later, and once he's inspected it, gives wayne an endearingly dorky thumbs up. it reminds him of eddie in all the best ways. "all done, sir!" he collects up all his tools and threads an arm through the hole of the tire, balancing it on his shoulder. "i'll take this for you, i have to drive by the junkyard anyways." he doesn't. wayne knows the harrington's live in loch nora, and that's the opposite goddamn direction.

"you really a harrington?" he asks, not missing the confusion and maybe even slight disappointment he's met with. "just- no offence, son, but i always thought they were nothin' but bad." he deflates even more, if possible. "how did they raise such a kind boy?"

it's such a sudden change, how quickly he's smiling, bright enough to light the damn road if he wanted. it's all bashful and excited, it makes wayne wonder if he's never heard a good word about himself in his life, which seems insane.

"i still got a bit of an asshole gene," he jokes, a little dry, "but i'm trying to be better, you know?" he motions to the tire. "if you can help, why shouldn't you?"

wayne wants to squeeze him, but refrains. thanks him a couple times over and forces the boy to take his hat before he goes, (despite his complaints). harrington bids him farewell and a safe drive home, and he's driving off before either realise they never learnt each other's names.

(wayne finds his out later, though, when eddie meets him at the door, worried that he's late. only after he's walked his nephew through the story three times and sworn up and down, yes, it was true, and yes, it was definitely harrington. steve harrington.

when they meet again after '86, in eddie's hospital room, that boy from all that time ago holding his nephew's hand, he does give him that hug. thanks him, for both this time and the last.

steve wears the hat in winter of '86. it makes wayne smile.)

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morganbritton132 · 3 months

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There’s a Twitter exchange where one Corroded Coffin fan posts a zoomed in picture of Eddie’s hand during an interview on a late night talk show.

All of his fingernails are painted black except for his thumb on his right hand. This thumb is painted baby blue with green writing but the quality of the picture isn’t good so you can’t really read it.

They caption the picture, “What’s this say?”

Their post is retweeted by one of Steve’s students with a picture of his hand where his thumb is painted black with a ‘SH ❤️ EM’ written on it with red polish. They’re like, “Probably this.”

#it is only Steve’s thumb that’s painted #he doesn’t often wear nail polish because he thinks it chips too easily and chipped nail polish drives him crazy #so it’s easier to just not wear it #if he is wearing nail polish it typically means El is in town #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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artiststarme · 4 months

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Eddie fucking hated driving. He didn’t like his life being at the mercy of the other idiots on the road and he certainly didn’t like having to follow all of the meaningless rules. If he wanted to speed or go through a stop sign with no one around, he’d damn well please, thank you very much.

He also didn’t like being trapped doing one thing for any period of time. It was hard for him to keep his eyes on the road and not pick at the skin on his fingers or fiddle with his rings. He wanted to get places without having to sit still and watch all the other idiots in cars on the way.

That’s why he fell in love with Steve the first time they went on a ride. Steve loved driving and the feeling of being free that came with it.

While Eddie didn’t like being the driver, he really did like being the passenger princess. He could hold Steve’s hand and fiddle with his fingers while he drove. He could air guitar and drumstick to Metallica even as Steve kept trying to turn the volume down. Best yet, he could road rage and flip people off when they tried to cut the Beemer off in traffic.

Dating Steve came with many benefits but the fact that he didn’t mind driving was the best by far (second only to the man’s kisses).

#Robin also tags along for these rides but she’s always stuck in the backseat #I really hate driving with a passion #I’ve come around to it lately but it’s still not my favorite #I need to get me someone to drive for me like Eddie did lol #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson

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sideblogofthcentury · 1 year

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Steve knows people.

As much as his little monster-fighting family likes to believe Steve doesn’t know much, Steve definitely Knows people. Steve can read anyone like a book, based on what they choose to wear, how they choose to act, what they choose to say.

It was a survival tactic leftover from growing up the child of a millionaire; attending fancy parties and big holiday dinners with people his father did business with. Meeting a bunch of very particular adults, always having to respond in the exact right way to keep his father in good professional standings.

Steve could have a five minute conversation with someone and know for sure whether he ever wanted to see that person again.

Steve knows people.

And that is exactly why Steve is confused out of his mind about one Eddie Munson.

See, Steve has been “putting the moves,” as Robin calls it, on Eddie for the last three months. He had been pulling out every stop, trying his best to romance Eddie like one of those suave men from the books that had every bored housewife in Hawkins panting.

Steve knows Eddie likes him back. When Steve calls, Eddie’s bored sounding voice perks up half an octave when Steve starts to speak. Every time Eddie sees Steve, his face softens and he gets this dopey smile, like he’s smoked 3 joints in the last 15 minutes. Eddie always reaches out to touch Steve, and when Steve returns the favor, Eddie leans into him like a metalhead-sized cat.

It is an inherent fact to Steve that Eddie likes him back.

So when Eddie rushes a goodbye, or pulls away from a touch that’s a second too long to be platonic, or refuses to make eye contact when Steve would really like to kiss him, it confuses the goddamn shit out of Steve.

And that’s exactly what Steve says.

They’re sitting on the roof of Eddie’s van, looking up at the stars, elbows touching as they each pillow their heads on their hands. They’d just snuffed out the butt of their second joint of the night, and were basking in the lovely high, the beauty of the night sky, and each other’s company.

And Steve, as we’d established before, mutters under his breath: “you confuse the goddamn shit out of me.”

And Eddie, startled and confused, does what he does best: he laughs.

Which makes Steve laugh.

Which makes Eddie laugh harder.

Soon enough they’re both clutching their bellies and cackling out into the warm summer Indiana night.

Eddie sits up to catch his breath, crossing his legs and turning towards Steve. “Were you talking to me?”

Steve looked up at Eddie and placed one hand under his head, one on his stomach. “Yeah.”

“I confuse the goddamn shit out of you?”

Steve chuckled, still panting from the laughter. “Yeah.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and poked Steve in the side.

Steve chuckled again, and shook his head. “You just confuse me, man. Us. This. It’s confusing.”

Eddie shrank a bit. He knew where this was going. (no he didn’t.) “Oh?” he mumbled, fumbling with his rings, avoiding eye contact.

Steve laughed. “That’s what I mean. You’re so confusing. You act like you want to kiss me so bad.”

Eddie froze.

Eddie’s brain was definitely broken.

Eddie had definitely smoked too much.

“I- you- what??”

Steve laughed.

Eddie blinked several times, wearing the most adorable confused expression. It made Steve��s heart melt. “I act… I don’t- what do you mean I ACT like I want to kiss you?!”

Steve took a deep breath and sat up, turned to face Eddie, and crossed his legs, touching both knees to Eddie’s. He covered Eddie’s fidgeting hands with his own right hand, and placed his left hand on Eddie’s thigh, just above his right knee. He leaned closer, watching Eddie’s chocolate eyes widen, darken, and flit to his lips. Steve smiled and Eddie’s breath caught, his hands flinching under Steve’s, and his eyelids fluttering in shock, before once again meeting Steve’s eyes.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “That.”

Eddie’s brain was still rebooting. “What?”

Steve shook his head and laughed. “You. Act. Like. You. Want. To. Kiss. Me.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “Steve, I’m gay.”

Steve laughed again, and Eddie frowned. “What the hell, Steve?”

Steve laughed again.

Eddie scoffed and started to move away, but Steve’s hands, previously laying innocently on Eddie’s hands and thigh, now gripped him firmly, keeping him close.

“Eddie. I know you’re gay.”

Eddie blinked. “Then why are you confused?”

Steve let his eyes very obviously find Eddie’s lips, lingering there a long pause, before bringing them back up to meet Eddie’s, which are now almost entirely consumed by the black of his blown pupils. “Because you act like you want to kiss me sooo bad, and yet, here I sit. Unkissed.”

Eddie visibly stalled. His entire body flinched, he blinked several times, and his mouth opened a fraction of an inch and he inhaled as if to speak, but made absolutely no sound.

Steve smiled and started to stroke Eddie’s hands and clothed thigh with his thumbs, silently showing Eddie he’s not going anywhere, waiting patiently for Eddie to sort through the obvious shock that this new information has triggered.

After a moment of intermittent blinking, Eddie took a deep breath. “You- I… I didn’t think that was an option.”

Steve chuckled and licked his lips. “It is most certainly an option.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay.”

Steve waited.

And waited.

“Steve?”

“yeah?”

“You’re saying I can kiss you now?”

Steve giggled. “Yeah, Eddie. I am saying that.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay.”

Steve waited again. “Unless.. You’d rather I kissed you?”

“No, no, I wanna do it.”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

Eddie let his hands slip from underneath Steve’s, Steve moving his hand to Eddie’s other knee. Eddie cupped Steve’s face, fingertips threading into the hair behind his ears, his thumbs resting so gently on Steve’s cheeks. Eddie held Steve like he had the entire world in his hands, and for the first time in Steve’s life, he felt precious. Nobody had ever handled Steve so delicately, and his head was swimming.

Eddie’s eyes searched Steve’s face like he was looking for something, like he’d never get another chance, like he actually cared. Eddie looked at Steve like he was a sculpture in a museum, and it made Steve dizzy.

As Eddie shortened the distance between them, the last thing Steve saw before he closed his eyes was Eddie’s face flash with the most excited expression he’d ever seen, and Steve’s heart filled with joy.

And then Eddie’s lips touched Steve’s and his own brain failed him. He’d kissed plenty of people before but it’s never been quite like this. Eddie’s kiss was firm, soft, and entirely sure of himself, as if he didn’t spend months too afraid to do it.

Eddie’s hands advanced further into Steve’s hair, cupping the nape of his neck, tilting Steve’s head to deepen the kiss. Eddie’s tongue slid along Steve’s bottom lip, and took the opportunity of Steve’s surprised gasp to let itself into Steve’s mouth. Eddie’s tongue on his own distracted Steve from Eddie’s hands, and the next thing Steve knew, he was on his back with Eddie hovering over him, his knees straddling Steve’s hips, one hand shielding the back of Steve’s head from the metal of the van, his other hand holding Steve’s chest down, heating Steve’s soul through the thin material of his shirt.

Steve turned away to catch his breath, allowing Eddie to move his kisses to Steve’s jaw, hot breath on Steve’s neck sending entirely too much of his blood south. Steve sighed, shaking his head and let out an airy laugh. “You are so confusing.”

Eddie laughed into Steve’s ear. “What now?” His voice was deep and cracked, his breath in Steve’s ear making Steve shiver and grip Eddie’s lean hips.

“You-“ Steve panted while Eddie continued kissing his neck, “You acted so shy, for months, like you were too afraid to kiss me, driving me goddamn crazy. I could see how badly you wanted it and you never did anything about it. And now, here you are on top of me, melting me into fucking putty.” He pants a few seconds more, relishing the feeling of his earlobe in Eddie’s mouth. “Why didn’t you do us both a favor and do this months ago??”

“I told you,” Eddie mumbled, lifting his face up to meet Steve’s eyes with the most wicked grin, finally touching his own body to Steve’s in a full-body grind that led with his hips, followed with his chest, and ended with a loud groan from Steve, “I didn’t think that was an option.”

#this may or may not be based on real life experience #look sometimes it’s hard to know if someone likes you back #tops without firm grasp of romantic cues representation #bottoms who aren’t afraid to ask for what they want #eddie driving steve crazy challenge #steve knowing what he wants and also knowing what eddie wants #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things fic #steddie fic #steddie fix it fic #eddie is an idiot #oblivious moron

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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one, part two, part three. this a part four. this is so accidentally long but hickies as promised, w a brief return out touch starved steve <3 mwah!

Eddie is sure his kiss tastes of uncertainty.

He can’t help the way his lips betray his nervousness in their obvious restraint. He knows he had been far more enthusiastic last night, eagerness behind every kiss. This kiss is… softer. Shyer.

He can’t help it. Because even though Steve said yes, had maybe flattened Eddie’s heart by adding a please, Eddie’s still… unsure. Still worried. Still waiting for a punch to come because that’s what happens to boys who kiss boys.

But… Steve’s hands are still holding onto Eddie’s wrists, keeping them in their place where they cup Steve’s face so gently. When Eddie had leaned in, lips grazing Steve’s, he had felt the other’s tightening grip like a silent prayer, saying come close, stay close. Even now, the grip around Eddie’s wrists holds firm.

Though it’s the last thing he wants, Eddie breaks the kiss. He draws back, savouring the moment — the sweetness of Steve’s lips for what might be the final time — with his eyes shut tight. Did I do it right this time? He thinks, he hopes. Can I kiss you and keep you?

“I’m…” Steve starts, his voice a whisper. Eddie’s eyes open. His fingers flex along Steve’s jaw instinctively. “Really confused.” Steve admits quietly.

His face is reserved. Only slight ripples of anxiety peek through. The crinkle between his brows speaks of his abundance of confusion. Eddie’s eyes drink in every expression and he can’t stop help how his eyes catch back on Steve’s lips. He stares when Steve speaks.

“I thought you— I thought you didn’t want…”

“Didn’t want this?” Eddie echoes, with a tone of incredulity, eyes darting back up to look Steve in the eye. He punctuates the last word with another touch, the pad of his thumb touching Steve’s bottom lip bravely.

Steve shivers. His eyes flutter for a moment, in a way Eddie has come to know means his strange aversion to touch is flaring up but — but Steve’s hands keep Eddie from moving away when he tries. Steve nods slowly.

Eddie swallows — tries to push down the ache to kiss him again. They’re still twisted; Steve still doesn’t get it.

Neither does Eddie though. He can’t even imagine what Steve came over to apologise for. What mental gymnastics he had put himself through to somehow be the one who needs to apologise in this situation.

“Where the fuck,” Eddie breathes softly, with an appalled chuckle, letting Steve know he wasn’t mad. Wasn’t in the slightest bit annoyed, only confused. “Did you get that idea?”

Beneath his hands, Eddie can feel Steve’s cheeks grow hotter. The colour soon follows, a glorious crimson that fills the apples of his cheeks. And sure, fine, okay, sue Eddie if he enjoys the sight a little too much. Steve all flushed in the face, ears definitely warmer than they were a second ago.

Steve starts to stammer. “You— You sounded annoyed when I was leaving.” His brows are nearly touching in the middle, drawn together in concern. “I thought you were regretting—“

Eddie interrupts to clarify, suddenly aware of where they’d gotten so muddled. “I sounded annoyed because you were leaving, Steve. Not…”

Not because you asked for a kiss. Eddie’s throat dries up. He can’t say it aloud, not just yet. The words dance on the tip of his tongue. Eddie doesn’t trust himself not to fumble them.

Even though, Steve’s sudden departure had been due to a genuine misunderstanding, Eddie can’t— he’s not… He’s got to be realistic with himself, just in case. Not say too much too soon.

Steve reads into the silent lull in Eddie’s words and in an instant, his eyes are widening in understanding. Somehow, his cheeks glow even warmer.

“Oh,” Steve says, the word doused in relief, in understanding. “Oh my god—“

The rest of his sentence is lost as a car drives by, tires groaning loudly along the tar road. It serves as a quick reminder of where they are. In public, in such close proximity. Eddie steps back instantly, hands ripping away from Steve as a lick of panic runs up his spine. His eyes track the pale blue car down the road.

They were covered by the van but, still.

“C’mon,” Steve says softly, calling to catch his attention.

The panic wavers wildly for a moment before eventually relenting, Eddie dropping his shoulders as he turns back to Steve. He’s delighted to find Steve is no less red in the face.

Steve clears his throat, “We can call a tow back at yours.”

He gestures to his car, an invitation, with a smile. Eddie’s not even sure he’s meant to say something so reassuring; a mixture of the use of we and the implication Steve would come back home with him. Would come inside.

Eddie can’t help how he ogles at Steve. He’s doing another once-over to make sure Steve isn’t a mirage about to fade. Maybe Eddie had actually crashed his van when the engine spluttered on him and all this was a weird and extremely vivid coma dream.

Except, Steve doesn’t look perfect — not like a dream would.

Eddie can tell from the flatness of his hair, he likely didn’t sleep well. He’s got a tired but kind smile on. It’s shyer than Eddie’s ever seen before.

He’s still wearing that bright green Family Video vest for Christ’s sake — if Eddie was in a coma, he had some serious self-reflection to do if his brain picked this as his dream-Steve fit.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, with a nod and a smile of his own. “Lemme, uh, lemme just grab my stuff.”

Eddie turns to hide his face before Steve can see it grow into a wild frenzied smile, too gleeful to contain. He pops the driver’s side door and scurries around, grabbing all the essentials; cigarettes, lighters, and tapes with actual good music on them.

Steve’s waiting for him, still in the same spot when he slides the door shut. Eddie works the rusted lock to lock it up. No, Eddie thinks gleefully, this is not a dream.

Steve is surprised it’s not more awkward.

Not that he wants that— honestly, this sweet in-between phase where Eddie keeps glancing over at him, brown eyes longing and like he was checking if Steve was still there, as he talked on the phone, suited Steve just fine. More than fine.

And yeah, okay, maybe Steve swooned a bit when Eddie started twirling the cord of the phone, so much like a lovey-dovey teenage girl that Steve nearly laughed aloud. He wasn’t sure if Eddie even realised he was doing it. Just leant up against the wall, stealing glances at Steve — his fingers fiddling with the cord til they began looping it over and over.

Steve wouldn’t though— laugh at Eddie, that is. It feels pretty much impossible to do anything except sit with all his giddiness, just knowing that… his feelings for Eddie are mutual.

That Eddie hadn’t regretted the kisses in the slightest. That Eddie had wanted Steve for just as long.

It’s achingly sweet to look back on that first hug Steve had asked for — knowing they had both been toeing the line, trying desperately to keep their pining to themselves. Idiots, Steve scoffs to himself affectionately, they were both idiots.

Rerunning the memory of his hasty exit last night is less of a breezy memory. Steve doesn’t want to think too hard about what malicious ideas Eddie’s brain might have spun up to taunt himself.

He must’ve thought that Steve had left for entirely worse reasons. That the reason Steve hadn’t been able to look at him because he thought Eddie was… that he regretted… Steve shakes his head. None of those thoughts are pretty.

And, more importantly, they were untrue. Steve very much liked those kisses. His only regret that night was leaving the way he did. Honest, Steve would have more kisses if he could.

Something scorches across his heart delightfully because he can have more kisses — he just has to ask.

“Okay, thank you so much,” Eddie says appreciatively into the receiver. He dashes another look over at Steve, an apology in the form of his sorry grimace. He focuses back on the phone. “Yeah, I’ll be in tomorrow to see the damage. Thanks, again.”

He sets the phone back in the cradle and for a moment, Steve can’t see his face. Can’t see any of the nervous contemplation. Eddie finally seems to grasp his courage and spins, fixing Steve with a smile.

“Um,” He says, a nervous chuckle leaking through. Eddie moves closer but he moves all skittish, one of his sneakers catching on nothing. He stumbles just a bit, taking a quick seat on the couch arm beside Steve.

“Wh—“ Eddie starts to say. He huffs another nervous chuckle, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “This might be a stupid question but what… now?”

Steve thinks for a moment. He’s considering how to go about this when Eddie blurts out in a hopeful tone— “More kissing?”

There’s an unspoken please. Steve revels in the blush that follows the words.

He smirks up at Eddie, eyes tracing the bloom of pink on his cheeks. “What? On the couch, like I’m some common whore?”

“You seemed to have no problem with it last time, my liege.” Eddie points out dramatically, all with a grin.

“And I have no intention of repeating last time.” Steve counters. Then frowns.

“Well, except for the good part.” He corrects himself. “The first part! Just- Christ, can we go to your room instead, please?”

Eddie’s on his feet in an instant. He brings his hand up to his forehead and gives a salute with enough force to rip his arm off. Then marches down the hall and disappears into his room without waiting for Steve.

Steve thinks the nerves might be getting to him.

He walks the steps he’s walked a hundred times before, crossing into Eddie’s room and pressing the door shut behind him.

Eddie’s sat on the bed, criss-cross apple sauce style. He’s kicked his sneakers off — one’s by Steve’s foot, the other on the other side of the room.

Steve swallows and toes off his own shoes. He approaches the bed, climbing on gingerly and folding his limbs to match Eddie. That familiar swoop of nerves sits oh-so present in the pit of his stomach. Steve tries to think of it as a good thing — it’s good to have something so good that he’s nervous in his excitement.

For a moment, they just sit. Staring at one another. One of Eddie’s fingers is digging into the rips of his jeans, toying with the loose strands. It gives away his restless energy.

Steve waits. He asked last time and he knows — he knows Eddie wants to kiss him. But a small part of him…

“Why is this so hard?” Eddie blurts out all of a sudden. Like before, the words seem like they’ve come out without Eddie realising, but he barrels on. “Shit, I’m so fucking nervous. You make me so nervous, Steve.”

Eddie’s eyes won’t settle. They dart around. Move from Steve’s eyes to his lips, down, to the bed sheet beneath them. Like he still isn’t sure if he’s truly allowed to look. His admission makes Steve sorta wanna roll over and scream into the pillow. In a good way.

“I’m— Me too," Steve admits, a smile curling at his lips. “The- fuck, the way I feel about you honestly scares me shitless.”

Eddie seems to be both chuffed and relieved at his words.

“But I… want to kiss you,” Steve says assuredly. The next sentence he poses as a question, words a little more hesitant. More nervous. “And… and you want to kiss me?”

Across the bed, Eddie grabs a piece of his hair, twisting it nervously as he pulls it to cover his face. His usual nervous tell. Steve can’t help how he breaks into a grin when Eddie nods fervently.

“Cool.” Steve breathes. Then mentally smacks himself for saying cool. He tries to recover but Eddie beats him to it, with a question of his own. “Can I kiss you now?”

Steve answers by shuffling closer, til their knees are touching and then — like beside the road earlier — mimics the touch Eddie had given him.

Hands on either side of Eddie’s face, gentle as they curl under his jaw. Steve can feel the curls of his hair tickling at his fingertips. Another inch forward and he’d be burying his hands in Eddie’s hair. Steve bookmarks that urge for later.

Eddie looks nervous. Steve is undoubtedly making it worse, taking his time like this. But he can’t help it.

He wants to look — wants to stare, wants to devour every detail of Eddie’s face. Commit it to memory so he can picture it with his eyelids closed. What Eddie Munson looks like while waiting for a kiss.

The amount of affection that swells in Steve’s chest hits like a sucker-punch, enough he sucks in a tiny breath. He can see the smallest quiver in Eddie’s lip.

“You gonna stare all day, Harrington?” Eddie teases, but it lacks conviction when the words wobble a bit.

“Just enjoying the view,” Steve remarks, and then, finally, he kisses Eddie.

It’s the floodgate. It’s a frenzy, kiss after kiss after kiss, the softness of them slipping away in lieu of making up for missed time. Steve kisses every apology onto Eddie’s lips and he receives forgiveness a dozen times back. It’s bliss.

Eddie’s a very enthusiastic partner, to say the least. He’s a little messier with his kisses, hands gripping the front of Steve’s shirt tightly, pressing forward in a way that pushes Steve back— but Steve certainly doesn’t mind. He removes his hands from Eddie’s face to lower himself back, elbows against the comforter as Eddie follows eagerly.

For a moment, a sprout of doubt pulls them apart. Eddie hovers, not getting too close. “This is… this is okay?”

Steve grabs him by the collar and tugs him down, meeting him in the middle for another kiss. It’s a fat unanimous yes. Something glows hot in his chest when Eddie smiles into the kiss. Grins even. In fact, he has to take a moment to cheese it out, his face tucked into hiding against the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve doesn’t mind. His hand strokes idly over Eddie’s hair, twisting in with the curls. He lets him take his time, lets Eddie work back up the nerve to kiss him again, except— with a gasp, Steve squirms at the sudden kiss on his neck, hot and soft.

“I think you were the one overdue for a hickie,” Steve breathes, hands threading through Eddie’s hair gently. He doesn’t pull him away though; lets Eddie figure out the best way to scrape his teeth against Steve’s skin as best he likes.

“Uh huh,” Eddie murmurs, barely heard. He’s too distracted.

“Eddie,” Steve tries, but it comes out far too close to a sigh. He tries again, this time with a proper tug to pull Eddie back from him.

It’s a bit of leftover King Steve the way he manoeuvres the both of them, rolling deftly so it’s Eddie upon his back and Steve hovering above him. Eddie manages to look both impressed and disgruntled at once.

Steve doesn’t let him get a word out. The pale stretch of skin down Eddie’s neck has been calling his name for too long and Steve is hungry for it. He grants Eddie one, two, three more kisses on his lips before he’s moving down.

He’s just getting started, lips pressed to hot skin when it happens. Eddie’s hands move up, skirting barely up and under Steve’s shirt, fingers searching. The unpleasant aversion prickles under Steve’s skin.

He locks up. He’s unable to do anything but; it feels helpless even as he tries to shake it off but he knows, he knows Eddie can feel it as he grows rigid under the touch.

It’s worse when Eddie tries to reel his touch back in. Steve wants to cry with frustration because it’s not Eddie— it’s fucking him.

“Don’t,” Steve pleads, his hand diving down to catch Eddie’s wrist and holding it there. He knows Eddie’s watching him closely, even as Steve’s eyes scrunch shut and he fights to fend off the uncomfortable feeling attempting to make home under his skin.

“It’s…” Steve wills himself to look Eddie in the eye, hoping the sincerity bleeds through his words. “It’s not you, Eds. Just— fuck, just… give me a second, okay?”

He releases Eddie’s wrist. Eddie nods, a minuscule motion. His brown eyes are watching Steve closely, darting all over his face wildly and after a moment, they still on his lips. Eddie makes a decision and pushes forward, planting a tender kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“S’okay,” He assures. Then gives Steve another kiss, this time on the lips, slow and sweet. Steve drinks it in, tries to savour the feeling of being kissed by someone who wants him. Wants him in every way they can have him. It's maddening.

Eddie’s hand moves an inch cautiously, testing the waters as his fingertips trace the skin of Steve’s tummy. He doesn’t flinch when Steve stiffens up again.

Like he can sense the frustration building up in the other boy, he captures Steve’s lips with his gently. Whispers against them again as soothingly as he can. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

It’s like the words run across the raised hackles of Steve’s soul, soothing and seeping out the tension from every muscle. Steve can feel himself relax under the words. Feels something inside him wobble and then tip over, finally soothed, finally settled.

This time when Eddie’s hand grazes along his waist, Steve shivers in a good way— and leans in closer, kissing back. His hands clutch back at Eddie’s hair, raking through to grip it sweetly. He tugs, jerking Eddie’s chin up and exposing his throat.

“Can I…” Steve begins. It’s a tease.

“Shut up,” Eddie grinds out, hands fixed on Steve’s waist. Now he knows he can touch, that Steve isn’t tensing up or flinching away, his hands are rabid. Hungry. They crawl across the skin, leaving hot scorch marks behind that tingle delightfully. “This hickie is so overdue.”

Steve grins wolfishly.

Eddie’s neck is a thorough shade of violet by the time he’s done, chest heaving. He looks devilishly handsome when Steve pulls back to admire his work and he barely gets a moment before Eddie’s back on him, lips hot against Steve’s own.

“My go.”

This time when Steve’s getting ready to leave, he half-heartedly pulls on his shoes. It’s a pitiful attempt to slow down the inevitable. He can’t believe leaving is harder this time; maybe it’s more to do with the hickies adoring his own neck and collarbones.

“Hey, I-“ Steve starts, already feeling flush in the face. Eddie’s watching him pack his stuff up, still pink in the face, but so evidently content with himself. He’s laid back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He’s showing off the dark lovebites on his skin, neck craned proudly.

“Mm?” Eddie hums, a cheeky smile on his face.

“When I— Robin.” Steve says, flashing a hand to his neck. “She’s- she’s probably gonna ask.”

Steve swallows. He somehow gets the feeling Eddie already knows what he’s going to ask — that he’s waiting for him to say it. Eddie’s grin says as much.

“And when she does, I—“ Steve continues, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. The kisses on it tingle beneath his own touch. “Can I… call you my boyfriend?”

Eddie glows. It’s the only word for the excited laugh that punches out of him, like a gleeful goblin.

Steve thinks he might just be falling all over again when Eddie rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. He pretends for Eddie’s sake not to hear his muffled shout that’s almost a squeal. His cheeks are ruby red by the time he sticks his face back out, his grin so wide it makes his eyes crinkle in the corner.

“Yes,” Eddie says, voice giddy. “Yes, please.”

And Steve’s so fucking glad he asked for that stupid hug way back when, because got a gremlin-level of affectionate boyfriend now to show for it.

and that's likely a wrap on the can i series for now ! i had an inkling of an idea for future but tbh i wasn't supposed to write this i like have 7 other fics callin my name. but alas! thank u so very much for the love on this, whether sending kisses to my touch starved self or talking bout needing a hug too in the tags <3 hopefully this heals all the right places <3 mwah my loves

tags below:

@original-cypher @maya-custodios-dionach @uwujinniee @attic-cat-blog @immortal-iratze @anaibis @orangeandthefairroadkill @etaka @silversnaffles @invisibleflame812 @eddie-hero-munson @jesskier @princess-eddie @impeachy @estrellami-1 @bloomingconflagration @newtstabber @iwouldsail @sundead @darksmistress @sydstroons @leethegay @superchellerific @eddielives1986 @jinxjinn @breealtair @steddieassheg0es @loopholesinmydreams @savory-babby @alittlegreyfish @izzy2210 @em9515 @killjoy-patrixtump @mrspasser @spectrum-spectre

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2btheanswertothequestion · 1 year

Text

(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)

When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.

It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.

"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."

"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."

"Eddie, c'mon-"

"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."

He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.

"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"

"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."

"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."

Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."

"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."

"No."

Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-

"Eddie? Gareth?"

Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:

"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."

She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.

"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."

Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?

"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"

She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."

His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.

"You're annoying."

He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…

It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.

His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…

"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.

"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."

"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."

She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.

"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"

Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"

"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.

(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)

Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"

"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"

"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."

"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.

She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."

Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…

Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.

"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"

Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.

"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"

"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"

Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."

Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."

"I had stuff I needed to drop off."

"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."

Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.

Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.

"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"

Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?

"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"

Holyshityesitis!

"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."

"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"

"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!

"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.

Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."

"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."

Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.

They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.

The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.

The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."

"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"

Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.

"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.

Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.

"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.

This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.

"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.

Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."

"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.

"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.

"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.

Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."

"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."

He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.

(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)

Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.

"I figured out where I've seen you before."

Eddie stiffens.

Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"

"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"

Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.

"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"

"November," Steve confirms, muffled.

"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."

Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.

"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"

"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!

"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."

"All parents do," Lucas says.

Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"

Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."

That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.

And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…

All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.

Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.

The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:

"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"

"Huh?"

"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."

The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, it is," Gareth says.

"It's not," Max says.

"It is!"

"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"

She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.

Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."

"Yes, it was."

"How do you know?"

She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.

Gareth screams, "WHAT!"

"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"

She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."

"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"

"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"

She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"

Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?

Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.

Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"

"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.

Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."

"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.

Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.

------------------------------

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,

I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part 4

#the entire conversation in the van - and the purpose of max's role - came to me late at night #and i was so excited i could barely sleep afterward #everything fell into place after that #steddie fic: november paramedic #steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #max mayfield #my writing #ok so about the car:#(first off i want to admit i know nothing about cars)#in the show steve drives a bmw 733i. the car is gorgeous imo. however while luxurious at the time it's not expensive today.#so i looked up modern luxury cars and found the 30 jahre m5 - the limited edition from when bmw m5 celebrated 30yrs in 2014 #only 300 got made and only 30 were sold in the us. they were as you might imagine expensive.#so the story here is that steve got one for his 16th birthday (would've been in 2015 in this fic)#probably from a doting grandparent since i doubt his parents would've given something so expensive to a teen #fun fact: every 30 jahre m5 is colored 'frozen dark silver' (gray. they're fucking gray.)#but since it's NOT steve's car if it's not burgundy and since i've already erased covid's existence... i don't think this change matters

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loveinhawkins · 8 hours

Text

Steve grabs the bag before Eddie can. “No, I’ve got it.”

Eddie glances at the transparency of the plastic bag: the outline of his battle vest pokes through it, neatly folded.

He sidesteps the rest of the group as they troop out of the RV. Steve’s still standing his ground by the driver’s seat.

“Uh, Steve, I can see what’s in there. That’s mine.”

“Yeah, but—” Steve huffs, still holding the bag tightly, and he almost seems… embarrassed. “Like, just. Don’t look at it right now, I’ve got it. I’m gonna dry clean it. Later, I mean.”

Eddie laughs. But Steve remains deadly serious.

“Uh, that’s nice and all, but I don’t think dry cleaning gets out… um, blood and…” Eddie pokes his head out the RV door, to where the kids are hauling weapons and tanks of lighter fluid with Robin and Nancy—a sight he steadfastly tries to ignore before he panics ad nauseam—and asks, “What’s your word for, uh, Upside Down related, uh, you know—”

“Slime?” Lucas offers.

“Sludge,” Erica corrects.

“Goop,” Max says decisively.

“Shit,” Dustin says.

Eddie nods. “Helpful, thanks.”

He turns back. He’d intended for all that to get Steve to crack a smile at least, but if anything, he looks worse; the expression on his face has shifted into evident guilt.

“Steve,” Eddie says, caught between being amused and… honestly, touched. “Relax. It’s fine, man.”

Steve keeps frowning. “But it was—”

“—not important.”

Steve huffs again, like he’s saying don’t lie.

Eddie changes tack. He hasn’t missed the fact that Steve’s change of clothes from The War Zone means that, sure, less skin’s on show, which is probably better for Eddie’s heart but, more importantly, his bandages are ‘conveniently’ concealed—which is decidedly less good for Eddie’s heart, so maybe they both cancel each other out.

If ever there was the time for sincerity…

“Maybe I care less about the damn vest, and more about the person wearing it.”

The pinch in Steve’s brow lessens. “Oh,” he says, soft, and then a little of his usual bravado comes back when he asks, “you sure?”

Eddie waggles a hand back and forth. “Kinda. It’s borderline.”

Steve chuckles. He puts the bag down on his seat, very carefully, as if it’s breakable, and Eddie’s heart does a little skip.

“Well. I still feel bad,” Steve insists. His tone’s light, but he fixes Eddie with a pointed look, don’t test me on this, Munson, ‘cause my stubbornness will win.

“Okay,” Eddie concedes, hands up in surrender. “Tell you what, Steve. What if I wore something of yours, to make it even?”

Steve wrinkles his nose, but he’s smiling. “What, and deliberately mess it up?”

Eddie nods gravely. “Like, it’s not quite Upside Down conditions, but whenever I cook, it gets pretty close.”

Steve’s smile grows. He makes a show of turning around in search of something.

“Huh, I must’ve forgot to pack my wardrobe.”

Eddie clicks his tongue in theatrical disapproval. “Yeah, that’s a pretty big oversight, dude, should’ve thought it through.”

“Guess it’ll have to wait for next time.”

And yeah, they’re joking, but still. Eddie doesn’t want to tempt fate.

“Next time? Nah, I’m praying all this shit is a one time thing.”

“No, I meant—” Steve hesitates, like he’s inadvertently stepped out of the joke, and he doesn’t know where to go from here. “Like. Whenever you come round.”

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie says; he hopes the quip is enough to cover his surprise, the long-buried thought—ridiculously high school, but true in spite of it: no-one’s ever invited me to…

Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, sorry, did you want it hand-written? The red carpet treatment?”

“Well, if you’re offering…”

“I’ll go get my quill,” Steve deadpans.

Eddie laughs. Says, only partly kidding, “It’s just, I’ll need some time to think it over.”

“The… invitation?”

“What item of clothing I’m taking, duh.”

“Right, yeah,” Steve scoffs, “major decision.”

“It is! You have whole ensembles, man.”

“Ensembles,” Steve echoes, but it’s got more of a French accent to it; Eddie suspects it’s a by-product of Steve helping Robin study, ‘cause she seems to be the only one who’s a polyglot in their contingent. “Get out of town, Munson.”

“Oh, like you don’t know. I swear, in winter, there’d be actual bets placed on what sweater you were gonna wear each day.”

“Uh-huh.”

Eddie hams it up, “Didn’t you wonder why so many girls were waiting to see you drive into school?”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve says, and he waves Eddie aside, about to jump out of the RV. “Lemme know when you’ve made your selection.”

Eddie knows he should leave it there. They’ve had their laughs, and it’s made to be forgotten about in the face of much more important things.

But that’s always been his problem, really. He can’t bite his tongue in time. He can’t help—

“The red one?”

Steve turns around, one foot off the step. “What?”

“The, uh…” Eddie clears his throat. It’s either say nothing or go all in. Fuck it, the shire’s burning. “I’ve decided what to—um. The red sweater?” Steve just keeps looking at him, so he adds, tentatively, “The one you’d wear near winter break?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know the one you mean.” He falters on the verge of speech, his lips twitching into a surprised little smile. He drawls, “You sure you weren’t placing those bets yourself, Munson?”, but it doesn’t sound mean, and his ears suddenly look a little pink, and maybe, maybe—

“No comment,” Eddie says, aiming for comically flat, but Steve’s smile is contagious.

“Okay, it’s a deal.” Steve steps outside—throws over his shoulder, “It’s yours,” oddly sincere; and Eddie wonders if they’ve really been talking about clothes at all.

#post rv driving scenes have gripped me again #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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kurtkankle · 1 year

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fruity four as text posts that remind me of them

#I too am a weird girl who can’t drive #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things fruity four #steve harrington #steddie stranger things #fruity four #stranger things steve #steve stranger things #robin buckley #robin and steve #ronance #nancy wheeler #kas eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie and steve #Robin and Nancy #text post #incorrect fruity four quotes

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

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Robin gloats at him over a stack of smiley face chocolate chip pancakes while a beam of sunlight through the diner window does its best to drill a hole in his head.

Fucking hangovers.

"Never. Drinking. Again," Steve groans around a mouthful of waffle. He rubs at his eyes, heels of his palms pressed gently to the throbbing ache behind his lids; gets a little smudge of syrup on his temple and can't even really be bothered to care.

"I can't believe you did coke," Robin says.

"I can't believe you smoked weed."

"I know."

Steve hesitates for a moment; nibbles a slice of bacon; swallows a sharp piece. He hasn’t tried weed again since... "Was it okay?"

"Yeah," she answers seriously. "Yeah, it was okay. It was nice, actually." Then she perks back up; runs a finger through the whip cream smile on her plate and boops some onto Steve's chin because she's an asshole. "Anyway," she grins with pancake crumbs stuck to her teeth, "it's officially time for you to fess up."

Ugh. Steve slides a glass of water her way, hoping she'll take the hint and swish. "Fess up to what?"

"To me being extremely correct?" She spears another bite of food; gives her fork a victory twirl. "You two are sooo disgustingly into each other."

"Shut up," Steve hisses. He drops his voice to a paranoid whisper, "Also, no, it’s not time to do that because we were only talking about... about him being into me."

"Steve." Robin looks him dead in the eye. Soul searching again; God, he hates that. Makes his armpits feel all sweaty.

He darts his gaze around the room, and Robin lowers her voice to match his volume and leans halfway across the sticky table so he can still hear. "You were literally giggling with your nose two inches from his belt line last night. But whatever you say, Sweetheart."

"Okay, no." Steve wags a finger in her face. "No. Absolutely not, you’re not allowed."

Robin cackles and tilts her fork so the sunbeam hits him right in the eye.

—

this is a cut scene from “i don’t know, you figure it out” and takes place between the end of chapter 6 and the start of chapter 7

#steddie #steve harrington has a crush #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #a little stobin fluff outtake because those two absolutely went to hangover brunch after driving max home #trailer park steve au #my writing #my fic

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morganbritton132 · 9 months

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Eddie is walking around what he thinks is an empty house while he live-streams. He walks passed the living room, pauses, and then turns around.

Steve is in the living room. He is in the living room with Max. Eddie dropped Steve off at Max’s house over an hour ago so, “How did you get here?”

Steve: Max drove me

Eddie:

Eddie: Max doesn’t have a license

Max, not looking away from the tv: It’s never stopped me before

#Don’t worry guys. Lucas dropped them off before he went to work #Max can’t pass the eye exam to get a license but she can drive #In the same sense that Steve can drive even though his doctor won’t sign off on him getting his license since he can’t go 6mo seizure free #eddie munson tiktok saga #eddie munson #steve harrington #max mayfield

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luckycl0ve · 2 months

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i'll show you who my sweetheart's never met

happy 10th anniversary of the release of captain america: the winter soldier

bonus version:

#catws #catws10 #stevebucky #stucky #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #Steve Rogers #Captain America #shrinkyclinks #i mean it came out 26th March here but what's a handful more days between the brainrot community #enjoy luv xxxx #valentine texas #knives tw #there WILL be other versions of this maybe tomorrow or later on i have to organise my drive so bad lol

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indiefilmfatale · 3 months

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long night? (cole x fem!reader)

gifs by 38across^ plot: you get the pleasure to watch cole play in one of molly's games, so he takes you to his room and shows you what he's made of content warnings: server/patron dynamic, dirty talk, doggy style, daddy kink, penetrative & unprotected sex, rough sex word count: 2.5k a/n: so i just watched molly's game and can't stop thinking about joe's lingering glances on all the sexy women so here we are smut below the cut!

You can’t take your eyes off of him. Something about the way he confidently puts his chips down, inching his card upward so he can sneak a peek. He smokes cigarette after cigarette, smoke perfuming out of his mouth as he stares down at the table. He’s not stressed if he’s down a bet, or even if he loses entirely. His demeanor stays cool no matter what.

Not to mention the way he keeps glancing up at you. You meet his gaze everytime. The most you’ve gotten out of him is a cunning chuckle, the occasional shift of his eyes up and down your body as he inhales a puff of tobacco.

But every time he raises his finger to order a drink, you give Ursula —the only other server in the room— a side eye and she gets the message right away. It’s not uncommon for players to take a server home, especially given the required uniform of a tight cocktail dress and 4-inch minimum stilettos. So it was a customary practice between hostesses to claim a player at the table, taking them all of their drinks and performing flirty bits of banter when you did. Last week Ursula took home the hot art dealer with the infamous 9-inch dick. So this week, it’s your pick of the draw.

And amongst the slew of old businessmen and retired actors, Cole — the 20-something trust fund kid — was the obvious choice.

He shakes his empty scotch glass in the air, eyes not leaving the poker table, another unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. You’d almost be offended if he wasn’t so handsome. You dutifully tap the counter and Pascal the bartender pours another glass. You put it on a server tray and walk over to him, staring at him relentlessly as you strut. Your heels don’t make a sound on the Plaza suite floor, so he doesn’t even notice you until you’re hovering beside him.

You place his empty glass onto your tray, replacing it with the new one. He leans back in his chair, unsurprised by your presence but not at all invaded. He smirks, the stick of nicotine floundering upward like it's a toothpick. You take a zippo lighter from your tray and light it with a flick, offering the flame to him. He leans forward just enough to light it, eyes darting to yours.

In this quiet moment, you can’t help but take in the view, for just the second it takes for his cigarette to burn. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough for his dark chest hair to peak out under a single gold chain. His dress pants scrunch up around his groin revealing a subtle bulge. His hair has been combed through with his fingers all night, now slightly disheveled with a few strands brushing over his face.

“Thanks, honey.” He acknowledges, eyes lingering at where your dress ends.

You don’t say a word. You’re not supposed to when cards are on the table. And Molly took a leap of faith in you in this job, so you don’t want to disappoint her. She’s in the corner behind her laptop and reading glasses, as usual, watching everything with a knowing surveillance.

So you just turn around unhurriedly, walking back to the bar counter, feeling Cole’s stare on your ass which admittedly looked amazing in this dress.

When this game ends, it’s 2 AM. A handful of players get up to pay or collect from Molly, others stay at the table for another game. Cole makes his way over to you, shuffling poker chips between his hands. You’re exhausted, leaning your body weight on the counter with your elbows as your waist sticks out between the bar stools. He plops down on the one to your left.

“Long night?” He asks, but you know he doesn’t really care.

You softly groan, rubbing your temple. “Try a long life.”

“Oh, poor baby has to serve drinks to rich men for a living. Sounds grueling.” God, you really want to hate him. But when you turn your head to look at him, his eyes are sweet and caressing. You melt instantly.

“I’d like to see you walk a mile in my six-inch heels.” Is what you manage to come up with.

“But you look so much better in them, doll.” His gaze works his way up your body, stabling them at your cleavage peeking through the low neckline. Pascal sighs from behind the bar, “Another drink, Cole?”

Cole doesn’t answer him, doesn’t even look in his direction. His eyes remain on you. “I’m staying right upstairs tonight. I bet you’ve never laid on a Plaza bed before, comfort like you won’t believe.”

It’s forward, but expected. And he’s right, you’ve never stayed in a hotel fancier than a Hilton. But that’s not why you want to go to his room, and he knows it.

“Sure.” You reply, standing up properly.

You follow him out of the room, giving Molly a glance on your way out to silently let her know to sub in one of the servers sitting on the couch beside her.

The elevator ride is tedious and silent. You’re only going up one floor, so you just stand in the middle while he tipsily leans against the wall to admire you. You swallow, meeting his eyes but not saying a word.

When you enter his suite, you notice that it's basically identical to the one below, sans the poker table and Molly in the corner watching your every move. He lets you in first, but then walks right past you toward the mini-bar behind the loveseat. You watch him pour two drinks and bring one to you, a musky brown liquid not even reaching an inch up the glass.

You two stand close in front of each other. He clinks his glass to your’s and downs the entire shot in one go. You just take a small sip, watching his throat swallow the harsh liquid. “You bring a lot of girls up to your hotel room?” You wonder aloud, taking another sip.

He shrugs, “Only when they're as gorgeous as you.”

You nod slowly, “Hm…”

“I felt your eyes on me all night. God, I was half-hard under the table thinking about getting you out of that dress.” He huffs, setting his glass down on the coffee table.

You finish your drink, setting your cup down beside his. Now there’s nothing between you two but a longing heat. “So are you just going to keep talking about it or are you gonna do it?”

He stifles a dry laugh, leaning in close until your lips are a mere inch apart. He sucks in a breath, eyes flickering down to your lips. “I couldn’t begin to tell you all the things I want to do to you tonight.” And with that, he grabs your waist and plants his lips on yours.

Your hands go straight to his neck. The kiss liquefies you into his arms, his hands gripping you in a way that presses your body flat into his. Your lips move together in hunger, depravity almost. His tongue sinks into yours and you can taste the cigarette smoke and scotch, and you feel yourself wanting to devour him more and more.

You feel his hands find the zipper of your dress and he opens it down the small of your back. The cool air on your body sends a small chill down your spine. He takes his time peeling the fabric off of your shoulders and down your arms, lips trailing over to your cheeks and down your neck.

When the dress drops to the floor, you're left in just a small pair of lacy panties. He kisses your clavicle, down your breastbone, gripping one of your tits while he begins to suckle at the other. You huff a breath of air, his tongue circling your left nipple. Your brain goes blank from the pleasure, eyes fluttering shut.

“God, you’re already wrecked for me, baby.” He mumbles against your skin, the hot air of his breath creating a whole other sensation.

You manage to tug at the backside of his shirt, untucking it from his pants. “No fair…” You sigh.

“Okay, okay,” Cole obliges, lifting his shirt above his head and tossing it onto the loveseat. “C’mon, honey.”

You return the heat of his mouth, his lips like a drug, as he works you backward toward the bed. You feel the comforter hit the backside of your legs as you find his belt buckle and undo it. He helps you tear his belt off. You unbuckle his pants, his tongue pressing against yours’.

Your hand dives into his pants and you finally feel the heaviness of him, thick and hard underneath a pair of silk briefs. He lets out a guttural groan into your mouth as you grip him, tugging half-heartedly on his cock. “That feel good?” You say against his lips.

“Mmph, mm-hm.” He moans. “I need you right fucking now.”

You kiss him again, suckling on his breath. “How do you want me?” You’d do anything for him to be inside you at this point, your core buzzing and soaked.

He leans over and licks your bare shoulder. “Turn around.” He says under his breath.

You slowly turn until you feel your ass pressed firmly against his groin, feeling the hardness on him between your thonged ass. He places wet kisses all down your back, wrapping his hands around you to grip your tits with ferocity.

“Get on all fours.” He orders softly, hands moving to your waste and guiding you onto the bed.

You crawl with your ass pointed at him until you're resting your hands on a handful of pillows at the top of the bed. You glance over your shoulder and see him kick off his pants and underwear onto the floor. He kneels onto the bed and places kisses on the fat of your ass cheek, biting down on the skin just enough to get a soft moan out of you.

Then you feel his fingers on your core. Through the lace, he rubs the fabric between the lips of your pussy onto the tip of your clit. “Fuck, your leaking through your goddamn panties.” He hisses. You rest your head in your arms, sticking your ass even further in the air and giving him better access. “You wanted this so bad, hm?”

“I needed this so bad, Cole.” You mimic back to him in a moan.

“And you’ll let me do anything to you, won’t you?” He presses a little harder on your clit. “You’ll let daddy do anything he wants to your pretty little pussy?”

You feel yourself get wetter at his words, the small movements of his fingers getting easier and slicker by the second. “Daddy can do whatever he wants, just give me your fucking cock, please.” He chuckles as you beg, high on his own power over you. “Are you sure you can handle it, sweetheart? I’m a bit of a stretch.” You feel him move your panties so your core is exposed to him.

“Please fill me up, Cole. I wanna feel you so bad.” You’re dying for him to give you anything, all of him.

He takes his bare cock and uses it to moisten himself with the wetness of your folds. As he circles your pussy with it, he sighs. “You’re gonna take all of me. Not some, all, okay?” You nod against the pillows, feeling ready and not at all prepared at the same time. He still doesn’t enter you. “I have to hear the words, sweetheart.” “All of you, Daddy. Give it all to me.”

And with that, he shoves his entire cock into you in one puncture, practically splitting you in half. You squeal, gripping the comforter below you tightly to steady yourself. He’s bottoming you out, and without pulling out, wiggling his hips against your ass. The pain mixes with pleasure in the most delicious way, and your eyes are already watering.

“Mm-hm, that's it, baby.” He pulls out slowly, only to buck into you again. You feel his fingers dig into his waist to give him better control. “You’re daddy’s little fucktoy.”

“K-keep… Keep going.” You whine, breathless.

He’s all smug about it, brows furrowing as he grins. He begins to pump into you at a dizzying pace, his cock tilting into your cervix at the exact right spot. You can already feel your first orgasm approaching. Moans spill from your mouth as you grip onto pillows, the headboard, the sheets, anything you can get your hands on.

“You’re so fucking tight, oh my god.” He groans. “And just soaking for me, honey, like you were meant for this cock.”

“Mm, daddy…” Your pleasure grows and grows, your pussy throbbing around him. “M’ gonna…”

“Fuck, are you coming already?” His pace remains the same, letting out these grunting moans. A coil in you snaps, and your orgasm hits you suddenly and violently. You're writing your face against the comforter as you're practically mewling against it.

He slows down as you come down from you high, but only for a moment. Within the lull, he sends a swift and hard smack to your ass. “Shit.” You moan.

“Only my cock can make you feel this way, hm? Only daddy’s cock.” He smacks your ass again, right where it's most tender and turning red already.

You’re so oversensitive from his cock and the spanks that you're drooling. Your moans are high-pitched and desperate for more. “Are you gonna cum inside me, daddy?” He groans at the invitation, bucking his hips sloppily and fast. Your ass is bouncing off of him, “Can I get another one out of you?” He breathes, reaching around your waste to play with your clit. The sensation sends you over the edge, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Mmmm, mmph,” You moan against the pillow. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” He doesn’t, only fucking you harder. He feels you pulsate around him again, thighs shaking. “That’s it. Cum for me..”

Your sweat beads down your face as you feel your second orgasm come over you. This one is overpowering and all-consuming, your hips writhing. “Oh… Fucking hell, I’m cumming.” You whine.

“Cum with me, baby. Let me feel you cum.” He refuses to stop his hips, fucking his own orgasm into you. You feel a deep warmth fill your pussy as his groans turn perversely pitchy. You tighten around him, pulling another moan out of him as his shoulders tense. He grips your ass with this whole hand, holding onto the cheek for dear life as he spills.

“Fuck me…” He lets out, slowing down and leaving his cock still and pulsating.

You both let out a synchronized sigh, and he pulls out of you tentatively. His cum leaks out of your hole and onto the blanket. You only have the energy to collapse forward, lying on your stomach as he lays beside you.

He smiles at your exhausted state, softly caressing the hair out of your face. You blink up at him, blissed out. “You can sleep here tonight, honey.” He grins, almost compassionately. “But I don’t think I can let you leave. I’m not done with you yet.”

#he was only in this movie for 5 min #and it drives me crazy #re: unproofed #joe keery mollys game #joe keery smut #joe keery x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington one shot

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