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alleiwentcrazy · 1 year

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Eddie hates it when people don’t answer his calls. He hates it with passion.

It reminds him of too many things. It reminds him of manhunts and abandoned sheds, and no one on the other side of the line. It reminds him of cold, clammy hands, of hunger, of fear. Breaking bones and eldritch horrors he’d thought existed solely in cheap movies, not in real life, until he was brutally made aware of the fact that when people say everything’s possible, everything is possible.

Every time someone doesn’t answer the phone when he calls, panic starts to boil inside his veins and his brain immediately makes at least a dozen painful scenarios for him to dwell on. He knows that technically, they just don’t know that it’s him. But it doesn’t make him worry any less, so everyone’s learned to respect the rule. They just have to pick up. No matter what. Or he’ll freak out, drop everything he’s doing and come unexpectedly to check if everything’s alright.

There hasn’t been a single situation when things were actually bad—people go get groceries, take solid, deep naps, or they’re simply too lazy to pick up sometimes—but he always does that. Always.

Especially if it’s Steve who doesn’t answer. What if he fell? Or someone mugged him? Or he got into a fight? This brain can’t take any more damage. What if he’s in the hospital now, waiting to be anesthetized before surgery, and no one’s called Eddie yet, because to society they’re just some dudes living together?

There are too many options. Eddie doesn’t like taking chances anymore, so he slaps the “I’ll be back in a few” sign on the door, closes the shop and speeds through the town like he has nothing to lose. (And it’s quite stupid, because he has too many things to lose now—but he’s allowed to freak out once in a while.)

When he gets there and sees Steve pacing and gesturing animatedly in front of the window of their tiny but awfully cluttered kitchen, he finds out exactly what it means to have the whole world on your shoulders. Or, rather, to be finally freed from the pressure it creates.

It’s okay. It’s just a stupid phone call. It wasn’t even important, anyway.

Despite that, he takes his helmet off. Won’t hurt to remind Steve of the rule. And maybe kiss his pretty face a little while he’s here.

He doesn’t even have to enter their apartment to know that Steve’s not alone. First off – if Steve’s pacing and rambling, an anxious trait he’s picked up from Robin, wasn’t a hint enough – it’s loud. Their paper walls can barely hold back a normal conversation, let alone something resemblant of a heated discussion. Honestly, Eddie has no idea how their neighbors can stand them sometimes, with his metal, their late-night conversations and non-conversations alike, with the kids visiting so often. Although Steve is optimistic (they have some lovely neighbors, like sweet Gran Fran, but don’t ever let Eddie express his opinions about that old hag from across the hallway, Miss Hermans), he’s still waiting for that complaint to be filed.

Second, he smells coffee. Steve never makes coffee for just himself.

Eddie opens the door gingerly, remembering how easy it is to completely unhinge them by accident, and is about to scream something about getting home, when none other than Dustin Henderson cuts him off with a shriek.

“—because it’s actually pathetic, that’s why! Get a grip, man, just do it!”

“Oh, it’s so easy for you to say, because you’ve never actually tried—”

“And maybe I never will! If you won’t do it, how can I learn how to do it myself? You know that you guys are the closest thing to father figures!”

“Hey, don’t make it about yourself for once, maybe? Some humility?”

Dustin’s quiet for a second, but Eddie knows he’s not about to admit full defeat. “Yes, sorry,” he chokes out, finally. “But you’ve tried so many times, you should know that it doesn’t get any easier on another try. Just do it, it doesn’t matter how.”

“It does, though! To me, it—it does. It matters,” Steve mumbles back, and Eddie can picture his face in perfect detail. It’s Steve’s small voice, which means he’s worried about something, even though his worry doesn’t make any sense in everyone else’s eyes. He’s unsure: his brows are pinched, lips pursed, stare skittering around the room, never focusing on anything. Dustin knows this face too, because his tone gets softer.

“Okay, then walk me through it.”

“What?”

“Walk me through it. You’ll know what you want, how you want it, when and where, and it’ll be easier when you try it next time.”

“Dustin, I really don’t—I’m not sure it can get easier, ever.”

“Because you’re scared.”

Steve sighs deeply before he responds. “Yes. Because I’m scared.”

“It’s been eight years, Steve. What are you scared of?” Dustin’s voice is gentle, curious. He’s not judging, he genuinely wants to know the reasons, and so does Eddie. He leans against the wall, trying to sneak a peek of the kitchen unsuccessfully, and listens. A while passes before Steve speaks again.

“I think—There are so many things I’m afraid of. But the main one… It’s still rejection. Not being enough. Because it’s not like it’s anything formal, right? It’s only a promise, and if it ends up turned down…”

Chair legs scrape the floor and Eddie can hear two soft slaps – hands on shoulders, probably.

“Steve Harrington. Calm down. You know it’s not going to happen—no, don’t argue. I know it, and this alone should be enough. You are an amazing person. You’re great with people, you’re bright, you’re sweet, caring, you have so many talents. I love you, Steve,” the pause that follows is filled with something so heavy there’s a shift in the air. It has a different smell now. A little salty, a little warm. “And he loves you. More than you can imagine, probably. So just pop the question, Steve. And don’t back out with some stupid excuse like this morning.”

“Pop the question,” Steve says, his voice firm, only a little timid. “Yes, I think—I think I can do that.”

Eddie bounces off the wall and takes quiet, slow steps backwards. He can’t hear anything else, even though the conversation continues. He bites his tongue hard enough to make it bleed a little. A coppery taste floods his mouth as he closes the door.

Oh, it’s just so, so stupid. He would have said yes. Each and every time, he would have said yes.

Later that day, when they’re lying in bed together, with the sheets rumpled, their bodies warm and mushy from the nap, with Eddie’s lips on Steve’s and Steve’s hands in Eddie’s hair, Eddie remembers the overheard conversation.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Because he hasn’t stopped thinking about it ever since.

Every single second of what, at first, seemed to be yet another annoying Monday, has been filled with reverie and anticipation. Dustin’s right – Eddie loves Steve. He loves him enough to risk hell for him, enough to argue with anyone who’s in any way mean to him. Enough to take his hand and say “You don’t have to be afraid when I’m with you”, even though Eddie’s the biggest coward in the whole wide world.

Eddie loves him. Loves his goofy smiles and scrunched happy faces, loves his moles and the uneven mustache he grows out sometimes when he’s bored. Eddie loves how gentle Steve is, how thoughtful and kind-hearted he is. How he helps Gran Fran replant her flowers each month with more enthusiasm than Eddie’s ever shown to anyone. How he talks to children, how much respect he has for those undermined by everyone else.

Eddie loves how he’s learned to stand up for himself. He’s proud of Steve, of how much he’s grown, of how he knows how to express what he needs and what he wants now. Eddie’s loved him for ages, maybe even longer than he’s aware of, but every single significant and insignificant change in Steve’s behavior and point of view makes him fall a little bit harder, every time. In any shape, in any form, there’s one constant in Eddie’s life: his love for Steve.

He likes to think that they do that to each other, both of them. That they help each other through inevitable changes, painful regressions and euphoric victories alike. He likes to think that together, they make one, healthy, living being – and apart they’re good, because they’ve grown to be good people thanks to the connections they’ve made overall. He likes this idea of just being good, together and apart. And he loves Steve for giving him the opportunity to be just that.

Eddie wants it to last. Desperately, intensely, madly. He wants it to last and he needs it to keep happening – he knows that, and he knows he has the capacity to do that. To be there, to stay. His hands touch Steve’s thigh, not in the slightest covered by those silly Hawkins Tigers shorts he’s kept, then they touch Steve’s soft, scarred belly, then they touch his chest, where his heart is beating steadily and peacefully, and he keeps kissing him and Steve keeps clingling back to him, and Eddie’s so sure.

He wants this. He wants to experience growing old together, he wants them to get all wrinkly and bald together, he wants the fights over who gets the most comfortable chair in their grandkids’ living room. He wants them to experience the highs and the lows of the family that they already have, and the one they’re going to build someday.

Eddie wants this. He wants Steve. The whole deal; the promised forever. And he doesn’t want to wait another second.

“Steve,” Eddie says, cutting the kiss short so suddenly Steve actually pulls him closer, chasing after the warmth of his lips. “I’m saying yes.”

“Mm. Okay,” he mumbles back, too kiss- and sleep-hazy to catch Eddie’s intention right away. He tries to bump their noses together—which is adorable, really, but Eddie can’t let him hijack and self-sabotage this proposal too.

“No, Steve,” he squeezes Steve’s side until he looks at him properly. “I love you. I’m saying yes.”

In awe, Eddie watches as Steve’s face goes through confusion, true bewilderment, a bit of fear and fleeting exhilaration, to finally settle on disbelief.

“How did you—”

Eddie laughs a little at that. “I called and you didn’t pick up.” Steve makes a little oh sound, already looking like a kicked puppy. “But it’s okay, doesn’t matter, not the point,” Eddie jumps in, anticipating an unnecessary apology. “The point is, I love you, and I’m saying yes.”

Steve stares at him for a long second, his eyes wide and earnest. His fingers slide from Eddie’s hair to finally settle on both of his cheeks, cradling them lovingly. Eddie kinda wants to cry.

“You’ll marry me?” Steve asks, incredulous, his voice only a bit louder than a whisper. The way he accentuates the word “marry” gives yet another layer of meaning to such a simple question. You’ll love me? Forever?

“I’ll marry you,” he replies without hesitation. “You’ll marry me?” You’ll love me? With my flaws?

“I’ll marry you,” Steve says back. Then he grins with his eyes glistening in the bedside light, and squishes Eddie’s cheeks so hard it squeezes the unshed tear right from his eye. “We’ll get married!”

Steve giggles happily, and Eddie laughs with him. There’s so much joy inside him—them, the whole room seems to get bigger. “We will,” he adds through a smile, already peppering his fiancé’s face with kisses.

“Oh gosh, I have to call Robin,” Steve manages through his giggles and Eddie loves him so much. “And Dustin!”

So, so much.

#steve harrignton #eddie munson #steddie #dustin henderson #stranger things #st4 fanfic #i've had SUCH a shit and busy month. i'm using them to heal myself lol #i wanted to make them so pathetically in love i accidentally made my eyes fall out of my skull bc of the cheesiness #proposal au #hehe #short and sweet #excuse me if i got too silly. my hand slipped

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bigdumbbambieyes · 2 days

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They used to have sex every single day.

Hot, rough, quick sex whenever and wherever they could.

In their cars, in their rooms, on the recliners by Steve's pool, on his mother's perfectly kept cream coloured couch.

Always frantic, always desperate.

But, that was then, and this is now.

Billy feels shame. And guilt. A lot of it.

He takes antidepressants now and they're helping a lot, but not in other ways.

He can remember the flash of disappointment in Steve's eyes the first time he couldn't get it up for him. The humiliation and shame of not being able to get his fucking dick hard for his hot as fuck boyfriend who loves him and wants him -- it had been too much.

Even the soft touches and whispers of 'it's okay' weren't enough to push those feelings away. He pulled away, ran away, to the bathroom to hide in his shame, tears in his eyes.

Because he's always been good at sex. Always ready to go. It was what people had always wanted from him, what he was good for, and now?

It's been over a month now. Billy doesn't even want sex, which is a startling and unsettling feeling, but he's getting used to it.

He knows Steve isn't, though. Or, at least, he assumes, because Steve will still and try to start things late at night and Billy will tell him that he's 'tired' or 'not in the mood' and he hates the way Steve mumbles a soft 'okay', like he's given up.

Steve had even tried to bring it up one day over dinner, but Billy shut that conversation down immediately. He couldn't even look into his boyfriend's eyes when he did.

He knows he's a coward. He always has been.

But, Steve isn't.

Which is probably why, tonight, he's crawled into bed beside Billy and wrapped himself around him so tight.

Pressing his cheek into Billy's shoulder, and when Billy glances over at him from his book, he sees those big Bambi eyes staring up at him, and those pretty lips part to abruptly say, "Even if we never have sex again, I'll be here."

It makes him blink, caught off guard by it, and he feels that nagging shame telling him to push Steve away or get out of the bed, but Steve wraps his legs around his and holds him tighter, his gaze unrelenting.

His pretty boy presses a tiny little kiss to his shoulder and mutters, "I read the side effects of your meds."

It makes his skin prickle to know that.

"Billy," Steve breathes, frowning, "I love you, y'know?"

Billy nods, swallows thickly and mutters, "I know."

"Then talk to me."

Staring down at Steve, into those earnest eyes, filled with so much love and frustration, Billy knows he should. He owes Steve that much.

"It's," his voice catches, feels a lump form in his throat, "It's hard to."

"Why?" Steve whispers, thumbing over his skin where he's grabbing Billy's other freckled shoulder.

He gives a shrug, wishing he could just tell his boyfriend to drop it, but he can't do that to him. He's trying to be better.

There's tears in his eyes now, he can feel them wobbling on his lower lashes, but he decides to be brave and push past that shame and embarrassment to confide in his boyfriend, his best friend, his goddamn everything to whisper, "It's...so fucking embarrassing."

The tears stream down his cheeks, his face twisting as emotions creep up his throat, and Steve's face softens immediately -- and then he's bringing Billy into his chest, letting him hide there for a moment as he sobs, rubbing his back and kissing his hair, comforting him.

He feels so small like this, whenever Steve cuddles him into his chest, but it's also so safe. He knows he'll always be able to have this because Steve always puts him here, whenever he needs it, and it makes him breath just a little easier, even as he cries.

"What's embarrassing about it?" Steve whispers, his tone soft and curious, encouraging Billy to open up.

And again, Billy fights back the instinct to clam up, to shut down, and mutters into the soft fabric of Steve's sleep shirt, perhaps a little bit too mean, "I can't fucking get it up for you."

"But it makes sense, with the pills," Steve mumbles, not even bothered by the harshness in Billy's tone because he's used to his boyfriend being sensitive, "Like, you still like me, right?"

"Obviously," Billy mutters with a sniffle, furrowing his brows as he continues, "It's just...so frustrating. I--we used to fuck all the time, but even if I try to get hard, I just...can't."

If he wasn't so fucked up he'd fuck Steve all the time.

"It's not your fault, Billy," Steve murmurs, his voice firm, "Not having sex doesn't mean I don't love you. You mean so much more to me than just fucking -- please tell me you know that."

And, he does. Billy does know that. "I do," he whispers, realizing, "It's just...more of a 'me' thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like..." he pulls away from his hiding place, just enough so he can see Steve again, in the warm glow of the bedside lamp, and it gives him enough courage to continue, "I've always thought that sex was...all that I was good at. That it was, y'know, what everyone wanted from me. So...when I realized that I couldn't do that, with you, I just...felt so embarrassed and ashamed."

Steve's eyes soften again, his voice just as soft as he mumbles, "Baby--"

Billy can't stop, "I know I'm shit at telling you things and how I feel, so I try and show you instead. And sex was always easy for me, to show you that I love you, because I got to make you feel good and that made me feel good, but...but now I don't know--"

"Coffee."

Billy's mouth snaps shut, confused, as he asks, "What?"

Steve smiles gently and reaches up to brush Billy's hair back, "You make me coffee every morning. You cook my favourite pasta whenever I'm sad. You massage my shoulders whenever you see me rubbing them, and even when I'm not. You always give me the blue piece whenever we play board games because you know it's my favourite colour. You're always the first one to reach out when we hold hands."

Oh.

"You do know how to love me, Billy," Steve murmurs, sliding his hand down from Billy's hair and to his cheek, thumbing over it with such tenderness it makes tears well in his eyes again, "I feel loved by you all the time. With or without sex."

Billy can feel his chin wobbling a bit as the new tears fall, because no one has ever loved him like this. He hasn't let anyone love him like this before. He feels stupid for ever thinking that sex would make or break them when they've fought literal monsters together.

"Do I make you feel loved?" Steve asks.

"Yes," Billy answers immediately, even nodding as Steve holds his face, "You tell me all the time and I feel it."

He feels it every time Steve praises him. Whenever Steve buys him a little something just because it reminded Steve of him. Whenever Steve lets him cry in his arms, like this. He feels loved when Steve encourages him to talk to him about how he feels because no one has ever fucking done that for him -- held space for him like Steve has.

"Good," Steve smiles, a little relieved, "And, I'm sorry, that I didn't realize it sooner -- I wouldn't have tried to, like, initiate and stuff. I feel like a dick, like I was pressuring you."

"You weren't pressuring me," Billy mumbles, reaching up to place his hand over Steve's on his cheek, "I felt fucking horrible for even saying 'no'."

"Never feel bad for saying 'no', baby," Steve insists, "It's nothing personal, I know that now."

Billy nods in understanding, the both of them staring quietly at one another, and Steve gives him a small smile that Billy returns weakly.

"I love you," Steve murmurs, scooting forward a little more just so he can brush the tips of their noses together affectionately, "I love you so much, Billy."

"I love you, too," Billy whispers, closing his eyes and nuzzling back, lowering his mouth a little more to press his lips against his boyfriend's in a gentle kiss.

He feels Steve kiss him back, soft and loving, so patient and understanding that it makes Billy's heart ache in gratitude and adoration.

He'll never love anyone else like he loves Steve, he knows that much.

"I'm willing to try, soon," Billy murmurs when they pull away, their hands still intertwined on his cheek, staring into those dark eyes.

"Sex?" Steve murmurs, his brows lifting.

"Yeah," Billy whispers, leaning into Steve's touch.

"Not because you feel like you have to?" Steve questions, worry in his tone.

Billy shakes his head, "No," and adds a little playfully, "I still want my boyfriend to fuck me, even if I can't fuck him."

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at that and leans in to kiss him again, nodding in agreement, "Yeah, we can do that. Whenever you wanna try, I'm ready."

Where there had once been shame and embarrassment is now a soothing feeling of being understood and known, so sweet that it makes Billy kiss his boyfriend again and again, wanting to say 'thank you' but knowing that Steve already knows.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #hurt/comfort #this made me fall in love w them all over again idk #I love it when they're healing together and will never get tired of writing it #bambiwrites

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