Corroded Coffin Fest

A demobat is flapping towards them.

They can hear them coming now. With the world this quiet, this still, they are very hard to sneak up on, which is kind of awesome. But Eddie knows that goes both ways. They are also making a lot of noise, just walking along. 

Eddie shrugs the bags off, both of them falling with thuds. Steve's bat in hand. He can do this. Has. But Steve generally takes the lead. 

The bat swoops low, and Eddie drops his shoulder.

Swinging, he makes contact with the bat, and it squalls. Shrieking at the audacity of Eddie striking it, as if it hadn't intended to rip his flesh from his body again at first opportunity. 

He hits it once. Twice, getting it to the ground. And then, he does the maneuver he's seen Steve do so many times, stepping on it, before ripping it in half.

Eddie looks over towards Steve. Wanting approval? Maybe. Wanting to make sure he's still okay? Definitely.

Steve is fine. Breathing a little heavy, but still upright as he coughs.

How they can still catch illnesses with no other humans around is beyond Eddie's comprehension. But Steve is sick. Pneumonia, maybe, with the way his lungs sound.

"Got him," Eddie says, smiling, and Steve nods, holding his thumb up. 

They've gotta find somewhere for him to rest. Two miles have come and gone.

Eddie isn't exactly sure where they are, but everything is covered in lush foliage. Kudzu, Wayne's voice in his head provides.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Eddie picks up the backpacks. He doesn't have time to wallow in his feelings. They gotta keep moving. Keep searching. For what, he's not sure. But Steve says walk, and Eddie will walk.

There's a set of abandoned train cars up ahead, and Eddie figures that might be as good of a place as any to sleep for a while.

"Train?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods. Train.

Eddie pries open one of the doors, checking it out, and it's empty. Except for some huge sacks of rice. Excellent. He hoists their backpacks up into the train car, and then squats down, making a booster step for Steve with his hands.

Steve steps into it, and Eddie pushes him up into the car. Then, he pulls himself up afterwards. Shoving the door closed behind them, only leaving a crack for fresh air and a sliver of light.

The pallets of rice seem like a pretty good bed to Eddie, and he motions for Steve to climb up. He does.

Steve sighs, like the relief of being off his feet is overwhelming. Eddie knows how that feels.

"Want me to take off your boots?" Eddie asks. Taking off shoes is a luxury these days, and Steve looks around, like he's weighing the risks. Finally, he nods.

And Eddie heads over, unlacing Steve's boots carefully, and then gently sitting them down, right within reach in case they need to bail quickly.

"Ah," Steve says, smiling, stretching his toes. "Thanks."

Eddie stands at the end of the pallet, and cups one of Steve's feet between both of his hands, kneading his thumbs gently into the sole of his foot.

"You feeling any better?" Eddie asks. He has to feel better. Eddie can't do this without Steve. 

"Now I am," Steve says, and Eddie isn't sure if he's just humoring Eddie or if he is actually turning a corner. Eddie hopes for the latter.

"That's good," Eddie says, and rubs Steve's tired, aching feet until Steve pats the bag of rice next to him. Eddie doesn't need to be told twice.

There's plenty of options, other pallets, but being anywhere other than side-by-side is unappealing. Eddie lays down, shoulder touching Steve's.

Steve coughs, but it sounds marginally better than it did yesterday or the day before that. Eddie'll take it. Baby steps. Moving forward is all they can do. When you're the only people in the world, as far as they can tell anyway, that's the only option.

Hell, maybe they'll even find someone else out there in the next million steps.

The point is – Eddie can put on a brilliant show and make thousands upon thousands swoon for him without a second thought.

But, when it comes to Steve?

Oh, Eddie is a weak, weak man.

Steve is currently side stage, propped against the empty gear cases, legs spread wide, a mischievous smirk on his face as he watches Eddie tear up the stage. 

Steve’s style has…evolved since the band has taken off. He’s ventured off the beaten path of polos and pressed pants to something somehow sharper and softer and wholly delicious. Starched polos switched for loose button ups in a slew of colors and patterns. Worn flannels, soft as anything. Band shirts. God, when Steve wears Corroded Coffin merch, Eddie is a goner. Crop tops. Torn jeans. Makeup. Eyeliner sharp enough to slice Eddie in half.

Today, he’s out to give Eddie a goddamn heart attack. Because he isn’t wearing the same thing they’d left the hotel in. 

Oh, no. He changed.

The little minx.

Because as they left the hotel, he was in standard fare – loose jeans, Corroded Coffin tour shirt, one of Eddie’s leather jackets, and a pair of dark tinted sunglasses.

Now?

Eddie trips over his own feet, manages to make it intentional as he sways with the beat, though he knows the guys fully caught it. It takes everything in him not to throw his guitar off, dart off the stage, and have Steve fuck his throat until he’s a sobbing mess.

Steve’s in a cropped version of the Corroded Coffin tour shirt. A tight fitting pair of jeans with so many rips down the legs they may as well be nonexistent. A few of Eddie’s rings dotting his fingers. And though he’s far away, he’s sure that Steve put on eyeliner.

Jesus fucking christ.

Steve winks as he leans back, the shirt riding up his stomach, brilliant gorgeous beautiful hair lining the expanse of his stomach. 

Eddie is so fucked.

They crash into the dressing room, swollen lips slick against each other, tongues probing and licking, teeth nipping at burning skin, the sweet harmony of their bodies playing together, tuning out the rest of the world. The taste of Steve on his tongue is enough to make Eddie feel like a religious man, make him want to drop to his knees at the altar of Steve’s body to worship. The sweet spiced sweat a lighthouse to him on the rocky seas.

“Have a good show, rockstar?” Steve’s swollen lips smile wide, a sharp glint to his eyes as he pushes Eddie against the door of the makeshift dressing area.

“Fuck me, Stevie. God. Look at you.” Eddie’s panting hard, eyes wild as he rakes them over Steve’s body, a deep groan ripping from his chest.

Up close, he can see the smattering of glitter across Steve’s cheekbones. The way his eyeliner curves out, thick and sharp. The spiked earrings and chains across his ears. Eddie’s necklace, the pick resting perfectly in the hollow of his sweat-slick throat. Dark, coarse hair glistening beneath the jagged crop of his shirt. His ass hugged perfectly by these dark jeans, the rips in them letting his knees stick out and rut between Eddie’s legs. Thick, chunky platform boots that he wears to music festivals. 

Jesus christ.

If this was the last thing Eddie ever saw, he’d die a happy man. 

Steve smirks, slots his leg between Eddie’s, and pushes up hard. He leans in close and ghosts his lips across Eddie’s ear.  “Like what you see, baby?” 

“Fuck. Fuck yes.” Eddie shivers. “Fuckin’ wet dream, sweetheart. God.” 

Steve chuckles, sucks hard at the junction of Eddie’s neck and shoulder, teeth sharp against taut skin, pain shooting hot and electric through Eddie’s entire body, making him groan loud – loud enough he’s sure the techs can hear him as they pack up, but, honestly, everyone is used to this by now, giving Steve and Eddie a wide berth post-show for them to get this out of their system. It’s the whole reason Eddie gets his own room at most venues when they can swing it. They’ve scarred one too many techs, and all the members of the band multiple times, by being walked in on in various states of fucking. 

So, yeah.

Eddie gets his own room.

Which he’s so fucking thankful for right now as Steve’s hands ruck up his shirt, sweat-slick from performing all night. It’s ripped from his body in one fluid motion, thrown somewhere he doesn’t even fucking care, too focused on soft fingers trailing hot against his skin, nails dragging across the expanse of his back. 

“You’re insane out there, y’know that?” Steve’s voice is gravelly, the hitch of it making Eddie shiver head to toe. “God, drivin’ me crazy with the way you move.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie whimpers. “Like – like watchin’ me, sweetheart?”

“Y’know I do.” A growl rips from deep within Steve’s throat, teeth biting at Eddie’s neck, pain hot in his veins. “Watch you all day, baby.”

Eddie manages a smirk as he grips Steve’s waist. “Maybe I should go a bit wilder, huh?” He grinds their hips together. “Give everyone more to see.”

Steve pulls back, eyes crackling with want and possession. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Like showin’ off how fuckin’ sexy you are to your fans?”

“Maybe I do.” Eddie bites his lip. 

“Showin’ the world just how goddamn hot you are, taunting ‘em with how you move ‘cross that stage?” Steve’s fingers snake around the back of Eddie’s neck, thread through hair there, and pull hard, making Eddie whimper as his neck tilts back, eyes locked with Steve’s. “You hopin’ one of ‘em will see you? Come backstage and let you fuck their brains out? Huh?” 

Holy fucking shit. 

The moan Eddie lets out is something he’s not even sure came from his own body. A deep, rasping noise that coils around the both of them, tight and hot and possessive.

Eddie’s brain is melting, spilling out of his ears. His entire body feels like it’s on fire and Steve has barely even touched him. He loves when Steve gets like this. When he gets so obsessive, so insanely turned on, so flooded with desire and passion that he simply devours Eddie whole. 

Eddie will happily spend his entire life being devoured by Steve. 

“That’s it, huh? Hopin’ one of them will throw themselves at you? Be a nice little hole to fuck after gettin’ off stage?” Steve growls, fingers tightening in Eddie’s hair. 

Every sense of bravado Eddie may have had vanishes. His whole resolve shatters immediately. 

“Fuck. No – no, I, god, Stevie,  fuck–”

“You think any of ‘em can make you feel the way I do? Think they know just how to make you fall apart?” 

Steve’s free hand drags hot down Eddie’s back, dips beneath the waistband of his jeans. 

“No, no, ‘course not, just, oh my god, just you, sweetheart.” 

“That’s right. Just me.” Steve slides a palm over Eddie’s ass, pulls their hips flush together. 

The hard expanse of Steve’s cock presses firm to Eddie’s hip, makes him whimper and nearly fold on the spot. Wants nothing more in that moment then to sink to his knees and take Steve hot and rough in his mouth. Show Steve how good he can be, how desperate he is to feel him, taste him, have him. 

“Maybe I need to show you who you really belong to.” Steve’s fingers slip between Eddie’s cheeks, deftly probing at his wanting hole. “Seems like you need the reminder.”

Eddie nods feverishly, presses back against Steve’s hand. “Fuck. Please.” 

The chuckle Steve lets out is dark and breathy, sending a brilliant shock through Eddie’s nervous system. He arches back, grits out a moan as Steve slowly pushes his way in, already making Eddie’s vision black out at the edges.

“Stay with me, baby. I’m gonna take you apart piece by fucking piece.” Steve drags his teeth along Eddie’s throat, biting and sucking, bruises blooming beautifully while his finger slowly teases Eddie’s hole, dipping ever so slightly in and out. All of it driving Eddie absolutely fucking insane. Steve slowly probes deeper, stretching Eddie open with just the slick sweat of their bodies, the half-dry friction of it zinging beautifully through every inch of his body, making him desperate for more, desperate for Steve.

“Fuck, Stevie, please, baby. Please. I need – agh– need you.” Eddie’s legs are trembling, feels like he’s about to collapse, crumple to the floor in a sweaty, horny haze. The adrenaline from performing still coursing hot in his veins and Steve’s knee between his legs are the only things keeping him upright. 

He can see Steve’s resolve chipping away. Sees it in the way Steve’s panting, hard and loud, eyes blown dark and wild, sweat coating his neck, surely dripping down to hair hair fuck chest hair give need need oh – 

Eddie claws at Steve’s shirt, rips it off his body, and moans so goddamn loud at what lays underneath. Nearly passes out, honestly. 

Because what he sees is Steve’s beautiful, hairy chest, slick with sweat, and his perfect nipples sporting sparkling jewelry with the fucking Corroded Coffin logo god what the fuck how is he real what –

“God, Stevie. When – oh fuck – when’d you get these?” Eddie pants, heart fully frantic as his eyes greedily drink in this fucking adonis of a man in front of him.

Their hips grind together again, beautiful, aching friction, as Steve leans in, breath ghosting over Eddie’s ear, “Ordered ‘em jus’ for you, baby.”

“Shit.” Eddie grips Steve’s waist, fingernails digging into soft, tanned skin. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He leans forward, starts kissing and nibbling at Steve’s pecs. Teeth leaving a jagged trail of bruises to beautiful peaked nipples. Tongue swirling around cold metal, swallowing down the vibrations of Steve’s moans, feeling them all the way to his desperately throbbing cock, his hole clenching tight around Steve’s finger.

“Fuck yes. Such a good – agh – good boy f’me.” Steve’s fingers tighten around Eddie’s neck, pull him impossibly closer, while his other hand keeps pushing and massaging deeper, faster, harder. 

Eddie is drunk. Drunk off the taste of Steve, the sound of his hitched breaths, the feel of fingers pulling at his hair, the heat of their bodies grinding together, the feel of thick fingers dismantling him from the inside out. When he pulls back, hot and panting, a thin strip of saliva connects him to Steve’s fucking beautiful nipples.

Steve’s eyes are blown wide, pupils darkened, gaze intense and desperate, fully focused on how Eddie is moving, reacting to his touch. 

The rough drag of denim on denim shoots through Eddie’s aching dick, the pressure enough to make him shudder, make him ache and beg and clench and plead for more more please god more Stevie fuck me please–

“Fucking hell.” Steve breaks.

In one smooth movement, he sweeps Eddie up and has him bent over the table, sending half empty bottles of water and granola bars flying to the floor. Eddie’s breath catches. Arches his back. Hands scrambling to find purchase anywhere before Steve grabs his hips, fingers pressing tight and hard, locking Eddie in place. 

“Looks like I’m gonna hafta fuck you right here.” Steve leans over Eddie, teeth nipping at his ear, breath hot and panting. “Somebody just can’t wait, can he?” 

Eddie whines, incoherent babbling spilling from his lips, his hips pressing back against Steve’s, grinding against his cock, desperately pleading with every roll of his hips for more more more, his hole sorely aching in the absence of Steve’s delicious fingers.

In the midst of it all, Steve presses soft, hot kisses to the nape of Eddie’s neck, whispers, “I’ve got you, baby” as his hands unbuckle Eddie’s belt and jeans and yank them down. Eddie’s cock strains against his boxers, thick damp patch soaked wholly through the thin fabric. He feels about two good strokes away from cumming all over this table. Starts begging harder, pleading for Steve to fuck him already, wiggling his ass against Steve’s hard cock, drinking in the shudders it sends through Steve’s body.

A sharp smack lands across one cheek, jolting Eddie forward, a broken moan spilling across the wrecked surface of the table. 

“Gotta put you in your place, huh, baby? ‘S that it?” 

All Eddie does in response is arch his back, wiggle his hips a bit. Knows he’s testing his luck, but he’s helpless when Steve gets this way. Helpless and desperate to be taken so  brilliantly and completely. To be destroyed from every angle. 

Steve grips him hard and slams him down flush to the table. The air is knocked from Eddie’s lungs. His entire body tingling with want. Relishing the sweet sharp specks of pain. Steve’s sweat-slick chest and the cold metal adorning his nipples press hard against Eddie’s back.

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy for me?” Steve’s breath is hot against Eddie’s ear. “Or am I gonna hafta make you?”

Christ. 

If there’s an afterlife, Eddie’s surely in it. 

The only way to explain this is by some divine intervention. Some greater being has come down and blessed him beyond his means with this beautiful supermodel of a man. 

“Guess I’m gonna hafta make you, huh?” Steve’s hand bullies itself between Eddie’s pelvis and the table, fingers swirling across the quickly building damp patch. He tsks to himself. “So wet f’me already. That’s my good lil’ slut.”

Eddie keens. Hips jerking forward against Steve’s fingers. Wordless please spilling from his lips. Wholly desperate for anything Steve is willing to give him.

Steve’s fingers slip beneath the waistband of Eddie’s boxers and yank them down in one motion.

The cool air hits his burning skin, making him flinch slightly – enough, though, to catch Steve’s eye. For Steve to stop his panting and grinding and lean forward, hands so gentle as they stroke Eddie’s face, voice immensely softer than it was three seconds ago. “You okay, babe? Too much?”

Eddie tries to nod, then laughs a bit at himself considering the position he’s in. “I’m okay.”

“Swear? ‘Cause we can stop.” 

“I promise, sweetheart.” Eddie smiles. “The air was jus’ colder than I expected.” 

The expression on Steve’s face softens then. Warmth and love and care bleeding through the map of his skin. 

“Well, let me warm you up then.” Steve presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips, a slight press of tongue against teeth against lips against -

Warm hands smooth over the curve of Eddie’s ass, fingers slipping back between his cheeks, grazing softly over his wanting hole.

“Fuck.” Eddie whispers, eyes blinking closed as he pushes back against Steve’s thick fingers, angling for more for pressure for full please fill.

“I’ve got you, baby. Don’t worry.” Steve leans back, his finger tracing the outline of Eddie’s hole, dipping slightly in and out and in and out. 

The mood is softer now. Laced with the same desire and passion and want, but covered in that thick layer of honey sweet affection, the bit that soothes Eddie’s aches, fills him with purpose and life.

The sweet connection of years of learning each other so well. Every new version.

There’s a shuffle behind him and then the cool sensation of fresh lube dipping inside. Eddie jolts from the touch, Steve quick to soothe him, press kisses along his spine, whisper soft praises into his skin, making Eddie melt into the stained wood of the table. 

Then, finally, blissfully, two strong, warm, thick fingers glide deep inside him, in and out, gently twisting and pressing and stretching him open. A deep moan rumbles out of him, his eyes rolling back, hands grasping for purchase on the table. His entire body feels like it’s on fire. Burning from the inside out. With how expertly Steve knows how to open him up, how to pull him to the fringes of his own sanity and back again. 

“That’s it. Doin’ so good f’me, baby.” Steve’s voice is syrupy sweet, melting into Eddie from every angle. 

Fuck. Eddie is the luckiest goddamn man alive. 

Steve keeps working him open, fingers pushing and stretching, until Eddie is shaking and sputtering incoherently beneath him.

“Fuck, oh – more, Stevie, please–”

“Yeah?” 

“Yes! Yes, please, please, more.” 

“I’ve got you, baby, don’t worry.” Steve pulls his fingers out, slow and taunting. Eddie immediately mourns the absence, a deep cry pouring out of him. Steve soothes him, gentle fingers tracing across his back, mapping the dark inked lines on his skin. 

The sound of a zipper opening and denim clunking to the floor carries through the air. Eddie braces himself.

However desperate he is for Steve to fill him up, it’s never not a stretch. No matter how much they prep. How often Steve beautifully takes him apart. The stretch still gets him, a burn so deep it melds with the very cells of his being. And, honestly? Eddie would have it no other way. 

He lives for that feeling. 

So, when Steve lines himself up, when Eddie feels the tip start to breach his wanting hole, he sighs, body relaxing under Steve’s expert touch. The second Steve bottoms out inside him, they both moan, something deep and guttural and beautifully harmonized. 

Steve trails soft fingers across Eddie’s sides. Lips leaving gentle kisses across his shoulders. Teeth biting and sucking and bruising the junction of his neck. Several minutes pass where Eddie slowly dissolves into a whining, begging mess. His hole clenching tight around Steve’s cock, making Steve curse against his skin. 

“Fuck. Need – more, Stevie, please god–” 

Which is all Steve needs to hear.

The table beneath Eddie creaks as Steve pulls out and slams back in, pace hard and brutal and everything Eddie has ever wanted holy fuck how is this real. 

“God, baby, you take me so well. Fuckin’ made for me.” Steve grunts, hips slamming hard against Eddie’s, the table shaking beneath him. 

He’s sure that they’ll get a complaint from the venue for messing up yet another dressing room, but Eddie does not give a single fuck right now. All he cares about is how delicious it feels to be so full of Steve. To have Steve ramming him so hard he feels it in his throat. God. He’s a lucky man.

“Talk to me. Tell me how good you feel.” Steve grunts on a particularly hard thrust, the movement sparking deep in Eddie.

Eddie groans, eyes rolling back, unable to form any words, his throat choked on every single thrust.

Steve grabs a handful of Eddie’s hair and pulls. Eddie moans as he’s ripped upward, his back arching against Steve’s chest, Steve’s cock curving deliciously inside of him.

Steve’s breath is hot in his ear, edges sharp and cutting. “I said talk to me.”

“Fuck - ‘m sorry, so good. God yes, so good–”

“Yeah? Feels good?”

“Yes! God, fuck, so good – agh.” 

“And who’s makin’ y’feel so good, baby? Huh?” Steve thrusts hard against Eddie’s prostate, drawing a deep cry from Eddie’s throat. “Who is it?”

“You! Fuck, Stevie, it’s you–”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Me. Not – fuck – not those fans, not the groupies, not – oh, yeah, fuck – anyone else. Me.” 

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, oh –”

“Think any of them can make you feel this way?” 

“No, no, fuck, I – god, Stevie – never, no– ” 

Eddie feels like he’s died and gone to whatever higher plane of existence there is. His body is mere putty in Steve’s hands, there to shape and move and please as he wants, and Eddie? Eddie has never been happier than when he’s beneath Steve, feeling him so deep inside.

“That’s it, baby. Look at you.” Steve groans, fingers tugging Eddie’s head back further, lips ghosting across his ear. “God. Lookin’ so – ungh – fuckin’ pretty f’me. Fit on my cock so well.”

The coil in Eddie’s gut is sharpening, spinning tight, each thrust inching him closer and closer to pure ecstasy. He whimpers, begs, cries, moans – every sound leaving his lips a desperate plea for Steve. For any and every part of him.

“You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” Steve snaps hard and fast against Eddie’s hips. “Fuck. Feel you, so fuckin’ tight. God, just my tight lil’ hole, huh?”

“Yes! So close, oh my god, fuck, please please Stevie fuck need it touch me ple–”

Steve wraps his beautiful strong soft hand around Eddie’s dick. Grip merely ghosting against skin as he drags it up and down. The featherlight touch juxtaposed with the rapid thrusts settling somewhere sharp inside of Eddie. 

The tension builds, Eddie teetering on the edge of a cliff, the shocks of pleasure forming a life raft he clings to desperately. Stars spot along the edges of his vision, constellations he’s mapped a million times and never tires of. 

“Please, baby, please please, s’close, fuck–”

“Go ‘head. Cum f’me, baby.” Steve rasps, the measure of his hips stuttering in its rhythm. “Let everyone know who’s makin’ y’feel this good.”

“Fuck, Stevie!” Eddie cries out, the tension in his body finally snapping, vision blacking out, dark, hot pleasure coursing through every fucking inch of his body, lighting him up from the inside out, thick cum coating his chest and splattering the desk. 

“Fuck, yes, baby. So good. So fuckin’ good.” Steve groans, grip tightening in Eddie’s hair, hips stuttering hard as he cums, hot and thick and deep inside Eddie. Eddie clenches hard around him, making Steve let out a high, broken moan as he rides out the lingering waves of his orgasm. 

They stand there for a moment, panting hard, bodies slick with sweat and cum and all of them wholly content. Steve leans his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder, presses soft kisses there, making Eddie shiver, clenching softly again. Steve curses against him.

Steve gently releases Eddie’s hair, starts rubbing soothing patterns across his scalp, other hand gently tracing up and down his arm, lips pressing sweet promises and love into his skin. 

“Fuck, baby. You did so good. That’s my good boy.” Steve’s voice is hoarse, raw with want and emotion as he kisses up the side of Eddie’s throat, sucks hard beneath his ear. “My rockstar.”

Eddie chuckles. Leans his head back against Steve’s shoulder. Lets out a completely happy sigh. 

“Such a good boy. So perfect. So beautiful. So good.” Steve keeps pressing kisses along Eddie’s shoulders as he slowly pulls out, the feeling making Eddie wince and moan. “I know, baby. I know. You did so good.”

Before Eddie can even move, Steve’s hand is pressing back between his cheeks, the soft pad of his finger pushing his cum back inside of Eddie. 

“Fuck.” Eddie’s eyes roll back as he moans.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my good boy.” 

And, as if that wasn’t enough, Eddie is suddenly gasping as the firm shape of a plug pushes inside his still aching hole. 

Steve bites down gently on his ear and whispers, “Gotta keep you ready for me like the good little slut you are.”

By some miracle, Eddie doesn’t black out on the spot. Instead, he mutters a string of curses, hands gripping tight to the table to help keep his balance. Steve chuckles something dark before gently turning Eddie around and wiping the cum from his chest with a handful of tissues swiped from the table.

They trade soft kisses and touches as they clean each other up as best they can. Barely two minutes pass before their peace is interrupted.

Someone pounds on the door, three quick knocks, which means – “Bus is heading out in 5 minutes with or without you two!” Jeff’s voice is at least light, though Steve and Eddie know by now that he means business. They may have been left behind once. Or twice. Unimportant.

Steve presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips. “Time’s up, rockstar.”

“Soooo, what do I have to do to get you to wear these again?” Eddie runs soft fingers over Steve’s nipple piercings, making Steve shiver.

“Who said I plan on taking ‘em off?” Steve grins wide.

“Oh, you–”

More banging sounds through the room. This time, more aggressive. 

Much more.

Eddie and Steve lock eyes and sigh, because –

“Oi!” Gareth’s voice cuts through the room. “You two can fuck back at the hotel! Let’s go! Burgers are calling our names.” 

“That’s your best friend.” Steve grumbles as he pulls his clothes back on. 

“Like yours is any better.” Eddie teases, laughs as Steve pelts him with his shirt. 

“She is marginally better, yes.” 

“Yeah, okay.”

They fix each other up to at least somewhat presentable and fully clothed – and take a cursory sweep of the room to tidy up their mess. 

It’s to Robin’s knocking that they open the door four minutes later. 

She glances over them and wrinkles her nose. “Heathens.”

Steve grins and slings an arm around her shoulders. “Love you, Robs.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She shrugs him off and starts walking down the hall. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.” 

“Geez, can’t a guy get a minute of peace around here?” Eddie sighs.

Robin shoots him a withering glare. “We gave you, like, half an hour. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

“Hmmm, whaddaya think, baby?” Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and pulls him along. “I could use the food. Fuel up for round two.”

“Round three, even.” Eddie chimes in.

“Ew!” Robin screeches. “Heathens. Both of you.”

Steve’s laugh fills the hallway, swirls its way around Eddie’s heart like always, a warm comfort anchoring him back to reality.

So, yeah. Eddie has performed for hundreds of thousands, going on millions, of people. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing, can compare to being the sole audience for Steve Harrington. 

taglist (open):@sunshine-daydreams0809@saramelaniemoon@probablyin-bed@bookworm0690@watermelonmite@sanctumdemunson@5-fievel@nicememerino

divider credit:@saradika-graphics

thank you for reading :)

title inspired by "Kiss It Kiss It" by Renee Rapp

an: saw the prompt. immediate smut brain. bc apparently i write smut now!

this is wholly dedicated to @probablyin-bed <3 so proud of you for starting this new chapter of your life! i know how daunting it is. here's some smut from our favorite boys to help make the process a bit easier to bear. ilysm :)

Steve wraps his arms around him from behind, kissing his neck and then his shoulder, resting his nose against his pulse.

“You should come to bed, babe,” he whispers.

He’s right. He’s barely slept for days, and getting into bed and cuddling up to Steve will help his morose mood. It’s just that he’s twitching to grab his guitar and write something. He’s dying to get in his van and drive to Gareth’s house a mile up the road and come up with a new plan that’s doomed to fail. It’s a habit now, one that’s going to take a while to break now that they aren’t a band anymore. Not officially, anyway.

“Eddie? You okay?” Steve asks, voice louder now, laced with concern. He picks his head up, but Eddie quickly reaches back to tug him back into place.

“Don’t let go,” Eddie tells him. “Stay.”

And because Steve is an angel, and Eddie doesn’t deserve him, he does. He doesn’t ask any questions or try to say anything to make him feel better. He doesn’t push him towards the bed to try to make him sleep. He just holds him.

Eventually, Eddie turns in his arms and cups his face, kissing the corner of his mouth and giving him a small smile.

“Can I play you something?” Eddie asks.

Steve grins. “Always.”

He plays for a while. Too long, going off the yawns Steve tries to hide after a few songs. He’s slowly sinking down into the bed while Eddie strums and hums, occasionally pausing to write in his notebook.

Eddie plays until Steve’s asleep, light snores coming from where he has his face buried in the pillow. When he looks up, he finally notices Steve wearing his cropped Corroded Coffin shirt.

It makes him cry. He’s quiet about it, not wanting to wake Steve and see that worried look on his face again.

He wishes things turned out better for them. He wishes that Steve was visiting him on tour instead of sleeping in a trailer he promised he’d never come back to. He wishes he could say he accomplished what he set out to do, just one time.

—

He writes songs often, but the inspiration isn’t there. It’s harder without Gareth banging on his drums, trying to find any beat that works with the melody Eddie has in his head. They could try Gareth coming up with a beat first, but that’s just not how they do things.

How they did things.

Eddie looks around the record shop. He doesn’t mind this job. The owner’s pretty cool, knows a lot about every genre of music. He plays guitar and bass, too. Sometimes on payroll days, he sets aside some time to jam with Eddie after they lock up.

It’s fun as far as minimum wage, unskilled labor goes.

Jeff comes by every Friday when he’s done with his classes, flips through the new releases, even if he doesn’t like the artists. He just likes shooting the shit with Eddie. They’ve always been like that. Even when they argued about band stuff, they’d find common ground with something else.

Gareth practically lives at the trailer on Sundays, a desperate attempt to escape his own house. His grandparents visit every Sunday and turn it into a miserable place. Eddie doesn’t mind. Steve gives them space for hours before he usually yells for them to come eat. He always gives Gareth a long hug before he leaves, like he knows that Gareth’s grieving, too.

Frankie mostly makes Eddie come to him, but he doesn’t mind. He knows it’s because he had a falling out with his parents and doesn’t want to step foot back in Hawkins if he can help it. He’ll go wherever he has to to see his friend.

But it’s tough not getting together anymore. He wishes they could all just hang out, not as a band, without the pressure, without the commitment. He wants them to be friends again, real friends.

He just doesn’t know how to make that happen.

—

“Cake is in the oven. Wayne will be here in ten to help me set up the tables and chairs. Robin’s got beer. Don’t ask me how,” Steve shakes his head as he runs down his checklist for Eddie’s birthday party. “Dustin might be late. Said he’s bringing his girlfriend and she takes forever to do her hair.”

“Sounds familiar,” Eddie teases, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and kissing his neck. “You want any help?”

“It’s your birthday, you’re not allowed to help.” Steve turns to kiss his cheek. “You should go get changed, though. Pretty sure Gareth said he was coming early to avoid his grandma asking if he’d found a wife yet.”

“But he doesn’t even have to lie anymore!” Eddie groans, throwing his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. You wanna help me?”

“You don’t need my help to get dressed,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“But I could use help with…other things…” Eddie wiggles his brows and winks. “You said for my birthday we could-“

“I know what I said. I meant after your party,” Steve’s face is bright red as he looks back down at his list. “Plus, I’m not wearing that under these clothes. I’ve got too much to do still.”

Eddie smacks a kiss to his lips and rushes off to get ready for his party.

Everyone’s coming.

Even Frankie.

It’s not the first time they’ve all been together since the band broke up, but it’s the first time it’s happening under Eddie’s roof. It feels like there’s more potential for something to go wrong here.

It’s the biggest party he’s ever had for himself, but 30 is a big number according to everyone who cares about him. There’s a cake that Steve made sitting on the table surrounded by cards and gifts from everyone who loves him.

Jeff, Gareth, and Frankie are all standing together on the porch. They’re not arguing as far as Eddie can tell.

He joins them hoping it stays that way.

“There’s the birthday guy!” Jeff slaps his shoulder, nearly spilling the soda in his cup when he does. “Heard we’re cutting the cake in a few minutes.”

“Yeah, Steve’s got a pretty strict schedule for that apparently,” Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. He’s never been much for a schedule, but it makes Steve happy and he’s a big fan of that. “Enjoying the party? Need anything?”

Gareth snorts. “It’s your party. We don’t need you to take care of us.”

“I know, but-“ Eddie freezes. He swallows back the sudden lump in his throat.

The final thing, the one thing out of the millions of things that ruined their band, was no doubt that Eddie could be a little overbearing and overprotective about them. He wanted things to work so badly. He pushed on things he shouldn’t have because he thought it was best for all of them. He turned down things that the others wanted to do because he thought it wouldn’t be right for their sound. He fought with Frankie to protect Gareth, he fought with Gareth to protect Jeff. He fought with Steve to protect all of them.

In the end, he tried to be too in control.

Happens to all the greats, right? It’s just not a good story when you aren’t great first.

“I know.” He says again. He gives them a smile before he rushes off to find Steve. They don’t stop him. He’s sure his realization was written all over his face.

When he finds Steve, he’s pacing the kitchen floor, Wayne trying to calm him down about something quietly. It’s a bit unnerving for a birthday party, especially when everyone’s outside.

“Steve?”

Steve’s head snaps up and over to Eddie, eyes widening comically. Wayne mumbles something about idiots and walks out the back door to rejoin the party.

“Hey. Everything okay? Cake in a few minutes,” Steve says, plastering on a fake smile. Eddie steps closer, watching the way Steve’s hands are shaking as he tries to shove them in his pockets.

“I’m good. Are you okay?” Eddie cups the side of his neck, searching his face for any other clues about what could possibly be wrong. Could he be sick? He mentioned a headache yesterday, but he seemed fine this morning.

“I’m good! I promise,” Steve reaches up to wrap his fingers around his wrist, smile changing to something more comforting and real. “Are you happy?”

The question isn’t entirely unusual, but it still makes Eddie worry again.

“Of course I am. You brought everyone I love together and made my favorite cake. And we’ve got naked plans tomorrow. How could I not be?” Eddie tries to push his worry away as Steve leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

It’s probably nothing. Steve’s a bit worried that the weather won’t hold up for them and he doesn’t want everyone in the house, so maybe that’s what he’s so riled up about. Wayne was probably just offering to help bring stuff inside if the storms start earlier than they’re supposed to.

“Good. That’s all I want,” Steve kisses him again before he leads Eddie back outside.

He brings him over to the cake and yells for everyone to come sing. He didn’t think people did that for adults, but he goes along with it because it’s entertaining watching a bunch of mostly tone deaf adults try to sing together. He’s beaming by the end, almost forgetting he needs to blow out the candles until Steve nudges his arm.

When he blows them out and turns, Steve’s not there.

Well, he is there.

He’s just not standing up.

He’s on one knee, holding a very simple silver band. Everyone around them is quiet.

“I knew you weren’t just throwing a birthday party!” Eddie laughs, leaning down to tug Steve up off his knee. It’s his bad knee, because he’s an idiot. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Let me say this.”

Eddie grins at him. “Carry on.”

“I know life’s been different than what you wanted. You hoped to be the next big rock star and it didn’t work out. You didn’t wanna stay in Hawkins. You probably didn’t even think you’d end up with me, but here we are,” everyone laughs as Steve smirks. “I think we’ve got a pretty great thing going here. Even when it’s not perfect, and when we still hope for more, we’re together. That’s enough for me. And I’m hoping that maybe that’ll be enough for you, too. We can’t file the papers to make it legal, but Wayne’s already got a speech ready for us to get married right here in this backyard someday if you say yes.”

Eddie wipes a stray tear from his cheek. “You have to ask me first.”

“What?” Steve’s brows raise before he realizes. “Oh. Right. Eddie, will you please spend forever with me? Wherever that may lead us?”

“Yes. Of course I will. I’d follow you anywhere.”

Everyone cheers. They kiss. It’s like a movie if movies ever showed the kind of love they have.

“Best birthday ever?” Gareth claps him on the back. His girlfriend is standing off to the side. She looks like she was crying. “Guess that puts more pressure on me, huh?”

“Guess so. Surprised you needed any,” Eddie jokes, turning to give him a hug. “Surprised she’s waited this long.”

“I’ve got a way with my hands, what can I say?”

Jeff playfully shoves him and fake gags. “Sure you do. Congrats, Eddie. Steve’s been stressed about this for months.”

Eddie turns to see Wayne hugging Steve close, patting his back.

“He should’ve known I’d say yes,” Eddie smiles fondly as he turns back to them.

“He’s just worried about tying you down for real,” Frankie says as he steps closer. “You’ve never been much for staying in one spot forever.”

“I don’t mind if it’s with him,” Eddie admits. He’s not even lying.

Saying yes doesn’t really change anything for them. They’ll wear rings, have a little ceremony in their backyard, maybe they’ll refer to each other as husbands with their friends. But they’ve already been living together for years, seen each other through so much. They make plans together, they pay bills together, they struggle and win together.

He doesn’t think he’d have that if he had become a rock star. Sure, Steve supported him while he tried. He probably would’ve stuck around for a while if they’d made it. But who knows what would’ve happened a year down the road. Two.

There’s a million reasons why things didn’t work out for the band.

But he's not an idiot. Steve Harrington isn't gonna fuck another alpha. Especially not one that's such a freak. Not when he has all the omegas in their class throwing themselves at his feet. The stink of them is a cloying cloud that follows Harrington everywhere he goes.

Eddie flexes his ass, clenching, squirming in the cafeteria seat. This is ridiculous. He is a freak. At least his cock is, as it's currently getting all horny over another alpha.

Steve lifts his head from his tray, nose flaring, swiveling like a goddamn owl until his eyes lock on Eddie's. A knowing smirk curls on his lip.

Well, fuck. Just kill Eddie now.

Eddie gets cornered outside the school in the alley between the buildings, and it's fucking stupid. Everybody knows not to corner another alpha, especially not one their age. Young, dumb knotheads. All of them.

But Steve Harrington didn't seem to get that memo, and Eddie melts back against the brick. He doesn't want to fight Harrington. He wants to fuck him.

Correction: He wants to be fucked by him. 

Eddie spreads his legs tilting his hips upwards. It's obscene, and forward, but Harrington seems to react to it positively.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, and Harrington's eyes are blown wide as he scents him, extensively. 

"Yeah. Let's go." 

Steve wraps a big hand around both their cocks, stroking hard as Eddie looks around this very plaid room. 

"Fuck," Steve says, "I love your cock. You gonna pop? Let me feel your knot against mine?"

God, he's a freak, too. 

Eddie nods, frantically. Absolutely. He still wants. But they can start here. 

He feels the beginnings of Steve's knot, and it just fuels his own. 

Somehow, Steve's hand fits around them both, and he's jacking them both off, hard. Knots sliding together, getting bigger, catching against each other in a way that Eddie's never felt before. 

Fuck. 

Eddie comes, making a mess all over both of them. Steve follows, and they are just absolutely slick with it as Steve squeezes both of their knots, gently pulsating his grip. Eddie comes again. Groaning. 

Eddie's knot starts going down first, and when Steve feels it, he loosens his grip, allowing his own to deflate as well. 

Flopping onto his back, Eddie slings his forearm over his eyes. 

Steve does the same, arm brushing Eddie's. 

"That what you wanted?" 

Eddie laughs, the sound vibrating throughout his chest. 

"What?" Steve asks. 

"I wanted you to knot me." 

"But you're not — oh."

Eddie's humiliated. He rolls onto his belly. He can't look at Steve. 

The hand touching his ass cheek startles him, and he jumps.

Steve's wet thumb brushing against his hole is like lightning shooting up his spine.

"You think it's gonna fit?" 

Eddie laughs, unhinged. Wouldn't you know it? Freak finds freak. 

He’s asleep. At least, he thought he was asleep. Gareth’s knot started going down a few minutes ago and he didn’t budge. Normally, when he’s aching for it as bad as he is at the start of his heats, he whines until Gareth fucks him again. Knots him again. This time seems different.

“You awake?” Gareth whispers.

There’s no answer.

Jeff’s dick twitches against his stomach.

“You’re awake. C’mon,” Gareth pats his back. He wants to get up and at least get a quick rinse in the shower before Jeff needs him again. “Let me get the ice pack for you.”

Jeff groans and rolls off of him. That’s different, too.

Gareth’s brows crease as he sits up and looks down at Jeff. He’s not as sweaty as he should be. His nipples aren’t swollen like they get during his heats. He’s not curling into a ball the second Gareth needs some space. He doesn’t even seem bothered that Gareth needs some space.

“Did your heat pass already?” Gareth’s never seen him this calm after one knot. It usually takes three or four before he’s sated enough to sleep for a while. “After just one?”

“No.” Jeff opens one eye for a moment, then both eyes, before closing them again. “Just needed your knot.”

The words technically make sense. Gareth recognizes the meaning of those words in that order. He just doesn’t know why Jeff is saying them to him right now. Or what he actually means by them.

“Right. Because of your heat?” It comes out as a question because Gareth’s suddenly completely unsure about what’s happening. He rewinds, completely backtracks to the events leading up to this.

Jeff called him this morning and asked if he could come over. Jeff said to bring his usual supplies and plan on staying a couple days. Jeff said nothing about his heat.

He didn’t smell like his heat, either. Just his usual green tea and honey smell. None of the burnt sugar that sharpened the air around them when he was at the start of his cycle.

“Jeff.”

“Hm?”

“Are you not— is this not—“ Gareth rubs his face with a sticky hand, wincing when he remembers where it was only an hour ago. “You’re not even having a heat.”

“No.”

It’s simple. Gareth is about to have a panic attack.

“So why am I here?”

“Because I called you?” Jeff opens his eyes again and sits up, one brow raised at Gareth’s shocked face. “I wanted your knot, I asked for your knot, you gave me your knot.”

“Because I thought you needed it!” Gareth stands from the bed, ignoring the slick and cum drying on his dick and stomach. It’s the least of his problems.

“I did!” Jeff argues.

“But why?”

“You’re such an idiot sometimes. Seriously.” Jeff leans over and tugs on his hand, pulling him down until his face is only an inch away. “Why do you think?”

Gareth blinks.

“Oh.” He laughs. “Oh.”

Jeff rolls his eyes and falls back on the bed. “Oh.”

“For real?”

The tour has been fun. He and the guys couldn't believe that they were actually in Europe. They didn't have much time to go sightseeing, but they tried to make time to go on a little adventure at every stop.

Eddie dealt with missing Steve by writing letters. He didn't send all of them, god knows half of what he wrote wouldn't make sense. He did send some however, and he was delighted when Steve sent some back. He's surprised, the first time the concierge hands him a card. He assumes it was from their manager or the venue owner, but he recognizes Steve's loopy scrawl anywhere.

Dear Eddie,

I can tell that you miss me something awful. I feel the same way. You aren't missing much here. Work has been good. Do you remember Dylan from work? He's been taking me out with his boyfriend so I don't mope at home. Robin and Dustin plan to come down next weekend and I know that'll help too.

You're halfway through your tour! I'm impressed with everything you and the guys have done. I know you think the tour isn't the same without me, but please have fun. If this is your only shot, I don't want you to feel like you missed out.

Sending all my love from across the ocean,

Steve

P.S. Enjoy the little gift <3

He opens the envelope again and a polaroid falls out. Steve's wearing a black jockstrap, Eddie's cutoff Metallica shirt, and his hair is messed up like after they've fucked.

"Fuck," Eddie groans. He sets the photo down long enough to shuck his jeans off and send a quick thanks that Gareth is out at a bar. He grabs the photo again, and spits into his other hand. He slowly strokes his dick. He's not in a rush, but he knows he doesn't have time to stretch his hole.

They don't really do sexy outfits. The jockstrap is one of the few things they have, purchased after Eddie admitted that he had a locker room fantasy. Steve must have felt it was important to bring out the big guns.

Eddie gazes at Steve's bulge and the way the black straps frame his thighs. They're thick with muscle and he thinks about how Steve likes to squish his head with them when he's going down on Steve. Pre-come is leaking steadily, encouraging Eddie to go faster. The slick, wet sounds fill the room and Eddie adds his breathy pants to the mix. He wants to bury his head in Steve, whether his cock or ass, he isn't picky. He wants to fuck until their limbs are jelly.

But Steve isn't there, so he has to settle for his image. When he comes he pulls his dick away from the photo, not wanting to get come on it (just yet).

He sets the photo aside and takes big gulping breaths.

—

It continues like that for the rest of the tour. Roughly once a week Steve will send a letter with a photo (nudity sometimes included!). Eddie keeps up with writing his own letters, writing down horny fantasies that he hopes someday to fulfill. The guys tease him after they find one of the photos. Luckily it's one of the fully clothed ones, but it would serve them right if it was a full nude. They know the trip has been hard for Eddie and he can't fault them for a little teasing since they're just thrilled that Eddie feels more like himself.

After their last show, Eddie flops down on the bed. For their final night they splurged and got separate rooms and Eddie plans on using it to the fullest extent. He picks up the phone and carefully dials a number he knows by heart.

"Hello?" Steve says groggily.

"Hi, sweetheart," Eddie replies.

"Eddie!"

Eddie smiles, hearing the warmth in Steve's tone.

"We did it baby, the guys and I survived our first world tour."

"Congrats," Steve yawns.

"Anddddd. I have my own hotel room tonight. I know it's probably not the best time, but if you're in the mood…"

Steve groans. "Eddie, it's been months since we've really gotten to hear each other. Fuck yeah I'm in the mood."

Eddie pulls his boxers down and grabs his cock. "I've already got my dick out, so you better hurry up." He hears the phone drop and then a drawer open and shut.

"I've got lube and a dildo," Steve says eagerly.

"Oh, you wanna be dicked down tonight?"

"Please," Steve moans.

"Alright," Eddie adjusts his grip. He won't really do much until Steve has got the dildo in. "Use one finger, keep it a tease. Does your hole even remember what it's like to have anything in there?"

Steve snorts. "I fucked myself like last week. If anything, it forgets what's like to have your dick inside it."

Eddie squeezes his dick. Steve always looks so good when he's fucking. It's why he suggested the dildo tonight. He won't be able to see but he sure as hell will hear. "Fine, if it hasn't been that long why don't you use two."

"Sir yes, sir," Steve teases.

Eddie doesn't hear much more for a few minutes. Only some gasps from Steve and a squelch of lube.

"How are you doing?" Eddie asks. He's taken to slowly stroking his cock.

"Good. I think I can put the dildo in now."

"Whenever you're ready, let me know," Eddie replies.

It takes half a minute and then Eddie hears, "Ready," loud and clear.

"I know you can fuck yourself real well baby. But know, that if I was there I would be fucking you into the mattress, get your knees up by your chest." Eddie strokes his dick faster now. He wishes he could tell how fast Steve was going so he could match his pace. "It's been so long since we've fucked. Do you think you would last long or shoot off as soon as I sinked my dick into your hole?"

Steve whines. It sends a zip of desire through Eddie and makes a home in his lower half.

"What about you? You like this tight hole so much, do you think that as soon as you feel it around your dick you won't come?" Steve snarks back.

Eddie groans. Steve isn't wrong, he doesn't usually have the same stamina as Steve. If he plays dirty, it's all over for Eddie.

"Come on. Fuck me harder," Steve teases. "I know you can do it."

Eddie moves even faster, hips starting to hump the air. Steve's groans of his name sound farther away. He's probably set the phone down so he can use both hands. When Eddie comes, it's all over his stomach and chest. He takes big breaths of air and listens as Steve's heavy, sharp breaths mean he's coming.

"Was it worth it Steve?" Eddie finally says when their breathing gets back to normal.

Steve laughs. "Totally. I can't wait for you to come back."

Eddie rolls on his side. He'll regret it later when he finds the wet spot. Right now, he wants to pretend that he's curled up next to Steve. "I'll be back soon. I love you."

“Matty!”

Matty looks up to see Gareth charging down the corridor. He’s barely out of his seat before he’s been pulled into a bear hug.

“Congratulations, man!” Gareth pulls back with a final clap on Matty’s back. “Jeff's on his way. Eddie said it’s a girl? Really?”

“Really.” He walks Gareth to the window of the nursery and points at a swaddled baby in a tiny pink hat.

“Oh, man, look at her. Thank God she looks like her mother.”

“Hey!” Matt laughs. She looks like practically ever other baby in the nursery right now, but she’s beautiful and she’s theirs and he’s so happy.

“How’s Lil?”

“She’s good, fucking exhausted, but good. We’re gonna need help with the animals though.”

“Yeah of course, man,” Gareth says. “Steve and Eddie are on their way with them. Little fuckers are bouncing off the walls, I think Eddie’s pulling out the last of his hair.”

Yeah, he’s not surprised, he’s been living with those four little assholes for years, they’re a nightmare when they’re not hopped up on sugar, and there’s no way they haven’t spent the last twenty three hours eating absolute crap.  But fuck it, they’re Eddie’s problem for the next few days.

“You got a name yet?”

Matty sighs. “No. We had a list, but...I don’t know. Now she’s here, they don’t feel right. They don’t feel like…special enough. Does that sound stupid?”

Gareth gives him the fondest smile. “No, man, I don’t think that sounds stupid at all. She’s your little princess.”

Fuck, she is. He has a little princess now. He’s going to spend the rest of his life protecting her, keeping boys away from her, far, far away from her. Or girls. If she likes girls, then they’re not allowed anywhere near her either. 

But maybe one day someone will meet his impossibly high standards, and he’ll walk her down the aisle, and maybe she’ll have her own baby, and he’ll be a grandfather, and—

Jesus, what is he doing? She’s only two hours old.

“Yeah. She’s my little princess.”

They stand shoulder to shoulder, staring at his daughter, watching her sleep. He’s wet eyed and sniffly and he’s so happy. He can’t wait to take her back up to Lily.

“Rhiannon,” Gareth says. 

Matty gives him a confused frown. “Fleetwood Mac…?”

“No, I mean yeah, obviously, but no. It means queen. It’s Welsh. I don’t know a name that means princess. But queen is even better, right?”

“Rhiannon.” It’s perfect. His little queen. “Yeah, I love it. Lily will love it.” He throws an arm around Gareth’s shoulders and pulls him for a side hug. “You’re not just a pretty face.”

“Thank you for saying I’m pretty.”

They giggle like they’re schoolboys again, and not men entering their forties with families and mortgages and jobs they hate. Just a bunch of kids fucking around in a garage, playing their instruments badly, and laughing so hard they cry. He’s lucky to still have them in his life. Most people lose those friends, people drift and change, but not them. Fucking solid. Always.

“Dad!”

Nate comes running down the corridor to him, Dylan and Sean walking behind, both too cool for school, but he doesn’t miss their excited smiles. 

“Hey, little man,” he says scooping Nate up into his arms. 

Eddie and Steve are behind them, Joel fast asleep in Steve’s arms. That kid would sleep through the apocalypse.

He leads the boys to the window.

“Which one is mine?” Nate asks.

Matty points to his little girl.

There’s been a lot of change in three years. The kids have graduated, which, Jesus fucking Christ, how did that even happen? They’re off at college now, freshmen. Good for them. Steve would have graduated college by now if he’d been good enough to get in anywhere. A sobering thought that he quashes with another swig of brandy from the fancy little flask Eddie carries with him. And Steve’s the poseur, apparently.

“Ooh, turn that up.” Eddie’s fingers waggle at the stereo, inches from the dial, but the fucker would rather just get Steve to do his bidding. (Steve always does). “And give me that,” Eddie grabs the flask from him, “you’re driving.”

Steve leans forward and turns the radio up. “I’m not driving right now.”

“Hardy ha, Steven. Last thing you need is Callaghan out here waving his fruity little flashlight in your face.”

There’s no chance of that up here. The kids used to call it Weathertop, the highest point in Hawkins, somewhere that’s perfect to hide when you just want to run from the world.

No one really knows why they’re still in Hawkins, what the pull is after all these years, but there’s something. It’s over, but it never really feels that way, too many reminders of people they’ve lost dotted around town. Eddie looks like he’s going to puke every time he sees a cheerleader. But still they stay.

A new song starts on the radio, and Eddie screeches, “Off, off, off!”

“You know, you could just do this yourself,” but Steve still flicks the radio off, and they sit in the quiet of a summer night in Hawkins.

“Yes, but I like having a knight in shining armour to do these things for me.”

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“Thank you for noticing.”

They listen to the crickets and watch the shimmer of street lights from all across town, and Steve contemplates just how long he can keep up the premise of staying in Hawkins for others when he’s the one that’s too scared to leave. 

A rumble behind them announces the arrival of Eddie’s old van, safely in the ownership of a better driver. He can’t drive anymore, and even if he could, well Steve would still ferry him wherever he wanted to go. It’s a treat, doing things for Eddie. 

Jeff and Gareth climb out of the van, and wave lazily at Steve and Eddie. They’re nice guys, Steve likes them, not least because they look out for Eddie. They like to get a little bimmer therapy from time to time, too.

The rear doors open and they climb in, and the complaints begin: Gareth’s dad is up his ass all the time about college, and Jeff’s mom wants him to go back to church, and then there’s his job…and Steve let’s them talk themselves out. They’ll smoke weed, and pick through Steve’s tapes, and laugh a little before they head home.

“I love your car,” says Eddie, and Steve knows he doesn’t mean the metal and the leather.

It’s been good to them, their little hideaway on wheels.