This space is dedicated to my love of Stranger Things!
I do not consider myself a writer, and you won't find any long-form fics here, but I needed a space to dump all my Steddie brainworms.
All my blurbs will be tagged "Dreamer Speaks" and I will do my best to tag content warnings as "cw _____" That being said this blog will have NSFW 18+ content, so consider yourself warned.
If anyone feels inspired by something I write, feel free to use it and build off it however you like! Just let me know so I can see it π
Edit 2/2025: I have an Ao3 for my writing now! Check it out here!
Edit 10/2025: If you want to be a little freak with me, I post more NSFW stuff on bluesky @night-dreamer-now.bsky.social
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I love animal hybrid AUs but I don't think I'll ever write one but here are my HC for the Stranger Things cast as animal hybrids. This is mostly vibes based. PLEASE feel free to add on with your own. I want to know what others think.
Steve - Buck: The king of the forest, in my eyes. A literal crown of horns. Can come off as aloof and regal but is, also, ultimately a deer and is easily stressed and not that strong. I can see him losing a part of his antlers in the fight with Billy.
Dustin - Octopus: Notoriously smart, and the camouflage/stress response that would normally benefit him in the water makes him a fun target for bullies who like to try and get his skin to change colors. I also think it could translate to his congenital disease because his missing collar bones make him extra pliable.
El - Stoat: Very cute and sweet looking, but they are very violent and protective. Stoats need to be violent in order to survive, killing other animals for their burrows. Plus! Look at them! El looks like a little stoat!
Lucas - Mexican Jackrabbit: HEAR ME OUT! I don't know how to explain it but Lucas is a hare to me. Not in the evil, menacing way, but in the agility and distrustfulness (which I stand by as the only correct response during the first two seasons). He's a hare to me and people call him a bunny and he has to work twice as hard to be taken seriously when he joins sports even though he would be! perfect! for basketball!!
Mike - Tenrec (I'm imagining a lowland streaked tenrec, but it's really dealer's choice): A little guy with a lot of feelings. Prickly and uncommon in the Americas. Bullies like to try to feed him worms.
Robin - Red Squirrel: Robin with a bushy tail that twitches when she's nervous...swoon. Headcanon that she's a little burrower/collector. She's very clean but a little cluttered and likes to be in a place where she can see everything that's going on.
Nancy - Northern Hawk Owl: Nancy is so owl coded to me. She's smart, impulsive, and dangerous despite her appearance. Plus, the image of Nancy shooting a gun midair is sooooo hot.
Jonathan - Capybara: Pretty chill, unbothered, solid but unobtrusive bonds with kids. Simply, when I look at the capybara, I see a little stoned Johnathan. When I see a little capybara with a bigger capybara, I see Will.
Will - Guinea pig: Come on, they are pretty much the bowl cut of animals. Nervous, big eyes, cute, but will bite. Plus, related to the capybara.
Max - Painted Bat: Fairly isolated animals, as far as bats go. They brood in small groups of less than 10. I don't have a lot of reasoning for this, I just think it would be cool if Max was my favorite animal. I do think she got her wings clipped after she was born, something not uncommon but something she deeply resents both her parents for. She hates how they lay limp on her back, and Billy always made sure to bring it up.
Eddie - Possum: Stereotyped as being disgusting and generally looked down on, but really are pretty docile and good for the ecosystem. Little tail, little ears, takes care of children, will bite.
what if: high school steddie, where Eddie is all too aware of the social hierarchy of Hawkins High and his standing in itβthe lowest of the lowβversus a Steve who either doesn't know or doesn't care.
Eddie knows he's at the bottom of the food chain. Knows he's the first to eat shit when some jocks are hungering for some violence. Knows he's about as good as the dirt on their shoes, as far as they're concerned.
And at the top of that mountain, just about the other side of the world, really, is Steve Harrington. Steve "The Hair" Harrington. King Steve. Double Team Captain. Mister Harrington Charm.
They shouldn't EVER interact. It's against the laws of nature, or some shit, Eddie's sure.
Which is probably why it seems like the world's imploding when Steve "The Hair" HarringtonβMister Harrington Charm, Double Team Captain, whatever the fuck else Gareth has on his endless listβasks him to prom.
It's probably a good thing they're alone, in the middle of the woods, on opposite sides of Eddie's favorite deal-making table, so no one's around to hear him yell, "What the fuck?"
It echoes around the woods anyways, maybe louder than he meant to be, which is good, because it's definitely a 'what the fuck' moment.
They've literally never spoken before. Actually, they've done less than spokenβthey could live on opposite poles of the Earth, for all the interaction they've had. They don't share any classes. Hell, they don't even see each other in the halls.
And now Steve Harrington is staring at him like he's actually waiting for an answer.
Again: What the fuck?
A record scratches in his brain and yup, thereβs Harringtonβs voice again, smarmy little smile on his face, asking: βWill you go to prom with me?β
As in, Steve Harrington just asked, in this existence, in this reality, on this planet, for Eddie Munson to go to Hawkins High Senior Prom with him. For real.
For real?
No. No way.
Harringtonβs joking, Eddie knows. Figures the dayβd come he decides torturing Eddie is just as much fun as the rest of his shit-jock cronies made it out to be.
And then, suddenly, Eddie knows what it is. Has seen enough of those terrible movies on early-morning TV with Wayne. Has seen the same damn plot enough times to smell it coming from a mile away.
βYou know what,β he says, leaning into Harringtonβs space, too close, brimming with irritation and a disgusting desire to one-up the smug, cocky bastard, βYou get me a bouquet of roses as black as your twisted, festering soul, and Iβll wear a pretty little dress for you, too.β
Harringtonβs frown makes anger tighten Eddieβs jaw. βDo rosesβ¦ grow in black?β
βI guess thatβs for you to find out and for me to know, Harrington,β Eddie sneers. He gets up, snatches his lunchbox, and stalks back through the trees to school.
He throws a βfuck youβ over his shoulder when Harrington calls out βBennyβs at six?β but doesnβt turn around because the last thing he needs is to eat shit tripping over a goddamn branch. As it is, heβs already waiting for any of Harringtonβs little friends to appear out of the shadows and jump him. Thatβs how it goes, right?
Only, it doesnβt.
Thereβs no swirlies, no shoving into lockers, no missing clothes after gym, no brutal beatdown on late days after Hellfire. Eddieβs almost worried the meatheads have had too many concussions and forgot he was next on the hit list.
And then he realizesβoh. Oh no. Theyβre waiting for prom. Actual prom night to fucking flay him open on stage in front of the whole school or something equally psychotic. Drown him in the punch. Stomp him to death on the dance floor.
Clearly, they HAVE had too many concussions if they think Eddie would EVER show his face there. Fuck Harrington, and fuck his minions. Like Eddieβd make it that easy for them.
Except, in the days leading up to prom, weird things keep happening. And Eddie doesnβt know what to think about it.
Thereβs pudding at his spot at the head of the table. Once a week, because the cafeteria only has pudding once a week. Eddie loves cafeteria pudding.
Steve Harrington grins at him from across the goddamn cafeteria and Eddieβs gut curdles.
One of the Hellfire posters he puts up monthly (and is always shredded by first periodβs end) is still up a week later. Sure, torn and taped back together, but itβs not slush in a toilet, either.
Steve Harrington tells him that he looks nice when he finds him smoking just outside the school, and Eddieβs skin itches like he needs to tear it off.
Thereβs a flower on the driverβs seat of his van the day he forgets to close the window all the way, a day-old daisy with the petals stained a dark blue, the yellow center dulled.
Steve Harrington says heβs got a nice voice and heβs really good at playing the guitar and Eddie wonders how the hell he knows that.
One day, Harrington drops down to sit on the curb next to him, in the parking lot of the shitty little convenience store thatβs a five-minute walk from the trailer park. He passes over a pack of his fancy smokes and nabs one of Eddieβs cheap beers so they can drink and smoke together and neither of them say anything. Eddie wants to say itβs because he doesnβt want Harrington to realize exactly what heβs done and get his shit beer cans crushed over his head, but in truth, itβs because he canβt get a damn read on the guy.
Another, Harrington and Hargrove both come to school looking like theyβve been run over, then backed up over, and then run over again for good measure. Hargrove doesnβt haggle him for weed again, and Harrington still smiles at him from across the cafeteria like the pull of his cheek doesnβt make his broken nose and black eye smart.
Again: What the fuck?
He asks the guys. βWhat the hell is going on with Harrington?β
He doesnβt like how they look at him, mouths twisted and uncomfortable and unsure.
βHeard he and Hagan beat the shit out of each other a while ago. Havenβt talked since.β
Hagan. Not Hargrove. A while ago.
βDitched Carol P. and Stacy C., too.β
β¦
What the fuck?
β¦
The day of prom comes. Vaguely, Eddie remembers: Bennyβs at six. Yeah-fucking-right.
He doesnβt go. Doesnβt have a suit, anyway, and wouldnβt have gone even if he did. Obviously. He might be stupid, repeating senior year, but heβs not THAT stupid.
An hour later, the phone in the trailer rings. When he picks up, Gareth is on the other end of the line. Distantly, Eddie can hear the shitty pop that makes up the schoolβs prom mixtape.
βWhatβd Harringtonβs face look like?β he asks. βWas he pissed?β
βHe didnβt show,β Gareth admits. βI dunno, man, maybe he was being serious.β
Eddieβs laugh probably pisses off half the trailer park. He canβt hear Garethβs through the phone. βAre you kidding me?β
βDonβt kill the messenger.β
βMessenger might get me killed,β Eddie bites back, and then he hangs up. He hopes the punch is spiked and Gareth gets so drunk he falls asleep in a bush.
He grabs his keys off his nightstand and the trailer door slams behind him when he leaves.
Outside Bennyβs diner is dark, shadows over the parking lot, but Harringtonβs beamer is still there, clear as day. Maroon and hideous. God-fucking-damnit.
Harrington is in the driverβs seat, arms crossed over his chest as his head lolls back against his seat, half-asleep and definitely getting there. Heβs wearing a nice shirt and nice pants and his tie goes flying like a whip across his cheek when Eddie knocks his fist against the roof of the car.
βThe hellβs your damage, Harrington?β He barks, before the guy can even get his bearings.
Harrington fumbles, flailing limbs punch a short blare out of his horn, and his tie ends up over his shoulder.
βEddie, hi. Hi, Eddie.β Thereβs drool at the corner of his mouth. Eddieβs lips curl.
βWhat the hell are you doing?β he snaps again. Harringtonβs window is half-downβhe can definitely hear him.
βUm.β Harrington looks sheepish, now, doesnβt know what to do with his hands. βIt wasβBennyβs at seven. I was waiting for you. Didnβt mean to fall asleep.β
Eddieβs jaw tightens.
βIt was Bennyβs at seven, right? I thought it was Bennyβs at six, at first, but I canβt really keep dates straight up here, anymore,β he knocks against his head with a knuckle, βAll the pointless melon-splits of American sports, or whatever.β
Vaguely, Eddie remembers a long-winded rant on the top of a cafeteria table about the same subject.
βIt was at six,β he acknowledges. βI didnβt bother showing up.β
βOh.β Harringtonβs eyes drop, take in his pajama pants and his threadbare tee. βBut you did. Now.β
βYeah, well.β Eddie turns the words over. βCall it a lapse of judgment.β
Harrington nods. Heβs not looking at Eddie anymore. It sours something in his gut that he doesnβt acknowledge.
Eddie looks past him. In the passenger seat, a bouquet.
Of black roses.
Harringtonβs fingertips are stained a shade darker, black stuck underneath his nails.
What the actual fuck.
βWhat the hell was your plan here, Harrington?β
Harrington blinks up at him with those stupid big eyes that Eddie definitely, absolutely hates.
βDinner, and then, you know, prom? Isnβt that how is usually goes?β He asks, like Eddie would have any fucking clue.
Eddie grinds his teeth. βYou realize youβve wasted your only senior prom on this dumb joke, right? And I didnβt even fall for it? Way to have your priorities in order, King Steve.β
Harringtonβs face scrunches. Eddie bites his tongue.
βIβve had the misfortune of having two, and I didnβt subject myself to either. So you can cut the shitββ
βWait, hold on,β Harrington cuts him off. βIt wasnβtβwhat joke, Eddie?β
Oh. Oh no. If Garethβs right, heβs gonna have to throw himself from the quarry cliffs.
βYou know,β he spits, like it doesnβt affect him, that every last goddamn person in fucking Hawkins sees him as a freak, like a bug to torture and then squash, βLure me to prom. Dump a bucket of pigβs blood over my head or however that movie goes.β
HarringtonβHarrington looks horrified.
Well. The quarryβs always empty at seven in the evening.
βEven Iβm not that dumb, man.β He ignores how the words come out, slower, an edge of uncertainty.
βThatβs fucked up,β Harrington whispers, βThereβs a movie like that? I wouldnβtβthatβs not what Iββ
βYeah, I think Iβm starting to get that.β
Harringtonβs jaw shuts with a click, and theyβre both quiet for a minute. And then, like a curse he doesnβt want to say aloud lest he bring it to life, Eddie asks, βThat was you, wasnβt it? With the pudding and the posters and the flowers.β
βI broke Tommyβs nose when I caught him trying to let the air outta your tires, too,β he says, hollowly, like it doesnβt matter anymore.
Fuck.
Thereβs no one in the parking lot, and Eddie tells himself its the only reason he rounds the car and drops into the passenger side seat. The flowers are saved by Harringtonβs quick reflexes, and Eddie kind of wants to curse him out for having his doors unlocked.
βOkay.β He hypes himself up like heβs seen Harrington do in PE, a quick breath in and out. βI didnβt know you were being serious. I thought it was just a dumb joke.β
βYeah, I got that part.β
He twists his fingers together. βThose were for me, right?β
Harrington hums. Hands them over. βKinda makes it worse, but sure. Yeah, they were for you.β
βWorse?β
Harrington laughs, scrubs a hand over his face. βI thought itβd be funny. You said youβd wear a dress if I got you black flowers, but IβI didnβt mean it that way. I just wanted to get you flowers youβd like.β
Fuck. Eddie does remember that, now.
The stems are still thorny and prick at his fingers when he hold them. He likes them better that way.
βYouβve beenβ¦ practicing these,β he realizes. Remembers the little blue daisy.
βFirst ones came out a really gross kind of green,β Steve admits.
God fucking damn it.
βI donβt do prom,β Eddie says.
βYeah, I figured that one out,β Steve replies. Dry. Still isnβt looking over at Eddie.
βNo, I meanβI wouldnβt have gone even if Iβd thought you were being honest from the get-go. I donβt DO prom. Itβs the death of counter-culture and individuality.β
βI donβt know what that means.β
βWhat Iβm saying is,β he takes a deep breath, a little part of him still praying Steve wonβt punch his damn lights out, βIβm not gonna go to prom. Ever. Thatβs an invitation to douchebags like Hargrove and Hagan to split my skull open on the gym floor. I donβt want my last breath to be weeks-old jock socks.β
He ducks, tries to catch Steveβs gaze. Doesnβt manage. He ends up pressed against the dashboard like a moron.
βBut thereβs this bar I go to,β he continues, βIt doesnβt really check ID. I think theyβd go out of business if they did. They let us play on Tuesdays.β
βI know.β
He knows? Jesus fucking Christ. Maybe Eddie needs to buy the flowers. About six dozen. Fuck him.
His leg jostles, knocks against Steveβs door. He finally looks up.
βThatβs more my speed,β he admits, in a big rush. βItβsβ¦ probably better than prom as a first date, anyways.β
Steveβs eyebrows jump up into that famous hair, perfectly styled. Eddieβs is a mane of despair and hopelessness, wilder than a tornado.
βReally?β he asks, like Eddie didnβt just say heβd thought he was a piece of shit in seven different ways. βThatβsβyouβdβreally?β
βI mean, not right now,β Eddie scoffs, and Steveβs face drops. He hurries to amend, βIβm not really dressed for the occasion. But maybe, likeβ¦ tomorrow?β
βTomorrow,β Steve repeats, and Eddie flushes. βThatβs soon.β
βOr never,β he snaps, because heβs a goddamn moron, βThat works too.β
Steveβs grin splits his face and Eddie has to look back at the flowers in his lap. βTomorrowβs good,β he agrees, too easy.
βYeah, well,β he mutters, kicks the door open, probably leaves a scuff, but Steve doesnβt say a word. βBetter be.β
Steveβs still grinning as he gets out of the car, slams the door closed, rounds the side again. Heβs not scared of a gaggle of dipshits ready to jump him because theyβre not there. And heβs got a bouquet of black roses pressed to his chest.
βSee you then, Eddie,β Steve chirps, as Eddie climbs back into his own van, and EddieβEddie has to hide his smile behind a curtain of hair as he throws the piece of shit into reverse and backs out of Bennyβs diner.
β¦
He leaves the flowers on their tiny kitchen counter and the next morning, Wayneβs put them in a vase Eddie didnβt know they had, with water and that weird flower-food crap and everything.
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The man stops in front of Steve, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he looks Steve up and down. Steve continues to chew his gum, giving the man a bored look before blowing a bubble and letting it pop.
βUm, Iβm Eddie,β Eddie, apparently, places a hand on his own chest like thatβs explanation enough. βEddie Munson?βΒ
βHi, Eddie,β Steve swaps the gum from one side of his mouth to the other. βBadge for security clearance, please.βΒ
βI donβt have a badge, dude,β Eddie chuckles awkwardly. βBadges are for assistants and technicians. Iβm a performer. If I do have a badge, itβs likely in the green room. I'll tell you what, let me through and Iβll gladly hunt it down for you.β
Steve stops Eddie from moving forward by placing two finger tips on his sternum, gently pushing him back. He blows another bubble, holding back a grin as he watches Eddieβs eye twitch like he canβt believe Steveβs audacity.
βNo badge for security clearance, no entrance to the venue,β Steve explains flatly as he drops his hand away. βSorry dude, themβs the breaks.β
βBut Iβm a prefor-βΒ
βEven "performers" need badges to gain access backstage,β Steve uses his fingers to make air quotes before crossing his arms back over his chest. βPlease make your way down to the front entrance and take it up with the head office if you want.β
Eddie stands there, stunned before laughing with disbelief.
βBut IβmΒ Eddie,β Eddie throws his hands up. βThis is ridiculous, Iβm headlining this fucking show!βΒ Β
βAnd Iβm Steve,β Steve tilts his head to the side, widening his eyes and talking slowly like heβs speaking to someone particularly stupid. βSteve with security. Which means if you donβt have a badge for security clearance, I canβt let you in. Simple math, Eddie.β
βItβs obvious you donβt know this, and thatβs fine, but Iβm kind of a big deal around here,β Eddie squints at Steve, his smile sarcastic. βLike I said, Iβm headlining this show and I really need to get back there so I can get ready for the performance tonight. Surely youβve heard of the headliner for the show youβre working on since you take your job so seriously.β
βOf course,β Steve says, his face indifferent. βHis name is Kas. He plays with Corroded Coffin, who are all already backstage. I swiped their badges earlier. Nice guys.βΒ
βIΒ knowΒ theyβre nice guys, theyβreΒ myΒ band, and thatβsΒ myΒ stage name,β Eddie grits out. βWhich I would love to prove to you but you have to let me back there in order toΒ doΒ that.β
Steve doesnβt respond, continuing to chew his gum while Eddie scrubs at his face out of frustration.
βUnder different circumstances, this little bitchy indifference act would really work on me but as it stands I actually need to get back stage so I can do my fucking job.β
βNo badge, no-β
βYeah, yeah, yeah, I get it, thank you so much,β Eddie interrupts him, waving him off. βYouβre an immovable pillar of securital integrity, your parents must be very proud.β
Steve feels expression tighten slightly, not dignifying Eddie with a response as Eddie continues glares up at him.Β
βWho even added you onto the security team? I donβt remember seeing you before tonight,β Eddie squints at Steve suspiciously. βSee, I take pride in knowing everyone on my team. Itβs a courtesy thing.βΒ
βDustin Henderson added me tonight because someone called out sick and I owed him a favor,β Steve explains boredly, privately mourning the loss of flavor in his gum. Heβd have to grab a new stick as soon as he got rid of this persistent weirdo. βHeβs the head technician and an old friend of mine. Since itβs your team and you know everyone, why donβt you just give them a call and have someone grab your badge for you?β
βThat-β Eddie responds hotly, pointing a finger in Steveβs face before hesitating as soon as heβs taken in what Steveβs said. β-is a great idea, actually. Why the fuck didnβt I think of that?β
Steve quirks an eyebrow, continuing to chew his hardened, dull gum as he watches Eddie fish around in his pockets for his phone.Β
Eddie pats his front pockets and then the back ones, grumbling to himself as his eyebrows furrow. His expression turns frantic as he slaps his palms over the decorated vest heβs wearing. He checks the inner pockets of the vest before dropping his hands back down to his pants pockets again.
Steve swallows his gum and shifts his weight from one hip to the other, his eyebrow raising even higher as Eddie continues feeling around for a phone thatβs clearly not there.
β...Okay, so the thing is, I might have left my phone on-β
βLook, man,β Steve interrupts with a tired huff. βItβs clear that you really want to get back there so this band must mean a lot to you, which I can appreciate. But this is not the way to go about this. The Corroded Coffin guys seem like good dudes, Iβm sure theyβll make an appearance at the stage door tonight after the show if you wanted to get some merch signed. But my friends are working on this show and Iβm not going to let some random guy back there and potentially put people I care about in danger, okay?β
Eddieβs face falls from angry to sheepishly and guilty.
βOkay,β Eddie says with a tone of defeat. βOkay, that's fair. I have to hand it to you, youβre really good at your job, Steve. Normally, I would appreciate and commend you for but right now itβs kind of fucking up my whole evening.β
βSorry,β Steve says with a small shrug. βDustin would never let me hear the end of it if I messed this up for him. This job means the world to him.β
βYeah, heβs pretty good at it too. Donβt tell him I said that though, heβll turn into such a smug little bastard,β Eddie says with a forlorn sigh before his eyes widen with realization. βWait! Dustin! You said heβs your friend, right?β
βRight,β Steve raises an eyebrow.
βWhich means you have his phone number, right?βΒ
βRight,β Steve says again, his expression turning guarded. βIt would be weird if I didnβt. Itβs not like pen pals are super in these days.β
Eddie lets out a cackle of success, leaning into Steveβs space with a wide grin.
βLet me borrow your phone. Iβll call him andΒ proveΒ Iβm not some freak groupie,β Eddieβs eyes sparkle with glee and mischief.Β βThen would you let me backstage, Mister Doorkeep?β
βNo,β Steve moves subtly back, his face heating up at Eddieβs close proximity. βBecause you still wonβt have a badge I can scan. Maybe I would if Dustin came down here and confirmed it but-β
βThatβs fine, whatever works,β Eddie interrupts, holding his open hand out in front of him expectantly. βYour mobile device, if you would be so kind?β
Steve stares down at Eddieβs open palm, glancing back up at him with a doubtful grimace.Β
βCome on, big boy. I wonβt run off with it, I promise,β Eddie tilts his head to the side with a teasing grin. βBesides, even if I did you could probably catch me in, like, two seconds. Your thighs areΒ insane, by the way. Do you run track in your spare time?β
βNo, I coach a swim team for middle schoolers,β Steve says with an embarrassed frown. βAll the flirting in the world isnβt going to save you if you actually run off with my phone, though. I will tackle you to the ground the second I think youβre going to run for it, Iβm not kidding.β
βPromise, promises,β Eddie waggles his eyebrows as he watches Steve fetch his phone from his back pocket. βThanks, Doll. Youβre a life saver.βΒ
Steve grumbles under his breath as he watches Eddie type in a number, taking the free moment to fetch his pack of gum out of his pocket. Heβs unwrapping a new piece out of its foil when Eddie glances back over at him.
βEw, dude, did you swallow your gum?β Eddie asks, his nose scrunched up in distaste as the phone rings. βThatβs gross.β
βWell, Iβm not going to spit it on the ground,β Steve shoots him a look back, stuffing the new stick in his mouth. βThatβsΒ gross. Iβm not some kind of animal.βΒ
βThat gum is going to be in your stomach until you die, you know that right?β Eddie says with a haughty little shimmy of his shoulders. βThe coroner will have to pump it out of you someday.β
βWhat? No way, thatβs totally a myth-β
βDustin!β Eddie cheerfully interrupts Steve as someone picks up. βHey buddy, can you do me a favor? Tall, broad, and handsome here wonβt let me through the stage door without a badge. Will you come grab me?β
Steve watches as Eddie listens to whoever's on the other line.Β
βI told him that and he politely told me to fuck off,β Eddie glances over at Steve with a grin. βHe said he values the safety of his friends or something ridiculous like that. Yeah, heβs a real peach. How long do you think itβll be before youβre down here? I gotta make it to sound-β
Eddieβs interrupted by the door being yanked open behind Steve.
β-check.β Eddie finishes with a grin, hanging up the phone.
Dustin wheezes breathlessly behind Steve, leaning on the door frame with both arms.
βHoly shit, dude, did you run all the way down here from the sound booth?β Eddie hands his phone back to Steve who moves to the side so they can both stare at Dustin as he tries to catch his breath.
Dustin holds one hand out in front of him in the universal sign of βJust one moment pleaseβ as he pulls out an inhaler and squeezes it before breathing in deep.
βJesus, Dustin,β Steve says, rubbing his back with a concerned frown.Β
βIβve been looking for you-β Dustin grits out between wheezes. β-for anΒ hour.β
βDonβt look at me like that, no one told me we added security badges.β Eddie holds up his hands in mock defense.
βYeah, because youβdΒ loseΒ it and that would be another issue entirely.β Dustin glares up at him before snapping his gaze over to Steve. βAnd you!-β
βOh brother, here we go-β
β-What the hell is the matter with you?!β Dustin throws his hands above his head in disbelief.Β βHow could you not know what the lead singer of the band youβre working for looks like?βΒ
βWell, itβs not like I was shown pictures,β Steve huffs back, crossing his arms over his chest with a defensive glare. βThey told me no one without a badge can get in so I didnβt let anyone without a badge in. Sorry for doing my job.βΒ
Dustin groans, scrubbing at his face before moving out of the way and jabbing his finger down the hallway.
βYou, get to hair and make up-β Dustin glares at Eddie before turning to Steve. β-and you! Weβre having words later, so help me god.β
Steve rolls his eyes and turns away, mocking Dustin by repeating him under his breath with a high pitched voice. Eddie stares at him with enamored disbelief.
βHas anyone ever told you youβre perfect?β Eddie leans in close again, his smile growing as Steve looks at him with an annoyed frown. βNow that I can go, I almost want to stay.β
βLucky me,β Steve says flatly. βAnd yeah, people call me perfect all the time. Why, did you think you were special for saying so?β
βSteve!β Dustin stares at him with a look that could kill. βWhat the hell is wrong with you? Come on, Eddie, ignore him.β
Eddie bites his lower lip, staring at Steve for a long moment before holding out his palm expectantly in front of him.
β...What?β Steve shoots a look down at Eddieβs palm. βIβm not giving you any gum after you were so rude about it earlier. Go find your own.β
βI want your phone, Dove,β Eddie explains with a silky voice. βSo I can put my number in and call you after the show. I wanna tell you things thatβll make you think IβmΒ realΒ special.βΒ
βOh, youβre special, alright,β Steve scoffs but digs his phone out of his pocket to hand to Eddie anyway. βJust not the kind of special you think.β
βGod, youβre such a bitch,β Eddie says with a pleased little laugh as he types in his number. βWhat are your thoughts on marriage? Thereβs a chapel down the street.βΒ
βThatβs a synagogue,β Steve rolls his eyes as he takes his phone back. βIβm not Jewish. Are you?β
βNo, but it doesnβt matter,β Eddie leans in even closer, incredibly pleased to see blush taking over Steveβs face. βIβd marry you in a gas station parking lot, if youβd let me.β
βPromises, promises,β Steve says back, a light reminder of their flirting earlier. βDonβt you have a show to get to?βΒ
βWell, you told me I couldnβt get in without a badge,β Eddie grips the railing behind Steve with both hands, caging him in. βGuess Iβm stuck out here with you until that gets rectified, right?βΒ
βMm, I did say that didnβt I?β Steve looks down at Eddie through his lashes.
βYou sure did,β Eddie licks his lips and leans in closer. βDustin, will you be a dear and go grab that for me?β
βWhat? No, itβll take me, like, thirty minutes to find that stupid thing. Iβm not running around backstage just so you two can schmooze-β
βThanks, pal, youβre a real dear,β Eddie sing songs before reaching out and closing the door in Dustinβs face. βNow, what do you think we can get up to in thirty minutes before the little squirt gets back?βΒ
βCertainly not marriage,β Steve snorts. βThatβll take an hour, at least.βΒ
βHow about I tell you I want to get through that doorΒ realΒ bad-β Eddie walks his finger tips down Steveβs chest, stopping to tap lightly at his belt buckle. β-and thenΒ showΒ you all the things Iβd be willing to do to get through it.β
Steve cocks his head to the side with a look of indifference but Eddie can see how heavy his breathing has gotten.
βNo badge for security clearance, no entrance to the venue,β Steve says with a low voice, reaching out to tuck a loose curl behind Eddieβs ear.
βI was hoping youβd say that,β Eddie chuckles, his grin widening as the clinking sound of Steveβs belt buckle being undone.
Eddieβs out at a gay bar, sees the most gorgeous man heβs ever clapped eyes on nursing a half finished beer at an otherwise unoccupied table, and canβt resist offering to buy him a drink. The man looks at him with droopy hazel eyes, and he seemsβ¦ Well, he seems sad. But he smiles, and accepts, despite being so far out of Eddieβs league itβs ridiculous.
His name is Steve, newish in town and recently single. He catches Eddie noticing the tan line from a ring thatβs no longer on his finger and adds, βI was married. Iβmβ¦ not anymore.β (Eddie guesses it must have been a rough divorce.)
Steve is bisexual, he also mentions hastily with a faint blush that tells Eddie the attraction might actually mutual.
They chat for a few hours, comparing their early lives growing up in small towns (Steve in Indiana, Eddie in Colorado) and their current jobs (Steve works in an office doing something the only explains as βreally, really dull,β Eddie in a local community center organizing afterschool activities for local kids and DMing for a couple different youth DnD groups) and music tastes (neither of them are huge fans of whatβs playing in the bar). After a while, Steve admits that heβs in a rut.
βYou looking to change that, sweetheart?β Eddie asks, and part of him wants to jump up and down and punch the air at how smooth that came out holy shit. Because Steve smiles shyly back (itβs like the fucking sun coming out a from behind a cloud) and says that yeah, heβd like that.
Fast forward to next morning. Eddie wakes up drooling on a perfectly hairy chest and a pounding in his head that doesnβt actually hurt, itβs just loud. Knocking, he realizes eventually, and reluctantly hauls himself out of bed. Whoever it is at this unholy hour ofβ¦ uh, 10am, can just deal with the fact that heβs answering the door in his boxers, covered in hickies and scratch marks, and with bedhead so wild it makes him look several inches taller than he actually is.
Only to be informed by the woman at his door that she knows Steve is here because she tracked his phone to this location. βOh! Not like that,β she adds hastily when Eddieβs eyes go wide. βNo, Iβm not, like, a jealous girlfriend or anything, thatβd be weird, heβs like my sister. I meanβwell, itβs hard to explain. But, anyway, look, I know heβs been having a rough time since his wife died, and Iβm glad he found someone to, um, keep company with, heβs way too fucking picky if you ask meβItβs just, I really canβt afford the time off to keep babysitting right now, so if he could be, like, alive by the time school gets out, thatβd be goodβ¦?β
And oh god, Eddie is trying to absorb all that. Steve is a widower? Jesus H. Christ, at some point last night Eddie had moaned that whoever his ex was obviously hadnβt known what a good, perfect, wonderous thing they were giving up. Steve is picky, but picked him? Oh, thatβs giving him butterflies. Steve has a kid? Well, Eddie is good with kidsβ¦
Suddenly thereβs a groan behind him and Steve shuffles up to wrap an arm around Eddieβs torso in a loose but affectionate hug. βThanks a lot, Robin,β Steve complains, his voice still rough from sleep, βI hadnβt told him about the twins yet.β
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