“It’s like they were destined for an alternate dimension.”

Eddie's been working on this mixtape for a few weeks. Months, really. 

He needs the right songs, and that takes time. It'd be easier if he could pop down to the record store and buy all the new releases, the hot music and dub them that way, but, well — money. 

And there's the fact that the town still loathes him. Name cleared or not. It's easier to just lay low until the heat dies down.

If it ever dies down.

Eddie hits the record button. The play button goes down with it.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin. Gareth's standing behind him.

"Nothing," Eddie says, defensive. Curling in around the boombox. Like that's gonna hide that he's definitely doing something.

"Are you ripping this? This?"

Eddie can't reasonably explain why he's ripping a Don Johnson song off the radio. Not at all. So he doesn't even try.

"Why are you here?" Eddie asks. 

Gareth doesn't answer, flopping down on Eddie's bed. It's been hard to get used to the new mattress. He misses his old one. He misses a lot from before Spring Break. Things have changed, and he'll never be able to go back to before. It's a very distinct line in his life.

A rift.

Just like the ones that ripped through town. Only, this one was through his own life.

Eddie doesn't dig his hole any deeper. Just sits in silence, and when the song is over, he presses the button, and stops the recording. Hoping Gareth will just let this go.

Carefully sliding it out of the tape deck, and back into its case. 

He probably has fifteen or twenty minutes left worth of room. So, a handful of songs. Maybe he'll get this finished by the end of the year.

"Can I see it?" Gareth asks, holding out his hand.

"No," Eddie says, sliding it into his shirt pocket. There's nothing to see anyway. The tape, and the case, are both unmarked. Nobody would know what's on this tape except for him without listening to the whole thing.

Gareth pulls his hand back, making himself comfortable on Eddie's bed.

"It's for Steve, isn't it?"

The question hangs there, unanswered, until Jeff and Goodie bust into his room, shifting the focus.

Later, when they're alone again, Gareth taps Eddie on the chest with the back of his hand, ring clacking against the plastic tape case in his breast pocket.

"For what it's worth, I think he's on the same page."

Eddie ignores this statement, because it's too scary to contemplate that Gareth might be right.

Eddie holds onto the tape. Leaving room for one more song. Finishing it means he has to actually give it to Steve, and he's not sure he's prepared to do that. Even if Gareth seems to think Steve would be on board. 

Eddie isn't so sure.

The finished mixtape is in his pocket. Burning a hole, as they say. 

Another night of them bumming around, shuttling the kids all over town as winter hits. Steve keeps flipping the station. Looking for something. 

"There's nothing on," Steve says, and this is Eddie's window, but his heart is hammering against his chest. Fuck.

Steve surfs past 94.5 again, and Eddie pulls the tape out of his pocket.

"Here," he says, handing it over. Hand shaking, but he can blame that on the bats. Easy.

"I'm not in the mood for screaming," Steve says in a snit, and Eddie loves him. Bitch that he is. 

"It's not screaming. It's for you," Eddie says, screwing up every ounce of courage he's ever had. 

Steve shrugs, and takes the case. Sliding the tape out, popping it into his tape deck. There's a smidgen of Casey Kasem on the front, but Steve doesn't seem to mind, and when Addicted to Love comes he starts bobbing his head with it. 

It feels like a win to Eddie.

The next time he gets in Steve's car, the tape is still in the deck, Steve's said nothing, so Eddie says nothing. They're going to Indy, and with Robin in tow, Eddie's in the backseat. 

When the tape ends, Love Will Conquer All finishing it out, Robin screws up her face.

"Whichever girl made you this has got it bad for you," Robin spouts off.

Steve's eyes flick up to the rear view mirror. Eddie meets them for a second, then looks away. Like the landscaping to his right is suddenly mighty interesting.

Eddie was not prepared for the slamming on the brakes, and braces his hands against the back of Robin's seat as Steve abruptly pulls over to the side of the road.

Robin's screaming at Steve, and Eddie's about to have a nervous breakdown. Maybe he should run. 

He doesn't have time. 

Steve has yanked open the back door on the other side of the car, and is climbing in, sliding across the leather. Eddie is scrunched against the door, pinned, trapped, and Robin has turned around, looking over the headrest at the unprecedented spectacle unfolding, and this is not how this was supposed to go. Not at all.

"Eddie," Steve says. It's a full question, and Eddie nods. A quick short movement.

"Holy shit," Steve whispers, and then he's scooting closer, hands finding Eddie's face that's hidden behind his hair, turning him, lips pressing against Eddie's. 

Robin's making noise. Eddie can barely hear it with the blood rushing in his ears, but Steve's lips are warm, firm, and sure.

Gareth was right. Steve's on the same page.

"I'm gonna come," Eddie warns, and Steve pulls his hair harder, then releases him, sliding down his body smoothly, and wrapping his lips around the head of Eddie's cock.

That's all it takes, and Eddie comes.

Easily. Too easily.

He hasn't said a goddamn word, because he feels like if he does, that it will really be the beginning of the end with Steve.

And he's not ready.

Not yet.

Steve's leg is slung over his. He's fiddling with a die cast figurine he found on Eddie's nightstand. 

"You're coming faster," Steve says, and Eddie hears what he's not saying.

"Yeah," Eddie says, "must finally be getting some sensation back. Took long enough. Fucking bats."

"That's good," Steve says, but it doesn't sound like he thinks it's good.

Steve needs a project. Needs something, or someone, to fix. 

And if Eddie's not broken anymore? Then what? 

"Good job, your magic cock healed me. You should pat yourself on the back for a job well done." 

Steve laughs, but it sounds hollow. And a little sad. 

Steve's scarce. Eddie misses him. 

But Steve doesn't reach out, so Eddie doesn't either. 

He doesn't have a reason. 

His hair doesn't need to be cut, and his cock doesn't need the patience of a saint. 

Eddie hears from Robin that Steve's taking some girl he met to dinner tonight. 

It's fine. Eddie got ten years of friendship with a side of fucking. 

Steve's about to turn thirty. Eddie's sure he wants more out of his life than this slice of fucked up hell Eddie can offer. 

He definitely deserves more. 

The bedroom door creaks open, and Eddie sits up.

Steve's standing there in the doorway, hands clasped in front of him. Rubbing one with the other, like he's soothing himself. Like he isn't sure he should be here, even if he's always welcome. He knows that.

"I just needed to see you."

And Eddie doesn't really have time to decide how he's gonna deal with that, before Steve is on top of him, face buried in Eddie's neck.

His hand finds Eddie's, and he laces their fingers together, squeezing. Holding on for dear life, it seems. 

It feels like it did at first. Steve so desperate to hang onto anything, while Eddie was just the closest life raft. 

Eddie uses his free hand to rub Steve's back. Waiting for the next move, but there doesn't seem to be one. There's no grinding into him, no hard dick at all, just Steve breathing against his skin in warm puffs of air.

Snaking his hand under Steve's t-shirt, Eddie plays with the hair above the waistband of his jeans. It's soft, and his back is warm. Steve sighs, relaxing a little more to Eddie's touch. 

"Wanna talk about it?" Eddie asks.

They don't talk about their situation, but they do talk about everything else. 

Steve can tell him anything. 

Steve shakes his head and Eddie's not gonna make him. Instead, he just shifts, pressing his lips to Steve's rough cheek. His five o'clock shadow is scratchy.

Did he not shave before his date?

Steve sucks in a breath, "I can't. Not tonight."

Eddie pulls back, and slides his hand further up Steve's back.

"I can't be in charge of anything or anyone," Steve murmurs, and Eddie scratches his blunt nails against Steve's warm skin. "Not even you. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to do anything for me," Eddie says, "you can just lay here."

And Steve squeezes his hand harder.

"Can I do anything for you?" Eddie asks, and Steve's breath hitches. He pulls his face away, and looks in Eddie's eyes. Like he's searching. Or asking permission. Eddie doesn't know which. 

Eddie pulls his hand from beneath Steve's shirt, and lightly touches the side of his face, "What do you need?"

Steve closes the distance, and slides his lips along Eddie's. It's soft, chaste, and nothing like what they usually do together.

Eddie kisses him back. 

And they keep it up until Eddie feels flush, beard burn heating up his face. 

He pulls back, chuckling. 

Steve licks his lips, and Eddie smiles at him. 

"I couldn't go tonight. You've broken me." 

Eddie's smile falls, and Steve just squeezes his hand harder. 

"In a good way. I just want you. Any way you'll have me, but preferably for real."

Real. Eddie wants real. 

Steve continues. "It's always felt real, even if you've kept me at arm's length. Even if you have all these rules on how I get to touch you." 

Eddie swallows the lump that's in his throat. 

"Even if you did everything you could to keep me from loving you. It was impossible. But I pretended. Until you still cut me loose." 

Eddie squeezes Steve's hand this time. 

"I didn't mean to cut you loose, I thought you wanted to go."

Steve laughs, but he's not happy, "I've never wanted to go. Even if we're not compatible. Even if I wanna get fucked, at least sometimes. Even if I want to go slow, and soft, and hold your hand, at least sometimes, too."

"You can do all that," Eddie says. 

"I want you to know I love you, and that scares me, because nobody wants me to love them." 

Eddie nods along, "I want you to love me, because I've loved you for years and didn't know how to change what we were."

Steve laughs, this time it's a bright sound. A giggle. 

"I'm gonna tie you up and kiss you all over." 

"Promises, promises," Eddie says, pressing forward, kissing him again.

It's a good place to start. 

“What?” The word didn't quite fully form, a confused exhale as Steve's brow furrowed, trying to process the confession, the denial of the initial spontaneity, the admission that he had lied about going to book the venue, “but you–” he cut himself off, he couldn't be mad at that surely, not when he knew how Eddie got about him, but it could still confuse him.

“You know what tonight was,” Eddie sighed, lips suddenly downturned, jaw tight as the muscle beneath his scarred cheek jumped, “I got tired, man, of falling asleep dreaming of bats.” Steve's heart ached at that,

“You never said…” he squeezed Eddie’s fingers lightly,

“Didn't know how to, after so long, it seemed ridiculous to try, hey Stevie? I’ve been having nightmares about being eaten alive on the anniversary of it happening every year since our son was born, just thought you should know,” he intoned in a gentle mockery of himself, “y’know? Something I should've brought up sooner if it was bugging me, so I never did…” he shrugged then, “but that's not really the point,”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to chase away the sense of guilt he felt for never noticing, for never waking up and comforting Eddie through something so hard.

God only knows how often Eddie has held him through the Fourth of July, when fireworks reminded him of fleshy monstrocities and Billy Hargrove, helping him call Robin to make sure she was okay when he woke up in a cold sweat crying that he worked at Scoops Ahoy, we both do, stop hurting her.

“You always held me through it,” Eddie noted, reading Steve so easily, “that was always enough, waking up to the shift of blankets as you moved closer in your sleep, drawing me in tight even though you felt like a furnace, like me clinging to you, wrapping you up like a sweaty squid, would be uncomfortable for you.” he gave a sad smile, sniffing once and casting his gaze down at their interlinked fingers.

“Since Ronnie, though? Why?” Steve squeezed again, sending a pulse of affection, concern through their point of contact.

“I think because he's mine," Eddie shrugged, “like I’ve been scared shitless this whole time that whatever those things put in me might end up in him… He got so sick as a baby… all the time…” he gave an uncomfortable shrug, “but it’s been fourteen years and he hasn't sprouted wings or developed mutant powers, or he hasn't told us he has,” Eddie added with a wry, forced smirk, “so I figure we’re out of the woods there,”

Steve wanted to reassure him, to remind him of the medical tests they’d gone through after Vecna’s death, that aside from the obvious they had come out of it unscathed, no hidden ailments added to the slew Steve already had, no strange scarring to Eddie's lungs the way Steve, the Hoppers, and the kids had from the tunnels, no mutant bat rabies, but the way Eddie was smiling at him, he already knew.

“But that's not really the point,” Eddie repeated, “the point is, I’m tired of that being all I can think about when Spring Break rolls around,” he flicked his gaze down to their hands, twitching a black nailed finger into drumming some vague beat, “all death and lynch mobs, bats and misery,” he sighed, a hint of a shyer smile starting to play at his lips,

“I want to dream of something happy, something beautiful,” his eyes crinkled as his smile spread, darkness twinkling with adoration that made Steve’s stomach flip like he was twenty and just figuring all this out again in the basement beneath a radio station. “Something huge,” his warmth turned to mischief, a flickering moment where his smile turned into a grin and his eyebrows jumped slyly, eyes looking pointedly through the table at Steve’s lap, “something else huge,” he added as Steve scoffed to cover his laugh.

“And that, that is the point,” Eddie’s smile softened again and he withdrew his hand, chair scraping lightly on the wood flooring as he pushed it back and shifted to the edge of it, a hush seemed to settle over the restaurant and Steve watched, puzzled, as Eddie set his palm on the tablecloth and eased himself off of his seat. “Give me–fuck–just a sec.” he let out a grunt as he misjudged, knee hitting the floor with a thud,

“Ed, your knee,” Steve warned, ”careful…” he shifted forward to haul Eddie back to his feet, pausing when Eddie held up a hand, no, before scooting close enough to rest his hand on Steve’s knee. Eddie managed to get his right foot under himself without wobbling again, settling onto one knee like–”What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Steven Leigh Harrington?” Eddie asked, pressing Steve’s full name into the air with such holy reverence, peering up at him doe-eyed and almost breathless in his awe, or maybe it was because he was pushing fifty and just got down on his bad knee, the idiot.

“I have had the biggest crush on you since I was fifteen years old,” Eddie started, “When I heard the most obnoxious donkey laugh from across the hall, complete with a dumb little snort, and turned to see you, flipping your perfect hair for some girl and giving her that cocksure little wink with the goofy smile,”

“I saw you and I thought to myself, shit,” a laugh bubbled out of Steve at that and he had to press his hand over his mouth, nodding for Eddie to continue. “And sure, my crush was put through the goddamn ringer when you pantsed me in front of the cheerleading squad–on three separate occasions, by the way–and that time you retaliated to my attempt at petty Yoohoo theft by pouring it on the floor and sticking my face in it,”

Jesus Christ, Steve’s cheeks burned in shame, but Eddie looked thrilled, impishness shimmering in his eyes and crinkling his features,

“but you changed, you turned out to actually be a good dude, takes one hell of a man to do that,” the bounce of one eyebrow had Steve shaking his head, biting his lip behind his hand because he knew exactly what Eddie was implying under his sweet words, “You’ve saved my life more than you know, and I’m pretty sure I saved yours once or twice, too,” he had, probably half a dozen times, probably more,

“We fought monsters together, baby, you ripped a demonic bat apart with your teeth,” he whispered, flashing his own teeth in a grin as his eyebrows jumped, crazy times implied, “I think that’s when I fell for you hard, and Jesus H Christ man, the way you looked at me? You’ve looked at me like that thousands of times since–I swear I’ve counted–and almost every one has resulted in you kissing me stupid. I was a fucking idiot pointing you at Wheeler,” he lamented, “I want you to look at me like that forever,” he sighed, tucking a hand inside his leather jacket,

“We have had 24 wonderful years together–28 if you ignore my stupid ass leaving Hawkins without you–full of love, adventures, and amazing sex,” he winked as Steve lifted an eyebrow smugly, “We’ve made a house a home in fuckin Minnesota of all places, we’ve raised two beautiful children, and now, at long last, the government has finally caught up and realised that us being together isn't a goddamn war crime,” he spoke louder, clearer, but there was an anxious wobble to his voice as he withdrew a green velvet box, a heart shape but with leaf veins carved into its lid, presenting it to Steve and flicking it open to reveal the shimmering white gold ring nestled within black velvet.

“So, what I’m trying to say, what I’m trying to ask in a way that’ll embarrass you for the next thirty years of our life together, is will you marry me?”

It was insane that this was happening now, Steve had spent the past month scrawling You are Cordially Invited To The Wedding of Eddie and Steve Munson-Harrington Harrington-Munson in his work diary like a smitten teenager, rapidly filling the larger notes pages at the back with proposal plans like flowers, outfits, the kind of ring he thought Eddie might like–and the chain he might need for it if his injury was an issue–and most importantly, the words he wanted to get down on one knee and say to Eddie.

And now Eddie was on one knee asking him.

Waiting nervously for an answer Steve still hadn’t given.

“Shi–Yes!” he let out suddenly, “Yes, of course, yes, oh my god, Ed!” Steve gushed through his fingers, realising after a moment of listening to the polite, enthusiastic clapping of the other diners that he needed to give Eddie his hand, which was shaking when he finally held it out. Eddie was grinning, toothy and with his tongue curled out against his bottom lip as he focussed shining eyes on Steve’s hand, easing the ring from the box and sliding it effortlessly onto Steve’s finger.

Steve lifted his hand to look at the ring properly, the shape was a simple white gold band with rounded edges, but it had a subtle faceted white gem embedded in it, separating engraved curling lettering, it was beautiful. He said as much as he touched his ringed hand to Eddie’s cheek, cupping his jaw and dipping down to meet Eddie half way in a kiss. It was a soft and tender brush of lips, one Steve would have deepened, but Eddie’s fingers bit into his thighs like he was straining, and the moment they parted he sank back down onto his knee with a grunt.

“You’re such a nerd,” Steve muttered quietly, but it was a soft blow given he recognised at the very least that this wasn’t a replica of the ring from the movies, that Eddie had translated something else into some elf language for their wedding bands. “What does it mean?”

“That our love is eternal,” Eddie was still grinning at him, drumming his fingers against Steve’s knee as Steve admired the way his hand looked against Eddie’s smooth cheek now there was a ring gracing his finger, “that we’ll go to Valinor together some day.”

“The elf place?” he asked quietly, 

“Yes babe, the elf place.”

“Are we even allowed there?” he asked, unable to stop the smile tickling at the corners of his mouth as Eddie’s face lit up in realisation,