Hbyrde

Summary:

It’s the summer of 1985, and Robin's stuck working at a minimum wage job that she hates with a guy she hates even more. But when she discovers that Harrington is actually pretty good at working his charm on non-teenaged customers and earning them higher tips, she hatches a plan.

Suddenly they're working as a team. They’re both trying to save up as much as they can to get out of Hawkins, and Robin finds herself learning more about the guy she’s been so comfortable hating.

Along the way Robin starts to open up and learn that she can be charming too.

Fic

A snippet from 💎 (this one I have had gestating in my tumblr drafts for a few weeks, being written line by excruciating line after I got the image of Steve munching on a Peanut Butter Bopper while glowering at his mother from a distance about something lol)

Eddie tiptoes forward, sidling up to his boyfriend, ever curious. "Steve, what are you doing?" Steve takes another bite of his treat and sighs. "Stress eating." Despite mumbling through the side of his mouth, Steve still manages to convey that bitchy lilt. "I see..." Eddie moves to step closer, hopefully spot whatever has earned Steve's ire. But the reflection of the morning sun offers nothing but a sharp sting as it obscures his view into Gino's Pizzeria. "What's got your jeans in a twist?" "My mom is in there," Steve huffs, "Flirting with Gino."

Tags (ooof, i haven't done this in a hot minute!): @hbyrde36 @kikidoesfanfic @shelleyminx @augustjustice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

He was cherished by Harrington Sr. with nothing less than an iron fist for any one of the Brood who also looked upon Steve with desire.

The name Harrington was a mark. It was ownership. Whatever tribes or kingdoms they had belonged to before, whatever names they had worn proudly or disdainfully, no longer mattered. They belonged to the patriarch of the Brood now, with that name.

By the time Steve had been told he was to leave Ireland behind forever and travel to the New World with the Brood, he had already watched Cromwell’s blade strike from England, tearing through the people of his small rural village and beyond like they were nothing more than an inconvenience.

Those that had managed to survive had either fled, or become playthings of the Brood.

Steve had forgotten what it was like to smile because he was happy, not just because his sire demanded it.

He had forgotten what it was like to enjoy, to want, to live despite the fact that it had been years since he had drawn breath.

It was 1688.

The Brood had settled in Pennsylvania.

Despite the dull nothingness that pervaded Steve’s life, that lived in his veins, that told him to keep his head down and any feeling locked away, he was still glad to see that not everyone here thought like him.

The Treaty of Shackamaxon kept hope alive in the human settlement they lived on the outskirts of. It kept the blood happy and bright.

Steve had never been prepared for it.

Or to be more accurate, Steve had not been prepared for him.

Steve had been wandering through the streets, people watching.

He was not hunting, he was just… observing.

It hadn’t been that long ago he had been one of these humans.

But looking at them now, they all seemed so strange.

Like a reflection of himself in a warped mirror.

They were too warm, too loud, too alive. They moved through the muddy streets with passion and intent and purpose and worry. They carried small fleeting joys and stresses that all seemed so fragile. They all burned so quickly and so bright and none seemed to comprehend just how short their lives actually were.

Steve moved through and around them, almost invisible to them, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

He was in a phase of time with his sire where he had been discarded. It happened once or twice a year.

Harrington Sr. had found a new toy to play with and while Steve was still off limits to everyone else, he was also forgotten for a time by his sire.

But the new toy would eventually be tired of and Steve would find himself sitting at the knee of his sire again.

It usually didn’t last long, a few weeks at most.

But during those few weeks, Steve was free.

Harrington Sr. didn’t really care where he went or what he did, his attention was too diverted.

Which allowed Steve his current freedom.

He had already allowed himself a leisurly stroll through the one main road of the town. He wasn’t a stranger here, he’d been seen on the outskirts with his unusual family, as the humans called them, but he was still a slightly uncommon sight.

Steve didn’t mind their looks.

He had just come to the end of the road and was preparing to turn back, head home, to his misery and loneliness when a voice carried over on the wind.

A low voice, deep and soothing.

The voice was singing something in a language Steve didn’t understand.

He was moving before he’d even registered what was happening.

Along the edge of the settlement, at the opposite side the Harringtons resided, was a log cabin, squat and wide, built with oak, chinked with white clay and small stones, wooden roof slats and smoke billowing out of a chimney, barely peeking up over the top of the home.

Something must be cooking.

Steve was sure it would have smelled divine if he had still cared much about such things.

Outside on a hand hewn bench sat a man, who looked like he could be Steve’s age. Or at least the age Steve had been when he had begun this second life.

He had dark curls, sitting unruly and improper down to his shoulders, catching the late evening light as he tilted his head slightly. His deep dark eyes were focused on the mess of cloth in his hand, needle and thread rhythmically moving in, through and out as a large patch was slowly adhered over a ragged tear.

His bottom lip was bitten into, teeth indenting the plump flesh in an almost obscene manner.

There was something completely unguarded about him. Something bright and beautiful that had refused to bend to the harshness of the world.

Steve spoke before he thought it best not to.

“What language is that?”

He asked the question as Béarla, curiosity oozing out of him, hoping beyond hope this man spoke it as well. Though every time he used the language, something ugly twisted in his gut. Unfortunately, in this New World where every second person spoke a different tongue, English had become the communal language.

The man startled, looked up, dark eyes wide with surprise before a slow and horrifyingly charming grin slipped over his lips.

“Svenska, sötnos.” He lowered his sewing to his lap, his head tilting a little as he took all of Steve in. “What accent is yours?”

“Gaeilge.”

“Hm.” The sewing was moved onto the bench and the man stood, only a few steps taken up his dirt path and he was in front of Steve, of a height with him and eyes so dark and deep, even more so up close, Steve was lost. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Irish. Éire. Ireland.”

“Oh.” The man grinned, eyes roaming over Steve’s face, drinking him up. “I don’t know anything of Ireland. But I’d happily let you tell me.” His own accent was thick, stumbling with difficulty around the English words, similar but different to how Steve was also stumbling.

“What’s Svenska?” Steve asked, his voice steadily lowering with the setting sun and their increased closeness.

“Swedish, darling boy. Know anything of it?” The mans grin was magnetic, completely enrapturing. Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Nothing.”

“Would you like to?”

Steve should leave.

He should turn around and never look back.

This was dangerous.

The way this man was looking at him was dangerous, the way Steve’s once alive heart was responding was dangerous.

The way Steve knew deep down in his bones that he would not be leaving was dangerous.

“Yes.” Steve answered, almost on a whisper.

The man placed his hand on Steve’s bicep. The feeling seared through him like a brand, hot and dangerous again, but nothing like how Steve had previously been branded.

“It’s dark out.” The man said, gesturing back to his log cabin, lit up with a warm yellow glow on the inside. “Too dangerous to be out at night.” It was true the way back that Steve had come was now an all consuming dark. Light sucked up by the woods and the night sky, the moon barely providing light to see by and the few scattered lanterns from inside people’s homes doing nothing to beat it back.

“You should stay. At least until daylight. Safer that way.”

The night was not dangerous to Steve.

He would have been able to make his way home silently with his eyes closed.

But none of that stopped him from bringing a hand up, to gently brush a curl away from the mans face and responding with a smile of his own.

“Okay.”

Steve learned many things that night.

He learned that the enchanting man’s name was Eddie. He had come to the New World alone after the death of his mother in his homeland.

He learned that Eddie traded his skills rather than coin more often than not.

Mending, tailoring, small repairs. Or large laborious tasks that left his hands hard, scarred and calloused. Hewing logs, chopping trees, hauling timber with a determined stubbornness that seemed to live within his very bones. In return, he received eggs, meat, tools, sometimes nothing more than goodwill and a promise.

There was nothing delicate about Eddie Munson. He was brash, opinionated, stubborn, hard headed and so passionate.

And even so, he handled things gently.

The cloth he was sewing, the fire he was stoking, the strange and small creatures of this land that occasionally found their way inside his home.

He did not crush what was fragile.

He protected it.

He learned that Eddie did not look away.

Not when Steve stilled too long. Not when something in his expression slipped, just for a moment, into something colder. Stranger.

Eddie noticed.

Steve knew he did.

But he did not recoil.

And he did not press.

He learned that Eddie was not unfamiliar with strange creatures that lived outside humanity. According to him, his homeland was full of them. In the forests, in the lakes, in the mountains.

He didn’t know what Steve was.

But he wasn’t scared of him.

And then…

He learned that Eddie tasted like blackberries.

The touch of Eddie’s lips to his shocked something so deep and so primal in him, it almost felt like his heart had started beating again.

Like something long dead inside him had remembered what it was to want, to feel, to exist beyond survival. To be more than an object. But to be his own person who felt those things in return too.

It was intoxicating, it was invigorating.

And it was so, so dangerous.

They did not get long.

Barely a few months, but long enough for a deep and unshakable love to settle in Steve’s heart, grow roots, hold firm and never be moved.

Harrington Sr. found out.

Because of course he did.

Steve had gotten sloppy.

Careless.

He’d hesitated one too many times before coming to rest at his sire’s side.

He’d smiled when there was no need to, but he couldn’t help it.

Eddie lived in his thoughts constantly and Steve was unable to stop the way he made him feel.

He should have seen it coming.

He wouldn’t know it until later, but he had been followed that last time.

It was afterwards, when Steve had been leaving, that he had been set upon.

He had been incandescently happy, something dangerously close to light spilling through him, his chest full in a way that felt unfamiliar and overwhelming all at once.

His guard was down.

He did not hear them approach.

Did not sense them until it was far too late.

The hands of his Broodmates clamped around his arms and his mouth.

Much like when he had his living life taken from him all those years ago, Steve froze up at the sound of Eddie.

Eddie shouting.

Loud.

Furious.

Alive.

The sound tore through the night, sharp and unrestrained, echoing off the trees and the cabin walls. Steve’s head jerked, instinct dragging his gaze toward him despite the hands holding him fast.

Eddie was pulled fighting outside of the warmth of his cabin.

Kicking, twisting, growling like something feral and unafraid, raising holy hell as he tried to break free of the two that held him.

Steve felt terror clog his throat, his fingertips tingled with numb fear, his eyes began to sting, his body flashing ice cold in an instant.

It was useless.

Eddie’s fire, fighting back.

It was completely useless.

Eddie’s boots connected with shins and his captors didn’t flinch, barely feeling it.

He tried to pull himself free with sudden wrenching force, left, then right.

But his arms were held tight, out wide at either side of him.

“Vad i helvete är det här? Släpp mig, era idioter! Vilka i helvete tror ni att ni är?” He spat, teeth bared in a snarl that faltered the minute he caught sight of Steve.

“Stevie?” He said, almost shocked, taking everything in and then kicking out again with renewed vigour. “Sötnos! Steve! Get your hands of him!”

Steve could only shake his head, barely able to see what was in front of him though his blurred vision.

They'd never let him go. It was foolish of him to dream, to hope, to even think that he could have something outside his Brood. Something bright and beautiful of his own.

He’d been so fucking foolish.

All for a hope and a dream of love.

And look at where Steve’s foolishness had led them.

Something around the Brood circle shifted.

A ripple of energy.

And it only took Steve a second to recognise why.

“Steven, darling pet.” Came that awful sharp voice. “You’ve grown selfish. Did you pick a meal for yourself without my permission?”

“No.” Steve shook his head so vigorously, he rocked his captors on either side of him, his tears being flung from his eyes by the movement.

“No… that’s not- No, I wasn’t-” Steve babbled, almost frantic. “Don't hurt him, please.” He leaned forward as much as he could, wide imploring eyes on Harrington Sr. Hoping, praying that if he could inspire just this one instance of sympathy…

Steve would do anything in his power to stop what he knew was about to happen from happening. Even if that meant turning the big baby doe eyes on, up at Harrington Sr. despite the shiver it sent through him.

“I'll come back with you. I’ll never leave your side again, I promise. Just please let him go.”

He could hear Eddie kicking and screaming in front of him, trying to wrench himself free, trying to understand just what Steve was trying to say but it was all muffled.

To Steve, it was all fading into the background, all of his energy focusing on his sire, trying to get him to relent, even though it was a fools errand.

Eddie was brought back into sharp relief, however, when Harrington Sr. gave Steve a sad, condescending shake of the head and slowly circled his way around, until he was standing behind him, a long bony hand running through dark curls.

“Oh Steven.” He hissed out, fist tightening unforgiving and harsh when Eddie tried to wrench his head away, still spitting and fighting. “We're way past that. What you have done, cannot be undone. You have betrayed your Brood.” With an extremely harsh pull, Harrington Sr. dragged Eddie’s head to the side and pulling him upwards until they were standing, one in front of the other, one hand in Eddie’s hair, another around his waist, almost in an embrace.

“An example must be made.”

In a flash, he had sunk large, cruel sharp teeth into Eddie’s neck, messy and deliberately painful, blood spurting out, coating the two of them.

Eddie froze up in pain, his entire body going rigid, unable to even allow a cry of pain out before the strength began to leave him.

His once pale skin became even paler, his eyes, which had held Steve’s, almost imploringly telling him all would be okay, had now begun to roll, only until the whites were visible, his body was slackening and Steve was screaming.

An animalistic howl, a wounded creature, begging his sire to stop, begging the others of his Brood to step in, to help, to do something.

But none of them moved.

This viciousness…

This spectacle.

It wasn’t unheard of.

Harrington Sr. raised his head, mouth coated with blood.

Eddie stayed limp and still in his gasp, grey and… lifeless.

Steve could only stare, his cheeks wet, his chest heaving, eyes following in shock as, Eddie’s body was unceremoniously tossed, thrown behind like a limp ragdoll, to one of the lower of the Brood, a sad eyed bald man who stumbled from shock, but caught him still, and held him delicately.

“Get rid of that.” Harrington Sr. snapped back at him, loosening a silk and lace handkerchief from his pocket and beginning to delicately dab away at the blood around his mouth, dark red seeping into snow white lace.

The bald man swallowed, arms tightening instinctively around Eddie’s limp body. For a moment, just a moment, he hesitated. Steve was too far gone to understand why, he didn’t care, he wasn’t sure he was even capable of caring anymore.

Something in him had…

Snapped.

Clean through.

The mans eyes flickered down to Eddie’s slack face in his grasp, to the blood still seeping sluggishly from the torn throat, to the curls matted dark and wet.

“Yes, sir,” he nodded quietly.

Steve watched, almost stone still, his body was dead to him, his mind was broken and he could barely hear anything around him.

He watched Eddie’s body carried away, out of sight, to somewhere else, he didn’t know where.

Steve continued to stare after him, long after he couldn’t see him anymore, unaware of anything else going on around him.

A hand grabbed his chin and wrenched his head around.

“Are you listening to me, you insolent little child?”

The words were spat into his face by the man Steve had once feared.

But Steve was different now.

He was barely Steve anymore.

He was now just a cold hard shell of something in a humanoid shape.

He looked up at his sire, eyes dead and emotionless.

What followed next, Steve couldn’t exactly say.

He didn’t really remember it.

It was all hazy and distorted.

But he remembered moments.

Almost like picture snapshots.

He remembered his Broodmates howling in shock.

He remembered the overpowering scent of blood drowning the ground below.

He remembered the feeling of his teeth, his nails, his fingers tearing into flesh.

He remembered the long silver of Harrington Sr.’s hair, tied neatly back with a velvet ribbon, cascading across the bloody grass below. Head on one end of the grass, the rest of him on the other.

There were body parts too.

Too many to belong to one person.

Arms, heads, legs, torsos.

All scattered around like sown seeds.

When all was said and done, only three from the Brood still stood in front of him.

Steve, inadvertently, by attacking the head of the Brood, had challenged him for authority.

And won.

But he didn’t care.

The rest of the Brood could throw themselves onto a fire for all he cared.

The only thing in his entire life that he had ever cared about was dead now.

The Harrington name could die with him.

But then a thought came, as he slowly crossed the garden into Eddie’s log cabin, plucking his clothes from the small chest at the end of the bed, his mind almost detached from his body, his heart, shrivelled up and cold.

He thought that his sire would despise nothing more than the Harrington name living on, Broodless, destitute and humiliated. Attached to someone he had seen as nothing more than a plaything.

Steve would keep the name.

It was his right now, but he would not use it.

He would allow it to fall into obscurity.

He would wear it only as a reminder to himself of what had happened on this day.

Steve walked back through the village, blood dripping from him, following his every step.

The villagers closed their doors and windows, crossed themselves as he passed, but he didn’t give them a glance in return.

He didn’t care about them.

The river was his only objective.

Wash the blood of the Brood away before he dressed himself in Eddie’s clothes.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since Eddie’s body had left his sight.

It was too late at this stage anyway.

Eddie was gone.

He couldn’t be brought back.

Steve would never see him again.

The streets were damp, the smell of wet pavement scattering up from the ground as the rain fell.

Steve and Robin should probably get back home soon, or they would have to pretend to be sick in a few days from the damp.

“At least that would provide us both the opportunity to-”

Steve stopped dead in his tracks.

He had seen it, in the distance, moving through the crowd with practiced ease.

An unruly mop of curly brown hair.

Too long and too unrestrained to be polite.

A sight like that always shocked him, though he had seen it plenty of times before.

The man turned his head slightly and Steve could make out the jut of a chin, the curve of a jaw, a devastating dimple cutting into his cheek as he smiled.

“No…” Steve whispered.

He was vaguely aware of Robin’s hand trapped in his arm, of her calling out to him, but he couldn’t hear her through the muffled ringing in his ears.

Something inside of him…

Something that he had though was long broken.

Something shriveled up and withered.

That something inside of him lurched back to life.

Violently.

The man’s smile grew and out of his mouth barked a laugh so warm and jovial and achingly familiar that Steve felt it like a punch to the chest.

If he had been a mere human, he wouldn’t have been able to hear it so far away.

But it was a sound that had lived in the back of his mind for centuries now.

“It can’t be…” Steve muttered.

He was moving before he’d even recognised what he was doing, leaving Robin alone on the pavement and pushing his way through the crowd.

The only sound that was in his ears was a rush of something that would have been blood, maybe breath when he was alive, but now was just the dull roar of the wind passing him by as he fought to get as close as possible as he could.

The dark head of curls bobbed ahead of him, vanishing and reappearing between hats and umbrellas, always just far enough away.

Too far.

Too too far.

No.

He didn’t care anymore.

He saw the figure wave goodbye to the human he had been speaking to as she ascended the stairs to an impressive townhouse, but the man never turned to look behind him, despite the intensity of Steve’s gaze on the back of his head.

The man moved on, continuing further away.

Steve didn’t care if the humans around him noticed something unnatural in his stride, something unsettling in his singular focus and his ability to weave through them.

He didn’t care.

He had to get close enough to be sure.

Almost in a second the crowd seemed to clear.

Steve followed the figure around a corner onto an empty street, the rain was coming down heavy enough to give the street gas lamps a hazy look, their reflections dancing in the puddles below.

Townhouses lined the empty street to Steve’s left and just up ahead, too far away, his dark curls just turning the far corner and disappearing from sight.

The sound escaped him, ripped directly from his heart before he even knew he was speaking.

“Eddie! Mo chroí!”

The world around him seemed to stop, to hold its breath in anticipation, everything silent an unmoving in the echo of Steve’s words.

Then.

Footsteps.

Running.

Fast. Uncontrolled. Coming back the way they had gone.

Steve barely had time to draw breath he did not need before the figure burst back around the corner, coat flaring, curls wild and damp, energy electric as though he’d run for his life.

Steve nearly collapsed in on himself.

Because it was Eddie.

He looked almost the very same as he had the last time they had spent the night together in happiness.

But aside from all of that, he was looking back as Steve with recognition.

“Sötnos…” Eddie’s mouth moved around the sound, so quiet Steve couldn’t hear it, but he knew the shape of it by heart.

He didn’t remember Eddie crossing the distance between them, all he knew was that one moment he was standing at the opposite corner and the next, Eddie had thrown himself at Steve.

The impact rocked him back a step as Eddie jumped, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist, his arms around his neck and crushing him so tight in a hug, the breath would have been driven from him, had there been any left in his lungs.

Steve hugged him back, just as tight, feeling the lack of a heartbeat under his hands, the lack of breath in Eddie’s lungs, but he didn’t care.

He didn’t care that Eddie wasn’t alive anymore, that Eddie was like him.

He didn’t care, because he had him back.

Eddie loosened his arms and pulled back, but only enough to take in all of Steve’s face, his eyes full of desperate hope and heartbreak and unfathomable joy.

It lasted just a fleeting second before something within Eddie seemed to break.

The sudden and urgent press of Eddie’s lips against his was like finally being able to breathe again. It felt like coming home. It was as if a wave had crashed over him, filling him with light from the inside out, the very blood inside him sparkling, his stomach swooping.

Steve made a horrible broken sound against his mouth, almost like a whimper, something vulnerable in a way he hadn’t allowed himself for centuries.

Eddie still tasted like blackberries.

Steve kept one hand firmly clasped under Eddie, holding him close and tight to him, though Eddie’s legs wrapped fast around his hips would probably have been enough to hold him up on their own, Steve didn’t want to take the risk of creating even a fraction of space between them.

With his free hand he threaded it through Eddie’s beautiful hair, cradling the back of his skull and holding him as close as possible, slipping his tongue into his mouth.

He didn’t know how long they went on like that, all that he knew was that Eddie was making the most delicious noises Steve had ever heard.

The rain continued to pour down around them, soaking the two of them through but they didn’t care.

Neither of them felt it anyway.

“I've been looking…” Eddie swallowed when they finally pulled away from each other, any trace of the accent Steve had known so well on him was gone completely. “I've been searching for you for so long… and you're finally here.” Eddie grinned at him, hands on either side of Steve’s face, thumbs stroking his cheeks. “I can't believe it.”

His tone was almost reverent.

Eddie didn’t look a day older than the last time they had seen each other. His eyes were just as deep and dark, shifting in the flickering gas light and rain, like gemstones glittering with so much feeling. His skin was pale and whole and supple, his lips were pink and plump and as inviting as Steve had ever seen them.

It was torture to tear his eyes away from those lips, but…

“You've been looking for me?” He asked, meeting his eyes again.

It wasn’t the question he had intended to ask, but it was the question that had come out of his mouth, difficult and cracked around a painful tightness in his throat.

Eddie continued to look at him like he was a dream made manifest, eyes and fingers tracing over every part of Steve’s face.

“I had a lot of help. People I know in different cities. Chrissy she…” Eddie swallowed, took a deep breath. “She told me a young couple had moved here. A strange young couple. I didn't dare to hope, especially at the news of a pretty Mrs. Harrington but… she encouraged me to try-”

“Eddie.” Steve cut in immediately because he could not, would not allow him to go on believing Steve was anything less than devoted to him for the intervening centuries between their meetings. “Robin is not my wife. In name, yes, she is, but that is for her protection only. She is my companion but we are nothing more than friends. She is my best friend. The sister I never had. But we are not lovers. She is…” Steve squeezed Eddie a little tighter. “She is like us.”

Eddie smiled in response, almost a serene calm thing, his fingers gently touching each of Steve’s moles.

Steve had to swallow, the lump in his throat getting tighter and he knew he needed to ask the hard question.

“Eddie… how are you here?” He asked, it almost hurt to do so and his voice cracked when he next said; “I saw you die.”

Eddie just nodded, his eyes a little sad.

“But I wasn't completely dead. Your sire in his arrogance assumed Wayne would do what was asked of him, either dispose of me so I was definitely dead, or get greedy and finish me off himself and then dump me. But Wayne is… one of the best men I know. He took pity on me. He knew no physician would be able to save me. So he saved me himself. He sired me and left your Brood almost in the same moment.

“It took a couple of weeks for me to come back to myself, to fight back the delirious fever and find my way back to my cabin. But when I got there, you were long gone. The village had deserted. Apparently they believed the place cursed.

“So I began my search, with Wayne at my side. He left the name Harrington behind. Took my name, Munson. We are not a Brood. We're just… family.”

Something loosened, unspooled inside Steve’s chest, something that had been wound tight this entire time, something slowly closing around his heart, Steve could now feel it falling away like loose thread.

Eddie wasn’t under the cruel leadership of someone like Steve’s old sire.

He wasn’t owned.

He was free and loved and appreciated.

He had friends and family and Eddie had been looking for him.

Steve let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m so glad you had someone with you to keep you company. Wayne and Chrissy…” Steve frowned, thinking for a moment. “What's Chrissy’s last name?”

“Cunningham.” Eddie answered with a smile, still wrapped around Steve. “You've probably heard of her around town.”

Steve knew immediately who he was talking about.

“Yes, I have.” He nodded. “She's very well respected for a widowed woman. Robin is… intrigued.”

Eddie chuckled to himself, nuzzling his nose along Steve’s cheek.

“She is, is she? Interesting.”

“Is Chrissy like us?” Steve asked, finally setting Eddie down on the ground. Eddie had starting to trace his lips along Steve’s jaw and, though it may have been centuries, Steve still remembered how… persuasive he could be, inside or outdoors.

And Steve did not want to have to eat a constable to avoid a public indecency fine.

Eddie pouted a little at being put down but was happy enough when Steve kept him held close.

“No. Not yet anyway. She wants to stay human a little while longer to enjoy the things she couldn’t when she was living under her mothers roof and then her late husbands roof.” Eddie made a disgusted face. “He tasted like cheap gin and anchovies.”

Steve grinned. “Robin’s husband tasted like boiled cabbage.”

Eddie grinned right back at him.

“There’s definitely stories to swap there.”

Steve took Eddie’s hand in his.

“Definitely. Come on,” he said, smile splitting his face, feeling happier than he could ever remember, “I’m taking you home.”

AO3

Being up close and personal was clearly bringing certain things to his attention, too. In an abrupt, cartoonish show of shock, Eddie widened Steve’s eyes, the pair of them going big and round and so, so hazel in the early morning light. 

He still looks like a total Bambi, Steve thought affectionately. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Eddie flailed, arms pinwheeling through the air before he finally pointed an accusatory finger at the top of Steve’s head, “What the hell’d you do to m–to your hair?”

It was Steve’s turn to preen, his smile smug. Fluffing the curls with one hand, he tossed Eddie’s hair back and forth, biting back a giggle as the metalhead gaped at him. 

Man, that really was as fun as girls always made it look. 

“What do you think? Cuz, I gotta say…personally, I think your advice worked like a charm. I mean,” his grin turned cocky, “you are the hair care master, after all.” 

Eddie spluttered in disbelief. “Christ alive, man! Like that, I–you look like some kind of uh, uh–well-groomed, yappy little lap dog!”

Mr. Munson snorted, covering up the sound quickly with a cough–although, given the coffee he’d been sipping, maybe it was only partially an act. 

This time, Steve was the one gasping in outrage. “Uh, I so do not! The curls totally look pretty like this!”

Eddie’s borrowed cheeks flushed a deep crimson–whether from anger, or embarrassment, or even bashfulness, it was hard to say. 

I am no pressure tagging a few folks (and the ST writing server of course):

Cream For Your Coffee by @steddiehands86 steddie | explicit | 46,889 words (omegaverse coffee shop au with actor!steve and much misunderstanding) (yeah i drew art for this)

Crawling Back To You (Cause I Always Do) by @lexirosewrites steddie | explicit | 9,230 words (omegaverse s5 rewrite with kas!eddie in the upside down and mpreg)

A quiet I keep on keeping by ethereal_queer steddie | teen & up | 22,133 words (robin & eddie fake date and steve has realisations)

wild, wild horses (couldn't drag me away) by @ro15in steddie | explicit | 27,425 words (rockstar eddie x florist steve)

You are the best thing that’s ever been mine by @psychotic-fangirl369 byler | teen & up | 3,832 words (mike has a sexuality crisis cos will keeps complimenting him)

[podfic] Shipwrecked in the '80s (Still Adrift in the '90s) by @hullomoon steddie | explicit | 2:56:59

Shipwrecked in the '80s (Still Adrift in the '90s)  by @thisapplepielife steddie | explicit | 27,250 words

(second chance romance 10 years after they broke up)

I'll Keep the King by @kikidoesfanfic steddie | teen & up | 35,766 words (hellfire adopts steve)

you haven't got a prayer by @emchant3d, @inflomora-art steddie | explicit | 3,012 words (omegaverse, cnc stuck in a wall roleplay)

Dirty Decaf Chai by @loudsnapdragon steddie | teen & up | 36,729 words (annoying orders coffeeshop au)

Pirin Tablets at The Ruby Slipper by @tedewitt steddie | explicit | 30,900 words (birdcage au with drag queen!eddie) (i was the steddie bang artist for this one)

How Will You Know If You Found Me At Last? by DiscoSuperFly steddie | explicit | 38,823 words (tattoo artist!steve x professor eddie romcom)

you took my heart (i was sleeping) by lameparties byler | teen & up | 52,625 words (power outage bed sharing)

Baby It's Cold Outside by @hbyrde36 steddie | explicit | 9,380 words (eddie saves steve in a snowstorm meetcute)

downpour by djo_slut eddie x gareth | explicit | 3,590 words

Please don’t hate me by djo_slut eddie x gareth | explicit | 4,024 words

(trans gareth, underage, dubious consent)

either on or off the drugs by @greatunironic steddie | explicit | 9,660 words

Do I Look As Hungry As I Feel by thoroughlycomposed steddie | teen & up | 20,727 words (BETA STEVE — i needed this for beta representation)

To Save A Metalhead by @novacorpsrecruit steddie | teen & up | 13,717 words (time travel kid fic)

Black Gloves and A Tank Top by @eddywoww steddie | explicit | 8,248 words (omegaverse, tattoo artist!eddie)

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You by @itcanbepalped steddie | mature | 2,626 words (crocs saga, foot fetish)

Christmas Magic (Grown Your Own Boyfriend) by @machtaholic steddie | general audiences | 981 words (grow your own boyfriend!steve)

Salt and Sweet: Halotherapy by Anaxarete steddie | explicit | 77,840 words (recent widower baker!steve x author!eddie, grief, ptsd)

and i'm gonna keep on loving you by @ataliagold steddie | teen & up | 3,906 words (kas!eddie stuck in the upside down at WSQK station)

   "So, like. When two girls are dating, who's doing all the guy things?"

The question catches both Robin and Eddie off guard.

   "What do you mean guy things? There's no guy involved, Steve. I thought you knew that by now." Robin sounds almost offended if not for the slightly mocking undertone in her voice.

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs, "I know that! I'm not stupid. I just mean, you know, the things guys usually do. Like holding the door and paying for dinner and stuff."

Eddie wants to laugh but Steve doesn't seem to be joking.

   "Oh, Stevie.” The nickname slips out accidentally but Eddie can't help it, not when confusion looks so fucking cute on Steve.

   "It might be news to you but those things are not assigned to any particular gender. If you like someone and want to show them they're special, you just do it. Doesn't matter if you're a guy or a girl."

Steve contemplates Eddie's words before letting out a heavy sigh.

   "No one ever offered to hold the door for me. Or pay for dinner. Or pick me up for a date."

Eddie doesn't need Steve to spell it out; he knows what he's thinking. That he's not special enough to be treated like that, to have someone care for him like he cares for others.

It's heart-breaking and he can’t let it stand like that.

   "I would," he says before he can stop himself. "I mean, uh, if we were dating."

He can feel heat creeping into his face, can feel Robin staring holes into the side of his head, but none of it matters when Steve looks up at him with sparkling eyes and a soft smile, asking almost hopeful, "You would?"

   "Mhm," Eddie continues, doesn't care how stupid it is, how dangerously honest and revealing, giving away too much of the feelings that are supposed to stay locked inside.

   "I would pick you up with a bouquet of sunflowers because I know they're your favourite. We would go to that Italian restaurant you like, reservation and all."

He can see it all clearly before his mind's eye; it's not the first time Eddie imagines it, but the first time he says it out loud.

   "I’d hold the door open for you and pull out your chair and later, after dinner, we could stop at Lover's Lake and I’d get out a blanket so we could lay there and watch the stars for a while before I take you back home and walk you to your door and-"

He's out of breath before he can finish his train of thoughts, thankfully, because he already said too much.

It's all make-believe anyway, Steve would never-

   "Kiss me?"

Eddie blinks a few times, unsure if he's heard that right.

   "What?"

   "Will you kiss me goodnight?"

Steve says will, not would. Like it's not hypothetical anymore but an open invitation for Eddie to make a move.

He'd be stupid not to take it.

After marching the two of them back into the trailer living room, kicking the dog bed him and his uncle sometimes slept in out of the way (“What? It’s cheaper than a mattress and the pullout is older than Wayne. In the guise of man’s best friend, we werewolves can live in the lap of luxury.”), and pausing for Wayne’s snuffles to be heard through the door, Eddie sighed and went about shoving his face as far into Steve’s neck as he could. “Hi, you smell good tonight.” His boyfriend’s voice came out muffled by two layers of hair and Steve’s collar. “Any chance we can go back to your place and salvage the evening in that plaid palace of yours?” Steve brought his hand up to scratch at the spot behind his ear that always got his boyfriend melting. Sure enough, Eddie’s leg started thumping away.

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