Hoe Ass Productions

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The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

----

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He was sure he had a whole plan to let him down, probably with cookies or some shit because the guy was just sweet like that. But Eddie had no intention of sitting through his planned rejection.

If Steve wasn't interested, that was fine. He refused to ruin their friendship over his stupid fucking feelings. And the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else.

"So we can avoid this whole thing. Like, we would never work out anyway y'know? I'm not delusional enough to think otherwise," Eddie finished, "So now that that's over do you want to watch a movie or something?"

He finally chanced a look at him, fully expecting him to be look relieved. But...if anything he just looked shell-shocked. Steve swallowed, but nodded, looking away from him.

"Y-yeah. Sure dude. Totally get it. He sounds great and I, um. Yeah. Would you excuse me for a minute? Just um, wait here." Steve said, voice shaky. Which was...weird. What was his problem?

But Eddie nodded anyway, staying in his place on the couch while Steve speed walked out of the room and straight into the kitchen.

Huh. That's not where his movie collection was. Maybe he wanted to get snacks or something? But Eddie could help with that. He wasn't so fragile from rejection that he had to be waited on. He got up to follow him, stopping in his tracks when he actually made it to the doorway of the kitchen.

There Steve was, frantically blowing out a sea of candles in the dark, a trash bag in hand as he shoved what looked like a dinner for two inside of it, plates and all. He was mumbling to himself, quiet enough for Eddie to only make out a few words here and there.

Stupid, idiot, what else did you think was going to happen?

Eddie stared at Steve's turned back, mind working a mile a minute.

What the fuck was happening? Did...was he expecting someone later? But it was already eleven at night. And he hadn't mentioned anything but Eddie coming over. Unless...

Oh no.

"Stevie?" Eddie hesitantly called out, a mix of hope and fear, mixing in his stomach, "What's going on in here?

The sound of his voice was enough to make Steve freeze, but he didn't turn around. But Eddie could fucking hear him sniffle right before he spoke, "Nothing. Nothing that you have to worry about okay? I just...nothing. I'll figure it out. But maybe you should go. I'll call you tomorrow."

He went back to his cleaning, clearly trying to pretend that Eddie wasn't there. But he was still sniffling.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Eddie stepped farther into the room. Like hell he was leaving now. Not without some answers, "Was this for me?"

Steve finally turned to him, snapping back, "Does it matter? You made your feelings loud and clear dude. You can go now okay? I won't bring it up again so just leave me alone."

It was hard to see anything in the dark, especially since there were only a few candles still lit, but Eddie could swear that those were tears on his face.

Tears he caused. But this didn't make any sense. How could he have been so wrong? Steve had left that morning! But...now that Eddie thought about it, he had mentioned something about Keith having mono and picking up extra shifts. And hadn't Dustin called him for rides a little more often this week? Complaining about how Steve was too busy?

But still! This was Steve! And he was just Eddie! Eddie who didn't hold a fucking candle to him, why would he ever be interested?

But what the fuck else could this mean?

It took Eddie a minute to realize that he was just standing there like an idiot and by then Steve had already thrown the trash bag down. He spun around, calling out over his shoulder, "If you won't leave then I will. Have fun with Alec or whatever his name is. You know where the door is."

And just like that he was leaving, stomping through the side glass doors and into the backyard, leaving a speechless Eddie in his wake.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How had he managed to fuck this up so much?

But if Eddie was good at anything, it was thinking on his feet. Okay, so Steve liked him. Liked him enough to plan a sweet romantic date night and then not punch Eddie in the face when he mentioned another guy. And that the idea of them working out was delusional. And after that nice little out and proud comment, because why not insult Steve's sexuality on top of everything?

Shit, shit shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

But he could fix this. He beat a multi-murder rap sheet, telling Steve that he was a pathetic liar who wanted him like no tomorrow couldn't be that fucking hard right? Eddie wracked his brain for a second, eyes flitting to the phone on the wall. The cordless phone on the wall.

A plan suddenly hit him, stupid and kind of fucked up, but at least it was something. He waltzed up to it, dialing Alex's number before walking outside to follow Steve.

He was sitting on one of the lawn chairs, knees pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his arms, shaking while he cried quietly.

The sight of him sitting there, crying over fucking Eddie of all people, made him feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

But he was going to fix it.

"Hello?" Alex's voice answered.

"Hey Alex, it's Eddie," Steve's head snapped up at the sound of his voice, eyes wet and nose red. He stared at Eddie, brow furrowed as he talked into the phone. He put it on speaker, praying that Steve would let him get through this without walking away first.

"Hey Eddie! We still on for Friday?"

"Actually that's what I'm calling about," Eddie said, eyes on Steve, "I'm real sorry about this man, but the guy I'm in love with kind of planned an adorable date for me tonight. So I'm going to be busy trying to make him my boyfriend for the next few months. Sorry about that."

Alex paused, voice confused, but just the slightest bit amused, "Is wouldn't happen to be that Steve guy you were crying about the night we met, is it? What happened to him being completely out of your league?"

Steve stared at him, slack jawed as Eddie smiled and nodded, "That's the one. And he definitely still is out of my league. He could do a lot better than me, but I'm a bad enough person to go for it anyway. Sorry again, dude."

Alex sighed, "No worries I guess. But if it doesn't work out, maybe think about giving him my number?"

Eddie laughed, "I'll think about it."

He hung up the phone, setting it on the patio table for stepping up to Steve, his voice coming out a lot stronger than how he felt, "Y'know, I kind of thought that the whole being eaten alive thing had sucked all the cowardice out of me. But apparently I was wrong. Because to be honest with you Stevie, loving you has been the most terrifying thing I've ever done. And I just assumed that you were smart enough to know that you could do better than me. Because you're gorgeous and funny and sweet, and I, obviously am an inconsiderate moron.

Steve sniffled, but he was smiling, "You're not a moron."

Eddie shook his head, taking the smile as an official go ahead to sit down next to him, "Oh I am. Because I got this amazing guy in bed a few days ago. And my first reaction was to convince myself that it was a one night stand, despite the evidence to the contrary. So I get in my head, tell myself that you're not interested, say a bunch of stupid shit that I don't even mean, then try and ruin the best thing that happened to me before it even starts."

Steve wiped at his eyes, but at least he looked like he was listening, "If you're doing this because you feel bad-"

"I'm doing it because I love you," Eddie interrupted. Fuck it, might as well put it all out there, make it as clear as humanly possible, "And if I had known that you even felt a fraction of what I did, I would be sitting at your table right now asking you to be my boyfriend. But since I already fucked that up, I have to do it like this."

Steve was really smiling now, and part of Eddie couldn't quite believe that this was working out.

"So Steve, will you be my boyfr-"

Eddie didn't even have time to finish the sentence before Steve was kissing him, dragging him close by the hair. Eddie grinned into it, cupping his hands on Steve's cheeks.