Janie Bean

Wayne understood, and washed his hands of Hawkins, too.

So, they kind of avoid Indiana in general, and aren't exactly in contact with the majority of Hawkins these days. 

Sure, Henderson and the other sheepies have made shows here and there all over the country, but going home? To that hell hole? Absolutely not. 

But seeing them all in the crowd, together again, just to see him? Fuck. It does something to Eddie that he can't explain.

After the show, Steve picks Eddie up and hugs him, cracking his back in the process.

Eddie laughs.

Nobody treats Eddie like this anymore, except for Wayne and the other guys in the band, so it's a nice change of pace to know that Steve still sees him as Eddie. Not Eddie Munson, business commodity. 

"How are you man? How's the high life?" Steve asks, and Eddie tosses his head back, laughing. Steve hasn't changed. He's a little dorky, and a lot good dude. 

"Good," Eddie says with a smile, "I'm good. How're you?"

"Good, good. I'm good."

"Still in Hawkins?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods.

Eddie doesn't see how Steve can do it, but of course they didn't try to hang Steve in the town square. Deemed guilty by the court of public opinion before the blood he didn't spill had even dried.

This is Steve Harrington, Eddie's sure he's an upstanding member of society.

"Want to get a drink?" Eddie asks, because he can't in good conscience let Steve disappear that easily. If Steve came all this way, Eddie at least needs to keep him a little bit longer.

Two drinks turn into wandering hands, and when Steve corners him in the hallway of the hotel bar back by the bathroom, Eddie leans into it. Presses against Steve, straddling Steve's thigh, grinding against him. 

"Fuck," Steve says, and that's definitely the idea, as far as Eddie's concerned. They try to keep their hands to themselves until they're in Eddie's hotel room, but then all bets are off, clearly.

Eddie couldn't have dreamed of this, even if he'd been making unattainable wishes.

It's fun, and familiar, even if it's not anything they've ever done together before. 

Eddie needed this. Needed to laugh, and fuck, to just unwind with someone he trusts with his life, not to mention his body.

Steve Harrington wanted to have sex with him, as familiar, old friends. Because, yeah, clearly they have some mutual attraction, but that's not unusual. Eddie's been attracted to lots of people over the years, and he's fucked more than he can count. Men, women. They don't mean anything, but tonight Steve crawled in his bed because he likes Eddie as a person, knows him, and trusts that they'll have fun together, not because he's famous. That's a gift. One Eddie hasn't gotten in a really long time.

Eddie rolls onto his back, and opens his thighs. 

"What do you need?" Steve asks, looking up at him with those warm eyes. And it is a need, not just a want. He's right about that.

Everything. He wants everything.

"Your mouth," he says, then, "your cock." He can't decide. 

Steve laughs, then says, "Deal," with a grin.

Eddie throws his arm over his eyes, and then realizes he doesn't want to miss this, he wants to see it all. And he knows that was a great decision, when Steve takes him into his mouth.

Holy shit. Steve Harrington, with his hair falling over his forehead, is sucking his dick, and goddamn well.

"Goddamn, Harrington," Eddie teases, and Steve pulls off just long enough to smile a smile that settles between Eddie's ribs and takes up residence.

Eddie hasn't done this in forever, but he melts into the sheets as Steve fucks his fingers in and out of his body. He's ready. He's so beyond ready for Steve to fuck him.

"Steve, now," Eddie says. 

And Steve nods, and Eddie watches as Steve rolls a condom down his impressive cock. Then he's lining up and pressing inside. A slow, steady slide. He's open, and oh so fucking ready. His cock is hard, laying against his belly, a sign of trust, of pleasure, that he doesn't take for granted.

Steve Harrington won't hurt him. Steve Harrington saved him once, and goddamn, he might be doing it again right now.

Eddie groans. It feels so good. He hasn't trusted anybody to do this for him in a long, long time. But he knows that Steve will take real good care of him. Steve always takes good care of everyone.

And tonight is no different. Steve builds a rhythm, finding all the right places in Eddie's body, in his heart, and when Eddie comes, he laughs. He's gonna chase this particular high for the rest of his life, guaranteed.

It's morning, and the plane leaves in an hour. Flying private does save time, but he's pushing it.

Steve leans over, dressed, ready to go, and kisses him goodbye.

"It was good to see you. Maybe don't wait another dozen years," Steve says, and then with a smile, he's gone.

Another month of shows, nothing out of the ordinary, but it's been so fucking rough. Eddie can't even explain why. Nothing has changed. They've been in the swing of touring for a very long time. But he suddenly feels like he's lost all his mojo. Like he's trying to force a square peg into a round hole.

He's frustrated. Musically, and sexually, if he's honest. Nobody is holding a candle to a night with Steve Harrington, and he wishes he was surprised by that.

"Go."

Eddie jerks his head up, "What?"

Gareth smiles, "You heard me. Go."

"Go where?" Eddie asks, fiddling with the strings of his guitar, just for something to do.

"Go home. To him," Gareth answers, and Eddie knew that's what he meant.

Eddie sits there for a moment longer, and Gareth shoots him a look, "Go." 

He goes.

Their chartered plane is tied up elsewhere, so it takes waiting in an airport for nearly a day, with flight after flight falling through. Holiday travel has the airports busy, and the weather is keeping flights delayed.

He's in a private lounge, so he's not being bothered by anybody, but it's making him nervous, and a little bit crazy. He wonders if he should hit one of the pay phones and call Steve, warn him that he's coming in.

He doesn't. He thinks, no matter how this goes, that Steve will be happy to see him if his reaction after the show is anything to go by.

But he's going home for the first time in over a decade, because he wants to see Steve. Needs to. Because what he felt that night, seeing him again, isn't something he's felt in a very long time.

Steve doesn't seem all that surprised to see him, but he welcomes him with open arms.

"I can't believe I'm back in this town," Eddie says. "How can such a shithole have you in it?"

Steve laughs.

"At least they took down the fucking sign declaring Hawkins the birthplace of Corroded Coffin. Like hell it is."

Steve smiles, a twinkle in his eye.

"Come with me," Steve says, and Eddie follows him out the back door and towards a little shed. He can't imagine what Steve needs to show him out here, but after Vecna, and all the shit that happened in the Upside Down, if Steve Harrington says jump, Eddie will only ask how high.

The shed has three padlocks, and Eddie is suddenly scared he's gonna be a headline. He doesn't really know Steve Harrington anymore. He could be a serial killer. 

He laughs to himself.

"It's not a serial killer shed," Steve says, as if he can read his mind.

"I didn't think that," Eddie says.

He totally thought that.

Steve unlocks the last padlock and swings open the door.

Eddie's stunned. 

There's at least a dozen road signs, all proclaiming Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin.

Eddie laughs, cackles, honestly.

"You didn't?" he asks, and Steve grins.

"I absolutely did. Every last one. They finally stopped putting them back up. They blamed the kids wanting them for souvenirs, not the middle school phys ed teacher stealing them because I knew how much you'd hate them."

Eddie loves him more than he's ever loved anyone, he's pretty sure. He can't believe Steve did this for them, he wasn't even in contact with any of them. 

"How did you know…?" Eddie trails off, not sure how to word it.

"That you'd hate it?" Steve asks.

And Eddie nods.

"You never came home, and for good reason. They didn't deserve to say you were theirs. You were always ours, though. We're really proud of you."

Eddie barrels into him, hugging him tight, "Thanks, Steve."

"It was nothing," he says, and then he grins, "Robin helped."

"Hell yeah, Buckley did."

Ten Years Later

"It was go," Eddie says in the interview chair that he's been in for hours. Press junkets are the fucking worst. 

"Go?" the interviewer asks.

Eddie nods, "You asked for the kindest word I've ever been told. Go."

"Do you want to elaborate?" she asks, trying to probe.

"Not really," he says, but offers a smile, and she returns it.

It's his secret. His and Gareth's, he supposes, but it changed the whole trajectory of his life. Warming up all the coldness that he hadn't even realized he was feeling until Steve Harrington waltzed back into his life.

Gareth told him to go, set him free, trusting that he'd return back to the band better than he left it.

He did.

With Steve, he's better. Happier. Their music has only gotten better with Eddie settled into his own skin, his own love. He has a home, even if god-fucking-forbid, it's in Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin.

Once word got out, they put up another sign.

Eddie stole it. The very last sign Hawkins ever tried to put up.

They arrested him, and he smiled for his mugshot.

Eventually the charges were dropped. They were far too embarrassed to actually try him for stealing his own sign, unwilling to put him on the stand to ask him why.

He'd love to tell him.

So, Hawkins has left him alone, and he's made peace that he may never forgive and forget, but Steve's whole life is here, and that means Eddie's gonna be here, too.

They let him keep the sign. It's in the shed with the other thirteen.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Although Steve is pretty sure Eddie thrives on interaction, on new experiences, on just...life, in general, since it’s all still shiny and new to him...he also senses Eddie has creeping uncertainties around his feelings about The General Public.

There’s a distinct possibility they might be starting to get to him, especially when they’re rude. Eddie has made it clear he does not like it when people are rude, asking Steve one evening, “why can’t they just be nice? I’m nice.”

And although Steve totally agreed with Eddie, he couldn’t really give a satisfactory explanation as to why some people just seem to be perpetually dicks.

According to Chrissy, everyone likes their home to look nice for Thanksgiving and Christmas, so that means a lot of fresh flower arrangements to put together, and Eddie has been working the register and maintaining the store front a lot of the time, an arrangement that gives Eddie a lot of exposure to The General Public.

Not to mention all the gifts on the run up to Christmas; Eddie said a man came in yesterday and put in an order for twelve matching arrangements for the end of this week. Eddie haltingly explained that all of his staff, ‘the girls’ were getting flowers and wine as a Christmas gift from the boss. Apparently it ‘keeps them sweet’, which was actually the phrase Eddie was seeking clarification on.

He was relieved to hear the man wasn’t actually a cannibal of some sort.

Eddie’s also, clearly, worried about Chrissy. She accepted the order for the arrangements, but Eddie was vocally unimpressed by the short notice; having him explain things to Steve is kind of novel, it’s been the other way around since Steve rescued Eddie from Starcourt. Now he has Eddie explaining to him about how long ordering flowers takes and how long they last in the shop. Eddie’s also clearly spent enough time with Chrissy to pick up the language; he talks about all the flowers with confidence, and the pride that wells up inside Steve seems to fill him like a warm balloon. He’s pretty sure he could listen to Eddie talk all day, which is lucky, because unless he’s engrossed in something, Eddie likes to talk a lot.

Chrissy isn’t there when Steve heads in, but Eddie is behind the counter rolling some flowers in some paper, producing a neat bunch held together with some ribbon. His hair is different from when he left the house this morning; it had been in a sloppy bun, but it’s much neater now. Steve can see where Chrissy has put it in a tight braid and tidied some of Eddie’s flyaway curls with bobby pins, there’s a little red tinsel on the stubby end of the braid; it’s cute.

He’s wearing a black tee shirt under his apron, some rock band thing, and Steve waits as Eddie deftly works the register and then hands the lady her change.

“See you again soon,” he calls to the woman as she bustles out of the store, Steve holding the door for her.

There’s already someone else at the register, but Eddie gives Steve a quick smile before he disappears out the back. He’s holding a massive bouquet when he comes back, so Steve just lingers, looking at all the loose flowers while Eddie finds a receipt book and an order and charges the customer the remaining balance after deducting their deposit.

He does the whole thing smoothly, completely competent. Steve is so fucking proud of him.

“Hey, you forgot your lunch.”

“Thank you, sorry you needed to drive here.”

Steve shrugs, “that’s okay, busy again today?”

Eddie nods, pulling the sandwich from the sack and getting it half unwrapped so he can shove it in his mouth, “forgot breakfast.”

Steve had been showering this morning when Eddie had headed down; he hadn’t even noticed Eddie hadn’t eaten, “I’ll make us a big dinner? What do you want?”

Eddie shrugs, shoving the sandwich in for another bite. The store goes quiet, the background music stopping, and Eddie desperately chews and swallows, “Chrissy!” He calls, “not again?”

“Yes again!” And then the music starts. Bing Crosby, White Christmas, or whatever it’s called. Eddie groans, his whole body sagging.

“Not enjoying the Christmas tunes?”

“They were okay the first ten times.” Eddie says, deadpan. The bell tinkles behind Steve, and Eddie wraps his lunch up quick, stashing it under the counter, “morning,” he tells the customer, who then asks Eddie a question about flowers that Steve doesn’t understand.

Steve shifts himself out of the way a little, lingering while Eddie deals with yet another customer. There’s a tugging on his pant leg, and Steve looks down to find a little girl, toddler age, pointing at a flower she can’t reach.

Steve has absolutely no idea what it is, but it has a soft stem; no hard bits or thorns or anything, so he crouches down to give it over.

She’s cute, a yellow woolen dress over fluffy tights and tiny little boots. She has her hair gathered up in a bun, mumbling something that sounds like, “princess hair,” before tilting her head so Steve can put the stem of the flower through her bun.

“I’m so sorry, Grace, come on, don’t bother the poor man,” her mother takes her hand, bouquet grasped in the other.

“Oh, no problem, she’s fine.”

The bell tinkles as they leave, and Steve turns to find he’s being watched by Chrissy and a chewing Eddie, “well that was adorable.”

Steve shrugs, “she was cute.”

“Uh hu, can just see you with like, a soccer team of munchkins.”

“Can’t say I’ve given it much thought,” which is true, just lately. He had always thought he’d like a few kids, but now there’s Eddie, and Steve guesses things just don’t work out that way sometimes.

“Uh hu, pretty sure Eddie would make the best dad,” Chrissy bumps shoulders with him playfully, but Steve catches the fleeting frown on Eddie's face. “You still seeing Owens later?” Chrissy changes tack.

“Yeah, he’s got me and Eddie filling out a dream diary thing.”

“Yeah, Eddie said, last night he dreamed he was a gift and Santa dropped him off at the wrong house.”

“Shhh!” Steve tells her, “we’re not supposed to talk about it in case we like, muddy the results or whatever, subconsciously.”

“Uh hu. So what did you dream last night?” Chrissy asks; she blatantly doesn’t care for Owens’ scientific method.

Steve sighs. Today is the last day of the diary thing, so it probably doesn’t make any difference, “Santa left a gift by accident, and I had to get it to the kid it was meant for so I...dreamt I broke into the post office. It made sense at the time.”

“Steve...come on, you can’t deny the link there, it’s not exactly subtle. Maybe Eddie has powers, like El?”

“Yeah, and maybe we should burn the stupid diaries...I don’t want to give Owens any excuse to experiment-”

The bell over the door tinkles, Chrissy plastering on her customer service smile and Eddie stashing the crumpled paper bag beneath the counter again.

Eddie sits with a headband of little devices strapped around his head. He seems fine about it, but Steve’s not going to take his eyes off him. Or Owens.

“Your friend could be right Eddie, your readings are not that dissimilar to El’s just...greatly reduced. Much weaker.”

“So I won’t be moving things around with my mind?”

“I...doubt it.”

Eddie humphs, which despite Steve continuing to be deeply unimpressed with Owens, he can’t help but be amused by. “So what about the dreams?”

“There could be...multiple explanations. From the readings we have from Eddie, and other...examples,” Owens says the word very carefully. Steve knows Eddie was not the only ‘specimen’ brought back from the upside down, but he’s the only one Owens is saying survived Starcourt. Some were even dissected there, a thought that makes Steve feel physically cold with the horror of it.

“There is a possibility that Eddie, at that point in his development, had access to a kind of...low level hive mind. And now that Eddie no longer has access to that, it’s seeking out the nearest thing to join up with. Of course that is just speculation; I don’t know how your DNA being in the mix could effect that? It could simply be that you and Eddie became somehow...linked due to your contribution to the transformation. If you would consent to me taking a blood sample-”

Steve huffs, and something on Eddie’s monitor beeps, “what was that?”

Owens shrugs, “it would take a lot more study. That could simply be Eddie responding to visible irritation from you, or it could be that there is a genuine link and he felt it too.”

They’ve had this conversation so many times now, and every time Owens brings it up, Steve wants to punch him. He just cannot bring himself to tolerate Owens, knowing his methods and what he’s done. Unfortunately he seems to the be only one; Hopper seems disgruntled but willing to go along with it. That doesn’t seem to mean much though, Hopper is disgruntled by everything and constantly seems to be just going along with it anyway.

Eddie likes Owens, and has outright told Steve so. El seems fine with him, too. So it’s just Steve, digging his feet in stubbornly. “Would it help Eddie? My blood?”

“Obviously there are no guarantees but...I have samples of the before and after with Eddie...so to have a better view of the catalyst from the transformation…simply put, I would be able to see what parts of Eddie are you, Steve, and what parts developed organically. To have a better understanding of this now would be helpful in the future should there be a problem.”

“Stevie? You don’t have to.”

Steve sighs, “I know I just...just do it then,” he sits in the seat Owens indicates, “and what about this mental link thing?”

“That would require a lot of testing,” Owens answers vaguely.