thinking about that one HC of eddie being originally from appalachia before moving to hawkins and steve going absolutely feral every time the accent slips out, so here’s a tiny ficlet about steve realizing it’s basically his kryptonite
They’re in the horror aisle at Family Video, doing what they always do when it’s dead: finding the worst covers known to man.
Robin holds one up that looks like it was drawn in crayon. “This one,” she announces, “is a crime.”
Eddie barks out a laugh. “Lord, have mercy,” he says, and it rolls out of him warm and thick, a little different than usual.
He’s heard Eddie talk a million times. Ranting, scheming, flirting, yelling over amps. But this is… softer. Rounder. It hits his ears and lights up some stupid part of his brain like, oh. Oh, that’s new.
“Okay, where the hell did that come from?” Steve blurts.
“That.” Steve points at him like he’s just witnessed a crime. “You sounded like, like a whole other guy for a second.”
Color crawls up Eddie’s neck. He shrugs one shoulder, all defensive and twitchy. “Nowhere. Hush.”
“No.” Steve is immediately, deeply annoying about it. “Absolutely not. Say it again.”
“Not a chance, Harrington.” Eddie shoves a VHS into his chest. “Go alphabetize something.”
“Robin,” Steve whines, turning on her like a traitor witness. “Did you hear that? He did a voice.”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, gleeful. “Country boy jumped out.”
Eddie groans, shoving his hair back. “I hate both of you,” he lies, and stalks off down the aisle.
Steve follows, grinning, tossing movies back on the shelf. “C’mon, just one more ‘Lord, have mercy.’ Just for me. Just a little one.”
By the time they close up, Steve’s said “Lord, have mercy” in three different terrible impressions, and Eddie’s told him to shut up in at least five creative ways. The accent doesn’t come back, though, and Steve goes home weirdly, stupidly disappointed about it.
Later, they’re at the trailer, door propped open to let in the night air. Some crappy late-night talk show mumbles on the TV, volume low. They’re half lying, half sliding off the couch, feet tangled on the coffee table.
Eddie’s flipping through a battered magazine. Steve’s not even pretending to do anything else; he’s just watching him.
“You’re staring,” Eddie says without looking up.
“You’re avoiding,” Steve shoots back. “Say it again.”
Eddie drops the magazine onto his face for a second like he wishes for death. “You are so persistent.”
“Yes,” Steve says. “I am. We’ve established this.”
Eddie peels the magazine away and eyes him. Steve is sprawled out, hair a mess, socked toes nudging his thigh. He looks… annoyingly sincere.
“One word,” Steve says. “One. Then I’ll shut up forever.”
“Okay, I’ll shut up for, like, ten minutes.”
Eddie snorts. He should say no. Dig his heels in. But there’s this warm, fizzy feeling in his chest that he doesn’t want to look at too closely, and Steve’s looking at him like he hung the damn moon.
“You’re real persistent, ain’t you, sweetheart?” Eddie says finally, letting it come out the way it wants to, vowels soft, consonants a little lazier, the word sweetheart wrapped up in the drawl he’s been choking down for years.
Steve’s brain short-circuits.
It’s like someone unplugged and replugged him in a different outlet. His stomach does this weird swoop. His face goes hot. Something about the sound of it, about Eddie saying sweetheart like that, all slow and easy, hits directly behind his ribs.
“Oh,” Steve says, a little breathless.
Eddie raises an eyebrow, already smirking. “There. You happy now?”
“No,” Steve says, and then he’s moving before he really decides to, leaning over the tiny space between them.
It’s not planned. It’s not smooth. He just goes on impulse, mouth landing on Eddie’s with a soft, shocked sound like he surprised himself. His hand catches on Eddie’s shirt, fingers fisting in the worn fabric without thinking.
Eddie makes a tiny noise, half gasp, half laugh, and kisses back on instinct, then pulls away just enough to see Steve’s face. Steve’s flushed, wide-eyed, looking at him like he just handed over the Holy Grail.
There’s a beat where Eddie could pretend he doesn’t know exactly what just happened. Then he feels the grin pull at his mouth, slow and sharp.
“Oh, yeah,” he says, letting the vowels go loose on purpose now. “I can work with this.”
Eddie leans in again, close enough that Steve can feel his breath, and drops it low, sweet, a little smug. “Watch me, darlin’.”
Steve practically launches himself into the next kiss, and that’s when Eddie realizes he’s just unlocked the most unfair advantage in the world.
