Green he/they 30

Steve sees Eddie out in public and partially recognizes him, no idea he's famous but in one of those I've definitely seen your face before but he can't get his concussion riddled brain to place where

Eddie meanwhile is bracing himself for either an over eager fan or based on how angry Steve's confused face is for him to start shouting about 'satan worship'

But then Eddie does a double take.

This guy is HOT— in a very Big Brown Eyes and Big Dumb Face kind of way. Dressed like he could be opening for Eddie's band on tour- smudged eyeliner giving Bambi 2: Bambi's Revenge. He still looked a little lost and angry with the scrunched eyebrows and the searching gaze, clearly trying to place where he knew Eddie from.

Eddie can't really be faulted for what happened next, his brain short circuited when the guy looked down at his mouth waiting for an answer like he was about to try and read his lips. The hotel lobby they were standing in was fairly busy for after 12 in the morning, it was kind of loud, so Eddie couldn't be sure if the guy was just hard of hearing, but his stare was intense.

"Dustin? Yeah, I love that guy, you know Dustin?"

And Eddie didn't regret a word, because the smile that lit up this guy's face was fucking breathtaking- like Eddie literally choked on his own spit as the guy slapped his shoulder heartily and let out a relieved sort of chuckle to go along with the toothpaste commercial sparkle blinding Eddie.

"Oh, good, I'm glad I'm not the only one turning up a little late to the party! I'm Steve."

"I'm-" Eddie didn't get the chance to decide whether to go with his real name or make one up, Steve grabbed his elbow and started pulling Eddie through the lobby toward a hallway that led past the business center and toward the banquet halls and conference rooms.

Eddie only knew that because he had snuck down here to get away from his bands' room party to have a smoke (and a slight pity party as he had felt like he'd flubbed a few of the songs tonight) and the door marked 'staff only' at the end of this hallway led out to a tiny private courtyard that was blocked in on all sides by the hotel- so his likelihood of being found by a stray fan was pretty slim.

"Sorry, we'll have to walk and talk if we wanna make it before Dustin is done for, you were saying?" Steve had a nice strong grip on Eddie's arm, his hand slipping from his elbow, down Eddie's tattooed forearm and to his wrist, before deeming Eddie's pace acceptable and letting go.

Eddie followed Steve, head empty, no thoughts, as he considered how big this guy's hands were and where else Eddie would like to see them sliding along his skin. Steve started to ramble about how Dustin was such a great guy but he could be a little terror when things didn't go down according to his plan, and Steve didn't want to have to hear his bitching. Dustin was bound to already be hyped up from the concert tonight, he shouldn't have to sit through a lecture about being punctual to a "rockstar hotel after-party themed birthday party" -wouldn't be very 'metal' of him.

That one shocked a belly laugh out of Eddie, and Steve turned to him with a grin that scrunched his eyes and made him look very pleased with himself.

"The arrogance of this kid, am I right?" Steve bumped shoulders with Eddie, giving a conspiratorial wink, causing Eddie to wobble a little too far from Steve, his feet mindlessly falling in line beside this gorgeous boy who he willingly let drag him away to some unknown destination. Steve reached to grab Eddie's arm to reel him back in and steady him, and Eddie reflexively grabbed his hand and let him.

"It's the tone." Eddie nodded along sagely, hoping to keep this cutie talking to distract him from the fact Eddie didn't plan on letting his hand go anytime soon. It seemed to work just fine as Steve smiled at him and continued his rant/gushing about this kid turning 21 and he 'deserved to have the best night of his life' after the last few years of his hard work and dedication paying off with his early graduation from college looming at the end of the month as well. Steve looked somehow exasperated and proud at the same time.

Eddie fell in love.

"Oh, hey, I didn't catch your name did I?" Steve finally asked as he turned to face Eddie head on again, walking backwards into the door to their left and hitting the bar across it to open it as he pulled Eddie along. Steve glanced down at Eddie's mouth again, biting his own lips as if he really needed to concentrate this time so he didn't miss whatever words formed on the tip of Eddie's tongue.

"Sweetheart, you can call me yours if you keep holding onto me like that." Eddie winked, causing Steve to flush pink in the cheeks and look down to where he had gripped Eddie's hand, fingers interlocking seamlessly, as if he only just realized he was holding on so tight.

"I'm Eddie." Eddie gripped Steve's hand tighter and brought their hands up so he could kiss his knuckles. He didn't break eye contact, so the slight gasp that fell from Steve's lips drew his attention down to the pink lips that had just popped open in a perfect little circle.

They both stopped and stared at each other, neither willing to break the eye contact first as they felt something simmering and sparking between the two of them, building heat.

"STEVE! You're late! Who's your friE—OH MY GOD THAT'S EDDIE MUNSON! STEVE! HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW EDDIE MUNSON, YOU ACTED LIKE YOU'D NEVER HEARD OF HIM WHEN YOU TOLD ME YOU COULDN'T COME TO THE CONCERT WITH US TONIGHT!"

"You must be Dustin. Happy Birthday!" Eddie turned on the Charm™ in the face of the birthday boy- clearly a little drunk (if the red face and the inability to regulate his volume was anything to go by) and clearly a big fan.

"No wait-" Steve looked from Dustin, to Eddie shaking Dustin's hand (without loosening his grip on Steve's other hand for even a second), to Eddie's face, back to Dustin's face (which looked like it might need a hard reboot), to the group starting to gather behind Dustin at the commotion he'd caused at their entrance, then down to Eddie's hand in his.

Steve: He was in the hotel lobby dressed like a Rockstar, Robin. How was I supposed to know he was a real one and not just a dork larping as one for Dustin's party?!

Robin: You literally pulled a Rockstar while larping as a Rockstar for Dustin's party.

Steve: I don't know how I'm even gonna tell our kids about this one day.

Robin: *facepalms*

Eddie: *still holding Steve's hand* Don't worry about it Sweetheart, we can save it for the grandkids.

Steve: I'm ready to leave now.

Eddie: Your penthouse suite awaits, My Liege. *Bows and kisses Steve's knuckles again*

I always imagine Eddie sitting on the top of the backrest while Steve is bracketed by Eddie's knees on the couch. He'll take those short tufts and plait them, rake his fingers through them, get a grip on them and pull Steve's head back for a spiderman kiss. If he inches any higher, or wider, where product has been specially placed, Steve is quick to get away and bat those mitts off.

After learning that Eddie takes as much pride in Steve's hair as Steve himself (they are The Hair Queens, after all), there's enough trust for Eddie to do whatever the fuck he wants with it once it's been styled.

Barb is a witness to the fight, to the aftermath, to Steve sitting in the passenger seat of the Chief's truck and lying about his injuries.

She is the sole witness to his first seizure.

He is being weird.

He's been listless and short-tempered all day. He's been clumsy and forgetful, and he is staring.

She had watched him stop and stare. She has seen him pause and stare. She's seen him rub his eyes, shake his head, frown. And stare.

He's been staring at the same spot for five minutes.

She looks behind her to see what has him transfixed and finds nothing. She snaps, "What are you looking at?!"

"Barbara?"

Now she stops. She stares. She matches his frown and asks, "You can see me?"

And then he seizes.

When it stops and he comes to, he cannot see her. He cannot hear her.

She is also the sole witness to his second seizure.

He says awed, "Barb?"

She says, "You're about to have a seizure."

But what nobody knows is Steve started it. And Steve keeps starting it. Because the first time Eddie got really mad like red faced, voice cracking, gesturing with those rings and hair all wild from running his hands through it Steve’s brain just short circuited. God, he’s so hot when he’s pissed. He would think to him self.

So now Steve has a system. He says something dumb about his music choice and Eddie explodes. Steve wins. Not the argument. But just to see him.

Eddie doesn’t get it at first. He just thinks Steve’s an asshole who peaked in high school and never learned to shut up. Until one night Steve’s baiting him about “real music” and Eddie shoves him hard against the brick wall outside the Hideout, and Steve smiles.

Oh.

“You absolute freak,” Eddie says realization dawning and devastating. “You like this. You like when I—”

He doesn’t even realize it at first. Why would he? It starts with little lingering touches: a hand on the knee, on the small of his back or on his shoulder. Things that leave him unknowingly craving more. That is, until one late night when hanging out at Eddie’s trailer, Steve seems really stressed. Why? He doesn’t really know himself. He’s worked up, pacing, running his hand through his hair until its usual careful style is a mess.

And well, Eddie has had enough by the time Steve starts huffing, so he gets his attention with a wave and drawl of, “alright Harrington. You look tense, dude. And all that pacing is fucking with my nerves. Just c’mere.”

Steve hesitates but quickly decides with a shrug, what the hell, why not? Eddie pulls him down into his lap on the floor at the end of the bed. It’s a little surreal, especially when Steve finds himself liking it when the other boy’s dark curls brush his cheek, tickling his skin. The smell of bong water staining the carpet makes Steve’s nose wrinkle at first, but that’s soon forgotten, because next thing he knows, Eddie is playing with his hair. And it feels good. Really good. Eddie’s long fingers spread out, lightly scratching his scalp and scrunching in his hair, sending tingles all down Steve’s toned arms and back. The veins on his biceps pop out when the muscles in them tighten, a side effect of the heavy, pleasant shudder that runs through him.

Steve isn’t used to this. Sure, his dates run their hands through his hair all the time, tugging and tangling tight. And Steve likes that… but Eddie’s fingers aren’t moving with the intent of something transactional. That’s new. Instead, his fingers are almost sensual as they slowly and purposely run through Steve’s thick waves. Paying extra attention to the little spots next to his ears and nape that curl, because it makes goosebumps rise on his arms. Steve thinks he might almost die right there.

Which would be unfortunate, because he’d miss Eddie adding his lips to the mix. Slow, peppering kisses that have Steve melting even further into a puddle in the metalhead’s arms. Plump, pillowy lips over slightly tanned skin. So warm. Damp too. And maybe just a little bit sloppy as he leaves pecks dotting soothingly over Steve’s moles and freckles. While at the same time, Eddie’s fingers carefully card through the thick expanse of hair on his chest. It would be overwhelming if Eddie weren’t so soft about it. Twice, Eddie sneaks in a sweet kiss to Steve’s lips, their plush mouths slotting together like puzzle pieces. The feeling of it warms Steve considerably, causing pink to dust his cheeks in the low light that makes Eddie grin. Surprisingly, it didn’t take much to settle Steve completely.

And Steve’s eyes would eventually droop with sleepiness—Eddie really is just that good at this whole touching thing—dozing off with his head against Eddie’s chest and the curl of his lips into a smile… because shit, he’s definitely touch-starved, but now he knows what it’s like to be taken care of too.

I decided to try and come out of my long writing slump with some wholesome Steddie, so this is just a quick 2AM blurb about touch-starved Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson trying to fix it. hope you like it!

Eddie can relate.

He too, says a lot of things, many untrue, many more weilded in defense-- if not of himself or others, than the principles that guide his doctrine.

Hawkins is a shitty small town, full of equally shitty, small minded people. It's easy to sell a lie.

Be a magician, and make them all look at one hand while you make the real magic happen with the other.

So he gets it, when Henderson swears his (former?) babysitter Steve Harrington is "a good dude we can call for help" when Van Helsing's engine gives out, stranding them.

He understands when Henderson doubles down when called out, storming his way to a payphone.

Eddie even applaudes the dedication to the bit when Henderson actually fakes the entire damn phone call.

At no point does he honestly believe The Hair himself will show up to rescue a mixed crew of Hellfire members because some nerdy kid called him.

Dustin Henderson, Eddie learns some odd 30 minutes later, watching Steve fucking Harrington flip a wrench lazily in the air, is the smugest freshman on the planet when hes proven right.

robin, curled into a ball on the couch at the radio station, yeah, he should check, just to see if she hasn't suffocated herself in that weird position she sleeps in. still breathing, she's fine.

mike and will, oh look, they're holding hands under the blanket, which is none of his business, but that's kind of cute, still breathing. he double checks will and max, just to be sure.

eddie- god, he sleeps like roadkill, face half buried in his makeshift pillow. he's fine, still breathing, hair all over the place.

dustin's curls meshed into the sleeping bag. good, still breathing- drooling, too. but he's fine. fingers almost touching el's, smooth bastard. she's good, too.

lucas, nance, jonathan. all breathing. all fine.

Oh so we don’t say hi or hello in anons anymore? Ok cool 😅

I’m not doing whumptober (zero mental space for it right now), only the Ellipsus #spookysus prompts, so I’m making this a fun one.

*

Eddie was wheezing.

He could hardly breathe. He was leaning against the doorframe for support and worried that if he uncrossed his legs he might piss his pants.

He shouldn’t be laughing. He should be trying to fix his mistake an apologising profusely, he should most definitely not be wiping big fat tears from his eyes.

Steve, his dear beautiful blissfully-unaware-of-his-current-state boyfriend Steve, got a knock on the head earlier that morning and had some stitches put in. No big deal, no lasting damage, except maybe a scar through his eyebrow. Eddie assured him he’d look pretty badass but Steve, who had already been given a fairly hefty sedative on account of his fear of both hospitals and needles, thought the love of his life was admitting to not liking his butt.