ᴀɴᴅɪᴇ💥🤞🏼×͜×🏁❤️

Who is Eddie to judge what's tragic and what isn't when his life is the greatest example of how it can go from down to up and down again; repeat and whip out a slate that appears clean, but once you turn it, all the dirt and junk is going to be visible on the underside, sticking to it like glue?

After all, this town he loathes so much still hates him. Steve doesn't say it, because Eddie supposes he is a good guy like that, kind enough to spare him the agitation, but Eddie knows. The vitriol is there, no matter how far he is from the centre. It acts like a bomb, ready to blow in his face any time. Cause chaos. Destruction.

Eddie has been chewed on enough times to know his impact on his surroundings is limited to his ability to always find himself in the sketchy, questionable stuff, deep as mud, unable to get out. Sometimes it acts like quicksand, with the way things go from terrible to utterly abysmal in exactly a second’s notice. He hates that, but he has spent twenty not-so-precious years of his life figuring the world out, setting his foot on dried out soil, only to be whacked in the face not once, but multiple times by the cruel twist of fate. It’s safe to say Eddie knows by now that there is no getting out of quicksand, not even mud. He can’t be clean again, because that would be something he would have to give up his life for.

Not that he hasn’t already.

Truth is, he has given up almost everything he had. His sanity, his youth, his future – and present, because if it were up to him, he sure as hell would have packed up and made a run for California instead of spending his days rotting away in a dingy cabin in the middle of the forest. So Eddie has given up a lot. But most of all: himself.

Okay, okay, it might be a little more dramatic than it actually is. Well, except it isn’t, not really. The point Eddie is trying to make is that a lot has changed throughout the years he has known life, but a lot has gone down the drain the same way as well. It could have been mistaken for a badly written script someone accidentally lost, then another fucker found and published with some alteration. What a way to give ideas for the next generations.

“–re you?”

“Huh?” Eddie automatically answers before his brain even registers the owner of the voice.

Tearing his eyes away from the tip of the pencil that still floats above the paper, Eddie’s gaze lands on none other than Steve Harrington, standing in full glory and with his hands stuffed deep into his mustard members only jacket, looking as flawless as ever despite the late night hour.

The worst thing is that another presence didn’t even phase Eddie.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie frowns, then checks the grandfather near the wall. It’s almost ten thirty. “Aren’t you supposed to keep tabs on Squirt One and Two?”

Steve shrugs where he stands, a tiny pout on his lips, “Got dumped.”

“You?” Disbelief latches onto Eddie, because as much as the party can act like menaces, they surely wouldn’t make Steve scarce. Not Steve.

“Uh-huh,” Steve hums, devoid of any hurt.

That’s good, at least. Eddie would have given Dustin and El a talk if either of them treated Steve like garbage, although Eddie knows it’s less likely to happen with those two. But that one time when little Wheeler broke all hell loose just because Steve joined one session – which Eddie was incredibly proud of – proves that even among the kids you babysit there’s at least one meanie. Lightly put.

“How?” Eddie makes the mistake to push for further information. Judging by the soft grin Steve sends his way, it runs deeper than just ditching the cool older brother.

With practiced ease, Steve slides out of his shoes, places them by the front door – it barely is one with the tiny holes and torn hinges – and chooses the couch as his target to sit on. His leg lands a hairwidth away from touching Eddie’s, which Eddie pretends doesn’t freak him out.

“Apparently… This was some date.” Steve starts, frown and grin both pulling at his face. It’s endearing.

Eddie’s eyes bulge out of their sockets, breath stuck in his lungs, “A what.”

“A date,” Steve confirms, puffs out a small laugh when the picture finally clears out, “Didn’t even know I was going to be chauffeur until Henderson pulled El out of the car, no goodbye or anything. I was–”

“Used.” Eddie butts in, cutting Steve off, “That little shit. I’m going to murder hi–”

“Eds, no, gee, it’s okay.” A firm, calming hand lands on Eddie’s thigh, warm where palm meets his cotton clad leg, “Yeah, he used me to skip between point A and B, but El has the same problem you do.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to frown, because as far as he’s aware, Eleven has way less problems than she used to have. No creepy stepfather slash doctor, no bullies, found father, no running– “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Steve nods, giving Eddie this sweet, sugary smile he probably shouldn’t, because it causes Eddie to lose track of his thoughts, “I don’t mind. I’d rather know they are safe wherever they go on dates than getting a walkie.”

Steve has no idea, Eddie is sure, just how much he acts like a mom around the squirts. He would deny it, sworn on Dustin’s mother – although the term and who it belongs to might be questionable to define at this point – but Eddie catches these glimpses of it. When Steve gets immersed in a talk and he brings them up randomly, when they ask something from him and Steve is simply unable to tell them no, or when one of them pulls a stunt and while Steve actively gets annoyed and pushed until he sees red, he can’t really be mad long enough. Undoubtedly, if Hawkins’s golden boy loves, he loves deeply. That Eddie has learned throughout the months of recovery they had spent side by side.

Eddie places his pencil and notebook down on the coffee table – how long has he been holding those like an idiot? – and sighs. Deep. Dramatic. Just for a little flare to fill up this human shaped gaping hole inside his chest.

“You, big boy…” He trails off as he shakes his head, a secretive, fond grin forming on his lips. Thank god his hair keeps it hidden, “...are hopeless.”

Eddie feels Steve’s hand slip from his thigh. He tries to convince himself it doesn’t affect him.

“What? Why?” Steve snorts, getting comfortable.

When Eddie turns his head, Steve’s sitting cross legged next to him, the same, faux-offended grin he wears brighter than the sun ever could be. Eddie wants to write a song about it. Shit, he already has ideas flying around.

“Because if your motherly instincts were boppers, you’d be drowning as we speak.”

Steve makes a face, one that dances on the thin line between exasperation and amusement, “Hey, I love boppers!”

“Yeah, I know.” Eddie crows, fighting a laugh.

Apparently, he isn’t doing a great job at keeping it at bay, because the next thing he knows is Steve kicking him off the couch, not an ounce of shame following the foul move, not even when Eddie feigns being hurt, rubbing his ass where it hit the ground.

“You’re a monster! A gremlin! A true–” Something soft and puffy collides with his face, only fueling the amusement that threatens to overtake him.

“You done?” Steve asks, derisive.

Eddie whips his head up to pin Steve with a wild, gleeful look, the pillow Steve used to smother him with already held prepared in his hands, “Will you stop?”

“Depends.”

“On?” Eddie widens his eyes in return.

“If you stop.” Steve’s pointer extends towards Eddie’s lap, exactly where the pillow lays.

Eddie hums, pondering, “You know, for a king, your negotiation skills are in dire need of some refinement, because I’m not sure that’s how alliances are fo–”

“Shut up, you dick!” Steve grabs another pillow, lightning speed, and whacks it at Eddie, giggling away.

The sound of a wailing guitar could very well be Eddie’s favorite in the world, but hearing Steve laugh like that? Freely, as if Eddie was someone he could let his guard down around? That fucks with Eddie’s brain, and definitely makes him question whether guitars can ever sound better than joy pouring out of Steve Harrington, coating everything in pure sunlight in the middle of the night.

“Yield! Yield, I yield!” Eddie screams, using the other pillow to shield while rising to his knees. Inch by inch, but he crawls closer to Steve, makes use of the makeshift shield, “Your highness shall receive no harm nor I will showcase my extensive vocabulary! I solemnly swear!”

The gorgeous laugh only strengthens in both volume and intensity. Then, as a consequence, Steve lands a socked foot on Eddie’s stomach, and uses it to keep Eddie away, “You’re crazy.”

Eddie reaches out and circles his fingers around Steve’s ankle, tugs at it to gain advantage, but Steve is determined, because the foot doesn’t budge. Damn, Eddie knows he doesn’t stand a chance against jocks, but he sure as fuck won’t let Steve win. Not this one.

“What is it that you’re saying, sweetheart? This precious, life-saving cushion absorbs your angelic voice.”

“Fuck you!” Steve lets out a playful chuckle, giving Eddie a good shove.

Well, doesn’t Eddie dream about fucking Steve. As a matter of fact, not a day goes by when Steve isn’t on his mind, rendering him useless and unable to function. Sometimes it goes as far as staying in bed, rotting away until he hears the familiar rumble of the BMW and has to get his shit together, at rapid speed, before he blows the only good thing in his life all to pieces.

Sharp as a tack, Eddie takes advantage of Steve’s move by yanking at his leg, essentially pulling Steve closer and towards the edge of the couch. It goes without a hitch, suspiciously easy for Eddie’s liking, now that he thinks about it.

Either he is being played with, or his muscles just gained a weird amount of strength in the past two minutes. The latter is less likely to be the case – although there have been questionable things going on with this town for Eddie to be wary – so he settles with the first option.

“You didn’t pass out on me, did you, Harrington?”

Eddie can’t see shit of Steve’s face from behind the pillow, but he knows Steve is listening, in fact, pretty much alive and kicking, because the ankle held captive in his hand wiggles.

Suddenly, there’s movement right in Eddie’s face. The pillow he’s been using as a shield gets gently lifted and moved to the side, revealing the main attraction of the magic trick. Because it might as well be one with the way Steve makes a show of clearing the way, patient as ever.

Steve grins, but it’s softer around the edges. The curves around his eyes tone down to a gentle, mellow gaze. Eddie briefly compares it to honey, flowy and sweet and golden, the innocent, finished product of months of hard work. Then – because Eddie failed to notice the proximity despite being the one initiating it in the first place – Steve leans in, eyes trained on him like Eddie is a prey he needs to catch.

“Not so chirpy now, are you?”

Every single thought Eddie has flies right out the window and into the dark, autumn night, caught on color changing branches and shiny, white moonlight.

What the hell.

Eddie gulps despite the fear of sending the saliva that’s gathered in his mouth down the wrong pipe.

“I did swear I’d spare you.” He mutters, eyes twitching from trying so hard to keep them from flitting to Steve’s lips. Those – probably – plush, pink, juicy lips that accompany every nasty little daydream he has had about Steve.

Steve hums, long and satisfied, grin widening, “In that case, I’ll let this slide.”

In his head, Eddie is begging to be freed from the misery he is currently forced into. As much as Eddie downplays the effect that day has on him… this might live up to that experience, although under a different light, under different circumstances.

“Let what slide, exactly?” Eddie asks, bordering on losing his mind.

Because Steve still has a metaphorical grip on him, even when the only part of him that touches Eddie is his foot.

Steve is quiet for a moment, chest slowly expanding with each collected breath he takes. Not that Eddie is looking, that would be foolish and unadvised, “The shield.”

“Shield?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, confused.

What does Steve mean by letting the shield slide? What is he even talking about?

“Mmhmm,” Steve hums again, this time more at odds than before, yet his confidence remains weirdly present. He reaches out and swipes a finger down Eddie’s cheek, eyes following the movement, “One day.”

If Eddie didn’t feel anxious and ripped apart already, he would totally think he died when the bats chewed him out.

Before he could react to whatever this is that’s unfolding within arms reach, the moment is over. Steve smiles, and retreats, falling back against the couch, taking Eddie’s breath with him, too.

“There’s a full moon tonight. Wanna watch?”

The ease with which Steve offers such a mundane thing up has Eddie both want to rip his hair out and sag into this alternate reality his life has come to.

Truth is, Eddie hates the way his life turned out. The lack of contact with the world, the lack of opportunities, the lack of everything he used to have. But something about Steve has him question most of it, pushing him to have faith, at least while he has this. The people he cares about, the ones that got his back in return.

They all have scars not even time can heal, Eddie knows. They go bone deep, an everlasting reminder of a youth neither of them will get back. But learning might just lie in the different shapes they take up. Learning how to avoid quicksand, for example.

Maybe this is his way of finding the path back to himself, to the life he lost years ago, and months back, too.

Maybe he doesn’t even need to do it alone.

Because maybe things can take a turn for the better when you can share. The good. The bad. The ugly. But most importantly…

“My ears may deceive me, but are you, Steve Harrington, suggesting to do nerdy stuff?” Eddie smirks, fueling this newfound rush inside his chest.

Even at nearly 50 years old, he’s got one leg on Eddie’s shoulder, pushed almost to his own body. Eddie’s knees creak as he fucks into him hard, but Steve just closes his eyes and smiles. He loves this.

“You love this,” Eddie says, only slightly breathlessly. He’s been going to the gym a few times a week with Jeff, just to keep his body moving and muscles working. And so he can keep fucking Steve for as long as their bodies will allow. “Always have.”

“What? Getting fucked?” Steve grins up at him, wrinkles at his eyes crinkling. “You know I do.”

“Showing off. Trying to be better at this than me,” Eddie squeezes his hip as he slows for a moment. Not because he needs to, but because he wants this to last longer and it won’t if he keeps going like this. “Like you haven’t proven both of those things already.”

“Lot of talking for someone who’s supposed to be making me come.”

Eddie laughs. Steve reaches up into his recently buzzed hair.

“I miss it a little.”

Eddie keeps a slow rhythm, leaning down more when Steve doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the position.

“Me too. But it’s kinda nice not having so much of it,” Eddie reaches up to hold Steve’s hand against his head. He closes his eyes. “Change is good sometimes.”

“Now you sound like a fortune cookie,” Steve giggles. Even after so many years together, Eddie revels in making him laugh. Especially during sex. “But you look handsome like this. Might need to marry you all over again.”

“Yeah?” Eddie kisses him. He can’t help it. He really landed the hottest guy around, got to keep him around for all this time, got to marry him. Gets to fuck him, get fucked by him, do whatever he wants with him. “I could arrange that, sweetheart.”

“Might be ridiculous. We just did it a few years ago,” Steve curls his fingers and groans when Eddie hits his prostate. “I’ll do it if you want to.”

“I’d marry you every day,” Eddie ends his sentence on a moan. “You close enough?”

“Yeah, c’mon, love.”

At the other end of the yacht he can hear Jeff and his wife jumping into the crystal-blue water; Matty is sleeping off a hangover somewhere, and Eddie doesn’t want to know what Gareth and his girlfriend are up to. Neither of them have caught much sun.

They’ve spent a week in the Bahamas floating in the clearest, bluest waters Eddie has ever seen. They’re luminous, unnatural and utterly stunning. He never wants to leave.

The vacation is a retirement gift, a send off to him and one last hurrah as Corroded Coffin. It’s a goodbye to living in each other pockets for over a decade, to long months on the road, to exhaustion, to missing Steve and Wayne and the rest of their family.

It’s a goodbye to his time in Corroded Coffin, but not to theirs.

When they go back next week there will be a press release, Eddie will be leaving to spend more time with his family and the band will announce his replacement, a sweet kid name Brad. He’s amazing, Eddie handpicked him. Fans will be pissy for a while but they’ll get over it. Eddie’s heard some of the songs the boys have for the next album and it’s going to be their best yet. It will be the first Corroded Coffin album that he won’t have played on, and it stings. It’s going to be hard when it’s released, without his photograph on the back, hard to watch them on stage without him.

The boat sways, a gentle side to side motion.

He opens his eyes and tips his head back so he can look at Steve.

“Do you think this is what it feels like to sleep on a waterbed?”

Eddie feels the gentle movement of Steve’s thighs as he laughs.

“God, no. I’ve slept on a waterbed, they suck. This is nothing like that. And even if it were we would not be getting one, so get that out of your head right now. We’ve got two dogs pissing all over the place as it is, I don’t need to be mopping the bed, too. Jesus. Go back to sleep, no more thinking for you today.”

Steve leans forward and kisses him on the forehead, the perfect punctuation.

“Aye aye, captain.”

What they won’t get in the press release is the truth. Eddie’s surgeons did a great job on him back in 1986, they kept him alive for one thing. And he bounced back, all things considered. The body he was left with was fine for every day things - grocery shopping, walking the dog, cleaning the gutters - but it wasn’t up to a life as a touring musician. Day after day cooped up in a bus or plane, followed by hours on stage pushing himself to his limit, and beyond, and then night after night of lying like a pretzel in an uncomfortable bunk.

According to his doctors, your body can’t get by on prescription painkillers and steroid injections forever. It took years for him to believe them, and even that wasn’t enough. Medical professionals presenting him with MRIs, X-rays, CT Scans - lots of grainy bullshit that cost him thousands of dollars. Just give him the shot and fuck off.

But Steve telling him to stop? Steve who knows him better than himself? Well, it’s hard to say no to that. Didn’t mean he wasn’t pissy and mean about it afterwards, but then Eddie’s always hated being wrong.

He worries about money, they're not superstars. Still, he’s managed to buy a nice house and it’s all paid off, but he’s thirty-four and at some stage he’s going to need to think about an income. Dustin keeps talking about them opening a game store together.

“Hey,” Gareth calls out as he finally surfaces. “Do you think this is what waterbeds feels like?”

Eddie looks up at Steve with a mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers. “Yeah, I think this is exactly what they feel like.”

“Cool," Gareth says, as he wanders in Jeff's direction.

Steve laughs at him, fingers tugging gently at Eddie’s hair.

“You’re an asshole,” he laughs.

Eddie raises his hand and let’s it flop gently to his chest.

“Me?” he asks innocently.

“Yeah, you. Poor kid’s gonna spend an entire fucking royalty check on the biggest waterbed he can find in Los Angeles, and it’s your fault.”

“Well then he’ll learn a valuable lesson, won’t he?”

Even behind the Wayfarers Eddie can see the arch of an eyebrow.

“Oh, and what might that be?”

“Never interrupt Eddie when he has his head between a beautiful man’s thighs.”

They kiss again, and Steve’s fingers trace a line along the underside of Eddie’s jaw, before they slide down his throat, his chest, finally coming to a rest over Eddie’s heart. Eddie covers Steve's hand with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve only got three chapters left.”

Eddie sighs petulantly.

“Great. Can we carry on with—”

“I’ve only got three chapters left. And if you leave me alone for the rest of the day I’ll finish this book.”

Steve tilts his head, waiting patiently until the penny drops.

“Oh! Shit, yes read, read.”

Eddie closes his eyes and lets the gentle movement of the sea rock him back to sleep.

Eddie sighs, catching Wayne’s attention. He’s supposed to be at work but has somehow miraculously been given the night off, just out of the blue. Same thing happened last year, Wayne babysitting him like a toddler even though he’s a grown fucking man. He doesn’t need someone to sit and watch him all night, he needs to be left the fuck alone. Wayne doesn’t get it, and neither does Jeff, apparently.

“Who’s on tonight?” he asks, knowing it won’t make a single bit of difference.

“Uh, LA Guns. And don’t pull that face, they’re not that bad.”

“Yeah, well unless Kelly Nickels is climbing out of the TV and into my lap, I’ll pass.”

“Ew, dude.” 

“Eddie c’mon!” he hears Gareth shout in the background. “Stop being a pussy!”

“Firstly, tell Gareth I’m going to kick his ass next time I see him. Secondly…I am grateful for the effort, Jeffrey,” he says, biting back every last snarky comment that tries to claw it’s way out of his mouth. “But honestly, I just need a night to myself, you know?”

He hopes Wayne caught that too.

Eddie can hear the T.V. In the background, and Gareth and Matty arguing about something. For a second he thinks about grabbing his keys and heading on over to Jeff’s; he misses them, doesn’t spend enough time with them as it is, especially as he seems to have  something edging toward a love life now. But he’d be moody, at best, and that’s not fair on them, not when they’ve been nothing but patient and supportive over the last couple of years.

Eventually there’s a quiet “Sure, man, I get it,” and Eddie hangs up with a promise to swing by in the middle of the week. Things should be better then, his mind quieter. He doesn’t tell Jeff that, though.

Eddie considers doing exactly what he said he would, flaking out on the couch, but with Wayne there, hawk eyes upon him, he decides the relative peace of his bedroom is his best bet. He says goodnight, even though he knows they’ll both be awake for most of it. This is just one of those nights they have to fight their way through. At least there are fewer of them now.

He stops by the kitchen for a glass of water, and rifles through his little pill box, neatly set out, morning, noon, and night. There’s not as many as there used to be, which is something because he hates the powdery drag across his tongue and the way they stick in his throat no matter how much water he drinks. Tonight he adds a sleeping pill and prays he doesn’t dream.

Eddie pokes his head into the living room.

“I’m heading to bed,” he says.

Wayne gives him a little nod. “Didn’t want to see your show tonight?”

He shrugs in reply. “Just tired. And I didn’t feel like driving all the way over to Jeff’s.”

“Alright. Well, you go on then, get your beauty sleep.”

A little laugh escapes him. “Fuck you.” 

He’s about to turn and head down the hallway of their little house, but something stops him, and before he can even think about what he’s doing, he crosses the living room and throws his arms around Wayne. He feels the embarrassing prickle of tears.

“I love you,” he says, but it’s muffled into Wayne’s shirt, and Wayne’s hearing is all fucked up from the plant. But he feels a large hand on the back of his head, holding him closer, hears the soft “Love you too,” and it nearly pushes him over the edge so he breaks the hug quickly, mumbles goodnight and heads back to his room.

He’s got about an hour before the Restoril kicks in so he washes up and gets out of his jeans and climbs into bed with a book, praying for sleep to come fast tonight.

He’s only been in bed for ten minutes before there’s a soft knock on his door and before he can tell Wayne he’s okay, Steve steps into his room, and closes the door behind him.

“I swung by Jeff’s. Not feeling it tonight, huh?”

“Not really.”

Steve kicks his sneakers off, shucks his jeans and climbs under the blankets with Eddie. He takes the book from Eddie’s hands, carefully places the bookmark, and puts it on the nightstand, and then he opens his arms for Eddie to fall into them.

“I’m dreading tomorrow. How stupid is that?”

“I don’t think it’s stupid at all. You died, Eddie. That’s a big fucking deal. I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you get over in a couple of years.”

He feels the kiss to the top of his head, the extra squeeze pulling him tighter. 

“I’ll be here with you tomorrow, okay? We’ll just…chill out, watch TV. Whatever you need.”

He marvels at how the world took so much but gave him something wonderful in return.

“Why did you go to Jeff’s? You don’t even like Headbangers Ball.”

“No, but I like this headbanger’s balls, and I was hoping to get a look at them tonight.”

Eddie laughs and slaps him on the chest. It’s been a rough couple of years, it’s going to be a rough couple of days, but at least he has this.

Lucky for me - there was an episode of Headbangers Ball on Saturday 26th March 1988. I love it when the stars align!

Steve wraps his arms around him from behind, kissing his neck and then his shoulder, resting his nose against his pulse.

“You should come to bed, babe,” he whispers.

He’s right. He’s barely slept for days, and getting into bed and cuddling up to Steve will help his morose mood. It’s just that he’s twitching to grab his guitar and write something. He’s dying to get in his van and drive to Gareth’s house a mile up the road and come up with a new plan that’s doomed to fail. It’s a habit now, one that’s going to take a while to break now that they aren’t a band anymore. Not officially, anyway.

“Eddie? You okay?” Steve asks, voice louder now, laced with concern. He picks his head up, but Eddie quickly reaches back to tug him back into place.

“Don’t let go,” Eddie tells him. “Stay.”

And because Steve is an angel, and Eddie doesn’t deserve him, he does. He doesn’t ask any questions or try to say anything to make him feel better. He doesn’t push him towards the bed to try to make him sleep. He just holds him.

Eventually, Eddie turns in his arms and cups his face, kissing the corner of his mouth and giving him a small smile.

“Can I play you something?” Eddie asks.

Steve grins. “Always.”

He plays for a while. Too long, going off the yawns Steve tries to hide after a few songs. He’s slowly sinking down into the bed while Eddie strums and hums, occasionally pausing to write in his notebook.

Eddie plays until Steve’s asleep, light snores coming from where he has his face buried in the pillow. When he looks up, he finally notices Steve wearing his cropped Corroded Coffin shirt.

It makes him cry. He’s quiet about it, not wanting to wake Steve and see that worried look on his face again.

He wishes things turned out better for them. He wishes that Steve was visiting him on tour instead of sleeping in a trailer he promised he’d never come back to. He wishes he could say he accomplished what he set out to do, just one time.

—

He writes songs often, but the inspiration isn’t there. It’s harder without Gareth banging on his drums, trying to find any beat that works with the melody Eddie has in his head. They could try Gareth coming up with a beat first, but that’s just not how they do things.

How they did things.

Eddie looks around the record shop. He doesn’t mind this job. The owner’s pretty cool, knows a lot about every genre of music. He plays guitar and bass, too. Sometimes on payroll days, he sets aside some time to jam with Eddie after they lock up.

It’s fun as far as minimum wage, unskilled labor goes.

Jeff comes by every Friday when he’s done with his classes, flips through the new releases, even if he doesn’t like the artists. He just likes shooting the shit with Eddie. They’ve always been like that. Even when they argued about band stuff, they’d find common ground with something else.

Gareth practically lives at the trailer on Sundays, a desperate attempt to escape his own house. His grandparents visit every Sunday and turn it into a miserable place. Eddie doesn’t mind. Steve gives them space for hours before he usually yells for them to come eat. He always gives Gareth a long hug before he leaves, like he knows that Gareth’s grieving, too.

Frankie mostly makes Eddie come to him, but he doesn’t mind. He knows it’s because he had a falling out with his parents and doesn’t want to step foot back in Hawkins if he can help it. He’ll go wherever he has to to see his friend.

But it’s tough not getting together anymore. He wishes they could all just hang out, not as a band, without the pressure, without the commitment. He wants them to be friends again, real friends.

He just doesn’t know how to make that happen.

—

“Cake is in the oven. Wayne will be here in ten to help me set up the tables and chairs. Robin’s got beer. Don’t ask me how,” Steve shakes his head as he runs down his checklist for Eddie’s birthday party. “Dustin might be late. Said he’s bringing his girlfriend and she takes forever to do her hair.”

“Sounds familiar,” Eddie teases, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and kissing his neck. “You want any help?”

“It’s your birthday, you’re not allowed to help.” Steve turns to kiss his cheek. “You should go get changed, though. Pretty sure Gareth said he was coming early to avoid his grandma asking if he’d found a wife yet.”

“But he doesn’t even have to lie anymore!” Eddie groans, throwing his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. You wanna help me?”

“You don’t need my help to get dressed,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“But I could use help with…other things…” Eddie wiggles his brows and winks. “You said for my birthday we could-“

“I know what I said. I meant after your party,” Steve’s face is bright red as he looks back down at his list. “Plus, I’m not wearing that under these clothes. I’ve got too much to do still.”

Eddie smacks a kiss to his lips and rushes off to get ready for his party.

Everyone’s coming.

Even Frankie.

It’s not the first time they’ve all been together since the band broke up, but it’s the first time it’s happening under Eddie’s roof. It feels like there’s more potential for something to go wrong here.

It’s the biggest party he’s ever had for himself, but 30 is a big number according to everyone who cares about him. There’s a cake that Steve made sitting on the table surrounded by cards and gifts from everyone who loves him.

Jeff, Gareth, and Frankie are all standing together on the porch. They’re not arguing as far as Eddie can tell.

He joins them hoping it stays that way.

“There’s the birthday guy!” Jeff slaps his shoulder, nearly spilling the soda in his cup when he does. “Heard we’re cutting the cake in a few minutes.”

“Yeah, Steve’s got a pretty strict schedule for that apparently,” Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. He’s never been much for a schedule, but it makes Steve happy and he’s a big fan of that. “Enjoying the party? Need anything?”

Gareth snorts. “It’s your party. We don’t need you to take care of us.”

“I know, but-“ Eddie freezes. He swallows back the sudden lump in his throat.

The final thing, the one thing out of the millions of things that ruined their band, was no doubt that Eddie could be a little overbearing and overprotective about them. He wanted things to work so badly. He pushed on things he shouldn’t have because he thought it was best for all of them. He turned down things that the others wanted to do because he thought it wouldn’t be right for their sound. He fought with Frankie to protect Gareth, he fought with Gareth to protect Jeff. He fought with Steve to protect all of them.

In the end, he tried to be too in control.

Happens to all the greats, right? It’s just not a good story when you aren’t great first.

“I know.” He says again. He gives them a smile before he rushes off to find Steve. They don’t stop him. He’s sure his realization was written all over his face.

When he finds Steve, he’s pacing the kitchen floor, Wayne trying to calm him down about something quietly. It’s a bit unnerving for a birthday party, especially when everyone’s outside.

“Steve?”

Steve’s head snaps up and over to Eddie, eyes widening comically. Wayne mumbles something about idiots and walks out the back door to rejoin the party.

“Hey. Everything okay? Cake in a few minutes,” Steve says, plastering on a fake smile. Eddie steps closer, watching the way Steve’s hands are shaking as he tries to shove them in his pockets.

“I’m good. Are you okay?” Eddie cups the side of his neck, searching his face for any other clues about what could possibly be wrong. Could he be sick? He mentioned a headache yesterday, but he seemed fine this morning.

“I’m good! I promise,” Steve reaches up to wrap his fingers around his wrist, smile changing to something more comforting and real. “Are you happy?”

The question isn’t entirely unusual, but it still makes Eddie worry again.

“Of course I am. You brought everyone I love together and made my favorite cake. And we’ve got naked plans tomorrow. How could I not be?” Eddie tries to push his worry away as Steve leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

It’s probably nothing. Steve’s a bit worried that the weather won’t hold up for them and he doesn’t want everyone in the house, so maybe that’s what he’s so riled up about. Wayne was probably just offering to help bring stuff inside if the storms start earlier than they’re supposed to.

“Good. That’s all I want,” Steve kisses him again before he leads Eddie back outside.

He brings him over to the cake and yells for everyone to come sing. He didn’t think people did that for adults, but he goes along with it because it’s entertaining watching a bunch of mostly tone deaf adults try to sing together. He’s beaming by the end, almost forgetting he needs to blow out the candles until Steve nudges his arm.

When he blows them out and turns, Steve’s not there.

Well, he is there.

He’s just not standing up.

He’s on one knee, holding a very simple silver band. Everyone around them is quiet.

“I knew you weren’t just throwing a birthday party!” Eddie laughs, leaning down to tug Steve up off his knee. It’s his bad knee, because he’s an idiot. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Let me say this.”

Eddie grins at him. “Carry on.”

“I know life’s been different than what you wanted. You hoped to be the next big rock star and it didn’t work out. You didn’t wanna stay in Hawkins. You probably didn’t even think you’d end up with me, but here we are,” everyone laughs as Steve smirks. “I think we’ve got a pretty great thing going here. Even when it’s not perfect, and when we still hope for more, we’re together. That’s enough for me. And I’m hoping that maybe that’ll be enough for you, too. We can’t file the papers to make it legal, but Wayne’s already got a speech ready for us to get married right here in this backyard someday if you say yes.”

Eddie wipes a stray tear from his cheek. “You have to ask me first.”

“What?” Steve’s brows raise before he realizes. “Oh. Right. Eddie, will you please spend forever with me? Wherever that may lead us?”

“Yes. Of course I will. I’d follow you anywhere.”

Everyone cheers. They kiss. It’s like a movie if movies ever showed the kind of love they have.

“Best birthday ever?” Gareth claps him on the back. His girlfriend is standing off to the side. She looks like she was crying. “Guess that puts more pressure on me, huh?”

“Guess so. Surprised you needed any,” Eddie jokes, turning to give him a hug. “Surprised she’s waited this long.”

“I’ve got a way with my hands, what can I say?”

Jeff playfully shoves him and fake gags. “Sure you do. Congrats, Eddie. Steve’s been stressed about this for months.”

Eddie turns to see Wayne hugging Steve close, patting his back.

“He should’ve known I’d say yes,” Eddie smiles fondly as he turns back to them.

“He’s just worried about tying you down for real,” Frankie says as he steps closer. “You’ve never been much for staying in one spot forever.”

“I don’t mind if it’s with him,” Eddie admits. He’s not even lying.

Saying yes doesn’t really change anything for them. They’ll wear rings, have a little ceremony in their backyard, maybe they’ll refer to each other as husbands with their friends. But they’ve already been living together for years, seen each other through so much. They make plans together, they pay bills together, they struggle and win together.

He doesn’t think he’d have that if he had become a rock star. Sure, Steve supported him while he tried. He probably would’ve stuck around for a while if they’d made it. But who knows what would’ve happened a year down the road. Two.

There’s a million reasons why things didn’t work out for the band.

"It's freezing," Steve says, disgruntled. Wiggling on the newly filled mattress, making Eddie jiggle on the other side of the bed as he rides the wave of Steve's movements. "It's like it's leeching all my body heat."

"There's a heater underneath! Give it a chance to work!" 

"Uh, yeah," Steve says, sounding unconvinced. 

"In the meantime let's get this baby rocking!" Eddie shouts, giving it a hard smack. "Let's put some motion in the ocean."

"I'm having second thoughts," Steve says. 

"About the waterbed?" Eddie asks, feeling a little crestfallen.

"About you," Steve retorts dryly, and Eddie cackles. 

He knows better. 

"C'mon. Blowing off some of this steam will do you good. 

"I'm not laying my back on that cold ass plastic."

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

"I'll bottom, c'mon," Eddie says. Tucking his knees upwards.

"Oh, great, so I have to find leverage against this thing to do all the work? I get to drive my knees into the bottom frame? Sounds fun."

Eddie laughs. Steve's awfully high maintenance today.

"You can sit on my dick, I'll do the work."

Steve still looks displeased. But he caves. "Fine."

It's a rough ride.

Eddie's trying to thrust up into him, and they're just getting battered around. Up and down, and side-to-side. A rhythm is impossible to maintain. 

It's like they are playing tug-of-war. And not in a good way, as both of them try to strong-arm the rhythm, the pace, and aren't very successful. Steve's huffing, annoyed, and Eddie's just gripping his hips, trying to get them in sync. It might be impossible.

They have good sex. That's never been a problem.

This? This might be a problem.

"Just stop moving!" Steve finally snaps, and Eddie stills his movements immediately.

"Yes, sir," Eddie snarks, and Steve places a hand in the center of Eddie's chest, and rolls his hips. Gently. Testing the waters, literally. The wave starts, but this time it's a softer roll towards the head of the bed and back down. Steve tilts his pelvis up, testing another small movement, and well, that's nice, too. 

Steve catches the wave on the way back and shifts with it. Grinding down on Eddie's cock.

Oh. 

It's free momentum. That's the secret. They've gotta move with the natural coasting motion the bed is making, not try to jackhammer it to their will.

Steve is figuring it out in real time. Eddie can see it all over his face as he concentrates. Eddie shouldn't be surprised. This is Steve's wheelhouse. The mechanics of movement. Eddie just stomps and flails and scampers through life.

Steve gives another roll, a light moan escaping from his parted lips.

"Okay," he crows with a grin, "I've got it now. Go with the flow."

"Did you piss the bed again?" Steve mutters, voice thick, full of sleep.

"That was one time and I was blackout drunk. You were there. Did you piss the bed?"

Steve makes an annoyed noise, and Eddie knows he's skating on thin ice at — 2:23 in the morning — while Steve's ass is wet.

"It's leaking," Steve says, stating the obvious.

"Are you sure it's not from you?" Eddie asks.

And the noise Steve makes is enough to wake Eddie fully.

"I might be leaking, but if it's down on the side of my thigh, we've got problems," Steve says, haughtily.

"Gotcha," Eddie says, rolling carefully out of the bed, and onto his feet as Steve sloshes around, following.

"It says to apply the patch while it's dry," Eddie says, holding up the instructions of the ancient waterbed patch kit that came with it. The overhead light is blinding at this time of night. Hostile, even.

Steve wipes the bladder with the towel again, and more water bubbles up. If looks could kill, Eddie would be dead.

"Well, that's easier said than fucking done," Steve snaps. If he doesn't get his eight hours of beauty sleep he's a fucking bear, and this has already taken the better part of an hour. 

"Maybe we need to drain it."

Steve throws the towels down, hands finding his hips, "Do you know how many gallons of water are in this thing? We aren't draining it!"

Eddie holds his hands up, conceding.

"Just fucking help me. I'm gonna force this part upwards. You wipe it dry, then apply that godforsaken patch. Got it?"

"I got it," Eddie says, and Steve nods, trying to wrangle the heavy, vinyl waterbed mattress. Wrestling it. It looks impossible to move, it's so heavy. But, Steve places a knee beneath the spot of the hole strategically, forcing the spot with a hole up as high as he can, grabbing a slick fistful around it, shoving upwards.

"Now!" Steve yells, and Eddie springs into action. Drying the pinhole twice, just to make sure, and then sticking the patch down. 

Steve lets go, and the mattress flaps back towards the sides of the bed frame with a thwack. Jiggling as it settles back into shape. Steve leans back on his haunches.

"Did it work?" Eddie asks, and Steve gets up, shedding his damp underwear, putting on a dry pair.

"Guess we'll find out," Steve says, "but you're sleeping on that side now."

Well, that seems fair.

Steve had been out in the sun all day, lathered in sunscreen at Robin's behest. Happy to lounge around in the heat, like the animal he was.

Max, Nancy, and Robin had laid out beside him for hours like a handful of grapes for the California Raisins company.

Eddie had spent the day in and out of the pool with the younger Hellfire members and their- rather extended -friend group. Intermittently, he had run over with a random hey, Steve and a quickly and utterly awkward retort.

Oddly enough, Steve had eaten it up. 

Even though only the band and Steve remained, Steve had laid out on his lounger long after the sun went down.

Eddie had changed into clothes sometime around the time Henderson and everyone else went home.

“You think he’ll ever say anything?”

Freak shook his head. “Maybe Harrington-”

“No way,” Jeff interrupted. “He’s wound too tight. Eddie’s got looser lips than Deep Throat.”

Freak raised a brow.

“Yeah, you know what I meant.”

“Maybe we could get Eddie drunk-”

“Whatever you're about to talk him into-” Gareth said, taking a seat between them. He popped the cap open on another beer before taking a sip. “No.”

Jeff glanced over at Freak, grinning.

“Hey! Wait!” Eddie screamed from the other side of the pool. He laughed, clinging to Steve as he was held at the edge of the pool, arms wrapped around Steve’s neck. Feet firmly off the ground. “Put me down!” he laughed, fingers digging into Steve’s shoulder.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Freak grumbled.

“Insane,” Jeff said. “Both of them.”

“They're unbelievable,” Gareth agreed.

Steve flashed Eddie a grin before taking a step forward.

Confusion and then panic flashed over Eddie's face before the rising water level swallowed them whole.

“You want a beer?” Gareth mumbled, reaching into the cooler behind him.

“No,” Freak said, taking another drag. “Actually,” he said, exhaling a plume of smoke that flew off away from them. “You know what? Yeah, why not?”

Eddie surfaced with a gasping breath as Gareth passed Freak his beer. “You're a jackass,” Eddie screamed, treading towards the stairs. His hair lay over his eyes, making him look like a wet dog.

“Oh, come on!” Steve laughed, following after him. He managed to beat Eddie out of the water running after a towel.

Eddie waved him off when he got closer. “Fuck you and your towel, Harrington!”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“After taking me for a swim?” Eddie asked sarcastically. “Why I have half a mind-” He cut himself off, charging towards the house.

“Where’re you going?”

“To take a nap in your bed. I'm not changing by the way!”

Wordlessly, Steve chased after him. 

When Eddie realized he had a tail, he took off. Unfortunately, Eddie was no match for the track star that was Steve Harrington. 

The boys sighed, turning away.

No one flinched when Eddie screamed before breaking into laughter again.

“Think we can talk Steve into S’mores?” Gareth asked. “You know, after they spend way too much time changing and come back acting all secretive and shy?”

Freak huffed. 

“Definitely,” Jeff said.

They all sipped on their beers.

"Dustin. For the last time," Steve groans. "Read my fucking lips, dude: I am not going on a blind date with your girlfriend’s sister."

"She’s only in town with Suzie for the weekend," Dustin wheedles, also not for the first time. "So if you don’t feel any sparks, it’s no pressure! Nothing like that time I tried to set you up with my RA, I promise."

Eddie drops his head back on the top of the couch with a thunk. Ah yes, Melanie the RA, the pretty blonde girl who moons aggressively after Steve every time they visit Dustin’s campus and has thus unfortunately limited their visits. Someday someone is going to find a lock of Steve’s hair in her desk drawer, or perhaps a shrine to Steve in her closet, and Eddie won’t be the least bit surprised.

"Eden used to date Argyle," Steve tries. "I wouldn’t steal a friend’s girl."

"Uh," Will chimes in, raising a hand like he’s in fucking class or something. "Argyle’s got this whole 'free love' approach to dating, so… probably not a huge concern."

"And dude, it’s Argyle," Dustin says. "He’s the chillest guy ever, he won’t mind. You know, you could really stand to learn a thing or two from him."

"Still," Steve says loudly, looking with a pained expression between Dustin, Will, and Eddie. "I don’t want to… I wouldn’t do that."

"Steve, it’s fine! I’ll get Argyle on the phone right now and he’ll tell you it’s fine!"

"You can’t just call people whenever—"

"Yeah I can, he said I could and he always answers. Well, unless he can’t find the phone, but—"

"Dustin, quit it! I’m not doing it!"

He’s going to. Eddie knows he’s going to because Steve always does; the kids know it too. The thing is, though, even after years of this Eddie still isn’t quite sure if Steve knows that he’s going to. If each time he genuinely tells himself he’s gonna put his foot down this time, or if it’s a courtesy to Eddie for having to watch it happen over and over again, token protest that keeps getting rehashed.

II.

Two days later Steve is on the date and Eddie is face-down on the bed they share in their two-bedroom-for-appearances-sake apartment above Melvald’s. He wants to kick and scream a little bit, but what’s the point?

Four years ago he and Steve had talked it out and agreed not to tell the kids, and there had been plenty of reasons at the time. This thing between them had still been new. They’d been coming off telling Robin (fine but she made fun of them for taking so long to get their shit together) and telling Eddie’s band mates (weird and uncomfortable, not because of the gay thing but because of King Steve). And the kids were… well, okay at keeping secrets, but Erica had told them how transparent Dustin and Lucas had been under police questioning in ‘85 and that might not have cut it if any serious homophobes had started sniffing around.

Hawkins had learned to grudgingly accept wrongfully accused not-actual-murderer-or-cultist Eddie Munson, but if he turned out to be a confirmed fag? Or if they found out about Steve, and him working at the middle school as the a gym teacher and local kiddie league coach? The best possible outcome would’ve been getting run out of town.

But.

But but but.

With the kids off at college, they're not as firmly rooted in Hawkins as they used to be. Steve could get a job at a different school in a more accepting area. Eddie has experience as a mechanic and as a bartender now, and people needed both of those pretty much anywhere. Robin and Nancy are in Massachusetts, Northampton and Boston respectively. Jon and Argyle are "splitting the difference" between New York and California by moving to Oregon, apparently. Jeff and Gareth are currently still on the Midwest but thinking Los Angeles; they keep clamoring for Doug and Eddie to hitch onto that plan, even if they still don't seem wild about getting Steve in the bargain.

So Eddie and Steve are this close to leaving Hawkins, probably—they haven’t talked about it yet, or at least nothing concrete—and the kids still don’t know. Robin came out to everyone last year, and there's Will… It's not like any of them will take it badly. But at this point it’s almost more daunting to admit to hiding it for so long than the actual telling them.

Four years. And Eddie is still lying here doing the Very Adult version of plucking petals from a daisy while chanting "he likes me, he likes me not."

Because Steve is only half gay—or bisexual, whatever—and that doesn’t mean he can’t pick a side but it does mean that he has options. Eddie saw the picture of Eden: dark hair, dark clothes, eyeliner, he’d even spotted a few patches and pins on her jacket that he has on his own. She’s cool, or Argyle never would’ve held out for a whole six months before long distance did to them what Dustin and Suzie seem weirdly immune to. She has a big family (like Steve’s always wanted) that she’s still keeps in touch with (the way Steve’s parents have never bothered to), and doesn’t come from a trailer park like Eddie or have any kind of rap sheet. Hell, she’s just similar enough and at the same time just different enough that Steve might actually be trading up if he decides to… If the date goes well.

Maybe she wouldn’t even steal the covers, or put the milk carton back in the fridge when it’s only got a dribble left inside, or blow their extra money on a really cool and unique dragon figurine that the local game shop finally got in on back order. Maybe she and Steve would have really cute kids and a house with a picket fence and an official master bedroom. Maybe—

The phone rings, and it’s fine. It’s fine! Eddie needed to stop wallowing anyway.

~

Steve checks his watch for the third time in ten minutes and feels his date’s eyes on him, fuck. He always tries so hard not to be rude on these dates but it’s so… uncomfortable. Like trying to fit back into an outgrown suit.

No, literally: his date night jeans are definitely getting a bit too tight. Has it really been that long since he’s taken Eddie out? They can’t afford it often, but sometimes when their work schedules line up for a entire weekend free they drive out to Indy and hit this one gay club they can both agree on, music-wise. Except the last time they’d tried to go it had been closed, and they don’t know if it’s permanent this time, and it’s a long drive, so… Yeah it’s been a while. Shit.

He makes a mental note to do something to rectify that soon, then sucks it up and jumps back into small talk with Eden. She seems nice enough, but he can't wait to get home.

III.

It’s Steve and Eddie’s housewarming party in Chicago with all of their friends visiting from out of town. (Except for Erica, who sent a disgruntled letter about age discrimination against people who are still in high school and whose parents won’t let them joyride to Illinois just whenever. When they arrived it was already in their mailbox.)

Everything is going great (aside from Eddie’s bandmates still being kind of awkward sand standoffish) until Steve half-hears his name across the room and looks up to see Dustin going a mile a minute in excitement about something to Eddie. Which is fine, until he catches a glimpse of Eddie’s profile and realizes his boyfriend is practically wilting. It’s subtle, but Steve knows the man’s tells and he hasn’t seen Eddie this braced since the last time they had to fight the Upside Down.

Steeling himself, Steve walks over and just catches, "—been letting himself of go a bit lately, but he just needs someone to look after him, you know? So I was thinking—"

"Hey!" Steve barks, hands on his hips, and he’s barely even aware of the entire room turning to look. "Stop telling my boyfriend he’s not taking good care of me, Henderson!"

Dustin whips around to gape at him, and Steve realizes what he’s just done. How he’s unceremoniously outed them in front of everyone. His eyes fly to Eddie, who he’s sure is going to be shocked or aghast at him making this important decision for the both of them, or even embarrassed because who wants to be known for dating a guy who peaked in high school—

But Eddie is beaming. There are fucking tears in his eyes he looks so happy. Behind him, Robin is giving Steve two huge thumbs up from across the room.

Gareth, who until now would barely give him the time of day, claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder and says loud into the ringing silence, "About time, Harrington."

Oh. Oh, so that’s why they’ve never liked him. That… makes a lot of sense.

"That’s my boyfriend," Steve breathes, holding out a hand that Eddie immediately takes, draws him close, and dips him for a kiss. The kind of dramatic, lovey shit he’s been dying to do for forever but couldn’t in Hawkins. Robin and Eddie had both drilled into him how unsafe that would be and it’s been a boundary he’d accepted long enough ago that he’d sort of forgotten it could be crossed again.

But they’re not in Hawkins anymore. They’re not in Hawkins anymore and Steve is kissing his boyfriend with tongue in front of all their closest friends, to a chorus of whoops and cheers and whistles that even Dustin, recovering from the surprise, is starting to join in on.

Steve finally told the kids, No, look, I love Eddie Munson, and he’s never going to stop.

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