stranger things-centric sideblog of @drwatsonsjournal (follows and likes from that acct). they/them, bi/pan/whatevz. gen x. @steviebats5ever on twitter 🖤🦇🖤 my tag #steddie kisses my art
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If someone told Steve a few years ago that he would regularly lift Eddie Munson into his arms, he would have advised the poor soul to take a long vacation at Pennhurst.
But here he is, holding Eddie against the humming fridge in his dark kitchen, fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs, with not a single inch of space between their bodies, Eddie's wide, dark eyes fixed on his.
"Two is a coincidence..." Eddie mutters, licking his lips, letting the rest of the sentence dwindle out as Steve's eyes fall shut.
It all starts here:
A hot summer day, them sitting on the lounge chairs next to the pool in nothing but swimming trunks, nursing two cold Coke bottles, when Steve notices something off with Eddie.
"What happened to you, man?" He points his bottle at Eddie's ribs, the large purple bruise on his pale skin enough to have him wince in sympathy. Eddie looks down at himself, then flushes, a pretty pink spreading across his sternum, climbing along his throat and into his cheeks.
"Oh, this?" he asks, sheepishly. "Just a little accident."
"What kind of accident?"
"Just, you know..." Eddie shrugs, turns his head away from Steve, hiding the heat in his face.
Steve frowns at him, unsatisfied with the non-answer. Then, it dawns on him.
"You mean that happened during...?"
Eddie blushes even harder if that's possible. Steve's never seen him like this. He's normally so shameless, flaunting his opinions loud and proud.
"Yeah, Steve, it happened during dot dot dot. Satisfied?"
Steve is, and he isn't. Because how would you even get bruised like that during sex? Unless...
"Did somebody do that to you? Like on purpose?" Does Steve have to drive all the way up to Indy to beat up one of Eddie's hookups?
"No, nothing like that." Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his face. "I fell."
"You fell?" Steve looks down at his Coke bottle. "You fell from what?"
Eddie thumps his head back against the chair, eyes rising towards the sky like he's praying for patience. "From the hot guy's arms I was in, okay?"
Steve chokes on the sip of Coke, he was just about to swallow. "You mean you had sex while standing up?"
"Not exactly sex," Eddie says and shakes his head. "Just making out, I guess."
"Somebody made out with you while lifting you up?" The words feel weird in Steve's mouth, tacky, as if they should have stayed glued to his palate.
"Seems impossible, right? Should've known it could only end in disaster," Eddie laughs. "It was hot in the moment, though. Before he let me fall, and I hit the dresser next to us. Being worried that I might've fractured a rib was kinda a mood killer. Don't think we'll see each other again."
"It's not impossible," Steve remarks, before he can think better of it. "I made out lifting the other person up before. Multiple times."
If possible, the heat in Eddie's cheeks burns even brighter now. Is he getting sunburned? Steve should probably get out the aloe for him later.
"With girls. It's not the same."
"I could easily lift your bony ass, Munson."
Eddie stares at him with raised brows, then scoffs. "Sure, Harrington."
Steve feels his fingers itch with the desire to prove himself, but before he can act on the impulse, Eddie's up and jumps into the pool, splashing water all over Steve's shins.
Steve's determined not to let it drop.
The first time he gets the opportunity is a few nights later when they hang out at the Munson trailer. They climb on top of the roof to split a joint between them, smoking and talking about nothing and everything, about their days, about their friends, about their random shower thoughts.
He likes that about Eddie, how easy things are with him. Eddie's one of those friends who can go on long tirades about the constraints of society, but he never judges Steve, even when they disagree. It's new for Steve, too, to hang out with someone who doesn't think his thoughts and ideas are stupid, even when he tries to estimate how many slices of pizza he's eaten in his lifetime.
So, when he finally jumps off the trailer's roof, a little higher and a little more giggly than before, and Eddie looks down from where he's sitting, worrying his lower lip, Steve doesn't hesitate to open his arms for him.
"Was this always this high?" Eddie asks, and Steve can't help but laugh.
"C'mon, Munson, I've got you."
Eddie doesn't look entirely convinced, so Steve adds, "I would never let you fall, promise."
Next thing he knows, Eddie pushes off the edge of the trailer. Steve catches him around the middle, Eddie's hands landing on his shoulder, fingers digging deep into his flesh.
Steve looks up at him with a happy chuckle, says, "See?" and Eddie's eyes get all wide and startled. He looks kinda pretty, Steve thinks while he keeps Eddie lifted off the ground for a moment longer, what with that star-sprinkled sky behind him.
Then he slowly lowers Eddie down on his feet, showing off his muscles and proving he can indeed lift Eddie without making him fall, even if only for a moment.
They don't talk about it afterwards. Just head inside, cook mac and cheese from the box.
The second time it happens, Eddie's drunk on Steve's couch. They made cocktails with the contents of his parents' liquor cabinet and exotic juices Robin brought from the store while watching Rocky Horror. Steve's not a big fan of sticky-sweet alcohol, so he's mostly stayed faithful to his beer and is thus the only one relatively sober among the three of them.
Robin's already headed up to crash in the guestroom, but Eddie's apparently content with falling asleep right here, in his uncomfortable clothes, without washing up.
"C'mon, Ed, get up," Steve groans, trying to pull him into a standing position by his arm.
"Just leave me here," he grumbles, "don't wanna move."
"Ah, ah," Steve chastises him. "We don't skip the bedtime routine in the Harrington household. You had a lot of sugar, so you have to brush your teeth. Either get your ass up yourself, or I'll carry you to the bathroom."
"Yeah," Eddie laughs, slumps down even further. "As if."
Steve leans down before he can rethink his decision, guiding Eddie's arms around his neck, then sliding one hand below his thigh, and the other around his middle, holding on fast. He lifts him up and into his arms with a grunt, jostling him up and resettling his grip by holding onto both of his thighs.
Eddie's not exactly heavy, but his drunken wobbliness makes it a bit of a challenge to carry him up the stairs to the second floor, still.
"What the fuck, Harrington?" he mumbles into Steve's shoulder, arms curled tight around Steve's neck. Steve turns his head, inhales Eddie's musk- tobacco, and something a little more spicy- tries to ignore the demanding beat of his own heart.
He kicks open the door to his bathroom, sets Eddie on top of the marble countertop, then searches for the spare toothbrush under the sink. He wets it under the tap, then squeezes a bit of toothpaste onto it and hands it to Eddie, who looks at it as if Steve just handed him a weird insect.
Steve ignores his skeptical look in favor of brushing his own teeth, then hands Eddie a cup of water to rinse his mouth. There's no logical reason for Steve to lift Eddie in his arms again afterward, besides wanting to do so.
Eddie curls around him like a koala, not even questioning Steve's motives anymore, holds on like he never wants Steve to let him go. Steve's stomach flips when one of Eddie's hands buries inside his hair at the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his strands, one of his rings snatching on a stand, the sharp pain enough for Steve to have to suppress a moan.
He puts Eddie on his bed before he does something he will regret later, tosses some clean sweatpants at him, then goes downstairs to clean up the total mess Robin and Eddie left in his kitchen. When he comes back, Eddie is already asleep, face pressed into Steve's pillow, like he's trying to soak up every bit of Steve's scent.
It gets a little more complicated for Steve after that. The kicking of his heart, the nervous flutter in his gut, are still there, and they're getting harder to ignore. There's not much chance to lift Eddie up, and Steve's feeling a little desperate to hold Eddie in his arms, to feel his breath against his neck, those strong fingers digging into his skin, holding onto his hair.
Opportunity finally arises a few weeks later, when they're in Steve's backyard again, playing Badminton (the only sport Steve could convince Eddie to give a chance).
Suddenly, Eddie yelps, tugging his bare foot around to inspect the sole of it.
"Shit, fucking ouch," he hisses when Steve hurries over, "I think I stepped on a bee."
Steve doesn't hesitate to pick Eddie up, just this time, he puts an arm beneath his knees and the other around his shoulders.
"Did I hit my head, too?" Eddie wonders, but is still holding onto Steve's neck as he always does. "I think I'm getting carried princess style by one Steve Harrington."
Eddie swoons and puts the back of his hand against his forehead. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes in answer, doesn't know what to say to make it less weird. He carries Eddie into the kitchen, sets him on the kitchen counter, then gets an onion and slices it into half before pressing it to the swollen spot on Eddie's foot.
"Do you think the bee is okay?" Eddie asks, and Steve thinks he's a little bit in love with him.
The fourth time it happens, it's on Eddie. He comes storming into Steve's house, calling for him, calling, "Steve, Steve, I've got the job at the garage!"
Steve steps out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel, when Eddie flings himself at him, arms curled tight around his neck. Steve's got no choice but to drop the dish towel, curling his arms around Eddie's waist and whirling him around until they're both dizzy with laughter.
So.
Two is a coincidence.
Three is a pattern.
Five. Well. Five might be a bit of a problem.
That final time in his kitchen at night, happens like this:
The other side of Steve's bed is empty, even though Eddie stayed over. They haven't felt awkward about sharing a bed in a long time, which Steve realizes might seem a little strange in itself, but since they're both members of the regular nightmares club…
Steve heads down, finds Eddie in the kitchen refilling a glass with water from the tap.
"Did I wake you?" he asks, and turns to Steve, leaning against the counter. He looks so good like this, with Steve's shorts a little too big on him and slung low on his hips, hair all tousled from sleep, slim fingers ringless for once. Pretty eyes, pretty lips, even the exact cut of his chin is pretty.
Steve didn't plan for it to happen like this, didn't plan for anything to happen at all, really, but he tugs Eddie's glass out of his hand, places it on the counter, then bends his knees to lift him into his arms, slowly, fabric sliding against fabric.
Eddie's thighs come around Steve's waist like they've rehearsed this, like they've done this a million times before, will a million times more. Steve takes a few steps to the side, trying to find a surface he can secure Eddie against, finds the tall fridge to be perfect for that.
Eddie gasps when his back comes into contact with the cold metal, and he tightens his arms and legs around Steve. For a short moment, they only look at each other, breathing hard against each other.
"Two is a coincidence..." Eddie mutters, licking his lips. Steve lets his eyes fall shut, leans in until his nose slides against Eddie's. His heart is stuck in his throat at this point, his fingers tingling where they're digging into the naked skin of Eddie's thighs. He slides them a bit higher, high enough that they slip under the hem of his shorts.
"Five?" Steve breathes. "What is five?"
"Five is a confession," Eddie whispers back. Steve can't help but press his smile against the edge of Eddie's jaw. God, he likes him so much.
"Do you have any idea what this does to me?" Eddie groans, fingers curling in Steve's hair and tugging on it until Steve moans against his skin. "Lifting me in your freakishly strong arms like it's nothing? Promising me not to let me fall? Jesus freaking Christ, I thought I was going to spontaneously combust every time."
"Yeah?" He hums, pulls away enough to look at Eddie in the spare light of his dark kitchen. Steve's still grinning, his cheeks aching from it.
"Are you always this competitive, Harrington?"
"I like to be the best at whatever I do. Sue me," Steve shrugs, jostling Eddie in his arms in the process.
"Well, we haven't made out yet, so the jury is still out on whether you can do it without dropping me on my ass."
Steve's mouth lands on Eddie's true and right. Kissing the sass right out of him, kissing him pliant and soft, until Eddie's shivering and sighing in his arms.
True to his word, he doesn't let Eddie fall. Not even twenty minutes later, when their kisses have turned hard and heavy, when his hold on Eddie has gotten so tight, he's leaving his own kind of bruises on him.
is your light on? | ch. 25/26: close the loop (17,169 words) | ao3
steve harrington/eddie munson; rated e; 294k+ words
[read chapter 25] - [read from the beginning]
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It stayed hidden, kept between his backpack and the back of his desk drawer when he wasn’t writing in it. Very rarely it left his house.
It wasn’t a diary. It wasn’t a journal. It was his notebook.
Steve had a notebook.
Steve can’t find the damn notebook.
Since his parents have decided they weren’t ever coming back to Hawkins, he was a little more relaxed about where he left it. And now he can’t find it.
He was halfway through tearing up the living room when Robin came over.
She had to shout to get his attention, “What are you doing?”
“I can’t find my notebook,” Steve griped, shoving his arm widely underneath the couch. “I swear I had it yesterday.”
“What notebook?” Robin asked.
“The black one,” Steve said. It’s no use. He can’t see under the couch anymore, and his arm is covered in dust bunnies. He just needed to move the couch completely. He stood back up, about to ask for Robin’s help when he sees her red face.
“Robin?” Steve asked cautiously.
“It was on the kitchen island,” she squeaked.
He turned to look towards the kitchen, already torn up. He quickly scanned the island, seeing no notebook in sight.
“No,” Robin said. “Yesterday.”
“Robin,” Steve said slowly. “Where did it go?”
“I thought it was Eddie’s,” Robin admitted. “He was cleaning up from DND and I thought it was one of his little dungeon story things. He took it from me! He didn’t say anything!”
“Oh my god, Robin!” Steve groaned, running his clean hand over his face. “You didn’t!”
“You can ask for it back,” Robin suggested. “It’s not like he wouldn’t give it back.”
“Oh my god,” Steve repeated. “Oh my god!”
“What?” Robin asked. “What’s so bad about your little notebook full of secrets? Your grocery list? Your to do list? Family’s secret recipes —“
“It’s about Eddie,” Steve snapped. “All of it. It’s just — all about Eddie.”
He sighed, sitting down on the couch. He brought his head to his knees.
He exhaled slowly.
“I had that notebook since senior year. Every thought I had about Eddie is in that book.”
Robin sat down next to Steve. She extended an open palm towards Steve. Steve took it, intertwining their fingers. “Every thought?”
Steve nodded. “So I guess he’ll know now. Either he lets me down easy or I out freak the freak.”
“Come on,” Robin groaned. “You can’t tell me that Eddie wouldn’t be into you.”
Steve shot Robin a glare. “Not the time.”
Robin raised her free hand up. “Look, we can just go to his house and get it. Maybe he hasn’t even opened it! Didn’t realize it wasn’t one of his notebooks and he ignored it. We just ask for it back, and everything will be okay. Okay?”
Steve looked at Robin cautiously. “You don’t think he’s opened it?”
Robin blew raspberries. “Not a chance! Let’s go!”
Eddie had the notebook.
The Notebook.
The one Steve Harrington kept locked away at any given point.
Eddie has seen it in action. When Steve doesn’t think anyone’s watching. When he’s alone at Family Video, jotting something down between customers.
Or when he’s sitting in the back of the Wheeler’s basement, writing instead of paying attention to the movie. Or when they are in the middle of Dungeons and Dragons, he’ll be in the kitchen, writing furiously.
Eddie joked to himself that Steve was writing Spirk fanfiction.
That he was obsessed with Spock fucking Captain Kirk out of his mind. A dark part of Eddie wondered if Steve was writing his last will and testament, a martyr ready to go at any moment.
What he didn’t expect to find was — well, himself.
He didn’t realize he had Steve’s notebook. It was piled onto his crate of dungeon master stuff. He didn’t know he had ownership of such a valuable item until he was organizing the crate this morning, getting his notes together for the next session.
He stared at the notebook in hand, trying to remember what notes he written inside.
When he opened it, he realized it wasn’t his at all.
It was Steve’s notebook.
He knew that handwriting. He needed to shut it — except he saw his name.
10.23.84
Eddie Munson would make a pretty girl. He’s got big dark eyes like Bambi. Wild hair, big and Curly.
I can’t tell if it’s natural or permed. But it’s nice.
He’s nice.
He’s got a nice voice. Deep. Smooth. Ms. Click made him read out loud today. It’s the only time I’ve paid attention in this dumb class. Hes like a storyteller. I didn’t want him to stop.
I wish he was in all my classes.
11.5.84
Finally spoke to Eddie one on one. Sold me some weed. Said he was sorry that Billy got the one up on me.
Said something about Billy listens to Mott Lee Crew and it’s terrible music.
Gave me a discount on my weed.
He’s still nice.
11.7.84
I dreamed about him. He kissed me. He was still a boy. I [eraser marks tore up the paper]
3.2.85
He’s barely in school anymore.
I think they told him he wasn’t graduating.
Someone said he went to California to get a record deal. I’ll never see him again.
3.15.85
He’s back. He’s sad. Didn’t work out.
I hate to admit it, but I’m glad.
6.28.85
I saw him in the mall.
I hid in the damn freezers for my 10 minute break.
Robin hates my guts. Said I was gonna get freezer burn. Said it might help with the ladies.
I dont think I want them anymore.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The girls are hot. Obviously.
But then there’s him.
He’s got long hair like a girl, but no boobs. He’s got scruff he forgot to shave and I want to touch it.
He’s not a girl. He’s never been a girl to me.
But the feeling is the same. Like if he was a girl.
What’s wrong with me?
7.5.85
I’m not alone.
I’m not broken.
If [scribbled out] is like this, then it’s okay. It’s not wrong. It’s okay.
I’m okay.
I just — [scribbled out]
I’m okay.
7.8.85
He gave me my weed for free this time. Didn’t say anything more. He apologized like it was his fault. I couldn’t form a straight thought. I just shrugged. Like a dumbass. He threw in another joint.
He’s so nice.
8.15.85
I convinced Robin to go to the hideout.
Eddie’s a fucking rockstar.
It’s like he was meant to be up there. Center stage, rocking like he’s some big celebrity. His grin is wild and it feels like it’s aimed directly at me.
I wish it was true.
10.1.85
Bisexual.
It’s called bisexual.
11.15.85
Of course the kids find him.
They said they had a new doofuses and dorkuses group. Never said it was Eddie.
He’s so good with the kids. He’s taken them under his wing and protecting them from Jason’s douche bags.
God.
Is it weird that it makes him hotter?
2.13.86
He swung by family video today. Grabbed a few movies and a jiffy pop. Said he’s got big plans. A couple of horror movies.
Didn’t say with someone.
Didn’t say alone.
Just that he’s got plans. On Valentine’s Day.
It hurts. I don’t want to think about it.
3.29.86
He’s alive.
He’s ALIVE.
He woke up yesterday. Briefly. Looked at me with his big brown eyes and smiled. Mumbled something about a guardian angel and fell back asleep.
He’s more awake today. Up about 20 minutes at a time. Remembering more.
He calls me sweetheart and Stevie.
I don’t want him to remember me. I’m not king Steve. I want to be Stevie. Want to be good.
Want Eddie to see the real me now. Not to think about how I was.
5.4.86
He’s so beautiful.
7.6.86
He let me stay with him over the Fourth of July.
He said he remembered how I looked on his porch last year. He made the connection to the upside down a few weeks ago. Didn’t want me to be alone.
I slept in his bed. I slept next to him. His whole room smells like him and I never want to leave.
7.26.86
I did a dumb thing. I bought tickets for Metallica for Eddie. I went with him. Drove him down to Evansville. The singe broke his arm, so it was just Ozzy.
But Eddie was so excited. He looked so natural there. Surrounded by music he loves and people like him.
No one knew him. He was just another guy in the crowd. I couldn’t tell you what songs Ozzy did. But I bet Eddie could.
He looked so good there. So [eraser marks]
Happy looks good on him.
9.3.86
Eddie never ceases to amaze me when he DMs. He’s like a cartoon, wild and fun and care free.
His smile is so genuine, it made everything worth it. Sometimes, he glances at me and I feel butterflies in my gut. For a split second, his attention is on ME and nothing else in the world matters. It feels like he loves me too —
Eddie slammed the book shut.
Loves.
Not likes.
Loves.
He did.
He loves Steve. Has for a while now.
He had a crush on him since his stupid coiffed hair and his dumb polos were hanging off of Nancy at any given moment.
Eddie didn’t think he had a chance. He didn’t think Steve liked him that way. That Steve could like him that way.
And now he knows.
Steve loves him.
Eddie read his notebook and he knows Steve’s secret.
Steve’s going to be so pissed.
How was Eddie going to tell Steve that he loved him back, that he felt the same way, without admitting to violating his privacy?
The screen door creaked open.
“Eddie?” Robin called. “You awake? And decent?”
Eddie sighed in relief. It was just Robin —
“Eds —“
Steve poked his head into Eddie’s room, his eyes wide as he locked onto the notebook in Eddie’s hands.
Shit.
Steve stared at the notebook.
His notebook.
Open.
In Eddie’s hands.
And he’s pretty sure he’s on the last entry.
The one from yesterday, while they were playing dungeons and dragons. The one where he admits he’s finally in love with Eddie.
How does he explain it? Blow it off? Pretend that Eddie’s not holding his heart in his hands.
“Eddie, I’m —“
“I’m gay!” Eddie shouted, startling Steve in the doorway and Robin in the living room. A silent beat passed before Eddie continued, his words spilling out a mile a minute. “I’m gay and I’m so in love with you and I’m so sorry for reading this, I thought it was mine and clearly it’s not, but I saw my name and — that’s no excuse because I should’ve stopped and I violated your privacy and everything but if I didn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and I couldn’t tell you that me — me too.”
He took a hasty breath, pointing to his chest.
“Me. Gay. Love. You.”
Steve stared at him for a moment, processing. His heart is beating through his chest. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. The terrible possibilities that he’s making this up. That Eddie didn’t say those words. Or Eddie’s only saying it to make him feel better.
But what if he’s honest?
What if this works out?
“Not a joke?” Steve asked, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. He felt like a deer, ready to take off at the next loud noise.
“Not a joke,” Eddie said, slowly standing up, like he knows Steve’s nervous. Dropped the notebook on the bed.
Steve’s eyes quickly darted to it, thinking if he’s fast, he could grab it and make a run for it. He held his hands in front of his chest, palms exposed to Steve. He slowly approached him until he was close enough to brush his hand against Steve’s arm. Eddie’s fingertips ran down Steve’s arm, stopping at his hand.
“I promise you, Steve,” Eddie whispered. “I love you, too. I just — didn’t think you were like me. That this would be possible. So I thought I’d be content being you friend.” He slipped his hand into Steve’s. “That if the only way I could have you was as my friend, then I’d shove my feelings down and pretend that I didn’t have this big crush on you.”
“And —“ Steve swallowed nervously. “And you’re not just saying this? To make me feel better?”
Eddie pulled away. Steve felt his heart stop.
Then Eddie practically dove onto his bed, shoving his arm between the mattress and the wall. His tongue stuck out in concentration as he reached. Steve couldn’t help but laugh.
Then — Eddie pulled out a yellow spiral notebook.
In big, black permanent marker, the cover read: EDDIES! DO NOT TOUCH
Steve kind of swore under his breath, realizing he should’ve put his name on the cover. But the “do not touch” may have incentivize the teens to open it.
Eddie sat on his bed, opening the notebook. He looked up at Steve and patted the spot next to him.
Steve hesitated. He swayed in the doorway before Robin gently pushed him forward. He closed the small gap and crawled on the bed. Eddie leaned in close, showing the open notebook to Steve.
“It’s only fair,” Eddie said quietly. “That you get to read my heart, too.”
Steve studied Eddie for a moment, lost in the beauty of him up close.
He could see the reddish brown of his dark eyes, the small freckles hidden in his pale skin, the way his sheepish smile is pulled tight on one side from the scarring.
He could see how vulnerable he is in this moment.
Steve looked down at the notebook in his hands.
THE SUN
The warmth of your smile
Like rays of a sun
Leave your mark on my skin
Let me bask, turn it red
Let me stay in your orbit
floating around you
Because there’s no where else I’d want to be
HAZY
I’m in a cloud of haze
When I’m around you
Your eyes on me
The whole world focused on me
Like the roar of the ocean
Like the soft grass
Like the rich earth
Hazy hazy hazy
I’m in a cloud of haze
THE DREAMER
he said when we go
He wants the east room
The sun rises in the east
And falls to the west
And all I can think about
Is we, we, we
Like a sweet dream
Haunting me
I think of easy Saturdays in the kitchen
Dancing around breakfast
The radio on something sickly sweet
Like Lauper or Loverboy
Like Mercury singing about love
And he’d see me
Like I see him
And he would want me
Like I want him
And all I can dream about
Is us, us, us
Steve looked up at Eddie, eyes wide. “You mean it?”
“Every word,” Eddie breathed. “They’re — uh — songs. Most of them. Not like — not like corroded coffin stuff. They’re meant for the Machine.” Eddie nodded toward the acoustic guitar.
“You wrote songs about me,” Steve repeated. “For me.”
“Technically you were never supposed to hear them,” Eddie said sheepishly. “But I thought it was only fair. Notebook for a notebook.”
“Eddie,” Steve’s eyes drifted to his lips, snapping back up. “I’m gonna kiss you.”
“Fuck yes,” Eddie breathed, leaning in.
Steve kissed Eddie.
Oh my god he’s kissing Eddie! He cupped Eddie’s jaw, feeling the stubble against his palm. He felt Eddie lick against his lips —
“I’m gonna go,” Robin cleared her throat. “Not that I’m not happy for you two. It’s just — I don’t know what you’re gonna do next.”
“Yeah,” Eddie laughed, his hand playing at the hem of Steve’s shirt. “Maybe — maybe you should.”
“Ew —“ Robin said turning away. “Eddie that’s my SISTER —“
“Robin —“ Steve interrupted, turning to look at her with a soft smile. “Thank you. For giving Eddie my notebook.”
Robin smiled back. “You’re welcome. Eddie — don’t deflower my SISTER. He’s a RESPECTED member of Hawkins!”
“No promises,” Eddie smirked. “Now that he’s mine, I’m never letting go.”
“Yeah?” Steve breathed. He felt like he was full of butterflies, ready to take off. “You’re mine, too.”
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