#bittersweet

Steve's waiting for him outside the bar, chewing at his lip the way he has since Vecna. Eddie shouts his name, catches his attention, and his expression brightens, relief and affection spilling from his smile.

He still makes Eddie buy the first round as punishment for being late, but it's the first round of many, and the night sprawls out around them, like so many since they came to college. They drink, they share baskets of appetizers, they shoot the shit, and because they're both popular with vastly different groups, there's always people coming by to say hi.

And when they're alone, it's Steve and Eddie doing what they do best... talking and laughing until the room falls away around them, until it's only them, until nothing else in the world could intrude.

Eddie gets up after a while, takes the empty pitchers to the bar, orders another. He's on his way back to the table when he sees the girl. Dark blonde hair, tight curls, elfin and cute, Nancy Wheeler 2.0. She's talking to Steve, flirting, and he's smiling and laughing.

Something hot and ugly rises in Eddie's stomach before he can stomp it down, but this is a truth he's always known, and anyway, he's near enough that he catches Steve's eye, who immediately stands to help with the beer.

He expects the girl to stay, but he and Steve get carried away horsing around filling their glasses, and after they mop up the spilled beer, she's gone.

Steve doesn't seem to mind; honestly, doesn't even seem to realize she left, but Eddie feels guilty. It's not like he doesn't know that Steve sleeps with girls, a lot of them; not even like he hasn't seen the magic happen live and up-close. And if Steve wants to get some--

"Earth to Eddie, you in there?" Steve's fist knocks on the side of his head, and he pushes it away with a laugh. "Where'd you go?"

The words fall out of his mouth before he's sure he wants to say them, tumbling into the space between them like hail, could cause irreparable damage. "You could hook up with her, if you wanted."

"What?" Steve's mouth curls into a confused pout.

"That girl. You--if you wanted to go with her--" His tongue is too big for his mouth suddenly.

"C'mon, you know I never hook up when we're hanging out."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But you seemed into her, and I don't want to stand in the way, so if you--"

He shakes his head, smiles in this soft, sweet way. "I'm not looking tonight."

Eddie wants to protest, but he's said too much already, feels exposed, so he shrugs and grins, says, "your loss," and pours another beer.

---

He's feeling good, happy and buzzed, and he knows Steve is too by the way he grins and leans towards Eddie from across the table. Even more so when he says, "I'm dying for some pizza. Split one?"

And Eddie laughs and says yes, like he'd ever say anything else, before excusing himself to the restroom.

It's on his way back that he sees that girl again, at the bar, and pressed up close to her is none other than Steve Harrington. He's smiling, looking down at her, and Eddie's whole body shrivels up and turns to dust. Maybe he is drunk, after all, what with the fury spitting through him and the way the room is suddenly spinning.

He decides to slip out while Steve is distracted, no need for another awkward conversation. But Steve looks up, and their eyes meet, and Eddie watches as Steve leans in to say something to the girl, as he steps away from her to join him. Eddie, for once in his life, can't find anything to say, and he walks into the chill night air without a word.

"God, I'm starving," Steve says once they're free of the noise of the bar.

"You can hook up with her," Eddie says. He doesn't want to say it again, hates himself for the words spilling out. "I don't mind."

Steve laughs. "I told you I wasn't interested in that tonight."

"But she was your type."

"My type? I don't really have--what's gotten into you?"

"C'mon, Steve, even I could see how much she looked like Nancy."

"Nancy?" Steve stops in the middle of the street. "What does she have to do with anything?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. " Forget I said anything. It doesn't--whatever."

"I don't get--" Eddie starts walking away, but Steve reaches out, fast, loosely wraps fingers around his wrist. "Hey, don't--what's with you tonight, man? You're all--I don't even know."

And he is drunk, too drunk for this, for his crush, for his jealousy, for the way Steve's eyes are dark and serious, his forehead scrunched with concern.

"It's nothing, promise." He says. "Beer wasn't as watered down as normal, or something."

"Sure, yeah, but--" Steve chews at his lip. "I don't know why--was it cause she reminded you of Nancy?"

"Like she didn't remind you of Nancy?" He snorts.

"Not really." Steve shrugs. "But I wasn't paying attention to her."

"That's not what it looked like to me," trips out of his mouth before he can swallow it back.

"This is exactly what I mean," Steve says. He hasn't stopped chewing on his lip. "You've never cared about the girls around before--what gives?"

His mouth hangs open, useless, responses he won't give pinging at his nervous system. "I can't do this tonight," is what he settles on. He turns to go, but Steve, has quick hold of his elbow.

"I don't understand."

"It's--just a bad night. Nothing to worry about."

"I feel like we're fighting and I don't know what I did." Steve chews his lip some more, and Eddie hates it; hates that he's the one making Steve anxious like this.

Eddie laughs, humorless. "You didn't do anything, Steve. Of course not. It's all me. I'll go home and sleep it off and be right as rain in the morning."

"You'd tell me if--"

"Of course." He swallows. "I'm going to go, okay?"

"Are you sure? Maybe getting some food would help." His eyes are so big in the streetlight, glossy and hazel and sad, and Eddie can't stand it. Steve is so good and kind and worried, and Eddie can't--

"I'm in love with you."

Steve's face drops, goes neutral, drops again. "Eddie, I--"

"Stop," he says. Mercy of mercies, he sounds normal. "I don't need you to let me down easy, Steve. But I'm gonna leave, and hopefully forget all about this by the morning."

He walks away then, and Steve lets him, doesn't call him back, and that's what gets the hurt to finally set in.

He doesn't go home, walks around downtown, anonymous in the usual student bustle, heartbroken tears threatening to fall.

---

Eddie has no idea what time it is when he finally makes his way home but--

Steve Harrington waits on the front steps, knees curled to his chest, a pizza box next to him.

Tears choke his throat closed, and he can't speak for a few long seconds. "What are you doing here?"

"Was worried about you," Steve says. Under the porch light, his eyes look red.

"I'm fine, promise."

"Eddie, I--"

"Please don't." He squeezes his eyes shut, swallows hard. "We don't need to do this. Ever, but not tonight, okay? I can't--I can't handle it tonight."

Steve looks at his sneakers, then nods. "Will you sit here with me?"

It's Eddie's turn to nod. To take a seat with a healthy amount of room between them.

"Thought you might be hungry." Steve offers him the pizza. "Your favorite."

They eat in silence, comfortable enough, despite everything, then talk quietly of nothing, as the very oldest and closest of friends do.

At some point, they must fall asleep because he wakes up to dawn peaking over the horizon and Steve's head pillowed on his chest. His heart aches, and tears slip free, but he thinks, at least he has this. At least Steve loves him this way.

For the first time today, he rested the twirling quarter in his fingers to rest on your bedside table which dinged on the wood. He leaned down and calmly murmured against your forehead, "Sleep well, beautiful," he pushed some stray baby hairs back, "I'll be here while you sleep."

His lips which were half disfigured due to the healed burned pressed against your forehead. In your sleep you could swear you felt it; the half that was the soft district attorney, and the roughness of the vigilante.

Your eyes fluttered as your eyelashes opened up like a shaded veil to your sleep hazed gaze. Tracing his features with your eyes, you smile lightly, "Hi..." you rasped out with a snooze filled voice.

In return, Harvey pecked your lips, maneuvering himself to lay behind you, he spooned you as you returned to slumber; He would rest behind you and sometimes he would leave, sometimes he would remain by your side until you awoke once again.

So now you and your husband laid in bed, under the blanket of midnight, while he kept at least one hand on you, the other hand and by extension his elbow holding his own head up to gaze at you.

Despite everything, regardless of fights and distance, he was your husband. And despite everything, you were his wife. No matter what, even if the disasters persisted and the calamity continued, you would both fulfill your commitment, 'Till death do us part,' out of obligation but also out of love. Especially out of love.

dividers: @cursed-carmine