Scandal follows Eddie Munson wherever he goes. He doesn't mean for it to, it just does. And, like, sure, he should've known that cavorting with a bunch of topless models in a hot tub in a chalet in the Swiss Alps was a bad idea, but 1) he's gay and 2) even if he wasn't, does anyone really care if a rockstar has an orgy these days?
Well, it turns out that they do. They do so much, in fact, that he hasn't known a moment's peace since the photos leaked. Every time they go outside, they're mobbed. Their socials are a disaster zone.
Chrissy, Jeff, Gareth, and Freak are sick of his shit, worried that this will ruin the world tour, which doesn't make any sense. All publicity is good publicity, right?
Anyway, he's not surprised when he, Chrissy, and the rest of the band are whisked away in a fancy car with dark-tinted windows, thinks they're about to fly home for a break. And honestly? Good riddance to Europe.
Imagine his surprise when he exits the car mere feet away from the sun soaked Mediterranean.
"Oh no. No, no, no." He says, trying to force his way back into the sedan.
"Oh, yes." Chrissy links her arm with his. "You need to lay low for a few days and this was the best I could manage on short notice."
He glares. "You know I hate boats."
"You do not," Gareth accuses.
"You're just mad at facing consequences for your actions," Jeff adds.
"I didn't do anything!" He wails.
Freak pulls out his phone, reads, "Munson, 26, has always been open about being gay, out of the closet since Corroded Coffin's first gig. Now, though, his sexuality is in question. Multiple women have come forward to claim they slept with the rockstar. And, while many of the women in the photo have said that Munson was 'deeply uninterested' in them, the fact remains that his antics are more Motley Crue than Troye Sivan."
Eddie groans up at the sky. "Why would I be anything like Troye Sivan!? I'm in a heavy metal band! And he's around boobies all the time! Honestly, has no one been to a rave?"
"Not since the 90's." Chrissy smiles brightly, continues up the dock.
"I'm never forgiving any of you for this."
"It's a luxury yacht, Eddie. You'll survive," Gareth says.
He very bravely does not point out that he's wearing black jeans and an over-sized black hoodie and black platform Doc Martens, so obviously he's not the type of person equipped for any kind of boat.
The conversation ends but only because, when they get up to the main deck and the crew waiting for them, he sees the most beautiful man in the world. Artfully messy sun-bronzed hair, strong jaw, classic nose, skin dotted with freckles. Aviators hide his eyes, but even the sunglasses look good on him. Not to mention the little white uniform that shows off all of his many many muscles.
Eddie stares at him, blatantly, unabashedly, totally missing the introduction to the rest of the crew.
As soon as he's left to his own devices, he locks himself in his cabin. Not even the chance to gawk at that hot guy can draw him out of his pout. They can force him onto a boat, but they can't make him enjoy it.
He lasts until afternoon the next day, when Jeff barges in, surprising him enough that the throws his phone with a very un-rockstar yelp.
"You have to come out." Jeff's arms are crossed over his chest.
"Nope." Eddie relaxes back into his pillows. "Not until this is over."
"So, you're going to stay in your room for a week?"
"Guess so."
"Orr, you could come out and enjoy yourself instead of pouting over what your own actions caused."
"My actions!" He shrieks. "My actions! I stumbled on a bunch of topless French models in a hot tub, and I'm at fault?"
"No, you being drunk enough to get in with them was the problem."
"I wasn't even that drunk! I just thought it was funny. They did too!"
Jeff sighs. "You get yourself into a situation more than any person I've ever met."
"See? It's not my fault."
"I mean. It kind of is. I suspect any other guy would learn how to avoid this."
"I'm not leaving."
"Man, Chrissy isn't going to let you stay in here."
"Too bad."
"She told me to carry you out, if I had to."
"You wouldn't."
"If you come out, you can chat up the cute bosun."
"The bos-what?"
"Bosun. The guy you were ogling when we boarded. His name is Steve. He's really nice. He--"
"I was not ogling him."
"Eddie. You looked like you wanted to eat him for dinner."
"I'm not leaving the room." He sing-songs.
Look, would he have fought so hard if he'd known that Jeff was strong enough to toss him over his shoulders and fireman-carry him out of the room and up the stairs? He would not.
Instead, he screams the whole way from his cabin to the deck, where he's unceremoniously deposited into a lounge chair next to Chrissy. She's in a hot pink bikini, sipping a cocktail.
"Good to see you." She deadpans.
He glares. "Et tu, Chrissy?"
From behind him, a rich voice calls out, "Glad you could join us." It is, of course, the hot bosun. He waves when he catches Eddie looking in his direction.
Eddie sinks down in the lounger, Chrissy stifling giggles against her elbow.
---
The thing is, Steve is nice. He's nice and he's funny and he's hardworking. He's good with the other deckhands, Dustin, Max, and Lucas; strict but fair and good at keeping everyone on task. The stewards, Nancy, Robin, and El, all love him. Sometimes, he'll be down on all fours scrubbing the deck, and his t-shirt will bunch up, reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his taunt stomach that makes Eddie feel like a feral dog.
He's out on the top deck reading a copy of The Hobbit that Dustin loaned him, when Steve comes around the corner.
"Oh! Eddie, hey." Steve smiles. "Didn't realize there were any guests still up here."
"Do you need me to move?" He asks. He swings his feet over the side of the lounger.
"Not at all. Just wasn't expecting you." Steve's puttering around, picking up the detritus of the day. "I'm glad we've been able to overcome your expectations of boats."
His squeak is indignant. "It wasn't about the boat! I was brought here against my will!"
Steve smiles at him, eyes glittering. "Yeah, what a horrible punishment, boarding a luxury yacht for a Mediterranean cruise."
Eddie grabs at his chest, mimes being shot in the heart. "Stevie, how could you? All this time I thought you were on my side."
"Eh," he shrugs. "You were kind of being a baby."
He falls off the lounger at this. "The killing blow," he wails.
Laughing, Steve extends a hand, helps him to his feet. Their eyes meet and Eddie's struck, once again, by the way the hazel shines so gold, even at twilight.
"I'm being punished," he says, looking away.
"Again, getting on a chartered yacht for a week is not much of a punishment."
"I have a tendency to find myself involved in shenanigans."
"The topless women," Steve says.
Eddie groans. "You know about that?"
Steve does a real bitchy thing with his eyebrows that makes Eddie very warm in places it shouldn't. "Everyone knows about it."
"Okay. I'll have you know those boobs meant nothing to me, which is why it was fine! We had fun! Also, I am very, very gay. Like. The gayest."
"Oh, I know." Steve grins.
He doesn't know what to do with that. Changes the subject instead. "I hadn't clocked you for someone who listened to our stuff."
"I don't. Or well. Not really. No offense. The kids love you guys. And Robin. It's just--it's really loud? Not really my thing. Some good lyrics, though."
"No, I get it." He nods, licks his lips. "I write most of our songs." He's not sure why he says it, what he hopes to get from it.
"I know," Steve says.
"Oh." Eddie smiles down at his hands, The Hobbit. Before he can say more, Chrissy calls him down for dinner.
---
It's no secret that the Corroded Coffin boys are diehard dnd fans. They've done interviews about it, posted video of their sessions on YouTube and TikTok. Everyone knows they play, everyone knows Eddie DMs, so, he supposes, it's only a matter of time before Dustin and Lucas asks if he would DM for them.
The band, Chrissy, Lucas, Dustin, Max, Nancy, El, and Robin all agree to play. When asked, Captain Hopper snorts, doesn't take his eyes off the horizon, and Steve tells Dustin, "You know nothing in the world will make me play that game, kid. I'll try to stop by, though."
Eddie is totally in his element, everyone is having a blast, even Captain Hopper stops by. And Steve--he shows up after fifteen minutes, stays the whole time, can't keep his eyes off Eddie. He's not sure if it spurs him on, makes him more wild and dramatic, but the game is electric, the mood high.
It's an amazing night, one of the best of Eddie's life, and that's really saying something. They go late, well into the morning, but he's too hyped to sleep. He's pacing across the deck when Steve appears.
"You were great tonight." He says.
Eddie feels like he's effervescing. "You should think about playing sometime."
"Nah." Steve ducks his head a little. "Wouldn't be the same without you leading."
There's not a ton of space separating them, but he closes the distance anyway. "That could be arranged," he says, voice low.
"Yeah?" Steve meets his eyes, doesn't look away.
"If you want."
The air between them goes heavy, tightens, the silence lengthens.
"I can't," Steve breathes. "I'm working."
"No, yeah," Eddie nods. He steps back, runs his hand through his hair. He's never said no to something like this, never to someone like Steve. "I'm avoiding--"
"Situations." Steve finishes.
"Oh, but, Stevie, you're a situation I want very much."
"Take me on a date tomorrow."
"It would be my pleasure," he says.
He should leave but--he does love an occurrence, so he lets the impulsivity fly-- leans forward, places a soft kiss at the corner of Steve's mouth.
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