#eillawrites

The man knows the lyrics by heart, it seems. He's becoming more confident as he's getting into it, because now Eddie can hear every word loud and crystal clear.

Eddie’s not sure if he's furious for being interrupted during his precious songwriting process, annoyed that the choice of music couldn't get any more mainstream, or intrigued by the guy's gorgeous singing voice.

He's probably all three.

By the end of the week, it's the latter. This guy can sing.

And he's ridiculously hot, Eddie finds out on a Friday night when he's coming home exhausted from work, not ready in the slightest for the encounter when the guy’s front door swings open, revealing him in all his glory.

He's tall, around the same height as Eddie. Broad shoulders, definitely a sportsman or a former jock. Long legs underneath the shortest shorts Eddie's ever seen.

The worst of all, the guy's got a soft look about him. A pair of nerdy glasses are sitting on his nose, brown hair beautiful and thick, probably would be silky soft to touch.

The smile he gives a dumbstruck Eddie is radiant. It lights up his beautiful brown eyes, his whole face looking like he's straight from a magazine.

If Eddie's got a weak spot, then that's hunky men with golden hearts and eyes that could downright destroy him with a single glance. He'd fucking combust if the man ever looked at him pleading.

This guy's got them all and more. The musician in Eddie is screaming, because he's heard his voice through the wall, seeks it out every night at around 9 pm, antsy and buzzing with excitement.

Eddie would even buy a fucking ticket if he had to. Would blow all his money from his shitty minimum wage job and become homeless. Live in a cardboard box by this guy's window to hear him sing fucking Take On Me by A-ha.

He hates pop music. Has he mentioned that yet?

By the start of the second week since he heard the guy sing, he's developed a full-on school boy crush on him.

At the age of 28, Eddie’s pining after a gorgeous brunet who just moved next door at the end of last month.

His name is Steve Harrington, he finds out when he peeks at his neighbour's mailbox on his way to band practice with the boys.

He can't help himself. Eddie's always been a weak man, apparently even more so for a guy named Steve.

Eddie’s so, so fucked.

According to said plan, Steve 'needs help' getting blankets and pillows ready for the big sleepover, so Dustin sends Robin to help Steve in the laundry room, the room where Dustin secretly hung a mistletoe.

He thought the location would be perfect, that area of the house is not packed to the brim and they could have a private moment. When Robin notices the mistletoe, they will look at each other, share a laugh, then boom, first kiss.

Steve snorts so loud, even high as kite Jonathan looks up from where he's lying with his head on Nancy's lap.

"And you think this plan will work, because...?"

Dustin rolls his eyes so hard Steve’s afraid the kid will get stuck like that once, "she's so into you dude! You two are wearing matching ugly sweaters for Christ's sake, just trust me on this."

Sure enough, Steve and Robin are wearing matching ugly Christmas sweaters with little deers on them. Steve’s primarily red, while Robin's is green. Their socks are parts of the set, but the colors are reversed on both of them. They look like the best of friends they actually are, nothing more.

"Christ, and you're supposed to be the ladies' man..."

Steve doesn't have the energy to launch into a rant on why it's still a, frankly, ridiculous assumption coming from Dustin, all the while dodging the real reason that is not his secret to tell.

Not to mention he has his eyes set on a certain dungeon master, who's currently sitting on a kitchen counter with Rudolph antlers on his head, wearing it to be a part of Robin and Steve's little festive outfit gang in his own way without jeopardizing his alternative style. Eddie's kicking the air with his feet while excitedly gesturing with his hands to Will, probably going off about his Christmas campaign. Dork.

Steve sighs and dismisses his best friend with, "sure, whatever you say, Henderson. It's still not like that, though."

Dustin all but pushes Steve to the laundry room, ignoring the inquiring looks Mike and Lucas are giving them.

"Now just stand there and look pretty," Dustin instructs, reaching up to pat Steve’s cheek in a patronizing way before turning tail. Steve’s watching the kid leave with an incredulous expression on his face. One of these days, Steve’s gonna snap and finally give the kid the lecture he deserves. Not on Christmas though, no. They all need to enjoy the peace of the holidays, they've earned it.

Steve's rummaging through the washing machine, pulling out the freshly washed blankets and meticulously tossing them in the drier when he hears footsteps behind him, followed by a low whistle.

"Damn, Harrington. I was about to ask if you needed my help but I'm tempted just to stay right here and watch," and fuck, that's definitely not Robin.

Steve spins around to see Eddie leaning against the doorframe. Eddie, with those huge doe eyes. He's got the deer look down without the fucking antlers even. Eddie smirks mischievously and makes a show of checking him out, "I'm not even surprised that somehow, you still manage to look good with that horroundous sweater on. It's not fair."

Steve's blushing, he knows. Instead of letting Eddie bask in victory from making him flustered, Steve scoffs and leans back so he's half-sitting on the top of the washing machine, "says the guy with antlers on his head and eyes like Bambi."

Eddie lets out a laugh and God, Steve feels the breath get knocked out of him. His eyes are twinkling with joy, cute little dimples showing as the sweetest sound is filling up Steve’s ears, "need a hand?"

Steve shakes his head and he goes to protest, but Eddie's already coming his way, like they're two polar ends of magnets, unable to stay away. Steve’s breath hitches, Eddie has such a fond look on his face as he's appraising him. "I'm just about ready, gotta start this up, but otherwise I'm all done."

"You don't have to do everything all by yourself, sweetheart," and fuck, if that doesn't make Steve melt. Eddie reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind Steve’s ear, "you always work so much for these kids. Let me help you."

Steve's left gaping at Eddie, the touch on his ear and neck sent a pleasant buzzing sensation down his spine. At the mention of the little rascals, he remembers the reason he was sent here and doesn't think before looking up. Eddie follows the movement.

Sure enough, they're standing right underneath the mistletoe Dustin hung up. Steve’s heart's beating out of his chest and he's positive his legs would give out if he wasn't leaning on the washing machine. He spares a tentative glance at Eddie, who’s now looking at him, equally flustered. As if he's contemplating something.

"Well," Eddie starts, licking his lips nervously before they stretch out into a small smile, "traditions are traditions, Stevie." Steve notes how the fingers haven't left his hair, and now they're cradling the back of his head. Eddie’s studying him anxiously. He finally asks, "what do you say?"

Steve seems to remember that he's not merely watching a movie unfold in front of his eyes. He's the main character who can do anything he wants to do. And it seems like Eddie and him are on the same page of what that 'it' should be.

His own hand sneaks up Eddie's front, knuckles caressing over his collarbone, then his bobbing Adam's apple before settling, holding his jawline. God, he's beautiful. Steve’s sure Eddie can see it in his eyes now, because suddenly, his are filled with hope and equal parts of wonder. His lips are glistening, they've never been more enticing.

"I—" Steve has to clear his throat and swallow to continue, "I think we definitely should do it. You know, for... for the sake of tradition and all that shit."

Eddie lets out a quiet whine and Steve exhales shakily in response. "Jesus, Steve," before closing the distance between the two of them, guiding Steve’s lips to his own with the hand in his hair. Steve's fingers are gripping his jaw, the other hand clutching the neck of Eddie’s band hoodie as his lips are gliding against his in a soft, but passionate dance.

Their eyes are closed, heads tilted to opposite sides. Steve’s heart is singing, his chest is warm and it feels like coming home for the first time. It's ironic, given their location, but it's true. This place has never felt more like home, not without Eddie kissing him like he's been wanting to do it for so long. Like it's the best Christmas present Steve could have given him.

Steve feels Eddie’s other hand on his hip, circling the skin with his thumb underneath the festive sweater. It sends a shiver down his spine and a quiet, pleased moan escapes him, but it's immediately swallowed by Eddie’s eager mouth. Steve gently licks over the curve of Eddie’s bottom lip and he lets him in without hesitation, his own tongue welcoming Steve’s with suddenly so much desperation, Steve’s dizzy with it.

They don't hear the sound of footsteps approaching, too caught up in their own little world to notice. Up until, "Steeve, I'm pretty sure Dustin wants to set us up again. I think it's time to have the talk with hi— Oooh! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

They pull away panting against each other, now Steve sitting fully on top of the washing machine and when did he even get up there? Steve looks over Eddie’s shoulder to see Robin standing at the door with a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Eddie still has his own closed, chasing Steve’s mouth with his wet lips like nothing happened and he's under a trance or something. It's the hottest thing Steve’s ever seen and he has to hold himself back from ravishing Eddie.

"Tell him to mind his own business," Steve says, frustration evident in his tone, lips cherry red from being kissed so thoroughly, "and for fuck's sake, close the door, Rob!"

"Me?! I'm not the one making out on your washing machine, Steve!"

Eddie huffs out an amused laugh and moves his lips down the side of Steve’s neck as if they're still alone, quickly finding new spots to nibble on instead of his lips. Steve has to look away from Robin, gripping the back of Eddie's hoodie tightly and arching his neck. He's such a fucking tease, enjoying making Steve squirm in front of his best friend.

"Yeah, well— Tell that little b‐brat that you won't ever be," he breathes weakly and holds back a moan until the door slams shut. "Fuck, you're killing me here, Eddie."

Steve feels Eddie’s cheeky grin on his neck, he swears he can see it, before a particularly sharp bite makes him jump and whimper into his shoulder. Eddie soothes it over with his velvety tongue, then sucks on it some more before letting go of the wet, bruised skin, "Dustin's so nosy. You spoil him, always just let him get away with anything, babe."

Steve rolls his eyes and pulls Eddie closer with a leg hooked around his waist, their hips now flush together. He feels pride well up in his chest when Eddie’s hiss of, "Fuck!" reverberates against his skin.

"Jesus, stop lecturing me about the kid when I'm about to put my hand down your pants."

And if they're both flushed when they come out of the room, Steve’s hair all over the place and a festive scarf around his neck while Eddie's antlers are long forgotten on the floor, no one is the wiser.

Except Robin, who's sitting still on the recliner, looking tense but says nothing as Dustin's trying to get her to react to his incessant questioning, all in vain. They both look up when the two enter and Robin’s trying to hide her grin behind her hand.

Dustin's just confused, if anything. Not sure why Steve’s hair such a mess when all he had to do was get blankets and charm Robin. It's one thing that he scared her away, the idiot, but he didn't even bring the blankets! Besides, why does he look so sheepish, he never does. Not to mention Eddie's just so smug, and wait, their mouths are red and Steve’s hair is a mess as if he had a hand in it, that scarf wasn't around his neck—

Eddie catches Dustin's horrified gaze from across the room and arches an eyebrow before lifting his and Steve’s interlaced fingers in the air.

Oh! It all makes sense.