Eddie always tries to be as quiet as he can when he gets home from late shifts at the bar – holding his keys tightly so they don’t jangle too much and avoiding turning on lights if he can help it. Steve is usually asleep by the time he makes it home smelling of greasy bar food and whatever beer blew its keg that evening all over his uniform tee, and Eddie hates waking him. His boyfriend doesn’t get much sleep as it is. The last thing he needs is for Eddie to come tumbling through the door and interrupting the precious few hours he gets every night.
So every time Eddie gets home from work in the earliest hours of the new day, he tries to be as quiet as possible.
And every time, Steve wakes up anyways.
Contrary to what most people might assume, it’s actually not Eddie’s fault that Steve can never sleep through his homecomings. (Years of living in a thin-walled trailer with a man who worked nights and slept during the days made him a master of moving stealthily through his home, after all.) It’s just that Steve Harrington is the lightest sleeper who’s ever lived.
According to Steve, he wasn’t always this way – he used to sleep through alarm clocks and his mother banging on his bedroom door to get him up for school, when he was younger. No, the light sleeper thing didn’t start until after Steve learned that monsters were real, and it only got worse after Upside Down Part 2: Electric Boogaloo, when suddenly he had a whole troupe of children to worry about all night. Every little creak of the floorboards could be a demogorgon, or a preteen in need of help fighting off a pack of demodogs. Faint police sirens in the distance could be headed to Steve’s house, where some uniformed cop would come knock on the door and tell him that something had happened to one of the kids.
It sounds like a nightmare, in Eddie’s opinion – not being able to sleep more than a handful of hours a night – but Steve always shrugs it off, like he’s already gotten so used to it that he hardly notices it anymore, and Eddie thinks that might be the case. It makes him feel horribly guilty (and maybe a little sad) whenever Eddie is the cause of Steve’s late-night wakefulness, but despite his desire for his boyfriend to get the sleep he needs, Eddie can never quite force himself to be too upset whenever Steve stirs as Eddie tiptoes into their shared bedroom.
Because sleepy Steve Harrington is, frankly, infuriatingly adorable, and tonight is no exception.
He hears, rather than sees, Steve wake up in the darkness of their room. It starts with a little snuffle, then a rustling of bedsheets, and finally – like always – a gravelly, endearingly hopeful, “Eds?”
Eddie’s heart warms in his chest, melting away the ice left there by a long shift dealing with drunk idiots and coworkers who would rather bitch about their jobs than actually do them. His job is exhausting at the best of times, and downright soul-sucking at the worst, but it’s okay, because at least at the end of the day, he gets to come home to this.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he sighs tiredly, ignoring the part of him that balks at being foiled again in his quest to let Steve get some sleep. Carefully, he toes off his shoes and makes his way to the edge of the bed so he can brush a few messy strands of hair from Steve’s forehead.
Steve instantly tilts his head to press into the touch, and Eddie can’t help but smile. “Wha’time s’it?” Steve slurs.
Eddie glances at the clock on their bedside table and nearly winces when he sees just how late it is. “Almost two,” he murmurs guiltily. He can see Steve’s mouth turn down into a frown now that his eyes have adjusted to the lack of light.
“S’late,” Steve mumbles. He rolls onto his side and reaches blindly for Eddie, hand eventually wrapping around Eddie’s bony wrist and squeezing gently in a mostly subconscious show of sympathy. His eyes blink open – bleary and unfocused – and scan over Eddie’s face. “Everything ‘kay?” Even half-asleep, he’s a worrier. Eddie finds it both endearing and a little heartbreaking.
He smiles, despite himself, and begins to card his fingers through Steve’s sleep-mussed hair, an unbearably fond feeling settling in his belly when Steve lets his eyes flutter shut again. “Yeah, sweetheart, everything’s fine,” he assures his tired boyfriend. “Just a long night. Pacers game a few blocks down, y’know? Spent a whole extra hour after close catching up on bar dishes.”
Steve furrows his brow and makes a discontented noise. “Gross,” he mutters, and Eddie huffs out a laugh. God, he is so stupidly in love with this beautiful, bitchy man.
“Very,” he hums in agreement.
“Y’should come to bed,” Steve says, and his voice is almost whiny, just like it always is when he tries to coax Eddie into their bed without a proper shower. He does it almost every night, and it almost never works. It’s certainly not going to work tonight, with Eddie smelling of shitty beer and grease.
“In a bit,” Eddie sighs, bending to press a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Gotta shower first.”
Steve properly whines at that, petulantly mumbling something incoherent.
“Baby, I’m covered in Miller and fryer grease. Do you really want me getting that shit all over our pillowcases?” Eddie says fondly.
“I want you to come cuddle with me,” Steve grumbles.
It takes more effort than is probably reasonable for Eddie to stifle the cackle threatening to burst from his chest. “In a few minutes, ‘kay? Just gonna go wash off real quick, and then I’ll come cuddle, you needy little bastard.”
“You’d better,” Steve says not at all threateningly. Eddie just laughs and kisses his forehead again before dragging himself away and into their little apartment bathroom for a quick shower. There’s a ninety percent chance Steve will be asleep again by the time Eddie makes it into bed, in ten minutes, so he can’t really bring himself to feel too guilty.
Still, true to his word, he showers quickly – rinsing all of the greasy smell out of his hair and scrubbing the spilled beer from his skin. He uses the bergamot soap Steve got him for Christmas, because he knows Steve likes it, and Eddie likes when Steve likes things. (And he’ll never admit this, but he doesn’t hate the smell of bergamot, either.)
When he’s finished, he quickly towels himself off and slips on the pair of plaid boxers Steve left out on the bathroom counter for him earlier (just one of those little, caring things that Steve does every day that make Eddie love him all the more). He plaits his wet curls so he doesn’t wake up with hair worse than Doc from Back to the Future, then he finally, finally, makes his way to bed.
Steve’s breathing is a slow, steady rhythm, but the way he instantly shifts closer to Eddie the moment he climbs into bed is a clear indicator that he hasn’t quite managed to fall back to sleep yet. Eddie has hardly had a chance to pull the covers up before Steve is pushing back into him, silently demanding the safety of his arms.
Eddie is all too happy to oblige.
It’s automatic and achingly familiar when Eddie rolls onto his side and wraps his arms around Steve, pulling his boyfriend close so Steve’s back is pressed to his front. Even then, it doesn’t seem to be close enough for Steve, who wiggles back even further until it nearly becomes impossible to tell where he ends and Eddie begins. It’s so disgustingly sweet that Eddie sort of wants to cry. Instead, he buries his nose in the crook of Steve’s neck and leaves a soft kiss just behind his ear.
“Hi, baby,” Eddie breathes as Steve rests one of his hands atop the one Eddie has tucked under his side and laces their fingers together. He leans forward slightly to kiss Steve’s cheek, just because he can, and before he can pull away to settle against the pillow, Steve turns his head to capture Eddie’s lips in a soft, barely-there kiss. The kind of kiss that instantly settles even the most frantic parts of Eddie’s soul.
“Hey,” Steve murmurs, lips still brushing together, and Eddie can both hear and feel the way his mouth has curved upwards into a smile. Eddie gives him one more peck on the lips before they both fall into their pillows again. “Missed you,” Steve whispers. It makes Eddie smile and shake his head with tired amusement.
“Missed you, too,” he whispers, even though it’s only been ten or so hours since they last saw each other. Christ, when did he become such a goddamn sap?
(He knows the answer to that question, obviously. Eddie “The Freak” became Eddie “The Sap” the first time Steve Harrington looked at him with that secret little smile on his face – the one he reserves for Eddie and Eddie alone, these days. The one that silently says, I love you.)
Steve hums contentedly and snuggles deeper into Eddie. God, he’s so fucking sweet like this. Eddie loves him so fucking much.
“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, moving his free hand to run his fingers through Steve’s hair, because he knows it helps his baby sleep.
Steve’s voice is already sleepy again when he murmurs, “’kay,” and then, even softer: “Love you.”
Eddie smiles. Holds Steve just a little bit tighter. Gives Steve’s hand an extra little squeeze and marvels at the fact that after everything – after murder accusations and monsters and government payouts and three fucking years as a senior at Hawkins High – he gets to have this. And sure, maybe he’s feeling a little extra sappy because of the simple ring he’s got buried in his guitar case – the one Robin helped him pick out just a few days ago, even though they can’t technically get married in the state of Indiana. Maybe that’s why he smiles a bit wider tonight with Steve in his arms…why his heart thumps a bit harder at every sleepy snuffle his boyfriend makes…
But the sappiness stopped bothering him a long time ago, when his sharpest edges were sanded out by the presence of the little family he found in the aftermath of the Upside Down, so Eddie doesn’t mind. Soon, he’ll be able to fall asleep next to his fiancé, instead of his boyfriend. They’ll get to call all of their adoptive rugrats and tell them the news, and Steve will be beaming so brightly it might just blind him. And it’ll be perfect.
For now, Eddie just lets himself sink into the warmth of having Steve Harrington in his arms.
And he sleeps.
This is for @steddie-week Day 5: Established Relationship. Just a little ficlet that popped into my head at literally 2 in the morning. I hope y'all enjoy!
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Steve Harrington learns a lot of things about Eddie Munson in the months following Vecnapocalypse.
He learns who Eddie's favorite bands are and what toppings Eddie likes on his pizza. He learns that Eddie likes to talk, but is also frighteningly observant. He learns what Eddie is like when he's high, when he's drunk, when he's exhausted after weeks of shitty sleep plagued with nightmares. He learns all of these things and more, and he’s surprised to find that he really, really likes what he learns. Because Eddie is weird and loud and quirky, but he's also kind and attentive and the sort of person who just wants to bring a smile to your face when you're hurting, and it's good.
Eddie is good.
The thing Steve learns that he can't seem to stop thinking about, though, is that Eddie is undoubtedly the most physically affectionate person he's ever met.
It starts in the hospital, less than forty-eight hours after Vecna's defeat, when Eddie wakes up. Steve is on Eddie Duty at the time, keeping watch over a man who hasn't woken up since nearly dying in the Upside Down, when suddenly... Eddie's hand twitches. And Steve does what anyone would do - he scrambles to grab hold of it. He takes Eddie's hand and squeezes, and sure enough, Eddie squeezes back and then he just... won't let go. Eddie’s fingers stay curled around Steve’s even when his eyes flutter open, and the nurses come in to check on him. So Steve holds his hand until the drugs pull Eddie back into slumber, and he doesn't think much of it.
Only, after that, it's like the floodgates have opened. Eddie is touching Steve constantly. He's linking their arms while they walk out of the hospital for the first time. He's sitting so close during movie nights that their legs press against each other. He's resting his head on Steve's shoulder - sometimes even dozing there. Or when Steve is tired, he's pulling Steve towards him so Steve can have a few minutes to close his eyes, secure beneath Eddie’s arm.
It's weird, at first, but it's not uncomfortable. Just... different. So Steve just goes with it.
By the time a few months have passed, he's so used to touching Eddie that it hardly feels like anything more than the natural next step when they eventually start sharing a bed.
They're at Steve's house the first time it happens - loose-limbed and sleepy from the joint they shared earlier with Nancy and Robin. The girls have taken the guest room for themselves, and Eddie doesn't even bother to ask where he's going to be sleeping. He just follows Steve to his room and climbs under the covers beside him - both of them stripped down to just a t-shirt and boxers. Steve doesn't question it, not even when Eddie scoots a little bit closer, eyes wide and searching, and brushes Steve's arm with the backs of his fingers.
"Night, Stevie," Eddie says softly, fingers drifting leisurely back and forth on the skin of Steve's bicep. It feels nice. Soothing. It makes him feel strangely warm inside.
So Steve just smiles, wishes him goodnight in return, and lets himself drift off to sleep.
The second time, they're at Eddie's. Steve has rushed over to the trailer in the middle of the night after receiving a frantic, post-nightmare phone call from Eddie. Steve takes one look at the metalhead’s red-rimmed eyes and trembling bottom lip and pulls him into a crushing hug.
Eddie clings to Steve like he's afraid to let go, and Steve lets him. Eventually, they end up in Eddie's bed, but they still haven't let go of each other. Steve lays on his back and wraps his arms around a trembling Eddie, who pillows his head on Steve's chest. Eddie is wrapped around him like a koala, and Steve thinks it should be weird, being so close to another guy, but it's not. It just feels safe, and he gets the best night's sleep he's had in years when they finally find sleep again.
Then, it just sort of keeps happening.
Sometimes, Steve calls Eddie after a nightmare, and Eddie makes the drive to Loch Nora to cuddle Steve back to sleep. Other times, it's the other way around. Sometimes it's neither, and it's just them making excuses to stay over at each other's houses ("I had a beer, so maybe I shouldn't drive"; "I don't wanna drive home in the rain"; "your place is closer to work anyways").
Eventually, they stop making excuses altogether after the night Eddie looks at Steve in the dim light of the trailer and simply murmurs, "I don't want you to go."
After that, most nights look something like this:
Eddie, wrapped around Steve with his chest to Steve's back, pressed together from head to toe, sharing warmth to fend off the broken limbs and cursed bats that haunt their nightmares.
Steve, running his fingers through Eddie's hair while they wait for sleep to take them - Steve on his back, and Eddie with his head resting on Steve's chest and an arm thrown across Steve's stomach, draped across him protectively.
Eddie, curling towards a trembling Steve after a nightmare, foreheads pressed together while Eddie uses gentle hands to wipe away the tears and murmurs soft comforts until the vice around Steve's lungs loosens its grip.
Steve, spooning Eddie from behind, his own knees tucked into the backs of Eddie's, his face buried in the warm juncture of Eddie's neck, and Eddie's soft curls brushing against Steve's cheeks.
It's just them - Eddie and Steve and Steve and Eddie - in the darkest hours, night after night. Sharing breaths and trading secrets and granting trust until one day, Steve wakes up to the feeling of Eddie's warm body against his own, and Eddie's soft breath on his skin, and he realizes that somewhere along the line, something changed.
Somewhere along the line, between nightmares and secrets and achingly gentle touches, Steve fell in love.
And, God, he's still falling.
Eddie wakes only moments later, rolling over beneath Steve's arm so they're no longer spooning, but facing each other, his big, brown eyes landing on Steve's to fix him with a sleepy smile. It's beautiful. Eddie is beautiful, and Steve can't believe he didn't see it before.
He grants Eddie a smile in return, along with a soft, raspy, "Hi."
Eddie's smile widens. "Hi."
Steve stares at him for a long moment, gaze lingering on Eddie's long lashes, on the freckles that dot Eddie's nose and cheeks, so close now that Steve could count them, if he wanted to. He thinks he probably will, one day. The look in Eddie's eyes is soft and open, and the unabashed love shining through them nearly knocks the air from Steve's lungs.
"Did you know?" Steve asks softly, brushing their noses together. "Did you know that I'm in love with you?"
Steve hears Eddie's breath catch. He watches Eddie's eyes widen. "No," Eddie breathes. "But I hoped. God, I fucking hoped."
Steve swallows as his entire body tingles with emotion. He's so happy he sort of wants to cry. He thinks he might, if Eddie keeps looking at him like that - like Steve is a goddamn miracle. "Yeah?" Steve whispers.
Eddie nods, a wobbly smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, Stevie. Don't know if I would've survived, if it was just me."
Steve can't help himself. He kisses Eddie's forehead, lets his lips linger there for a moment before pulling away. "It's not just you, Eds. Promise."
And that morning, Steve Harrington learns yet another thing about Eddie Munson. He learns how Eddie kisses - like Steve is something beautiful. Precious. Worth taking care of. Like Eddie loves him, and Steve loves Eddie.
Steve learns how Eddie kisses, and he thinks it's probably his favorite thing he's learned yet.
When everything settles down after Vecnapocalypse, Steve gets a call from the athletic director at Hawkins High School, and a day later, he accepts a part-time position as the assistant coach of the Hawkins High varsity basketball team.
Lucas is obviously stoked, and the other kids concede (after a few minutes of bemoaning Steve's return to the Dark Side) that it's a perfect job for him. Robin screeches with delight, and Nancy tells him she's proud of him, and Jonathan thumps him on the back with a quiet, "Congrats, man," and Eddie?
Well, Eddie just rolls his eyes and makes a joke about the Return of the King that goes right over Steve's head (but has the kids and, wouldn't ya know it, Nancy, grinning) and doesn't say much else.
It's probably stupid, but Eddie has actually (horrifyingly) grown to like hanging out with Steve. Sure, he knows next to nothing about D&D or Lord of the Rings or metal music, but that doesn't seem to matter all that much. He still listens to Eddie rant about all of those aforementioned interests and does his best to understand, even if he doesn't particularly care about the content of Eddie's latest campaign. He lets Eddie play Dio and Metallica and Black Sabbath for him, and even though Eddie can tell he's not really into most of their music, at the end of his "Musication" he gives Eddie a list of the songs he actually liked, so they have some stuff to listen to when they hang out that won't make one of them want to puncture their own eardrums.
He even looks genuinely apologetic (and, dare Eddie say, disappointed?) when he tells Eddie that it's not that he doesn't want to read Lord of the Rings. It's just that he can't, because reading is really fucking hard when the letters won't stop jumping all over the damn place.
The point is: Eddie likes Steve. He likes Steve's sarcastic quips and his attentiveness, and his hilarious but well-meaning and frighteningly successful mothering of the teenagers they apparently co-parent. Eddie likes Steve, and he likes being his friend, and he's afraid that this stupid Assistant Coach job will end up dragging Steve headfirst back into his King Steve days, and Steve will forget all about being friends with Eddie "The Freak" Munson.
It's so, so stupid, because while Eddie likes Steve, he also knows Steve, and he knows that Steve isn't the guy who used to hang around the Tommy Hagans of the world anymore. But the fear is there, and it's still there by the time the school year starts and Steve starts getting busy "prepping" for his new job, which... what? The basketball season doesn't start until January, so what the hell kind of prep would Steve be starting in August?
Eddie wonders, but he doesn't ask. He just anxiously waits to see if Steve will eventually decide to ditch him, and he continues to be quietly delighted when Steve always, always makes time for the two of them to hang out.
The thought of Steve going back into jock-mode still makes him kinda sick, but he'll never tell Steve that. Steve is way too excited for the start of the basketball season, and Eddie is gonna support him the same way Steve supports Eddie at his Corroded Coffin concerts: with begrudging interest and genuine pride, so help him God.
It goes on like this until one day, Eddie's begrudging interest suddenly becomes a little more genuine, when he accidentally stumbles upon what Steve meant for the last three months whenever he said he was "prepping for the season."
He's got plans to hang out with Steve that afternoon, pulling up in his van fifteen minutes late because time management has never been one of his strong suits. Only, when he gets to Casa Harrington, he notices something strange. The garage is open.
The thing is, Steve always parks the Beemer in the driveway. He never uses the garage. Actually, Eddie didn't even realize Steve had a garage at all, until now, but he hears some clanging coming from inside and goes to investigate. He walks past the Beemer (parked in the driveway where it always is) and peers inside, expecting to maybe find Steve... repairing something? Reorganizing? Honestly, he has no clue what he thinks he'll find in there.
What he definitely doesn't expect to find is Steve Harrington in the middle of what appears to be a pretty fucking intense workout – hair and tank top damp with sweat, wearing frankly indecently short shorts, and breathing steadily as he does fucking pull-ups on the bar in his garage, which has apparently been converted into a whole goddamn home gym.
Eddie stops in his tracks and stares, affording himself a moment or two to have a teeny, tiny (enormous) crisis over it.
Steve hasn't noticed him yet, and Eddie can't tear his stupid eyes away from the way Steve's arms tremble from the exertion as he pulls himself up, face pinched into a concentrated frown. Eddie can see him gritting his teeth, can see the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining a little bit. Even worse, every time Steve lowers himself down, his stupid tank top rides up just enough to expose the (not at all soft, apparently) plains of his stomach, glistening with sweat, and God, Eddie wants to lick Steve fucking Harrington's abs like a-
Oh, no.
Oh, fuck no.
Oh, Jesus H. Christ, fucking shit, NO.
Listen... It's not like Eddie hasn't already known for years that he's gay. He's been fully aware of that since middle school. It's the reason his dad kicked him out and sent him to live with Wayne, for fuck's sake. It's just that Eddie has put a lot of effort into pretending his thoughts about Steve Harrington were totally, completely, 100% platonic up until this point, and now he can feel all of that hard work going down the metaphorical drain.
He stands there, stock still with his jaw hinged open, and stares while his brain melts out of his ears and his thoughts begin to race. God, those fucking arms. Eddie's not weak, but he's definitely weaker than Steve, which means Steve could definitely pin Eddie down if he wanted to. In a bed. Against the wall. On the hood of a car. Fuck, on the goddamn floor – Eddie's not picky! All he knows is that he wants Steve to leave the workout for later so Eddie can lick the sweat off of him, which... gross. But also hot. But also-
"Eddie?"
Oh, fuck. How does one talk to the sun?
Steve has noticed him standing there, obviously, which sort of makes Eddie wonder how long he's been staring. Time stopped in Eddie's world the moment a sweaty Steve Harrington entered his field of vision, so he truly has no idea how bad his staring got.
Christ, this is going to be so bad.
So, so bad.
"Eds?" Steve says, his face pinching into a frown. "You okay?"
Oh my god, you moron, say something! Eddie's brain screams at him.
"What?" Smooth. "Uh, yeah! Totally fine. Just, y'know, like, lost in thought, or whatever. Plotting my next demonic attempt at world domination. The usual."
Steve looks at him like he's grown a second head, which... is fair. But Eddie's fumbling attempt at speech is at least embarrassing enough to take precedence over the cacophonous sound of whatever Ode to Abs his mind was attempting to compose, and Eddie feels like he can think a little more clearly.
"Ah, fuck," Eddie mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighs and looks at Steve apologetically. "I'm sorry, dude. I swear I'm fine. It's just been a weird day."
Steve cocks his head to the side like a particularly inquisitive puppy, and oh God, it's adorable. Eddie loathes how adorable it is. "Good weird?" Steve asks. "Or bad weird?"
Eddie ponders his answer for a moment, then replies with, "Weird weird."
That's enough to startle a laugh out of Steve, who shakes his head and wraps a towel around his neck. "Fair enough, man. Sorry about all of this, by the way." He gestures vaguely towards the home gym in his garage and shrugs sheepishly. "I was gonna be done before you got here but I sorta... lost track of time, I guess." He's got an unreadable look on his stupidly beautiful face, and Eddie doesn't like that at all. He doesn't like that one bit.
But he decides not to overthink it and brushes Steve's apology off with a wave of his hand. "It's whatever, dude. Might wanna shower, though." The ‘otherwise I might take it upon my gay little self to lick you clean’ is left blessedly unsaid.
Steve laughs again, and just like that, things start to feel a bit less earth-shattering. They banter for a bit longer, then Steve really does go to take a quick shower, and they spend the rest of the night lying on the floor of Steve's living room, listening to the metal mix tape they made together and bitching about their brood of teenagers.
Weirdly, though, after that day, Steve seems to be working out a lot more frequently. As in almost every single time he and Eddie have plans. Day after day, Eddie is treated to the sight of Steve Harrington looking like a goddamn Greek god, and day after day, Steve catches his eye and smiles before abandoning his equipment and acting like Eddie's world hasn't been completely turned on its head.
It's starting to drive him kind of insane, honestly, and his pining has gotten so bad that even Gareth and Jeff know.
"He's just so pretty!" Eddie whines for what feels like the thousandth time.
His band mates simply exchange a long-suffering look and let him ramble.
It all comes to a head in November, just before Thanksgiving, when Eddie shows up and once again finds Steve finishing a workout. Just like always, Steve shoots him a good-natured grin and greets him before heading inside for a quick shower, and just like always, Eddie waits downstairs.
NOT like always, however, this time Steve comes jogging down the stairs with wet hair, wearing a pair of joggers and... absolutely nothing else.
It's been a long time since Eddie last saw Steve without a shirt on (since the day at Lover's Lake when they found watergate, to be precise), and suddenly Eddie is remembering why he'd immediately pulled out a cigarette to calm down that day. Only this time it's even worse, because Steve has really been putting effort into these workouts, and it shows.
His chest is toned and covered in coarse hair that Eddie kind of wants to tug on, just to see what sort of sounds Steve would make if he did. He's got the makings of an honest-to-God six pack just barely visible on his abdomen, partially obscured by scars Eddie recognizes from looking at his own in the mirror. Steve's are slightly smaller and not as deep, but they clearly came from the same sets of tiny jaws, and Eddie finds them weirdly comforting, these matching scars that they share. Steve's look pale in contrast against his skin, and God, Eddie just wants to kiss them. He wants to worship them and every other inch of the man who bears them.
The man who definitely just said something Eddie didn't hear because he was too busy trying not to pass out from mere proximity to something so beautiful.
"Sorry, what?" Eddie asks, shaking his head violently in an attempt to dispel his traitorous thoughts.
Steve smirks, but Eddie can see the soft fondness in his eyes when he cocks his head to the side and repeats the words Eddie missed the first time. "I asked if you see something you like, Munson," Steve teases, one hand carding wet hair out of his face, and Eddie just blinks at him.
Play it off, play it off, play it off, his brain supplies helpfully. He can totally play this off. Dudes stare at their friends’ chests all the time, right?
"What?" he practically squeaks. "I- well... no, wait, um... ah, fuck."
So much for plausible deniability.
He's just beginning to feel vaguely panicky when Steve seems to catch on, and he's right in front of Eddie in an instant, concerned, hazel eyes gazing down at Eddie's grimacing face.
"Hey," Steve says, reaching out like he wants to touch Eddie but thinks better of it. "It's okay, man. You're okay. I'm just messing with you."
The impact of his words is instant, and Eddie can feel his face heating up. Of course Steve was joking. God, Eddie is such an idiot.
"Right," Eddie says, voice strained. He rubs his face with both hands, shaking his head lightly. "Duh. Obviously you were teasing." His voice sounds strange even to his own ears, and he's got a weird feeling of anticipation in his stomach that tells him that he's already shown too many of his cards.
"I mean, yeah..." Steve says, seeming nervous for the first time since Eddie got here. His hands flit from the back of his neck to his hair to his waist, like he doesn't know what to do with them. "Teasing is, like, flirting 101, so..."
Eddie freezes.
"Oh my God, wait..." he says slowly, finally daring to meet Steve's confused eyes. "Flirting?"
Steve looks utterly perplexed now, and he does that thing where he cocks his head to the side in confusion.
It's still adorable. Fuck, why is it so adorable?
"Um... yes?" He studies Eddie, seems to register the shock on his face, and then matches it with shock of his own. "Wait, you didn't know? I thought you knew!"
"I most certainly did not!" Eddie counters, feeling a bit like he's having an out-of-body experience.
"Oh my God," Steve says. "Oh my God, Eddie, I've been flirting with you for, like, months!"
"Months?!" Eddie's voice has officially reached the stratosphere.
"Yes!" Steve yelps. He looks torn between laughing and crying, though Eddie thinks it'll be mildly hilarious no matter what choice he makes. "Jesus, dude, I winked at you while I was doing pull-ups last week! What did you think that was?"
"A hallucination!" Eddie says immediately. "You're straight, Harrington!"
At that, Steve snorts, then shakes his head.
Eddie's pretty sure his brain is melting by now.
"Yeah, um, no," Steve says firmly. "I'm definitely not straight."
"You... I... What? Since when?"
"Well..." Steve begins, briefly glancing away. "Since forever, technically. Probably. But officially, since that time I made out with Tommy H. after we got wasted at a party sophomore year. And if that wasn't enough proof, I think the amount of time I’ve spent staring at your ass lately definitely is."
Eddie stares at him. "Am I dead?" he asks dumbly. "Is this Heaven? Am I having a fucking stroke?"
Steve's laughter is bright when it rings through his living room, and Eddie is grateful when Steve carefully raises a hand to cup his cheek, because the soft touch is grounding in the best way.
"Definitely not dead, Eds," Steve says. "And shit, I hope you're not having a stroke. How many fingers am I holding up?"
Eddie just blinks at him, because Steve has one hand on Eddie's cheek and the other on Eddie's arm, and he's definitely not holding up any fingers. "Zero, Harrington, what the fuck?" he says weakly.
Steve laughs – no, scratch that, he giggles. He fucking giggles.
If Eddie isn't dead yet, he's about to be.
"Good. See?" Steve says. "Not having a stroke."
"I don't think that's how strokes work, dude," Eddie says weakly.
"No?" Steve asks, though he's still smiling, and he looks wholly unbothered by Eddie's doubting of his medical prowess.
Eddie shakes his head, eyes wide as Steve huffs out a laugh and slips an arm around his waist to pull him closer. They're practically chest to chest now, and Eddie is suddenly reminded of how very shirtless Steve currently is. He's mildly horrified by the way his hands tremble slightly when he rests them flat against the center of Steve's chest, but it's not like anyone can blame him! He's only ever kissed a couple of people before, and now he's somehow found himself in the arms of a half naked Steve Harrington. So, yeah, he's feeling a little jittery. Sue him.
If Steve notices the jitters, though, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he gives Eddie a soft, disarming smile that makes Eddie feel pathetically weak at the knees. "So..." Steve says, cheeks turning a pretty pink color. "Hi."
A slightly manic bark of laughter bursts from Eddie's lungs, but it only seems to make Steve smile wider. "Yeah, hi, Stevie," Eddie breathes.
And then he nearly stops breathing completely when Steve's thumb drags gently across his cheek. It's such a sweet gesture that Eddie thinks he might melt right into the floorboards.
"So..." Steve murmurs again, gaze not leaving Eddie's. "It has recently been brought to my attention that you didn't realize I was flirting with you this whole time."
Eddie doesn't need a mirror to know that his face flushes bright red at Steve's words.
"But I have been," Steve continues. He bites his lip, almost like he's nervous, which is ridiculous because what the fuck is there about Eddie that could be making Steve Harrington nervous right now? "Like, I've been doing it constantly, because you're funny, and sweet, and sort of adorable, but also kinda hot? Y'know, because you have the tattoos and stuff, and you're all dramatic all the time, and it's hot, but then sometimes you do that thing where you hide your face behind your hair, and it's so fucking cute, Eddie, I mean..."
Steve trails off, cheeks growing even pinker after seemingly realizing that he's been rambling, and Eddie feels like he's going insane.
"Anyway," Steve says, clearing his throat. "I like you, Eddie. Like, a lot. And I've sort of been dying to kiss you for, like, months, so-"
Eddie never lets Steve finish his sentence, because the moment the word kiss leaves his mouth, Eddie is leaning forward and pressing their lips together in a soft, fleeting kiss that's over far too fast.
So fast, in fact, that it takes a moment for reality to catch up to Eddie afterwards. He's already pulling away by the time it hits him: he just kissed Steve Harrington.
He, Eddie fucking Munson, just kissed Steve fucking Harrington.
"Holy shit," Eddie mutters, gaze flitting back and forth between Steve's wide eyes. "Holy shit."
There's a brief pause, and then Steve starts to laugh.
It starts as a soft chuckle and slowly transforms into bright, elated laughter that echoes off the walls and bathes the whole room in sunlight, never mind the rainy day outside. It's light and happy and beautiful, and Eddie unfreezes after a moment to add his own laughter to the mix. He drops his head onto Steve's shoulder, a shiver running down his spine when Steve's arms come around him automatically, like they were made to fit together like this.
Eddie wonders if maybe they were.
When their laughter finally dies down, Steve carefully pulls back just enough to meet Eddie's eyes again, and Eddie smiles shyly up at him.
"Sorry," Eddie says without a hint of guilt in his voice. "You said the word kiss and I panicked."
Steve just shakes his head and grins. "See? Like I said - adorable." One of his hands raises to cradle Eddie's cheek again, and Eddie doesn't hesitate before leaning into the touch. "But if it's okay with you," Steve says softly, “I'd really like to give you a proper kiss, now."
And yep, it's official. Steve Harrington is going to be the death of him.
Eddie can't fucking wait.
He nods and lets his gaze flit down to Steve's lips for a fraction of a second before Steve is closing the distance between them, and oh... this is so much better than the quick, vaguely frantic press of lips they exchanged only a few moments ago. Eddie takes back every judgemental comment he's ever made about the girls who were obsessed with Steve Harrington in high school, because he gets it now.
Oh, God, he gets it.
Because Steve kisses him, soft and sure, like Eddie is the only thing that matters in all the world. It's gentle and sweet and perfect – not an ounce of hesitation in the way Steve slots their lips together. And then Steve just... stays there, like he's giving Eddie a moment to catch up, to process what's happening.
He's so goddamn patient – so fucking kind – and Christ, Eddie adores him for it.
Steve pulls back just enough to break the kiss, and Eddie doesn't whine. He doesn't. But it's okay, because Steve doesn't leave him hanging for long, threading his fingers through Eddie's curls and using them as leverage to tug him even closer into a kiss that turns Eddie's legs to jelly. Steve's tongue slides against Eddie's so beautifully, and his hands are so strong, and he smells like lemony soap and minty toothpaste (did Steve brush his teeth after showering? God, he's ridiculous. He’s perfect.) and Eddie can feel the muscles in Steve's chest shift whenever they move, and, and, and...
And yeah, this time when Steve pulls away, breath coming quicker and eyes shining with happiness, Eddie does whine. Or maybe it's a whimper. Maybe it's both. Christ, Eddie doesn't care. He'll keep making that noise forever if Steve keeps looking at him like this.
"Fuck," Eddie breathes. He knows he probably looks embarrassingly awestruck, but he can't find it in himself to care. "How are you so fucking hot, Steve? What the fuck?" His face is on fire, but Steve just laughs – nope, there's that giggle again – and kisses Eddie's forehead.
Eddie's pretty sure he's melting, but honestly? Worth it.
"I don't know if you've noticed," Steve teases, "but I've actually been working out a lot lately..."
Not even Eddie's lovesickness could protect Steve from the playful smack he gets for that.
"Did I notice?" Eddie huffs. "You're the worst, Harrington."
Nancy Wheeler has always been observant. It's something she prides herself on, if she's honest. It's what she knows will make her an excellent investigative reporter one day. It helps her make connections that other people might miss and remember the smallest of details that could make or break a story.
Perhaps most importantly, it's what makes her good at reading people – their micro-expressions, their body language, what makes them tick. She's good at it with anyone, but especially when it comes to the people she knows best.
So it's only logical that she's the first to notice when Steve starts to fall for Eddie Munson.
The signs are subtle, at first, but they're there, and Nancy can see them from a mile away. She's got the added bonus of having been the object of Steve's affections, once upon a time, so she knows what to look for. She knows that with Steve, it always starts with the lingering glances. He's never been able to keep his eyes off the people he wants, and it's this that first clues her in on the whole thing.
She's at Penny's Diner with Steve, Robin, and Eddie, and their waitress is laying it on thick, flirting relentlessly with Steve, batting her eyelashes dramatically and swaying her hips more than is objectively necessary whenever she walks away. And sure, Steve hasn't gone for any of the girls that act this way around him in a long time, but he always, always looks. Hell, even Nancy looks, sometimes, when a girl is objectively pretty. She's big enough to admit (to herself, at least) that boys aren't the only dating pool she's interested in, now that she and Jonathan are done.
But that day at Penny's, Steve doesn't give the poor waitress so much as a second glance, because that day, Steve can't seem to stop looking at Eddie.
At first, Nancy is sure she's imagining it – the way Steve's eyes linger on the dungeon master like he can't bring himself to look away – but it gets harder and harder to deny the longer they sit there sipping their milkshakes. Eddie is debating something silly with Robin, and Steve is just... watching him.
Steve's got this fond little smile on his face, and it's a look Nancy recognizes immediately. It used to be directed at her. And honestly? She's a bit relieved it's not, anymore, because she loves Steve, but not like that. Not the way she was worried Steve still loved her... the way she wonders if Steve might be falling for Eddie.
She sort of keeps an eye out for things, after that day – the little things that give Steve away when he's crushing hard on somebody. The lingering glances. The soft smiles. The brief touches. The flimsy excuses for stepping into Eddie's space, like the day Steve sees Eddie struggling with the lighter, and instead of just lending Eddie his own, he steps forward until their shoes are practically touching and holds up the flame for him.
She sees it all and wonders how in the world nobody else has caught on yet. Even Robin, Steve's best friend in the entire world, seems puzzled by the sudden lack of dates on Steve's calendar. Sometimes Nancy wants to grab her by the shoulders and tell her to just think a little harder.
(Nancy wants to grab Robin by the shoulders for other reasons, too – reasons that involve pulling Robin closer and kissing the living daylights out of her – but that's neither here nor there.)
But no matter how long Steve's pining lasts, no matter how obvious he's getting, nobody else seems to notice. It's mildly infuriating, but Nancy isn't about to talk to anyone else about it. It's dangerous being queer in this part of Indiana, and even though she knows that their little monster-fighting family won't care, it's still not her secret to tell.
It all comes to a head at a bonfire one night, midway through the summer, when the kids are once again grilling Steve on his sudden lack of a dating life. And it's Max who first cottons on to the most plausible explanation.
"Oh my God, wait, you like someone!" Max gasps midway through Dustin's interrogation.
There's a brief silence, and then the kids are all shouting.
"Oh, shit, Max, you're right. He totally does!" Dustin cries.
Steve tries to protest, but it's useless, because ever since Steve shed his royal persona two years ago, he's been a truly terrible liar. He looks like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and vaguely panicky, but Dustin Henderson has never been very good at letting things go.
"You have to tell us who it is!" Dustin presses. "We're your friends, Steve. Friends tell each other things. Unless..." Dustin gasps dramatically. "Unless she's someone we know..."
That shuts everyone up all at once, even Robin and Eddie, who have been having their own little conversation off to the side. Everyone stares at Steve, and then half of their eyes go to Nancy herself, and the other half land on Robin. It might make Nancy laugh, if Steve didn't look so close to throwing up.
"Right, well this is stupid," Steve says, smacking his hands on his knees and pushing up out of the chair. "I'm going to get another drink, and when I get back, we're dropping this."
He turns and hurries into the house, and Nancy glances around their little circle. Robin looks confused, but mostly worried. Eddie looks vaguely sick. And most of the kids just look shocked. They all start to murmur amongst themselves after the door slides shut behind Steve's retreating form. Nancy sees the way his whole body seems to sag, watching through the glass, and decides she's had enough.
She gets up, ignoring the way the murmuring gets louder as she walks, and follows him.
She finds Steve bent over the kitchen counter, palms pressed into the granite and head bent towards his chest. He looks like he's on the verge of panicking, and her heart aches for him. He's been through so much – some of which Nancy knows is her fault – and God, she just wants him to be happy for once.
"Steve?" she says softly.
Steve flinches at the sound of her voice, like he was so lost in thought he didn't even realize she'd followed him.
"There's something I wanted to-"
"Before you say anything, it's not you," he interupts flatly before she can finish. He pushes off the counter to look at her with sad, earnest eyes. "I know things were, like, weird when we were in the Upside Down, and we never really talked about it, but... I don't feel that way about you anymore. So you don't have to worry."
Nancy just blinks at him.
"That... that's what you wanted to talk about, right?" he asks.
"No, actually," Nancy says carefully. "I sort of knew you didn't feel like that about me, and I don't feel that way about you, so that's a non-issue, but..."
Steve looks relieved for a second, then tenses up again. "But...?" he says, raising an eyebrow.
"I, um... I think I might have an idea who it is – if Max is right, that is, and you really do like someone," she says.
Steve sighs. "It's not Robin, if that's what you're thinking."
"No," Nancy says softly, shaking her head. "No, it's not."
Steve frowns and averts his eyes, arms crossing protectively over his chest. He doesn't say anything.
Nancy considers her options. She wonders how she should play this, how to go about bringing this up. In the end, she just goes with her gut.
"Did you know I like girls?" she asks. It's the first time she's said it aloud to anyone, but it feels good. It feels like the right time. Besides, she wants to do this for Steve – to make him feel more comfortable. It's the least she can do.
Steve's eyes snap up to look at her again.
"I still like boys, too, but yeah... I like both, so..." She takes a deep breath. "If there was anything you wanted to tell someone about how you feel about... someone else... I'm not going to judge you."
Steve bites his lip. He looks painfully conflicted, and a little bit like he might cry. "I, uh..." he stammers. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath… clears his throat. "Okay first of all, thank you for trusting me with that, and you know I support you. I just want you to be happy, Nance."
Nancy nods, because she knows. She's always known. "That's what I want for you, too," she says. She takes a step forward and takes one of his hands in hers, because Steve's eyes are getting watery, and she hates seeing people cry. "You don't have to tell me, but if you want-"
"I think I like Eddie," Steve says suddenly, voice whisper-soft. He looks terrified when he meets Nancy's eyes again. "I, um... yeah. I like Eddie."
Nancy offers him what she hopes is an encouraging smile and nods. "Yeah, I kinda figured."
"Shit, am I that obvious?" Steve says weakly, and Nancy can't help but laugh softly.
"God, no," she says. "Well, to me, you are, but to everyone else? God, they're clueless. I promise you that nobody else has any clue, and it's been driving me crazy."
To her relief, Steve huffs out a soft laugh, as well. "Yeah, well, you've always been sort of freakishly observant, haven't you?"
It's true. She's always been like this, and that's precisely why she feels confident enough to make her next statement.
"You should tell him, Steve," she says.
Because Steve isn't the only person she's been watching for the past few months.
She's been watching Eddie, too, so she's seen Eddie's dopey, smitten smile whenever Steve makes a terrible joke. She's watched Eddie pull his hair in front of his mouth bashfully after Steve teases him. She's seen the blush on Eddie's cheeks whenever Steve steps into his personal space.
Steve Harrington isn't the only one who's been busy falling in love.
As usual, nobody else has noticed.
"No, absolutely not," Steve says, pulling his hand away and running both hands through his hair instead. "Are you crazy, Nance? He'll hate me!"
Nancy is pretty sure she deserves an Oscar for keeping her expression neutral, because the urge to roll her eyes is physically painful to resist.
"Steve," she says calmly. "I love you, and I love Eddie, but the two of you are idiots if you can't see how hard you've been pining over each other, and I am not above physically knocking your heads together to get you to realize that."
Steve's eyebrows disappear behind his hairline, and Nancy almost laughs. "Jesus, when did you get so threatening, Wheeler?" he grumbles, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. It's quickly swept away by fear, though, and Nancy's heart breaks a little when Steve looks at her with those puppy-dog eyes of his and asks, "What if you're wrong?"
She's only just opened her mouth to reply when the sliding door opens again, and someone else joins them in the kitchen.
Eddie's eyes dart back and forth between Nancy and Steve assessingly, and Nancy has to bite back a laugh because oh. Eddie was jealous.
"Sorry to interrupt," Eddie says, one eyebrow raised. "Just wanted to make sure everything was okay." He focuses his gaze on Steve, eyes softening. It's disgustingly adorable, how earnestly concerned he looks. "You doin' alright, Stevie? Kinda left in a hurry back there."
Steve glances at Nancy, face becoming redder by the second. Nancy smiles.
"Well I'm going to let you talk," she says casually. Steve's eyes nearly bug out of his head, but she puts both hands on his shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes before he can protest. "But to answer your question from before... I'm not wrong," she murmurs softly, so only Steve can hear.
She pats him gently on the cheek and turns on her heel before Steve can respond, catching Eddie's eye on the way out. He looks perplexed, and she just smiles.
The kids hardly notice when she rejoins the circle around the fire. They've already moved on to topics that don't involve their babysitter's love life, but Robin still looks worried. It's cute. God, Robin is so cute, Nancy can hardly stand it.
"Is he okay?" Robin asks quietly. "He looked pretty upset when he left, and then you guys were gone for a while, and Eddie thought maybe you were getting back together, but I told him that was ridiculous, and now neither of them are back yet, and-"
"They're fine, I promise," Nancy says with a grin, interrupting Robin’s rambling. "They just... needed a little nudge."
Nancy gets to see the moment it clicks for Robin, and it's only a little bit hilarious. "Wait..." Robin says, mouth dropping open. "Steve...?"
Nancy nods, smile widening.
"And Eddie?"
"Yep," Nancy says. Robin looks on the verge of a massive freakout (a positive one, obviously, but a freakout nonetheless), and Nancy doesn't want her to unwittingly out both of the boys to the kids, so she changes the topic. She figures if she's making Steve deal with his feelings, she might as well do the same. You know, solidarity, and all that.
"By the way," Nancy says coolly, quietly, "did you know I'm bisexual?"
She has to cover Robin's mouth with her hand to stop her shriek of surprise, but it's worth it, because Robin instantly turns into a blushing, stuttering mess, and it's so stupidly endearing. Nancy wants to kiss her until neither of them can remember their own names.
It's even more endearing when Nancy tells her, "Yeah, so I'd really like to talk later, after the kids go to bed, if that's okay?" And Robin looks like she might faint when she blushes and whimpers out a yes.
Nancy just grins and threads their fingers together, hands tucked out of sight from the kids.
They're still sitting like that when Steve and Eddie finally come out of the house after a very long time, both boys looking flushed and a bit disheveled, but happy.
"Thought you were getting another drink?" Erica snarks at Steve when they sit down, and Nancy snorts, because Steve definitely returned empty-handed.
Steve's eyes widen and he looks at Eddie sheepishly. "I, uh... got a little distracted."
Only Max seems to recognize the implications, because her jaw drops, but Robin nudges her with her foot before she can say anything, and Max instantly shuts her mouth. She's still got a knowing look on her face, but Nancy knows she won't go outing anyone to the others. She's a good kid.
"God, you have the attention span of a puppy, Steve, I swear," Dustin grumbles, and the conversation quickly moves on.
Nancy is mostly quiet for the rest of the night, silently observing all of her friends and reveling in the feeling of Robin's hand in hers. She watches as Max tentatively rests her head on Lucas's shoulder. Watches Lucas's eyes widen and sees the internal freakout happening in his mind. She sees the way Eddie and Steve sit closer than before, practically on top of each other, faces flushed with happiness while they all make s'mores. She watches her brother look hopelessly confused sitting between Will and El, because he hasn't yet realized that while he is in love with one of them, it's not the one he thinks it is.
And at the end of the night, after the kids are all settled in the massive living room and she and Robin head for the guest room, Nancy catches Steve's eye. He and Eddie are holding hands now that they're out of sight of the kids, and Eddie can't stop staring at Steve like he's some sort of miracle. But just this once, Steve tears his eyes away from Eddie to meet Nancy's.
He smiles, mouths thank you, and gives an approving nod when his eyes land on her hand, which is still wrapped around Robin's.
Nancy just smiles and nods, and watches as Eddie impatiently tugs Steve into the bedroom and shuts the door. As Robin does the same to her, pulling her eagerly into the guest room, she has a wild thought.
If the investigative journalism thing doesn't work out, there's always the option of matchmaker.
She's apparently pretty damn good at it, after all.
CWs: discussions of sexuality (particularly demisexuality, though Steve and Eddie don’t know a term for it at the time), VERY mild sexual context
Steve Harrington has had a lot of sex.
He's not, like, trying to brag about it, or anything. Frankly, he's not even sure it's something he would want to brag about in the first place. It's just an objective fact.
The sky is blue. The Earth is round. Water is wet.
And Steve Harrington has had a lot of sex.
Which is...well, a little bit bizarre, considering the fact that he's not entirely convinced he actually enjoys it most of the time.
At first, he chalks it up to inexperience. Everyone's first times were a little bit awkward, weren't they? Maybe everyone felt weird and a little bit off-kilter the first time someone touched them like that. Maybe everyone felt icky for hours afterwards, like something was just off. Steve had spent his childhood going to church on Sundays (at least, until he turned 10, and Richard and Susan decided he no longer needed luxuries like parents), so maybe it was just guilt.
That was a thing, right? Catholic guilt, or whatever? He'll get over it. He's sure of it.
Only...he's less sure of it several months later, when he still can't get rid of that stupid icky feeling, and he can never quite grasp what Tommy is talking about whenever the dude starts obsessing over wanting to fuck some pretty actress in whatever movie they’re watching. When he’s with a girl, he feels anxious the moment clothes start to come off, despite the fact that he wants this. He wants to have sex. He wants someone to touch him and make him feel good. He wants to do the same for someone else. But it always feels wrong.
The only part he really likes is what comes after, when he can wrap his arms around whatever girl he's with that week and just hold her - no more sex required, now that it's over and done with. That part feels good. Amazing, even. He loves having someone to cuddle up with - to make him feel less alone in his fucking mausoleum of a house. It's nice. It feels good.
He's pretty sure it's the only reason he keeps having sex in the first place. It's like a transaction. Steve gets the girls off, and in exchange, they stick around for a little while afterwards to fill the echoing silence of Steve's house with soft laughter and quiet words.
And sure...sometimes Steve sort of falls apart after they leave to get home before their curfews. Usually, it just leaves him feeling squirmy and anxious. But sometimes, when it's especially bad, Steve sits on the floor of the shower with his arms around his knees for ages and cries until the water gets cold, unable to wash the icky feeling away.
He knows he should stop doing this to himself, but God, he's so fucking lonely, and now he's made a reputation for himself. Now there are expectations, and if Steve has learned one thing from Richard Harrington, it's that living up to expectations is the most important thing in life.
So he keeps doing it. His technique gets better, despite how wrong he feels, and the girls keep coming. And Steve keeps wondering what the fuck is wrong with him - why he feels physically pleasured enough to come most of the time, but always hates himself afterwards.
Then, at the beginning of his junior year, he starts dating Nancy Wheeler.
He knows right away that this feels different from any of his other flings. Nancy is sweet, and smart, and just a bit of a firecracker, and Steve loves it. Even better, she doesn't try to get him into bed on their first date, or their second, or even their third. It's not until the pool party that things take a more intimate turn between them, and by then, Steve is smitten.
He waits for the ick to kick in while he caresses her and kisses her everywhere - waits for the feeling of weirdbadwrong to make itself known - but this time... it doesn't. This time, Steve looks down at his partner and is stunned by how beautiful she looks. It's never been like this with any of the other girls - he's never wanted any of them quite like this - and for the first time, Steve really, genuinely enjoys having sex.
There's no ick; no uncomfortable feeling in his belly that sort of makes him feel ill. There's just Nancy, who looks and sounds beautiful, and smiles at him as they doze off together afterwards. It's amazing. It's perfect.
Steve thinks that maybe he's normal, after all.
He should know better than to get his hopes up, by now.
The next year is a whirlwind of absolute insanity. There are monsters, and alternate dimensions, and little kids with honest-to-God superpowers, and funerals... and sex becomes the least of Steve's worries.
He and Nancy are only intimate a handful of other times, after that first night (it's hard to get in the mood when all either of them can think about is how the first time they did this, her best friend was dying), and despite everything else going on, the ick, at least, stays away. It seems to be proof that Steve isn't broken or weird. He just needed some time to get used to sex.
He realizes how wrong he is the first time he tries to hook up with someone after Nancy breaks his heart, when the ick comes back. After that, he only tries once more, and then he just stops trying to score entirely... pretends he's just lost his touch and feels secretly relieved every time Robin Buckley puts a tally under the "You Suck" side of the whiteboard in the back room.
It goes on like this until March of 1986, when Eddie Munson comes barrelling into his life and changes everything.
His relationship with Eddie is unlike any he's ever had. They start out as tentative friends after everything with Vecna is finally over, and then it grows from there.
They hang out with the kids at Steve's place, which eventually turns into them hanging out without the kids. They talk about the weather, and the Upside Down, and music, and DnD campaigns. Anything and everything that comes to mind. Eddie tells Steve how he came to live with Wayne, and in return, Steve tells Eddie about his parents - about how he sometimes feels like he's haunting his own home.
(Eddie starts making excuses to stay the night more often, after that conversation, and Steve doesn't mention it, but he notices.)
And one day he looks over at Eddie, who's talking animatedly to El while Steve pops popcorn for their movie night, and suddenly, it hits him like a goddamn truck.
Eddie Munson is beautiful.
Steve can barely breathe as the realization takes hold, because he's not used to seeing people this way. He can appreciate when someone is objectively attractive, sure, but he rarely looks at someone and wants like this. He rarely looks at a person and wonders what their lips would feel like against his own, or what sort of sounds they make when they come, or what they'd look like with Steve's love bites riddling their skin...
He's only looked at one other person this way before: Nancy, after they'd been dating for a few weeks and had gotten to know each other better.
He's so shocked by the sheer amount of wanting he's feeling for Eddie that he blows right past the gay panic part of his bisexual awakening, straight into bumbling idiot with a crush territory.
And really, it must be obvious, because two weeks later, Eddie's gaze locks onto Steve's while they're sitting on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water, and Eddie smiles. It's a soft, gentle thing - so different from the maniacal grins he gives the kids when they're all hanging out together - and it steals all of the breath from Steve's lungs. His heart races as the air around them shifts, and for once, it's out of excitement rather than anxiety.
Eddie's voice is devastatingly timid when he murmurs, "Stevie, can I kiss you?"
Steve feels like he could cry out of happiness. His answer is a simple nod, and when Eddie kisses him slowly, sweetly, chastely, Steve can feel any remaining anxiety melting away.
Because this kiss isn't a demand, or a prelude to all of those other activities that Steve wants but isn't sure he's quite ready for with Eddie, yet. It's not a challenge.
It's a promise - a promise that this thing that's been blossoming between them over the last few months is real. Wordlessly, Eddie vows to treat him with care, and Steve does the same in kind.
And it's perfect.
They take things slow - slower than Steve and Nancy did, and definitely slower than Steve's ever gone with anyone else. Steve doesn't ask for sex, now that he no longer has a persona to uphold, and Eddie doesn't push. They're both perfectly content to share soft kisses and quiet words while they lay tangled together in one of their beds with their pajamas on, for now.
It takes more than a month for Eddie to bring it up.
"Baby, can I ask you something?" Eddie asks quietly.
They're curled up in Steve's bed after a long day taking the kids swimming at the quarry, and neither of them have said much for the last half hour or so. Eddie has been flipping through one of his D&D books, and Steve has been laying with his head pillowed on Eddie's chest, listening to his boyfriend's occasional mutterings about tieflings and trolls and some sort of forest quest. He's not even sure Eddie realizes he mutters to himself while he reads, and that just makes Steve love it even more.
Steve just hums sleepily and props his chin on Eddie's sternum to look up at him, face immediately falling into a frown. Eddie looks contemplative and a little nervous, and Steve already hates whatever this conversation is going to be about. He doesn't like it when Eddie is upset. It breaks his heart every time.
Swallowing thickly, he pushes himself off of Eddie's chest so they can lay on their sides facing each other, hands tangling between them because they're always touching these days. "What's up, Eds?" Steve asks. He hopes his voice is encouraging and doesn't give away the anxiety beginning to roll in his stomach.
Eddie hesitates, face scrunching up adorably like it always does when he's thinking too hard about something.
"We don't have sex," Eddie finally blurts out unceremoniously.
Steve's heart plummets, but he tries to keep his tone light when he speaks. "Is there a question in that...?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
Eddie won't meet his eyes, and it makes Steve feel strangely off-kilter. Eddie hasn't been this skittish around him in months.
"I don't know, just... doesn't that bother you, or something?" he says finally.
Steve deflects. "Does it bother you?"
He's dreading Eddie's answer.
But he only dreads it for a moment, because Eddie's eyes go wide and apologetic immediately. "No! No, Stevie, I'm fine with what we've been doing," Eddie says quickly. "I mean, I want to do more, you know? But it's totally fine if you don't. I guess I'm just worried I'm... boring you?"
Steve's expression must be incredulous, because Eddie backtracks instantly.
"Wow, okay, that sounded way worse out loud than it did in my head. Jesus H. Christ," Eddie sighs.
"Why would you think you're boring me?" Steve asks, unable to let it go, because it's quite possibly the most ridiculous thing Eddie has ever said (and that is a high bar to clear). In what world could Eddie - funny, unpredictable, unbearably sweet Eddie - be boring?
Eddie winces, then shrugs. "I don't know, man, you're just..." He pauses; Steve waits. "You're Steve Harrington, you know? It's not exactly a secret that you got around while we were in school. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing!" Eddie clarifies. "Whatever you did before doesn't bother me because it doesn't matter anymore, right? But you obviously like having sex, and we obviously haven't done anything more than kiss yet, and I was just wondering if that bothered you, I guess..."
For a moment, Steve considers lying. He considers telling Eddie that it doesn't bother him, but that he's ready for more if Eddie is, because it sounds like Eddie might be, and Steve doesn't want to disappoint him. He's pretty sure he could have a decent enough time having sex with Eddie if that's what Eddie wants. He could bite the bullet in the name of keeping everything else - the amazing parts of this little thing between them that make every part of Steve's soul feel warm and comforted and held.
So, yeah. He considers it - lying and putting on a good face while he gives Eddie what everyone always seems to want from Steve Harrington - but then he meets Eddie's eyes and reconsiders.
Eddie's gaze is open and kind and nervous, not expectant. He looks vulnerable and more than a little self-conscious, and in that moment, Steve decides that he's not going to let this thing with Eddie meet the same uncomfortable end as all the others. If Eddie can be vulnerable, if Eddie can be open and honest, then Steve can meet him halfway and do the same.
"What if I don't?" he asks, voice weak and unsure. He sounds so small - like a child, almost - and he hates it.
Eddie frowns. "What if you don't what?"
"You said it was obvious that I liked having sex," Steve replies shakily. He can't quite meet Eddie's eyes, but he sees Eddie's hesitant nod out of the corner of his eye. "Well... what if I don't?"
Steve wonders if the silence that follows feels as deafening and suffocating to Eddie as it does to him.
"I don't understand..." Eddie says. His voice is soft, like he's afraid he might scare Steve away, and Steve realizes suddenly that his own hands are trembling.
"I-" he murmurs haltingly. "It's just... sex is sort of weird for me, sometimes." He pauses, then quietly adds, "Most of the time, actually." He chances a look at Eddie's face and immediately wishes he hadn't, because Eddie's frown is deep and concerned and Steve doesn't know how to fix it.
"Okay," Eddie says slowly, giving Steve's hands a reassuring squeeze. "Do you think you could tell me what you mean by that?"
And, well... Steve does his best to explain. He tells Eddie about the way he'd felt icky back in high school, whenever he hooked up with some random girl from his class. He tells Eddie that he'd wanted to have sex, but for some reason it always seemed to feel like something was off. Sometimes, it felt like something was missing. Other times, it felt like too much.
Steve tells him about the times when he felt wrong-footed and uncomfortable for hours afterwards, even long after the girl had left. He quietly recounts, with flushed cheeks and watery eyes, those few occasions that had made him feel so terrible he'd sat on the shower floor and cried until the hot water ran out, unable to wash the feeling away.
He tells Eddie everything - about those precious few times with Nancy when he'd felt normal, about his attempts after their breakup that made him feel weirdbadwrong once again, about his relief every time he scared a new girl off at Scoops with his purposefully dismal flirting.
Steve tells Eddie everything, and Eddie listens.
By the end, there are tear tracks on Steve's face, trailing downwards towards a small damp spot on his pillow, but Eddie takes it all in stride. He simply raises a hand to brush away the tears and presses his lips to Steve's forehead, all while thanking Steve for telling him, and assuring Steve that there's no pressure, with them. There's no timeline, no expectation of sex, and there never will be. Eddie is happy to wait as long as Steve needs, and if the time never comes, then that's alright, too.
The thought alone brings additional tears of relief to Steve's eyes, and he feels a part of his heart unclench when Eddie's arms wrap around him that night as they drift off to sleep, just as they've done most nights for the last month. He feels safe inside the cocoon of Eddie’s arms, in the knowledge that Eddie knows, now, and he’s not going anywhere. Any lingering anxiety dissipates entirely the following morning, when Eddie bitches and moans about being woken up for work, but still kisses Steve just as sweetly before he goes, no less adoring than the day before.
It gives Steve honest-to-God butterflies, and he feels a bit like a lovesick teenager when he watches Eddie pull out of the driveway that morning. He wonders if maybe they’ll just carry on as though nothing has changed at all.
In the end, things do change, but it doesn’t take long for Steve to realize they’ve changed for the better. Their conversation seems to have opened the door for the kind of vulnerability that Steve’s never had with anyone else before, and it’s nice. More than nice, actually. It comes with the sort of honesty and trust he’s longed for his entire life. It comes with sweet kisses that never become too insistent, and soft touches that never wander into unwanted places. For the first time, Steve can relax and let himself be cared for…let himself fall even deeper in love with Eddie Munson than he already is.
Things progress, despite remaining temporarily paused on the physical front. They tell Robin about their relationship, and after she’s done half-crying, half-laughing her way through congratulating them, she gives Eddie an astonishingly frightening shovel-talk. They tell Dustin a few days later, and then the rest of the kids and Nancy. They go on their first official date at the drive-in, where they can cuddle up without needing to worry about the prying eyes of the ignorant assholes who make up most of the population of Hawkins.
A little over a month after The Talk, Steve holds Eddie’s hand while Eddie tells his Uncle Wayne that they’re together, and after Wayne wraps Eddie up in the biggest bear-hug of all time, he does the same to Steve and assures him that as long as he never hurts Wayne’s boy, Steve will always be welcome in the Munson home. Steve doesn’t comment on the tears shining in Eddie’s eyes, but he holds Eddie extra tightly that night. Tells Eddie how proud he is. Wonders how much longer he’ll be able to stop himself from slipping up and confessing exactly how much he loves Eddie.
And one day, after months of chaste kisses and soft, conservative touches…Steve feels ready for more.
They start slow, at Eddie’s insistence and to Steve’s relief. At first, it’s nothing but the two of them laying in Eddie’s bed, jerking themselves off side by side. They’re barely touching, aside from the occasional brush of the arm, but Steve feels like he’s on fire in the best way. Eddie’s choked off gasps go straight to his dick, and they come within seconds of each other, too satisfied to be embarrassed about how quickly the whole thing happens.
The next night, when they get their hands on each other, Steve’s are trembling with nerves frayed from wondering if the icky weirdbadwrong feeling will rear its head. But Eddie’s voice is soft and soothing, and his touch is no less gentle than it always is when he wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock for the first time. Instead of the prickly, icy feeling he usually gets, Steve thinks that this feels perfect. Like slipping into a warm bath after a long day out in the cold. It doesn’t take long for him to forget all about his worry that it might feel wrong when he’s lost in Eddie’s whispered encouragement and soft touches.
He comes that night with Eddie’s name on his lips, and when his fingers tremble as he returns the favor for his boyfriend, it’s out of excitement, not fear.
Steve tells Eddie he loves him a little over a week later, after a Corroded Coffin show at the Hideout.
Eddie says it back.
And the icky feeling continues to stay away, for the most part.
Of course, there’s still a bit of a learning curve when it comes to their sex life. There are days when Steve feels detached - untethered to the world around him, like he’s just going through the motions of life - and he can’t do anything sexual without feeling a bit like he wants to crawl out of his own skin. And they never have sex when they’re angry with each other, because the one time they try, Steve breaks down halfway through, unable to shake the feeling of wrongness that courses through his veins like poison.
It’s a lot of trial and error, and many very honest conversations, but it works. Eddie is never pushy - never seems to get frustrated with Steve’s oddly fickle relationship with sex - and eventually, Steve stops getting frustrated with himself. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s not broken. He just is the way he is, and he doesn’t need to change that. Every once in a while, he wishes he knew someone else who felt like this, just to have someone to talk to, but it’s hard to feel lonely when he gets to fall asleep in Eddie’s arms every single night once they move in together in 1988.
Eventually, he sort of forgets about ever feeling broken in the first place, after years spent with a man who loves him unconditionally, exactly how he is.
Until a random day in the middle of June, 2015 when Eddie comes home from teaching guitar at the music center down the road with a pamphlet.
“Steve?” Eddie calls over the sound of the slamming screen door. Steve keeps meaning to replace the spring, so it won’t slam quite so hard every time, but every time he tries, he just gets distracted and forgets altogether.
“In here!” he replies from his place at the kitchen table, surrounded by dozens of middle school history essays.
Eddie comes striding into the kitchen with his guitar case slung over his shoulder and a half-nervous, half-excited grin on his face, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. It’s a habit from youth that he never quite shook, and Steve will never admit this out loud, but he finds it disgustingly adorable.
“Can I help you?” Steve asks with a slight smirk when Eddie just stares at him for a long moment.
Eddie blinks, then suddenly looks a bit sheepish as he takes a breath and pulls a folded-up pamphlet out of his jacket pocket. “So, uh…this might sound weird, but one of my students went to the Pride parade downtown with her girlfriend this weekend, and I told her to bring me a souvenir. And I was joking, obviously! Only…she brought me this random pamphlet she got from some vendor while she was there, also as a joke, and I was reading it because I was bored between lessons - Jeremy canceled because he has strep, or something - and it really wasn’t all that interesting, because, like, been there, done that, right? But-”
“Eddie,” Steve says, smirk dissolving into a fond smile. “You’re rambling, babe.”
“Right, yeah. That I am,” Eddie laughs nervously. He fidgets with the pamphlet, then abruptly holds it out for Steve to take.
Steve only hesitates for a moment before taking it and giving it a brief once-over. “Am I supposed to be-”
“Page five,” Eddie interrupts. His voice is soft, and fond, and a little nervous in a way it rarely is around Steve these days. Nearly thirty years of (unofficial) marriage has left little to be nervous about.
Steve stares at his husband, then flips open the little booklet to a page sporting a black, purple, grey, and white flag, and the word demisexuality. He frowns thoughtfully and pushes his reading glasses further up his nose as he begins to read the rest of the text on the page.
“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Eddie says softly, pulling up a chair so he can sit beside Steve. “But then I remembered that talk we had back when we first started dating…”
His voice trails off, but that’s okay. Steve already knows exactly what conversation Eddie is thinking about, because Steve is recalling it himself.
“There’s a word for it?” Steve’s voice comes out surprisingly fragile. Hopeful.
He can hear the smile in Eddie’s reply. “Yeah, sweetheart. Seems that way.”
“And there are…” Steve swallows down the tidal wave of emotion threatening to crash over him. “There are more people like me? It’s, like…a thing?”
“Sure is, baby,” Eddie says fondly, pressing a lingering kiss to Steve’s temple. “Got your own flag and everything!”
Steve chokes out a laugh just as the first tear falls down his cheek, and fuck, he can’t stop smiling. Because Eddie is right. There’s a word, and a community, and a goddamn flag. And yeah, maybe it’s been years since Steve last worried about the weirdbadwrong feeling he used to get so frequently when he was younger, but something inside of him feels like it’s settled into place. Like the final piece of a puzzle, pulled from beneath the couch years after the rest was completed: dusty and faded, almost forgotten, but a perfect fit nonetheless.
“Demisexual…” he murmurs reverently, tracing over the shape of the flag with his fingers. “I like it.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asks eagerly.
Through happy tears, Steve looks at the man who is his husband in everything but the eyes of the law. Eddie’s eyes are kind and excited - just like they always are - and God, Steve loves him. He’s loved him for decades, and he’s never going to stop.
“Yep,” Steve breathes, wrapping a hand around the back of Eddie’s head to pull him in for a slow kiss. “Love it,” he says. Another kiss. “Love you.”
“Love you too, baby,” Eddie whispers in return.
The next year, Eddie’s students don’t need to bring him souvenirs from Pride, because he and Steve go together. They hold hands as they cheer on the parade, newly-acquired wedding rings (now that it’s been legalized in all fifty states) glinting in the sunlight, and Steve wonders if he’s ever been this happy before. He’s got his husband on one side, Robin and her wife on the other, and a flag of black, purple, grey, and white painted on one cheek.
The feeling is electric.
It’s perfect.
And Steve has never, ever been more certain that there’s nothing icky or wrong about it.
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If you asked most people who know Eddie Munson, they’d tell you that he's a loud, theatrical man. They might tell you that he's always bouncing around, full of chaotic energy and wild ideas, eager to share what's on his mind with anyone who will listen.
And for the most part, they would be right.
But Steve Harrington knows that there's more to it than that.
Steve knows that Eddie is loud, most of the time, except for when he feels most comfortable.
It's a realization that comes to Steve slowly in the weeks following their final battle against Vecna and the Upside Down, during the time they spend sharing a hospital room while they recover from their bat bites.
Steve is there to witness Eddie's cacophonous reunion with the kids - rife with hollering and boisterous laughter and some very stern (if relieved) scolding from Erica Sinclair. But he's also there to see the way Eddie motions Dustin over once everyone settles down and begins to trickle out of the room. Steve watches as Eddie pulls Dustin into his arms and mutters something Steve can't hear into the kid's ear - something that makes Dustin smile with teary eyes.
It's the first time Steve has seen such a soft display of emotion from Eddie Munson, and he finds it strangely fascinating.
Then, it's the same with Wayne a few days later, when he's finally allowed to visit Eddie in the hospital. Steve expects something a bit dramatic from Hawkins' most notorious Dungeon Master, to be honest, but it's not dramatic at all. The reunion between the Munson men is soft and subdued, nothing but quiet sentiments Steve can't quite make out. Eddie is still as full of energy as ever, but with Wayne around, he loses that frantic edge. And so Steve eventually realizes...
The more comfortable Eddie is, the less jagged his edges get. Loud, raucous laughter becomes soft chuckles. Booming declarations give way to quiet promises. Eddie Munson is softer when he feels safest, and Steve quickly decides that while he likes any and all versions of Eddie, he's particularly fond of this one - the one who's shed his emotional armor in favor of comfort, and perhaps a little vulnerability.
He wants to see more of this Eddie - the one who seems closest to Eddie's truest self.
And overtime, Steve gets his wish.
It starts with quiet, late-night conversations filling the space between their beds in the hospital, when they finally begin to dismantle every misguided preconceived notion they've ever had about each other in order to forge a friendship from the ground up.
Once they're released back into the real world, it continues. There are soft, amused comments murmured into Steve's ear during movie nights, and cheeky observations about the kids they practically share custody of on days at the arcade. There are relaxed conversations over a joint passed back and forth on nights when neither of them can sleep at three in the morning.
The closer they get, the softer Eddie becomes, and it only becomes more obvious when they finally stop dancing around each other and start dating.
Eddie's voice is careful and kind when he asks, "Can I kiss you?" for the first time.
He's practically whispering a week later when they both admit to wanting more than just a casual fling with each other.
When Steve makes him come for the first time, Eddie is all soft gasps and quiet whimpers... breathlessly chanting Steve's name like a prayer. And when Eddie returns the favor later that night, it's with the sweetest, filthiest things whispered into Steve's ear, working him into a frenzy until it takes him over the edge.
And four months into their relationship, one of their most important milestones is said so quietly, Steve almost misses it entirely.
They're laying in bed together, chatting away just like they do almost every night. Steve is basking in the feeling of Eddie's arms around him...of Eddie's bare chest against his back as they trade warmth back and forth. He always loves cuddling with Eddie, but he thinks these nights are his favorites. The ones when he gets to be the little spoon, tucked safely into the arms of the boy he thinks of first every morning and last every night.
Eddie tells him about the way Mike wouldn't stop bitching about his sunburn during the D&D campaign Eddie ran with the boys earlier today, and Steve can't help but roll his eyes.
"God, I told him to use sunscreen yesterday!" Steve insists. Behind him, Eddie snorts. "I did! I told all of them to use it, and most of them listened to me, but did Michael Wheeler? Of course not, because that little shit is hellbent on giving me grays before I turn thirty!"
There's another snort from Eddie - this one louder than the first - and Steve playfully smacks his arm where it's wrapped around Steve's abdomen. Eddie just catches his hand and traces circles across the back of it with his thumb.
"This isn't some laughing matter, Munson!" Steve hisses. "We're talking about my hair, here!"
"Oh, woe be upon he who dares threaten the integrity of your glorious mane, my liege," Eddie drawls dramatically. He nuzzles into the aforementioned mane and presses a soft kiss to the spot just behind Steve's ear.
"Exactly, see? You get it," Steve scoffs, choosing to ignore the sarcasm in his boyfriend's voice.
Eddie buries his face in the crook of Steve's neck and makes a vague humming sound.
"Seriously, though, next time, I'm putting sunscreen in a spray bottle and ambushing him with it, or some shit. I’ll be damned if he survived the apocalypse just so his pasty ass could be taken out by the sun," Steve continues to vent.
Eddie just laughs softly. "You're ridiculous, sweetheart," he murmurs. Steve feels him brush his lips against Steve's pulse point and has to suppress a shiver.
"Yes, and?" Steve huffs, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.
"You're ridiculous," Eddie repeats. Then, his voice goes impossibly soft - barely a whisper, and a bit hesitant - but Steve feels the words ghost over the shell of his ear. "And I love you."
Steve's breath hitches just as Eddie seems to realize the gravity of what he's let slip. Eddie's thumb, which has been rubbing gentle circles into the back of Steve's hand ever since he grabbed it a minute, suddenly pauses. For a moment, neither of them move.
It's Steve who unfreezes first, slowly rolling over until he's facing Eddie, still wrapped in his boyfriend's arms. He takes in Eddie's wide eyes and vaguely anxious expression before reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair out of Eddie's face.
Steve's voice is raspy when he finally manages to speak.
"You love me?" he asks hesitantly, hating the half of himself that's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe he misheard. Maybe Eddie said something else. Or worse, maybe Eddie changed his mind immediately after saying it and is now regretting saying it in the first place. It wouldn't be the first time someone changed their mind about loving Steve, after all.
Eddie doesn't correct him, though, or take it back. Instead, he nods hesitantly, as though he's afraid Steve will hate him for it, and bites his lip.
"I- yeah," he says, still whispering. He looks terrified, and it makes Steve's heart ache. "Is that...okay?"
Steve wants to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Mostly, he wants to tell Eddie that it's more than okay - that he loves him, too, and has for a while now.
"Say it again," Steve begs, instead.
Eddie blinks, his gaze transforming into something so devastatingly tender that Steve doubts he'll ever recover.
"Stevie..." Eddie murmurs, bringing their foreheads to rest against each other. His lips curl into a smile. Steve smiles back. "I love you."
Steve is only slightly embarrassed by the way his heart is rabbiting against his ribs, surely loud enough for his boyfriend to hear.. "Really?"
Eddie smiles and lets their noses brush. "Yeah, baby. I really do."
"Oh," Steve breathes. His disbelief finally gives way to wonder as he allows his hand to move on its own accord - fingertips brushing against the soft skin of Eddie's cheek. Reverently, he traces the shape of Eddie's nose, of his eyebrows, of the little scar on Eddie's temple that's only just begun to fade.
Eddie presses a barely-there kiss to the pads of Steve's fingers when they finally drag across his lips. The action leaves Steve feeling so fond it aches.
"I love you, too," Steve whispers, because it's the truth. He's not sure exactly when he started to fall in love with Eddie Munson, but he does know that he's never stopped. He thinks he'll probably keep falling in love with Eddie until the day he dies.
It's a disgustingly sweet sentiment, and Steve can't bring himself to care.
"Fuck, Eddie," he laughs, breathless. Eddie's eyes are shining with joy. With love. Steve moves closer, until their lips brush against each other when he murmurs, "Love you so much."
Steve's heart has never felt as full as it does right now - as it continues to feel when they collide in a flurry of heated skin, soft lips, and quiet words of adoration. It's not the first time they've had sex, but it's the first time it's felt like this - like being wholly and completely cared for, for the first time in his life. Steve has tears in his eyes by the time they collapse against each other, sated and utterly in love, and Eddie devotedly kisses the tears away when they begin to fall.
In the aftermath, once they've both been cleaned up and caught their breath, Eddie pulls Steve into his arms so Steve's head can rest on his scarred chest. The soft thump of Eddie's heartbeat beneath his ear - proof that they survived everything they've been through, and that their reward is this beautiful, brilliant love - brings a smile to Steve's face.
He turns his head and presses his lips to Eddie's chest, just above Eddie's heart. Eddie's arms tighten around him.
"Love you, Eds," Steve murmurs, settling in and closing his eyes as sleep begins to beckon.
Eddie just holds him and runs nimble fingers through Steve's hair, bending to press a kiss to Steve's temple.
"Love you too, Stevie," Eddie whispers in his ear, voice perfectly, beautifully soft.
Written for the prompt "things you whispered in my ear" from this prompt request list I posted a couple of months ago! If you want to request another one of the prompts on the list, drop me an ask and I'll write it as soon as I can!
Little late posting this, but written for the @wolfstarmicrofic prompt for February 4th: Dream. Sort of failed miserably at the "micro"fic part, but here you go! 3.3k of Wolfstar! (CW for mention of The Prank, but the story takes place months after it actually happens. Happy/hopeful ending guaranteed!)
Now posted to AO3!
The Gryffindor Common Room is uncannily quiet late at night, long after its many residents have retreated to the safety of their beds. What is ordinarily a bustling, cacophonous space becomes one of stillness… of silence.
But Remus has never minded the quiet.
On the contrary, he quite likes it – the way he can hear the crackling of the hearth as it radiates warmth into the large, empty space. Sometimes, on nights when sleep is even more elusive than usual, he finds himself sitting on the plush couch nearest the fire, keeping the tower’s resident fire-dwelling salamanders company.
Tonight is one of those nights, and he’s only just turned to the next chapter in his novel when he hears the soft padding of footsteps coming down the stairwell from the boys’ dormitories.
He’s not terribly surprised to see that the boy who emerges from the shadows is one he knows quite well. Achingly well, if he’s honest.
Sirius looks exhausted and skittish when he steps into the firelight, and he jumps, slightly, when he lays eyes on Remus, who stares silently up at him from where he’s lounging on the couch. A year ago, one of them would have made a quip about not being able to sleep as they settled in comfortably beside each other, words long having ceased to be necessary.
But this isn’t a year ago. This is now, and even though Remus forgave Sirius for his ill-conceived “prank” on Severus Snape some time ago, things are still different. They’ve been different ever since that night, even after their reconciliation following James’s frantic Floo call to Remus’s cottage on the night Sirius ran away from home.
They’ve only been back at Hogwarts for a few weeks, and though Remus is loath to admit it, the two of them still seem to be finding their footing with each other.
This isn’t a year ago, and Remus knows that’s why Sirius stops short when he first enters the room.
“Remus,” Sirius says softly. His voice is hoarse from sleep, tainted with an edge of guilt Remus desperately wishes weren’t there.
“Hi,” Remus breathes. He closes his book – offers Sirius a small smile. “You’re up awfully late.”
Sirius smiles hesitantly, his eyes darting around the room like he’s waiting for something awful to come leaping out of the shadows. He’s like this often, now – ever since he ran away – and even after weeks of seeing him like this, it doesn’t break Remus’s heart any less. “I’m sorry,” Sirius mutters. “I didn’t know you’d be down here. I can go, if you-”
“No, don’t,” Remus interjects quickly, because even after everything, Remus craves Sirius’s presence like a sprout craves sunlight. Sirius still looks hesitant, so Remus pats the cushion beside him. “Really, Sirius, it’s okay.”
We’re okay, Remus wants to say, only he doesn’t, for fear of being proven wrong.
Still, Sirius flounders for a bit, and Remus wonders if the other boy is really going to flee back up the stairs, after all. But eventually, Sirius sighs and makes his way over, sitting a foot or so away on the other side of the couch.
It’s yet another thing that’s changed, in the last few months. A year ago, Sirius would’ve sat so close they’d be touching from ankle to shoulder – practically on Remus’s lap. Remus quickly pushes the thought away, because if he thinks about it for too long, he may do something terribly embarrassing like cry. Instead, he focuses on the much more important problem at hand, which is the fact that Sirius is still plenty close enough for Remus to notice the trembling in his hands.
Remus swallows and stares at his friend’s shaking fingers, feeling rather wrong-footed. He hates this – God, he fucking hates this. He hates that Sirius is hurting. He hates that things are so strange between them, nowadays. He hates that the strangeness does nothing but make Remus feel like he’s missing a limb – trying to walk without a leg – and that it makes him feel unable to comfort someone who means more to him than anyone could possibly imagine. More than Remus has even admitted to himself.
“Sirius,” Remus says, setting the book on the table beside the couch. “Are you alright?”
The question makes Sirius curl in on himself, and Remus waits patiently for a response, if he’s going to get one at all.
“I-” Sirius starts, then cuts himself off with a sigh. “Yeah, I… it’s fine, Rem. Just a bad dream. You know how it goes.”
Remus does know how it goes, is the thing. He knows better than anyone, because he and Sirius have been sharing the darkest hours of the nights for years after bad dreams – after visions of glowing yellow eyes and sharp teeth have Remus waking in a cold sweat, and memories of shouted curses do the same to Sirius. They’ve talked each other through the aftermath. Held each other at the worst of times, occasionally waking up the next morning so tangled together that Remus couldn’t tell where he ended and Sirius began.
But they don’t do that anymore. Not since…
Remus doesn’t want to think about that, right now.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”
There’s a long pause before Sirius speaks again.
“You know…” Sirius says tiredly. “I’m not sure I can remember the last time I had a good dream.”
The statement takes Remus by surprise, not because he’s surprised to hear that Sirius feels this way, but because he’s surprise to hear Sirius say it. It feels dangerously close to opening up, and that’s something the two of them haven’t done with each other in a long, long time.
“There are nights where I don’t really dream, or at least, not that I remember, you know?” Sirius continues. “But I can’t remember the last time I dreamt about something that was good. Something that made me happy.”
Remus’s heart beats unsteadily in his chest, because this, strangely enough, is not something he can relate to. Remus does have good dreams, on occasion, and a great many of them feature the boy with whom he is currently sharing a couch. He’s done his best to shove them to the back of his mind, whenever he wakes up from them. He relegates them to that ever-expanding box of Sirius-related memories that would be better off forgotten and moves on, only now… Sirius is right beside him, prodding at the box with long, aristocratic fingers, and Remus can feel the lid beginning to slip.
But he’s been silent for too long, and he should know better, because Sirius Black has never been able to resist filling a silence. “Do you have good dreams, Moony?” he asks softly.
Remus won’t lie, but that doesn’t mean he has to tell the whole truth. “Sometimes,” he says noncommittally, praying that will be enough of an answer for Sirius.
It’s not. Of course, it’s not.
“Yeah?” Sirius asks, turning sideways to face him – one elbow propped up on the back of the couch and a knee resting on the cushions between them. “What about?”
“Mundane things, really,” Remus answer diplomatically. “Everything’s so awful, out there in the real world, for people like me. Sometimes I dream that I just… disappear. Get a little cottage somewhere off the beaten path, with a garden, and a crup or a kneazle, and I can just sort of… exist, you know?”
It’s all true, even if he’s leaving out the most important parts. The part about Sirius being there with him, cooking dinner together in a tiny kitchen. The part about the bed he shares with a boy with long, wavy black hair and shining grey eyes, that leave him waking up hard and aching with want.
He swallows, and Sirius studies him for what feels like an eternity. Remus is certain that his face must be giving something away. He’s never been particularly good at poker.
“Sounds lonely,” Sirius murmurs, and it cuts through Remus like a knife.
It is, he wants to say. It is, because at least before, I could trick myself into thinking that maybe I wasn’t so crazy. That maybe you could be there, after all.
Instead, he says, “It’s not. Not always, at least. Sometimes I’m not alone.”
There’s a flicker of something sad and haunted in Sirius’s eyes. “Good,” he whispers. “I don’t want you to be alone, Moony. You don’t deserve that.”
Remus blinks at him – barely even thinks before uttering, “Neither do you.”
He nearly chokes on all of the words left unsaid in the silence that follows. There’s a palpable tension in the air, and Remus wonders if perhaps it’s all in his head or if Sirius can feel it too – if Sirius can feel the crushing, all-consuming weight of Remus’s love for him, attempting to bully its way out of Remus’s throat and into the open, like water testing the integrity of an overburdened dam.
Sirius’s gaze is a weighty thing, when it finally settles on Remus again. “Your dream sounds nice,” Sirius says. Remus feels his eyes begin to sting. “Practical, but sort of cozy. Like you.” His ears turn crimson when he says the last, and Remus has to wonder whether he meant to say it at all.
“You could do it too, you know,” Remus says tightly. “There’s nothing stopping you.”
There’s another pause – a long one.
“We could do it together,” Sirius says.
He’s poking that box of memories, again, and this time, the lid goes tumbling off.
Remus laughs wetly and quickly brushes away a tear he never granted permission to fall. “Sometimes we do,” he confesses. “When I dream about it.”
He glances at Sirius, who’s looking at him with wide, teary eyes, and finds that he can’t stop now that the lid is off the box, now that the dam has begun to crack under the pressure.
“Sometimes you come with me,” he says, voice shaking. “And you laugh at me when I fuss over the garden. You bring that muggle record player you have and never turn it off. And sometimes we quarrel about dinner, or whose turn it is to feed the crup, but we’re-” Remus’s voice breaks, and he sniffles. “We’re happy.”
He feels a bit like he’s losing his mind when he finishes, and he can’t bring himself to look at Sirius. It’s as close to a full confession as Remus will ever get, and Sirius is an idiot, sometimes, but he’s not stupid. He’ll be able to put two and two together, and then Remus’s secret – the only one he’s kept closer to his chest than his lycanthropy – will be out. Exposed like a wound that will never fully heal.
Sirius’s voice is strained and soft, when he speaks again. “Remus,” he croaks. “Remus, I…”
He never finishes the thought, and Remus’s blood begins to burn with shame.
But then… Sirius murmurs something else. “Remus, I want that.”
They’re the words Remus has been longing to hear for years, but dismissing them is astonishingly easy.
“You don’t mean that,” Remus says flatly.
“I do, though.”
“No, Sirius, you don’t,” Remus snaps, rising to his feet. “You don’t know what you’re saying – what I’m saying. You don’t know what you’re agreeing to, it’s-”
“No, Remus, listen to me,” Sirius pleads. He reaches out, nimble fingers encircling Remus’s wrist, and Remus freezes. It’s the first time they’ve touched each other beyond an accidental bump in the halls since the night of the prank, and his skin suddenly feels too tight for his body. He’s so shocked, he can’t even bring himself to resist when Sirius pulls him back down to sit on the couch again, much closer this time. Their knees brush against each other, and the contact burns hot like a brand.
Remus looks at Sirius – meets his gaze properly – and is stunned to find that his grey eyes are filled with tears.
“I know what you mean,” Sirius insists. “And I mean what I’m saying, Remus, surely you know that.”
“Sirius, it’s just a dream,” Remus counters tearfully. His heart is dangerously close to cracking open right there inside his chest, and he’s not ready. God, he’s not ready to have his heart broken by the conversation he knows is coming. “And you’re not… you don’t feel that way about me. Not like I do for you.”
“Remus,” Sirius whispers, soft and urgent, like Remus is the one breaking his heart, and not the other way around. “Everyone knows. Everyone knows that I- that I-” He can’t seem to get the words out, but Remus knows what his imagination wants to fill in at the end of the sentence. Two words that simply cannot be true.
Until Sirius Black, unpredictable as ever, does what Remus has never, in four impossibly long years, been able to do.
“Everyone knows that I love you, Remus,” Sirius says, tears streaking down his alabaster cheeks. “Everyone except you.”
Remus forgets how to breathe. “What?”
Sirius sniffles and releases his grip on Remus’s wrist in favor of tangling their fingers together. “I have no right to say that, Moony, I know that. I do. Especially not after… what I did last year. But Gods, I- I can’t do this any longer. I’ve been disowned by my family, Remus, I haven’t talked to Reggie in months, and I’ve still never missed anyone as much as I’ve missed you.”
Remus shakes his head, unable to believe what he’s hearing with his own ears. “Sirius, we talk to each other every day-”
“But we don’t, do we?” Sirius argues, desperate. “Not like we used to. Not like I wish we did. It’s different, now.”
“Of course it’s different!” Remus hisses, his fingers tightening around Sirius’s, even as his own heart tries to pull away. “It’s- I can’t… I’m not…” He huffs in frustration and fails miserably at blinking back the tears that won’t stop coming. Sirius looks utterly devastated when Remus glances at him.
“I know,” Sirius mutters brokenly. “I know, Remus. You can say it.”
Remus takes a shaky breath, and he thinks of all the things he’s wanted to say to Sirius for the last few months – all the questions he’s never asked – but they’re questions he knows Sirius won’t have answers for. Sirius will never be able to tell him why he sold Remus out to Snape, that night, because Sirius doesn’t know why. That much has been clear from the moment it happened.
So Remus doesn’t ask. What he says, instead, is this:
“I don’t understand why it had to be you,” Remus whispers, and he can’t look at Sirius’s face, right now, so instead he looks at their joined hands. “That’s the most fucked up part of this whole mess, Sirius. When I think about it…” He pauses. “When I think about things that I wish were different, my first thought is never that I wish the whole prank never happened – it’s that I wish it had been someone, anyone, other than you who did it.”
Sirius is silent – head bowed and hand shaking in Remus’s grasp, despite how tightly they’re clinging to each other.
“I know it sounds mad, but it’s true,” Remus continues. “Because I love James, and Peter, and Lily – you know I do – but not…” He takes a deep breath and raises his eyes to meet Sirius’s. God, what a messy, tragic pair they make.
He squeezes Sirius’s hand.
“Not like I love you.”
Sirius’s breath hitches softly, his red-rimmed grey eyes flitting back and forth across Remus’s face while the words hang in the air between them. The silence is deafening, ringing with the truths that have finally been voiced after years of silence – that Remus and Sirius’s relationship has never been quite like the others. That it’s always been a different sort of love.
Of course, it’s Sirius who ultimately shatters the silence, and Remus hardly has time to register what’s happening before Sirius chokes out a sob and launches himself into Remus’s arms, clambering into Remus’s lap and wrapping around him like a koala. The broken apologies that emerge between sobs are the final blow to Remus’s fractured heart, and he feels the moment it cracks open, bleeding desperation into every cell in his body. He winds his arms around Sirius’s body and holds him close – just like he used to after their worst nightmares – and stops trying to fight the tears.
“I’m sorry, Remus, I’m so sorry,” Sirius pleads, breaths ghosting over the exposed skin of Remus’s neck. “Please, Remus, you have to believe me. I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Please.” I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Remus knows – he’s always known – and he forgave Sirius a long time ago, only because he knew Sirius would never forgive himself.
“I know,” Remus murmurs, holding Sirius so tightly he’s nearly surprised Sirius has any air left to speak. “And I do. It’s okay. We’re…” He pauses, because, he wants to tell Sirius that they’re okay, but they’re not. Not really. Not yet. “We’ll be okay, Sirius. We will. I swear it.”
He hears Sirius let out a shuddering breath, but he feels, more than hears, Sirius murmur into the skin of his neck, “I love you.”
“I know,” Remus says again, burying his face in the crook of Sirius’s neck, where the soft wool of his sweater gives way to smooth skin. Sirius’s arms tighten around his middle. “I love you, too.”
“I want-” Sirius starts, interrupted by a soft hiccup. “I want to have good dreams again, Moony.” His voice sounds so small – like that of a child – and it makes Remus ache.
Slowly, gently, Remus extricates himself from Sirius’s grasp so he can look Sirius in the eye. His hand hardly feels like his own when he lets it rest against Sirius’s flush cheek, brushing away the still-falling tears with a careful swipe of his thumb.
They’ve shared a bed dozens of times, before. Spent entire evenings on this very couch with Remus’s head in Sirius’s lap while they laughed with their friends. Sirius is straddling him right now, in this very moment, but this – Remus cradling Sirius’s face in his hand, stubbornly thumbing away tears while they stare at each other, gazes open and honest in a way they’ve never been, even before the prank – is undeniably the most intimate thing they’ve ever done.
And Remus knows, now, what he’s denied for so long – that there will always, always be a part of him that loves Sirius Black, and miraculously, he thinks Sirius may always love him, in return. It may not be tonight, but one day, Sirius will gather the shards of Remus’s heart and put it back together. Breathe love into it like oxygen. And Remus will do the same for him.
Maybe they can start right now.
“You will,” Remus says softly, a wobbly smile on his lips. “But for now, you can borrow mine, if you’d like.”
Sirius’s eyes widen with wonder, and God, Remus loves him. He loves him so much it hurts.
Remus doesn’t know this, yet, but in two years, the two of them will lay together in their bed and bicker teasingly about who kissed who first. Remus will claim that it was Sirius who first leaned in, and Sirius, ever the contrarian, will say the opposite. But they’ll smile through the playful disagreement, and sooner or later, the argument will end with one of them cheekily fitting their lips together in a successful attempt at distraction.
But this isn’t two years from now. Not yet. So for now, Remus doesn’t particularly care whether it’s him or Sirius who initiated it. His only cares in the world are that Sirius tastes like mint toothpaste, and his lips are soft and pliant against Remus’s own, and that their first kiss is a little wet with tears and a little devastating, but still perfect.
It’s perfect because it’s them – RemusandSirius – and for now, that’s enough.
For now, Remus Lupin kisses Sirius Black and smiles, because for the first time in a long time, he knows that his favorite dreams are finally, finally within reach.
Hello! I finally made a masterlist! This includes the stories I've written both here on Tumblr and on AO3 to make things easier to find. You'll find all of my Steddie and Wolfstar fics listed below, and I will be updating this list as I continue to post more.
Author's favorites are noted with a little 🌟 emoji!
All of the writing I post on here will also be tagged with "#mcdynamite writes" if you want to search for it that way.
(Note: Since I am not currently planning on continuing to write Drarry, my fics for that ship are not on this list, but they are still up on my AO3 account! You can find them here.)
Stranger Things
Steddie
AO3 Fics:
🌟 Made It This Far (T) - 13k
It’s not ideal, keeping these recurrent headaches a secret from all of his friends, and sure, Steve's had his fair share of days where he’s been forced to just work through the pain, but he’s making it work. He’s managing.
He’s fine.
In which Steve Harrington is determined to suffer his migraines in silence, alone, and Eddie Munson is determined not to let him.
Major tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sickfic (sort of), Steve Harrington Gets Migraines
Warning(s): past head trauma, Steve's shitty parents
Tumblr Blurbs:
Physically affectionate Eddie (tags: getting together, cuddles, first kiss)
Nancy gives Steve a lil nudge (tags: platonic Stancy, pining Steve, getting together, side Ronance)
🌟 Hawkins assistant basketball coach Steve (tags: pining Eddie, Steve being a hot jock, Eddie being horny for jock-mode Steve, getting together)
First "I love you" (tags: established relationship, soft Steddie, cuddles)
🌟 Demisexual Steve (tags: demisexuality, supportive Eddie, soft Steddie; CWs for discussions of sexuality and references to Steve's past sexual relationships)
Sleepy Steve x Bartender Eddie (tags: established relationship, extremely soft, Eddie being a sweetheart, Steve being a needy dork)
Harry Potter
Wolfstar
AO3 Fics:
The Scientific Method (E) - 62k
Remus Lupin has been in love with Sirius Black for ages, so when an unexpected opportunity arises for him to have everything he's been dreaming of, he can't possibly say no (even if it's only for one night). After all, it's just an experiment. Nothing really needs to change.
Right?
In which Remus and Sirius are tragically terrible communicators, Peter just wants to help, and James is forced to reconcile with the fact that his friends may truly be idiots.
Major tags: Hogwarts Seventh Year, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Sexual Content
Warning(s): Sirius's shitty parents, canon-typical werewolf injuries
Until We're Grey and Old (M) - 4.7k
“What on earth are you doing?” Remus asked, a fond, confused smile on his lips.
“We’re going outside,” Sirius replied simply, grinning and tugging on Remus’s hand.
Remus just laughed, but allowed Sirius to pull him outside and into the rain anyway. “But it’s the middle of the night! And it’s pouring!” he protested with a grin, looking up to the sky as both of them began to feel cool droplets of rain against their skin. It was already soaking through the fabric of Remus’s t-shirt.
“I know!”
OR
Remus has a bad night, and Sirius is determined to turn it around by showing him exactly how loved he is.
Major tags: Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Fluff
Warning(s): N/A
🌟 As the Moon Knows the Stars (T) - 48k
On the day Sirius Black turned seventeen, he had his soulmark removed in order to protect the soulmate he'd never met from the wrath of his own family. In the eight years since, he's managed to make his peace with living the rest of his life without falling in love. Though he mourns his lost soulmate every day, he's confident he made the right choice to protect them, and no one has ever made him question that.
Until, of course, Lily Evans brings her childhood friend along for a pub night, and Sirius finds himself utterly enamored with the kind, mysterious stranger. But Remus Lupin surely has a soulmate of his own waiting out there somewhere, and Sirius won't let himself get in the way of that.
He just wishes Remus weren't so damn easy to love.
Major tags: Soulmates AU, Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, Slow Burn, Remus Never Went to Hogwarts, Neurodivergent Sirius
Warning(s): implied/referenced abuse and homophobia (all takes place in the past and is limited to Sirius's shitty parents)
🌟 Hold Back the River (T) - 3.3k
“There are nights where I don’t really dream, or at least, not that I remember, you know?” Sirius continues. “But I can’t remember the last time I dreamt about something that was good. Something that made me happy.”
Remus’s heart beats unsteadily in his chest, because this, strangely enough, is not something he can relate to. Remus does have good dreams, on occasion, and a great many of them feature the boy with whom he is currently sharing a couch. He’s done his best to shove them to the back of his mind, whenever he wakes up from them. He relegates them to that ever-expanding box of Sirius-related memories that would be better off forgotten and moves on, only now… Sirius is right beside him, prodding at the box with long, aristocratic fingers, and Remus can feel the lid beginning to slip.
Major tags: Post Prank, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Forgiveness, First Kiss
Warning(s): dealing with the aftermath of The Prank, mentions of Sirius's shitty parents
(everybody here was) someone else before (M) - 13k
“No?” the man said. “And where might this dashing fellow countryman of mine be?”
“Right here, actually,” Remus said with a lopsided grin, finally turning to face the newcomer. “I’m Re-”
He stopped halfway through his introduction to gape at the man in front of him. His pale skin was littered with tattoos – most of them black as his hair, which fell in waves that just barely touched his slim shoulders – and the grey v-neck tee he wore left little of his toned figure to the imagination. But none of these things were the primary focus of Remus’s attention. That honour would go to the man’s eyes – grey and sparkling with the vivacity of a summer storm, flecked with golds and blues if one only looked closely enough. They were eyes Remus would recognize anywhere.
Because Remus had seen them before.
OR
A chance meeting in Remus's least favorite city on Earth forces him to reckon with the fact that he may never have fallen out of love with an old friend.
Major tags: Muggle AU, Childhood Friends Reconnecting, Sexual Tension/Content, Idiots in Love
Warning(s): Sirius's shitty parents, mentioned Jegulus
