#steddie notes

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Eddie wakes up to an empty bed. He’s a little surprised, honestly, since he had his heart set on first anniversary morning sex. Though, based on the smells wafting through their apartment, Steve’s making breakfast, which is an acceptable alternative (plus, if he has it his way, they aren’t leaving the bed again today).

The digital alarm clock on his bedside table is obscured by a Composition Book he doesn’t remember bringing to bed. He reaches for it before his brain registers the red ink dragon sketched on the cover. His hands tremble as he flips it open, but the first few pages are written in his own scrawl. Steve’s handwriting doesn’t appear until 10 pages in and Eddie’s heart stutters at the sight.

March 28, 1986

God, Eddie, I’m so sorry. So, so fucking sorry. I can’t— I’m sorry. I should have been there, I should’ve protected you, I should’ve kept you safe. 

You wouldn’t be part of this if it weren’t for me. Robin and Dustin keep telling me that's not true, that Chrissy was already cursed but. Robin is here because of me. Erica-fucking Sinclair is here because of me. And now you. And you’re dying. And it’s my fault. 

I don’t even know what I’m doing right now, but I can’t just sit and wait, I’d lose my mind. Anyway. You left this notebook in my trunk, and I hope you don’t mind that I’m using it. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been this terrified in my life, Eds.

Please don’t die on me. I can’t live in this world without you. 

March 29, 1986

Hey Eds

You made it through the night. I can’t fucking believe it. I ripped Robin’s shirt when the doctor came in to tell us that you were out of surgery and stable, and then he dropped the bomb that your chance of surviving the night was 40%. Forty-fucking-percent. I guess you beat the odds, babylove.

I’m with Uncle Wayne at your bedside. He threw a fit to make sure I could be here whenever I wanted, and that everyone could visit.

You’ve missed some wild shit, Munson, you’re going to be so mad when you wake up. 

Come back to me, sweet boy. I can’t take this.

March 30, 1986

Made it through a second night, babe. 

I hope you wake up soon. 

Miss you like crazy. 

I keep looking at you in this hospital bed, and you look so fucking small. I hate it. You’re the loudest voice in the room. You don’t just take up space, you demand it. It’s killing me that I haven’t heard your voice in days. And my brain, it keeps filling in things you would say, and I wait for you to speak up, but of course you don’t. It’s a kick to the balls every single time. 

The thing is. 

The thing is that I need you to wake up, Eddie. You can’t leave me. I made up my mind a long time ago, we’re spending our lives together. And it can’t fucking end now. It can’t end because of this. 

And I need you to open your goddamn beautiful eyes so I can tell you how much I love you. You don’t get to go before you hear me say it, do you understand?

I love you. You’re it for me. I’ve never wanted a forever as much as I want one with you. So, you have to wake up, yeah? You have to wake up so we can grow up, have a family, have a life together. 

Promise you won’t leave me, Eds.

March 31, 1986

You woke up, you motherfucker. The doctors kicked me out to look you over and I cried so hard in the bathroom that Robin made El break down the door with her powers. 

Thank you for coming back. I won’t ever let you go again.

April 7, 1987

I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m giving this to you, babylove. It’s been a year. Look how far we’ve come. 

✏️✏️✏️✏️

September 18, 2015

It’s way too fucking early for Eddie to even be awake and he has the day off. Steve asked him to take vacation months ago, didn’t say why, and now that fucker has the audacity to not even be in the house. And like, sure, they’ve been together for close to thirty years, and Eddie knows that Steve goes for a run at the ass crack of dawn.

Still pisses him off, though. 

Eddie huffs down to the kitchen to get coffee started, doing a double take when he sees a familiar black Composition Book with red dragon on the cover. 

He walks towards it slowly because this has been framed on the wall since their first anniversary, way back in ’87, and Steve isn’t home.

Eddie opens it, re-reads the panicked, lovesick notes Steve wrote in the hospital, doesn't bother to fight back the tears. He gets to the last letter and the paper is stiff and wrinkled, like it took water damage. Eddie flips the page, grief already pumping through his veins.

What he sees instead is college-ruled notebook paper, glued in place. It reads:

“I fucking hate this class.”

“Tell me about it.”

“trig. You?”

“Algebra 2 :(” 

A sound escapes his mouth, something between a laugh and a sob.

“Hey man, I'm pretty sure I fucked things up with us, and I owe you an apology. I've always known who you were, but you had no idea I was me...”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of beautiful, Munson?”

“Watch. The. Movie. This is the last time we get high first if this is how you behave.”

 “What are you gonna win me at the fair, Harrington?” 

 “If you’re nice to me, probably something cute.” 

“Eddie…I think I really like you

You’re my favorite person in the entire world

Some days you’re the only thing I can think about

I want to wake up in bed with you everyday

I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you

Do you like me? Yes or No”

“What are you doing about Hellfire?”

“Huh?”

“If the game is Friday. Lucas can’t do both.”

“He made his choice.”

“You ever been in love?”

No, but I think I’m falling”

“I love you, Eddie”

All the sketches of the sailor boy and the rockstar are there, even the one Eddie stuck to the poster in his room, though how Steve managed to get that is anyone’s guess.

There are pictures too, Eddie and Max still recuperating in the hospital; Corroded Coffin performing at the Hideout; them holding the keys to the bar, Steve shirtless and hammering something while Eddie looks on, with the increasingly popular bands Eddie booked to play their must-see Friday night slots; Steve on his first day of college and one of him jumping into Eddie’s arms in his graduation gown, mortar board slipping off his head; In the hospital cradling their twin girls with Max giving a weary thumbs-up between them. Shot after shot of their family, their life, their dreams coming true. A scrapbook of their lives together, big moments and small; good and bad. 

Eddie’s crying freely as he flips through the rest of the book, still fucking astounded that Steve is the love of his life, that they’re making a forever together.

Eddie flips to the last page. Stops dead. 

In Steve’s looped handwriting, unchanged since high school, it says:

“Eddie, 

         Will you marry me?”

“What the fuck?” He yelps, standing up fast enough that his chair crashes to the floor. 

He turns and Steve— his reason for being, the man that brought him back from the dead—Steve Harrington, is down on one knee, something silver glinting in his outstretched hand.

“Eddie,” he says, his voice a wreck. “Marry me?” 

Eddie crashes to his knees, shoving at Steve’s shoulder. “You’re such an idiot.”

Steve laughs. “Is that a yes?”

Eddie laughs too, but it quickly morphs into a sob, “Of course it’s a yes, Steve. Of course.”

Hands trembling, Steve slips the ring onto Eddie’s hand. It’s a thin silver band with skeletal hands contorted into an infinity symbol. 

They fall into a kiss that rips the breath from Eddie’s lungs, but then that’s nothing new. When they finally pull apart Eddie asks, “why today?”

Steve blushes and grabs at the back of his neck. “Thirty-one years ago, I walked into Mundy’s class and found a note on the window ledge.” 

“What the fuck.” Eddie’s mouth drops, his heart stuttering. This man.

“Once I figured out you leaving that note was going to be one of the most important moments of my life? I made sure to never forget.”

“Baby.” Eddie pulls Steve in for another kiss. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Steve tugs at Eddie’s hand. “C’mon.”

“Where we going?” 

“The girls will be here in a couple hours, and I have some things I want to do to you before they’re home.”

“The GIRLS?” Eddie shrieks. “How the hell long have you been planning this? Did they KNOW?”

“Since the end of June,” Steve answers without missing a beat. “And of course they know. Everyone knows. I asked Wayne for his blessing.” 

Eddie can’t speak, his heart crashing in his chest as he, once again, thanks whatever entity made it possible for him to have this.

“I’ve been in love with you for over half my life, Eds. I wanted to do this right. You deserve it. We deserve it.” 

He pulls Steve into his arms, kissing him hard enough that their teeth clack, but neither of them care.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

When they come home from dinner, as Steve reaches in his pocket for his keys to let the entire family in the house to celebrate their engagement, he finds a gum wrapper tucked in with the metal. He unfolds it, the words within unfurling in his heart, his soul.

"Thank you for giving me forever, sweetheart."

Edited: check out the full version on ao3!

This is officially the end! I hope you enjoyed this little (long) bonus part. Thanks for reading! 💜💜💜

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(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

They’re stuck in the Upside Down. 

Nancy. Robin. Eddie. And Steve’s so fucked up from the bats, every breath, ever movement, has him in agony, and he just keeps seeing Eddie here, and it makes it all so much worse. This was never supposed to happen. And how was Steve supposed to keep him safe, keep them all safe, when he could barely stand upright from the pain?

Eddie walks a little way ahead with Nancy, fled after saying, “for your modesty, dude,” and throwing his battle vest at Steve’s face. It leaves Steve with Robin as they navigate the vines and random earthquakes to get to the Wheeler’s house. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Robin asks. 

Steve narrows his eyes. “You mean other than being dragged across a dry lakebed and eaten by fucked up bats?” 

“Is it. Eddie?” 

He bites his lips between his teeth. Of course Robin knows. She always does. “I hate that he’s part of this, Robs. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“You think it’s your fault.” It’s not a question.

“How can I not.” His voice catches and he has to clear his throat before he can continue. “You got dragged into this just by being friends with me. And now Eddie? If he wasn’t our friend—if he wasn’t my—he would be safe.”

“Steve. You know that’s not true. Chrissy was cursed already. She would have always died that night. Eddie was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s not your fault.”

He nods, tears pooling along his lash lines. “We kissed,” he croaks out.

“What?” Robin shrieks loud enough to echo across the desolate, cursed landscape. 

Eddie and Nancy glance back in time to see Steve knock his shoulder against her arm. “Quiet,” he hisses. 

“Sorry,” she frowns. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner! When? How? Are you together now?”

His mouth twists. “No. I think I fucked it up? It was—fuck—when he came over after Chrissy. He was so upset, and I was comforting him, and it just happened. I feel like I took advantage of him.”

“So, you haven’t talked about it?”

He gives her a look again. “When would we have had the time?” 

“Okay, okay. But he doesn’t seem mad. I mean, he still gazes at you all lovestruck and ridiculous.”

Heat bursts under the skin of Steve’s cheeks. “He does not,” he mumbles. 

“But you do need to talk about it. Obviously. You two have been pinning for years.” 

“It’s a year and a half. At most. Not even.”

“Feels like years to me.” 

Steve scoffs, falls silent. “I’m scared, Robs. What if he doesn’t like me back? He was too upset when I kissed him, and—I pushed it too far.”

“You did pick a truly terrible time to kiss him, and you two should probably talk about that, but Eddie isn’t going to be upset that you have feelings for him.”

“How do you know? There’s no way you can be sure. I don’t want to risk everything.” “Steve, I—” Robin’s mouth contorts into a complicated series of o’s as she fishes for words. “We’re already risking everything,” she says. “With the Upside Down. With Vecna. When we’re back topside, you should take the time you need to talk to him, okay? I promise that, even if he doesn’t like you like that, he’ll still love you as his closest friend.”

He can’t think of the words to argue with, so he nods, stuffs his hands into the pockets of Eddie’s battle vest. His finger catches on something deep in the right pocket, accompanied by a telltale burst of pain. Steve hisses, retracting his hand, a drop of scarlet beads from a small slash at the tip of his index finger. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. He wipes the blood on the vest—it’s already soaked with it, anyway. 

“You okay?” Robin asks, her blue eyes sharp at Steve losing more blood.

“Yeah. Munson’s keeping sharp shit in his pockets again, is all.”

He reaches back into the pocket to find the offending weapon and finds a crumpled sheet of paper. An amused breath bursts out of him as he realizes what it must be, and he fishes it out with hesitation. 

It’s crinkled and grimy with age, but Steve unfurls it anyway. It’s his own handwriting at the top: “You ever been in love?” 

He doesn’t remember writing it, not clearly. There’s a vague recollection of wobbling around, crossfaded in his bedroom, scrawling words on the first acceptable surface he finds. Doesn’t remember giving it to Eddie, but he’s responded; it’s scrawled right there beneath Steve’s question: “No, but I think I’m falling.” 

Steve stops in his tracks, staring at the note, eyes darting from the paper to Eddie. A bright pulse of hope sticks in his throat. They’re going to get out of the Upside Down, and when they do, Steve is telling Eddie everything.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

He doesn’t. 

Nancy is taken by Vecna and then they fall into planning mode, apparently RV theft mode too (“don’t cha, big boy” is never going to leave his head), and in the panic and fear, there isn’t time. 

There’s a little part of him, too, that doesn’t want to say, “I love you,” like it’s a good-bye. He meant it when he told Robin he still has hope, he does, refuses to accept any outcome that isn’t success, that leaves one of their rank dead. 

So, he doesn’t talk to Eddie, and they’re in the Upside Down for their last stand and all the words and emotions pile up on his tongue but can’t find flight. 

He, Robin, and Nancy turn to go, he’s already kicking himself for his silence, when Eddie’s voice rings out, “Hey, Steve?”

Steve turns fast, almost overbalances, but the meeting of their eyes steadies him. In the rich brown of Eddie’s, Steve thinks he sees all the things he wants to say echoed back. They gaze at each other in silence that thickens every millisecond until Eddie says, “make him pay,” and Steve lifts his chin in acknowledgement. He knows it’s not what Eddie means to say, thinks he understands why he can’t. 

There will be plenty of time for their confessions when they get out of this alive. And they will. Steve is sure of it. 

✏️✏️✏️✏️

It’s over.

It was hard. Bad. But it’s done. Vecna a smoldering ruin on the Upside Down version of the Creel House lawn. 

Steve doesn’t feel triumphant, exactly. They’d almost died, strangled by the vines, briefly outmatched by Vecna. He is relieved, though. Eager to get back to the trailer park, to Eddie and Dustin.

They traverse the Upside Down, silent now and free of earthquakes, closing in on the trailer park in record time. 

Up ahead, Steve makes out a hunched shape that must be Dustin in his ghillie suit. He wonders where Eddie is, but he’s not afraid. 

He picks up speed to close the distance faster. “Dustin!” he shouts. He means it to sound excited, triumphant, but it’s strangled. His heart’s beating too fast.

Steve is near enough, makes out the dark heap at Dustin’s feet. Someone is chanting a high-pitched, unbroken rhythm of “no, no, no, no, no, nononono,” and it takes him several long moments to realize the sound is coming from his own mouth. He can’t make himself stop.

“Steve,” Dustin sobs. He’s covered in red, leaned over Eddie’s prone form. 

There’s so much blood, congealing in dark pools on the grey earth.

“Eddie, Eddie, hey, hey,” Steve falls to his knees, fighting off the panicked keen building in his throat at Eddie’s mostly closed eyes. 

“Babylove, honey, sweetheart, please, please look at me, okay?” There are bites on his cheeks that Steve avoids, tapping at Eddie’s cheekbones with shaking fingers. 

Eddie’s eyes flutter, try to focus, but drift. “S’vie?” he rasps. 

“Hey, hey, It’s me. We’re gonna get you out of here, but you got to stay awake for me, okay?”

“N’ver thought I’d go to heaven,” Eddie mumbles, he fights his eyes from rolling back.

Steve forces a laugh. “What a line, man,” his focus shifts. “Robin, Nancy, we need to stop the bleeding.” 

They work in a flurry of motion, Steve talking to Eddie, struggling to keep him alert. 

“You gotta stay with me, Eds. Okay? I can’t be without you. You know that, right? You’re everything, Eddie. Everything.”

Eddie smiles with teeth full of blood. “Whatever you say, angel,” he whispers. His eyes slide shut.

Steve swallows his scream, hefts Eddie into his arms, and runs.

(Part 7)

This is a rough one, please feel free to shout at me about it. Thank you so much for reading! One more part to go; and don't worry, nobody dies and there's a happy ending.

I can't add anymore tags, but I appreciate each and every one of you for coming on the steddie notes journey with me! 💜💜💜

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CW//small instance that could be viewed as internalized homophobia

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

In the bottom of Steve’s closet is a Nike shoe box. It’s full of a year’s worth of torn notebook pages, paper menus, receipts, envelopes, sticky notes, notepad sheets, invoice carbon copies, discarded things from dnd, and whatever else they could find to write on.

It's this box that contains every bit of Steve’s heart. 

✏️✏️✏️✏️

Steve’s at the school to pick up Dustin, Mike and Lucas, but they don’t appear at 9pm on the dot like they promised. Grumbling and annoyed, Steve heads down to the drama club room.

He hears Eddie’s voice even before he walks into the room. The low baritone, all husky and threatening, sends shivers down Steve’s spine. 

Steve strides into the room, ready to berate his kids for their tardiness, but he stops literally in his tracks when he sees Eddie. Eddie looming over the table, all that long curly hair framing his face; his expression uncharacteristically dangerous, his eyes flat and promising violence.

He can’t do anything but stare, mouth shocked wide. Eddie lifts his gaze, locks it on Steve. Eddie’s looking at him with such intense command, such focus, that Steve knows he’d drop to his knees for that look, give Eddie anything he asked, everything.

He wants. So hard and so fast it makes him a little nauseous. 

Eddie’s gaze flicks away, while Steve reels from the striking clarity of feeling that rewrites the year of their friendship frame-by-frame.

Steve hardly listens, still trying to come to terms with his sudden realization, with how right it is, with how obvious it’s been this whole time. He remembers, after Starcourt, the way Eddie made him feel safe, cared for. The way Eddie calling him baby echoed for hours, days, weeks after. 

Of course Eddie doesn’t miss Steve's distraction. He leans into Steve's space, murmuring softly, “You okay, sweetheart? Sorry we ran late. Lost track of time.”

“Just tired, I guess.," he says. And he is distinctly not okay, because Eddie is calling him sweetheart and how did it take him this long to realize how much he loves the pet names? 

He tries to tell Eddie. Can’t. Too afraid of losing his friend.  He keeps going out with girls; nice girls, pretty girls, but wishes that Eddie was the one sitting beside him in the movie theater, in the passenger side of his car, across from him at the restaurant. 

Eddie…I think I really like you

You’re my favorite person in the entire world

Some days you’re the only thing I can think about

I want to wake up in bed with you everyday

I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you

Do you like me? Yes or No

✏️✏️✏️✏️

Steve’s in the Wheeler’s basement, leaning against Eddie's shoulder, waiting for the kids to finish up.

“What are they talking about?” He scribbles at the edge of Eddie’s campaign notes.

Eddie scowls at the note placement, responds anyway. 

“Halloween costumes.” 

“Wanna dress up together, Munson?”

“No way, Harrington, I’m not dressing up as Danny Zuko for you.”

“…obviously you’re Sandy.”

Eddie makes an offended noise. 

“I could do end of the movie Sandy. But face it, baby, you’re the pretty, fresh-faced innocent and I’m the bad boy.” 

Steve strangles back the sound he wants to make when his brain supplies him with an image of Eddie in those black, skin-tight pants.

“I could be a bad boy.”

Before Eddie can reply, the kids start shouting, and Eddie climbs on the wobbling card table, clapping his hands for attention. 

“Jesus, Eds." He grabs Eddie’s ankle to keep him stable. 

“I think a trip to the pumpkin patch is in order, what say you?”

There’s a blip where the whole room stills, every single one of them, aside from Eddie, remembering rotted fields and fetid tunnels filled with Upside Down spores and demo dogs. 

“Oh, yeah, we don’t go to the pumpkin patch anymore. You know, since the tunnels—”

Steve shoots Dustin the most intense silencing looks he’s ever given anyone, which is really saying something. 

They’d agreed, back in July that they would never tell Eddie what really happened at the mall. Eddie is too good, too gentle, brimming with too much pure kindness for Steve to want him anywhere near the Upside Down.

Eddie cackles. “Tunnels, Henderson?” 

Lucas laughs, says, “He means the maze. Don’t you remember? They set it up one time a few years ago.”

“We got really lost. Took us hours to find the exit,” Dustin adds. 

“Mike cried,” Lucas says. 

“Hey! I did not!” 

Mike’s anger at fake crying about a made-up crisis is enough to have them all in stitches, even Eddie who doesn’t know it’s a lie.  

“What about that apple orchard?” Steve suggests.

Eddie pokes him in the cheek, excited. “Ooh, yes, apple orchard!?”

✏️✏️✏️✏️

The orchard is a mad dash of fighting over wheelbarrows, shrieking sprints into the trees, Steve stressing at the kids throwing themselves across branches with zero regard for personal safety. 

Eddie nearly sends him into a coronary at the ripe old age of 19 by walking down a branch like he’s doing a tightrope. 

“Munson! Get your ass down from there!”

“I’m fine, Stevie! I’ve got reflexes like a cat.”

“The hell you do!” Steve shouts as Eddie wobbles. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I know you’ll always catch me,” Eddie yells back. He winks and Steve blushes about all of it. 

“You’ll just get us both hurt,” he says right as Eddie shimmies easily back to the ground. 

“You worry too much,” he scolds. “All this beautiful hair is going to go grey,” Eddie shuffles his fingers through the strands.

“You’re a menace,” he growls. Pushes Eddie playfully away. 

They pick apples and drink cider and it’s the best time Steve’s had in a while. He kids are spread out around him, Eddie and Robin on the quest for an apple that’s perfectly red, like you could poison Snow White with it, and he’s content. Happy. 

He lets himself bask in the moment, but it’s cut short by a familiar whooping yell and the crash of Eddie Munson clinging to his back.

He groans, almost loses his footing, but quickly hoists Eddie’s legs higher against his sides.

He runs and Eddie screams, giggling, and clutches his fists into the fabric of Steve’s sweater. 

“Can’t believe you caught me, sweetheart,” Eddie says once Steve slows to a walk.

“I’ll always catch you, Eds,” he promises.

Eddie makes a little noise, almost like a whimper, pressing his cheek against Steve’s.

And for just a second, the barest hint of a moment in time, Steve swears he feels Eddie’s lips pressed against the sensitive skin right beneath his ear. 

It’s right then that Steve knows he doesn’t just like Eddie. No, he’s positively, totally, and completely in love with him.

(Part 5)

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(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

He’s looking up at the most beautiful face in the world, all hard-planed jaw beautiful moles sensual mouth. There are bloody fingerprints on the strong chin and agony warps those sharp features. Eddie loves this face more than anything, so if this is the last thing he sees before he dies, he can’t be mad. Except, he doesn’t understand why Steve is so unhappy. He tries to open his mouth, to ask what’s wrong, what happened, but he’s engulfed in a pain so acute, so mind contorting, that everything goes black.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

He sees two men holding each other. Crying? His ears are thick, stuffed with cotton, no sound penetrating. One of them moves, his face now visible, and Eddie’s heart contracts. Uncle Wayne. 

Sound rushes in at the shock of seeing his uncle. His uncle crying. He can hear them now, Wayne’s partially stifled sobs, and a cracked, rough, wavering voice saying through tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I tried to keep him safe. I tried—"

“Shhh, my boy, you did your best. I know you did. You brought him back, Steve.”

“But he might—The doctors say—it’s all my fault, Wayne. I did this. I didn’t keep him safe.”

Eddie wants to yell, to get their attention. Can’t stand to see the two men he loves most in the world crying when he’s right here. 

✏️✏️✏️✏️

Wayne, asleep with his arms crossed over his chest, in a plastic chair. And Steve—Steve still here, still with him, still waiting for him to wake up. Steve’s left hand twines with one of Eddie’s and he’s propped up just so that he can write and hold a notebook steady at the same time. That’s briefly confusing before he recognizes that it’s a black Composition Book, one of Eddie’s own with a dragon inked in red on the front. 

He allows himself to watch Steve, admire the curve of his cheek, the sharpness of his jaw, the lovely moles and freckles across his skin (the nights Eddie spent thinking about kissing each and every one of those marks). His hair is deflated, falling limply over his forehead, but he’s still so beautiful, Eddie almost can’t take it. 

✏️✏️✏️✏️

This time is different. He senses it immediately, his head less fuzzy, his fingers able to twitch. He’s like awake awake. There’s a tube in his throat, which fucking sucks, sort of hurts. He wants to claw it out, but that seems extreme. 

He doesn’t see Wayne, but he’s not alone, his fingers twisted into someone’s hair, the silken fine strands soft against his palm. Eddie’s eyes drift down to find Steve, head cradled on his arms against the edge of the hospital bed, snoring gently. Eddie can’t stop himself from pressing the flat of his hand into the chestnut locks.

Eddie’s touch has Steve blinking sleepy hazel right before he springs to his feet, “Eddie??” he yelps. Eddie, for his part, opens his mouth to respond, remembers the tube down his throat, and settles for waving. 

“Holy shit,” Steve says. He slams the “call” button, then says, “Fuck this, be right back,” and flees into the hall. 

Later, when the doctors all leave, Eddie can’t stop the tears that slip free, but Steve is there, holding his hands, crawling into the narrow bed with him to hold him close until they fall asleep, Eddie’s head on Steve’s chest.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

A week later, Eddie wakes up in an empty room. He hasn’t been alone, even once, since regaining consciousness and he has a second of panic before he hears the soft murmur of Steve’s voice from just outside the door. It’s relaxing, and Eddie’s gaze falls to the shockingly blue sky out his window. 

He's lucky, he knows. He lived, the murder charges were dropped, he found a group of people to call family. 

And Steve. Even if they’re just friends. It’s okay. He’s okay with that. Steve saved his life, stayed by his side, gave Eddie the most love he’s ever had. And that’s good.

He’s so locked into his thoughts he doesn’t realize that Steve’s come back into the room until there’s a Hawkins General branded notepad and pen thumping into his lap.   

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Just thinking.”

“Good stuff?”

Eddie smiles as he writes. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Just that I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”

Steve’s face flushes a pretty pink and maybe Eddie takes it back, being okay with just friends. 

“Best friends forever, right?”

It’s Eddie’s turn to blush. “As long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever then.”

He looks at Steve, then, at the flush of his face and the brightness of his eyes and wishes.

“Eds.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I like it.”

“Steve,” he whispers. His heart’s going a mile a minute and Steve is looking at him, gazing at him, his whole fucking heart in those hazel eyes. 

“I have something for you,” Steve says. It’s careful, like he’s afraid Eddie will spook. He pulls a crumpled sheet of paper from his jacket pocket, smoothing it out, handing it over.

Eddie looks at the note. 

“You ever been in love?” it says.

“No, but I think I’m falling,” is the answer

“I love you, Eddie,” is the follow-up. It’s accompanied by an atrocious sketch of a sailor boy and a rockstar holding hands, little asymmetrical valentine’s hearts between them.

Eddie can’t help it, he laughs even as tears fill his eyes. His heart is all twisted up, his mind reeling. This can’t be real. How can this be real.

“Eds?” Steve asks. He’s nervous now, breathy, and oh, he really meant it. 

Steve Harrington is in love with Eddie Munson. 

Jesus Christ. 

“Stevie?” Eddie can’t quite get air into his lungs; he’s so overwhelmed with fondness. “Baby, I love you so much.” 

Steve’s crying now. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” he writes.

 “You took as much time as you needed, considering I thought you were straight.”

“Me too. Until you.”

“Come here?” Eddie shifts as far over in the hospital bed as he can. He has to have Steve close, has to touch him, has to make sure this is actually happening. 

Steve climbs up, gentle in a way that only Steve Harrington can be, and Eddie curls into him, holding the man he loves as tight as he can. 

“Can I say that I’m sorry?” Steve asks, mouth against Eddie’s ear. 

“Again? I don’t think you have anything else to apologize for.”

“Kissing you that night.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow and Steve seems to catch the misstep, quickly says. “Oh, shit. No, I’m not sorry for the kiss, but for when it happened. You were upset and I thought it might help?”

Eddie giggles, can’t stop it, but cups a hand around the contours of Steve’s cheek. 

“It did help. But mayyybe the circumstances weren’t the best.” 

“That’s why I’m sorry.” His eyes flick to Eddie’s mouth. “You think I can make up for it now?” 

“Please,” Eddie answers, can hardly get the words out, too shocked at how this is his life; that the boy he loves, loves him back.

One of Steve’s hands winds into the hair at the back of Eddie’s skull, and then they’re kissing, soft and slow, and he can’t think of anything aside from Steve Harrington’s gentle chapped lips and the stubble on his jaw and the way his mouth feels around Eddie’s tongue.  

They pull apart after a couple of minutes, Eddie already feeling the strain on his battered body. Their foreheads rest against each other, still sharing air.  

“I love you,” Eddie whispers. 

“Love you more than anything, Eds,” Steve answers, his hold on Eddie tightening, like he'll never, ever let go.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

On a napkin from the Hideout, imprinted with the ring of a glass and half-formed song lyrics:

“What if we owned this place, Stevie? I’ve got ideas.”

“You want to?”

“Been thinking about it. As much as I’m shocked to admit it, we could have a life here. A good one, I think.”

“Whatever you want, babylove. Whatever makes you happy. You know I’ll go wherever you are.” 

“Even if we stay in shitty old Hawkins?”

“Even then. Best friends forever, yeah?”

“God, you’re a dork, Harrington”

“The dork you’ve been in love with for three years.”

“I’m having second thoughts.”

“Like hell you are. You’re obsessed with me.”

It ends with a cheeky little sketch of a devil.

On a Hawkins Middle paystub for guidance counselor Steve Harrington:

“Wanna do the one-shot with us when the kids are home for Christmas?”

“Sure”

--

“What?”

“Sure. Sure says Steve Harrington like it’s nothing, like I haven’t asked you to play almost every week for YEARS.”

“Calm down, Munson. Let’s just say you wore me down.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“Paladin, do you think?”

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Hmm, what race, though? I want to be something cool.”

“Steve.”

“Huh?”

“Take your fucking clothes off right fucking now”

On a wedding invitation addressed to Steve and Eddie (return address Max Mayfield and Lucas Sinclair):

“Why didn’t you get more milk???”

“Oops, sorry, Stevie. Forgot”

“Well???’

“Oh, you want me to go now. Okay. Back soon.”

“Love you, Eds”

“Love you more, Stevie.”

On scattered bits of paper and detritus across the Munson household:

“Love you, baby”

“Love you more”

“Love you most”

“You’re everything, Munson.”

“Kiss me”

“Always”

“You’re beautiful, Steve Harrington. Can’t believe I get to have this.”

“Love you”

“Love you more”

(BONUS PART)

This is the end of the Steddie Notes saga (though there may be a Steddie Notes-verse surprise coming soon 😈) This part took longer than usual because I wanted to make it perfect. I hope you love it as much as I do!!! I'll be posting this on ao3 soon, if you want to check it out there too (I'll be adding back pieces I cut for length). Thank you all so much for sticking with me! It's been such a pleasure to write and share with you all! 💜💜💜

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Enjoy!! 💜💜