Chapter Text
It had been about a year and a half since The Vecna Thing. A year and a half of rebuilding their lives, nursing people back to health, and desperately trying to move on from that stupid spring break. Healing looked different for everyone.
The kids stuck together like they were fused at the hips. The Byers moved back to Hawkins, which meant that the original group was reformed with the addition of a reluctant Erica. They would hole up in Joyce’s home, or in the Wheelers' basement, almost every night. It was reminiscent of the old days, but with a new undercurrent to it; like they were afraid that if they split, a new body would drop, and everything would go back to the way it was almost two years ago.
And Steve? Steve could understand that.
He avoided being alone with a ferocity; surrounded by people as constantly as he could manage. It started by micromanaging the kids, who were teenagers now, until Dustin sat him down, and bluntly told him to “get a life, Steve. You need friends your age.”
Ouch.
He was right, of course, but still. It took almost the full year for Steve to be away from the kids without getting a pit in his stomach.
It started with Robin, because of course it did. She was easy to talk to- she was his best friend. They still worked together at Family Video, having miraculously kept their jobs, and they would hang out on weekends whenever they could. She never said it, but Robin didn’t want to be alone either. Not really.
And that was enough, Steve thought. To have his best friend with whom he’d been to hell and back in the most literal sense. She understood him like no one else, and she kept his neuroses in check, so he did the same for her. It worked for them.
And then Nancy broke up with Jonathan
It wasn’t surprising, really. The weight of long distance and the near apocalypse snapped their already strained bond, and they had to go separate ways. They committed to being friends, but it was still awkward, and they couldn’t talk to each other the way they used to. Which meant Nancy was alone.
And listen, Steve is a dick, but he wasn’t enough of a self absorbed asshole to watch her mope and not do anything. So their duo became a trio, and slowly, things began to feel normal again. Steve and Nancy had a stilted, awkward conversation about what happened over spring break, and mutually agreed that they had both been running on adrenaline, and yes, maybe a touch of desperation. They’d always love each other, but they wouldn’t really love each other. They probably never should have.
It felt right, being friends again. Aside from Dustin, Nancy and Robin were the two people Steve cared about the most- always had. They knew him better than most, and they were some of the few people he truly, genuinely, felt safe around.
Nancy would visit Family Video during their shifts, and they would make some haphazard plan for the evening, which usually concluded in a bad movie and them crashing in Steve’s perpetually empty living room. It was routine, at this point. It hardly ever changed, and Steve found a weird sense of comfort in that. He knew what to expect, and he knew that no matter what, he would be safe.
And then, one afternoon, Robin brought up Eddie.
Eddie, whom Steve barely knew. Eddie, who was probably the definition of unpredictable, and Eddie, who Steve had no clue what to do with.
They were friends, sure. They’d had an emotional moment in the hospital where Steve had broken down and apologized for being such a relentless piece of shit to him, and Eddie had awkwardly forgiven him, like he didn’t really know what to do with the situation. They were friends, but really, at the end of the day, they didn’t have much to talk about.
Eddie was, and always had been, of a different social class. It wasn’t something Steve really cared about these days, but it did mean that their lives were deeply, undeniably different.
Eddie pushed drugs in high school to pay for food, and Steve was the jock who bought them through Tommy. Eddie listened to hard metal, and Steve relaxed to ABBA. Eddie was gay, Steve was straight. They just lived different lives, and no one particularly wanted to reminisce on spring break, so they really didn’t have anything to discuss.
But Robin had shifted on her feet on the Family video carpet, and told Steve and Nancy that she saw Eddie getting wasted out of the back of his van at midnight a few nights ago. She’d been working the stock shift, and hadn’t left the store until late into the night. Apparently, Eddie had parked his van in one of the nearby parking lots, staring at a bottle in his hands like he’d see some truth in it.
Robin had asked him if he was okay, and Eddie had reportedly given her “the saddest smile I’ve ever seen, oh my god, I almost cried,” and said that he was doing “absolutely spectacular.”
It turns out that after everything- after nearly sacrificing his life to save the entire fucking town- Eddie had been the final one to be left alone.
Guilt, Steve found, was a heavy weight, and they’d all unanimously agreed to invite him to their hangout that evening.
And really, it had went… shockingly well.
Steve liked Eddie, he’d discovered. It was a shocking realization, but he did. He was charismatic, and absurd, and surprisingly personable when it came down to it. He’d said that at first, he’d spent a lot of time with his uncle in their new home, but that eventually, his uncle had to go back to night shifts at the plant, and Eddie was just… alone.
He’d shrugged it off and given them a twisted smile, but it didn’t really fool anyone. It was an unspoken agreement in that moment that Eddie wouldn’t ever be alone like that again. So, their duo-turned-trio was a quartet.
The Indianapolis trip was Nancy’s idea.
She’d sprung it on them one night, eyes shining as she’d declared that they all needed to get out of Hawkins. She’d suggested they go clubbing now that they were all of age, and Robin had oh so hesitantly asked if they could go to a gay bar.
Eddie lit up.
He’d turned the puppy dog eyes on Steve, spinning some sob story about Robin needing to explore gay culture, and that "really, it was a rite of passage" and that by stopping her, Steve was denying her the "authentic queer experience that she was entitled to."
It really wasn’t necessary; Steve was pretty certain he couldn’t deny Robin of a single thing that she wanted.
So they hastily made plans. They pooled together some money to book two rooms at an acceptable motel in the city. Truthfully, it was 60% Steve’s money, 25% Nancy’s, 10% Robin’s, and 5% Eddie’s, but he didn’t mind, not really.
Eddie’s job was to bring them to the actual bar itself, and to supply them with a shit-ton of pot and fake IDs for Robin and Nance, whereas Steve would drive them down in his BMW so that Eddie didn’t need to spend his scarce funds on gas. He’s not yet entirely sure of what Nancy and Robin were contributing, but Nancy claimed that since it was her idea, she’s done her part.
Robin hadn’t brought much to the table, but Steve really doesn’t have the heart to be upset about it; not when she spends the week leading up to the trip beaming with excitement. She claims that she’s just happy to spend time with her friends, but Steve suspects that part of what Eddie said was true. Robin hasn’t been able to really experience gay things. Her exposure to the culture has been limited to Rocky Horror Picture Show- something she insists Steve needs to see- and Elton John. It's a bit sad, he thinks. She’s twenty, gorgeous, and has energy that puts the sun to shame. She should be living life to the fullest, and she’s stuck working in a shitty Family Video store with Steve and watching bad movies with their two other friends at night.
And then comes Eddie, who is apparently this plethora of knowledge when it comes to gay stuff. He’s been around the block so many times that the block should be renamed after him, and he’s only a year older than them. Steve wants to be jealous when he sees how Robin flocks to him for information and stories, but he can't, not really. Not when she finally has someone she can be truly open and honest with- someone who can answer at least a handful of her questions.
Eddie is like her gay confidant, and Steve has to confront the fact that he just can’t be that for her.
So he drives them to Indianapolis. He bitches only mildly about Eddie’s music, and he tolerates his stories about his previous visits, because Robin is absolutely grinning in the passenger seat and that’s his best friend.
And, he thinks to himself, Eddie is kind of endearing when he starts telling stories.
|~*~|
It’s kind of unceremonious when they get there.
They decided that Eddie and Steve will take one room, and that Robin and Nancy would take the other. They part only briefly to drop their bags in their rooms before they reconvene in Steve and Eddie’s. They’re all tried from the drive, but still thrumming with anticipation for the night, which leaves them in a bizarre limbo where they kind of want to pass out, but couldn’t fall asleep even if they had the time.
So, of course, Eddie pulls out the pot.
The sun is just starting to set by the time they’re properly settled, and they’re itching to get some sort of start to the night, so it doesn’t take much convincing. Nancy and Robin had Eddie buy them a couple beers on the way down, so they crack them open while Eddie hands Steve a joint with ringed hands and a lopsided grin.
“I take it you know what to do?” He’d said, and Steve scoffed, because of course he did, he wasn’t a fucking saint. He’d been to enough ragers in high school to learn that alcohol wasn’t the only option when you wanted to get absolutely fucked up.
His mistake was assuming that Eddie’s pot would be anything like the shit from high school parties.
Because now? Now Steve is laying on one of the beds, staring at the ceiling as he processes how truly incredible the shit Eddie brought was- how life changing. Eddie, who is perched on the edge of the bed, eyes a little foggy, grin loose and amused. Nancy and Robin are sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall directly in front of the bed, swallowing their drinks when Robin suggests 20 questions.
Steve groans, a bit dramatically. “That's such a high school game.”
“Well not all of us had a million friends in high school, and we couldn’t play.” Robin sneers sarcastically, earning a fond snort of laughter from Nancy.
“Yeah, but…” Steve rolls onto his side, squinting his eyes to focus on Robin, who is watching him with a raised brow. His brain feels like it's bouncing off of his skull. “I don't know, its so… Boring.”
“Lets not make it boring then.” Nancy shrugs with a mischievous smirk. “No boring questions. None of that what's your favourite color nonsense.”
“I think we’ve been through enough shit that we can come up with something good somehow.” Is Eddie’s official opinion as he takes a drag from his own joint. Robin grins.
“That's the spirit!” She turns her puppy dog eyes onto Steve then, pinching her eyebrows together to look especially pathetic. “C’mon Steve. Please?”
“Yeah Steve.” Eddie’s leaning unnecessarily close, pitching his voice up in a mimic of Robin’s, dark eyes widening exaggeratedly. “Please?”
And… something happens then. Steve’s stomach backflips at the proximity, chest tightening in a way that he really can't understand. He mentally passes it off as a side effect of the pot, but it doesn’t explain the way he finds himself staring at Eddie’s lips with a concerning transfixion- that one, he can't really rectify.
It's a familiar feeling- one reserved for pretty girls with soft hair and pink lips. It shows up time-to-time when he gets a sly grin in response to his flirtations, or when sparkly eyes look up through long lashes. He knows this feeling, but it’s never assaulted him quite like this. It's never been so loud, and it's never been directed towards Eddie of all people.
A feeling like shame creeps up in his throat, and he’s swallowing hard before shoving at Eddie’s shoulder with a playful laugh.
“Fine, whatever. Whatever!”
Steve watches as Eddie punches the air a few times in victory and the girls cheer. He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on with him right now, and he needs to look away.
It's easy enough when Robin is crowing: “Dealers choice! I'm starting!”
The game is relatively harmless for the first bit, and it’s enough to take him back out of his head. Robin asks Steve who his favourite kid out of the seven is, and he sputters incoherently, insisting that he loves them all equally before Nancy cuts in with a dry tone, saying that its Dustin. Steve doesn’t protest.
He does, however, return the favour by asking Robin who her gay awakening was, and she takes it in stride, sighing dreamily as she says that Bad Sandy in Grease changed her life.
The game goes like this for a while, relatively innocent questions with just enough edge to stay entertaining. Steve’s brain is back to floating somewhere in the ceiling, beginning to filter out voices and finally, finally relax, when Nancy asks Eddie a question.
“Alright Munson.” She bares her teeth in a grin like a wolf. “Tell the class: what’s your biggest sexual fantasy?”
Steve is wide fucking awake.
He manages to not sit up embarrassingly quick, saving himself from looking like a bonehead as he slowly, very casually, rolls onto his side to look at Eddie’s face.
A slow smile creeps into his features, and his dark eyes flash. “Oh, you’re asking the good questions, Wheeler.” He takes another long pull of his joint, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect. Steve doesn’t care. He wants to know the answer. He needs to know it.
Eventually, Eddie blows out the smoke, eyes a little hazy as he grins at the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”
The girls burst out laughing, cheering, and Eddie joins in, like the whole thing is a big funny joke. Steve isn’t laughing, though. He’s still staring at the long column of Eddie’s throat, replaying the stupid words in his head.
It isn’t a new concept to Steve- he knows guys who talked in hushed whispers about how their girlfriends let them wrap their hands around her throat. Sometimes, they said, they got to slap her on the ass when they fucked. Sometimes they messed around in their cars.
Steve had never done it; never really wanted to. It was always framed as something they were permitted to do, and not as something that was particularly desired on the receivers end, which always made him feel unsettled under his skin.
But there was Eddie, slightly stoned with a joint hanging from his lips as he admitted that he’d always wanted to get throttled and smacked in someone’s car like it was nothing.
Steve’s gaze falls to his own hands, and he finds himself considering them. Does he have nice hands? He doesn’t really know. They’re veiny and thick, he supposes, not entirely sure of what that meant in this context. He wonders what his hands would look like against the slim paleness of Eddie’s neck; how hard they could hit before it wasn’t good anymore. He thinks of the BMW they drove down in. He thinks about a lot of things.
He’s pulled out of his thinkings when Robin tosses a t-shirt at his head.
“Hey doofus! Still with us?”
Steve sputters incoherently as he’s unceremoniously yanked back down to earth, and he drops the shirt to the ground.
“Mean.” He mutters. “And I'm fine, thank you. Just…” he closes his eyes, and a there’s a quick flash of Eddie’s head tilted back, throat exposed, eyes glassy and lips parted. He opens his eyes. “God, Im so fucking high.”
And that has to be it- that has to be why Steve’s brain was conjuring these images in his head. He’s stoned out of his mind- he always gets horny when he’s was high. It’s a thing, really.
Robin and Nancy laugh, quipping about him being a lightweight, but Eddie is looking at him, eyes slightly narrowed, as if he’s trying to figure something out. It makes Steve’s heart leap in his throat. It lasts for only a moment before Eddie is putting out the spliff with a grin.
“I think it’s club time.”
|~*~|
The club is loud.
Steve’s been to parties, but this is different- this is a whole other monster. The beat is thumping so loudly that he can feel it through the floor. Bodies are packed together, sliding up against each other as drunk people of all genders twist and grind in the crowd. The air tastes damp, and he can smell the mix of perfume and cologne and sweat that lingers in a cloud above his head.
It’s heady, and wild, and insane, and kind of amazing.
Eddie looks like he belongs there. He changed into a pair of slightly nicer, yet slightly more ripped black jeans, and a shirt that cuts off right below his chest. It looks like it may have been a band shirt once upon a time, but it's now been torn in half and barely makes it to his ribs. Nancy smudged some eyeliner around his eyes before they left. He looks like the devil. He looks like a dream.
He’s guiding them through the throng of bodies to the bar, and Steve is so caught in his wave that he just follows without question.
Robin and Nancy are fairly tipsy already, and Steve is still stoned as shit, but they let Eddie order them a round of beers anyways. Steve briefly wonders if the girls are under the same hex as he is, or if he’s alone on this one.
Eddie hops up onto the counter, and if the bartender minds, he doesn’t show it- doesn’t even spare them a glance. That’s insane to Steve, because he can’t fathom looking away from Eddie right now.
Eddie clinks their bottles together, eyes a little glassy from the pot, and grins with his teeth. “Bottoms up.”
He does this thing then where he puts his lips around the rim, swishes the bottle in a circle to create a funnel, and then swallows it down in less than five seconds. Eddie is slamming the empty bottle onto the bar and wiping at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like a maniac.
Steve is staring. He’s absolutely staring. He thinks the girls are too, but he can't be certain because he can't tear his eyes away from Eddie.
It's concerning, Steve thinks, that he started this trip trying to help Robin with the gay experience, but he's the one going through a goddamned gay revelation. He vaguely knows that later, when he's sober, he'll be in a panic over this, but now? Now he's staring at Eddie's mouth and trying to figure out how he's going to get his own pressed against it.
|~*~|
It's almost two AM when shit really starts going down.
Eddie played the role of queer guidance counselor very dutifully for maybe an hour and a half. He gave them the ley of the land, showing them what areas and people were safe, and which ones are very much not. They started by ordering drinks- only going for the incredibly cheap beers- but even that didn't last long. A few women sent drinks Robin and Nancy's way, earning a very visible blush from Robin, and a surprisingly wolfish grin from Nancy. Steve had a small number of men buy him drinks, but all he managed to do was stare in surprise and confusion. One time, he said: "hey, thanks buddy," and the guy looked so bewildered that he had to walk away.
So yeah, Steve Harrington? Phenomenal with women- piss fucking poor with men.
Not like Eddie.
Because Eddie? Fucking Eddie had guys buying him shit left and right.
It was bizarre, because while he was devastatingly attractive, Eddie had never really garnered much positive attention in Hawkins. But here? In this loud gay bar in Indianapolis? Eddie was like a fucking deity.
Some guys even buy them a whole round, just so they can sit next to him a little longer- push their luck even harder. Eddie deals with it gracefully, like this happens all the time, and shit does it? Because he flirts back just enough to wheedle extra shots out of them, but shuts it down so elegantly that it seems practiced, like he can't ever get a drink without these big men falling at his feet. And shit, that's a dizzying thought, because they've never seen him like this.
Sure, they've seen Eddie playfully flirt, eyes wide and grin manic, but this isn't that. This is Eddie tipping his head back to let some tall man pour cognac down his throat. This is Eddie softly tracing a finger over a man's thumb as he bemoans about being unable to afford the nice cocktails. Steve didn't even know that you could buy nice cocktails at a club. He thinks the guys are a bit pathetic, because they have to know how out of their league Eddie is, but Steve's the one paying for his hotel and chauffeuring him around, so what does that make him?
An idiot, he thinks as he watches Eddie take a full shot glass out of a man's mouth with his own. A big, horny idiot.
Now, as a direct result of all this attention, two things happen:
One: Eddie gets incredibly drunk.
Two: They lose him to the dancefloor.
Once Eddie is gone, they all disperse. Robin is chaperoned by Nancy, who doesn't look put out in the slightest as Robin tugs her through the crowd to look at girls. Steve is still pretty out of it, but he does fleetingly think that it's nice to see Robin look at girls without being absolutely terrified. She's actually pretty shameless about it, and in return, girls are shameless about it back. He's a little proud, honestly.
Steve looks at the crowd, and he considers dancing before remembering how he reacted when a man just bought him a drink. He doesn't want to know how he'll embarrass himself if a man tries to dance with him. He settles for staying at the bar.
Besides, from here, he has a clear view of Eddie.
Eddie, it turns out, is a pretty good dancer when he's wasted. Steve is willing to wager that he'd trip over his own feet and eat shit if he actually made a conscious effort to dance, but like this? Drunk and high and moving unconsciously to the beat? He looks good, and it's not just Steve who's noticing.
It's not surprising, based on the way the drinks went, and Eddie handles it relatively the same way. He smoothly sidesteps the men who grab for his waist, twisting away to a different side of the dancefloor. Sometimes, he'll pause with them and sway for a beat to catch his balance before making his departure. Generally speaking, he can anticipate the oncomers, and it allows him to slink off before they can make any solid contact, but sometimes they catch him by surprise.
That's how they got here.
The man is visibly older than them, but not by much. If Steve has to hazard a guess, he would say late twenties. He was taller than all of them, though- at least six feet with broad shoulders encased in a skin tight white t-shirt that strained against his biceps. His hair was short and black, reminding Steve of Danny Zuko in Grease, except this guy had dark stubble dusted along his jaw. He was hot, Steve’s cross-faded brain supplies, in the kind of intimidating way that high schoolers always tried to achieve but could never pull off.
Steve watches from the bar as the guy makes his way through the throng of bodies to slot himself against Eddie’s back, hand sliding over his waist. Eddie jumps, head swinging around to look at the person behind him with startled eyes. The way he visibly settles when he takes in the man’s appearance would’ve been comical if Steve’s blood wasn’t burning so hot under his skin.
Eddie still looks a little anxious, but it's a different kind of nervous; eyes big and lower lip pulled between his teeth. The man looks at him like a predator, shifting harder against him as his large hand drags over Eddie’s bare waist. Eddie’s eyes track the movement with a shiver, pressing back against him, and oh-
Oh.
Right.
So that was his type. Huh. Not what Steve would've predicted given Eddie’s own personal style, but Eddie really couldn’t be more obvious than he was being. He was arching his back as a new song with a heavy drum line started, swaying to the beat as the man behind him took a steady hold of his hips, making indents into the fabric. One hand came up to drag up his chest, brushing his hair over his shoulder, thumbing at his jaw, then slowly pulling his neck back so that his head was tilted against the man’s shoulder.
They stay like that for a few beats, moving to the thumping rhythm of the song until abruptly, the man yanks hard on Eddie’s hip, spinning him around so aggressively that Eddie trips into his chest. The man catches him by the elbows, staring down at him with a positively feral grin.
Steve can see the movement of Eddie’s throat as he swallows hard, fingers clutching at the man’s shirt, eyes flickering up and down. The man’s face takes on a look then- almost condescending- as he moves his hands up, slowly at first, before quickly snatching the back of Eddie’s neck and a fistful of hair. He yanks his head back so that Eddie is craning to look up at him. His other hand holds onto Eddie’s jaw, fingers digging into his cheeks to keep his mouth open.
His eyes are concerningly passive as they track over Eddie’s face, as if considering him. His thumb moves then, swiping over Eddie’s lower lip slowly, and Eddie-
Well, Eddie…
Eddie sticks his tongue out.
Not in the sharp, sometimes manic way he did when he’s being particularly strange, or the way it pokes out when he’s concentrating. No, no, Steve knows those versions, this is different.
He relaxes his jaw and lets his tongue lay flat out of his mouth, catching the thumb with a disturbingly innocent look in his eyes. The man’s breath catches, and Steve feels his do the same. He’s shifting slightly against the bar as his pants begin to feel significantly tighter.
The man presses his thumb down onto Eddie’s tongue, holding him there, other hand still gripping onto the back of his neck. He says something then that Steve can’t make out, but it makes Eddie smile like he’s breathless, eyes closing momentarily, and his words from earlier ring out in Steve’s brain.
“I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”
He should really stop thinking about it, honestly. And he should really, really stop looking, but god, he can’t. The way Eddie’s body arches towards the man like he was desperate for contact; the way the man shakes him by the jaw to keep his attention- it’s… uncomfortably erotic. And even though it’s a public place, Steve feels very much like he’s watching something very private.
And then he catches it.
The slight stumble of Eddie’s feet, even though he’s standing entirely still. The way his head lolls ever so slightly, eyes foggy and bleary, fingers clumsily searching for purchase on the man’s shirt. He’s drunk, Steve remembers. Really, really fucking drunk, and his brain helpfully reminds him of the two and a half joints Eddie had smoked prior to going out. He’s intoxicated out of his mind, and the guy is standing steadily- firmly on his feet, eyes far too aware.
Oh, fuck that.
Before he’s even aware of it, Steve is moving, legs carrying himself over to the pair, fists clenched.
The guy sees him coming a few steps away, and he releases his grip, immediately causing Eddie to stumble even harder with a whimper Steve is very actively ignoring.
“Alright Munson, we’re leaving.” Steve says once he reaches them, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Harrington?” Eddie blinks a few times, like he can’t quite focus his eyes, and oh god, this is so fucked up.
“Yeah- yeah man, it's me. C’mon, we’re gonna get the girls and head out-“
“Its alright.” The man cuts in smoothly, holding Eddie’s bicep possessively and looking at Steve with a disturbing saccharine smile. “I can take care of him.”
Steve feels every single nerve in his body light on fire.
“Yeah.” He laughs dryly. “Yeah, fuck no. In case you haven’t picked up on it; he’s drunk. Really fucking drunk.” He doesn’t even mention the amount of pot they’d smoked.
“Is he?” The man hums, tilting Eddie’s head up by the chin as if to examine him before looking back at Steve with a sinister smile. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Yeah, fuck this guy.
Steve laughs humorlessly before looking back up at the guy, widening his shoulders and levelling him the most threatening look he could muster, every ounce of contempt he had leaking into the stare.
“Right, so here’s what’s gonna happen.” He snarls through grit teeth. “You’re gonna let go of my friend here, we’re gonna leave, and you’re gonna walk away without a broken nose. Sounds good?”
The man’s demeanour shifts then, as if he was sizing Steve up, considering whether it was worth it or not. “Listen here, motherfucker-"
“Steve?” Eddie’s drowsy voice cuts through then. They both look at him, Steve with distinctly more concern as Eddie desperately tries to get his eyes to focus. “I think the floor is moving. I feel… swimy.”
Steve immediately puts his hands on his shoulders, steadying him. “I know you do, man.” He says softly. “Let's grab the girls and head out, yeah?”
“Head out?” Eddie slurs, head tilted to the side with confusion. “But I was talking to-“ he looks at the man with a squint. “What was your name?”
The man looks between them before something like clarity washes over his face. “Oh, I see what’s going on here.” He cocks a brow in amusement, raising his hands in mock surrender before looking at Steve with a smug look. “Fuck him good for me, will you?”
With that, he retreats, and Steve feels the blood roar in his ears. He’s fully prepared to go after the man- beat the shit out of him for even thinking about Eddie like that- when Eddie trips over his own feet, drawing Steve’s attention back to him.
“Shit, okay, yeah, we gotta get back to the hotel.” He looks around the club, considering his options before wrapping an arm around Eddie’s waist, helping him stumble over to the bar stools. He sits him down in one, and Eddie goes easily, eyes unfocused and limbs pliant as he looks up at Steve.
“What’re we doin’?” He asks dazedly as Steve flags down a bartender.
“I'm getting Rob and Nance, and you’re gonna stay here, okay?” He looks up to the bartender then. “Water for him- can you keep an eye out for him? We’re getting a cab home, I gotta get our friends, just- don’t let anyone touch him or anything, please. I'll be back soon.”
The bartender looks down at Eddie’s slumped form, and nods once. “Yeah, don’t worry about it man, I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Good, thank you.” Steve sighed, looking back at Eddie, who was staring up at him with big glassy eyes. “Eddie, hey.” He puts a hand on his shoulder. “Im gonna get the girls- you stay here, okay? If someone other than me tries to come get you, you stay here, okay? You just wait right here for me. Can you do that?”
“Mhmm.” Eddie hums, eyes hooded and sincere. “Yes sir.”
Steve draws a sharp breath and stands up straight, swallowing hard. “Okay- yeah. Good. I'm gonna- I'll be right back.”
He moves as fast as he can without falling on his nose.
|~*~|
The girls aren't initially pleased about leaving, but when Steve explains the situation, their drunk faces sober up a bit, and they nod.
Thankfully, Eddie is exactly where Steve left him, staring at the floor with a murderous squint. A few guys are eyeing him like sharks, but the bartender shoots absolutely vicious glares their way, and they retreat as quickly as they came. That bartender may just be Steve's favourite person in the world, maybe ever. The feeling is intensified when he finds out that the guy already called a cab for them, and that it's waiting right outside. Steve wants to kiss him, but instead just slaps a twenty on the bar and hauls his friends out of the club.
Nancy sits in the front while Steve piles into the back of the cab with Robin and Eddie. He's sandwiched between them as they both cling onto him, drunk bodies unable to stay upright on their own. Robin opts to lay on his shoulder, eyes closed as she whines about how nauseous she is. Steve sees the driver raise his eyebrows in the mirror, and he offers him what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
Eddie, on the other hand, is relatively quiet. He's laying on Steve's other shoulder, holding onto his arm with both hands like it's a soft pillow. His face is tilted up so that he can see Steve's, and he's just staring at him. His eyes are wide and glassy- drunk- but they're looking at him with such an intensity that Steve feels like prey in a trap. Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek a few times, lets his eyes drag over Steve's torso, and then cocks his head to the side in curiosity. Steve doesn't know what he's looking for, but he hopes he finds it. He hopes he's showing it to him.
When he looks up, he catches Nancy's stare in the mirror. She looks like she's analyzing something, and Steve immediately breaks the gaze.
He doesn't want to know what she sees.
|~*~|
When they get to the motel, Nancy is sober enough to help Robin to their room. She gives Steve that look again, but he's resolutely avoiding her. In the morning, he'll say that he "doesn't know what she's talking about; he was just so drunk," and she'll squint, but that will be that. Right now, he's ignoring the throbbing of his brain so that he can properly support Eddie's weight and haul him off to their own room.
Eddie is hanging off of him, feet thudding gracelessly on the asphalt as they walk to the door. When Steve fumbles with the lock, Eddie hums in his ear, and it's so much closer than Steve thought. He jumps a bit, and Eddie gives him a lazy-eyed grin, like he's terribly amused by this. He's so pretty, Steve thinks to himself. He's hazy and relaxed and so, so beautiful. It feels a bit offensive. Steve is too drunk to deal with this.
He manages to get the door open, and makes a very concentrated effort to not stumble. He deposits Eddie on the edge of the bed, and he's just latching the door when Eddie speaks for the first time in half an hour.
“Are we gonna fuck?”
Steve trips over his own feet, looking back over at where Eddie was sitting on the bed, head tilted to the side.
“What?” He sputters, and Eddie nods, swaying a bit on his knees.
“Mhmm.” He hums. “The guy told you to fuck me good. Are you gonna?”
He asks it not like he's trying to be seductive, but like he's curious, and Steve draws a deep, steadying breath. He really, truly, cannot do this right now.
“No. No, Munson, we are not going to have sex.”
“Oh.” Eddie looks down, then back up, like he’s genuinely confused. “Why not?”
“Because,” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Because you’re drunk and high and… whatever, and because I'm not-“ the word catches in his throat, like he was choking on it.
Gay. He thinks. I'm not gay. I don’t think about guys like that. I don’t want you. I don’t look at your lips and think anything about it, and I don't get distracted by your eyes, and I don’t wonder if you think my hands are nice because Im not gay, and I don't want you.
He can't bring himself to say it- any of it, and Eddie is still so pretty, looking at him like he doesn’t understand what’s going on and jesus, of course he doesn’t, because he’s still intoxicated out of his mind and almost got taken home by some creep because Steve was too busy thinking with his dick to notice what was really going on.
He takes a deep breath, breathes out, and looks back up at Eddie, who just blinks up at him. “You’re drunk. And high.” He repeats. “Nobody should be doing anything with you right now except sleeping, alright?”
Eddie looks like he’s confused, like this doesn’t make sense to him. He plants his hands on the edge of the bed and leans forwards on his knees, looking up at Steve with big doe eyes. “Are you sure?” He asks. “I give, like, really good head.”
Steve needs to close his eyes- needs to look away, because Eddie is arching his back ever so slightly and holding his lower lip between his teeth and looking at him like he desperately wants to show him that he means it and fuck, Steve is still high. He's still drunk. He’s out of it enough to feel affected, but he’s sober enough to know that this would all be so spectacularly fucked up, because there are strong odds that Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s saying.
“‘Wanted to for so long.” Eddie breathes out, and Steve clenches his fists because oh fuck, he's talking again. “Wanted to blow you so bad for so long, please-“
“Eddie.” Steve cuts him off, gritting his teeth with a concentrated effort. “No. Go to sleep.”
Eddie is deathly quiet for a long moment, and Steve opens his eyes to see him staring at the bed under his hands. He’s immediately concerned that he hurt his feelings- oh god, that he’s crying- when Eddie speaks.
“I think the bed is made of water. Like a water bed.”
Jesus christ.
“Lets just-“ Steve shakes his head, walking over and gently grabbing Eddie by the arm. He helps him lean back against the pillows, where he collapses with a huff. “Here. Just… sleep, okay? Sleep.”
“Okay.” Eddie says agreeably, like he hadn’t just begged to suck his dick.
Steve needs to breathe.
“I'm gonna use the bathroom, okay?” He says, but Eddie is already digging his face into the pillow and waving his hand like some sort of permission slip.
Steve takes it and runs.
He all but slams the bathroom door behind him before starting the shower. It’s cliché as hell, saying he needs a cold shower, but shit if it isn't true. He needs to feel the water hit his skin and wake him up, because he feels like he’s overheating.
He tears his clothes off as quickly as he can before stepping under the spray. The cold stings- biting at his skin, but it doesn’t help. He’s still thinking about it.
“Wanted to blow you so bad for so long-“ it rings clear as a bell in his brain, echoing on repeat. He wonders if it's true. Robin once told him that drunk words are sober thoughts, and that's a dangerous path to go down, because if that's true, then that means Eddie had been thinking about sucking him off. Often. For a while. And if that's true, then Steve might lose his mind thinking about all the other things Eddie wants to do with him.
He remembers what he said earlier in the night, about wanting to be choked and slapped in a car. Did he want Steve to do that? Did he even think about him in that context, or was it just some one-off fantasy? He doesn’t think it is, but he can't be sure. All he really knows with certainty is that Eddie said he’s wanted to blow him for ages, and that he was practically begging for Steve to fuck him.
What’s scary is that Steve wants to.
He can blame it on the pot, or the booze, but at the end of the day, he just really, really wants to. Before he’s even fully aware of it, he’s hard and his hand is wrapped around his dick and he cant stop thinking.
He thinks of Eddie’s face, doe-eyed and soft in the way it rarely is. Thinks about his lips- god, he has great lips. They’re pretty and full and Steve just knows that they’d look beautiful wrapped around his dick. Its an intrusive, startling thought, but now its infected his brain, and he can see it so clearly.
The way that scumbag held his thumb down on Eddie’s tongue, and the way Eddie invited it there. In his mind, Steve replaces it with his dick, resting heavy on his tongue while Eddie gives him that fucking look, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. He imagines grabbing a fistful of his hair, and he imagines pulling him down, fucking his pretty face.
Eddie said he liked being choked, and Steve wonders how far that extends.
Would he want to gag and choke on it? Would he get off on it? Before tonight, Steve wasn’t sure, but shit, he can place a pretty good bet now. He can picture it alarmingly well- Eddie sputtering and coughing around his length while he just fucks it in and out of his mouth. Steve wants to make him cry, he realizes. He wants to watch tears slip down his cheeks and he wants to see Eddie look up at him with glassy eyes, and fuck me, he really wants to slap him across the face.
It’s not ever been a thing he’d thought about before, but he’s sure as shit thinking of it now. Something about Eddie sets him on edge; makes him feel unmoored and wild, like he wants to snap. He imagines that part of it is the fact that Eddie wants it. That he can take it. He’s lithe and thin, but he’s not fragile- he’s hard edges and sarcastic quips and a personality that sets Steve on fire in the best possible way. He wants to tear him apart.
“The guy told you to fuck me good. Are you gonna?”
Steve finishes with Eddie’s name on his lips.