Archive of Our Own

The thing is.

OK, so.

It’s like this.

It’s Steve fucking Harrington.

That’s what it is.

The problem. The solution. The cure. The itch.

The centre of the fucking universe, kind of guy who when he walks into a room, the room stops to stare. Like, everyone in it will swivel to him, all eyes drawn there like magnets.

Eddie Munson wonders how that feels.

He thinks he might vomit if he ever had that much fucking attention anywhere near him.

If he walks into a room, it’s behind some other motherfucker. He can front a little, he can smile wide and goofy, play it up when necessary and then once he’s back in his dorm, he’ll drop the smile and curse the skies, replay every stupid fucking thing he said.

Eddie kinda doubts Steve has ever cursed a single thing he’s ever said. Dude’s just… perfect.

Actually, no. Perfect is a tragic, woefully lacking descriptor. It’s too basic, it’s old, it’s inadequate.

Eddie’s gonna get a whole fucking thesaurus, he’ll make notes, just you watch. There’ll be a word for Steve somewhere. Something old and long and rarely used.

‘Dude, are you all right?’

‘Huh?’ Eddie shakes himself. ‘Oh, right yeah. Sorry. Twenty bucks.’

‘Sure, thanks.’

He makes the deal, gives the guy his weed, pockets the money. Parties are pretty decent for him to make a few bucks on the side. In theory, parties are a good place to meet people too, to make friends, hook up even.

Those things sound… terrifying.

He leans against the back wall, frat house loud and chaotic, and he watches Steve Harrington.

Kissing cheeks, chatting. Who the fuck chats? Like, what is the material basis of that conversation? Is he talking about the weather? The price of milk? Eddie sorely wants to know, the same way he wants to know how a car works - thinks if he could just take it to pieces and organise them neatly, he’d get it.

Steve laughs easily, runs a hand through his hair and Eddie knows he’s staring, he’s one of everyone, after all, but god, he really is just painfully attractive.

Attractive isn’t good enough either.

Watch him get a thesaurus. He’ll do it.

The frat bros are desperately hanging around Steve, they’re touching him like they don’t even realise they’re doing it. Just desperate for him, to be with him or even just near. Steve is collected, confident, fucking godlike with the ease of his countenance. He doesn’t join their bouncy enthusiasm for the party, nor does he go out back with them for slug chugs (don’t ask) and he sticks mostly with the women.

Eddie sighs.

His feelings are ridiculous.

No, really.

It’s like an ant looking up at a skyscraper, being jealous of people on the top floor.

Like bitch, you’re gonna be lucky not to get stepped on and squished today, let alone entertain dark green feelings for something you have zero chance of ever touching.

Eddie’s not out.

He doesn’t have friends.

He doesn’t go out, doesn’t socialise, doesn’t even own anything with a rainbow on it.

He’s also… never really had sex either, but that’s neither here nor there, OK? He’s had way more important shit going on, thank you very much.

And besides, how great can sex be, anyway?

Whatever.

Steve sticks with a group of girls, talking fluently with all of them. The boys keep throwing looks in his direction, a few of them genuinely longing for his company. Eddie wants to scoff, think poorly of them, but he gets it.

Steve Harrington is… Steve fucking Harrington.

He’s effortlessly cool, like he’s the origin of it. Like someone just looked at him once and said, that guy, right there, he’s cool.

He dresses like he set the trend.

His hair… god.

Probably not the time to obsess about his hair.

His eyes, his smile, the way he is with people.

Confident, authentic, bulletproof.

Eddie looks down at himself.

The laces of his boots don’t match. It wasn’t some kooky intentional mishmash. He needed one of the laces to tie a parcel to send to his uncle and then, after weeks of walking around with no fucking lace in one boot, he accepted that he was just never gonna buy a new lace and so took one from an old Reebok, used that instead.

His hair is tied back with a rubber band.

He’s hiding out in a shady little corner and the tee he’s wearing has seen better days.

Oh. Plus there’s like… something on it.

What the fuck even is that? It’s like ketchup? No, please. He’ll die. He’ll fade away if he came out with ketchup on his fucking clothes, for god’s sake. Not like it even matters, but—

‘Hi.’

Eddie flinches hard, tries to back up but he’s already pressed into the wall so he just sort of bangs his head.

‘Ow, hi, hello, um, sorry.’

It’s Steve.

Steve Harrington is standing in front of him.

Eddie reverts back to a single celled organism.

‘Sorry for what?’

‘Sorry?’

Steve blinks, gives a little smile. ‘My bad, start again?’

‘S-sorry?’

Eddie would actually rather be a single celled organism.

‘Hi, I’m Steve Harrington.’

Steve Harrington offers his hand.

It looks soft, strong. He’s got a few rings on.

Oh god, he’s offering to shake fucking hands.

Eddie’s hands are… they’re probably all sweaty and gross and might have ketchup on them, who even knows anymore?

But there are apparently limits to which his own body will tolerate his bullshit, because he extends his hand and lets Steve clasp it with his own. Weird fucking custom Eddie’s never understood, but that doesn’t even matter because he’s touching Steve now.

They’re touching.

It’s simultaneously the worst and best moment of his life. Like a fire tornado in his chest, like an error message behind his eyes.

‘I didn’t catch your name?’ Steve prompts, both polite and somehow very kind because Eddie’s sort of gawking a little.

‘Nghm, sorry.’

Steve’s smile makes his eyes light up.

Eddie didn’t know that happened outside of trashy romance books.

Not that he’s read any. Ever.

And those eyes are warm brown close up, they’re pretty and cut though with all shades of earthy goodness. They glitter and probably cure fucking cancer.

‘Great to meet you, Sorry.’

Oh no.

This is so much worse than never having spoken to him at all. Eddie wishes he was an ant under a boot.

‘E-Eddie. My name’s Eddie. Munson.’

‘Ah, there we go,’ Steve says, still holding Eddie’s hand. ‘Sorry for sneaking up on you there.’

Eddie bites his lips into his mouth, nodding.

‘Mmhm.’

Doesn’t trust himself.

‘You don’t go here, right?’ Steve asks, releases Eddie’s hand but not before he sort of cradles it with both of his own and no fucker has ever cradled Eddie’s hand, his anything.

‘Mm.’

‘Yeah, me neither. My step sister goes here, though, so I swing by sometimes.’

Oh, you have a step sister? I never knew that, Steve, please, will you tell me a little about yourself?

He wishes.

‘Hm.’

Where’s the earth to swallow him whole when he needs it?

‘Yeah, she’s awesome. I don’t know if you know her, Robin Buckley?’ Steve says, as if Eddie had contributed to the conversation at all and then gestures over his shoulder towards the girl he came in with. Shoulder bob, very uncool (cool) Pokemon jacket and what looks like dungarees underneath. She’s cackling wildly at whatever the other girls are saying. ‘She’s the best.’

Intelligently, Eddie says, ‘Yeah,’ with absolutely no follow up.

‘You know anyone here?’ Steve asks, seems genuinely interested which… how the fuck does he do that?

‘Um.’

‘Yeah, it’s not the best crowd, present company and Robbie excluded,’ Steve says in a warm whisper, drops a little wink at the end.

Eddie’s cheeks decide that this - this - is the perfect moment to redirect all the blood in his body to his fucking face.

Greaaaat.

‘I only come to keep Robbie safe, throw my weight around a little,’ he chuckles, glancing toward the gaggle of Not Staring frat bros who are glaring at Eddie. ‘You know how it is.’

‘Oh. Yeah. I know. Things.’

Steve’s smile is bright and happy. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘A… like a…’

‘C’mon, I can make something nice. Rare.’

‘O-OK, sure.’

They walk right past the drinks table, which is a great call because there’s already a football in the punch and discarded cigarettes worryingly close to the “snacks”.

It’s crowded as they head for the kitchen and Steve turns back, reaches for Eddie’s hand and delicately links their fingers. ‘Don’t wanna lose you.’

Eddie’s dreaming.

He’s dead.

He’s in someone else’s body.

Has to be.

Steve guides him into the kitchen, greets a few people along the way. ‘This is Eddie,’ he says more than once and Eddie manages to nod, that’s where his skill level is topped out.

But inside the kitchen, there’s only a few people. It’s easier to breathe.

And the drink Steve makes is fucking great.

Typical.

‘What is this?’

‘Negroni.’

Eddie swallows quickly, he’s seen an opportunity. ‘Sbagliato!’

Steve’s brows lift delicately, expression no less friendly. ‘Sorry?’

Eddie nods expectantly. ‘With Prosecco in it?’

‘Do you want that? I’m sure I can find some.’

Oh no.

No.

He tries to reign himself in.

‘Ah it’s. It’s that. You know.’ He laughs. ‘Stupid.’

‘No, not at all. Is that a drink you like? Would you show me?’

Fucking god.

‘Uh,’ Eddie says slowly, high key determined to get this under control right fucking now. He’s not this much of a loser.

He’s not.

Fuck you.

‘Maybe next time,’ Eddie counters with what he hopes is a roguish grin. ‘I doubt a place like this has Prosecco.’

‘Y’know, sbagliato means wrong, or mistake in Italian, so I thought you were telling me I made the wrong drink,’ Steve explains, casually leaning back against the countertop, sipping his drink.

Eddie wonders what it feels like to evaporate.

‘Oh. Shit, I’m sorry.’

‘Why? It was cute.’

Cute.

Warning, warning.

Eddie hides the sound he makes in his drink.

‘So,’ Steve says brightly, with no degree of insincerity. ‘What brings you here?’

‘Just… thought I’d come along.’

‘Yeah? You know anyone?’

‘Not really.’

‘There’s this meteor shower tonight, a really rare one.’

‘Well, that’s sounds… awesome,’ Eddie says, absolutely did not know that.

‘You deal, I think?’

‘S-sometimes.’

‘That’s cool.’ Steve bites his bottom lip. ‘You wouldn’t sell to my baby sister, right?’

‘Oh.’ Eddie blinks, instantly retracing every step he’s ever made in his whole life to uncover whether or not he sold very mild weed to Robin Buckley. ‘Oh, no, I—I don’t think I ever have. Should I not… I mean, should I—’

Steve’s smile is gut-wrenchingly gorgeous. ‘Nah, I’m just messing with you. She’s a little stoner, I’d be astonished if you haven’t.’

‘Ah, OK. That’s cool.’

‘Do you have, like, a quota to meet each night?’

‘Uh, I don’t…’ Eddie tries to remember big, five letter words like quota and what they mean. ‘Not really, no. I just see where it goes, hang around and sell what I can.’

‘So,’ Steve says slowly, looking up at Eddie through lowered lashes. God. ‘If I bought all your merchandise, right now, you’d be free for the rest of the night?’

‘That’s…um. Sorry?’

‘Unless that’s uncool? I don’t wanna presume. Would just love to hang out with you.’

‘With…’ Eddie touches his chest. ‘Me?’

Steve smiles again, like he’s watching a kitten resisting sleep. ‘Yeah, you, Eddie Munson. What do you think? Wanna ditch and hang out with me?’

‘I—what about your sister?’

‘I’ll just give her all the weed I bought from you. Plus, she’d kick my ass if she ever heard me talking shit about looking after her. She’s basically superhuman.’

Eddie shakes himself, blames the Negroni.

‘You don’t have to, like, buy all my shit. No one here’s really queuing out the door for it anyway.’ Then he takes a breath, decides to be brave. He can always kill himself later. ‘We can hang out without you closing me like a store from Pretty Woman.’

Steve throws his head back and laughs.

Oh god, no, why?

It’s the most gorgeous fucking thing Eddie’s ever heard, he’s just… horribly infatuated. No laugh is ever gonna top it.

‘Oh my god, I knew you were funny, totally knew it.’ Steve sobers, sighs happily. ‘So, you wanna come on an adventure with me?’

‘I do.’ Oh, great. ‘… want that, for sure, my guy. Lead the way.’

Suicide is probably imminent anyway.

‘Perfect, lemme just introduce you to Robin first?’

‘Oh, right, yeah.’

No one’s ever wanted to introduce Eddie.

Steve does that thing again where he holds Eddie’s hand through the crowd, stopping occasionally to say hi to people who squeal with delight when they catch sight of him.

‘This is Eddie Munson,’ he says more than once and the girls look at Eddie in a way he immediately understands. This look of who the fuck and how.

He’s right there with them.

When they reach Robin, she’s making out with another girl.

‘Robbie,’ Steve says, tapping her shoulder. ‘Hey!’

Robin breaks the kiss, turns and beams.

‘You’re not dead!’

‘It’s a miracle. Who’s your friend?’

‘We’re astral twins,’ the other girl informs him sagely.

‘Extremely cool,’ Steve says, and it’s all so easy, so sweet and yet genuine. Eddie wonders if maybe he’s a very, very convincing psychopath. No one is this nice. ‘I’ve never met mine.’

‘Well,’ Robin sighs, draping one arm around the girl in question. ‘We’re not technically astral twins, but like, both born on a Thursday.’

‘Both have far to go,’ Steve agrees, nodding. ‘Amazing, I love it.’

‘Actually, I was born on a Tuesday,’ the girl tells Robin, who dissolves into giggles before she sobers and looks at Eddie. ‘Who’s your friend?’

Steve sort of shines. ‘This is Eddie Munson.’

Robin offers her hand, they’re those kind of people, and she squints at him. ‘Sag sun, Taurus rising, Scorpio moon.’

‘Robbie,’ Steve chides with soft adoration.

‘OK, no, sorry, I see it. Sag rising, Cancer Sun, but that Scorpio moon is right there, I stand by it.’

‘Is that—is that like my chart? I don’t know mine, I’m sorry,’ he tells her.

Robin smiles. ‘That’s OK, I’m never wrong.’

‘I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving.’

‘’Kay, I’ll call you later?’

Steve kisses her cheek. ‘I’ll be around.’

As if sensing the departure of their untouchable god, the frat bros come over and surround Steve immediately.

‘Nah, you’re not leaving, right? C’mon, body shots! Body shots, man!’ one painfully eager guy yells just slightly too loud.

‘Ah, maybe next time,’ Steve says, makes the gracious sorry but not enough to say it gesture with his hands. ‘If you get some Prosecco in.’

Mr I-Wish-I Knew-Why-I-Masturbate-Thinking-of-Steve Harrington wrinkles his nose, asks his friends what the fuck Prosecco is and Steve takes Eddie by the hand, gracefully guides them out of the house.

*

‘Where’s your car?’ Eddie asks, looking around.

‘Oh, we’re not driving,’ Steve says, steps onto the grass and looks up. It’s a gorgeous summer night. Warm, clear, kinda exciting.

Kind of fucking terrifying.

‘Cause, y’know.

Steve Harrington.

‘We’re not?’

‘Adventure time,’ Steve says to the skies, closes his eyes and breathes deep. When he looks back, he’s as chill as ever, yet engaged, interested, present. ‘But only if you want to.’

‘What kind of adventure?’

‘Depends. Do you like water?’

*

Which is how Eddie finds himself stripping off down to his boxers beneath the pale moonlight, about to go swimming in a fucking lake with Steve, who’s already swimming way out.

He leaves his phone and clothes in a pile close to Steve’s, tries to get the fucking Jaws theme out of his head (the ocean’s not connected to lakes, that’s important) and then he slowly starts to walk himself into the frankly freezing waters.

‘Oh god, fuck, Jesus H Christ, that’s… chilly.’

Steve is backstroking beneath the moon, all covered in silvery water and natural beauty, he’s like a fucking mermaid. Eddie sacks up, pushes into a dive when he’s at waist height and goes under.

It’s pitch black, freezing.

Locks his lungs and shorts out his brain but then… then it levels out.

He surfaces, wiping his eyes.

‘Holy shit.’

‘There you are,’ Steve says, swimming over to him. ‘You’re sure this is OK?’

‘Yeah, this is cool,’ he gasps, treading to stay afloat. They’re close enough to touch. Eddie thinks if this is a dream, it’ll be his villain origin story. ‘So.’ He laughs nervously. ‘You bring all the boys here?’

Steve’s gaze softens, but never once loses that… that fucking quality about him. Ethereal, earthly, angelic, strong, sweet. Fucking hell.

‘Just you, amoruccio.’ It’s almost teasing. Steve shrugs, looks around. ‘I like it here.’

Eddie snorts slightly. ‘You come here to think, yeah?’

Steve sighs, dips backwards and floats. ‘When it all gets too loud, y’know?’ he plays along, grinning widely.

Eddie rolls his eyes, wistfully says, ‘Sometimes life is loud.’

Steve starts laughing again, has to go vertical because he almost chokes and then seems to sort of drown briefly because he’s laughing so hard and Eddie really doesn’t want him to drown, thanks ever so fucking much, so he gets him by the shoulders, holds him steady.

‘Oh my god, I knew you’d be funny.’

‘I’ll be here all week. Quit laughing, you’re gonna drown, I swear to god.’

‘OK, OK, sorry. I got it, sorry.’

He’s still laughing softly, but it’s gentle now.

Eddie’s still holding him.

They’re… oh.

They’re very close now.

And the water is cold.

But Steve’s warm. His body, his skin, the muscle beneath Eddie’s hands.

His breath as it plays over Eddie’s lips.

‘No drowning,’ Steve promises.

‘That’s good,’ Eddie utters, voice gone hoarse. His heart’s beating so hard it must be making its own ripples. His head is spinning and when Steve slowly reaches down to wrap one arm around Eddie in turn, he makes a tiny noise that he’ll deny to his dying day.

‘Here, I’ve got you.’

I can swim, he should say. Is this a hookup? he should ask. Did you mistake me for someone else? he’s terrified to know the answer to.

‘Th-thanks.’

‘You’re welcome. Is this OK?’

‘Yeah, yeah, it’s great.’

‘You’re sure? I don’t wanna overstep.’

Oh god, it is a hookup, Steve’s just possessed by the ghost of a lonely Gregorian poet or whatever.

‘No, this is…’ Eddie swallows, wants. ‘Good.’

Christ, maybe he should read the thesaurus for himself.

‘You ready?’

‘Ready? For what?’

Steve looks up.

Eddie follows his gaze.

And at first, he sees nothing.

Just the regular, gorgeous sky, moon in the far corner making the darkness run milky around the edge.

But then Eddie sees this little flash of light.

A streak of something bright.

Then another.

Then another.

He smiles wide, can’t quite believe it.

‘Oh my god!’

‘Told you, super rare,’ Steve says, sounds smug.

And like…

OK, so Steve didn’t bring him here to hookup maybe. He’s holding Eddie’s waist so he can look up without losing balance in the water.

But it’s still one of the most gorgeous moments of Eddie’s whole fucking life.

He’ll remember it forever.

*

They walk back to the frat house together.

It’s warm enough that walking wet with only pants on isn’t that bad. Eddie’s not even cold, that’s not the issue.

The issue is Steve fucking Harrington walking pretty much naked and dripping wet out in public.

He’s…

Eddie can’t stop staring.

He’s trying.

Yes he is, fuck you.

‘I’ve got towels here,’ Steve offers, opens the trunk of his car and pulls out a bag.

‘Force of habit?’

‘I’m a lifeguard.’

‘Oh. Oh wow. That’s… really cool.’

Steve pat dries his face and shrugs. ‘I’m a good swimmer.’

Eddie dries his hair, squeezing the water out.

‘Do you wanna change in the back of the car?’ Steve offers, wrapping the towel around his waist. Eddie watches, has this awful fucking feeling he’s about to…

Yup.

There go the pants.

Around his ankles.

Eddie cuts his gaze away. ‘Sounds good, thanks.’

*

Dry(ish) and dressed, he emerges from the car and finds Steve checking his messages.

‘Hey, all good?’

Steve looks over, brightens visibly. ‘Just checkin’ in with Robbie. She’s staying over with her Astral Twin.’

‘Tuesday’s child, right?’

Steve rolls his eyes. ‘Full of grace.’ He pockets the phone. He’s wearing a different fucking shirt now. It’s dark grey silk, half open to his chest. ‘What day were you born?’

Eddie grimaces. ‘I don’t wanna say.’

Steve chuckles warmly, sighs. ‘Lemme guess.’ He bites his lip, looks Eddie up and down. ‘Bonny, blithe, good and gay.’

‘Ugh, you got me,’ Eddie complains, but inside, his heart is doing stupid fucking shit and it needs to chill. ‘What about you?’

Steve’s still letting his gaze drag leisurely over Eddie’s form. ‘Same.’

Eddie snorts. ‘Shocker.’

‘So, what’s your feel for the night so far?’

So far, oh god.

‘Um, I mean. It’s… early,’ Eddie says, would-be casual. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think,’ Steve says, lifting those eyes to meet Eddie’s own. ‘There’s this amazing little place downtown with the best milkshakes you’ve ever had.’

‘Oh, really? Is it some hidden secret? Super rare?’

*

They’re drinking McDonald’s shakes and walking around together. Talking, laughing.

Well, Steve is doing most of the talking and the laughing, because apparently, Eddie’s funny.

Steve asks about Eddie.

Thoughtful stuff, he asks things that no one’s ever asked Eddie in his whole life and he finds himself talking about moments, about his past, about the little things he likes and the big things he doesn’t.

And Eddie’s getting better at looking at Steve after, saying, ‘And you?’

Then Steve will answer with an experience of his own. He’ll tell Eddie some small piece of his life and Eddie will just stare, confounded because this guy… this man is just so fucking special.

They take the long way through town to get back to the frat house. They sort of meander here and there, Steve excitedly looking up at the sky sometimes whenever a few extra little streaks brighten the black, but sometimes Eddie doesn’t even look, he just watches Steve, thinks he’s the greater sight to behold.

By the time they arrive at the car, Steve’s biting his lip. ‘Eddie,’ he says.

Eddie almost trips on nothing. ‘Y-yeah?’

‘I don’t want to be too forward or,’ Steve shrugs with exquisite grace, but there’s a tiny hint of something vulnerable there for the first time. ‘Make anything awkward.’

‘Oh god,’ Eddie utters faintly. He’s gonna… he’s gonna tell Eddie that he caught him staring, he’s gonna tell him to back off, that they’re just… not friends, but like definitely not more than friends. Steve’s about to pre-break his heart and that’s absolutely for the best, because honestly, it’s only gonna get worse the longer it goes on, but it’ll still—

‘Would you like my number?’

Eddie’s got an apology primed and ready, he really has. He’s about to be Mr Sorry all over again, from a far greater height because this is what happens when a fucking ant crawls up to the penthouse - it gets blown the fuck away.

But then he hears what Steve said.

‘I—what?’

‘Do you maybe want to take my number?’

‘Your… number?’

‘My phone number.’

‘Oh. Oh. To. For more swimming?’

No. Why?

Why ?

Steve smile-laughs, it’s soft and endearing and he was absolutely not made for this world, just far too lovely. ‘I’d love more swimming. Can even take you to the beach if you like. I’ll protect you from sharks and everything, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s whatever you want, if you want it.’

Eddie shakes himself again. He’s still holding the near empty drink container, staring like a fucking moron.

‘Steve,’ he says for the first time, actually hits a pretty level tone. ‘Is this like… a friendship number? Because that… that would be amazing too, I just want to be clear.’

‘It can be a friendship number if that’s what you want. But I meant,’ Steve says, eyes moving between Eddie’s, drinking him in. ‘Like to take you out, proper.’

‘On a date?’

‘We don’t have to call it that.’

‘I’ve n—’ whoaaa, shut the fuck up there, buddy. ‘Not had a lot of experience with dates.’

‘Then just hanging out, whatever you like.’

Eddie closes his eyes. ‘No, sorry man, I’m gonna need it so clear. I’m… I know you’re like the coolest person alive and it works for you, but I just—I need to be completely sure I’m not making this up in my head and that you’re really—’

Steve kisses him.

It’s light, sweet.

His lips are soft and closed.

Eddie feels like someone jump-started his fucking nervous system. He flinches but actually styles it out for once and this time, he’s not gonna fuck up.

He kisses Steve back.

Lifts one hand, touches his face and moves in just a little closer.

Steve makes this sound like something hurts and he wouldn’t mind letting it hurt again and Eddie’s losing his fucking mind, dares to part his lips and lick just a little over the crease of Steve’s gorgeous fucking mouth.

The kiss deepens, stays slow, intimate.

And then Eddie pulls away, has to breathe or he’ll faint, but Steve doesn’t let him go far, arm around his back, palm pressed over his chest.

‘I wanted to do that all night,’ he confesses, rubs his nose against Eddie’s.

‘God, you should have.’

‘Didn’t—’ Steve swallows, eyelashes fluttering. ‘You seemed shy, I didn’t wanna rush anything.’

Eddie kisses him, wet lips and a hint of tongue and oh fucking god he wants more, he needs more. Steve tastes like strawberry milkshakes and his spit is addictive and Eddie wants to go back to the lake, with the stars, wants to go forward, stay here in this moment forever, just so long as he’s with Steve.

‘I—I never thought you’d— with me.’

Steve frowns a little, bends to pick Eddie up under the thighs and sit him on the hood of his car. In shadows of a nearby tree, they’re not in plain sight of anyone leaving the house, but they’re hardly invisible either.

Eddie doesn’t really care.

He settles himself on the hood and when Steve takes hold of his face, he meets him halfway for the kiss this time.

It’s warm, it’s passionate, it’s… it’s fucking everything. God, fuck, he wants inside, he wants Steve inside. Wants skin to skin and sticky wet come and sex, oh god, he wants sex with Steve Harrington, fuck.

He doesn’t even realise he’s got his legs wrapped around Steve’s waist until he’s rolling his hips, until he thinks he’s about ten seconds from coming in his jeans.

‘Ngh, sorry, sorry,’ he says in a breathless tumble, breaking the kiss. He’s got his fingers in Steve’s hair. ‘S-should stop or I’m gonna…’

Steve’s eyes widen and Eddie blushes.

‘Holy shit, really?’

‘Um,’ he utters, gulping, throat dry. ‘Yeah, sorry.’

‘Sorry? For what, oh my god, OK.’ Steve presses his forehead to Eddie’s, eyes closed. ‘This is like… not necessary, no obligation, but do you wanna come back to my—?’

*

Steve’s bed is soft and his house is small and Eddie thinks he saw a lot of plants in the precious few seconds he could stop kissing Steve long enough to look around before his back hit the mattress and they both started stripping.

Steve’s got his jeans low enough for Eddie to stare at the thatch of brown curls, half closed zipper just obscuring what he thinks is gonna be a decent sized cock and his shirt is long gone and he’s pulling Eddie’s belt out, popping the buttons free and Eddie…

Eddie needs to…

‘I’ve never done this before.’

Steve looks up, smiles and bends for another kiss. ‘Like this? You wanna top? Bottom? Whatever you like.’

‘N-no, I mean I’ve never done it. Sex. It’s never… been done. By me.’ Christ. ‘I’ve never had sex.’

Steve groans, actually drops his head into the curve of Eddie’s neck. ‘You can’t say shit like that to me.’

Eddie’s cautiously assessing whether or not it’s a bad reaction. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m never gonna let you go.’

‘What?’

Steve kisses him, hard and deep. ‘Don’t ever really want you to leave, mmkay? You live here now.’

Eddie laughs into the kiss, wiggles his jeans down a little, though it’s hard with Steve on top of him. ‘Oh, really?’

‘Uh huh, you’ll like it.’

Steve grinds his cock against Eddie’s just fucking right and it drags ribbons of pleasure through his blood, his bones, his fucking soul, god almighty.

‘I— I don’t doubt it.’

‘Can I be your first? Let me make it so, so good for you?’ Steve begs, voice crackly and yet satin smooth. ‘Wanna make you come, Eddie, wanna watch you come undone on my cock, please.’

‘Jesus,’ Eddie bites out. ‘You keep talking like that and I’m gonna—’

‘Want you to, wanna make you come so many times, so special, oh my god.’

Eddie clutches him tight, kissing wherever he can as pleasure thickens, spiralling higher and higher and he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he—

‘Come for me, that’s it,’ Steve whispers into his mouth. ‘Such a good boy.’

Eddie whines, back arching as he comes in thick, wet spurts between their bodies, jeans around his ankles, cock throbbing, pleasure crashing into him like waves pounding rocks.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, look at you, god, you’re so beautiful, so fucking hot, wanna make you come till you can’t take it anymore and then, just once more,’ Steve pants, still fucking up against Eddie, still kissing him. ‘Know my boy can take it, know you can.’

The orgasm eases, sinks into his bones, afterglow unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his whole fucking life.

And Steve slows, then stops altogether, but he never stops kissing him, even when it gentles.

‘I have to tell you something,’ he whispers to Eddie who is… blissfully boneless, just kinda floating.

‘Hm, sure.’

‘I’m really fucking weird.’

Eddie blinks, then frowns, then laughs. ‘You are?’

Steve kisses down his throat, sucks little welts into the soft skin, like he’s making a map. ‘Yeah, I know everyone thinks I’m cool, but like. I’m a freak.’

Eddie huffs, blinks slow. Feels almost high.

‘You’ll have to prove it, Harrington.’

Steve kisses him again. ‘Oh, I will.’

‘Gimme—mmm—examples.’

‘I collect rocks.’

‘Rocks are cool.’

‘I dip my fries in my milkshake.’

‘I can get past that.’

‘I really don’t want you to leave.’

Eddie laughs, strokes Steve’s hair. ‘You’re clingy, huh?’

‘No, never,’ he says, sounds like he means it too. ‘Just… really don’t want to not see you after this. Like, even for a second.’

And it sounds like it hurts to admit it, almost.

Like it’s new, like it’s…

Eddie swallows.

Sort of gets it.

Completely fucking gets it.

‘I uh,’ he says, reaching down to stroke over Steve’s ass cheeks, god, they’re smooth. ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing more of you, Harrington.’

He can feel Steve smile against his mouth.

‘I’m good company, you won’t be bored.’

Eddie snorts. ‘Well thank god, because you’ve been dull as fuck so far.’

Steve makes a rumbly little noise of false sorrow, reaching down to rub his fingers through the slick mess Eddie made when he came and then leans back.

‘I was trying to be cool,’ Steve pouts, eyes glinting, half straddling Eddie and his cock… oh yeah, fucking Christ, wow. Jesus.

Eddie makes an incredible effort to lift his gaze from Steve’s swollen, uncut cock, the size of it. ‘I mean… bravo.’

Steve giggles. ‘That’s French, but I’ll let you off.’

‘Are we… I mean, can we…’ Eddie swallows, takes a breath. ‘Want you to fuck me.’

Steve is lazily jacking himself, running one hand down Eddie’s chest, dragging wet trails of his own come. ‘Yeah, you want that, baby?’

Baby, oh god, he’s moving in. Fucking hell.

‘Want that, please.’

‘Gonna take care of you,’ Steve promises, wet fingers trailing lower and lower, playing with the sensitive head of Eddie’s half hard cock. ‘Gonna make you feel so good.’

‘Jesus, yeah, want it.’

And when Steve’s buried all the way in him, Eddie can’t get a breath to more than halfway fill his lungs, he is already full, he’s… he’s so full.

And he’s got someone inside him, and it’s Steve Harrington. Steve’s fucking him, slow and deep and so, so good, it’s like heaven melting in his bones, it’s ultraviolet making music, it’s fucking—

Steve won’t stop kissing him and telling him how fucking beautiful he is, how good he feels, how perfect, how Steve wants Eddie to fuck him next, later, soon. He sucks a bruise into Eddie’s neck, shifts the angle and starts grinding, just staying deep but making circles with his hips and pressing in and rotating and nudging and…

It’s obscene.

It’s life changing.

It’s got tears running down Eddie’s temples into his hair and Steve chases them with his lips, whispering about how he wanted to kiss Eddie in the lake under the stars, at that party, in the kitchen, the first second he saw him.

‘Gonna—fuck—want you to come with me, Eddie,’ Steve pants against Eddie’s mouth. ‘Wanna make you come again, sweetheart, want you all tight around me when I come.’

Eddie’s reasonably non-verbal at this point, just making little uh uh uh sounds, moaning and gasping, but fuck, yeah he wants that too. Wants to come with Steve inside him.

‘Want it,’ he says, drags their mouths together in a harsh, loving clash that makes a little sting and then a spill and he should apologise, should say sorry for bleeding but Steve just growls, tongue dragging over the little nick, messy and greedy, he’s like an animal. ‘Make me come, Stevie.’

Steve reaches between their bodies to rub Eddie’s cock, get his hand around it and make friction, thumb playing with the head every few strokes.

‘I—shit, I’m sorry,’ Steve moans and Eddie’s like what, why because it’s fine, he’s wearing a condom, it’s all— ‘Oh my god, I fucking love you!’

Eddie’s orgasm blindsides him, comes out of fucking nowhere, nought to ninety in less than ten, just knocks the breath clean from his lungs and it’s good that Steve is noisy as fuck when he comes because Eddie thinks he might be screaming a little bit, just a tad.

But god…

Fuck…

Fuck.

And they’re kissing still.

Kissing throughout, kissing even when they’re still, breathless and weak and all pleasure-wrecked.

Kissing when Steve carefully pulls out, rolls off, but can’t go far because that would mean not kissing.

They turn on their sides, all tangled up.

Hands in hair and thighs locked, skin wet with sweat and Eddie’s come, spit and blood around their mouths which… probably negates a lot of the reasons Steve wore a condom, but he just cannot care.

Eddie doesn’t care about anything except Steve.

And kissing.

‘Are you OK?’ Steve asks in between kisses, petting his face, his shoulders, stroking his sides.

‘Mmkay,’ Eddie manages and then sighs.

They nuzzle noses, staring.

‘You’re weird weird,’ he tells Steve, little smile in it. ‘You said you love me.’

Steve hides his face and laughs. ‘Stop.’

‘It’s OK,’ Eddie tells him, stroking his hair back. ‘It suits you.’

‘I can’t help it,’ Steve says when he comes out, like he just can’t not kiss Eddie for more than three seconds. ‘It’s my Scorpio moon.’

They’re laughing while they kiss.

Bodies pressed, hearts beating fast.

‘I’m literally never letting you leave.’

Eddie whispers, ‘What happened to not rushing things?’

‘I just…’ Steve strokes his face, eyes moving between Eddie’s, and it’s a look of pure, lovely wonder. No one ever looked at Eddie like that before. ‘I missed you. And I never saw you till tonight. Where were you?’

The lump in Eddie’s throat is unexpected, it’s thick and heavy, makes his eyes sting and feelings bleed, feelings he can’t quantify.

‘I’m here now,’ he says.

And he means it, too.

Even if this turns out to be nothing more than heat of the moment Negroni fuelled madness. He’ll remember this night all his life.

He’ll remember Steve always.

But he has a feeling it’s not gonna go like that.

He’s just got this feeling.

‘Yeah y’are,’ Steve says, kisses him again.

Slower, softer.

Blood is sticky, it’s like honey.

Eddie can’t believe he lost his virginity with Steve fucking Harrington.

He can’t believe any of this.

Kind of trusts it, though, which is weird.

He trusts weird even more.

‘I can stay over?’

Steve’s eyes are closed, they’re tangled up like happy little squids. ‘You’re never leaving, Eds.’

Eddie snorts, kisses his face and lets himself relax in the embrace. Steve is cuddly, he’s clingy and Eddie didn’t think he’d want that so much, but he does.

‘I’ll stay for breakfast, maybe.’

Steve smiles, whispers, ‘Definitely.’

‘You seem like you’re high maintenance.’

‘Sky high, amoruccio.’

Eddie strokes his back.

‘What’s that mean?’

But Steve is already asleep.

And Eddie’s tired too.

He can find out tomorrow, ask him over breakfast, if he hasn’t reverted back to being so shy he can’t speak.

He thinks he’ll be OK.

He thinks a lot of things as he smiles into Steve’s skin and falls asleep with the light of the moon outside on his face, excited to wake.

“Moon Song”

You asked to walk me home
But I had to carry you
And you pushed me in
And now my feet can't touch the bottom of you
You couldn't have, you couldn't have
Stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody
Who loves you more
So I will wait for the next time you want me
Like a dog with a bird at your door

  - Phoebe Bridgers