Archive of Our Own

Steve is eyeball deep in theoretical frameworks and outlining one of his looming end of semester papers when Dustin calls. Steve glares at his blocky phone screen for a few seconds and strongly considers not answering, but he caves after the fifth ring because he always caves. It’s literally etched into his DNA at this point. He wishes he’d never gotten a cell phone to give these damned kids access to him at all times.

“Henderson, I told you radio silence unless it’s an emergen—“

“I just got home from the movies!” Dustin exclaims breathlessly.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Definitely not an emergency, you little shit. I’ve gotta go finish writing my paper now.”

“Wait, Steve, there was a trailer!” Dustin’s voice is a screech now, high and vibrating with excitement. Steve hasn’t heard that pitch in quite a while. “Steve, the trailer for Lord of the Rings! The Fellowship! I saw it!”

Steve can’t help but laugh, all of the annoyance melting away. He knows Dustin’s been waiting for this ever since word of a movie being made reached his ears. Steve’s never read the books, but he knows enough about them from Dustin’s ramblings over the years to know what he’s talking about, at least. Nerd by Osmosis, he likes to call it. Dustin doesn’t think the joke is funny or scientifically accurate, but thankfully Steve doesn’t give a shit about either of those things.

“Did it pass your nerd test?” Steve asks, turning away from his computer so he can lean back in his chair and stretch his cramped legs out. His back is killing him, too. He’s getting too old to sit in one position for three hours. He wonders, not for the first time today, why he decided to go to grad school in his thirties.

“Dude, it looks so fucking cool. The CGI and practical effects are gonna be sick and the casting looks perfect. You’ll see it with me, right? When it comes out next year?”

Is Steve actually interested? No. Does he even consider telling Dustin he won’t see it with him? Also no. “Sure. When’s it out?”

“Not until December,” Dustin whines, dragging the syllables out.

Even pushing thirty, the kid’s still impatient as all hell. It would be annoying if Dustin wasn’t so endearing. “Thankfully we have a year and a half to plan. Everyone will probably be visiting Hawkins since it’ll be the holidays. I wonder if that shitty theater they built is showing recent releases yet.”

“Well, Steve,” Dustin says casually in that I’m about to sell you something voice. “I’m so glad you brought that up because I was thinking that instead of a week in boring old Hawkins, we could spend a part of the holiday in Chicago with you.”

Steve snorts. “Let’s just get through this year, all right? Trying to make plans a year and a half ahead, Jesus Christ.”

“This is an event that requires planning, Steve!”

And off he goes. Dustin’s got a whole itinerary outlined that includes visiting the Christkindlmarket, going window shopping downtown since the stores put together fun displays, and seeing the giant Christmas tree in the middle of Daley Plaza. Steve lets him ramble a bit, reminds him that the Christmas trip he’s talking about is still a year and a half away. They bicker a bit more before Steve sighs.

“I hate to cut you off, man, but I do really need to go unless you’re going to write this client assessment for me.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Put this on your calendar, though.”

“I will,” he promises before he hangs up.

Steve doesn’t, not because he doesn’t want to, but because his life is packed with so much stuff that something that far in the future doesn’t even have a chance of grabbing a foothold in his overtaxed brain. He’s too busy working, writing papers, and reading hundreds of pages each week even though it makes him want to tear his hair out. He’s never been a big reader, even more so after a few too many concussions, and it’s the hardest part of grad school by far.

Then he’s too busy moving into a larger apartment because Robin moved back to Chicago after a two year stint in Boston, and in their new place they have a lot of plants and a guest bedroom and an honest-to-god dining room. Having Robin back feels like he can breathe again. He has friends, colleagues, a lot of people in his orbit, but there’s never been anyone else like Robin.

They even get a cat, a fluffy, black, mostly friendly thing named One-Eyed Jack because… well, he’s only got one eye. He likes to lounge on the back of the couch behind Steve’s head, tail draped over his shoulder, and tries to steal his food.

And then Steve’s too busy studying harder than he’s ever studied before and passing his clinical exams and officially becoming a licensed social worker after years of school and mental torture. After that, he’s too busy getting a job, and supporting Robin through a pretty nasty breakup, and dating here and there even though nothing ever goes anywhere.

In fact, he forgets about it until Thanksgiving in 2001 when Dustin calls him while he’s checking on the turkey currently roasting in his oven.

“Happy Thanksgiving, asshole!” Dustin says cheerfully and then gives a muffled shout — Steve assumes Claudia whacked him in the head. “I mean, happy Thanksgiving, Steve. I’m thankful for you and mom say she wishes you’d have come home for the holiday.”

“Tell your mom Happy Thanksgiving and that I still love her.”

There’s some mumbling away from the speaker, then Dustin replies, “She says she’s still mad, unless you plan to visit for Christmas.”

“Why wouldn’t I visit for Christmas?” Steve asks.

“Are you gonna wanna drive to Hawkins after hosting us? I figured we’d probably just do Christmas with you. I guess we could invite my mom if she wanted to come to the cit—”

Steve’s brain takes a few seconds to catch up. “Wait, what are you talking about, man?”

“Dude,” Dustin groans. “Lord of the Rings, remember? We’re coming to Chicago next month.”

“Uh,” Steve says, eloquently.

Dustin sounds annoyed in that fond way of his. “I knew you’d forget. Yeah, dude. Chicago Christmas. We totally talked about it.”

Steve just stares blankly at the wall for a few moments, trying to dig through his memory. It’s there, barely corporeal at this point, but he sighs. “Fuck, yeah. That was forever ago, Dustin. I forgot about it and you never reminded me. Who is we again?”

“Lucas and Max can’t make it,” Dustin says, “because they’re visiting Erica since she’s pregoo and can’t fly, but Mike, Will, El, and Eddie are in. You’ve got a guest bedroom and a pull out, right? We could probably all fit in your apartment.”

Steve’s stomach drops somewhere in the vicinity of his knees.

He can’t really say he hasn’t thought about Eddie Munson. He thinks about Eddie a lot, actually, dreams about him more than he cares to admit and wonders what he’s doing, how he’s doing, who he’s doing. He’s gotten little snippets of information when they’re offered, but he doesn’t ever ask because he doesn’t feel like he has the right, and honestly, he thinks it’ll hurt more to know.

And it’s all his fault, so he’s got no room to complain.

Everyone else keeps in touch with Eddie, even Robin, but she’s also the only one who knows the details about their spectacular falling out and Steve’s subsequent crisis, so she doesn’t bring him up much anymore. She did at first, tried to push Steve to reconcile, especially after he settled into his own skin once and for all, but Steve could never do it. He couldn’t fuck things up more for Eddie Munson than he already had. It was an excuse, sure, but he felt it deeply anyway.

Which is why he hasn’t seen or spoken to Eddie in almost six years.

They’d both been living in Indianapolis at that point. A handful of years of solid, blossoming friendship under their belts post-Vecna and Eddie nearly dying, followed by a handful more dancing around each other while Steve figured his shit out. In normal Steve fashion, it took him a while. A long while. Who was he without some grand love affair, without daddy’s money and a fancy house, without apocalypse after apocalypse keeping him on his toes, without the kids after they scattered for college, without Robin once she left, too? He didn’t know what he wanted away from all of that. All he knew was that he cared about people, that he wanted to take care of people, but beyond that, the future felt hazy.

And Eddie… he waited. Steve stayed in Hawkins for the first stretch of their friendship because he couldn’t bring himself to leave until the kids were gone, but he didn’t understand at the time why Eddie stayed. The murder charges were dropped and all, but the shadow of that terrible spring never quite stopped following Eddie around. He didn’t give a shit, though, toughed it out and grinned and stayed even though he talked about traveling, about getting away from Hawkins and doing something with his life.

And they did get out, eventually. With the kids all off to college, there wasn’t much holding Steve there, so he left, and Eddie followed him to a shitty little apartment in Indianapolis above a hotdog joint.

He should have known then what was brewing between them. It was codependent like his relationship with Robin but different, intense and intimate and fuck, Steve probably did know, but he didn’t want to and shoved it down with everything else.

In the end, Steve didn’t really figure his shit out on his own, not really. Eddie told him, brave-faced and determined and righteously pissed off. Hurt.

Heartbroken.

“What the fuck do I have to do,” he said, basically vibrating where he stood in Steve’s bedroom doorway after they’d woken up from another night tangled up in each other’s arms because that was the thing they did when the nightmares were bad, even a decade down the road, “for you to understand that I’m in love with you?”

Steve didn’t have a response. He was still clinging to the last vestiges of normalcy his life held, still stubbornly digging his heels in and desperately wishing he’d stop getting his life turned upside down over and over and over again even though he didn’t know who the hell he was without that chaos.

It was awkward, and worse, it was lonely even though they shared the same space. Eddie left a few months after that for a small band tour and never came back. They spoke sparingly for a while, but that ended, too, with Steve huddled on the floor beneath the receiver, the phone cradled between his shoulder and head and a nasty ache deep in his chest.

“I can’t do this to myself anymore,” Eddie murmured into his ear, his words soft and laden with regret. “I’ve gotta move on, Steve. This really sucks, but I just — I can’t handle this kind of bullshit right now, and this is bullshit, man. It’s bullshit. I can’t just—”

He talked more, but Steve had heard all he could manage at the time. He’d never told Eddie what Nancy said to him the night their highschool romance ended. He had never told Robin, either, not in any direct way because he was so terrified of putting that thought into people’s minds, like he’d be speaking it into existence and it could-would-definitely-would be the final nail in the coffin that made the others realize he wasn’t worth it, leaving him completely alone. Again.

So, Eddie wasn’t trying to tear open old wounds, but knowing the word choice wasn’t intentional didn’t make it hurt any less.

And yeah, Steve should have known back then that it hurt the way it did because he cared about Eddie as much more than a friend. He should have known even before then, not long after Vecna, should have figured it out when Eddie started sleeping in his bed and vice versa. When Eddie would rub his head in the dark while Steve suffered from yet another migraine, another leftover scar from his many concussions. When Eddie would smile, his grin taking up his entire face, and immediately Steve’s chest would feel light and fluttery and everything felt easier.

When Eddie cupped his jaw and nearly kissed him the morning he confessed his feelings to Steve, a gentle, barely there brush of lips, and Steve felt terrified and confused and even worse, he felt a deep and cavernous want that he didn’t know how to translate, so he shoved it down, hidden away with every other vulnerability, and managed to lose one of his best friends and maybe the love of his life in one fell swoop.

So, Steve didn’t know. Didn’t figure it out in time. And now here he is, Dustin in his ear saying Steve, Steve, are you still there? Earth to Harrington! while he wonders if Eddie still thinks about him, too.

“Steve, seriously!”

“Yeah, sorry,” he finally manages, clearing his throat, trying to dislodge the lump sitting in it like a stone. “Guest room and pull out sofa. Pretty sure you could afford a hotel, though.”

“What fun is that?” Dustin laughs. “It’ll be a sleepover like old times!”

“Ugh, fine,” Steve sighs. “Did you buy plane tickets yet? When do you land? Do you need me to pick you up from the airport?”

“We land on the 20th, and nah. Eddie’s gonna pick us up.”

“He is?” Steve asks dumbly. “How?”

Dustin speaks slowly, like he’s talking to a child. “He’s going to drive there in his car from his apartment.”

Steve’s heart does a few somersaults and lodges itself in his throat. “I didn’t realize he was, uh, in Chicago.”

There’s silence from the other end of the line. When Dustin speaks again, there’s an edge to his voice. “Dude.”

“Don’t start, Henderson, c’mon—“

“He’s been in Chicago for three years, Steve. When are you going to just tell me what the fuck is going on between the two of you? You both say nothing’s wrong, it’s not a big deal, blah blah blah, but I’m not fucking stupid.”

“There’s nothing going on,” Steve confirms, because it’s true. There isn’t. Literally nothing is happening between him and Eddie. And fuck if there’s an emptiness inside of Steve that the other man once filled. All of his Hawkins family had wormed their way into his heart, except Eddie’s dug a little deeper and it sure as hell hurt like a bitch when it was ripped out. “We just drifted apart, man. That’s all.”

Dustin sighs dramatically. “Was it because you figured out you liked dudes and freaked out?”

Steve winces. It’s a joke. He can tell by Dustin’s tone, knows he likes to poke fun about Steve’s sexuality after he identified as a self-proclaimed ladies' man for so long, but it’s never come up this way before. Steve could deflect, but something in him shifts and instead he says, “More like because I figured it out too late.”

“Ooooooh,” Dustin breathes, and Steve can all but imagine the lightbulb flash to life above his head. It makes Steve think of his old hat with THINKING CAP on the front. “Oh my god, that makes so much more sense. What if—“

Steve knows that tone all too well, too. “What if nothing. None of your schemes. This isn’t something — you can’t get involved, Dustin. Please. It’s not fair to Eddie.”

“So you’re what? Going to just see him for the first time in who knows how long and make the single most important day of my life super weird and awkward?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “First, if this movie premier is the single most important day of your life, you’ve got bigger problems than my and Eddie’s falling out. And second, nothing is going to be awkward because we’re adults. This isn’t Hawkins High, Henderson.”

“Sure seems unnecessarily dramatic to me,” Dustin mutters and huffs out a long, drawn out sigh. “I’m holding you to that, Steve. No weirdness.”

“No weirdness,” Steve promises.

But Steve does feel weird about it.

He tells everything to Robin later that night after their friends have left and they’re lounging in their underwear because they’re both too full of turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes to put on real pants.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me he was in Chicago.”

Robin shrugs. “It wouldn’t have changed anything, would it?” When Steve doesn’t answer, she levels him with a pointed look. “That’s what I thought.”

“Fine, but what do I do now?”

“You could call him,” Robin says, plopping her feet in his lap. “Try to clear the air.”

Steve sighs and drops his head back against the cushion of the couch. “I get the feeling he’s not going to give a shit that he singlehandedly kickstarted my sexuality crisis.”

Robin gives him another calculating look, one brow arched. “I said clear the air, dingus, not tell him you’re in love with him.” She pauses and scrunches her lips and nose in thought. “But you could do that, too, actually. It’s not the worst idea. We don’t really… talk about you, but Edward Munson is a disgusting romantic. I could see him holding a torch for years.”

“I’m not still in love with him.” Even as he says it, Steve isn’t sure if that’s true. He’s got a string of failed dark eyed, dark haired romances in his wake and it’s probably for a reason. It’s hard, after all this time, to separate his feelings back then from his feelings now. And his feelings now… well, yeah maybe he’s a little bit in love with Eddie Munson. The Eddie Munson back then, anyway. He doesn’t know who Eddie is now.

“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t,” Robin concedes, even though her tone says she absolutely believes the former, “but you’ll never find out if you don’t take the chance. It’s not like the worse case scenario will be substantially worse than —” she gestures to the two of them with an arched brow “— this. You’ll know for sure, at least.”

He laughs a little and then swallows against the lump in his throat. “It’s just been so long, Rob. I don’t expect that he—” Steve stops and doesn’t finish the sentence. He’s getting ahead of himself. “This is stupid,” Steve finally mutters, when he really means this terrifies me.

“Yep,” Robin says agreeably. “So what do you think you’ll do?”

Steve presses the heels of his palms against his eyes. He feels a little sick, a combination of anxiety and too much food, but Robin’s cold feet on his knee provide a little bit of a grounding sensation so he can focus. He needs to figure out what he wants out of any of this, come to terms with the fact that Eddie might not want the same and that, despite Robin’s comment, Steve may be a bit more emotionally worse off than he started. But he knows he has to do something. Steve’s seen too much terrible, apocalyptic shit not to take second chances when they’re given to him. He’s too old to let opportunities skirt by, just out of reach, without at least trying. He’s already made the mistake of not reaching out to Eddie when he finally, finally figured his feelings out.

He lowers his hands and peeks at Robin. “I guess I need you to give me his number.”

Robin smiles, a proud little thing.

***

Steve shuts himself in his room Sunday night and stares down at his phone. He’d plugged Eddie’s number in maybe thirty minutes ago, and he’s been just sitting there since then, as if something magical might happen if he stresses hard enough. This shouldn’t be so difficult, but he still thinks about Eddie’s face all those years ago — open and vulnerable and angry. Steve hates that he’s become just another person on the list of people who have hurt Eddie Munson.

He finally hits the call button and shakily raises the phone to his ear.

“Munson,” the voice on the other end says after a few rings.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve replies, his voice softer than he meant it to be.

There’s silence, a long stretch of it. Steve’s heart thumps so hard his chest hurts.

Eddie finally exhales a little sigh. “Hey, there, Harrington. It’s been a while.”

Steve falls back onto his bed and stares at the ceiling, blinking away the sudden sting in his eyes. I’m not still in love with him, he’d told Robin, and yet here he is, brought to tears at the mere sound of Eddie’s voice. “Yeah, it has. Hear you’re in Chicago these days.”

“Yeah. Hear you’re here, too,” Eddie says. He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. “Why’re you calling, Steve?”

Steve closes his eyes. They’re still damp. He can feel tears pooling in the corners, threatening to fall. “I just — we’re going to see each other in a few weeks, and I wanted to talk to you first to, you know… make it less weird.”

“Let’s be real, it’s still gonna be weird,” Eddie states, not unkindly.

Steve huffs out a laugh. “But at least it won’t be haven’t spoken in six years weird.”

Eddie sounds a little fond, a little exasperated when he says, “There’s that Harrington logic.”

Steve drapes his free arm over his face. Eddie can’t see him, but he still wants to hide. Fuck, maybe this was a bad idea. “Oh yeah, I’m a real brainiac.”

“I hear you got a graduate degree,” Eddie says haughtily, and the fact that he knows makes Steve’s chest clench. “Can’t pull that I’m just a dumb jock bit anymore, Harrington. Maybe that worked on everyone else, but I knew better, and now you’ve shown your true colors to the masses.”

Steve snorts. “Hate to break it to you, but everyone still thinks I’m a dumb jock. Now I just wear glasses.”

“Guess some things never change.” Before Steve can respond, Eddie adds, his tone hesitant and strained, “Steve, listen—“

“Can you let me talk first?” he asks. His voice sounds hoarse. “I just— I know I don’t deserve it, but can I? Please.”

Eddie’s breath shudders out on the other end of the line. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve steels himself. “I thought that by the time the end of the end of the world rolled around, I’d changed,” he murmurs. “I thought I was a different person, a better person. And I was, sure, in some ways, but I was still a selfish prick.”

Steve pauses to catch his breath, and Eddie just hums, a gentle acknowledgement that he’s listening, so Steve pushes on.

“I took advantage of your friendship when you were so fucking vulnerable, and I regret it more than anything. I’m just so sorry, man. I never acknowledged your feelings, and it’s shitty that I’m doing it right now, but I don’t want you to see my face in a few weeks without knowing that I fucking regret it. I regret hurting you and not figuring my shit out sooner and letting you go. I really regret it, Eddie.”

Silence. Steve only knows Eddie hasn’t hung up because he can hear an occasional puff of breath. He wishes that he could see Eddie’s face right now. His eyes and mouth were always so expressive, laugh lines and creases telling such vibrant stories even when Eddie wasn’t talking, which was rare. He’s missed Eddie over the years, in small and big ways, but it hasn’t felt this all-consuming in so long.

“This isn’t fair,” Eddie finally says, words thickened with emotion.

It feels like a knife in Steve’s chest, twisting and twisting and twisting until he can barely breathe. “I know. Selfish prick, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, I do,” the other man replies with soft chuckle and clears his throat. “Look, dude, I forgive you, all right? I get it. Water under the bridge. I’ve moved on, I figure you have, too.”

Steve thinks should feel relieved.

Instead, the knife twists more brutally. Whatever dam his forearm created isn’t enough now. There are wet streaks trailing down his cheeks, hot against his skin. Steve’s not sure what he expected, how he expected to react, but it definitely wasn’t this wave of devastation that’s sweeping him away right now. He’s been torn up about how things ended with Eddie, sure, poisoned by guilt, but he still functioned and lived his life and made meaning.

That door was never completely shut before, though, was it? Despite all the hurt he caused, that small part of him always considered that it was still a maybe.

The door’s locked now. Eddie is beyond his reach, and Steve really is a selfish prick.

“I appreciate it,” Steve breathes, or tries to. The emotion’s lodged in his lungs now and he feels a little bit like he’s suffocating. “I don’t care what Henderson says about you, you’re a good dude.”

Eddie’s laugh sounds punched out of him and genuine.

Steve has to tilt the phone away for a second so Eddie can’t hear the way his breath trembles when he exhales. He missed Eddie’s laugh. It’s like Robin’s, loud and infectious. It doesn’t last, though, and the silence hangs between them again, a little tense and a little awkward. Steve’s about to break it when Eddie does.

“You’re doing well, though?” he asks quietly, a strange edge to his voice. “You’re good? Livin’ life?”

“Yeah, I’m doing all right. I’m a social worker at a high school.”

Eddie groans. “Just punishing yourself for eternity with little Hendersons, huh?”

“Yeah, you could say that. I like it, though. Feels more me than any other job I’ve ever worked. What about you? What’re you up to?”

“I teach guitar lessons at the Old Town School of Music, play some consistent gigs in the Chicago metal scene. Go on tour every so often still, too”

“That sounds awesome, man. I can see you as a guitar teacher. I haven’t been to a show in a long time. Migraines and shit.”

“Still get those, huh?” Eddie voice sounds like he’s thinking back, too, remembering Steve’s debilitating migraines and the way in which he used to touch Steve in the dark, gentle, cool fingers on his temples and scalp, to soothe the pain. “Sucks, man.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, another tear slipping past his forearm. “I’m really glad you’re doing well, Eddie.”

Eddie’s chuckle is uncomfortable this time. “Yeah, me too. For you, I mean. But look, I gotta get to sleep. Can’t hang like I used to without a full eight hours of beauty rest. I’ll see you in a few weeks, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you then.”

“Night, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, and before Steve can respond, the dial tone sounds in his ear.

He sets it aside and finally drags his forearm away from his face, smearing tears. He scrubs them away the best he can before he gets up and leaves his room. Robin’s in the dimly lit living room, face flashing with lights from the TV. When he comes into view, she does a double take and then immediately mutes the show.

“Steve?” she hedges.

He can feel his lower lip tremble, but he forces a smile and a one-shouldered shrug. “I did it. He told me it’s water under the bridge. He forgave me for being an ass.”

“And the other thing?”

“I didn’t, like, spell it out,” he says miserably, “but he said he’s moved on, so.”

Robin’s expression falls and she opens her arms. Steve shuffles over and collapses onto the couch, head pillowed in her lap. She starts combing her fingers through his hair immediately, touch sure and affectionate.

“I know it’s not what you wanted, but at least now you know,” she murmurs eventually. “You can move on, too. You’ve been holding this torch too long.”

Steve’s laugh is bitter and choked off. “I’ve moved on from enough, haven’t I? Moved on from Nance, from my parents, from Hawkins and the fucking monsters and trauma. I’ve already left so much behind, Rob. I know I did this to myself, but fuck.”

Robin hums her understanding and says, “We know better than anyone that life isn’t fair.”

“Yes, we do,” he sighs, wipes at his face some more but doesn’t move and Robin doesn’t stop playing with his hair. “Mope tonight and move on tomorrow?”

“Want me to put on 10 Things I Hate About You?”

He sits up immediately and offers her a smile before she clambers off of the couch to start going through their slowly growing collection of DVDs. Not for the first time, he’s beyond thankful that Robin’s not one of the things he’s lost. Not one of the things he broke. He doesn’t think he’d be here, if that was the case.

They make popcorn and curl up on the couch with a few fleece blankets. They quote half the movie and sing You’re Just Too Good to be True together, loud and out of tune. He dozes off soon after and wakes near the end when the prom band is playing I Want You to Want Me on the school roof. Robin’s no longer next to him. He blinks the confusion away and then, even over the music and through his sleepy brain fog, he hears Robin.

“…so dumb,” she says in the tone that means she’s rolling her eyes. He can tell she’s trying for her quiet voice, but Robin’s never mastered it. “I can’t even with you, god.”

Steve gets up and turns off the TV before heading towards his room. He stops in front of the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar, light spilling out into the dark hall. Steve knocks on the doorframe.

The door opens. “Hey, Steve,” Robin says quickly, her voice a little too loud and strangled. Her cell is held a few inches form her ear and she’s staring at him with wide eyes.

“Gonna go to bed,” he says and offers her a smile. “Love you, Rob.”

“Love you, too, dingus,” she replies immediately, and when he disappears out of view, she hisses, “I’m hanging up.”

***

The next few weeks fly by, and before Steve knows it, he’s on winter break and the kids’ visit is imminent. He and Robin stock the kitchen, make sure there are clean sheets on the guest bed, and vacuum the crumbs out of the crevices of the pull out couch. They put up their small, maybe three-foot tall Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. They considered a larger one, but they’re both going to be traveling back to Hawkins for the holiday and they’re too afraid Jack will try to climb a larger tree and wreck havoc. Instead, he curls at the base of this one like a dragon hoarding gold.

Steve has done his best not to think about Eddie. It’s been successful in that he hasn’t really had the time to do it between work, employee Christmas parties, and Robin, who has made it her mission in life to be sure Steve is happy and happily distracted. Steve has a feeling she’s fighting with some amount of guilt, even if she won’t admit it, because she pushed him to call Eddie. Steve knows they would have ended up here regardless, though. The ship’s sailed. He’s moved on before. He can do it again. He knows that he’s resilient, even when he feels like falling apart a bit.

Dustin, Mike, El, and Will coordinated their flights so they all show up to O’Hare around the same time and will likely show up to the apartment by 8pm. At 7:30pm, while they’re waiting for pizzas to show, Steve is standing in the bathroom, gripping the sink while trying to control his breathing.

“You know we don’t have to let him up,” Robin says from where she’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed.

Steve groans. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“Makes total sense to me, dingus. I felt the same way when I saw Rebecca at that art show.”

“You and Rebecca dated for like, a year,” Steve grouses.

Robin just rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter, Steve. We had a title, sure, and I know it’s a little different, but the feelings we had for each other? You and Eddie had the same shit going on. Plus, history matters, and nothing makes it more complicated than near death experiences due to interdimensional monsters.”

Steve closes his eyes and exhales, long and slow. Robin steps up to him and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his shoulder blade.

“I’ll protect you, promise,” she says quietly. “I know your tells, Harrington. If I start to see you falling overboard, I’ll make an excuse to get you a lifeboat and send Eddie walking the plank”

Steve laughs and rests his hand over hers. “Maybe you should be the social worker.”

“God no,” Robin laughs. “You grew up, Steve Harrington. I’m still an immature piece of shit.”

“You’re my immature piece of shit,” Steve replies with feeling and meets her gaze in the mirror where she’s peaking over his shoulder. He smiles. “Thanks, Buckley.”

The doorbell buzzes.

She and Steve both jerk, and then Robin tightens her hold on him briefly before letting go and stepping out of the room. “I got the door.”

“I’ll be out in a sec,” he promises and then she disappears.

Steve hears Dustin’s voice before they even make it fully into the apartment and then Robin yelling, “Don’t let the cat out!” Steve takes another few deep breathes and then walks out to meet them. Jack scrambles past him and disappears down the hall, probably into one of their bedrooms. Steve is momentarily jealous. He wishes he could hide, too.

Dustin has him in a bear hug before he can even speak or look around, squeezing him so hard he wheezes.

“Steve!” Dustin yells excitedly, shaking him a bit. “Steven Harrington, you beautiful man.”

“You’re gonna suffocate me, Henderson,” he manages, and Dustin lets him go with a laugh and them hugs him normally.

Steve hugs back and gets a look at all the stares trained on him over Dustin’s shoulder. Mike is rolling his eyes, Will and El are both smiling fondly on either side of Robin, and Eddie —

Eddie looks good, and having him there, just a few strides away, hits Steve square in the chest, stealing his breath a little bit. Dark jeans, boots, a leather jacket even though it’s cold out — that hasn’t changed. His hair is still long, too, pulled back into a ponytail so only his bangs frame his face along with one stray curl. Steve thinks he sees some streaks of grey. He’s got crows feet at the corners of his dark eyes, too, and little wrinkles between his eyebrows.

When their eyes meet, he offers a brief, half-assed smile.

Yep, definitely still in love with him, Steve thinks a little hysterically. He feels dizzy with it.

“Missed you, man,” Dustin says, oblivious, and then pulls back so Steve can see his face. He’s grinning, cheeks rosy from the cold. “You look good. You been working out?”

It breaks a bit of the tension, so maybe Dustin isn’t as oblivious as he seems. Steve rolls his eyes and claps Dustin on the upper arm. “Are you hitting on me, Henderson?”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Gross, man, you’re like my brother.”

“My turn!”

“To hit on him?” Will asks and then laughs when Robin snorts.

Dustin steps aside and El throws herself into his arms. She had longer hair the last time Steve saw her in the spring, but it’s cropped into a short pixie cut this time. Steve likes it. He always thought short hair suited her youthful-face-but-old-eyes thing.

“Hi, Steve,” she says softly into his ear. “I am so happy to see you. It will be okay.”

Steve tightens his hold on her for a moment before he steps back. “Stop reading my aura or whatever. Also, I like the new look. Max finally convinced you to chop it off again, huh?”

She beams up at him. “I like it, too. My head is very cold, though.”

“We’ll have to find you a cool hat while you’re visiting. Something with a pompom, maybe.”

She steps away and is replaced by Will, who squeezes him tightly. Steve, Robin, and Will have developed a much closer relationship over the last few years. Robin likes to say it’s because they’re the token queers of the group, which is probably true.

Will pulls back, smiling softly. “I’ve got gifts for you from Mom. She’s probably going to mail you more.”

“Dude, she sent me so much shit over the summer. We’re not gonna have room for anything else if she keeps it up with the home shopping network.”

“Dad is very annoyed and threatened to throw away the television,” El adds, causing Steve to laugh.

Mike just shakes his hand, because it’s Mike and he’s still kind of an asshole, and then it’s just Steve staring at Eddie. He thinks he looks calm and collected when holds out his hand.

“Good to see you, man,” he says and means it, but for a brief moment, he thinks Eddie won’t take it because he’s just staring intently at Steve with those dark eyes. But, before Steve can withdraw, he reaches out and grips Steve’s hand. His fingertips are cold against his skin.

“You, too, Harrington. Nice place. Lots of plants.”

“We’re plant gays, Eddie, no judgement,” Robin chastises with a grin.

The doorbell sounds again. Steve pulls back before he does something stupid, like stand there and not let go ever, and says, “Rob, let me get my wallet.”

“I think Henderson should pay,” Robin sing-songs as she grabs Steve and tugs him to a stop. She slips her hand into his, too, squeezing. Steve squeezes back. God, he loves her. “That’ll be forty-five plus tip, Dustybun.”

Dustin throws his hands in the air. “Why do I have to pay?”

Robin smiles sweetly and holds out her free hand. “Because you’re a computer engineer, while Steve works in social services and I do transcription work. Plus, he paid for you little gremlins for years. Now cough it up.”

Dustin rolls his eyes but pulls out his wallet and hands her a few bills. She pats his cheek and then heads to the door to grab the pizzas.

“You guys want anything to drink?” Steve asks, moving into the kitchen to get plates and napkins while the others finish taking off their jackets and shoes. “I’ve got Miller Lite and some fancy shit Rob brought home from a Christmas party.”

“I want the fancy shit!” Mike yells and Eddie says, “You don’t even know what it is, Wheeler,” and then it starts to just feel like old times.

Robin sets the pizzas on the table, which is only a four seater, so Steve deposits drinks, plates, and napkins and then goes for the folding chairs they have in the back closet. He looks over his shoulder when he hears footsteps, expecting Dustin, but it’s Eddie standing there in a t-shirt, all of his tattoos — some Steve recognize and some he doesn’t — on display. Steve just blinks at him, stunned.

“We’re good, yeah?” Eddie asks quietly, a little concerned divot between his eyebrows.

“I’m good if you’re good,” Steve replies, sounding more sure than he feels. “It really is good to see you, Eddie.”

“You, too.” Eddie stares at him for another moment, licking his lips anxiously, and then adds, “I can help with the chairs.”

So he hands Eddie two of the chairs.

Dinner is fun. It’s one thing to catch up with all of them separately, but having this many of them together in full chaos mode tugs at Steve’s heartstrings even though they all drive him a bit nuts. El and Mike talk about their impending wedding in the spring, and Will mentions that he’s got a plus one to bring.

“Is this the librarian?” Dustin asks, pizza sauce smeared on the side of his face.

“Yeah, John,” Will says and blushes a bit.

Dustin says, “nice” at the same time that Robin blurts, “Steve dated a librarian once.”

All eyes pivot to Steve and he groans, leaning back in his chair. “Goddamnit, Robin, you pinkie swore.”

“I can’t help it!” she yells and throws her hands in the air, almost smacking Mike. “He was literally the worst and it’s been, like, three years. We’ve passed the statute of limitations for not talking about it.”

“You?” Mike says, a little disgusted. “With a librarian? No way.”

“Don’t you start, you asshole,” Robin snips on his behalf, so Steve chances a glance at Eddie. His eyebrows have shot up, lost behind his bangs. He doesn’t look surprised, though, more so confused and curious. Steve’s never asked, but he assumes that either one of the kids or Robin let slip about Steve’s handful of short-term boyfriends in the last few years.

He feels kind of like a fucking idiot, in the moment, because he doesn’t know what that must feel like to Eddie.

“Listen,” Steve sighs after he tears his gaze away from Eddie and runs a hand anxiously through his hair. “It didn’t go anywhere. We dated for a few months—“

“You dated a librarian and you still never took the time to read Lord of the Rings,” Dustin says, mock-disgusted.

“This guy was way more pretentious than that,” Steve says just as Robin adds, “Steve’s been listening to it on audiobook.”

“What!” Dustin and Will both yell, turning wide eyes towards Steve. Mike narrows his eyes and crosses his hands over his chest, skeptical.

“Jesus Christ, Robin, why don’t you give them my social security number!”

She grins, all teeth. “You’re joking, but we both know I have it memorized.”

“I was going to surprise you,” he snaps at Dustin after giving Robin the dirtiest look he can muster. “All of my kids at school were talking about it with the movie coming out, and someone told me there was an audio book. It’s easier on my headaches than reading and those books are fucking long with the tiniest goddamned print.”

Dustin reaches out and hugs him, almost toppling them both out of their chairs. “You’re a maniac, Steve. A beautiful maniac.”

“All I did was listen to a book!”

“Did it finally happen?” Will asks, dimples out as he grins, pillowing his chin in his hand while watching Steve fondly.

Steve narrows his eyes. “Did what happen?”

“The nerdification of Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington.”

Dustin whoops and Will laughs. Even Mike snorts a little. Robin watches them with affection, her nose scrunched.

“Why am I still friends with any of you,” Steve mutters, rolling his eyes, but he feels warm in a good way. “El, help me out here.”

She nods, her face a mask of seriousness. “You still seem very cool to me, Steve.”

Steve winks at her and her expression breaks and she snickers, knuckles pressed to her lips.

Robin leans forward and waves a hand in front of Eddie, who hasn’t moved or spoken. She’s got an eyebrow raised knowingly and that little glint in her eye that means she’s trying to make him uncomfortable. “Earth to Munson. You good?”

“I’m being bombarded with a lot of information here,” he says easily, but Steve can tell he and Robin are having some weird, silent discussion with the way their eyebrows move.

Dustin shoots Eddie a contemplative glance before he turns back to Steve. “I’ve got a whole list of books for you. Where’s some paper? And a pen?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want your list. This was more than enough—”

“We can start a book club, Steve!”

“Absolutely not.”

“You probably haven’t started the Harry Potter books, right? Oh my god, Steve, you have to—“

It continues on like that for a while. Dips back to Will’s librarian boyfriend and Mike and El’s wedding, circles around to Nancy and the rest of the Hopper-Byers clan, lands on Dustin, who talks about this video game he’s working on. Eddie even talks a bit about his job, specifically this trio of old ladies who decided to learn guitar in retirement. They talk about Max and Lucas. They drink all the beer in the fridge and the next time Steve pays any attention to the clock, it’s because El’s falling asleep sitting up at the table, her eyes heavy. It’s nearly 1am.

“Looks like it’s time to put the children to bed,” Steve says, nodding towards El.

Will snorts. “I swear she could fall asleep standing up.”

“Like a cow,” Dustin adds sagely. Mike smacks him in the arm. “Hey!”

“All right, that’s enough. Go pull out the sleeper. I’ll grab some sheets. Mike, the guest room’s already set up for you two.”

When Steve wanders back into the living room, arms piled high with sheets, a blankets, and some extra pillows, he notices Eddie standing there awkwardly while making quiet conversation with Dustin. Steve dumps his armful on the pull out.

“Munson, you want to crash here?” he asks as casually as he can manage. He thinks he does an okay job.

Eddie turns towards him with widening eyes. “No, I don’t want to intru—“

“You drank like six beers,” Robin says on a yawn as she floats past him to lock the front door. On her way back, she loops an arm around his waist and leans into him, swaying a bit on her feet. “No drinking and driving, it’s a Buckley-Harrington rule.”

It’s not, but Steve catches the way her eyes dart away from Eddie to him and back again. “Munson, you can take my bed and I’ll just sleep with Robin.”

“Uh,” Eddie says eloquently.

Robin ignores it and shakes him a bit. “Seriously, it’s cool.”

Eddie just blinks.

“That’s not fair. Why didn’t I get offered a real bed,” Dustin mutters, yawning.

Steve smiles blandly at him, trying to ignore the fact that Eddie looks pretty uncomfortable with this whole situation. He knows it’s the safest option, but he hates feeling like he’s forced him to stick around. “You could be sleeping in a cozy hotel, but you decided to crash here, so deal with the consequences. Eddie, I’ll grab you some pajamas. Robin, I’m sleeping on the outside.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” she mumbles and then shuffles off towards her room with a wave and an even more mumbled goodnight.

Dustin and Will start putting the sheets on the pull out, so Steve leads Eddie towards his room. The silence is strange and heavy, but Steve tries not to fixate on it. It’s easier to let his thoughts slide away from the anxiety with a few beers in his system and he’s going to take advantage of it.

“I feel bad kicking you out of your own bed, man,” Eddie sighs from the doorway as Steve digs through his dresser.

Steve glances over his shoulder. Eddie’s got his arms crossed over his chest, stance tense and eyebrows drawn low on his forehead. Steve may not have seen him for a long time, but Eddie’s thoughtful, contemplative, overthinking expression is still the same. It tugs on Steve’s heart a bit, makes it hurt.

He offers what he hopes is a calming smile. “It’s cool, seriously. No need to feel bad. Rob and I have crashed together for moral support even without having guests over, so this is a normal weekday night.”

That causes Eddie to laugh quietly. “You two were always codependent.”

“Well, you know as well as her that I’m a big clingy baby when it comes to nightmares,” Steve jokes before he thinks about it, then freezes. He doesn’t look over his shoulder when he adds, “Sorry.”

“What’re you sorry about?” Eddie hedges, a bit of an edge to his voice. Steve recognizes that, too, the tone that creeps in when Eddie’s considering whether or not he wants to dig his heels in and start a fight.

Steve tries to choose his words carefully. “I just don’t want to… I don’t know, dude, bring up shitty memories or whatever.”

Eddie scoffs. “You consider moments of intimacy between us be shitty memories?”

Steve knows he deserves this kind of petty line of questioning, but he’s tired and a bit slow from the beer and he hasn’t seen Eddie in so long. He’d asked Steve is they were good, and Steve assumed that meant Eddie was, but it’s becoming very clear very quickly that he isn’t.

“No, of course not,” Steve says gently. “It’s more to do with my emotional obliviousness, I guess. A dig at myself. Kinda fucked it up on all fronts, so I’d understand if memories with me were… less than palatable.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer immediately, just shuts the dresser drawer with a little more force than he means to and turns to face Eddie, only to find the other man standing about a foot away from him. Steve nearly backs up but stops himself. Eddie searches his face, frowning.

Before Steve can actually answer, Eddie swats at the air, dismissing an answer, and says, “New question. Something’s been bugging me since we spoke.”

Steve inhales sharply. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We spoke, then I spoke with Robin because’s she’s nosy as fuck and I know you tell her everything, and something’s just not adding up.”

Steve doesn’t really know how to respond to that, but he doesn’t like where this is going.

“When we spoke on the phone,” Eddie says slowly, like he’s feeling out the words, “you apologized for hurting me.”

“Yeah, because I am sorry,” Steve starts, but Eddie tilts his head and narrows his eyes in a way that makes Steve bite down on the other words that want to come out.

“You also said you regretted letting me go.”

Steve feels heat rush to his face. He clutches the flannel pajamas pants to his chest. “Yes. Yeah, I do.”

“And you said you regret not figuring your shit out earlier,” Eddie continues. “What shit did you mean?”

Steve opens his mouth but nothing comes out. The way Eddie responded on the phone, telling Steve he wasn’t being fair, he thought it had been clear. He thought—

“Steve,” Eddie warns.

“Is now really the best time to do this?“ Steve asks, voice low.

“I waited for you for literal years,” Eddie breathes, taking another step towards him. “A fucking decade, Harrington. I waited so long and so patiently and I still couldn’t have you, so I deserve to know what the fuck you meant about figuring shit out and letting me go.”

Steve stares down at Eddie’s hands, mentally tracing the shape of his rings. It brings him back to his own body, makes him realize his knuckles ache with how tightly he’s gripping and twisting the fabric in his hands. “I don’t know what else to explain,” he finally manages, the words strained, and forces himself to look up at Eddie. “I didn’t realize I was in love with you and just let you walk out of my life—”

Eddie’s eyes darken. “You. In love with me.”

Steve takes a few steps back and sags against the dresser, closing his eyes. He feels nauseous now, a dull but insistent ache in the pit of his stomach that’s twisting everything up. “Yeah, man, me in love with you.”

“You never said anything,” Eddie rasps angrily. “You never told me.”

“I figured it out pretty fucking late, Eddie,” Steve snaps, and when he opens his eyes, Eddie looks pissed and a little devastated. It’s the same expression he wore the day he confessed to Steve, just with a few extra wrinkles and grey hairs. Steve fucking hates himself, in that moment. He hates himself so much for doing this to Eddie again. “I didn’t even know where you were living. I hadn’t spoken to you in at least a year when it finally clicked. I didn’t know how — I couldn’t— “ He exhales sharply through his nose. “It wouldn’t have been fair to just throw that on you after you cut me out for good reason.”

Eddie drags his hand over his face. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steve, you’re so stup—”

“Lower your fuckin’ voice, man,” Steve growls. “Just — shut the door, if you really want to have this conversation at one in the goddamned morning.”

Eddie turns, and his movements are so jerky and furious that Steve thinks he might leave, but he closes the door and locks it, one hand gripping the doorframe. He doesn’t turn back around.

“When did you figure it out?” he asks quietly.

“Eddie—“

“When?” he snaps, shoulders tense.

Steve is pretty sure he’s about to cry, so he drops the pajama pants and presses the heels of his palms against his eyes until he sees flashes of light against the backs of his eyelids. He’s thought about this a million times, confessing to Eddie, and he never once considered it would be like this. “About a year after we stopped talking.”

Eddie’s tone is incredulous. “That was like, what? Four, five years ago?”

Steve doesn’t respond to that.

“You didn’t think that maybe, after nearly a decade of pining after you like a fucking idiot, that another year or two under my belt was probably a likelihood? That if you—if you reached out and told me, we could’ve fucking figured something out? Jesus, Steve!”

Steve drops his hands to his sides and opens his eyes. Eddie’s facing him now, back against the door, and he looks so hurt and betrayed that it rips the breath right out of Steve’s lungs.

“I thought we established I was a selfish prick,” he manages and deserves the sneer Eddie directs his way. “As per fucking usual, I wasn’t considering your feelings, Eddie. I only thought about myself, man, and I was afraid. I was afraid of change and of being hurt.”

Eddie sputters. “Are you fucking joking? You were afraid of being hurt? That’s rich.”

Steve throws his hands in the air. “I know! I know it’s fucking hypocritical and that I’m an asshole! But like, who the fuck has a fucking gay crisis at 30 over their best friend who they rejected? I didn’t know what to do, man.”

“So you didn’t do anything, except you ruined me for anyone else,” Eddie says, and the anger is morphing into blatant heartache, his words edged with such hurt. “You ruined me for anyone else, Steve, and all this fucking time, you’re telling me I could’ve had you.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Eddie…”

Eddie stalks forward and reaches for him, his hand cupping Steve’s neck for a moment, rings cold against his skin, before those long fingers tangle in his hair. Steve gasps right as Eddie pulls him forward, crashing their lips together. He emits a startled noise against Eddie’s mouth, hands coming up to grip his t-shirt. He thinks, for a split second, about pushing him away because they should talk about this, they need to talk about this, but Eddie is kissing him like his life depends on it and Steve is weak.

He raises a hand to Eddie’s cheek, tilts his head ever so slightly so he can lick into the other man’s mouth. The moan that Eddie emits is broken and a little bit feral, punched out of him in a way that completely whites out Steve’s brain and sends all blood rushing to his dick. His other hand finds Eddie’s waist, grips a combination of t-shirt and skin to pull Eddie closer until they’re pressed from hip to chest. Eddie dips to bite at Steve’s jaw, hips rolling, cock hard agains his thigh, and Steve tips his head back, lets Eddie suck a mark over his pulse point until Steve’s scrabbling at his chest and shoulders and moaning his name.

Without warning, Eddie tugs on his hair, tugs Steve towards the bed. When Steve’s knees hit the edge of the mattress, Eddie pulls back slightly and wrenches Steve’s shirt off and then his own before they make eye contact. Eddie’s lips are red and spit-slick, his pupils blown so wide his already dark eyes look black, and he’s breathing so hard his chest presses into Steve’s every time he inhales.

“Steve,” Eddie whispers, suddenly unsure.

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but all Steve can respond is, “I’m yours if you want me,” and then before he can stop himself, he throws in a quiet, broken, “please want me.”

Something fractures in Eddie’s expression and for a terrible, heartbreaking moment, Steve thinks the other man might cry, might leave, but then he surges forward and kisses Steve breathless before pressing both hands to his chest and pushing.

Steve falls back on the mattress, startled, but then he looks up and feels heat coil in the pit of his stomach. Eddie’s hair came loose from his ponytail at some point, so he looks like an avenging angel with the way the lamp light is casting shadows across his face and backlighting the messy curls framing his face. Steve’s eyes dart from his face to his chest, cataloguing all of the tattoos and scars that still swirl silver along his flanks.

When he meets Eddie’s eyes again, the other man doesn’t look away as he reaches for his belt buckle. He unclasps it with deft fingers, then makes quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans. Steve wants to reach out, to touch, but something in Eddie’s gaze holds him back. He doesn’t even look down when Eddie shoves his jeans and boxers down and steps out of them.

Eddie reaches out, though. He cups Steve’s jaw, thumb pressing against his bottom lip until Steve opens his mouth and sucks, tongue laving over his finger. Eddie hisses, teeth clenched, and after Steve releases his thumb with a pop, he slides his hand to the back of Steve’s head and takes a handful of hair, giving a gentle tug. Steve groans quietly and shivers. Eddie sucks in a breath, nostrils flaring, and directs Steve towards his cock.

Steve has learned a few things about himself over the last couple of years. While he prefers to be the more dominant one with women, he’s often found himself submitting to male partners. He’s sure there’s some sexist bullshit or daddy issues he needs to work through about the dynamic, but there’s just something about being able to relinquish control with a partner who is physically on par or stronger than him.

And Eddie is that and so much more. He’s someone Steve has loved, in different capacities, for a long time. He’s someone who Steve has hurt. He’s someone who Steve wants so desperately he feels like his might pass out with how hard his heart is beating.

Steve opens his mouth, allowing Eddie to drag the underside of his cock along Steve’s tongue for a few moments. They’re still staring at each other like they’re both too afraid to look away and break whatever truce they’ve come to.

Eddie pulls on his hair a bit, and Steve finally reaches out, splays his hands across the scars on Eddie’s sides, and then wraps his lips around Eddie’s dick and sucks.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie hisses and thrusts forward gently once, twice before he starts moving in earnest, still staring down at Steve with an intensity that makes his stomach swoop just as much as it sets fire to his insides.

Eddie isn’t gentle. He tugs hard enough on Steve’s hair to make his eyes water and fucks his face with abandon. His moans sound almost like growls when he drags Steve forward until his cock is tickling the back of Steve’s throat and holds him there until he gags and chokes, spit slipping past his lips and down his chin. Eddie uses his free hand to trace Steve’s lips where they’re spread wide, to hold his chin and grip his neck and feel the way Steve’s body responds to him. He touches him gently in those moments. Reverently.

Steve moans wantonly the entire time because he’s never been more turned on in his entire fucking life. The sounds he’s making are obscene but he doesn’t care. He’s still in his jeans and his dick hurts because he’s so hard, but he doesn’t let go of Eddie to try to relieve some of the pressure. He’s afraid, he realizes distantly, that if he lets go, Eddie’s going to disappear.

“Fucking hell, baby, your mouth,” Eddie groans, sweat glistening along his collar bones. “I want to fuck you. Will you let me fuck you?”

Steve’s pretty sure Eddie could ask for anything right now and he’d give it to him. He nods jerkily, exhaling harshly through his nose, and Eddie thrusts forward a few more times before he slowly pulls out.

Steve licks at his lips, breaths coming fast. Eddie loosens the hold on his hair, cups Steve’s jaw with both hands and touches the corners of his mouth with his thumbs, stroking gently.

“Jesus Christ, you look so good like this,” he murmurs brokenly.

Steve finally closes his eyes, afraid his emotions are going to get the better of him if he keeps watching Eddie stare at him like that. He tilts his head, nuzzling into Eddie’s hands, which just makes the other man exhale raggedly.

They stay like that for another few moments before Eddie finally takes a step away and out of Steve’s grasp, his hands falling away. “Where do you keep—”

“Nightstand,” Steve rasps, wiping at his face as he stands on shaky legs. His pulse is pounding in his ears, heart banging behind his ribs so hard its making it catch his breath, but he stands and sheds his pants and boxers as Eddie riffles through his things. There are little half-moon marks on Eddie’s sides where Steve’s nails dug in.

He turns back to Steve with a condom and lube and trepidation back on his face.

“How do you want me?” Steve asks because if Eddie asks him, he’s going to blurt out some sentimental bullshit.

“Wanna see your face,” Eddie answers honestly. His eyes widen, almost like he didn’t mean to say it, but he rips the condom packet open with his teeth. “Wanna watch you fall apart.”

Steve swallows against the sudden lump in his throat and climbs on the bed, scooting back towards the pillows. Eddie tosses the lube next to him and then rolls the condom down, eyes trained on Steve again. When he climbs up onto the bed, one knee and then the other sinking into the mattress, he doesn’t have to ask before Steve is adjusting his legs so Eddie can settle between them. Eddie tugs on his hips a bit, situating him how he wants him, and groans as he looks down at Steve.

Neither of them say anything. Eddie grabs the lube, coats his fingers, and there’s one more flash of unease before he touches Steve.

Steve throws his head back. Eddie’s barely touching him, just rubbing circles against him with the pads of his fingers, but it’s been a while since Steve’s been with anyone. He’s overly sensitive, and the fact that it’s Eddie touching him — he feels so overwhelmed, so many emotions on top of the overall arousal, and then Eddie’s finger breaches the tight ring of muscle.

Steve’s back arches slightly, breath punched out of him. Eddie groans and runs his free hand from Steve’s stomach to his chest, holds him there. Steve knows he must be able to feel the violent beat of his heart.

“Look at me,” he says quietly, a demanding edge to his words.

The moment Steve angles his head forward and their eyes lock, Eddie starts pumping his finger in and out. Steve grips the sheets, chest heaving beneath the weight of Eddie’s palm, and then Eddie works a second finger in without warning.

There’s a single moment where Steve hisses against the stretch, especially when Eddie scissors his fingers, but then he curls them just right and Steve jolts, back arching off the bed as a keening whine is ripped from his lungs. He feels the sharp burst of pleasure in his fingertips, in his toes, and he hears Eddie murmur “fucking Christ, baby, my god” before he’s doing it again, over and over until Steve is writhing and gasping on the bed.

He thinks Eddie works a third finger in, isn’t sure because he’s relentless, pressing his fingertips against that bundle of nerves until Steve is leaking against his stomach and breathing so hard he feels dizzy. Eddie hovers above him, his expression awed and his eyes flicking from Steve’s face to his ass like he isn’t sure what he wants, needs to see more.

The way Steve’s stomach drops when Eddie pulls his fingers away is startling in its intensity. He falls back against the bed, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead and knuckles aching from how tight he’s been gripping the sheets.

He should be complete mush, but the sudden lack of sensation makes his thoughts come back online with a vengeance. They shouldn’t be doing this. Steve won’t — how is he supposed to move on after this? How can he live with himself, knowing what he’s put Eddie though? Even if Eddie just wants a quick fuck, Steve knows it can never be that for him. This won’t be a blip. It’ll be a defining moment, a heartbreaking low where he tasted something he wanted so desperately only to have it be just out of reach. This is exactly what he was afraid of. There’s too much history, too much vulnerability, for this to be anything but emotionally devastating for them both in different ways.

And then Eddie’s in his view again, cock pressing against Steve’s ass and hair falling around him in dark ringlets. He’s so fucking beautiful it takes Steve’s breath away.

“Can I touch you?” Steve asks, words thick. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he needs permission. If he can’t be strong enough to stop this from happening, the least he can do is ask before he bruises Eddie’s skin and leaves marks.

Steve hates the expression on Eddie’s face right then. His eyes widen and he looks lost for a moment, lost and afraid, but then he reaches forward and cups Steve’s jaw. He doesn’t answer, just lines up and pushes into Steve in one fell swoop until his hips are flush with Steve’s ass. They both groan. The stretch burns and Steve’s shaking and he feels like he’s going to come apart any second.

“Eddie, please,” he rasps, moving his hips ever so slightly, his hands hovering over his chest, waiting for permission.

Eddie’s expression darkens. “You’re so fucking unfair,” he grumbles and grabs both of Steve’s hands, pins them next to his head, and starts fucking him in earnest.

Steve whines, quiet but high pitched, and surges up to press his lips to the ink decorating Eddie’s collarbone. He licks, nibbles, bites harder when Eddie moans. Eddie lets go of one of Steve’s hands to grab his knee, open Steve up more in a way that makes his hamstring and hip ache a bit, but the change in angle finds that switch again that sends electricity through his body.

“Oh god,” Steve moans, spine arching. “Eddie, fuck, fuck!”

“Fucking hell,” Eddie groans, and then he’s letting go of Steve’s other wrist. He grips a handful of Steve’s hair and yanks his head so he can dip down and capture Steve’s lips in a brutal kiss. It’s messy and desperate, smeared spit and teeth clicking together, but Steve presses into him and breathes him in like a drowning man.

“Touch yourself,” Eddie whispers into his mouth before he sucks on Steve’s tongue.

Steve shoves a shaky hand between them, wraps it around himself. He’s slick from pre-cum and sweat, so hard that even this non-committal grip is threatening to push him over the edge. “Fucking hell, Eddie, I’m not gonna last.”

Eddie bites at Steve’s lower lip, drags his teeth hard enough to feel like it’ll bruise, and then sits back to stare down at him, eyes impossibly dark “You don’t come until I say so.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he nods jerkily, keeping his hand wrapped loosely around his cock, the other digging into the meat of Eddie’s thigh. Eddie grabs his hips and tugs Steve towards him. He repeats the motion, keeps his eyes trained on Steve’s face as he finds a rhythm, pulling Steve against him as he thrusts forward. The sound of their skin slapping together is borderline obscene, and it’s not long before Eddie’s movements become erratic and his grip tightens even more.

“Steve,” he says, his voice gravely low, “baby, I want you to come now.”

Eddie doesn’t ask him to keep his eyes trained on his face, but Steve does anyway as he tightens his hold on his cock and strokes himself once, twice, three times before he shudders, cries out, babbling Eddie’s name, and comes all over his stomach and chest.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes. “Fuuuuck.”

His thrusts get rougher, arms looped around Steve’s knees to keep him there, to pull him back. It’s almost too much for Steve now that he’s come, everything so sensitive, but Eddie is watching him intently, teeth digging into his bottom lip. When Eddie comes, his hands shift and he digs his fingers into Steve’s thighs, squeezing hard enough to make Steve whine. Eddie’s hips stutter as he groans, low and broken and beautiful.

As Steve watches him, transfixed, he knows he’s really fucked up.

Maybe this is what Eddie meant about being ruined for anyone else. Maybe Steve’s been ruined this whole time and didn’t even know it until right then.

They don’t speak while they slowly disentangle. Steve grabs his t-shirt to wipe himself off while Eddie removes the condom and ties it before tossing it into the garbage bin next to Steve’s desk. They still don’t speak as they both fall back on the bed, Eddie surprisingly shifting onto his side so he’s facing Steve. Steve reaches over slowly and combs Eddie’s sweaty hair away from his face. The other man’s got his eyes closed, lips tilted into a frown, so Steve stays quiet even though he wants to know what Eddie’s thinking.

Eddie presses his forehead against Steve’s arm and sighs, breath ghosting agains his skin. “Prolly shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs. “Sorry.”

“Sorry, he says,” Eddie mutters, and Steve can feel him shaking his head. “You’re a piece of fucking work, Harrington.”

Steve’s heart feels like it’s in his throat. He licks at his lips, tries to control his breathing. “Tell me how to fix this, Eddie.”

Eddie’s silent for a few moments. When he speaks, there’s sadness mixed with disappointment in his voice. “Dunno if you can.”

“Can’t I?” Steve asks, and this time the emotion is there, thick and making the words tremble as they leave his lips. He pushes himself up onto his elbow, which jostles Eddie a bit, and looks down at him. The other man’s hair has fallen over part of his face again, but Steve doesn’t need to see his face to tell that he’s stiffened up. “Can’t I fix it? I’m willing, man. I’m ready to do the fucking work. What — just tell me what to do. I miss you, Eddie. I miss you so much and I am, have still been in lov—“

Steve barely registers that the other man has pushed himself up into somewhat of a sitting position until Eddie’s hand slaps over his mouth, shoving the words back down.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he snarls. Eddie’s eyes are over-bright and dangerous in the light, and Steve thinks he sees his chin tremble, just the slightest bit. “You don’t get to do that. Fuck you, man. Fuck you.”

And then Eddie’s out of bed, dragging his clothes on, and Steve doesn’t even have it in him to do anything but fall back against the pillow. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling as emotion wells in his chest and fills his lungs, makes it hurt to even think about breathing.

Eddie doesn’t say goodbye. He doesn’t say anything. The door opens and shuts and then he’s gone, and Steve is still just laying there, naked and sweaty and rendered open on his bed, the taste and smell of Eddie still clogging his senses.

Steve’s pretty sure he hears the front door open and shut a few minutes later. He drags himself up, too numb and heavy to even cry, and grabs the set of pajamas he got out for Eddie. His body aches, muscles still jumpy and weak.

He goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and rinse off in the shower. He feels like he’s on autopilot, numb and mechanical. He considers just going back to bed, but then he thinks about the sheets, about the smell of sex and Eddie, and tiptoes to Robin’s room instead. Her door is cracked open, lamp light leaking into the hall.

“Steve?” she murmurs sleepily. “Is that you? Took you long enough.”

He steps into her bedroom and closes the door behind him quietly. When he turns looks at her, Robin’s eyebrows jump up, but then her face falls.

“Steve,” she repeats. “Did—“

“Yep,” he says, tone bordering on hysterical. “Yep, and he left.”

Robin’s frown is wobbly. She pulls her comforter back and pats the mattress. “C’mon, babe, into bed.”

She doesn’t ask any more questions, just curls towards him when he slides in next to her and pets his head until he falls into a deep and dreamless sleep.

****

In the morning, Robin pushes Steve back into the haven of sheets and pillows when he moves to get up with her, murmuring to him gently about needing more rest. Steve blinks at her blearily but listens, and before he falls back asleep, he hears the kids’ voices drifting down the hall.

He’s awake when she comes back a while later, sitting up in her bed and wrapped up in a quilt she tried to make several years ago during a knitting phase. It’s lopsided and the colors don’t quite fade appropriately, but it screams Robin and she’d been so proud of it.

“So,” she says, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked. “The kids all went out to lunch. They were confused as to why Eddie was gone when they got up, guess Dustin and Will were too knocked out to notice him leaving, but I gave some bullshit answer because I am definitely not the one to explain what happened.”

Steve scrubs a hand over his face. He feels hollow except for the guilt that’s welling up over him ruining the kids’ visit with Eddie.

“What did happen, exactly?” she finally asks. The million dollar question.

Steve sighs. “It just escalated so quickly. He asked me to clarify what I said to him on the phone a few weeks back and I told him I’d been in love with him.”

“And then you fucked each other’s brains out?”

Steve chokes out a laugh. “No. He told me I ruined him for other people and then we fucked each other’s brains out.”

“Jesus,” Robin mutters, eyes widening. “Well, that’s definitely a thing to say.”

Steve swallows. “I really fucked this up.”

Her expression softens. “As annoyed as I am about your terrible decision making, it takes two to tango, Steve. This is as much on Eddie as it is on you.”

“I tried to tell him that I loved him,” Steve admits quietly. “After sex. I told him I wanted to fix what I’d done and that I loved him.”

“Well, shit.”

Steve hunches forward and laughs again, pressing his fingers against his forehead where a headache is starting to form. “He slapped a hand over my mouth, Rob. Literally wouldn’t let me get the words out.”

“Man, that’s… a lot.” She pauses and tilts her head. “Was it good? The sex, I mean.”

“It was so fucking good,” Steve groans, pulling the quilt up to his face. “So good.”

“Damn. I was hoping you’d say mediocre at best. What’re you gonna do, Steve?”

Another million dollar question. “We obviously need to talk, but I don’t think trying to do that right now is a good idea. He was… really upset.”

“And the movie? That’s tomorrow night, right?”

“Yeah, and Dustin will kill me if I bail,” he huffs. “At least we can ignore each other and sit with 4 people between us.”

“Guess that gives you some time to figure out how you’re gonna keep it together,” she says as she comes towards the bed and plops down, jostling Steve. “Eddie’s gotta work tonight, so he’s not going to be joining the downtown festivities anyway.”

“Okay,” Steve replies lamely and leans against her. “I’m 35. I’m too old for this.”

Robin shrugs. “Age is just a number, dingus. Plus, all of our childhoods were fucked up a little too much. Sexuality, interdimensional monsters, the apocalypse, shit parents. Ya know, the works.”

“What’s that have to do with this?”

“All of that shit fucked us up, Steve. Like, a lot. You’re 35, but you spent your golden teenage years alone in your big house protecting a bunch of kids from literal monsters with no one to protect you. Age, normal milestones, they don’t apply to us the same way. We cope differently.” Her face contorts into something frustrated. “It kinda pisses me off that Eddie isn’t taking that into account, actually. He should get it.”

Steve mulls on that for a moment. She’s not wrong. Steve’s talked about that in therapy — not the monsters, but the complete and utter lack of safety and protection he experienced as a kid. It’s why his relationships with all of them — Robin, Nance, Jonathan, the kids, Hopper and Joyce — are cemented in his life. He’s been through literal hell with them, knows he can count on them and doesn’t need to exist in hypervigilance mode all the time. They’re safe in the way that he can be Steve and not some cobbled together version of himself to fit other people’s expectations and experiences.

Eddie had been that, too, but Steve had let him go. With everyone else, it was a boon, a balm, but with Eddie, love had apparently been unsafe and unstable.

He should probably talk to his therapist more about that.

“You okay?” Robin asks, looping an arm around him.

“I dunno. What I do know is that was a pretty enlightened thing to say.”

“I’ve been meditating,” Robin replies and then snorts. “C’mon, get dressed. I’ll make some coffee, we can eat, throw your sheets in the wash, and then go walk around with the kids in the cold for six hours.”

“Sounds amazing,” Steve mutters, but he gets up anyway.

***

Steve has a strange relationship with Christmas and holidays in general. His parents were gone for them often enough, and when they were home and able to decorate, his mother focused more on the aesthetic than sentimentality or celebration. There had been a lot of golds and silvers and pale blues and none of the bright colors, red and green and flashing lights, that others families used. His view of the holidays was muted. Muted and lonely and suffocating.

It’s been different since becoming enmeshed with the Henderson and Hopper-Byers households, but there’s still that touch of sadness, the scars of what could have been, and it feels a bit worse this year with this thing with Eddie.

So, he’s not thrilled about having to go out, but he does it and is glad because the kids — full-grown adults — are acting like they’re going to a theme park. They can still grab onto that childlike wonder and it helps ease the sadness back.

Steve went to fairs and shit as a kid, but nothing really prepared him for the way Chicago did things. Entire city blocks were closed off for bands, food stalls, people selling fancy, expensive candles. The Christkinlemarket in particular draws people from all over the Midwest because it’s packed not only with cool things to buy, but also overflowing with German food and warm drinks.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to drag himself out of the storm clouds of this thing with Eddie, but walking around the busy streets with the kids and Robin, stopping at stalls and eating too much sausage and cheese while drinking enough mulled wine to numb his mouth a little… it definitely heals some of the hurt.

They find El a beautifully knit hat that she tugs onto her head, beaming, and Mike gets her a matching scarf and mittens. Dustin and Will buy a bunch of handmade ornaments for their moms, and Dustin also buys a very orate cuckoo clock that he can’t decide if he’ll actually give to his mom to keep for himself. Steve and Robin buy matching beer steins. Robin and Will spend entirely too much money at a shop that sells body lotion candles and make lewd comments to each other about it the rest of the time. They go see the giant tree, and walk past stores with insanely detailed and themed window decorations, theming from Disney princesses to Garfield, and it’s just laughter and fun.

Steve just really fucking loves them all.

Later that night, they order Chinese and play board games at the apartment while One-Eyed Jack drapes himself over Dustin’s lap and bats the the board game pieces. Robin’s texting on her tiny phone for a part of the evening, her nose scrunched up in that thinking-too-hard and focusing-too-hard way, but she doesn’t share and Steve doesn’t pry. Dustin does, though, constantly asking “are you texting your girlfriend?” until Robin swats him upside the head.

He plans to sleep with Robin again because he’s a big baby, so he gives Will and Dustin the option to crash in his bed. Will is fine on the pullout, but Dustin jumps at the chance, lamenting about his old bones and arthritis from sitting at computer all day.

“Next time stay in a hotel and don’t go through my shit,” Steve says before going to turn off the kitchen light and pad back to Robin’s room.

“Good?” she asks, turning towards him with a concerned tilt to her mouth.

He turns towards her and nods, smiling softly. “Good.”

And he is, but there’s still an undercurrent of anxiety running through him the next morning, and it continues to buzz until they’re leaving for the theater. El gets the front seat, the three boys crammed in the back, with the expectation that Eddie’s going to meet them at the theater.

It’s the day before Christmas Eve so it’s busy, loads of people on the street and waiting outside the theater, but Steve spots Eddie immediately. He’s standing against the building, one knee bent with his boot flush against the brick, his hair whipping around his face from the icy wind. There’s something about him that makes him stand out in a crowd, Steve thinks. Or maybe he just stands out to Steve.

Fuck.

“Eddie!” Dustin yells as they cross the street, nearly walking in front of a car before Steve grabs his collar and yanks him back. “How fucking excited are you?”

“I’ve nearly smoked a cigarette like five times already,” Eddie jokes and greets everyone. When he gets to Steve, something complicated and sad flashes across his face. He just offers a nod, the flush on his cheeks deepening as he quickly looks away.

Steve gets their tickets and then they’re waiting in line for concessions. Eddie’s at the front chatting with Will and Mike, and El is standing off to the side staring intently at the candy display. Dustin stands next to Steve and just stares at the side of his face until Steve finally sighs and turns.

“I got something on my face, Henderson?”

“What’s going on with you and Eddie?” he asks, blessedly keeping his voice low.

“Not this again, man. Nothing’s going on.”

“Steve, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re a shit liar.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You tell me that all the time.”

Dustin taps his chest, right over his heart. “I’m a true friend so I tell the truth.”

“A true friend would drop this line of questioning since I asked I’m to.”

“Fine, but let me just say this—“

“Oh god, why can’t you stop talking—“

“You’ve both been, like, content, but not really happy in years.”

Steve inhales so hard he chokes on his own spit. “What?”

“I just want you to be happy, man. You deserve it. We all do, after the shit we went through. And I’m not completely clueless, okay? You’re both my best friends, I know your stupid expressions and I hear the shit you don’t say, and there is a thing happening, that much is obvious. Murray would be chewing the two of you out right now if he was here. Maybe we should call him.”

“Absolutely not!” Steve hisses. “Dustin, seriously.”

“I just want you to be happy,” Dustin repeats, more solemn this time.

Steve curls his hands into fists and stares down at his shoes, trying to breathe deeply. Dustin lets it happen and doesn’t say anything, but Steve can feel his beady little stare boring into the side of his face again like a laser beam.

When he looks up, his eyes find Eddie immediately. The other man is watching them, an unreadable expression on his face. Steve flicks his gaze away, back to Dustin, who’s just regarding him with a raised brow and an I told you expression that’s somehow also chock full of love and affection.

“We gotta figure this one out on our own, Dustybun,” Steve says and drapes an arm over his shoulders, unsettling Dustin enough that he almost trips. They start to move forward as the line does. “I do appreciate it, though. That you care and want me to be happy. It means a lot.”

“Of course I want my mother to be happy, Steven,” Dustin exclaims, loud and affronted in a dramatic way that causes all four of the others to look at them now with varying degrees of concern, amusement, and annoyance.

Steve shakes his head. “This is why El is my favorite child, followed by Max and then Will.”

El beams at him and then says, “I would like Rasinettes, please.”

“Anything for my favorite,” Steve croons and ruffles Dustin’s hair before he lets him go and walks towards El.

“I can buy her the Rasinettes,” Mike deadpans, looking at Steve like he’s the stupidest person.

“Let me have this, Wheeler, Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, Wheeler,” El repeats, tucking into Steve’s side and sticking her tongue out at her soon-to-be husband. “Let him have this.”

Will and Dustin laugh at Mike’s spectacular eye roll. Even Eddie cracks a smile, which Steve doesn’t look at head-on, just catches out of the corner of his eye.

Popcorn, candy, and soda in hand, they head into the theater. They knew finding space for all of them to sit together would be difficult if they didn’t show up ahead of time, so the seats are only about half full, allowing them to snag a nearly centered set of six near the back of the theater. Steve sits next to El, and as expected, Eddie is all the way on the other end with Dustin. They’ve both got their heads together, talking excitedly. Steve can’t help the soft smile that tugs on his lips as he sinks back into the uncomfortable chair. He’s glad they get to nerd out to this together.

El suddenly reaches over and grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. When Steve turns to look at her, she’s wearing a gentle, fond expression.

“I do not have to be inside of your head to know you are sad,” she says quietly. “Are you okay?”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “I will be.”

They all rotate out for bathroom breaks and popcorn refills before the movie starts, and the theater fills and fills until every seat is taken. Steve doesn’t look at Eddie. Dustin is all but vibrating out of his seat by the time the lights dim.

Steve had some feelings listening to the book, of course, but watching the film is something else. He’s always been more easily gripped by visuals, and yeah, something grips him, wraps around his heart and squeezes as the plot fleshes out and Frodo Baggins is enmeshed in saving the world without being given a choice. Steve wonders how he would feel if he hadn’t been dragged in similarly. If his relationship with Nancy had never happened, if Barb never went missing in his pool, if he hadn’t gotten the shit beaten out of him by Jonathan and ended up at his boobytrapped house to apologize just in time to learn that monsters did exist before he made use of his jock skills and gripped the smooth handle of a bat.

He never asked for it. None of them did. He forgets that, sometimes, especially after so much time and distance. And yet, he knows in his bones that he wouldn’t trade it and his family — his fellowship, forged in a literal nightmare — for anything. He wishes desperately, for a tiny moment, that Eddie was next to him in the darkness, and then he lets himself get re-imersed in the story.

The romance stings a bit in a weird way. Robin’s right, he’s always been a stupid romantic, and what hits home better than a love story about immortality and danger. He manages to push that twinge aside and not look at Eddie.

El holds his hand again when Gandalf falls into the dark depths of the Mines of Moria. He’s not sure if it’s for his comfort or for her own, but it doesn’t matter. She sniffles a bit and Steve is sure she’s thinking on the parallels, too, of the time Hopper made the hero play beneath the mall.

They don’t let go of each other’s hands for the rest of the film.

The credits roll, and then the lights fade back on slowly. The theater erupts into chaos as people start talking. His group stays seated, though, waits for the crowds to disperse before they finally stand and shuffle out. Dustin is talking a mile a minute at Eddie, bouncing on his feet and practically hanging off of the other man, and Will and Mike are listening and laughing and chiming in, the same undercurrent of excitement palpable. Steve hangs behind the foursome with El, who loops her arm through his.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Hits a little too close to home, maybe, but I did enjoy it,” Steve says and smiles down at her. “Did you?”

“Maybe I will be Galadriel for Halloween next year,” she replies thoughtfully.

“Who would I dress up as?”

She blinks up at him and looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Aragorn.”

Steve actually blushes as he laughs. “Me? No way. I’m not Aragorn.”

“You’re definitely Aragorn,” Will calls over his shoulder, grinning brightly.

Dustin spins on his heel so he can face them while walking backwards, pointing at Steve and nearly smacking Mike in the head. “King Steve! Yes! The one true king with the character arc of all character arcs. You’re definitely Aragorn, and Will is totally Frodo.”

Will snorts and bumps shoulders with Mike. “You’re definitely my Sam, then.”

Steve’s face screws up. “No, I veto that one. Like, I get it from the friend perspective, but Mike’s kind of an asshole and Sam is like… legit the hero of the story.”

“Hey!” Mike yells and whacks Steve in the arm.

Dustin clasps his hands together, positively gleeful. “I fucking love nerd Steve, oh my god. Sam is totally the hero of the story. We need to talk about this more. I have dissertations—”

Steve rolls his eyes and tries to fight his smile. “You’re gonna fall and hurt someone if you keep walking like that, moron.”

Dustin just grins wide and says “okay mom” as he spins around and keeps yammering as they leave the darkened hall and step back into the bright lobby. Steve hears something about Robin being Arwen, which he’s not sure he agrees with, and Mike and Dustin argue about if Dustin would be Merry or Pippin. Steve tries not to stare at the back of Eddie’s head. He’s been quiet, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket since they stood up. It makes Steve’s skin itch. He wants him to enjoy this as much as the kids.

When they get outside, Eddie gives them a two-fingered wave as he rocks back on his heels. “All right, guys and gal, this is where we part ways.”

“You don’t want to hang out?” Dustin asks, disappointment evident. “We’re gonna watch Christmas movies tonight.”

Eddie’s smile is gentle but strained. “Sorry, my man, but I’ve got other plans.”

Steve looks away.

“But we’re driving out to Hawkins tomorrow after we drop El, Mike, and Will at the airport. Wayne’s visiting you, right? You won’t be in Hawkins?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters, shoulders inching up towards his ears. “Sorry, man. Maybe we can do breakfast tomorrow? I know a good diner.”

There’s some back and forth about timing, and then the kids each hug Eddie goodbye. He looks at Steve, expression guarded but still somehow pained, and says nothing, offers nothing. Just turns and walks away, dark curls flailing in the wind.

No one says anything, but Steve feels like a piece of shit. He’d promised Dustin it wouldn’t be weird and yet here they are, the weirdness skyrocketing off the fucking charts. He also feels like a piece of shit in all the ways that poke and prod at his abandonment issues, but he refuses to let that be more important because he did this to himself.

They still have a fun evening, though. They drink spiked egg nogg, attempt to make gingerbread cookies that end up burnt and deformed but edible, and watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, which Steve and Robin sing along to. They exchange gifts and call Joyce and Hopper, then Nancy, then Jonathan. Robin is texting on her phone a chunk of the time, ignoring Dustin every single time he tries to insert himself and ask if its her new girlfriend. She snarks back but remains cagey about it. Steve doesn’t pry.

He sleeps in his own bed, technically, but doesn’t actually sleep most of the time.

He doesn’t go out to breakfast the next morning, either, despite Robin’s insistence.

“They should get to enjoy some time with Eddie without it being awkward, Rob, and it is. Awkward.”

She sighs and cups his cheek. “And you’re hurting. You can admit that, too. Your feelings matter here, dingus.”

“And I’m hurting,” Steve whispers and presses against her palm for a moment before stepping back. “Bring me back some pancakes.”

She ruffles his hair. “Anything for you, babe.”

They’re gone for two hours, and when they get back, no one mentions Eddie, but Robin’s got a jittery edge to her movements as she shoves clothes into a duffle because she didn’t pack beforehand and they’ve got to get on the road if they want to get to Hawkins at a reasonable time.

Steve drops Mike, Will, and El at the airport, then drives back to pick up Robin and Dustin. Robin’s parents, like Dustin’s mom, are still in Hawkins. The drive is a little over two hours and it’s pleasant enough even though once they’re past Chicago’s Downtown skyline, the world gets flat and bland. Dustin falls asleep in the backseat while he and Robin trade off controlling the radio. She’s still stewing, he can tell, but she doesn’t offer to talk about it.

Claudia Henderson welcomes him with open arms and it feels a bit like home. Steve spends Christmas Eve with Robin’s family who absolutely adore him despite years and years of confusion regarding his and Robin’s relationship, then wakes to presents from Dustin and Claudia under a lit, brightly decorated tree Christmas morning. There’s still that aching void in his chest, the little tug of desperate want plus the coil of self-hatred, but Steve is reminded at times like this that even if he doesn’t have some grand love — even if he never has it, not again, not with Eddie or anyone — he is loved.

He remembers a time when he had no love to speak of. What he has now? It’s pretty fucking great.

The day after Christmas, he and Robin drive back to Chicago, leaving Dustin to spend a few more days with Claudia.

The week between Christmas and New Years is a slog. Robin is working but Steve isn’t. He remembers loving summer and winter break as a kid. As an adult, he hates all the extra free time he has for his mind to run marathons. He spends a lot of it listening to the next book in the Lord of the Rings trilogy and meets up with some other colleagues who are also out of their mind with boredom or need to get their kids out of the house. He bakes a bit, because it’s something he’s come to enjoy, weirdly enough, and watches a lot of television with Jack sprawled in his lap.

Steve isn’t one for going out much anymore, but Robin drags him to a New Year’s Eve party at a gay club with a a few of their queer friends. It’s loud and there’s glitter everywhere and Steve knows he’s going to be hungover and sore from dancing the next morning, but it’s nice to let loose. It’s nice to let the bass be the reason his stomach is swooping.

He gets two glasses of champagne and finds Robin close to midnight for their annual midnight No Hetero Smooch, as Robin likes to call it. Even in the strangely dim and yet colorful lightning, he can tell there’s something off about her expression. He hands her a glass of the champagne and leans in, lips next to her ear.

“Is everything okay?” he yells over the music.

“Yep!” she yells back.

“You’re totally lying, Rob!”

She blinks at him, her eyeliner smeared and chunks of large confetti in her hair, and then smiles in a way that’s both affectionate and anxious.

He’s about to demand they step outside when the countdown starts.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

Steve yells the numbers out with everyone else, his gaze still locked on Robin’s face, but she’s looking past him, eyes wide and her smile taking on a relieved curve before it transitions into what Steve recognizes as her smug expression.

…three, two, one! Happy New Year!

The entire club erupts with whistles and screaming and more music. Confetti and party hats are tossed into the air. People kiss, and before a stranger can snag his first kiss of 2002, Steve leans down to press a wet kiss to Robin’s cheek.

“Happy New Year, Buckley!” he yells over the noise and laughs a little when she beams up at him. “I love you!”

“Happy New Year, dingus!” she replies and kisses him back, then lingers next to his ear. “And I love you, too! Please don’t be mad!”

“Mad?” he starts, confused. “Why would I be mad?”

She plucks the champagne flute out of his hand, only spilling a bit, and he starts to reach for it, annoyed and confused, but someone’s fingers curl around his wrist and tug him backwards so he’s twisting into their arms.

Steve sees a mane of dark hair and even darker eyes before their lips crash together.

Steve’s fingers curl into the lapels of Eddie’s leather jacket and he doesn’t even think, just pours everything he can into the kiss, tugging the other man as close as possible because he doesn’t know what this means and it could still be the last time Steve gets to touch him. He doesn’t really know what a goodbye kiss with Eddie feels like, not really, but he doesn’t want to risk this being it.

When Eddie pulls back, they’re both breathing heavy. Steve searches his face, panic crawling through his chest and stomach. It’s insidious, the thought that this is some joke, that it is a goodbye, that he’s imagining it and Eddie isn’t here.

Eddie leans back into his space until they’re cheek to cheek and asks, voice pitched high enough for him to hear, “Outside?”

Steve nods jerkily. Eddie grabs his hand, his hold sure, and tugs Steve towards the entrance of the club. They push their way through the crowd, passed a grinning Robin who downs both glasses of champagne quickly before making a cheers motion to Steve and disappearing.

It’s cold and Steve hadn’t brought a coat, but he’s sweating and feels flushed from head to toe, so the chill is welcome and grounding. Eddie pulls him down the street, away from the other people smoking outside, and doesn’t stop until they can tuck into the doorway of a closed cigar shop.

Eddie turns towards him, his expression guarded. It makes something vicious rise up in Steve’s throat. Is this a goodbye? An official I can’t forgive you?

Before either of them can speak, Steve’s phone starts ringing. He glimpses a really, you’re gonna answer that? look on Eddie’s face before e closes his eyes for a moment to quell the increasing anxiety before he pulls it out. It’s Dustin, of course. Steve holds the phone out for Eddie to see the caller ID. He rolls his eyes but nods and gestures for Steve to take the call.

“Hey, Henderson,” Steve says, not breaking eye contact with Eddie. “Happy New Year, man.”

“Happy New Year, dude! Also, and this is important so listen this time—“ Dustin’s definitely drunk “—we need to plan to see the next Lord of the Rings film!“

“Dustin, buddy, I love you, but I’m not talking about seeing a film that doesn’t come out for almost twelve months.”

Eddie’s expression softens and he scrunches his nose in an effort not to smile. It makes Steve’s stomach do a little swoop.

“But you’ll forget if I don’t tell you,” Dustin whines. “Steeeeveeee.”

“And I’m not at home with my planner, so maybe remind me tomorrow when I am.”

Dustin exhales dramatically. “Okay, fine, loser. I forgot you’d need your planner, my bad.” He snorts inelegantly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take some Aspirin and make sure you drink water before bed.”

“Okay, mom! Love you!”

“Love you too, man.”

Steve shoves the phone back into his pocket and clears his throat. “Sorry. He would have just kept calling, if I didn’t pick up.”

“Oh, I know,” Eddie replies with a smirk. “There’s a reason my phone’s on silent. He usually calls me, too.”

Steve tilts his head slightly. “I didn’t know I’d need to put my phone on silent.”

“I know. But I wanted to see you, talk to you. I’ve been thinking about you.” Eddie says it all casually, like it’s not making Steve’s already fizzling insides twist and turn. “Since the movie. ”

“The movie?”

“Fellowship of the Rings,” Eddie clarifies with a huff. “The kids are right, you’re definitely Aragorn.”

Steve sputters out an incredulous breath. “Is that what you came here to tell me? That you’ve officially casted me as a fictional character?”

Steve sees amusement in Eddie’s gaze. “No. I also came to tell you that I’ve officially casted myself and I’m the Boromir.”

Steve closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath of icy air. He might actually cry. They’re not even ten minutes into 2002 and he might start crying in the cold on some empty street with the love of his life standing there making nerd talk while Steve’s confused heart breaks down further.

“What the fuck, dude,” he manages. “I had a few drinks, you’re going to have to break this down for me.”

Eddie’s hand comes up and he cups Steve’s cheek, his thumb reaching out to stroke Steve’s bottom lip. “You lightweight,” he says fondly. “Boromir was a good dude, but he was self-righteous and easily swayed by his own self importance. He made the hero’s play in the end, but he nearly fucked everything up because he didn’t believe in Aragorn’s worth. Because he couldn’t stop thinking about only himself.”

Steve just stares at him.

“You really fucked me up, Steve. I was so stupidly in love with you. I would have done anything for you, but I kept waiting for you to see it, to see me, and it felt like I was invisible. So I snapped, and I wanted more, and I didn’t stop to think, even for a teeny tiny second, why you may not have been ready, even after all that time, to love me the way I loved you.”

“Robin must’ve yelled at you because that’s definitely her psychoanalysis,” Steve finally says, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know why I wasn’t ready, Eddie. So much had already changed, I was—“

“I know, baby,” Eddie murmurs, thumb stroking Steve’s lip again. “I sometimes forget that despite your fancy car and expensive clothes and huge house that no one ever loved you right. My life was fucked, but I at least had Wayne. Unconditional shit, y’know? You didn’t have anyone of actual fucking substance until a bunch of demons tossed a few pre-teens and Buckley into your life.”

Steve swallows against the wave of emotion threatening to pour up out of his mouth. His eyes are already stinging.

Eddie leans forward so their foreheads touch and when he speaks, his breath is warm against Steve’s face. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t fuck up. ‘Cause you really, really did. I was so mad at you, Steve. But then we got shoved back together, and you tried to tell me that you finally figured it out. You were so fucking late to the party, but you tried to tell me, and I didn’t want to hear it because I always thought my hurt was all that mattered.”

“She definitely yelled at you,” Steve sniffs.

“Buckley was pretty pissed at me,” Eddie admits a little sheepishly. “Knocked some sense into me ‘cause she was ready to gut me after we, y’know, did the deed. When I said it was just quid pro quo after how you hurt me, she said it wasn’t actually fair because you didn’t do it on purpose, but I was definitely hurting you on purpose. Your social worky magic’s rubbed off on her, I guess. She sounds so much smarter.”

Steve laughs but steps back to put some distance between them and scrubs a hand over his face. “I understand why you were angry, Eddie. I don’t — I don’t blame you. I never blamed you.”

“Aragorn didn’t blame Boromir, either,” Eddie says matter-of-factly. “A sign of kingly behavior.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, enough with the nerd analogies, man.”

Eddie scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Absolutely fucking not. That story was my childhood, Harrington. It’s how I coped with understanding the Upside Down bullshit. I got to see it on the big screen with my favorite kids and the love of my life, so no, I’m not going to set it aside.”

Heat floods Steve’s cheeks. “Uh.”

Slowly, a grin spreads across Eddie’s face, bringing out his dimples and laugh lines and the mischievous twinkle that Steve’s missed like a fucking limb. Without preamble, he drops down onto one knee and looks up at Steve through his eyelashes.

“I accept you as my one true king. My King Steve. If you’ll have me, of course,” he adds cheekily with a wink.

When Steve just balks down at him, he raises a brow.

“Any day now, my liege. We’re not 20 anymore, man, my knees can only take so much kneeling and if you want any kneeling to happen later—“

Steve reaches down and hoists Eddie up. The other man nearly trips and laughs out a startled breath, which devolves into a moan when Steve shoves him back against the brick and kisses him.

“You wanna come back to my place?” Eddie murmurs against his lips.

Eddie’s place is a decent sized studio. The walls are covered in framed movie and band posters, several of which he recognizes from years ago when they lived together, and an entire corner of the space is filled with guitar cases and amps. There’s enough room for a bed, a small two seater couch, a television, and a bookshelf that’s got an array of books, DVDs, records, and CDs stacked on it haphazardly. It’s lived in, cozy, cramped. It screams Eddie.

Eddie kicks off his shoes and sheds his jacket, which gets stashed into a small closet near the front door. Steve stands there and surveys the place, then surveys Eddie as he moves around furniture to turn on a lamp and then turn the overhead light off. Without asking, he then glides to the small kitchen and opens the fridge to pull out two bottles of water. He hands one to Steve as he finally toes off his shoes and follows Eddie over to the couch.

“What’re you thinking about?” Eddie asks, shifts so he’s facing Steve, his back pressed to the arm of the couch and one leg bent up on the couch cushion. His knee brushes Steve’s thigh.

Steve turns his head to look at him. “Still in a bit of shock, honestly.”

Eddie looks sad for a moment, but it’s brief. “Yeah, sorry. I never grew out of being a fucking drama queen, if that wasn’t completely obvious by literally every single way I’ve dealt with this whole thing.”

“I missed you,” Steve replies quietly, his eyes dragging across the planes of Eddie’s face. “I missed your dramatics and your laugh and the way you sang about everything you did as you were doing it.”

Eddie’s arm snakes over the back of the couch, fingertips just brushing against Steve’s hair. He rests his cheek against his bicep and regards Steve with a small smile. “I still sing literally all the time, and I missed you, too, Stevie.”

Steve licks his lips. “I should have reached out to you.”

Eddie shrugs a bit. “We both could have reached out. I almost did, when I heard that you came out of the closet.”

“To yell at me?” Steve jokes weakly.

“More like to ask, why not me?”

For all of Eddie’s earlier theatrics, Steve can see the thread of vulnerability now in the way the other man watches his face. He knows if he tugs too hard, it might unravel completely and too quickly. He recognizes that despite their surety about their feelings for one another, this is fragile. There’s a lot to be mended.

He shifts his body to mirror Eddie’s, head still pillowed on the back of the couch, legs pressed together, and reaches a hand in between them. Eddie meets him tentatively, petting Steve’s fingers.

“It was always you,” Steve says quietly. “It definitely wasn’t on you to do it, but I think if you’d called, I would have said something. The thought of calling you myself, though, of initiating that conversation…” He sighs. “I was a coward, man. There’s no way around it. You also…”

“I also what?” Eddie asks when Steve allows the thought to linger there.

“You said some shit, when you, y’know, finally cut me out,” Steve admits, feels the blush start to bloom on his cheeks. “That opened old wounds. I was terrified of being rejected, man. You know I’ve never been broken up with, since Nancy? Always been the one to leave.”

“Way to inspire confidence,” Eddie says, but the corner of his lips twitch up in the ghost of a smile. “What did I say? To spook you?”

“You said it was bullshit. Don’t get me wrong, it was, but the last time I loved someone, they told me it was all bullshit. Lots of wires crossed. Took me a while to uncross them as an adult, so when I figured it out…” Steve grimaces.

Eddie just stares at him.

“I know, man, it’s childish as fuck and absolute crap, but that’s where my head was at the time.”

“Wheeler said that to you?” Eddie finally hedges. “She told you it was bullshit when you told her you loved her?”

Steve raises a brow. “It was a rough time, and Nancy’s never been the type to parse her words, you know that.”

“Fuckin’ Nancy Wheeler,” Eddie sighs, shaking his head. “That woman has cockblocked me so many times with you, man. Jesus.”

Steve laughs before he can stop himself. “What are you even talking about?”

“In the Upside Down, I was sure I felt some vibes, but then you two had your weird moment and it was gone,” Eddie recounts, holding up one finger and then having a second join it. “I was going to make a move the night she broke up with Jonathan, but she called you of all people to cry to. Like, what the fuck? Who calls their ex to talk about another ex that they broke up with you for?”

Eddie holds up a third finger, angling his head dramatically. “I also almost confessed to you right after we moved to Indianapolis, but she and Robin visited for the weekend and god, seeing the two of you in each other’s orbit just pissed me off so much I ended up smoking myself into oblivion and playing records she hated. I couldn’t get you alone for shit.”

Steve leans forward and tucks one of Eddie’s curls behind his ear. His heart had quieted, but it’s kicked up again, a steady, insistent beat in his chest. “When else?”

“Apparently when you had your big gay awakening,” he grouses, but he’s smiling now. “I love Wheeler, but I hated her every time we all got together. Every time I built up enough courage to tell you how I felt, she came around and dashed it to pieces. She’s such a bad ass. How was I supposed to compete with that?”

As Eddie pouts, Steve wants to tell him that Nancy was the first love of the a boy who didn’t know who he was. Steve had been so unhappy back then, so desperate for love and affection to fill the void that his shitty personality and shitty friends and shitty parents with their shitty, empty mausoleum of a house left. He wants to tell Eddie that aside from Robin, his ride or die and literal soulmate, no one else has ever made him feel like himself aside from Eddie. No one else had inspired him to be himself. That had been Eddie, too, Eddie who wore his uniqueness like a badge and a shield.

But he doesn’t tell him those things. Not yet. They have time to work through things. The door’s open again.

“There’s no Nancy here now,” Steve hums instead.

Eddie’s flash of a grin is wicked. He leans the rest of the way forward to bring their lips together, arms encircling Steve’s waist. Eddie tugs until he’s straddling his lap, one leg dangling off the couch and the other shoved behind the cushion. It’s precarious and uncomfortable but Eddie’s below him, hands splayed across Steve’s back and holding him there, pressing him down, so Steve can’t find it in himself to care.

Eddie is grinding up against him when suddenly Steve’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket, the ringtone muffled by the denim. Steve and Eddie make eye contact.

“It can’t be,” Eddie says, voice rough but playful. “No. It can’t.”

Steve digs his phone out, still on top of Eddie, and looks at the screen. Of course it’s Nancy. She calls Steve every year on New Years when the clock strikes midnight, just like she calls Robin and Jonathan. Even though he expected it, Steve starts laughing before he can say anything, deep, belly laughs that make him shake.

“Gimme that fuckin’ phone.” Eddie grabs it out of his hand, checks the caller ID and sputters a bit, and then answers the call. “Wheeler, fuck off!”

Steve is wheezing, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He can hear Nancy’s, “Uh, Eddie? Is that you?”

Steve makes grabby hands for the phone and finally wrestles it back from Eddie, who stares up at him with narrowed eyes and rosy cheeks. His dark hair is spread across the arm of the couch and his lips are red. He’s so fucking beautiful that Steve almost forgets to actually say something into the phone.

“Hey, Nance, Happy Near Year,” Steve breathes, cupping Eddie’s cheek with his free hand.

“Sorry I’m calling late, I still forget about the time difference. Also, what the hell was that all about?” she asks, and in the background, Steve can hear party sounds. “Are you and Eddie back on speaking terms?”

Eddie turns his face into Steve’s palm and drags his tongue across it, slow and intentional. It should be gross, but Eddie does it in the most lewd way, maintaining eye contact and settling his hands on Steve’s hips so he can squeeze and tug him forward, grinding their crotches together. Steve has to bite back a moan, and that makes Eddie grin.

He manages to sound normal when he says, “You could say that.”

“Fucking finally,” Nancy snorts, and she sounds thrilled. “It’s taken you two long enough.”

Eddie’s expression darkens again. “Oh, she’s got a lotta nerve.”

Steve’s face hurts from grinning.

“Well, I’ll let you go, then, to get back to it,” she says, her insinuation clear. “Happy New Year to you both. Call me tomorrow!”

“Happy New Year! Talk to you later, Nance,” Steve responds, and then Eddie is immediately dragging him down for a split-slick, filthy kiss.

It’s different when Eddie takes him to bed this time. The reverence of his touch isn’t interspersed with anger, blame, and flashes of regret. Neither of them clamor like they’ll never have the chance again. Eddie takes Steve apart with care, opens him up with his tongue and fingers and cock until Steve is sobbing his release and Eddie’s swallowing his moans, licking the curses of pleasure out of his mouth while he chases his own pleasure.

The next morning, Steve is facedown in the pillow when his phone rings again. He rolls onto his side blearily and finds it on the floor, right next to the pile containing his pants and both his and Eddie’s boxers.

“I swear to fucking god, if that’s Wheeler,” Eddie grumbles next to him, tugging the blanket over his head while scooting in to spoon Steve and rest his forehead between his shoulder blades. He presses a few kisses there, a hand coming up so he can trail calloused fingers from Steve’s thigh to his ribcage and back down again, making Steve shiver.

“Hey, Rob,” Steve says when he answers.

“Breakfast?” she asks brightly, not even asking how things went. “I like the diner by Eddie’s. They have good hollandaise on their eggs benedict.”

Eddie’s hand curves over his hip and he squeezes, pulling Steve towards him until Eddie’s arousal is flush with his ass.

“Give us two hours.”

Robin gags. “Gross. Two hours, really? You can’t need two hours, Steve, you’re not 25 anymore. Also, we’re watching our chick flick marathon. Eddie’s welcome to join, but you’re not bailing on our years-long tradition for some dick.”

“I would never,” Steve laughs. “See you in a few hours. Love you, Buckley.”

“Love you, too, dingus. Two hours! Say hi to Eddie for me.”

Steve tosses his phone into the pile of clothes and rolls over, blanket and sheets rustling, until he’s facing Eddie. The other man regards him, eyes heavy-lidded and dark hair tangled around his face. Steve reaches out to curl his hand along Eddie’s neck, thumb rubbing at a distinct mouth-shaped bruise just below his jaw.

“Morning,” Steve murmurs. “Robin says hello.”

“Can I ask you a question before I blow you in the shower and then we go out for breakfast?”

Steve closes his eyes momentarily and inhales sharply through his nose, lust coursing through him. “Yeah.”

“It’s a serious one.”

Steve opens his eyes. “I’m seriously listening.”

“Are we doing this?” Eddie asks, eyebrows drawing down slightly. “I don’t wanna assume, y’know, but I can’t do this if it’s casual, man.“

Steve gives all of his nerd friends a lot of shit, but he’s always been the type to remember lines from movies and TV shows. Honestly, Eddie has no clue what he’s in for later, which is Steve and Robin basically quoting Sleepless in Seattle and You’ve Got Mail line by line. There are a few lines rolling around in Steve’s head from Fellowship of the Rings, so he grabs the sappiest one. He’s always good at remembering the sappiest ones. He’s a fucking diehard romantic, for better or for worse.

“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone. Did I get the line right?”

Eddie’s eyes widen and his face flushes the most beautiful shade of pink. Steve’s still got a hand on his neck and he can feel Eddie’s pulse speed up. “What the fuck, Steve,” he splutters.

“You’re the Arwen to my Aragorn,” Steve croons, grinning, and slides his hand into Eddie’s hair when he tries to turn his face into the pillow. “You’re too pretty to be Boromir. Come on, don’t try to hide from me when I’m declaring my love!”

“I’m embarrassed for you,” Eddie chokes out, the blush spreading down his neck and chest. “Who says shit like that, Harrington, fucking Christ!”

“You love me,” Steve whispers, using his grip on Eddie’s hair to angle his head so Steve can dip forward and press a kiss to his chin, then his cheek, then his nose.

All the tension leaves Eddie’s body in one fell swoop. “I do. I do love you.”

They both scoot forward, rearranging until their legs are tangled and their chests are flush together. Steve can feel Eddie’s heart hammering beneath his ribs. Eddie curves a hand around the back of Steve’s thigh, hiking it over his hip.

“Guess we’re stuck with each other. We’ve wasted enough time.”

Eddie hums contentedly against his lips, cheeks still splotchy pink. “I’m not going to complain about being cast as a sexy elf, but are you sure we’re not actually Frodo and Sam?”

“They did seem a bit gay, huh?” Steve muses, and Eddie cackles delightedly into his mouth.