Archive of Our Own

Eddie Munson had always been a cynic when it came to relying on other people. He was careful with choosing those he trusted, the people he let in. Time and time again others failed him at an early age, from apathetic teachers and counselors to mean kids who would pretend to be his friend only to bring him to tears at recess by throwing the figurines he’d brought to school in dirty puddles. It had begun with his parents, who, despite everything, he could never really grow to hate, not ever. Eddie knew, though he’d been young and still harbored a lot of contempt for his father for putting him through the tribulations he did, that his old man did mean well. Eddie had grown up to mostly kind parents, though oftentimes his mother had been too drifty and spaced out on drugs to actually pay attention to him or the bruises he’d come home with from bullies, long before Eddie learned fighting wasn’t his thing— he was scrawny and small; running much better suited him. His dad tried his best, Eddie knew, deep down, and he learned quickly to mirror his mother’s practiced action and turn the other cheek when Lip Munson would finally turn up at the front door, sometimes after being gone for days on end, with a fat wad of cash in hand. Don’t ask, his mother would say. Just be grateful.

Until one day, Lip Munson never came home, and Eddie had been told by a blur of adults from child protective services and cops and social workers to finally his own teary-eyed mother that Lip was in prison for manslaughter, that his mom was releasing Eddie to her brother-in-law because you’ll be happier there, mommy needs space, needs time to breathe. Eddie watched, unblinking, hand in Wayne’s in front of the trailer as his mother hit the gas and rubber burned, tires screeching on gravel as she just… left Eddie behind. Discarded him like he was an old sweater, stretched out and overworn. Never looking back. Eddie looked up at Wayne, confused, beseeching, upset. But his uncle just looked tired. Resigned, like he knew the day would come where his younger brother would land behind bars and would have Eddie dumped on him like the burden he is.

But that was the thing about Wayne Munson. He never did make Eddie feel like a burden. In fact, Wayne went out of his way to make Eddie feel quite the opposite, scraping together just enough cash to buy Eddie his first guitar when his nephew showed an interest at Starcourt’s music store. It was an old thing, the acoustic. Used and weathered, some strings fraying, tuning keys rusting. Much too big for Eddie. But he adored it nonetheless, eagerly tearing away at the wrapping of one of two presents under their Christmas tree. He cherished it and held it close, even sleeping with the guitar those first few nights until Wayne finally put his foot down after Eddie woke up with lines imprinted on his stupid, grinning face from guitar strings the third morning in a row. 

The other gift, wrapped haphazardly (though in Eddie’s defense, it wasn’t exactly an easily shaped thing to wrap) was for his uncle. A Garfield mug that Eddie had picked out at a yard sale, hiding it from Wayne as he paid the whole one dollar. Eddie didn’t think too much of it; he’d hardly known the man at that point, having only lived with him for a few weeks and exchanging incredibly minimal conversation. He found his uncle wasn't much of a talker. But Wayne showed love in other ways, ways where it mattered. He pulled his nephew in tight, hugging him close, and Eddie swore he heard the man sniffle behind Eddie’s back, though he couldn’t be sure. Eddie just wrapped his small arms around Wayne’s middle, and finally they detached after a few tender minutes. Wayne cleared his throat and gruffly ordered Eddie to sit at the table so they could finally dig into the pancakes he whipped up earlier, special for Christmas morning. Eddie decorated his with strawberries and plenty of cream, attempting to make Santa, or at least, some disfigured replication of the jolly man’s face.

From that moment on, Eddie Munson became decidedly less of a cynic, though he was still determined to be a cynic all the same. Just… a cynic who loved his uncle. A cynic who loved playing the guitar, who loved reading fantasy, who loved playing D&D, who loved escaping into magic. 

Yes, Eddie Munson put a great deal of thought into choosing the select few who’d get a glimpse under his weathered exterior, past the hardened shell he’d cultivated to convince the world he didn’t care about the cruelties he’d been thrown, that he was wholly and utterly fine in the grand scheme of things. He was loud and brash and confident, unapologetically himself, never not able to put on a show, though it had taken him a while to get to that point. But beyond the endless caverns of his soul, deep within his chest, he still harbored that little boy, cradled him protectively and kept him close and safe and out of view from anyone who would betray him, hurt him like he had been before. Hurt by his parents, hurt temporarily by a confident young boy with big hair and Nike sneakers.

Steve Harrington hadn’t meant to hurt Eddie all those years ago, back in middle school when the two had grown close like moths to a flame only to fizz out just as quickly as they’d come together. 

They had been assigned as partners for a social studies project and Eddie timidly introduced himself after class, shifting uncomfortably in his sneakers that suddenly looked very dirty in front of Steve’s pristine Nikes. But Steve paid no mind, so Eddie tried not to either.

“Dude, we’ve been in class together all year. I know you,” Steve laughs. Eddie chuckles awkwardly, internally reeling at the fact that not only did Steve Harrington, Hawkins Middle School’s golden boy, acknowledge his presence, but knew him, knew Eddie, meaning he thought about Eddie, that Eddie existed in Steve’s brain.

“Wanna come over on Friday?” He asks smoothly. Like he hasn’t got a care in the world, and maybe he doesn’t. Eddie wouldn’t know, all he can see are the twin moles dotting the apple of Steve’s tawny-skinned cheek, the curve of his nose, the sharp planes of his jawline. That glorious head of fluffy brown hair, done up with an unnatural swoop. “Parents won’t be home. We’ll have the whole house to ourselves. I can order pizza,” he adds, when Eddie doesn’t respond.

“Um— yeah, okay. Cool,” Eddie coughs, clearing his throat. “I’m down for pizza.” He cringes, wishing he hadn’t added that last part.

“Rad,” Steve says easily. “You can ride the bus home with me. And your folks can pick you up whenever. No parents, so no curfew, ya know?” He says the last part with a wink, obviously trying to be funny, but it makes Eddie’s ears go pink. 

“Steve! Let’s go, dude,” a freckle-faced Tommy Hagan calls from the end of the hallway where he stands with a few other boys, collars popped and sneakers white. Eddie fights off an eye roll. 

“Shit, I gotta go,” Steve says. He begins to walk backwards, holding Eddie’s gaze as he yells “See ya Friday, Eds!”

Eds. He had said it so nonchalantly, so effortlessly, like it was a nickname he used for Eddie all the time because the two were great pals, best buds. Eddie just stands there, gawking in the hallway, backpack hanging tight over both his shoulders. Until finally a burly eighth grader elbows him, jeers at Eddie to get out of the way. He scrambles away hastily, mind in a tizzy. Eds.

After school on Friday, Eddie waits for Steve by the bus dock, hands clammy and heart hammering in his chest. 

“Hey!” Steve calls, strolling up to Eddie, backpack slung over one shoulder. It looks empty, Eddie thinks, like Steve only has one folder for all his classes or something. It would make sense, considering Eddie’s noticed how he’s always asking others for a pencil. Multiple people usually end up offering their writing utensils when Steve asks.

“So annoying that we have to take the bus. My mom usually drives me, but she went with my dad on his business trip this weekend,” Steve says with an eye roll.

“You’re alone all weekend?” Eddie’s brows skyrocket. He had figured Steve’s parents would just be away for the evening, not for several days.

Steve shrugs easily. “Yeah. It’s great. I get to do whatever I want,” he replies, puffing out his chest. Eddie wonders if that’s really true, wonders if he imagines the hint of sadness in Steve’s admission.

Eddie removes his shoes by the front door when entering the Harrington household, like he always does at his and Wayne’s trailer. He notices Steve doesn’t, instead just kicks them off lazily in the living room after throwing his backpack onto one of several massive sofas. Eddie takes in the ginormous Christmas tree, neatly decorated with curated, color-coordinated ornaments that make it look like it belongs in a Sears catalog. It's far different from his and Wayne’s, adorned with handmade decorations and random trinkets Eddie had found by rummaging through yard sales or on the side of the road and insisting belonged on the tree. Wayne would sigh every time, but strung them up nonetheless, smiling to himself at Eddie's enthusiasm.

“You hungry?” Steve asks. 

Eddie nods.

Steve makes his way to the kitchen, and Eddie awkwardly follows, not knowing what else to do. Steve picks up the phone and orders a pizza with practiced ease, and Eddie eyes the wad of cash on the counter. Probably left behind by his parents to take care of anything Steve needed while they were gone. Like if they left enough money, their absence would be acceptable, excused by the cash hastily thrown behind. Funny how it never is, Eddie thinks darkly. 

Steve notices Eddie looking around. “Want a tour?” 

Eddie nods again. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit curious to see what the rest of the house looked like. Steve beckons for Eddie to follow him, and they make their way around the maze that is the Harrington home. Steve comments on random things and Eddie listens intently, captivated by the confident way in which the other boy speaks. They end the tour with a room on the far end of the upstairs hallway, tucked away in the corner. Steve opens the double doors with a timidness he hadn’t displayed before, which makes Eddie burn with curiosity. He peeks inside— it’s an office.

“‘M not allowed in here, but,” Steve says breathlessly, stepping inside, “what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?” He laughs like he doesn’t care, but Eddie is starting to think he does, maybe slightly. 

Eddie follows cautiously, wordlessly, as he looks around at the expensive, heavy mahogany furniture, the ribbed, green chair, the cabinets and shelves of important looking papers and hardcover books. He clocks the bar cart at the far end, stacked with luxurious liquors and glass bottles, more than Eddie had ever seen in his life. He thinks of the cans in the fridge back at the trailer, the case of beer tucked away on a bottom shelf.

Once again, Steve notices Eddie looking, and Eddie comes to the realization that more often than not, Steve looks. At him. He doesn’t know what to do with that, just shelves the information away for later, when he’s staring up at the ceiling in his bed at night, alone with his conflicting thoughts.

“C’mon,” Steve whispers, though they’re alone in the house. Eddie gets it. Steve’s dad isn’t here, but in a way it feels like he is. Surrounded by his work, by his papers and objects and possessions too prized to even let his own son near, it feels like Mr. Harrington is breathing down his neck and Eddie feels a weird, dangerous thrill from it all.

They stop in front of the cart, taking in the various alcohol in crystal glasses, heavy bottles. Carefully, Steve picks up a bottle filled with a dark amber liquid and Eddie gapes. Gapes even more when Steve cocks a playful brow at him. 

“Dare you to take a swig with me.”

It startles a laugh out of Eddie. “Seriously?”

Steve just nods, hazel eyes glinting mischievously and Eddie tries not to get lost in them. He fails.

“Fine. I’ll do it myself,” Steve shrugs. With a very shaky hand, he brings the bottle to parted pink lips and slowly tips it back, taking an incredibly small swig, but tastes it regardless, evident by the way his face screws up with disgust as he hastily places the bottle back. It hits the cart's surface with a loud clink. “Gross,” he mutters, lips smacking. 

Eddie snorts. “Can’t be that bad.”

Steve pokes his tongue out. Eddie stares at it. “Try it yourself.”

Eddie straightens. “Fine.”

He repeats Steve’s action, trying to one-up him by tilting his head back further, taking a deeper sip. The liquid sloshes in his mouth, stinging, and burns mercilessly as it floods down his throat.

“Yuck,” Eddie heaves, replacing the bottle. Steve laughs, the sound sweet and melodic, and Eddie hopes he can hear it again and again. He joins in the laughter, and soon the two of them are wiping tears from their eyes. 

“Beer’s better,” Eddie declares. 

Steve’s brows skyrocket. “You’ve had it?”

“Yeah,” he replies casually. It being a singular sip when Wayne wasn’t looking, had left the dinner table briefly to use the bathroom and Eddie had felt reckless.

“Cool.” Steve is clearly awed, and Eddie preens under the attention. Puffs his chest out like a bird flaunting its wings.

They get along incredibly well after that, and Eddie can’t help but feel sad at the telltale sound of Wayne honking in the driveway later that night. Guiltily, his heart soars at the sorrow he’s pretty sure he hears twinge Steve’s goodbye, knows that must mean Steve is sad he’s going, too.

A few days later, with an eager heart and a heavy backpack, Eddie slides out of Wayne’s truck, hastily bidding his uncle goodbye. He slams the door shut and quickly makes his way up the expansive walkway, nearly tripping over himself with excitement.

It’s the third time they’re getting together at Steve’s. They’re wrapping up with their project, and Eddie is sorry for it. He likes having an excuse to be with Steve, knows that once this is over, he wouldn’t have one, not anymore. 

A few hours pass as they talk nonsense, from school to movies to things they want to do and things they’ve already done.

“Tommy has. He told me last week. Kissed Carol right on the lips,” Steve says from the bed where he tosses a ball over his head, over and over. Their social studies project lays abandoned on his desk. 

Eddie raises his brows where he sits cross-legged next to him. “Really?”

Steve nods. “He says it’s great. Like, so hot.” Eddie doesn’t say anything, so Steve continues. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

“Yeah. Me either,” Steve agrees. “Not that— not that I don’t want to,” he adds hastily. There’s a brief pause, then, in a smaller voice, “I dunno. I just feel like I’d be bad at it. I don’t really know how it works, ya know?”

Eddie snorts. “How hard can it be? You just,” he gestures awkwardly. “You just do it. You kiss. Put your lips together.”

“Very poetic, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. Suddenly, Steve bolts upright, and Eddie realizes just how close they are in this moment. The ball bounces off the bed, rolling away to a far corner. He swallows when hazel eyes meet his own. 

“What if…” Steve starts, trailing off.

Eddie’s eyes grow wide. “What if what?”

“What if we like… tried it?” Eddie stays quiet, and Steve attempts to backtrack, taking that as a sign. “Sorry, that was stupid, let’s just—”

“Okay.”

Steve blinks. “Okay?”

Eddie nods. Balls his hands into fists. “Okay.”

“Are you… sure?” 

Eddie nods again. Leans in close, before the moment’s up.

It’s an awkward peck, quick and light and simple, just lips connecting for two brief seconds. Eddie prays Steve can’t tell how chapped his lips are. They pull apart at the same time and stare at each other, unblinking. Finally Steve clears his throat.

“Um… cool. Thanks,” he offers.

“Thanks?” Eddie laughs, elbowing him. Desperate not to make things awkward. 

“Ow,” Steve yelps, pushing at Eddie’s shoulders. They play-fight for a bit until Steve pulls off. 

“I’m hungry,” he announces.

Eddie grins. “Pizza?” 

They race down the stairs. 

Steve Harrington never meant to hurt Eddie Munson. But he hurt him all the same. Just as he’d lowered his hardened exterior around the magnetic, charming boy, he’d built it right back up with a sad, practiced ease, watching as Steve pranced around the hallways with his cronies.

Was it the kiss? Or was it not even that, was it more so the fact that Eddie and Steve had simply been partners on an assignment, and Steve was just as confident and open around everyone else, ready to do anything, to be vulnerable so quickly? And that Eddie wasn't special? He had no idea. He just watched on in silent misery as Steve spent every moment with his little group, with Tommy H. and Tommy C. and a bunch of other cocky preps. Paid Eddie no mind. He didn’t get it, didn’t see why Steve thought he fit with them when he so clearly didn’t, but then again, maybe Eddie hadn’t really known him. Or maybe Eddie had only seen a small part of Steve, taken the tiniest glimpse into the boy’s soul, the boy that everyone thought was Hawkin’s simple golden child, but to Eddie he couldn’t have been more opposite. No, to Eddie, Steve was the biggest mystery in the world, a quiet enigma who sauntered around the hallways of Hawkins Middle and eventually Hawkins High with an effortless, easy demeanor that Eddie wasn’t so sure belonged to him.

Eventually, Eddie stopped trying to make sense of it all. He just built those walls back up and found his own place in the social hierarchy that was high school. He started Hellfire, started a band. Made friends of his own, though Eddie always felt a tiny pang of guilt that Gareth, Jeff and Frank never really knew Eddie, never knew more than what Eddie was willing to let on about himself, about his life. Eddie took great pleasure in becoming a leader regardless, fronting the band, dungeon-mastering Hellfire, corralling lost little sheepies under his wing. He didn’t want anyone feeling the way he had, timid and alone and upset with the world. Not on his watch.

He still noticed Steve in the hallways, couldn’t not notice him and the way Eddie swore hazel eyes sometimes bore into the back of his head when they crossed paths. Beseeching, tense, unable to articulate. Though that could all just be in Eddie’s head. 

No, Steve Harrington never intended to break Eddie’s heart. But Eddie was a cynical fellow, trained to run after realizing he wasn't a fighter. So it stood to reason that all these years later, cornered in a dark boathouse that belonged to his drug dealer of all people, that Eddie would retaliate, would hold up the broken bottle he’d been gripping tight against Steve’s neck with a crazed glint in his eye.

What did not stand to reason was the fact that Steve somehow wormed his way back into Eddie’s heart, after all that hard work of building seemingly concrete walls. No, Eddie did not consider the idea of Steve doing a complete 180 after graduating, befriending a bunch of nerdy teenagers and a cool chick Eddie vaguely knew from school band, before he quit. Of course, Eddie did notice Steve silently abandoning his cronies, opting to eat alone much of his senior year. Because despite everything Steve Harrington always caught his eye, whether he liked it or not. Eddie just never had the guts to press.

He was a runner, after all.

So maybe it did stand to reason that, in the aftermath in the fight against Vecna, when some girl with a buzzcut who could move things with her mind showed up out of nowhere and defeated the fucker once and for all, Steve Harrington insisted Eddie stay at his house, let Steve nurse him back to health because of the extensive wounds Eddie had sustained in the Upside Down.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs where he sits at Eddie's bedside. Or rather, the bedside of one of two guest rooms in the Harrington household. “Just take it.”

Eddie crosses his arms, petulant. “It tastes like ass.”

“Look, do you wanna get better or not?” Steve asks through gritted teeth.

Eddie shrugs. 

“‘M just gonna force it down your throat, then,” Steve threatens.

Eddie raises his brows. “Jesus, Harrington. Take a guy out to dinner first, huh?”

Steve rolls his eyes, cheeks reddening and Eddie grins, wolfish, before finally acquiescing and dropping his lower jaw. Steve spoon feeds him the medicine and Eddie gags at the taste, eliciting a snort from the brunette.

“You’re such a kid,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Rather be that than a miserable adult.”

“Sucking it up and taking a tiny bit of medicine means being a miserable adult?”

Eddie nods profusely. “Oh yeah. That, and paying taxes, having a job, owning a house, the works.”

“So what, you don’t plan on doing any of that?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah okay. But don’t come crying to me when they get you for tax evasion.”

“Please. I have the government wrapped around my finger. If I squeal with all the shit they put me through last week, they’re done for.”

“We signed NDA's.”

“That’s what that was?” Eddie gasps, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck.”

Steve laughs, the sound just as sweet and melodic as it had been all those years ago, like music to Eddie’s ears. He ponders briefly, before changing the subject.

“So… haven’t seen your parents around,” he presses carefully, alluding to the emptiness of the home.

Steve straightens slightly, and Eddie doesn’t miss the tension in his shoulders. Nevertheless, he meets Eddie’s question straight on with an honesty Eddie appreciates. “They, uh. They packed their shit and left, after everything that happened to the town. Said Hawlins isn’t safe anymore,” he laughs, but it’s a dark and hollow thing. Bitter.

“They didn’t ask you to go with them?” Eddie asks quietly. He hated Steve’s parents before, but now he feels a blinding fury, red hot and bone deep.

“No, they did,” Steve responds. “But… I didn’t want to. Figured certain people could use my help for a bit,” he adds softly. “Even if they’re being insanely immature about taking a little bit of medicine.” 

And oh, if that doesn’t do terrible things to Eddie’s poor heart. He meets Steve’s gaze fully. Lets himself find comfort in those beautiful hazel eyes, flecked with gold, like he did all those years ago. Today they’re more green than brown, yesterday they’d been deep chocolate, almost as deep as Eddie’s. It’s a wondrous thing, the ephemeral nature of Steve Harrington’s eyes.

“Staying in a ghost town just for lil ol’ me… you really know how to make ‘em swoon, don’t you?” 

Steve laughs again, and Eddie wants to pull him close. Kiss him again. “Get your ego in check. I stayed for the others, too.”

“Yeah, but pretty soon they’ll all be going off to college. Where will you go, Stevie?”

Steve thinks, screws his face up and knits his brows as he ponders Eddie’s question. Eddie has grown to love that about him, how he gives careful consideration to all of Eddie’s questions, mindless and loaded alike. “Probably would end up following Robin, if I’m being honest. We’re sort of a package deal. Figured I could just work somewhere nearby whatever college she chooses.”

Eddie smiles at that. “It’s nice you to have each other,” he says truthfully.

Steve squints and Eddie can see the gears turning behind his big beautiful head. “You know, you— uh, you have us, too,” he stammers. “Like, you’re not alone. Or whatever. You have Robin. And… me.”

Eddie’s heart leaps in his throat. Tries to play it cool. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. You don’t just go through something like that and continue like normal, even though everyone expects you to. You’re part of it, now. Part of us.”

Eddie’s eyes sting. If Steve notices the single tear that escapes and rolls down a scarred cheek, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Your uncle called, by the way. Says he’s sorry he can’t visit tonight because of work. But he can come around tomorrow.”

Eddie nods, trying not to think too hard about the idea of Steve and Wayne having a casual conversation on the phone. About Eddie.

In May, Eddie graduated alongside Robin and Nancy. Debates had circled over who would throw the party, between the Wheelers and Robin’s own folks. Eddie figured he and Wayne would just have a beer, sit back and enjoy a small cake together. Eventually they decided on a big joint party at Steve’s at Lucas’ exasperated suggestion, tired of the arguments. Eddie grinned giddily all evening as he guzzled champagne and felt Steve’s supposedly sneaky hand on the small of his back the entire night. 

Yes, Eddie Munson is a cynic. With exceptions. A cynic who should’ve seen it coming, when on a hot summer evening at the Harrington home, an evening filled with laughter and warm bodies and food and drink as the group celebrated Steve’s birthday, the brunette pulled him close, by the waist. Asked Eddie to come outside with him. He’d been tipsy, only slightly. Eddie was too. He understood, after the fact. That Steve wanted just the tiniest bit of liquid courage to bring Eddie close, away from prying eyes and under a clear, starry July night, to kiss him slow and deep. To kiss Eddie like he meant it, like he was a dying man and Eddie’s lips were his last taste of something good, something worthwhile. Eddie clung to him, no longer on crutches, but requiring the support after Steve made him weak in the knees with his damn mouth.

“Was that okay?” Steve asks quietly, hesitant. Nervous.

Eddie smiles warmly. “Yeah.” 

Their mouths reconnect, and if Dustin finds himself scarred after everyone sent him outside to locate Steve so they could present him with his cake, then so be it, Eddie muses dopily. They follow the seething curly-haired teen inside, fingers tightly interlaced.

Steve doesn’t end up following Robin to college. He claims it's because of Luna, the long-haired calico with black and orange patches and bright yellow eyes he’d since adopted after she repeatedly showed up at his doorstep for several weeks in August. She wouldn’t do well in a city, he maintained to a grinning Eddie, knowing all too well what the real reason was.  

It’s December now, and Eddie’s boyfriend is a wreck. He’s trying to calm Steve down, but the brunette is a blubbering mess, hair sticking up everywhere and fat tears staining his cheeks. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Steve cries into Eddie’s shoulder. He holds his boy firmly, running soothing hands up and down Steve’s back. “I thought… I thought she liked being….” Here. With me. 

“She does, baby. She just got lost, I promise,” Eddie murmurs. “We’ll find her.”

A week passes and Luna doesn’t turn up. Luna, the calico who had turned up one day, forcing her way into Steve’s heart purely by accident, only to be ripped away. Eddie gets the pain. They never cease their search, and Eddie prays every night that she returns to his poor boy. It is, however, Christmas, and Steve and Eddie are expecting their friends and family to show up any minute. Steve had thrown himself into meal prep for the past few days, busying himself with tiny details so as to take his mind off Luna. It doesn’t work, not really. 

The party commences with the Hopper-Byers family’s arrival, followed by the Wheelers, the Sinclairs, the Hendersons, the Buckleys plus Vickie, and finally Wayne. Max had arrived an hour early, like she usually does. Her and Steve grew somewhat close over the past few months, almost adopting a sort of sibling relationship, and Eddie is happy for it. 

They stay for hours, the house full of love and light as Eddie watches his boy flit from guest to guest like the perfect host he is. He can see Steve attempting to give his all, to put on his happiest face despite the missing calico. 

When dusk settles and their family and friends trickle out, Wayne gives Eddie a tight hug before departing.

“I’ll probably be staying here tonight, so—” Eddie starts awkwardly.

“Boy, you’ve been sleeping here for the past eight months, on and off. No need to get shy with me,” Wayne cuts him off gruffly. 

Eddie chuckles. “Alright, fine. Merry Christmas, Wayne.”

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Wayne says. He leans in close, eyeing Steve where he speaks to Robin as she puts her boots on. “He’s a good one. See to it that y’all stay together. You hear me?”

Eddie’s cheeks redden. He hides behind his hair. “Yeah okay, you old sap. Good night.”

A few minutes later, Steve and Eddie find themselves alone in the foyer. 

“I have one last present for you,” Steve says suddenly. Eddie raises his brows. They’d already exchanged presents that morning. “I mean, it’s not like an actual gift or anything. Just— here, follow me.” Steve leads him up to his bedroom.

“Oh, it’s that kind of gift,” Eddie purrs. Steve hits his chest.

“No.”

“Ugh,” he grumbles.

Steve scampers off to his closet and Eddie sits on the bed, waiting. He shuffles around for a bit until he presents Eddie with… a blank tri-fold board?

Eddie squints, confused. “Uh…?”

Steve looks down, realizing his mistake. He flips it around quickly and a multitude of emotions hit Eddie like a truck.

Their social studies project. From middle school. Steve kept it, after all these years. 

“You…” Eddie says dumbly.

“I kept it,” Steve says, sheepish. “I— I dunno. You didn’t want it, at least I don’t think you did. So I just took it home. I couldn’t throw it away, even though it takes up so much damn space,” he chuckles fondly. “I never realized why I kept it, not until I put it all together... I didn’t want to lose the memory of you. That you’d been here. Even if I acted like a jerk and ignored you after that.” He looks between the board and Eddie, studying his reaction. They’ve talked about it before, obviously, but not at length. Not with the memory of it all so clear as day.

Eddie scrambles off the bed and meets his lips in a few quick strides. “Not a jerk,” he rasps before kissing all over a squirming Steve’s face. “Well. Okay, maybe a little.”

Steve laughs, truly laughs. It’s loud and childlike and Eddie swears his heart grows just hearing it. 

“But honestly… you never were a jerk to me. I just figured… I don’t even know what I figured. That I freaked you out or something. By kissing you.”

“Eds, it was my idea. I thought I freaked you out.”

“Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. You thoroughly kickstarted my sexuality crisis, Harrington.” 

Steve nudges Eddie down with the arms wrapped around his neck for a forehead kiss. 

“Well, consider me honored. I’m just glad—”

He’s cut off by loud, angry scratches at the window. Steve jumps and Eddie turns to look behind him. 

Cautiously, both men approach the curtains, and Eddie slowly reaches to draw it back, preparing for the worse.

Two glinting, round yellow eyes stare back at him. 

Luna.

Steve gasps before fumbling to unlatch the handle, and both men watch in shock as the calico jumps easily inside, brushing her bushy tail against Steve’s leg as if she’d never left. She makes her way out of the room and pads down the stairs, presumably to her food bowl.

“That little fucker,” Eddie mutters, clutching his chest.

Steve swats at him. “Don’t talk about her like that,” he hisses, following her downstairs. 

It's around eleven at night as the credits of A Christmas Story roll on the screen. Steve is draped against Eddie on the sofa, cuddled up against his chest, hair tickling Eddie’s chin. The two of them are swaddled in a blanket and Eddie carefully places their (now empty) shared mug of hot cocoa on the side table. Luna rests atop Steve, purring, the brunette occasionally running a sleepy hand through her long fur. 

“Bed?” Eddie murmurs into his boy’s hair. 

Steve groans. “Don’t feel like moving,” he says, voice muffled by Eddie’s sweater. 

Eddie doesn’t really feel like moving either, if he’s honest. There’s a comfortable silence, music from the credits playing softly in the background, before Steve speaks again. He raises his head and looks at Eddie, maneuvering carefully so as to not disturb the calico. Eddie just looks back at Steve with soft, expectant eyes.

“Um. I’ve been thinking… Luna might be okay in a city.” Eddie remains quiet, waiting to see where this is going. “So like, maybe, if you’re down, we could like, look into getting an apartment of our own? In Indy? Or wherever really,” he adds hastily.

Eddie grins, a big and stupid grin that lights up his whole face. His heart sings in his chest. “Oh, I’m so down. I just feel bad that you’ll have to hear my snoring every single night now.”

Steve smiles shyly, pleased with his boyfriend’s response. He rests his head against Eddie again and sighs.

Eddie Munson had always been a cynic when it came to relying on other people. People are selfish, people are indifferent and cold and couldn’t be depended on. 

But some people are good; that's the thing. Some are worth letting in, worth lowering his walls for and exposing his naked soul to even though everything in him beseeches him not to, not at first. Like Wayne. Like Dustin. Like Robin and Lucas and Mike and everyone else who’d let Eddie into their little family. 

And Steve— his boy, his sweetheart, his everything— especially Steve. Steve is patient and kind despite his upbringing, despite his parents. Eddie had seen it that day when he’d first stepped into the Harrington home, and has bore witness to it everyday since. He had been open with Eddie on that first day, divulged a deep secret after only spending three days with the other boy. Was honest from the start, and Eddie hadn’t realized how envious he was of that. He internalized it, made it part of himself. 

Steve Harrington is proof to Eddie that you could go for years without love, without real love, anyway, and still find room in your heart to wholly and unequivocally love others, because that’s what Steve does. Loves hard, loves completely. Things may have gotten tangled for a bit, but adolescent miscommunication means little to Eddie now.

“Merry Christmas, baby. I love you,” Eddie whispers, pressing a kiss to Steve’s hair.

“Love you Eds,” Steve mumbles, yawning.

And maybe they’ll wake up tomorrow with sore necks from sleeping at such an awkward angle, but Eddie doesn’t mind that one bit.