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Eddie has had very few instances where he truly and fully regrets his decisions. He likes to think he takes calculated risks and that, really, in the grand scheme of things, there isn’t a whole lot he can do that he can’t bounce back from.
Sure, the Upside Down had fucked with that belief quite a lot; he regretted a lot about what happened there, Chrissy for one, running for another. But some good things had come out of it too, and the whole Party had assured him that he hadn’t done anything wrong and nothing that had happened was his fault.
So, that helped a little.
So did having Harrington, Wheeler, Byers and Buckley at his side ready to defend and support him.
And while Hawkins remains an ignorant shithole of a town that he still plans to leave in the dust—preferably while succeeding as a world-famous rockstar—he maintains that truly bad decisions aren’t something he does often.
It’s why, when he wakes up with a pounding headache and tear tracks on his cheeks, it takes him a few confused moments to recall the previous night.
The hazy details soon become crisp, slamming him with mortification and a regret so acute that he has to leap off his bed and run to the bathroom to hurl into the toilet. Because, sweet fucking Christ, he’s made a horrifically bad mistake.
He’s still upchucking when he hears a knock on what has to be the wall (he hadn’t thought ahead to shut the door).
“You all right in there, son?” Uncle Wayne asks with noticeable concern.
It’s not like him to throw up after drinking. But fuck, it has a lot less to do with the alcohol and more the churning remorse. Eddie whimpers pathetically and a few moments later, Wayne is standing over him, a gentle hand on his back.
“Nightmare?” he asks carefully.
And God, Eddie wishes. A bad dream about the Upside Down would be so much better than reality right now. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He seems to be finished throwing up, but he still feels a lead weight in his stomach.
“You wanna talk?” Wayne asks.
Eddie shakes his head again. He really doesn’t, he also can’t—won’t explain what happened to his uncle. Wayne pats his back gently.
“Get you some water,” he murmurs, leaving the bathroom and Eddie’s slumped form.
Eddie just wants to crawl into a ball and never be discovered. But unfortunately for him, reality doesn’t fucking work that way. His uncle comes back with a glass of water and he’s forced to sit up, wash his mouth and then drink the water.
Wayne watches him the entire time, arms crossed and gaze concerned.
“Thought you and the Harrington boy were spending the night together?” Eddie flinches so hard that some water spills onto his pants. “Ah. Something happen?”
Eddie stares at the floor, but just because he’s not answering the question, it doesn’t mean his mind isn’t flashing back to exactly what did happen.
Because the thing is, getting drunk alone with Steve has always been a bit of a risk. He’s done it a dozen times, but it never stops making nervousness course through his veins and his mouth go dry. A lax and smiling Steve Harrington is a very pretty sight, added to the fact that the boy is in his bedroom in loose clothes and comfortable around him, well, Eddie likes the picture.
He’d like it a lot more with less clothes and that pretty mouth against his own, but, Eddie hasn’t lost his mind. He knows that’s a fantasy not reality.
Even so, drinking with Steve means lowered inhibitions, which means he sits closer, looks longer and flirts harder. It means that when Steve had complained about having shit luck lately and how it had been so long since anyone had touched him. Eddie, in all his glorious stupidity, had said, “I’ll do it.”
Steve had stared at him, confused and then wide-eyed. Eddie had crawled closer, the two of them already on his bed. He’d raised himself to half lay over the other boy.
“I can do it,” Eddie had murmured.
Steve had laughed, an oddly high-pitched and nervous sound. “Come on, dude.”
But, he’d stared at Eddie and bitten his bottom lip. He’d looked a certain way, something that Eddie’s drunken mind had interpreted as accepting, so Eddie had bent down and pressed his lips to Steve’s.
It had only been a short kiss, enough to make Steve pull in a shocked gasp—enough to make Eddie’s entire body sing.
But Steve had pulled back, murmured, “Eddie.”
“Can make it good, Steve,” Eddie had whispered, trailing his lips along Steve’s jaw. “Could blow you real good.”
“I… uh,” Steve had given another nervous laugh. “It-”
“So good, Stevie,” Eddie had insisted. “Had practice.”
Steve had stiffened beneath him and Eddie had felt the beginnings of regret—the realisation of a bad decision starting to rear up and bite him. But Steve had been right there, Eddie’s mouth having brushed perfect skin and plush lips.
He’d reached for Steve’s belt, lowering his head again, kissing that strong jawline.
“Let me,” he'd said, trying to sweeten it. “Be better than any girl.”
Instead of convincing him, it had done the opposite. Steve had gripped his shoulder and shoved him off. Eddie had sprawled out on his back, confused and a little disoriented as Steve had sat up on the edge of the bed.
“Steve-”
“We’re too drunk.”
“But-”
“You’ll regret it in the morning.”
“I’ll regret not doing it in the morning,” Eddie had countered, because even through the haze of alcohol, Eddie had felt a deep gnawing pit opening in his stomach.
Steve had seemed to waver for a moment before shaking his head and standing. Eddie had been forced to watch him stumble out of the bedroom and into the living room; to the couch no one voluntarily slept on—but out of touching distance from Eddie.
Eddie had stared after him, sitting up on the bed and feeling the true clarity of his mistake; offering to blow his very straight friend that he was half in love with, kissing him sweetly and softly, desperately fucking pleading to get the guy’s cock in his mouth.
He’d been lucky Steve hadn’t done more than just shove him.
And rather than deal with the weight and pain of that mistake, Eddie had grabbed for his half-finished beer, and then Steve’s which he’d left behind. He’d tossed both of them back, but his eyes had already started stinging as he’d sat in his bed, alone.
He’d ended up pressing his hands against his face, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d buried his head in his pillow, quiet tears slipping free as he cursed and swore at himself, knowing that Steve wouldn’t hear him; knowing that Steve, by the time he woke up, would know exactly how much of a pining queer his friend had turned out to be.
And that finally pulls Eddie from his aching memories. He drags his gaze up to his uncle and asks a question he already knows the answer to: “Steve isn’t here?”
“No.”
Eddie shuts his eyes, his stomach doing another painful churn, but there’s nothing left to heave up.
“You boys have a fight?”
Eddie laughs harsh and bitter. He tilts his head back against the wall and meets Wayne’s gaze. He smiles his most bitter and mocking grin.
“You know me, Wayne. Total fuck up.”
“Eddie-”
“No, no, see, it’s not like I fucking knew he was only into girls. Not like I-”
But Eddie snaps his mouth shut, bites down hard on his bottom lip. He’s painted enough of a picture; Wayne doesn’t need the specifics of exactly what he’d tried to instigate with his friend.
Wayne sighs heavily, but he gently bends down, knees creaking as he does. He squeezes his shoulder.
“It’ll be all right, son. That boy cares about you, and you’ve been through more together than most people ever do. He’ll come back around.”
Eddie swallows around a lump. He really wants to hope his uncle is right, that Steve will give him another chance. But, if he does, it also means something else. Eddie picks at the seam of his pants.
“Eddie?”
He sighs, his chest heavy with resignation.
“I want him to come back,” he admits quietly, “I really fucking do, but…”
“But?”
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and blurts, “I don’t want to hear him tell me it’s never going to happen. And fuck, not like I don’t already know it. But… Christ… I just…”
He trails off but his uncle sighs. He squeezes his shoulder again and gently tugs him forward, letting Eddie press his face in the warm comfort of his uncle’s chest. His uncle doesn’t offer any platitudes or promises, and Eddie would scoff at them anyway.
They both know the situation he’s got himself in, all he can do is brace for what’s in store. Because he wasn’t lying, he does desperately want Steve to come back so he can apologise and salvage their friendship. He just really doesn’t want to be told “no” again when he’s sober enough to feel every bit of rejection and pain that comes with it.
When he finally gets out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, Wayne tries to get him to eat something, but he doesn’t.
He gets one look at the couch, seeing the telltale signs that someone tossed and turned on it before he retreats to his bed and tries to suffocate himself with a pillow.
He doesn’t get very far, but he also doesn’t leave the bed. He wallows. He repeats the previous night over and over in his mind, like it’s a car crash he can’t stop staring at; the myriad of ways he fucked everything up.
He can’t even focus on the fact he kissed Steve; something he’s wanted to do since they were both in High School together. All it conjures is a sick sense of guilt. He took advantage of his friend, read reception when it wasn’t there; let his own desire to touch and pleasure Steve take control over his common sense.
And Steve had been right, he does regret it in the morning, so fucking much.
But most of all, he hates that his actions have made Steve so uncomfortable he had to flee the trailer rather than stay over like he usually does. They normally have breakfast and coffee together, laughing and leaning into each other at the counter. It’s a fucking highlight and now it’s gone.
Just like Steve.
In response to that, what else can Eddie do but hide in his room?
It’s probably not befitting for a guy his age. He should just suck it up, go find Steve, apologise and promise it will never, ever happen again, maybe even offer him a quick punch if he feels violated enough. A hit in the face for an unwanted kiss seems about fair.
But just the idea of getting out of the trailer and into his van makes him break out in a nervous sweat, the idea of facing Steve without a proper idea of what to expect makes him want to run.
So, he takes the coward’s way out. He hides in the trailer and avoids his uncle’s gaze, not wanting to see what might be in it.
And for nearly two days, nothing interferes with his retreat from the world and his agonising regret. Wayne’s still working, so he’s alone most of the time, laying on his mattress, staring at the roof—occasionally looking at the spot where Steve had lain. He ignores the phone the few times someone tries to call. The walkie they’d given him after the Upside Down is silent, so he knows the ones he misses aren’t important.
The sound of tires outside and the subsequent pounding on the trailer door, they’re a lot harder to ignore. He still wants to, God damn it, he doesn’t want to deal with anyone but then-
“Eddie? Come on, man, we need to talk.”
Eddie shoots up in bed, staring wide-eyed at his bedroom door. But when Steve’s fist comes down on it again, Eddie leaps out of bed, almost tangling in the sheets. He stumbles and throws open his door, but when he reaches the living room, he hesitates.
Because Steve is here. He’s shown up, he’s come all the way to the trailer—a place where a guy had kissed and hit on him. He’s here and as much as Eddie still does not want to deal with what comes next, he also desperately wants to do the right thing by Steve.
The guy is here and wants to talk. He owes him that.
Grabbing the handle, Eddie yanks the door open before he can think better about it.
It’s bright outside, mid-afternoon sun reflecting off Steve’s hair. He has sunglasses hanging through the collar of his polo. He should look put together, but there’s bags under his eyes, his hair limper than normal. Eddie hates that he’s responsible for it.
He looks down, swallows hard.
“Yeah, okay,” he whispers.
Eddie wavers, but he eventually steps out of the trailer. Steve frowns and looks around as if double-checking for something.
“I thought Wayne was working?”
“He is,” Eddie agrees.
I just don’t want to get bloodstains out of the trailer. Or have to go back inside knowing it’s where you punched and rejected me.
He starts walking around the back, choosing a place out of immediate sight. It’s where he’s sometimes done deals and he hopes that it will be enough to keep unwanted eyes off them. They’re also more shaded from the sun, and Eddie leans back against the metal; the trailer a cool support that will hopefully keep him upright.
“Okay,” Eddie says once Steve has stopped—standing surprisingly close to him all things considered. “Ready when you are.”
Steve frowns, still looking confused and Eddie almost smiles. He’s always liked that endearing look of bafflement. Always enjoyed creating it then explaining himself until confusion clears for exasperation or humour. Right now, he doesn’t think the expression will evolve into anything half as pretty.
And he’s right. But it’s not anger or disgust that appears, it’s determination. Steve rolls back his shoulders as if preparing for battle and Eddie braces even more of his weight against the solid trailer behind him.
“I made a mistake,” Steve says; firm, serious and apologetic.
It’s so surprising that Eddie’s startled into a laugh.
“You made a mistake?” He asks incredulously. “Christ, Steve. I’m the one who suggested blowing you.”
Steve looks shocked. Like, what? He expected them to avoid specifying it?
“I meant leaving,” he murmurs. “Before we could talk.”
And Eddie suddenly regrets bringing it up. Because maybe Steve doesn’t want to discuss the gory details? Maybe he wants to tip-toe around exactly what almost happened? Fuck. It’s another regret to add to the long line that his drunken stupidity has started.
But, it’s too late to backtrack now.
“Yeah, well,” he says, scuffing his shoe and looking at the ground. “Fair enough. Not every day your friend tries to have sex with you.”
“You were drunk,” Steve says immediately, like a knee-jerk reaction. And there’s something in his tone too; like he’s giving Eddie an out.
We were drunk, it didn’t really mean anything. We’re both completely straight. Totally not into fucking dudes. Boobs and pussy are where it’s at, right man?
Eddie closes his eyes and tilts back his head.
If that’s how Steve wants to play it, he should just let it happen. But the acid burns his stomach and fresh guilt weighs him down until he just can’t.
“But, I’m gay,” he mutters. “So, drunk or not, I crossed a line and made a pass you didn’t want.” He swallows around a lump, fresh nausea in his stomach. “Sorry.”
“Eddie,” Steve says quietly, “that’s kind of not the issue, man.”
Eddie frowns, opens his eyes and looks back at Steve. His teeth are digging into his bottom lip. Steve is chewing at it like it’s a pencil and he’s in the middle of an exam. His cheeks are also pink with a flush Eddie would almost call embarrassed.
But when he meets Eddie’s gaze that same steely determination is present.
“You hit on me when you were drunk, Eddie. But you…” he glances away. “You don’t do it sober. So, I, uh, didn’t want it… that way?”
Eddie blinks but quickly straightens from his slouch. “Wait. Hold on. What the fuck are you saying to me, Steve?”
Steve clears his throat, but his face is only getting redder. He crosses his arms defensively.
“Just…” Steve still keeps his gaze averted. “I don’t want to do casual, okay? And I get that you do, it’s fine. I’m just-”
“Hold up, hold the fuck up,” Eddie interrupts, holding up his hand. “I must be losing my mind, because no fucking way did Steve Harrington just say that he wants an actual relationship, with a guy.”
Steve finally looks back at him, glaring.
“I didn’t say with a guy,” he rebuts, and it hurts for a second before, “I said with you.”
Eddie’s breath hitches, he swears his heart stops beating. He stares at Steve and seriously considers the idea that’s he’s unconscious somewhere and dreaming.
“And look, I get it, okay?” Steve continues. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging and messing up the once perfect style. “You’re into casual shit with your Indy visits and your bandanas and fuck. It’s fine. But just…” he closes his eyes, looking pained. “I can’t do casual with you, man. I can’t just… I can’t work out I like a dude and then mess around like it—like you don’t mean something.”
“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, still reeling from the shock, still incredibly worried he’s hearing all of this wrong. “Steve, are you saying you want to date me?”
Steve, if possible, tenses further. He even takes a half step back.
“Look, you don’t have to be a dick about it.” His arms go back around his body in a defensive hug. “I get that you only want a quick fuck-”
“Jesus H. Christ, Steve. That is the last thing I want with you.”
“Uh… huh?”
Eddie laughs, the strength of his relief and excitement leaving him close to floating.
“Sweetheart, I thought you’d left because you were offended or like disgusted I wanted to get you naked.”
Steve blinks, his lips forming a perfect ‘o’. Eddie dares to step closer, to let his fingers trail over and up Steve’s arm.
“Thought I’d made the mistake; finally making a move on this gorgeous straight guy I’ve had a thing for since High School.”
Steve blinks rapidly before slowly, the hurt and confusion clears and he starts to grin. His arms unwrap from his body and his hands settle on Eddie’s waist, sending a spark of heat through Eddie’s body. Eddie’s hand keeps moving until he gently cups the back of Steve’s neck.
Looking at the boy in front of him, Eddie has never wanted someone more.
He brushes his thumb along Steve’s jaw and delights when Steve leans closer—and God, as much as he’d love to kiss him, Eddie is still very aware that they’re in public.
He flicks his gaze around before looking back at Steve and his slightly parted lips.
“Come into the trailer with me?” he asks.
It’s obvious why he’s asking and Steve’s expression changes; obvious, blatant interest and excitement impossible to miss. Eddie’s heart picks up and it takes everything in Eddie to let the other boy go rather than kiss him there and then; potential witnesses be damned.
When they’re no longer touching, they just stand for a few seconds, looking at each other. Eddie wonders if Steve feels as awed and disbelieving as he does.
Eventually, Eddie forces his gaze away. He starts walking back around the trailer and Steve joins him; so close that their arms brush with every movement. Eddie has to try very hard not to break out in a run.
He yanks open the door and nearly stumbles inside with his impatience. He holds the door open and Steve follows, brushing him as he climbs inside. When the door is shut, Eddie turns to his friend only for Steve to crowd him against the door. Steve grins; the look every inch the flirtatious King of Hawkins High and it makes Eddie’s heart race.
“You going to kiss me now, Eds?” he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded.
Eddie does not need another invitation. He cups Steve’s face and drags him the last of the distance needed. Their lips come together and it’s impossibly better than the drunken peck two nights prior, or the many fantasies he’d guiltily indulged in over the years. Steve’s hands are braced on the door either side of his head, allowing him to feel surrounded by the other boy’s heat and cologne.
Steve also kisses back. There’s no hesitation or shyness, no internal freak out about being with a guy. It’s like he’s been wanting and waiting for this too. Like, Steve Harrington has also been imagining this very moment and hoping it could come true.
It makes the kiss so fucking good.
But then, that could also just be Steve. Because, shit, he knows what he’s doing. Eddie has only kissed a handful of guys, but none of them hold a candle to Steve.
When they eventually break apart, Eddie feels dizzy with the euphoria of it. He’s panting a little by the time he opens his eyes. When he looks at Steve; kiss-reddened lips and a flush on his cheeks, he grins, not caring how goofy it will look.
Steve smiles back and Eddie leans forward wanting to kiss him again. To never, ever stop.
Steve laughs, he lets their lips come together in a brief kiss before he gently pushes Eddie back by the chest.
“Come on, Eds,” he says, sounding amused and still smiling. “You keep doing that and we’re never leaving the trailer.”
“Why are we leaving the trailer?” He slides his arms around Steve’s waist tugging him close. He’s so excited he can do this and God, he needs to touch him as much as humanly possible. “I really like it here.”
Steve snorts and shakes his head.
“I told you, Eds.” His hand then lifts. He brushes some hair behind Eddie’s ear, sending a tingle across his skin. “I don’t just want casual.”
Eddie’s heart skips and rather than melt into an unbefitting pile of mush, he teases, “You saying you want to take me on a date, Stevie?”
“Yeah,” Steve answers without hesitation. “I want to take you out, Eddie.”
Eddie feels his cheeks heat and he wants to duck his head or maybe hide behind his hair—but Steve is still close and watching him. His expression is earnest and fond, and it makes Eddie feel like maybe… maybe he doesn’t have to hide what he’s feeling from Steve.
He still can’t hold his gaze, and he squirms a little, but he whispers, “I’d like that.”
“Cool,” Steve says, grinning. He tugs on a strand of his hair and it makes Eddie’s stomach twist in a really good way. “You want lunch? Then a movie?”
“Yeah, okay,” Eddie agrees, feeling another rush of dizzy excitement.
Because, Jesus H. Christ, he’s going on an honest to God date with a cute boy who likes him and has kissed him and smiles at him like he’s hung the stars.
Fucking hell. Is this actually his life?
But the longer he stands wrapped around Steve, the other boy smiling just as much like an idiot as him; Eddie knows that it’s real.
Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, absolutely gorgeous former-jock and giant sweetheart… actually likes him back.
And it only makes Eddie realise that once again, he hasn’t miscalculated or done something he can’t bounce back from. Rather, he had read Steve right those two nights ago, and this wasn’t a mistake.
In fact, if he’s honest? Kissing Steve while drunk might just turn out to be the best thing he’s ever God damn done.