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Steve Harrington is sitting on Eddie’s bed.
He's dressed in one of Eddie’s baggier pairs of sweats and an oversized band hoodie, towelling his hair dry. Eddie has never been this happy, even though his fantasies featuring this specific scenario always featured a significantly smaller amount of clothes.
“You want tea?” Eddie asks, brandishing the steaming cup he busied himself with while Steve was in the shower like a shield. “I'm not much of a tea person myself, so all I had was camomile from the last time I had a stomach bug. Dunno why they tell you to have camomile when you're sick. If you weren’t puking your guts out before, this stuff’ll definitely-”
“Tea is a great idea,” Steve stops his rambling. “Thank you.”
It's too heavy of a thank you for Eddie’s ears. Too hushed, loaded with too much meaning for a simple cup of piss-colored hot water. He sinks down on the bed and watches Steve take a tentative sip, tongue suddenly too clumsy for words.
“Weird,” Steve says after a minute or two.
“Huh?” Eddie flinches. “Ugh, shit, sorry. It's like three years old, so the taste is probably-”
Steve huffs.
“No, the tea is fine,” he claims. He still looks infinitely tired, but the corners of his lips twitch as he regards Eddie over the rim of the cup. “It's just … We've been alone in a room for more than five minutes and we're both still fully clothed. Must be a first.”
Eddie snorts so hard he doubles over and almost falls off the bed. Steve daintily sips his tea and watches how he struggles to get his bearings.
“God, you're right,” Eddie rasps, once he manages to draw two consecutive breaths without breaking into a fresh round of laughter. “What have we been doing, huh?”
Steve shrugs. The clink of the cup being set down on the nightstand is loud in the silence.
“You said you wanted to talk,” Steve mutters, with a hint of that bitchy defiance Eddie is so familiar with. “So talk. Why did you come after me?”
Because I love you, Eddie wants to say. Because I've been in love with you since we were teenagers. Because I never forgot you, and I don't think I'd survive losing you again.
But he can't say it. The last time he said it, Steve ran from this very room like the devil himself was on his heels and disappeared into the night and the rain. So he shakes his head.
“You first. I think you have a whole lot more to explain than me.”
Steve chuckles drily. His fingers have started fiddling with a loose threat on the sleeve of the borrowed sweater.
“Fair enough. Where would you like me to start?”
Eddie thinks for a moment. The mattress moves as he shifts his weight and crosses his legs, careful to keep his distance.
“How about at the beginning? Why are you waiting tables in some mediocre little diner, thousands of miles from home? I always assumed your daddy had enough contacts and money to get you into any college you wanted.”
Steve snorts, watching the loose thread grow longer as he yanks on it.
“Yeah, right. As if what I wanted ever figured into the equation. For as long as I lived, it was always about him. All of it. His idea of what I should wear, who I should hang out with, what I should do with my life. I was sick of it. And when I graduated and he told me that he had it all laid out for me? College application taken care of, complete with an internship and junior position at one of his buddies’ companies a few years down the line? A fucking shortlist of girls, because he figured it was time I got more serious?”
He waves his hands about - a large, angry attempt at air quotes that nearly knocks the mug off the nightstand - then pinches the bridge of his nose. A deep, angry furrow has appeared between his brows, and Eddie's stomach gives a surprised lurch. Steve always seemed happy enough to him. The perfect, popular golden boy - always smiling, always soft-spoken and pleasant.
Then again, Steve is a master at keeping up facades. If there's one thing Eddie has learned about him, it's this.
It occurs to him that tonight is probably the first time he's seeing Steve without a mask on.
“I always admired you, you know that?”
Eddie almost falls off the bed a second time. It takes Steve reaching out and putting a steadying hand on his shoulder to save him.
“Excuse me, I don't- …” Eddie sputters. “I think I didn't hear that- … You admired me? I didn't think you even knew I existed.”
“You were so unapologetically yourself,” Steve says. His hand has dropped off Eddie’s shoulder and come to rest on his lower arm, fingers drawing circles in the fabric of his flannel. “You never gave a fuck about what anyone said or thought of you. And the way you just booked it outta there? I thought about that a lot. Wished that could've been me.”
I thought about you, Eddie wants to say. Always. Every day of every year. Wondering what it would’ve been like if you’d been mine. Wishing I could’ve taken you with me.
“Aw,” he coos. “So you decided to pull a Munson and just abscond in the dead of night? I am flattered.”
Steve chuckles. “I should've done that, I guess. Would've been the smart idea. Unfortunately I've never been smart, so what I did instead was tell him to go fuck himself. That I'd never wanted any of this. The Ivy League college, the house with the picket fence, the girls. That, if he paid a little more attention, maybe he would've noticed that I'd been fucking Tommy Hagan right under his nose for the past year and a half.”
Eddie stares. Steve's face does the annoyed twitchy thing that he's well familiar with from countless nights at the diner.
“What? I've been sucking your cock in exchange for money for the past few months, you can't tell me this comes as a surprise.”
“What? No,” Eddie blurts. “I mean … not the cocksucking part, but … Hagan? Seriously? C'mon, man, that guy was an ass. You could've done so much better!”
“Shut up,” Steve laughs, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “I dunno if you noticed, but the range of available candidates in that place was sort of limited.”
Eddie almost says something very stupid - such as that there was at least one very willing candidate - but that is when the smile drops off Steve's face.
“You're right, though.” He ducks his head, letting his damp hair fall over his eyes. “He really was an ass. I mean, I wasn't exactly expecting him to take me in and introduce me to his parents, but would it have hurt him to let me crash on the couch for a night or two?”
“Your old man kicked you out then,” Eddie hums. Again, no surprises here. He went through the same story with his own dad at the tender age of thirteen, and he's heard it a hundred times since.
Steve is still not looking at him, but he does something weird with his head. A not-quite-shake and not-quite-nod.
“I wish he would've left it at that,” he says.
He lapses into silence for a long moment, long enough for Eddie to wonder if this is the end of their conversation, but then he gives himself a visible shake. The look in his eyes when he finally meets Eddie’s is the one from the alley all over again. The one that fills Eddie with the physically painful urge to wrap him in his arms and shield him from the world.
“He, um- … He said he'd destroy me. That everything I was and everything I had was because of him, and that he could take it away as easily as he had given it. That, no matter where I went, he'd find me and ruin me, until I came crawling back.”
Eddie's fingers curl into the sheets. If Steve notices, he chooses to ignore it.
“It took him a while to find me this time around,” he mutters. “I was extra careful, too. Maintained a low profile, didn't take any fancy jobs, kept to myself. I still don't know what gave me away, but … A while ago, the family I was babysitting for suddenly let me go. Didn’t even give me a proper reason, just some vague bullshit about how money was tight and they'd need to rebudget and … Well, I knew something was up.”
“That's why you don't work at the diner anymore,” Eddie mutters. His own voice sounds hollow in his ears, like he's listening to someone speak from very far away. “Why you suddenly wanted to … upgrade our deal?”
The words come out choked, just barely pressing past the hard, sickening lump sitting on the back of his tongue. Suddenly, the thought of what happened in this very room only a few hours ago, of what he almost did, fills him with a cold, dull horror. Steve doesn't seem to share the sentiment, because he just nods. It makes Eddie wonder about the things he’s done throughout the years, to keep his head above water. It makes his hand clench tighter into the blankets, makes his fingers burn with the all-consuming need to bury his fist into the face of a man who is probably peacefully asleep right now, miles and miles away.
“He always does this,” Steve says. His voice is flat and resigned, but with a smidgen of rage still alive underneath it all. “He’ll find my landlords, my employers, and tell them about my ‘scandalous lifestyle’, like he wasn’t the one who fucking drove me into it. And if that isn’t enough to turn them against me, he’ll resort to bribery or threats, and … I didn’t know what else to do, Eddie. I don’t have any money, no place to stay. I’ve lost my apartment and all of my jobs. It’s all gone. Except for you.”
Suddenly, his hand is on top of Eddie’s, threading their fingers together. Suddenly, they’re close again, even though Eddie doesn’t remember moving.
“I don't need a lot,” Steve murmurs against his lips. He smells like Eddie's shampoo. “Just enough to skip town and start over somewhere new.”
He tilts his head.
And Eddie catches his face in both hands to stop him.
“Fuck this,” he snarls. “Fuck him. We're not doing this.”
“I-” Steve blinks at him. It's sluggish and a little confused, but with an underlying flicker of panic to it that makes Eddie’s heart clench. “I don't- … But I can't stay here. I need-”
Eddie shakes his head. It makes the tips of their noses brush and a tiny part of him thinks that he should pull away, but he doesn't.
“What you need to do, big boy, is stop running and start fighting.”
Steve huffs, like he just told a particularly unfunny joke. “Yeah, great idea. How exactly did you figure I'd do that? He has money and lawyers, and-”
“And?” Eddie can feel his grin turn wolfish, lips peeling back to reveal his canines. “So do I. And believe it or not, I have a lot of experience with handling conservative old assholes who think they can get away with harassing my artists. Just say the word and I’ll make some phone calls first thing in the morning.”
“I’m not one of your artists.” Steve frowns - a slow and doubtful thing, laced with reluctant hope that makes the vice around Eddie’s heart clench all the tighter. “So why would you do this?”
Because you’re mine, Eddie thinks. And nobody touches what’s mine.
“You’re important to me,” is what he says. “I wanna help you out, if you’ll let me.”
Please let me. I don’t want to lose you all over again.
Steve sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down on it, hard enough for Eddie to see the little pinpricks left in the soft flesh. Something in those pretty eyes flickers.
“What you said earlier,” Steve murmurs. “Did you mean it?”
The question hits like a punch to the gut, even without Steve clarifying what exactly he is talking about. He doesn’t need to. Eddie knows immediately and without a shred of a doubt what he’s referring to. The idiotic, clumsy, completely out-of-place confession that tumbled from his lips in the heat of a moment, here on this bed. Now, Steve’s eyes are looking into his very soul, daring him to either confirm or deny it, and Eddie knows that whatever he says next will change the trajectory of his life.
The direction is entirely up to him.
“I did,” he says, fingers trembling against Steve’s cheekbones. “I do. I think I have for a very long time.”
A heartbeat passes. Then a second one. They feel like tiny jackhammers against his ribcage. Steve doesn’t run, this time, and the relief of that alone is enough to make Eddie dizzy.
“How can you be so sure of that?” Steve whispers. “You don’t even know me.”
Eddie thinks he hasn't been as sure of anything in a very long time. Probably not since he packed up his stuff and got in his van and flashed his middle finger at the Now Leaving Hawkins sign as he sped past.
But he has a feeling that's not what Steve needs to hear right now.
“Let me change that, then.”
It comes out a little too eager, he guesses, because Steve wrinkles his brow and opens his mouth as if to protest. Eddie doesn't leave him any chance, just barrels on.
“Because I'd love that, y’know? Actually getting to know you, without- …”
He trails off, suddenly self-conscious. Steve watches him lick his lips, and the corners of his mouth quiver.
“Without any of us taking off any clothes?”
Eddie nods.
“Yeah,” he rasps through a too-dry throat. “That’d be great. Not that I don’t love the thought of seeing you without any clothes, but- … I do feel like we’ve been going about this all wrong.”
Steve tilts his head. “You do still owe me a second date. You promised to pick a fancier spot, if I recall correctly.”
“Oh, you just wait,” Eddie beams. The mattress bounces a little as he starts wiggling in his spot. “I’ll take you to the fanciest restaurant in town. I’ll order the most expensive champagne on the menu. Caviar, too. Wait, are you a caviar kinda guy? I think it tastes like gross saltwater jelly, but if you like it, we can-”
“How about the movies for a start?” Steve suggests. “And an actually decent burger after? Oh, or steak. It’s been forever since I had steak.”
Eddie falls in love a little more.
“Steak sounds awesome,” he agrees. “I know just the place. I can make a reservation tomorrow if you-”
Steve winces. “We should probably take care of that little matter concerning my dad first, don’t you think?”
Eddie wheezes to a stop. “I- … You mean it’s a yes? You’ll actually let me take care of it?”
Steve shrugs. “Yeah, well … The other option is leaving town and starting all over again in some other place, and I’m getting kinda tired of that. Plus, I really want that steak now.”
Eddie feels his face break into a feral grin. What he does next probably isn’t the smartest idea, considering his whole resolution of giving Steve space, but he’s never been a smart guy. So he leans in and kisses the bridge of Steve’s nose. It’s brief and featherlight - more chaste than any touch they’ve shared before. He feels that pretty face go slack with surprise under his lips and smiles.
“I’ll show him what it’s like to be ruined,” he promises, squeezing Steve’s hands for emphasis. “I’ll make him rue the day he was born, and then I’ll get you the biggest, juiciest steak in the city to celebrate. And that champagne.”
“That does sound delicious,” Steve says. His voice is quiet and breathy, still a little startled from the kiss, Eddie imagines. “Even though I’m more of a beer kinda guy, usu-aaahly.”
The last word comes out mangled around a giant yawn, and he hastily slaps a hand to his mouth. Okay, so maybe Eddie read the situation wrong.
“Before anything else, though, we should probably get some sleep,” he says. A glance at the clock confirms that it's well after midnight. “You stay here, I'll take the couch.”
Steve watches him stand, surprise written all over his face.
“Wha- … Wait, are you sure? I mean, you don't have to.”
Eddie pauses in the open door to wag a finger at him.
“Oh, I absolutely do have to. Who do you take me for? Tommy Hagan?”
Steve laughs softly. In the hazy light of the bedroom lamps, Eddie imagines color blooming high in his cheeks, but when he speaks, there's a coy amusement in his voice that makes the well-familiar jealousy behind Eddie's collarbone raise its head.
“You're most definitely no Tommy Hagan, believe me.”
“What do you-” Eddie starts to say, but Steve winks and shakes his head.
“Maybe I'll tell you on our date. Sleep well, Eddie.”
Eddie closes the door. He feels a bit like a sleepwalker as he makes his way to the dark living room, where he sinks down on the sofa and fishes a cigarette from the package lying on the table. As he takes the first drag, the thin sliver of light falling out from under the bedroom door goes out. Eddie sits, unmoving like a guard dog, and stares into the dark for a long time, mind running through a million thoughts.
Steve is in his bed.
He could've had him years ago, if he had played his cards right, and tonight, he almost lost him again. Except he didn't. Except Steve stayed, and he accepted both Eddie’s clumsy declaration of love and his help. Eddie doesn't know what he's done to deserve this much dumb luck, but he knows one thing. He's not gonna let it slip him by.
He takes another long pull of his cigarette, lets the burn of the smoke in his lungs mingle with the anger in his veins, and smiles into the darkness.
Harrington senior better get ready to roll.