Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all started with a phone call.

“Oh my God Robin,” Eddie's voice echoed down the phone line, getting more and more riled up, clearly exasperated with all her doubts, “it's LA, it's the music industry. Everyone is fucking everyone in every possible combination and no one gives a shit.”

“I don't know Eddie…”

“Look, you can stay in no-fucking-where Indiana, crushing on straight girls and being miserable or you can come here to the bright lights, sunset strip, and actually get laid.”

She twisted the phone cord between her fingers, thanking her lucky stars that she was alone for this particular conversation.

“It's all right for you, dorkus, you’ll sleep with anyone. You have options.” 

“Rude. I have standards too, you know. And don't change the subject. I mean what’s stopping you? Did you know there are no unhappy lesbians here. Want to know why?”

Robin groaned. “I seriously doubt that but ok, I’ll bite, why?”

“Because ninety percent of girls wear a bikini everywhere and they are all fucking each other. Now stop resisting and come and have some fun for once in your life! And bring Steve, he must have fucked every available woman under thirty in a twenty mile radius by now. It's time he tried something new too.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. I think I prefer when dingus starts going on about boobies.”

“Look, I miss you guys. Are you going to make me beg?”

She didn't make him beg. And that's why she's sitting next to Steve in this club. Over two thousand miles away from home. Wearing a borrowed Metallica t-shirt and surrounded by more leather and lace and skin than she's ever seen in one place. 

“Here you go!” 

Three bottles clink as Eddie deposits them onto the table. He's grinning really wide, has been ever since they arrived at the door of his tiny little studio apartment. It's infectious in its joy, and she grins back. Even the obviously uncomfortable Steve manages a genuine smile in return. Honestly, she hasn't seen Eddie this happy since the day they told him Creel was dead, and Hopper’s shady government contact got all the charges against him dropped. His happiness makes any amount of social discomfort worth it. Even if she's pretty sure, despite Eddie's confidence, that not a single girl in this place will give her a second look. Unless it's to wonder what on earth she’s doing here, of course.

The music pounds around them. Wailing guitars. Frenetic drums. Growling and screeching vocals. Somehow they still manage to carry a shouted conversation, or Eddie does. Occasionally someone will come along and tap him on the shoulder, and he introduces them. No one looks at them with anything more than polite disinterest.

“So, anyway,” Eddie's busy recounting what he claims is their wildest gig so far, “when I shoved the second drunk asshole off the stage the crowd just…”

Whatever the crowd did gets lost as a slim, shirtless guy barges between them.

“Eddie!” he exclaims drunkenly, collapsing dramatically across Eddie's lap.

“Jesus Christ, Lee,” Eddie rolls his eyes at the interloper. But he doesn't shove him away, she notices. His hand rests on the guy's leg, high up his thigh, fingers making wrinkles in his tight black leather pants. She's expecting some kind of smart comment from Steve, but he suddenly looks very interested in his beer. Odd.

“I missed you! Where have you been,” the guy whines, interrupting Eddie's attempted introduction. Totally ignoring them, he leans in and kisses Eddie's cheek.

“Around.” Eddie throws his head back, getting himself out of the firing line of another kiss. “Now fuck off, I’m talking to my friends,” he says, good-naturedly.

The other guy sighs, but doesn't protest when Eddie pushes him off his lap. Steve freezes, his beer half-way to his mouth. She follows the path of his gaze to find it's stuck on Eddie's hand against the guy's bare skin.

And, ok, he's being kind of obnoxious but what is up with Steve? He's never reacted this way with her. Quite the opposite, he practically threw her at Vickie. Cheered when it seemed to be working out, and commiserated like any friend would when she left for college with barely a backward glance. 

“Bye Eddie's friends!” the guy calls, sauntering off into the crowd, “see you around.”

“We’re not here to get in your way,” Steve grumbles. He's looking down again, shredding the wet label off his beer bottle. She kicks his shins under the table and it makes him glare at her, cheeks a little pinker than normal.

“Don't you worry Steve,” Eddie says easily, ignoring his attitude, “I’m good.” He gestures at her with his beer bottle. “Today is all about getting Buckley laid.”

Of course, he had to say it just as she took a sip. His words make her choke on her beer.

“Eddie, I don't think that's going to happen here,” she says when she recovers.

“What? Didn't you hear me on the phone?”

“I did, but, I mean, I have eyes. I don't think I’m the kind of girl anyone here is looking for.”

Eddie shakes his head. “No offence, Buckley, but you're talking shit, and I won't have it.”

She opens her mouth, but he doesn't let her speak.

“I’m serious!” he insists. “So you're not a metalhead, who cares. You’ve got hometown charm going for you and believe me that is just as good.” Eddie's eyes flick to Steve, like he's waiting for backup, but he's just staring black at him with a dumb look on his face. Eddie shakes his head.

“And you’ve got a secret weapon that no one else here has,” he says, leaning in conspiratorially.

“What?”

“Me,” he gestures to himself with a smug grin. “I'm one hell of a wingman. So, have a look around, anyone take your fancy?”

“But what if they're not…”

“Don't worry about that, just take a look and I’ll tell you if you're barking up the right tree.”

With a dutiful sigh, Robin casts her gaze around. She's about to turn back to her friends, too overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, when the crowd shifts and moves and a girl wearing a neon pink mesh top over a black bra appears. Strutting through the huddle like she owns the place. Torn fishnets covering her legs, drawing Robin's eyes up from big black boots to a black leather miniskirt covered in silver jangling chains. Her hair teased out into a wild tangle framing her face. Dyed the rust red of fall leaves, apart from a couple of inches around her roots, which show what must be her natural chocolate brown colour. The girl's eye makeup is even more dramatic than her hair. Thick black stripes of shadow sweep across each eye, the edges square against her skin.

And her eyes, surrounded by all that black, are deep and warm, and more beautiful than she's ever seen on any other woman.

“So, Mary, huh?”

Eddie's amused voice makes her jump, snapping her attention back to her friends and Eddie’s shit-eating grin.

“Shut up, dorkus,” she snaps, but when the girl walks past them towards the bar she can't stop her gaze wandering back over to her. Something about the way she holds herself is too mesmerising. It's the confidence, definitely, she's not just thinking about what her skin might feel like through all the holes in her clothing, not at all. Or if the texture of the colourful tattoos down her arm would feel different.

Eddie snorts, and downs the last of his beer.

“Right, follow me,” he grabs her hand and pulls her to her feet.

“Wait a minute,” she stammers, “we’re just going over there?”

“Of course!” Eddie answers. “We don't have the months it takes for your usual dance. And before you ask, you picked well, Mary plays for your team. Just…follow my lead and go with it.”

“Go with what? Eddie, what are you doing?” 

Eddie doesn't answer, turning away and tugging on her hand until she can't help stumbling towards the bar.

“Steve?” she tries, but he's too busy grinning to be any help. He waves his hand in a shooing gesture. She glares at him as she's pulled away.

“If you're here to gloat about getting second billing at Sal’s last week, Munson, I’m not nearly wasted enough to hear it.” The girl says as Eddie leans up on the bar next to her.

Oh no, she's really in trouble now. Mary’s voice is low and melodic, and sends a shiver down her spine. Words. She has to remember some words to say to this woman. But not too many. What had Steve said? ‘Always stop the sentence before you think you're finished.’

“Nope, not here about that,” Eddie says, pulling Robin towards him until she's caged at the bar between him and the girl. “Mary Mayhem, meet my friend Robin. Robin, this is Mary, lead singer of Mobocracy, the best punk band in LA and our only real competition for getting an actual record deal.”

“You are so full of shit Eddie,” Mary throws back a shot, then turns to face him. “First of all…” she trails off. Robin flushes as Mary looks her up and down. 

“Hi.” Mouth dry, Robin wiggles her fingers at the other woman. Oh god, really? Hi? Is that the best she can do? To her immense shock she gets a smile in return.

“Since when do you have actual friends?” Mary throws the fake insult at Eddie with the fond contempt of an old friend. Although, she only half looks over her shoulder at him. Most of her attention remains on Robin. And being the focus of this woman's attention might be the most exciting thing that's ever happened to her in her life.

“Would you believe me if I told you we went to school together?” he says.

Mary snorts. “I don't believe you ever went to school.”

“Oh he was there every day,” Robin blurts out. “Mostly smoking in the parking lot, though.” Is this what he meant by playing along? She hopes so.

It must be, because Mary bursts out laughing, loud and genuine, while Eddie just shrugs his shoulders with a little smile on his face.

“Well if you ladies are just going to insult me, I’ll go somewhere I’m wanted,” he says, pushing himself back from the bar with an injured air. “See ya!”

He actually winks at her as he struts off. Smug bastard.

“Drink?” Mary asks.

Robin takes a deep breath. What’s the worst that can happen? “Sure.”

She tugs on the sleeve of the Metallica shirt Eddie lent her, trying to get it to slip down her shoulder a little like some of the other girls around them. But it's not quite oversize enough and the damn thing slips straight back up to her neck again.

“You know, I think I’ve got something that would look better on you than that dumb thing,” Mary says. She bites her lip slightly, Robin’s eyes immediately drawn to the quick flash of her tongue peeking out. “I’ve got booze at home. Wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah, ok.”

Mary leans forward quickly, pressing her lips to Robin's. At first, she freezes in shock, but the warmth from the other woman's body is irresistible. She melts into it. The sounds of the people around them, and the aggressive music filling the club, fades away. As soon as Robin relaxes, Mary’s tongue licks into her mouth. A sharp bite of alcohol against her lips.

She's feeling dazed when Mary pulls back.

“Just making sure we're on the same page.”

Through the haze of warmth clouding her mind Robin nods. 

“Yeah, same page. Definitely.”

With a grin, Mary grabs her hand and leads her out of the club. They hurry past Steve and Eddie, who are talking quietly, their heads close together. Eddie grins when he notices her going and her friends wave her goodbye enthusiastically.

The bright lights of sunset strip soon give way to dusty streetlights, casting their pale yellow glow over the two of them. Mary's apartment is far enough away that Robin’s nerves are spiralling out of control by the time they get there. Even though Mary doesn't let go of her hand at any point. 

Her heart is hammering in her chest by the time Mary leads her through a nondescript brown door. When it closes, Mary crowds her up against the wall to kiss her again. Robin finds herself pulling her closer, nerves completely forgotten.

“Wow,” she breathes. “You're really good at that.”

Mary smiles in answer. Her apartment is tiny, although not quite a small as Eddie's, still it takes seconds for them to run across to her bedroom. Her heart still hammering wildly, although now for a different reason. This isn't her. It isn't what she does at all, and yet, she's not nervous. Or, she is, but it's the normal nerves that she’ll say something dumb, or overcompensate and get too snarky. She wants this. Even knowing it's just a one night thing. To hell with doomed romance. This might actually be fun.

The wardrobe in the bedroom is open, several tops and skirts dropped on the bed. Robin picks up a pleated tartan miniskirt.

“Try it on.” Mary grins.

“What, no, it's ok.”

Mary reaches around to the button on Robin's jeans. Her whole body heats up and she can't help a tiny gasp when Mary circles the button with her finger before popping it open. She turns her head, Mary's mouth is right next to hers. They kiss again as Robin’s pants fall down.

“Try it,” she whispers.

“Um, ok.”

Robin shimmies the skirt up. When it's sitting on her hips Mary pulls Eddie's Metallica shirt over her head. She chucks it unceremoniously into the far corner of the room, then stands back. Head held to one side, Mary admires her in just her bra and the borrowed skirt. Robin flushes, her pulse thundering through her veins. She's never been the object of such open desire before.

“I knew it,” Mary says.

“Knew what?”

“That underneath those,” she sidles closer, kicking the jeans on the floor, “was a fierce girl waiting to be found.”

Robin raises her eyebrow. “You think I didn't know it?”

“Oh I like you,” she grins wickedly.

This time Robin closes the gap, and kisses Mary. It lingers, their mouths moving urgently together. Mary's hands circle her waist, pulling their bodies together. The flush from before grows and builds into true heat, running up and down her body. When she trails her fingers down Mary's back the mesh is softer than she expected, each hole teasing with a burst of warm skin. 

Together, they collapse backwards onto the bed, Mary holding herself up over her, their mouths still connected. Totally wrapped up in the overwhelming heat building between them. 

She pulls the mesh out of the waistband of Mary's skirt. It isn't exactly hiding anything, but Robin pulls away from her mouth long enough to drag the scrap of material over Mary's head anyway. Instead of kissing her mouth again, the other woman nuzzles into Robin's neck, one hand coming up to cup her breast over her bra. Pushing up on her elbows, Robin gives Mary the space she needs to reach behind and unclasp it. 

Once it's gone, she crashes back down, her shoulders hitting the pillows. Mary's mouth closes around Robin’s nipple. She gasps and sinks her fingers into Mary's hair. Closing them against the dry crunch of hairspray holding the back-combed mane in place. Mary's thigh slips between her legs, making the skirt ride up. She rocks against it. Between her legs already slippery and slick, arousal soaking through her panties.

Mary nips her shoulder and across her collarbone, then runs her tongue down. Through the valley between her breasts, down her stomach, and past her belly button until she makes it to the waistband of the miniskirt.

“Want me to take it off now?” Robin teases.

“No,” Mary's hand slides up her thigh, right beneath the tartan stripes. Her thumb rubs Robin's clit through the cotton of her panties. Robin’s breath catches in her throat, her hips lifting off the mattress briefly.

Abruptly, Mary scoots backwards until she's standing at the end of the bed. Robin watches, curiosity, and arousal, growing as Mary reaches behind herself to undo her bra. Her breasts are perfect, round and full. Pert nipples that Robin just wants to wrap her mouth around. They bounce lightly as Mary pushes her skirt down next, taking the fishnet tights with them. She stands again, wearing only black panties edged in lace. 

She's just as incredible naked as she was clothed. As well as the tattoos down her arm she's got a skull decorating her right thigh, which holds a pink jewel in its open jaw. The harsh lines emphasise the soft curves they're inked onto. Robin wants to run her hands over all of them. It's the most visceral reaction she's ever had to a woman. There's no doomed romance here, only shared desire and she wants to lose herself in it. Lose herself in Mary's body. Seeing Robin staring at her, Mary runs her finger around the elastic of her panties slowly.

“Let me wear them,” Robin says, the words falling out of her before she can stop them.

Mary's eyes widen.

“They're wet.”

A shiver goes down Robin's spine. She's wet. Because of her.

“Do you like that?”

Robin nods, her mouth dry.

“Ok, that's hot.”

Flinging her legs off the bed, Robin hurries over. Her fingers fumble at the waistband of the skirt she's still wearing.

“Wait.” Mary grabs her hands, stilling them. She kneels and reaches underneath the skirt, delicately skimming up her thighs until her fingers grasp Robin's panties and pull them down. Her head quickly ducks under the skirt and her wet tongue presses against Robin's clit. She gasps as a lightning bolt of pleasure bursts in her belly, her thighs warming under Mary's hands.

She stays there for a while, teasing her clit and curling her tongue through Robin's slick folds, until Robin’s thighs start to shake so badly she's not sure she can stand much longer. When Mary pulls back, a little whine escapes from the back of her throat. But Mary kisses her, letting Robin taste herself on her tongue. Then she steps back, and slides the black panties down and off, holding them out to Robin on one finger.

With no hesitation, Robin grabs them from her. they are wet, and warm, she can feel it against her fingers. She puts them on. Mary's warm slick mingling with her own. Her head swims, and she reaches a hand between Mary's legs. Searching through the hair at the top of her legs until she finds the source of her wetness. She drags the tips of her fingers through her folds, sighing deeply at the wetness still clinging to her. Her fingers travel upwards until Mary gasps as she finds her clit.

It's not enough, she needs to be closer. To lose herself in this woman who carries herself so confidently. Who is so unapologetically herself. Everything Robin isn't in real life.

But this room isn't real life. It's somewhere else. And, wearing Mary's skirt, and her underwear, somehow gives her the bravery to be just as unapologetic about what she wants.

And all she wants is Mary's soft thighs around her face, to taste, to touch, to drive her wild.

“Sit on my face,” she whispers against Mary's mouth. Mary answers with a kiss, her tongue teasing Robin's. Making her even more feverish and out of it.

She barely registers Mary manoeuvring her back to the bed not until she's sitting, then lying.

Elation surges alongside desire as Mary sits across her body. Shuffling up until she's across her chest. Then, she turns, carefully moving one leg and then the other over Robin’s body until she's facing Robin's feet. Robin’s so lost in what's happening it takes her a moment to understand, but by the time Mary's pussy is lowering towards her face she gets it.

Reaching up she grabs Mary's hips and pulls her down the rest of the way, flicking her tongue against Mary's clit. At the same time, she feels a hand creeping into the damp panties she's wearing. Mary's fingers bumping her own clit.

She gasps against Mary's pussy and above her, she hears a moan.

Pleasure building, Robin runs her tongue across Mary's pussy, delighting in the taste of the slick gathering at her entrance. Circling then sucking on the little bundle of nerves near her chin. Noting which spots cause her muscles to flutter, or a distant gasp or whimper. Mary doesn't stop what she’s doing either, working around the awkward angle and borrowed clothes to rub Robin's clit in a way which makes her see stars. Desperate to not get too distracted by Mary’s clever fingers working her up, she doubles down, flicking her tongue even more quickly against Mary's clit.

It's almost like a race, she can feel Mary's thighs shaking under her fingers just like her own are trembling with the tight pleasured warmth building from her clit. Mary's breathing breaking down until little sobbing pants burst out of her. Especially when Robin moans against her pussy.

Then Mary's hands start to tremble too, Robin can feel shudders running down her sides. She wraps her lips around Mary's clit and sucks and sucks and sucks until it begins to pulse in her mouth. Fresh slick leaking from her, coating Robin’s lower face. A ragged cry of pleasure falls from the woman above her and Robin's heart soars. She keeps going until Mary lifts herself up and turns to face Robin again. She's flushed, her chest heaving.

Without saying a word, Mary lets her weight fall on Robin. Their lips meet, this kiss wet and sloppy. Mary's tongue against her chin and lips and then in her mouth, tasting herself on Robin. Her hand sneaks back into the panties Robin’s wearing, this time two fingers slide inside Robin and her hips flex as Mary curls them against the spot inside her which drives her wild. She keeps her fingers moving, opening and closing and massaging Robin's walls. Her thumb taking over the movements against Robin’s clit. Still kissing, her tongue sliding in and out of Robin's mouth in time with the movement of her fingers.

Tingling warmth builds in Robin's belly until it peaks and crests, and her orgasm washes over her in a rush. She clings to Mary's shoulders, her legs winding around the other woman's as she shudders and cries out.

Mary keeps her fingers inside Robin as they lie there, panting, breath bouncing from one of them to the other. Those beautiful eyes on hers, searching her face. Slowly, she pulls her fingers out, then brings them up to Robin's mouth.

With no hesitation she wraps her lips around Mary's fingers, sucking and licking her own juices off them. She could swear there's a little familiar tang there, Mary's slick from the panties. Her rational brain knows it's unlikely, but her body doesn't care. She swallows around Mary's fingers, making the other woman gasp.

Then the fingers are ripped from her mouth, and Mary's on her again, kissing her. Robin's head is spinning, like she's drunk too much. She's barely aware when Mary takes off the skirt and panties and covers them with her blankets.

She's too tired to be embarrassed by the way she clings, limpet style, to Mary's side. Mary doesn't seem to care either. Holding her, gently caressing her sides, until she drifts off to sleep.

They sleep late, and get up slowly. Mary offering kisses and coffee and toast and small talk, lingering despite admitting that she's got to meet up with her band soon. It's almost noon when Robin knocks on Eddie's door. Mary helped her navigate back across town again to Eddie's apartment; then kissed her on the cheek and slipped a scrap of paper in her jeans pocket before she took off. While she's waiting for Eddie, she fishes it out. She can't control the grin on her face when she sees that it's a phone number. Carefully, she folds it and slides it back into her pocket.

What is taking Eddie so long? The rest of his band had offered him to share a bigger place, but after so long living with his uncle in that tiny trailer he’d stubbornly insisted on his own space. Which he has, but it's tiny. And it shouldn't take him nearly this long to answer the door.

She's just starting to worry he might not be home when the door opens and Eddie stands there blinking in the sunlight, barefoot, dishevelled and shirtless. His jeans look like they've been pulled on in a hurry, his hair sticking up all over the place.

“Jesus Christ, did you only just wake up?”

“Umm, something like that. I wasn't expecting you back so early.”

Shaking her head at the idea that this is early she barges past him into the dark room. Her eyes flick to the couch, which is remarkable in its Steve-lessness.

“Where’s Steve?” she asks, curiously. 'It's time he tried something new,' Eddie had said. “Did he hook up with someone too?” 

“Ahhh…”

There's a rustle from the other side of the room. She whirls around, only to find an equally shirtless and dishevelled Steve sitting up in Eddie's bed. Cheeks flushed bright pink. 

“Kind of, yeah,” Eddie's voice croaks. Steve's face goes even redder.

Her mouth wobbles. She tries to hold it in, she does, but the wave overwhelms her and she collapses down onto the couch laughing hysterically, tears falling from her eyes.

Chapter Text

“So are we gonna talk about it?” Eddie demands the second he sits back down, his voice low and gravelly and, thanks to the noise all around them, much too close to Steve's ear. He's not quite sure how it's possible. Eddie's sitting back in the same chair, and it didn't seem to move at all in the few minutes he was gone, but somehow he's closer. A flush travels down his body, the side closest to Eddie warming up uncontrollably. He jumps a little when Eddie's knee knocks against his beneath the table.

It figures. This whole night has been a goddamn disaster from start to finish. Why the hell did he think he'd be able to be cool?

Trying desperately to pull his reaction back to casual, he downs a mouthful of beer. It doesn't work and Eddie's still staring at him, waiting for an answer. Has he ever been silent for this long before? Steve attempts to dry a sweaty palm on his shirt. It feels like he's got ants crawling over his skin.

“Umm, about Robin?” he asks nervously. Eddie snorts.

“Buckley? No, she's fine. Mary knows what she likes and she’d’ve told her to fuck off by now if she wasn't interested. I’m talking about you, grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” he snaps.

“Please, the poor label on that bottle didn't stand a chance. I saw you staring. You got a problem with me specifically, or just the fact I had a guy sitting in my lap?”

Shit, there goes his last hope. Eddie did notice.

“Of course I don't have a problem,” Steve stares at the table, fingers tracing the scratches and graffiti so he doesn't have to see Eddie's reaction, “you can do whatever you like, with whoever you like. It's none of my business.”

“I see. So it's got nothing to do with this hazy memory I have of you kissing me in the Upside Down?”

Steve goes simultaneously ice cold and sweaty. Moisture beads on the back of his neck and under his arms. He was so sure Eddie didn't remember that. After all, he was unconscious, wasn't he? He was barely alive. Steve hadn't even really known what he was doing. It just happened…

“Come on, man, just a little further,” Steve panted. Not sure if the words were to himself or to the man in his arms. His feet dragging through the dirt as they struggle towards the new wide hole in reality, only a few feet away now. The others had just vanished through it when Eddie's head lolled on his shoulder in a way that made deep, awful fear rear up inside.

“You can't die.” The words broke out of him in a sob. Carefully, he adjusted his hold in preparation to lower Eddie through the gate and, without ever making the conscious decision to do it, he pressed his mouth to Eddie's. “Please don't die.”

Once everything calmed down and Eddie was in the hospital, Steve was appalled at himself. It felt so wrong. He wasn't gay. He’d only ever dated women for Christ’s sake. He liked women. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about Eddie? Why did he get flustered every time Eddie invaded his space. Why would he kiss Eddie? An unconscious Eddie at that. Who couldn't even push him away, or punch his lights out. 

He had no idea what to do with any of those thoughts, so he resolved to do his best to ignore them.

Months later, he also squashed down a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach when Eddie confessed to him and Robin that he’d dated both men and women. Call him sheltered, but he’d never thought it could be like that. Surely you were one way or the other? But Eddie wasn't. And he’d kissed Eddie. No matter what he tried, he still thought about Eddie. A lot. But maybe that had just been stress. Eddie didn't remember what he did, so he’d taken that as a sign and never told anyone, not even Robin. Eddie didn't need his bullshit anyway. Not when he was already rebuilding his whole life from the ground up. Then he left Hawkins and Steve decided the distance was for the best. He thought the distance would be enough to forget about it. But now Eddie is leaning even closer into him and he's forgotten how to breathe.

“At first I thought it was some kind of fever dream,” Eddie continues, cutting across Steve's racing thoughts. “I mean, Steve Harrington, king of Hawkins High, kissing the freak? But it wasn't a dream, was it?”

A flurry of footsteps rush past them. Steve looks up to see Robin trailing behind the punk girl, Mary, waving them goodbye with a nervous grin on her face. Eddie grins back and waggles his fingers after her. Steve wishes he could be happy for her too, after all, this is big. The first step out of her shell since Vickie left. But he can't, he's too caught up in his own confusion.

The second the door closes behind them, Eddie turns to Steve again.

“So was it my crazed imagination, or wasn't it?”

Eddie's staring at him, his face far too calm for the turmoil that is Steve's mind. He can't think straight. All he can do is stare at Eddie's mouth, his head whirling like he's drunk much more than two lousy beers. 

'This hazy memory I have of you kissing me...'

He didn't sound upset about it, Steve realises with a start.

“It wasn't your imagination,” he croaks slowly, heart pounding so hard he’s shocked it's not audible above the music, “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have…”

"Do you wish you hadn't done it at all, or do you think maybe you should have done it again when I was awake?” Eddie interrupts.

Suddenly his face feels even closer. Eddie's breath blows warm across Steve's already burning cheeks. He smells of beer and cigarettes and a cologne Steve doesn't recognise. Soft and overwhelming. Under the table, Eddie's hand slides onto his knee.

“I should have only done it when you were awake,” Steve confesses.

“That's what I thought.”

Eddie surges forward, closing the small gap between them. As their lips meet, every muscle in his body goes rigid. The familiar series of movements which usually follow this moment desert him entirely, leaving him frozen like he's never been kissed before. But then the tight knot of apprehension in his chest explodes into warmth and propels him into action. He clutches at Eddie's arm, tight enough to feel the lean muscles beneath his leather jacket. Eddie's tongue flicks against his lower lip and Steve opens his mouth just enough to let it in. Despite the hard table digging into his ribs, elation threatens to lift him bodily off his seat. For the second time in his life he's kissing Eddie Munson and this time it feels right. 

Eddie's hand slides from his knee to his thigh. A trail of heat he can feel through his jeans, and he surprises himself by wishing his had rips like Eddie's so those fingers could brush bare skin instead. After so long telling himself that kissing Eddie was the stress of the situation, his ongoing feelings merely confusion, what's really shocking is how easy this is. How good it feels.

God he hopes that other guy is watching, that he sees how Eddie's kissing him, after he got shoved off his lap and sent on his way.

But hot on the heels of that triumphant thought comes a prickle of discomfort. They're making out right in the middle of a busy club. He wishes he could ignore them, but years of locker room jibes and dark jokes ring in his ears. 

“Is this ok, here?” he pulls his head back to ask breathlessly. His eyes dart around, but to his relief no one seems to be paying them any attention.

“Of course." Eddie shrugs. His mouth is rosy pink. Flushed. His lips shiny. Oh god he's pretty. For once Steve doesn't let his inner voice censor the thought. "Why do you think I come here? Mary too. No one gives a shit.”

Heart still pounding faster than the beat of the music, Steve sinks his fingers into Eddie's hair, pulling him closer.

“Good,” he murmurs next to his lips, and then they're kissing again and the world around him fades away.

Steve trails Eddie through the city streets. Every footstep drives him further and further into a haze of lust and excitement. But no matter how much this long denied part of himself exalts in the unexpected turn of events, he can't shake the thought that Eddie looks like he belongs here. Back in Hawkins he stood out like a sore thumb. Like a being from another world. He doesn't even need to see him perform to know that Eddie Munson was made for these streets, for this world, and Hawkins is just going to be a tiny blip on a grand and crazy story. By contrast, Steve's spent his entire life as a big fish in a small pond. He's a hick. A small town boy who happened to get caught up in something earth shattering, and now that it's over he doesn't know who he is outside of the role he plays in the tiny world he was raised in. What on earth could someone like Eddie, who's clearly meant for bigger and brighter things, see in him?

He almost asks when they reach Eddie's front door, but loses his train of thought in the seductive grin which flashes his way. 

The studio is dim and dark, and Eddie doesn't bother switching on the lights before pressing Steve up against the door and capturing his mouth once more. Desire, simmering just below the surface for the whole walk here, ignites, flares. He pushes Eddie's leather jacket off, it falls to the floor with a thump. All night he's been pretending he wasn't staring at what’s underneath. A loose vest, decorated with an aggressively colourful logo Steve's guessing is for a band he’s never heard of. Wide holes beneath the arms, which revealed tantalising flashes of skin whenever he moved. Now Steve uses them to slide his hands onto that skin, gliding up the smooth contours of Eddie's back. 

His head spins like he's drunk again. The insistence of Eddie's mouth and the firmness of his body both unfamiliar and exciting. Something he’d long thought he'd feel only in his darkest, most secret dreams. Eddie's calloused fingers slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt, making his stomach muscles twitch and jump. Blood rushes to his cock, especially when Eddie groans into the kiss and flexes his hips, rubbing their crotches together. His mouth slides from Steve's, trailing a path of hot breath and wet kisses down his jaw to his throat, making him shudder.

“Oh Jesus,” he gasps.

“Not my name, but I’ll take it,” Eddie murmurs against his skin.

“Eddie, I…”

“Shh,” Eddie silences him with a finger against his lips, fixing him with a serious look. “This is new for you right? A guy?” Steve nods. “Then let me.”

“Let you what?”

Eddie grins wickedly, and slowly sinks to his knees until his head is level with Steve's groin. Steve's knees wobble, his shoulders hitting the back of the door.

“Are you really going to…?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“Oh fuck yes.”

Eddie's face lights up like a kid who's just been told he can get whatever candy he wants. He makes short work of Steve's belt, then brushes teasingly against the denim covering his hard cock as he pulls down his zipper. Steve's breathing hitches, and his mouth goes dry as Eddie grips his pants and underwear and pulls them down to his knees in one swift movement. 

“Oh shit, I…” 

Eddie's hands run up his thighs and a feverish haze banishes whatever he'd been about to say from his mind. He doesn't even have the brain power to feel embarrassed about having his cock out with his pants around his ankles. While his shirt, his goddamn jacket and shoes, are still on for fucks sake. All coherent thoughts flee as Eddie's hot breath lands on his dick, followed closely by his tongue. He shudders as Eddie licks up his shaft, then sucks lightly on the head.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he husks, dark eyes looking up at Steve. He can't answer, just stares down into those eyes, jaw slack.

“You wouldn't believe me,” Eddie sighs dramatically. He presses one kiss to the head of Steve's cock, then takes it into his mouth. With a gasp Steve's hand tangles in Eddie's hair. Not pulling, or even really gripping, he just needs that sense of connection, needs to be touching him somehow while Eddie hollows his cheeks and slowly takes Steve's cock further and further.

It's like a crazy dream, the best kind of crazy dream. Shit, he has dreamed about this, he can finally admit it. He's dreamed about it more than once, and it's almost embarrassing how desperately the tangled mess of dream images and unbelievable reality in his head is making him respond to Eddie. To the wet heat engulfing his cock, his tongue massaging his shaft, the incredible feeling when he sucks and swallows around him. Far too quickly his thighs are trembling, his hips thrusting lightly and out of his control so that Eddie has to grab them to help him keep his movements in time. The sounds forced out of his throat with every breath are deep, guttural. Animal desire pounds through his veins.

Even more incredible, Eddie seems to be really loving it, almost as much as Steve. His eyes are closed, head bobbing over Steve's cock. Making little grunts of pleasure which send pulses of heat through Steve's whole body. He can't stop watching his dick emerging from his mouth, glistening, then vanishing again, and when Eddie takes him far enough that he feels the tip bumping against the back of his throat his whole body lights up with pleasure.

Impending orgasm tingles at the base of his spine, and he wants to warn Eddie, he does, instead of just coming straight into his mouth, but he can't make any words. All that comes out is a strangled moan. His hand tightens on Eddie's hair. He hopes it's enough, and Eddie doesn't mind. An implacable wave rises, making his thighs shake uncontrollably, and then he's crying out as the wave crashes and his dick jerks in Eddie's mouth. Seed spurting out. Mind totally blank apart from the incredible feeling overwhelming him.

When hazy awareness returns, he finds Eddie still lapping at his dick. Like he's making sure he got every damn drop of what Steve had to give and he must have swallowed it all because there's no trace of a mess anywhere. Still fisted in Eddie's hair, Steve's hands are trembling. No one has ever been that intent on him. Even the girls who didn't mind him coming in their mouths would spit, or miss a bit, but not Eddie.

Steve winces as the stimulation suddenly tips over into too much. With a hiss he tugs on Eddie's hair to pull him back slightly. Eddie licks his lips, looking up at him with dark eyes, pupils blown wide with lust.

“You're a natural,” he teases breathlessly. It's so Eddie that Steve can't help a breathy laugh bubbling up in response.

Eddie scrambles to his feet, Steve grabbing him by the waist to help pull him up and steady him. As soon as they're level their mouths crash together again, and this time Steve can taste himself on Eddie's tongue, salt and musk mixing with the lingering tang of his beer from earlier. It's a heady blend, and he can't get enough.

Every time Eddie's hips move it presses his erection against Steve's thigh. His head starts to spin again, warmth bubbling in his stomach. He wants to feel it, to touch Eddie properly. To make him feel as good as he does right now; post-orgasmic glow mixed in with continuous want and something that feels an awful lot like lo…um…affection.

Steve trails his hand across Eddie's stomach and down until he's cupping the bulge between his legs. Eddie grunts into his mouth, his hips thrusting into his grip. God, he's never felt another man’s cock before and dammit he wants to do this properly, but he can't bring himself to break apart long enough to move this anywhere else. His trembling fingers get to work on Eddie's belt, the metal jangling triumphantly loud in his ears when he finally gets it, albeit with a little help. 

The relieved sigh Eddie lets out when his pants are finally open cuts right through to Steve's core. If he physically could, he’d get hard again right now just from that sound alone. He swears he almost does at the next sound Eddie makes, when Steve reaches in and caresses his straining erection. A delighted shudder goes down his back and he grips Eddie's cock, a little awkwardly with the lack of space but he manages. Eddie moans, his head dropping down onto Steve's shoulder. He nips at Steve's neck, his tongue flicking out against his skin.

Steve looks down, needing to see Eddie's cock in his hand. It still feels like a dream, but he's actually here. Eddie pressed against him, cock hard in his grip.

“Jesus Steve,” Eddie growls into his neck, hips bucking towards him. “Move...or…something…”

The desperation in Eddie's voice makes a stab of guilt leap through him. He’d been so distracted, he's been frozen in place still for way too long.

“Shit, sorry.” 

He slides his hand up Eddie's cock. Doing this to someone else, the angle is a little strange, but he manages to run his thumb across the head, gathering a smear of the fluid beading there and using it to help glide his hand down.

After a few false starts, struggling to get his arm at the right angle, Steve manages to establish a rhythm. Eddie gasps and starts mumbling a string of curses under his breath. Beneath his shirt, Eddie’s hand grips Steve's hip tightly. Steve can't stop looking down, his eyes fixed on his hand wrapped around Eddie's dick. The tip, red and weeping emerging from between his fingers. The way his foreskin moves as he jerks him up and down. There's something wild, and so erotic about the fact that they're both almost fully dressed still, desperately getting each other off up against the door. He doesn't even care when the door handle jabs him in the back, he just wants to keep on hearing the harsh breathing in his ear, and feel the way Eddie's hips are starting to stutter against his.

Eventually Eddie leans so far forward into him that he can't see anymore. Steve shifts the grip on his free hand up to Eddie’s shoulder. It ends up almost around Eddie's neck, resting half on skin and half on his vest. His thumb settles in the hollow of Eddie's throat, gently pushing and holding him there so he can keep watching the movement of his other hand on his cock.

“Oh my fucking God, Steve,” Eddie groans, eyes fluttering shut. The muscles in his throat move as he swallows hard and Steve suddenly feels about ready to combust all over again. Eddie's breathing accelerates until, with a long moan, his cock pulses in Steve's hand. Warmth trickles over Steve's fingers. He keeps moving, slow and steady, the way he likes it when he comes. He's not sure what Eddie likes yet, but the movements seem to be working judging by the reaction he’s getting. He keeps going until Eddie's limp in his arms.

“I think I ruined your shirt,” Eddie gives a shaky chuckle and Steve looks down. Sure enough, there's a distinctive splash across the part of his t-shirt covering his lower stomach. 

Steve stares at the mark left there, at Eddie's come, cooling on his hand. He lifts his hand to his mouth and tentatively licks at some of it. Salt bursts on his tongue, much stronger than the dim echo he got of his own taste from Eddie's mouth. Eddie watches him, jaw slack, as though he can't believe his eyes.

“I don't care,” he says, wiping the rest of Eddie's release off on his shirt and Eddie's face breaks out into a wide, wolfish grin.

“That's the spirit!” he teases, then his mouth is back on Steve's and he's pulling him away from the door and into an awkward stumble across the room. Legs trapped by his pants still around his ankles, Steve attempts too big of a step and falls, pulling Eddie with him. Somehow Eddie manages to direct their momentum towards his bed - thank god his place is so tiny - so they land, still clutching at each other, on the mattress.

Eddie slides to the side and pulls his vest over his head in one quick motion. Steve toes off his sneakers, writhing to push his pants, socks and underwear off too. By the time he's escaped his jacket and t-shirt, Eddie's naked as well, breathing hard and his eyes roving up and down Steve's body. And Steve has to take a fucking moment because it's suddenly even more real than anything else he’s ever experienced. He's naked with Eddie, this isn't a guilty jerk-off fantasy, the real flesh and blood man is stretched out on the bed next to him, with a look in his eyes like he might want to eat him. He can't believe he's actually here. 

Slightly worried that everything might vanish when he moves, Steve reaches out and trails his fingers down Eddie's largest new tattoo. A rattlesnake, baring his fangs just above one nipple while the body twists and coils down Eddie's chest and across his stomach. Shaded brown and black scales camouflaging the worst of the scarring littered all over him.

“Like it?” Eddie asks, chest rising and falling even quicker now. “I’m gonna get some lightning bolts added, you know, in memory, but, ah,” his smile turns self-deprecating, “no bats.”

“I like it,” Steve manages to choke through a dry mouth. His palm flattens on Eddie's waist, over the tail of the snake, covering the rattle.

They move at the same time, Steve reaching up as Eddie leans down, crashing together like a wave meeting the shore. Kissing this time with Eddie's naked body pushing him down into the soft mattress.

He's starting to think he could kiss Eddie Munson forever. The man seems to revel in it, like Steve's mouth is his new favourite place to hang out. The press of their bodies together just an added bonus on top of the delight of stroking Eddie's tongue with his. The wet sound of it filling his ears, along with their tiny little grunts and moans. He's halfway to hard again, just like Steve is. 

He whines when Eddie pulls back, but it's only to encourage Steve to shimmy up the bed until he's properly comfortable with his head on Eddie's pillow, then he goes right back to his exploration of Steve's mouth. His hands roam down Steve's side and, god, now they're flat against each other Eddie's dick is pressed against his own. Hot, and hard and sliding against Steve's whenever his hips move, which is starting to be more and more as his body responds to Eddie's. Head whirling, feverish, desire twisting and building in the pit of his stomach even though he's come once already.

But even though his body knows what it wants, his head is all at sea. With a woman, he knows every step of the dance. Point A to point B to point C and so on through to the end. Here, he's not sure what to do next. Kissing and grinding feels amazing, but Eddie knows this dance, and Steve's starting to worry that he'll be expecting the next move, when Steve has no idea what that is. Are there signals Eddie's giving about his preferences that Steve can't interpret?

“What, ah,” Eddie's teeth tug at his earlobe interrupting his words, “what do you want, Eddie?”

Eddie pauses, searching Steve's face.

“Baby steps, big boy,” he grins, “no need to jump straight to the major leagues.”

He bends down and licks Steve's chest, briefly nipping and sucking his nipple on his way to lean across to the cluttered nightstand next to his bed. With a clatter he shoves around the things on top, searching until, with a little whoop of triumph, he grabs a battered and half-empty blue and white tube.

“I can make us both feel good.” He waggles the tube, then squeezes a generous blob of the contents out into his palm. “Just lie back.”

Eying the lube with a little trepidation Steve does as he's told. Supporting his weight on one elbow, Eddie's body covers his again. He ducks his head to one side, attaching his lips to Steve's neck, licking and kissing the skin there, while his other hand, the hand with the lube, reaches down in between their bodies.

Steve's hips thrust wildly up when Eddie's warm hand wraps around both their cocks. Heat pulses from the tight grip, making him gasp loudly.

“See,” Eddie murmurs against his skin, “I’ve got you.”

Eddie's hand starts to move, the slick sound of it loud even over their panting breaths. It's so much, the press of the other man’s cock and the tight grip sliding easily up and down his shaft. Steve clutches at Eddie's arms and shoulders, while Eddie continues to jerk them both off, laying a trail of kisses across his neck and chest.

Soon his hips are thrusting up into that grip, in a rhythm with Eddie's which makes their cocks slide together deliciously. He's moaning almost on every exhale with the wet glide of Eddie's fist.

“Oh Jesus, Steve,” Eddie whines into Steve's neck. The skin pressed against him feverish with desire, clammy. Heat from their breath and bodies enveloping them. Turning Steve's mind to jelly, a mess of want and lust and pleasure. Every nerve ending in his body laser focussed on the mounting ecstasy growing with every second.

God, Eddie's cock is the most incredible thing he's ever felt. Suddenly he wonders what it would feel like inside him. Stretching him. Filling him. His stomach clenches, the muscles twitching with a sudden fierce desire which takes his breath away. His mouth opens, ready to beg, plead, for something, he's not even sure what, but no words come out, only a long low groan. His thighs are starting to tremble and shudder. So are Eddie's, his movements getting jerky, sloppier. Hot, wet breath against his shoulder. Whining in desperation.

“Feels so fucking good,” he whispers, “please tell me you're close.” All Steve can do is nod. His hand trails down Eddie's back, rubbing over his ass and pulling, forcing the other man to keep grinding on him.

In the end it's Eddie who comes first, with a low pitched whine in the back of his throat and his eyes squeezed shut. His cock jerks against Steve's, warm come dribbling between them and that sends Steve over the edge as well. With a hoarse cry a wave of warmth and pleasure crashes over him. Dimly, he's aware he’s chanting Eddie's name under his breath, and Eddie's still groaning into his neck.

Gradually, the wave subsides. Eddie rolls onto his back next to Steve, chest heaving.

“Shit, man.”

All Steve can do is nod agreement, and watch Eddie's expression change from wonderment to amusement as he does. 

Eddie's hand rests on his belly, his fingers shiny and slick with the lube and their combined release. After a few seconds he rolls off the bed, away from Steve, who can't take his eyes off the lean muscle of his back and ass as he walks towards the tiny bathroom. He gets caught as soon as Eddie flicks the lights on. His mouth twists in amusement and he washes his hands, grabbing a little hand towel off the floor to dry them. He brings the towel back to Steve and hands it over. Steve wipes away the rapidly cooling stickiness from his cock, then Eddie takes the towel and flings it into the corner of the room. Into a pile of clothes Steve really hopes is his laundry pile.

Together they dive beneath the duvet. Steve holds himself stiffly. Normally, this is the part where he’d let a woman cuddle close to him, but he's not exactly sure who should be cuddling who in this scenario. Or what any of this means, about him, about Eddie. Is there a him and Eddie now? Is that what Eddie wants? Is that what he wants?

“You ok over there?” Eddie asks, rolling on his side to face him. He sticks a hand out and rests it on Steve's stomach. 

“Yeah,” Steve chokes. “Just, um, processing.”

“Come here,” Eddie shuffles closer, pulls Steve into an embrace. For all his uncertainty, Steve lets his head rest on Eddie's chest.

It's warm, and comforting, and Steve slowly drifts off to sleep.

Chapter Text

“That's not helpful Steve!” Robin wails, pacing too and fro across the Harrington's kitchen. 

They're alone in the house, his parents in another state like always it seems these days. On their never ending tour of his dad's business associates. Chasing those all important leads and contracts. Or just avoiding their failure of a son. Who knows. At least it means they have a location other than his car for these kind of conversations. The kind not meant for the ears of any other Hawkins resident.

“Look,” he tries again to cut through her, frankly ridiculous, panic, “all I’m saying is, over the last couple of months she’s called you pretty regularly and you’ve called her. Maybe this isn't such a bad thing.” He wishes she’d stop moving, he's starting to get dizzy. “You like her, right?” he pleads.

“Of course!” Robin throws her hands into the air. “That's not even close to being the problem.” Steve thanks whatever deity was listening when Robin drags out a stool, metal legs screeching against the tile, and sits at their breakfast bar, slapping the offending piece of paper which started this whole rant down onto the white polished surface. “She thinks I’m someone I’m not. She met me in a club and I jumped right into bed with her.” Robin flushes, but her brief moment of embarrassment doesn't derail her tirade. She presses a hand to her chest. “That's not me. I don't do things like that. If I'm there all the time,” she jabs her college acceptance letter with an accusatory finger, “and we actually date…”

“Maybe she'll find out she likes you even more,” he interrupts. “Who knows?! No one! You can't know until it happens.”

Robin growls in frustration and buries her head in her arms.

“Look at it this way,” he tries again, “are you seriously going to turn down an offer for college because you're worried you might date a girl you like and maybe possibly break up at some unspecified time in the future?”

“No,” she whines, the word muffled against the kitchen counter. She lifts her head, to his great relief looking much calmer, or at least more resigned. At this point he’ll take resigned. “But I would like some space to freak out!”

“Freak out all you want, but isn't this the whole reason you applied out of state anyway? I honestly think this will be the best thing for you. Get away from here, away from all the small minds. You’ll have a chance to be yourself.”

“We will, you mean,” Robin glares at him accusingly. Steve's mouth opens and closes in bewilderment the sudden shift in energy. The walls around him feel like they're closing in, or crashing down. Maybe both.

“You said you would move too!” she screeches. “If I got in, especially to UCLA, you said you didn't want to be stuck here alone with everyone else moving on. And that was before you and Eddie…” the blood drains out of his face as she trails off, brows knitted together with concern. “Did something go wrong between you and Eddie?” she asks, much more quietly. Shit. How the hell did this happen so fast? He was in control, then two seconds later, bam! It's him on the defensive. 

“No, of course not, at least, I don't think so,” he stutters. The kitchen counter at his back no longer feels supporting, holding him still while a tornado passes in front of him. Now it's a trap. Keeping him there, under her scrutiny, her awful worry. “It's just…” she stares at him in silence. He didn't even know she was capable of being silent for this long. But she is. Waiting and waiting until eventually Steve sighs, and gives in. “I haven't exactly spoken to him since we left."

“You haven't…!” she jumps off the stool and resumes pacing, gesticulating wildly. “And you're lecturing me about being myself and taking a chance?! What the hell, Steve, I’ve spoken to him at least once a week. Why didn't he tell me?” She rounds on him, an accusing finger pointed at his chest. “Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you call him?!”

“I don't know, alright!” It's a fucking lie, of course he knows. He didn't call because as well as being a failure he's a god damn coward and that's all there is to it. “I don't know, but how can I move to LA, now…”

The sound of Steve's back door, the one which leads directly into the kitchen, crashing open interrupts the rest of his sentence. He and Robin whirl towards the sound to find an open mouthed Dustin Henderson staring at them both. Steve's mouth jams shut, but the unsaid words hover just in front of him. Moving to LA now, after he's ignored his friend and the best lay of his life for two months is asking for heartbreak.

“I'm guessing this is a bad time,” the kid says.

“Yes!” Robin snaps, at the same time as Steve answers tiredly, fingers digging into his eyes.

“No.”

Dustin rolls his eyes.

“Ok,” he says, in that supercilious way he has when he's about to start a lecture, “no one else is willing to say this to you guys but this is getting out of hand now. You’ve been totally weird since you got back from seeing Eddie in LA.” A strangled noise of protest erupts involuntarily from Steve's throat, to which Dustin holds up a hand. “Yes, everyone has noticed,” he continues as though that noise were some kind of question, “even Mike, and he's too busy sucking face with El most of the time to notice anything. But it's obvious what's going on. You hooked up, didn't you?”

Steve goes cold. No, he goes fucking arctic. His body freezes solid like a glacier. He shoots a glance at Robin who’s gone pale, looking almost as frozen as he feels. Shit. He's not ready to deal with any of the kids knowing about him and Eddie. Especially not when he doesn't even know what it means, or if there even is a him and Eddie left after what he's done.

“Did Eddie say something?” Steve hates the way the question sounds like an admission, but it's the closest thing he can manage to a denial without actually lying to the kid. And besides, if Eddie has said something to Dustin, well then this becomes a whole different conversation.

“No, he's been a real jerk about it, won't tell me a goddamn thing,” Dustin says, “but for god's sake don't try to deny it,” he bulldozes onwards. “You did it and now it's weird. For Christ’s sake, you two need to work it out.” The kid gestures between Robin and Steve and Steve's knees go weak with relief. The little dork thinks he slept with Robin. Jesus fucking Christ. Dustin doesn't notice either his relief or the shift from terror to annoyance. Barreling on with his familiar refrain. “You like each other. I don't see what the big problem is with just dating at last!”

“Henderson, it's not…that's not what happened, Steve groans. “Is that what everyone's saying?”

“The people who care about you and want to see you happy?” Dustin’s curls bounce self-righteously. “Yes, yes it is. So if you can't be together here, for whatever reason, move to LA and be happy together there. For Christ's sake!”

“Did you come here for any reason other than butting your nose in where it doesn't belong, shrimp?” Robin asks pointedly. Gratitude almost brings him to his knees. Seriously, he could hug her for buying him just a little more time until he has to try and say something approaching normal to the kid.

Of course, Dustin isn't cowed, he shakes his head, which doesn't disguise another eye-roll.

“Whatever, keep pretending then. You’re only making yourselves unhappy.”

“What do you want, Henderson?” Steve forces the words out. Luckily, Dustin seems to be too caught up in himself to notice anything wrong. And he does at least hold his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright! I came to ask you, Steve, if you are working later tonight.”

“Tonight? Why do you…?” Realisation dawns. Of course. The little shit. “No,” Steve shakes his head. “No way, I’m not giving you any more free movies, absolutely not!”

“Oh come on! It's Lucas's birthday!”

“So go to Chuck-E-Cheese with the rest of the toddlers and leave me alone.”

“Steve!” Dustin pleads, elongating his name by at least four syllables.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. Who is he kidding? This is only going to end one way.

“Jesus Christ, fine, I’m on from four, ok?”

“Thanks, Steve, you're the best!” the kid gushes.

“Just get lost before I change my mind.”

Stuttering more thanks, Dustin wheels around and speeds out of the door. As soon as the door bangs, Robin turns a smirk on him.

“Gee, I can really see why you want to hang around here and babysit for the rest of your life, instead of coming to LA with me to get down and dirty with your new boyfriend.”

Urgently, Steve shushes her, craning his neck towards the door to make sure Henderson really has gone. It would be just like the kid to have magically reappeared at exactly that moment.

“For fuck’s sake Robin,” he hisses, “he's not my boyfriend. I don't even know if we're still friends.” 

“Well then it's time to call him and beg for forgiveness, dingus. Because in three months, we’re moving.”

Steve doesn't bother to turn on any lights when he gets back home after his shift at Family Video. He's had far too much light and noise tonight, with the kids appearing as threatened to scam him out of yet another free rental and Robin’s constant excitable chatter about LA. Her movie choice, To Live And Die In LA, may also not have been the best to showcase the benefits of moving to the city. Although louder than all of that was her pointed silence about Eddie, which lasted all the way through their shift.

He picks his way through the dark and empty house, thinking to grab a beer from the fridge, but part way there he changes his mind. Alcohol is the last thing he needs when he's already struggling to put together coherent thoughts. Instead, Steve sighs deeply and throws himself down on the sofa. The quiet cocooning him into the closest thing to peace he’s likely to get.

Although he can't see it, the phone looms large. Sitting accusingly on the wall in the kitchen. With one thing and another there’d been no chance to really talk during that last day before they had to leave, and certainly no chance to do anything other than the odd brush of their hands together. At Eddie's place their hug goodbye had been long, and closer than usual. And his face had burned for at least an hour after Eddie had pulled him in through the driver's side window and kissed his cheek one last time, right there in the broad fucking daylight of the airport drop off.

When he got home, he wanted to call Eddie, he did, but he had no idea what to say. Even if he did tell him how much he enjoyed it, and wanted to do it again, how he felt, how could they ever make anything more than friendship work? Eddie's in LA, and his future is barreling towards him. Concerts, tours, travel, parties, recording studios, press, groupies. Everything every aspiring rock star dreams of. It doesn't matter that Steve doesn't know the first thing about music. Eddie's got it, whatever that mysterious ‘it’ is. You can tell by the way people are already seeking him out, starting to orbit around him. They know Eddie's on the way up. 

Meanwhile, he's in Hawkins. Two thousand miles and another world away. The only prospect on his horizon is maybe making Assistant Manager at Family Video, if he can stick it out for another six months without anyone realising just how many free rentals those kids get out of him.

And that's just one of their problems. If he ever admits to his parents that he's in love with another guy, especially a guy named Munson, he’ll be finally and completely abandoned. They might not be here much, and he might already be a huge disappointment, but his mom does at least call to check in every now and then. His dad hasn't sold this house and told him to support himself, yet. 

Even if he did move to LA what would he be but another hanger-on? Or else Eddie's dirty little secret. Eddie would have to pretend publicly that he doesn't exist. What kind of life would that be?

After working through all that, he thought that maybe he should call Eddie to tell him all of it, to call things off, but gently, so they could stay friends. He picked up the phone to dial his number so many times but he couldn't bring himself to do that either, because if he calls it off then he's never going to kiss him, or anything else, again. He's going to have to watch Eddie move on. Somehow be ok when someone else is sitting in his lap, making out in a bar, going home with him. The thought made him sick.

So he didn't call. Let the machine answer for him every time it rang. Deleted every message from an increasingly annoyed sounding Eddie until they stopped coming. He’s been an idiot. As Robin pointed out when he explained it all in the car, by doing nothing he's ended up with the worst of both of those options.

‘Call him!’ Robin's parting shot rings in his ears. ‘At this point you can't make it any worse.’

Without really deciding to move, his feet carry him into the kitchen. He hesitates by the fridge. Maybe alcohol would make this easier. But he doesn't open it. He stares at the phone on the other side of the room.

It might be midnight in Hawkins, but the time difference means it's only nine pm in LA. Not an unreasonable time to call given Eddie's more or less nocturnal schedule. They’ve talked at this hour plenty of other times before that weekend. But how can he call him after all this time? Eddie probably won't be home anyway. He'll be out, playing a gig, or else back at that bar. Maybe making out with that stupid guy who sat on his lap. Or some other guy or girl, not thinking about Steve at all. Over him. Moved on. It's not like there weren't plenty of people out there ready to help him in that particular venture.

“I can make us both feel good,” Eddie's voice whispers in Steve's mind. God damn it, if only that memory didn't still make him hard after two months.

But as impossible as calling now feels, it would be so much worse to just turn up with Robin after months of silence. Quickly, before he can talk himself out of it again, he snatches up the receiver and dials Eddie's number.

To his immense shock the phone is answered after only two rings, but the man’s voice on the other end isn't Eddie's. Flustered, Steve forgets to say anything in reply. His mind racing too fast to pivot to talking to a total stranger in Eddie's apartment.

“Hello? Anybody there?” the voice on the other end says irritably.

“Um, yeah, hi,” Steve stutters. “Is Eddie there?”

“Well he is,” the voice drawls, “but he's a little busy right now.”

Something about the low hum of voices in the background, and the way the guy on the line draws out the word, ‘busy’, makes Steve feel queasy. Hot and sick all at once. It makes him think of Eddie on his knees, sucking some guy off. Or maybe he's with a girl instead. Head between her legs. Maybe there's some kind of pre-show orgy going on in Eddie's tiny little apartment right now.

Whatever it is, it's something that absolutely does not require Steve's presence. And whose fault is that?

“Dude, what the fuck do you want?” the voice, even more annoyed now, breaks into his thoughts. Shit.

“Just, um, just tell him Steve called would you? Ask him to call me when he's free, anytime.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

There’s a burst of laughter and the line goes dead, leaving Steve all alone in the dark to contemplate just how badly he's fucked this up.

“Who was that?” Eddie calls from the bathroom.

Turning his head from side to side he scrutinises his reflection. He’ll never tell her, but Mary was right. Black eyeliner really does make his eyes more dramatic. Not too Twisted Sister liked he’d thought it would be. Subtle and dark. Perfect for tonight, which in the last two hours has suddenly become the most important night of his life.

He's starting to worry about the lack of answer when Marty, the drummer who’d joined Corroded Coffin only last month, leans up against the bathroom door.

“I’ll tell you, dude,” he drawls, “because I know you’ll go crazy if I don't. But you gotta promise to keep your head on straight, alright?”

Eddie nods. From all that preamble, he knows exactly what Marty is about to say. He braces himself to hear it.

“It was Steve.”

It didn't help. It still fucking hurts. He turns away from Marty, although he knows it's futile to try and hide just how much hearing that name feels like a knife to the gut. He's had a front row seat to the aftermath after all.

“I mean it, Eddie,” Marty says. It's as though his voice is coming from underwater, floating somewhere behind him. He can't even hear the rest of the band waiting out in the other room any more. “Graham fucking Matthews is coming to watch us play tonight,” Marty continues. “You need to be on your a-game. You’ve gotta take that fucking pain and use it to make your axe fucking scream. This is fucking Megaforce coming calling. If you don't kill it tonight, who knows when we'll get another chance.”

“I know.” Eddie stares down at his hands, and the white knuckle grip straining against the sink. He swallows hard, trying desperately to push away the two months of fucking hurt that Steve caused him. Bitterness boils in his chest. Two fucking months, and the shithead calls tonight. Of fucking course he does.

“I’m cool, man,” he says determinedly. He looks back up in the mirror. His jaw is clenched tight. Muscle by muscle, he pries his stiff hands away from the sink. “Let's go kick ass.”

“Are you sure you’ve got time to talk?” Robin asks, twirling the phone cable between her fingers. It's a risk, calling Mary while her parents are home, but they’re asleep upstairs, and if she pays for the long distance call herself they usually don't pay much attention to whether or not the number is Eddie's.

“How many times Laura Ingalls?” It had taken Mary precisely three seconds after hearing about life in boring small-town Indiana to start calling her after the character from Little House. Both because of the mid-west connection and also Mary’s staunch insistence that Laura should have ended up with Nellie. “Nine is early here in the city.”

Usually Mary’s sarcastic reassurance would calm her down, but her heart is still pounding in her chest. The news is too big. So of course, her mouth keeps running when really she should just get to the point. 

“...because if you have to go it's totally fine, I can call in the morning.”

“Robin if you don't tell me why you're calling in such a tizzy I swear I will find a way to reach into this phone and…”

“Ok, ok,” Robin interrupts, although she's quite curious exactly what Mary would do. “I got a letter today.”

“And…? What? Was it from a dead long lost relative who's actually European royalty? Spit it out, girl, tell me.”

“It was from UCLA.” The words fall out of her in a hurry, running into each other. She bites her lip at the end to keep from running straight on into more and more sentences. If you don't want to see me again that's fine. We don't have to…I don't expect…

“Oh my god,” Mary shrieks, “are you fucking serious?!” 

“I’m starting in September. They've got a great languages programme. And they were impressed that I managed to translate some Russian from a single recording, so…”

Jesus fucking Christ Robin, stop talking. Yes, it’s great that spinning the whole crazy ‘Russians have infiltrated Hawkins mall’ summer into an innocent story of her linguistic prowess has landed her a spot at UCLA, but Mary doesn't need to know all that. And Robin really needs to know how Mary feels about her coming back to LA, long term.

“You mean you're coming back, for good this time?”

“Well yeah, at least for four years I mean I don't know what might happen once I…”

“Stop right fucking there!” Mary's voice interrupts. “This is the best fucking news I’ve heard in months.” Robin's heart leaps up into her mouth. It's a damn good thing her parents are snoring elsewhere otherwise her mother would be interrogating her about the blush burning her cheeks. “I bet Eddie's psyched to have you moving out here too.”

“He doesn't know yet,” Robin admits. “I kind of called you first.” Her fingers had dialled Mary's number on autopilot, shaking with excitement. Besides, she really hopes that Steve is currently on the phone to Eddie, grovelling and apologising like he's never done before.

“Oh,” Mary breaths. “Wow.”

“Is that ok?”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

She's smiling so wide it actually hurts her cheeks, but she can't stop. She's going back to LA. Mary's happy about it. When she puts the phone down she's going to have to pinch herself hard to make sure this isn't a dream.

Eddie's head is pounding when the ringing phone sinks through his consciousness. With a groan, he reaches across to his nightstand to grab it, only for the receiver to slip out of his hand and smack him in the face.

“Ah!” he cries out. Fumbling with the stupid piece of plastic until he eventually gets it to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Is everything ok?” Robin's worried voice gallops down the line, talking much too fast for his hungover brain. “I’ve been trying to call you for days! Where have you been?”

“I haven't been home much,” he admits. The last few days are little more than a blur of alcohol and passing out on other people's couches. “But everything’s fine.” Except for the awful sour taste in his mouth, blinding headache, and a pulsing pain whenever he thinks too long about a certain dark haired man who once slept in this very bed. “More than fine,” he insists. “Megaforce want to sign us, we’re going to make a real album. In a studio. Not the bootleg live recorded shit.”

“That's amazing!” Robin's shriek slices through him, he lifts the receiver away from his ear with a wince.

“Thanks,” he pulls the clock on his nightstand towards him, blinks at the time display, “so to what do I owe the pleasure of this call at the obscene hour of two in the afternoon?”

“I got it,” she says. “UCLA. We're moving, like we talked about.”

“Congratulations.”

He hates how flat he sounds. Hopefully she attributes it to the hangover and the fact he’s only just woken up. Even though it really isn't. ‘We,’ she says. Of course. That's why Steve was calling the other night. Not because he finally realised what a shitty thing he did. Not to finally declare how stupid he's been. Or that he does love him, he just needed time to get used to the idea. No. They're moving, so Eddie needs to be ok. That's it.

“Steve wanted to apologise,” Robin says. “He couldn't get through either.”

“Yeah, well, I was free for two months before the last few days,” he notes bitterly.

“He just…”

“Buckley, he’s a big boy, he can talk to me himself. Don't get in the middle of it,” Eddie hears a sigh down the line. He forces his voice to come out lighter and happier. “I’m happy for you, I am, and I’m looking forward to having you move here. No matter what.”

“Will you at least take his call next time?” Robin asks. “He feels really bad."

I hope so, the bitter part of Eddie's heart thinks. 

“I promise I’ll talk to him. In fact, I’ll even call him myself, right after this, ok?”

He can imagine Robin's face, teeth worrying at her lip. 

“It'll be fine,” he insists. “I’m sure by the time you move down we'll all be friends again, ok?”

Robin makes a noise he takes as acquiescence. Eddie sits up in bed, tucks the phone between his ear and his shoulder, and uses his now free hands to light a cigarette. Hopefully the nicotine will take the edge of this awful headache.

“Now tell me how Mary took the news.”

Eddie's hands shake on the receiver as the phone rings in his ear. He stares into the empty coffee cup on his nightstand, wondering if maybe the third had been one too many, and that's why his whole body is jittering and jumping now.

The fact it gets much worse when Steve picks up proves that it wasn't.

“I’ll make this quick,” Eddie blurts out, cutting over Steve's surprised apologetic spluttering. “You don't have to worry about me. We don't have to talk about it when it obviously makes you so uncomfortable.”

“Eddie, it's not…”

“Don’t,” he cuts him off once again, “you don't have to say it. I got the message loud and clear. It was just a one night thing, for you. I'm not going to make it awkward. I’m good with being friends.” Friends. If he says it often enough, maybe it will come true. “Let's just leave it there shall we?”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line. He starts to worry that maybe Steve hung up, but then,

“Yeah, ok.”

“Good. Right, well, I’ll see you soon.”

Eddie puts the phone down before Steve can say anything else. What else is there to say? After all what do they really have in common apart from Dustin Henderson, Robin Buckley, and a boatload of supernatural trauma. He doesn't think Steve would be cruel enough to use him as an experiment, so whatever it was; a mistake, or getting swept up in the moment, it doesn't matter.

His eyes prickle, and he wipes them with the back of his hand. He just has to get over it.

Clutching her wash bag, Robin glares at the already full bathroom cabinet.

“Look, Steve I know you've never shared a bathroom before but I need at least one shelf for my stuff,” she calls, fidgeting with the bottles he’s already filled the space with. “How do you even have this much stuff anyway? What is all this…” she turns a bottle in her hand. “Farrah Fawcett spray? Why do you have Farrah Fawcett spray?”

Unexpected silence answers her tirade.

“Steve?!” she shouts. Their new apartment is small. Two beds, one bath, a combined living room and kitchen. He should be able to hear her easily but there's still no answer. With a frustrated sigh, she shuts the bathroom cabinet, leaving the wash bag on the side of the sink and heading off to find him.

Steve's gotten quieter and quieter the closer they got to LA. He still hasn't told her exactly how things stand with Eddie, just that they talked and that he was still moving. Thank God, the idea of dorms terrifies her. Nothing screams fun like sharing a bedroom with a total stranger. But Eddie helped them find this place, both affordable and near him, so they must have sorted something out. 

“Steve?!” she calls again.

He's not in his room, so she turns back on herself to look in the only other place he could be. Sure enough, he's standing in the tiny kitchen. Next to the single box of essentials he liberated from his parents house before moving out, reasoning that they were there so little they’d never notice the missing plates, cutlery, can opener, and so on. According to him it was all mostly for show anyway since his mother rarely did any actual cooking.

She frowns at him, leaning up against the arch separating the space from their living room.

“What's with you? Regretting it already?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head emphatically.

“Eddie’s going to be here soon,” she tries, almost sure that's the source of Steve's funk. “Do you want me to clear out or something? Because I can totally get out of your way. Say hi, exchange pleasantries then go for a long, long walk. It's all good.”

“No, you don't….you don't need to do that.”

“Steve, help me out here, I thought you patched things up? What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing,” he snaps, “it's fine. We’re friends again, alright? Friends. No problem.”

“So why does it sound like a problem?”

Steve grumbles inaudibly, but a knock at the door prevents any further interrogation.

Boys, she huffs to herself.

When Steve doesn't move, Robin flounces across the room to the door.

“Buckley!” Eddie's lopsided grin greets her on the other side. He gathers her into a hug right there on the doorstep. “How's my favourite smart ass? Liking the place?”

“It’s perfect,” she gushes, hugging him back, “but I’ll be better when Steve sorts his shit out in the bathroom. You won't believe how much he has.”

Is she imagining it, or does his hug get a little stiffer when she mentions Steve's name? She steps back. Eddie's grin hasn't fallen but it's somehow frozen, the happiness not quite reaching his eyes anymore.

“I bet,” he says. Is that awkwardness, from Eddie? “So where is King Steve anyway?”

That was definitely forced, and she doesn't miss the fact Eddie's suddenly calling him ‘King Steve' again like they're back in high school.

She restrains an eye roll. Neither of them would thank her for actually banging their heads together. Stupid boys.

She steps back to let Eddie in, nodding back towards the kitchen.

Eddie doesn't drag his feet, exactly, but he's also not bounding across the space like she would have expected.

She watches from the door, exasperated, as they exchange awkward, ‘heys’.

Steve told her they patched things up, but he was clearly lying through his teeth. Did they even talk properly? 

Whatever, they're here now. Maybe they just need a little more time.

“So which room did you take?” Eddie's talking to her again, his back turned to Steve. She frowns at them both, but tells him, and leads him off show her progress in unpacking so far. Dutifully, he looks around the room, chatting normally again now they've left Steve behind in the kitchen.

“Eddie, what's wrong with you guys?” she asks quietly. Hoping he might be more forthcoming than Steve 'stubborn' Harrington.

“Nothing,” he insists. He turns away from her, picking up a book she left out on her desk. He opens it up, theatrically pretending to read.

Fucking boys.

“Eddie, you are not really reading a Russian dictionary,” she says. “Tell me what's going on.”

“We're fine, alright?” Eddie spits. “I just wanted something he didn't. It'll take some time to readjust, but there's really nothing wrong. It happens. Ok?”

“But…”

“Just drop it, Buckley, please,” Eddie begs. The book falls back on her desk with a thump. When he turns back to her he's smiling again, as though nothing happened. “Mary told me to tell you to call her as soon as you get your phone sorted,” he says with the air of a man dangling a carrot in front of a donkey, “and that she's going to be at Sal’s tonight if you aren't too tired to meet up.” His grin turns conspiratorial. “She sounded really enthusiastic about that last part.”

He's deliberately shifting the subject, she knows. She wants to call him out on it, but the idea of going out to see Mary tonight makes her heart flutter. 

“Tonight? Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “It’s not too far. I’ll show you how to get there if you want?”

Honestly, whatever is going on with them, they need to work it out for themselves. Maybe it would be better to get out of their way, no matter what Steve said about it. Meeting up with Mary is like a two birds with one stone situation 

“Thanks, Eddie!”

“Great. Now let's get you guys properly unpacked so momma Steve lets you out tonight. I’ll help you fight a path through his legion of hair products.”

Robin rolls her eyes and punches his shoulder lightly.

She feels wildly out of place walking into the bar in her own clothes. At least when Mary last saw her she had made sort of an effort to fit in with Eddie's t-shirt.

That didn't impress her, Buckley, she reminds herself. And clothes sure as shit didn't keep her calling you for months after. 

Jesus, when did that particular inner voice start sounding like Eddie? She shakes her head, it's probably because he said exactly that to her on their way over here.

She spots Mary immediately at the bar, her hair still rust red, although her roots are much smaller than last time. Her outfit is all black today. Ripped jeans and a vest top setting off her colourful tattoos. She's laughing at something the bartender says and Robin's heart immediately starts pounding in her throat. They've talked a lot over the phone during the last few months but it's entirely different being here. Seeing her in person rather than as a voice at the end of the phone line.

“Hi,” she croaks behind Mary. The other woman whirls around, a huge grin on her face.

“You made it!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around Robin.

If just seeing Mary again made her heart pound in her throat, being pressed against her makes her damn near pass out. The light beachy scent of her perfume has Robin's head spinning.

“Does this mean it's done?” Mary asks, without letting her go. “You're back here for real now?”

“Yep,” Robin tries not to worry about how long this hug has lasted, or the bartender watching them with an amused glint in his eye. “All here and almost unpacked.”

“That's awesome,” Mary shifts her grip to wrap her arm around Robin's waist and turns them towards the bar. “A beer for my good friend here!” she declares.

The barman flashes them a knowing grin, like he knows exactly what ‘good friend’ is code for. Fear, mostly fear, makes Robins mouth go dry, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't even card her. Robin breathes deeply, determined to calm the fuck down. That was the whole point of moving here after all. To be herself, be open. Despite everything screaming at her to drop it and run away, she holds her arm steady around Mary.

She finally relaxes once they're sitting at a table at the back of the bar, although nervous excitement keeps fluttering in her chest.

“So did your parents freak about you not going into dorms?” Mary asks.

Robin bites her lip. Of course she talked the whole thing through with her…and of course she hasn't taken even half of the advice Mary gave.

“I kind of…didn't tell them,” she admits.

Mary’s eyebrows shoot up towards her bright hair.

“They're already totally weird about Steve,” Robin explains in a hurry, “if they knew we were moving in together they might not have let me come.”

“Girl please, you’re an adult now, did you forget that? A college girl.” Mary salutes her with her beer. “So I take it that means you also didn't tell them exactly why Steve isn't someone they need to worry about?” Mary asks quietly.

“I…meant to,” Robin groans and buries her face in her hands. “They were so proud, their daughter going off to college, and I just couldn't do it. Not yet.”

“You know they're going to find out eventually, right? Unless you're planning on actually marrying Steve to hide away forever?”

Robin shudders dramatically. “God no.” She sighs. “I know I need to tell them, and I will, I just need to get through this adjustment first.”

A tiny flicker crosses Mary's face. Relief? Worry? She doesn't know her well enough yet to tell.

“And you probably want to do it before they surprise you with a visit and find out for themselves,” Mary points out sagely.

“When did you?” Robin asks, “tell your parents I mean?”

“When I was 17,” Mary answers. “I’m pretty sure they still think this whole thing is a phase,” she waves her hand around, “LA, the band,” she drops her voice, “girls. But they’re used to it now.”

“I wish I could just like, jump straight to that point.”

“The only way out is through, baby,” Mary says with a grin. 

“Yeah I guess.”

Mary reaches over the table and squeezes Robin's hand.

“I'm glad you're here, anyway,” she says and warmth flows from Robin’s cheeks all the way down to her chest.

Chapter Text

Robin's eyes blink open, only for her to squeeze them shut again against the dim light filtering in through her blinds. Friday morning come far too soon. 

If she keeps her eyes shut, maybe she'll fall back asleep again. She rolls away from the window towards the warm, naked body next to her. Sliding her arm around Mary's waist and luxuriating in the fact that she's here. If only she could fall asleep again everything would be perfect.

But it's no use. She's awake. She can feel the certainty of it in her body alongside the nerves which have been building all week. Her eyes open again, blinking until they’re able to cope with the light.

Mary's asleep, her hair plastered at all angles against the pillow. There's a tiny smudge of eyeliner which she failed to wipe off last night caked into the crease next to her left eye. Robin fights the urge to reach out and rub it off. She wants to watch her sleep, even if it's only for a few minutes more. It still doesn't feel real that she's here. That she wants to be here. 

In the weeks since they moved, they've spent almost every night together. Mary shows up at the end of her shifts at the campus bookstore to meet her out of work. She even came with Steve to drop her off on her orientation day at college. Eddie would have joined them, but he's in the studio from dawn until midnight most days so he missed it. Robin didn't have the heart to call Steve out on his obvious guilty relief about that. He probably wouldn't have let her anyway. Both the irritating dorks are still refusing to acknowledge that there's any problem at all. Even though it’s obvious to anyone with half a brain cell, given they're hardly talking directly to one another. Not the night after her first day at college when they’d passed in the doorway as Steve went to work and an exhausted Eddie arrived bearing beer to hear all about it. Not when the three of them hang out at the bar Steve works at now. Oh no. They’ll stare at each other when they think the other one isn't looking, but talk? Hell no. Even worse, both of them are still in denial, shutting her down every time she tries to bring it up.

If it goes on much longer she's going to have to break her self-imposed restraint and actually bash their heads together.

She takes a deep breath to clear her mounting annoyance, she really doesn't want to think about them right now. Not when she's warm and tired and already fizzing with anxiety for a very different reason.

Being with Mary has been like getting caught in a whirlwind, but in a good way. There's no sneaking around, no guilty pleasures. Just plain fun. Unlike Vickie, who made her second guess every little thing; if Mary wants something, she'll ask, and she usually makes it sound sexy as hell when she does. So when she suggested that Robin could meet all her friends and see a Mobocracy gig all on the same night, she found herself agreeing before considering exactly what she was letting herself in for. It sounded like such a good idea in theory. After all, she wants to see her girlfriend perform, and she really wants her friends to like her.

“Hey,” Mary's sleepy voice brings her out of her spiral. She shuffles closer, and her mouth presses against Robin's cheek. “You’re thinking very loud for how early it is.”

“It's not early,” Robin tries to argue, “it's…” she reaches over Mary to fumble with the clock on her nightstand, “...six thirty?” she reads with surprise. She flops back down on her pillow in defeat. “Shit.”

Mary hums sleepily and snuggles close to Robin again.

“Much too early for an existential crisis,” she teases.

“I’m not having an existential crisis.”

“Meltdown? Tailspin? Uncontrollable neurosis?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. That's why you're wide awake when you don't have class for another four hours.”

Mary props herself up on one elbow and looks down at Robin. She leans over and kisses her.

“It'll be fine,” she says. “I’ve talked about you enough they're sick of me. They’ll be relieved to have the real you in front of them at last.”

Robin sighs.

“Am I really that transparent?”

“You’re beautiful, and smart, and a hopeless romantic, but yeah, you are kind of obvious when you're worried about something.”

But not even the thrill of being called beautiful by Mary can calm the nerves fluttering in her chest. And none of this is happening until tonight. How is she supposed to get through the day? Focus in class? Remember where she's supposed to go?

Something warm tickles her bare shoulder. Mary's lips travelling up her collarbone. Her hand brushes against Robin's breast.

“Lucky for you I know a great way to help you relax,” Mary murmurs against her skin. She slides her leg over Robin's, shifting until she's hovering over her body. Her head ducks down and she starts to lick and suck at Robin's neck. Robin gasps, pressing herself upwards, closer; her arms closing around Mary's waist to hold her in place.

This, also, has been amazing. She'd wondered if the chemistry would wear off, or fizzle out, once they were spending more time together, but there's no sign of that happening so far.

“Yeah?” she breaths.

Mary hums assent against her shoulder, then moves downwards, until she takes Robin’s nipple into her mouth. The wet warmth and slightest hint of teeth grazing the sensitive area has Robin's hands flying up to tangle in Mary's wild hair. Mary's right, any trace of worry has vanished completely. Smothered by a different kind of warmth, carnal instead of cosy, which shoots through Robin's chest, all the way down to her core. Her legs fall slightly open, and Mary slips her thigh between them. Sleep-warmed skin over lean muscle brushes against Robin's clit, and a thin whimper falls from her lips. She bites her lip to hold back any louder sounds.

“Shame the walls are so thin,” Mary murmurs, “I wanna hear you.”

“I…”

Mary shushes her, and stops any further thoughts by kissing her again, her mouth and tongue wet and inviting. Robin's whole body shudders and relaxes at the early sunlight warmth in Mary's touch, the slide of bare skin against bare skin. 

Desire simmers, coiling in her chest. She can't get enough of this woman's mouth, her body. Kissing her back with enthusiasm, Robin's hands roam across Mary's back greedily, her hips undulating, rubbing herself against Mary's thigh. But when she reaches all the way down to Mary's ass, the other woman suddenly grabs her hands and pins them above her head.

“Uh-uh,” she chides softly, a wicked grin on her face. “I’m making you forget. You just have to lie back and enjoy it.”

She switches up her grip, so both of Robin's wrists are loosely pressed against the pillow with just one of her hands, then ducks her head back down to Robin's breasts again. Licking, sucking, nipping, kissing her way from one soft mound to the other and back again.

Her arms aren't really restrained, the grip is much too soft for that, but her muscles clench in anticipation anyway, her breathing accelerating. Then Mary’s free hand slides slowly down her stomach. Gently, her fingers part the hair between Robin's legs. The pad of Mary's thumb finds her clit and she cries out. Mary's mouth pulls into a grin against her chest.

“That's more like it,” she murmurs.

Shit. She really, really hopes Steve is still fast asleep.

Mary works in gentle circles against her clit, occasionally letting her fingers dip down into the wetness collecting between her legs; coming back slippery and slick against the little bundle of nerves which currently holds all of Robin's attention. So much so that she doesn't register at first when Mary’s grip falls away from her wrist. She's got no idea how long she's been obediently keeping her arms there for, but as soon as her hazy, lust-addled mind catches up with the situation she takes the chance to move and sink her fingers into Mary's hair again. Every tug and pull makes the other woman gasp against Robin's chest.

Unexpectedly, Mary shifts and sinks her index finger into Robin's pussy. A jolt of pleasure courses through her body, settling into constant sparks as Mary runs the digit up and down her inner walls.

“Oh baby, you’re so wet. I’ve got you,” she whispers, her gaze locked onto Robin's face, laser focussed on her reactions. “You ready for more?”

Robin nods, her lower lip clamped between her teeth again otherwise she's in danger of waking all the neighbours, not just the friend she shares a wall with. A lascivious smile blooms on Mary's face and then three fingers are stretching Robin out. The sudden stretch and slight burn transforms quickly into almost overwhelming pleasure. Her thighs twitch around Mary's sides, her eyes squeezing shut.

Mary keeps the movement going in a perfect rhythm. All she can do is hold on and feel, and try not to make too much noise. Although she's rapidly failing on that aim. Shit, she's so wet she can feel it sticking to her thighs, which start to tremble in earnest. A coil of tight pleasured warmth builds from her core with every movement of Mary's fingers inside her. She forces her eyes open again, then Mary lunges forward to kiss her again. Her fingers never slow. Robin clutches at her again, her mouth and body her only anchor as a storm of pleasure builds inside.

Mary shifts her movement so her palm rubs against Robin's clit while she keeps her fingers stretching her inside, rubbing over and over again at the spot on her walls which drives her wild.

The trembling gets stronger, running up and down her body. The cries and moans wanting to escape can't get past Mary's tongue in her mouth. They vibrate in her throat instead, shaking it just like the rest of her body. It keeps getting worse until the peak crests, and her muscles freeze as her orgasm overtakes her. Her inner walls flex and squeeze Mary's fingers tightly. Mary keeps rubbing her through it, kissing her, swallowing the sounds of her pleasure.

“Better?” Mary asks when Robin relaxes as the wave subsides.

“I think I melted,” Robin sighs happily, her limbs tired and boneless. Mary chuckles, then slips her fingers out. Sure enough they're glistening and wet when she holds them up for Robin to see. Mary sucks Robin’s juices off them dramatically.

It's too much to take. Robin grabs Mary's wrist then pivots them so the other woman ends up beneath her. She presses one kiss to the inside of her wrist, feeling Mary's pulse racing against her lips, then she travels lower and pushes her legs apart to reveal her pussy.

She swallows heavily. It's gorgeous. Blushed pink and leaking even though Robin hasn't touched her there yet. 

“My turn,” she whispers, then licks up Mary's vulva, from the bottom of her slit all the way to her clit. The taste of her bursts on Robin's tongue and Mary lets out a satisfying gasp. “I can't believe how lucky I am,” Robin says. She presses a reverent kiss to Mary's thigh before going to work in earnest.

Steve still hasn't shown himself by the time Robin needs to leave for college. Hopefully, he's sound asleep and heard nothing. He had a night shift at the bar last night, so he wouldn't have gotten home until at least three in the morning. At least with Mary there Robin gets a ride in her boxy brown Fiat instead of braving the bus. While she's very grateful for that, it does take a lot of effort to ignore the painful rattling chug of the engine, which sounds pretty much like it's about to fall out.

“Remind me again why you don't drive?” Mary asks as they crawl through the LA traffic. The affectionate smile on her face takes any sting out of her words.

“I can barely walk from one side of the room to the other carrying a tray,” Robin sasses back. “Actually scratch that, I can barely walk across a room carrying a cup of coffee without tripping over myself and spilling it everywhere. Do you really want me in charge of large machinery?”

Mary shakes her head. “You're such a dork.” Somehow she makes it sound like a compliment.

“Your dork, though,” the words slip out and Robin only realises what she's done when Mary pulls in a breath next to her - Jesus Christ Robin, it's only been weeks. Way to go, loser. - She sits in tense silence for a second, until Mary's hand reaches across and squeezes her knee.

“My dork. I like that.”

It's supposed to be light-hearted, Robin knows, but it pokes at a part of her that's getting harder and harder to squash down. She's been so happy with Mary these last few weeks that hiding her existence to everyone except Eddie and Steve is becoming a problem. It's like it's always on the tip of her tongue ready to burst free whenever she talks to someone. Even on her calls to her mom, telling Mary-less versions of her adventures in LA in order to avoid awkward questions.

Parking at the campus is as crazy as ever, but Mary eventually manages to find a space. Unlike the other times she's driven Robin to campus, this time Mary climbs out of the car as well. Robin automatically looks around, scanning the crowd for anyone she knows. Stupid, she chides herself. It's not like she has a neon ‘lesbian’ sign flashing above her head. She's just getting out of a car with another woman. It's totally innocent.

“I’m going to grab a coffee before I head home,” Mary says. She bumps Robin's hip. “Someone woke me up early.”

Robin flushes.

“Have you got time to join me?”

Robin checks her watch. She'd love to, especially because of the fog of tiredness still making her brain dull and fuzzy.

“Shit,” she says, “no, I gotta get going or I’ll be late.” 

Mary nods, but can't hide the disappointment in her face. 

“I can come over to yours after I finish today and we can get ready together?” Robin offers.

“Sounds good.” Mary steps a tiny bit closer, still far enough away to appear innocent to anyone watching them. Still, a tiny shiver goes down Robin's spine. “You can borrow some of my clothes again. Maybe even…”

“Hey, Robin!” The breathless voice of one of her classmates, Jackie, interrupts the suggestion Mary was about to make, the very thought of which is currently making Robin's cheeks burn.

“Umm, hi,” she manages. Jackie's been nice to her so far. One of the few female classmates who hasn't insisted on immediately asking about boys. She's much more comfortable to talk to than some of the others.

“Did you manage to get that Russian translation done?” Jackie asks in a rush. “It took me hours. Like, we’ve only just started, what the hell are they thinking setting something like that?”

“I got it done,” Robin answers quickly. Honestly, she hadn't found it all that hard, but she doesn't want to brag. Jackie takes the short answer in stride.

“Who’s this?” she asks, turning to Mary with a friendly smile. “Hi,” she says, shuffling her books so she can stick her hand out. “Are you a freshman too? I haven't seen you around.”

“Uh, no, I’m not a student,” Mary answers, shaking the offered hand and glancing at Robin.

“Oh.”

“This is Mary,” Robin says, “my girlfriend.”

The words chase the last of the tired haze out of her brain. Why did she say that? Why did her brain choose now of all times to take a back seat to her mouth? Jackie stares at her, and the longer the silence drags out the more it feels like her heart might pound right up her throat and exit out of her mouth. Mary must sense her crisis, because she reaches down to grab her hand and squeeze her fingers.

“Oh,” Jackie says again, this time slower and more unsure. She shifts from foot to foot.

“We, um, we should get to class,” Robin says. Hiding her panic behind a mask of nonchalance. Beneath it, she's sweating bullets.

“See you later, baby,” Mary says, and to Robin's shock she leans across and kisses her cheek, very close to her mouth. Her eyes are alight with happiness and more than a little mischief when she pulls back.

Mary heads off in the direction of the nearest coffee shop and Robin resists the urge to run after her. Instead she squares her shoulders, pretending a confidence she doesn't feel, and says to Jackie,

“Shall we?” 

She points towards the entrance to their building.

“Um, ok, sure.”

As they walk off together Robin holds her fear tightly in check. So she isn't reacting with Steve's, admittedly drugged, equanimity. She also isn't running, screaming, or making excuses to get away from her as quickly as possible. That'll have to do, for now. 

Mary leads her down the street towards the club Mobocracy is playing tonight. Top billing, Mary told her proudly, meaning they're on last. Robin's nerves have been jangling all day. They calmed briefly at Mary's but now they're going again. 

She can't believe she let Mary talk her into wearing her clothes in public. What's strange is she doesn't feel uncomfortable, not like she did when she borrowed Eddie's t-shirt. Maybe because she's not advertising a band she's never really listened to. Instead she's wearing the tartan mini-skirt which Mary has declared looks much better on Robin than it does on her, with her own plain black t-shirt and the baggy khaki jacket from The War Zone which Mary does not need to know once travelled to an alternate dimension.

It's not like her, but in a way she kind of…likes. An evolution of her style rather than a leap out of her comfort zone. It would be nice if only she weren't deep in the middle of a panic about meeting a whole bunch of strangers who really have to like her.

“Are you sure I look ok?” she hisses.

“Robin, will you stop?! You saw the mirror, you know how hot you look.” Mary leans in closer, slinging her arm around Robin's shoulder and whispering in her ear. “I thought I made my feelings on the matter very clear.” 

Beneath her makeup, Robin's cheeks heat up. She'd had to re-do her lipstick at least three times before they left. They both had. 

“It's not just because I know what you're wearing underneath, either.”  

Robin's heart skips a beat. Because she's wearing the exact same pair of black lace panties they’d swapped on their first night together. She's suddenly very aware of them, of the lace tickling her hips. The soft fabric against her ass.

Instead of going through the crowd at the front door, they turn down the alley on one side of the building. The side door clangs beneath Mary's fist, and creaks when it gets shoved open from the inside by a middle-aged guy sporting more moustache than hair and a gut straining at his sweat-stained t-shirt. He doesn't say a word to them, just stands aside to let them in.

Mary takes her hand and leads her through the dark and dusty back corridors of the club. Black walls press in around them, the colour making the intermittent yellow lights reflect weirdly. They bounce off the chipped paint, carved in graffiti and a ripped stratigraphy of flyers. Some of which are no more than stray edges of paper held on by glue.

The buzz of the crowd doesn't cover the braying laughter swelling louder the closer they get to a door at the end of the corridor. It sends her nerves spiralling once again. That she's risked her social standing once already today doesn't help. But then while Jackie still didn't seem to know what to say to her by the end of the day, there hadn't been any obvious gossip going on. No torches or pitchforks being sharpened. She’ll take that as a win. For now.

When they reach the door, Mary kisses her cheek, squeezes her hand, then pushes it open.

“What are you fuckers doing here?” she calls as she walks in.

She gets a mix of laughter and insults in response from the six people arranged around the room. 

“Ok, ok.” Mary waves a hand for quiet then threads her arm through Robin's. She gestures at three of the girls, “Vivi, Ginger, and Kira, they're the rest of the band.” She waves toward the others, “and these degenerates are Drew, Maeve, and Seth.”

All of a sudden Robin's outfit doesn't feel outlandish in the slightest. In Hawkins, people would have gawked and sneered at her like they used to with Eddie and his friends. Here she might as well be dressed for church. All of the girls are dressed similar to Mary. A mix of leather, denim, lace and ripped fabric. Chains and pins everywhere. Bleached or dyed hair spiked or teased out. But even they can't beat the outlandishness of the lone guy in the room, Seth. He's wearing a tartan dress which falls just above his knees, with a battered leather jacket and combat boots, and he has the tallest green mohawk she's ever seen.

“Guys, this is Robin,” Mary says. Excitable noises erupt instantly.

“Fuck me, she's real!”

“It’s mystery girl!”

“Hey, we match!” Seth says happily. He bounces over to her, pulling out the pleated skirt of his dress to compare the fabric with her skirt. It's not an exact match, but close. He towers over her, even taller than Steve. He must be six foot five at least, and that's without his hair. 

“Mary has a skirt like that.” Vivi winks significantly at them through her dramatic black and purple eye makeup.

“Do I?” Mary shrugs innocently and pulls Robin into the room. She directs her to sit in a free chair next to Maeve, then keeps going to the battered old mirror on the far side. She scrutinises her makeup, then picks up an eyeliner pencil from the jumble on the little table in front of it.

“It's your first time at a gig like this, right?” Maeve asks. 

“Sort of,” Robin answers, not wanting to seem entirely out of place. “I’ve seen Corroded Coffin a couple of times.” Mary catches her eye in the mirror, but doesn't rat her out that it's not been with their current line up, and only ever in Hawkins. After all, it’s not her fault the band got whisked away into the studio right when she was finally in LA and able to go and support them like a friend should. 

“Right, you're Eddie's friend.”

“I can't believe those little shits actually got picked up,” Ginger groans. “Fucking Corroded Coffin.”

“Jealous much,” Seth teases, shoving her shoulder on his way back to his seat.

“Fuck yeah,” she spits. “We pull crowds just as big as them. I mean look at this place. We even get an actual room back here instead of getting ready in Vivi's van or a back alley.”

“We’ll get there,” Mary says over her shoulder, pausing from her careful application of even more deep maroon lipstick. “We’ve got the demo tape now, it's just a matter of time.”

From their little room, they can hear when the first band goes on, although it's mainly the thrashing drums which carry. The other instruments and the singer are all tinny and muted. They chat through it, but the closer it gets to their stage time, the four members of the band start pacing the room restlessly.

Robin's not sure what the signal is, but the other three all get up to leave at about the same time a few minutes after the noise of the other band stops.

“Come on,” Maeve says, “time for us to go and join the crowd.”

“Oh, ok.”

Robin gets to her feet, her eyes searching out Mary. She's not quite sure what to say or do. Mary grabs her hand, then kisses her lightly on the cheek, clearly wary of smudging her stage makeup.

“Good luck,” Robin whispers. Mary smiles and shoots her towards the door.

“Thanks. Now go have fun!”

“Come on,” Maeve tugs on her arm. “Let's go get a good spot.”

At the slightest nod from Mary, Robin allows herself to be led away. Drew gets a similarly careful kiss from Kira, and follows behind them through the cramped corridor.

Seth takes the lead, and she sees why as soon as they emerge in the packed main room of the club. The three girls follow in his wake as he strides through the crowd, not even needing to push. He leads them right up to the stage, and they take up a spot off to one side. The stage itself comes up to Robin's chest, not cordoned off from the crowd at all. Anyone could jump up if they wanted.

She's seen the Mobocracy banner before, at Mary's place, once she was clear headed enough to actually look around. The black and crimson spiky letters and carefully placed paint splatters look so much better hanging up behind the drum kit than they do when they're taking up most of Mary's lounge.

It's much too loud to talk, so the four of them wait in silence until the lights dim and the band walks out.

Kira waves to the cheering crowd and takes her spot behind the drum kit. Vivi and Ginger don't acknowledge the crowd, but go straight to their positions, hitting a few chords as they go on their guitars. Mary strides straight over to the mic and Robin almost combusts when she winks at her. It's all her usual confidence, dialled up about two hundred percent and Robin's powerless to resist it.

“You can all read!’ Mary shouts into the mic, waving towards the banner behind them. “You know who we are! Let's get this show on the fucking road!”

The crowd screams back at her and they launch into their first song. Mary's voice rings out, a melodic contralto at first which transforms through the course of the first verse into a feral growl.

The immediate explosion of energy at the front of the crowd takes Robin's breath away. It's wild, freeing, alive. All at once, she gets it. It clicks, the appeal of this music. She loses herself in the intoxicating intensity of it.

Steve checks at the clock. Almost midnight. About two hours left to go on his shift. Robin's girlfriend will be on stage by now. He hopes she's having fun. It's not exactly her normal scene. That she's throwing herself into the experience with enthusiasm shows just how much she likes Mary.

At least Mary seems to like her back just as much. Not like Vickie, who turned out to be only in it for the excitement of sneaking around. Mary wants to hold her hand in public, whenever it's safe at least, and introduce her to her friends. It's the least Robin deserves after everything they've been through.

One of the regulars lurches up to the bar. Steve stifles a sigh. He's glad she's having fun but he misses the days he used to work with Robin. The guy he's on shift with tonight spends more time on smoke break than actually behind the bar. As he gets the regular his preferred brand of beer and adds the drink to his tab his eyes sweep the room. There were a lot of potential bar jobs to choose from, but there was something homely-feeling about this place. He's glad he got it. Although often busy, it's still quiet. A place people come to drink and talk. Not particularly dedicated to one scene or another, with a core group regulars who keep to themselves and tip well. Good pay and an easy life, other than the hours, until he works out what the hell he wants to do. His dad hadn't been overjoyed to hear he was bartending, but the fact that he's supporting himself at last meant there were no massive lectures about it. He's not entirely sure his mom has noticed he's not actually in Hawkins any more.

The door bangs, interrupting his thoughts. Panic grips him when the last person he’d expected to see tonight walks through. While he's hung out here with Robin whenever he has an evening that isn't dedicated to music or the occasional need to sleep, Steve absolutely wasn't expecting Eddie to stroll in the door when she isn't there to act as a buffer between them. They're still not anywhere close to normal, despite the wishful lies he tells Robin. Eddie seems surprised too. He hesitates in the doorway, taking in the empty barstool which is usually her seat. After a few seconds he clenches his jaw and lets the door fall closed. Steve's heart accelerates as he gets closer. By the time he slides onto his usual stool, he feels like he might pass out.

“Where's Buckley?” he asks. Up close Eddie looks as pale and tired as ever these days. Huge dark circles under his eyes announcing just how low a priority sleep has become in the face of getting their debut album as perfect as possible. Steve looks at him as closely as he dares. Has he lost weight too? Perhaps he should mention it to Robin. Eddie might let her intervene and help him take better care of himself.

Eddie raises his eyebrows quizzically and Steve realises he's been silent for far to long.

“She's with Mary,” Steve croaks. Shit. He coughs as cover, pretending to clear his throat. “You remember, meet her friends, see the band play. She's been worrying about it all week.”

Eddie groans and digs his fingers into his eyes. “Shit, that's tonight?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods slowly. Wishing he had something else to say. Or that Robin was here again. She's so good at having a conversation with both of them simultaneously that it's almost like the three of them hanging out normally again. Christ, he’d even take having Dustin here. It would be nice to hear Eddie talking happily about DnD again. Or about anything, really. It would be nice to see a real smile from him.

Without bothering to ask, Steve puts a beer down in front of Eddie; although he looks so tired he wonders for a second if he should have gotten him a coffee from the break room instead. Probably not at this time of night, the poor guy has to get some sleep after all.

“Dude, I gotta get used to remembering the day of the week again. This studio shit is intense." Well, that explains how he ended up here tonight. Eddie shakes his head as though to clear it and takes a sip of his beer. “How was she?”

Steve can't help but feel a little twinge of disappointment. It was never going to be deliberate that Eddie turned up tonight. And it shouldn't be a surprise that even without her being here, they're talking about Robin. Robin is a safe subject. God, he wishes he knew how to break this stalemate they've ended up in. But all he can do is play along with the charade.

“She introduced Mary to one of her classmates today,” he reveals.

“You mean…introduced,” Eddie repeats the word with a knowing emphasis, looking around to make sure no one is listening in on them, “as in, ‘hi, this is the girl I’m fucking?’”

Steve grimaces. “Well, sort of. But, you know, nicer.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie considers this information for a moment. Suddenly his whole demeanor changes. The tiredness and awkwardness falls away. He flutters his eyelashes at Steve, putting on a high-pitched voice as he teases, “our girl's all grown up.” 

Something twists in Steve's chest and he has to clench his jaw to stop himself from grinning too widely back. It's not flirting. It's not even a real conversation. For God's sake why does Eddie still have to affect him so much? Why did he have to go and ruin everything?

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” he manages to scoff almost normally, although it's hard. They lapse into silence again. He wants nothing more than to be able to tease back and forth like they used to, but he destroyed all that. He hasn't even been able to apologise. Every time he gets even close to letting out a ‘sorry’, Eddie's already gone. Talking to Robin or just leaving the room. This is the longest they've spent just the two of them since they moved to LA.

Maybe this is his chance. He leans on the bar, which brings him closer to Eddie than he's been since they came back. So close that he can smell leather, and cigarettes, and that soft cologne he wears masking fresh sweat. The pain of everything he’s lost constricts his lungs so he can't even breathe it in too deeply. Steve opens his mouth, the start of an apology on the tip of his tongue, then the back door slams and Brett’s heavy footsteps announce he's finally coming back to work. Steve leaps backwards, grabbing a rag from under the bar to wipe at some invisible marks. Anything to look busy. He doesn't look at Eddie.

“Alright?” Brett drawls as he walks past. It's not a question, not really, he's just testing the waters to see if Steve's going to call him out on his lack of work. Lucky for him, Steve can't be bothered, especially when he's wishing he’d taken just ten minutes more out back.

Eddie downs the rest of his beer and slides off the stool.

“Guess I should go home and try and get some sleep,” he announces, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“Don't bother,” Steve says quickly. “It's on me.”

Eddie frowns, and Steve thinks for a moment he might refuse, but then he shrugs and with a tired, “ok, thanks man,” turns to the door.

“See you?” Steve calls, unable to stop it coming out as a hopeful question.

“Sure thing,” Eddie answers noncommittally. He waves briefly over his shoulder and then he's gone.

Steve really fucking wishes he smoked, and not just to get petty revenge on Brett. Now would be a great time to be able to hide out in the back alley, regretting every single one of his life choices.

It's Sunday by the time Mary drives her home. Way past noon and her head throbbing with the worst hangover she's ever had. Her mother insists on a call on Sunday evenings, so she really hopes she feels more human again by then. Because right now she can barely even keep focus on what's going on around her. The road keeps on drifting in and out of her vision.

“Come on sleepyhead.”

She starts at the sound of Mary's voice. Shit, when did they arrive? And how did Mary manage to park the car, get out and open her door without her realising? Mary leans into the car.

“Maybe a kiss will wake up this sleeping beauty?”

“Don't!” Robin protests half-heartedly. “I stink, and I think my breath might be categorised as a chemical weapon right now.”

“Don't care,” Mary murmurs, kissing her anyway, although it's only a quick press of their lips together. It must work, because Robin manages to pull herself out of the car and follow Mary towards her building.

“Finally decided to surface, huh?” Steve calls from the couch as they enter. He's eating cereal in front of some sitcom. The fake laugh track combined with the clink of the spoon against the bowl goes right through her head.

“Quiet, please,” she groans. Steve snorts.

“Lucky for you I just got up. There's coffee in the kitchen.”

“And that's why you're my best friend,” Robin sighs gratefully. Mary laughs and shoves her towards the kitchen.

Steaming cups in hand, they sit squashed together on the old saggy armchair. Mary's arm around her waist while Robin rests her aching head on Mary’s shoulder.

They sit in blessed silence, apart from the moment Steve drops his empty bowl on the coffee table, which makes Robin wince. Watching the dumb show while the caffeine does its best to reboot Robin’s abused brain.

A knock at the door brings them all out of their stupor. Robin's much too comfortable to move. Thankfully Steve gets up without a word and heads over to the door.

Eddie blinks at him on the other side, gnawing at his lip in uncertainty. 

“Hey,” Steve says quietly, standing far off to one side so Eddie can come in without even the slightest chance of touching him.

“Um, hi,” Eddie replies, and Robin curses inside. She's much too tired and hungover to deal with this awkwardness. But the silence stretches and she realises she's going to have to do something.

“What's up dorkus?” Shit, even the sound of her own voice makes her wince. It wasn't even a yell. Eddie turns to her and away from Steve.

“I need a few hours without looking at the guys or thinking about music,” he says. “Can I hang here for a bit? I, um, didn't know where else to go.”

“Of course,” Robin says. If he didn't look so sad and ashamed behind Eddie's shoulder, she'd be putting serious thought into slapping Steve for making Eddie question whether or not he’d be welcome here. “There's coffee in the pot if you want some.”

“God, no,” Eddie groans, a lot more like himself, she's pleased to notice, “I think I’ve got pure caffeine in my veins at this point.” He flops down onto the couch in a tired sprawl, taking up more than half the space. He waves a hand over towards the two of them.

“So I’m guessing ‘meet the family' went well?”

“Very,” Mary says smugly, tightening her arm around Robin's waist.

“I’d better be getting full credit for introducing you, you know?” he teases.

“You aren't getting credit for shit,” Mary retorts. “All you did was say hi then fuck off.”

Eddie chuckles quietly to himself.

“When I’m finally fucking free of the studio I’ll make it to one of your gigs again, I swear.” Eddie sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Robin suddenly realises that Steve hasn't sat down. He's hovering next to the couch, staring at the smallish space next to Eddie like the couch might bite him if he dares to sit.

"Do you want anything to eat?" he asks Eddie, out of nowhere.

"Ah, no, that's ok." Eddie glances up quickly, then back down again. He scoots over to free up some more space on the couch. 

“Sorry man,” he says, staring resolutely at the coffee table rather than at Steve.

Mary's head moves as she looks from one of them to the other, eyes narrowed in confusion. Shit, she hasn't actually seen these two together since they moved down. All Mary knows is that the three of them are friends and knew each other from school. Robin hasn't worked out yet how to spin the story of how they actually bonded. Although Mary knows about the Hawkins ‘earthquake’, she's so far accepted Robin's excuse that she doesn't want to talk about it. Besides, a lot of it isn't her story to tell and she's pretty sure neither Eddie nor Jeff have told anyone in LA that he was wanted for multiple murders at one point. 

She sighs. There's just so much to unpack. Although the fact that Eddie and Steve once slept together and now can’t share the same space without everything becoming wildly awkward seems to be coming out into the open right now.

To Robin's surprise Mary doesn't say anything, although she shoots them assessing glances every now and then while they carry on a stilted conversation about the idiots on screen and the farce slowly building through the episode. She holds it all in until Eddie's gone and they're alone in Robin's room.

“Oh my God, Steve's the guy!” she hisses, the second the door closes. Clearly aware that they’re only separated from him by a couple of walls and the noise of the shower. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“What do you mean, ‘the guy’?” Robin asks. She's not sure whether she feels more guilty than she hadn't told Mary any of this, or that she's betraying their confidence by talking about it now.

Mary puts her hands on her hips.

“After you guys left Eddie spent ages stomping around like a sulky kid and no one knew why,” she explains. “I finally cornered Jeff and asked him and he said it was all over some guy who led him on then vanished. It was Steve all this time?!”

Robin gnaws on her lip.

“Don't hold out on me, baby,” Mary chides, although softly, like she's understanding of her crisis of loyalty. “I know when two people are avoiding each other. They're not even any good at it. You could cut the tension with a knife.”

She makes herself comfortable on Robin's bed and pats the space beside her. Robin sits and groans in resignation.

“Yeah, ok, it was,” she admits, ‘but you can't tell anyone else.”

Mary solemnly draws a cross over her heart with her finger.

“So what happened?”

“The short version is that Steve is an idiot who got too stuck in his head about everything and Eddie cut him off before he could apologise, and now they're stuck in some kind of weird limbo where they're pretending they're both fine with being friends.”

“Jesus Christ, that sounds exhausting.”

“It is!” Robin agrees, more than a little relieved to be finally talking to someone about this. “I can't decide which of them I want to slap more.”

“It's just so weird, I’ve never seen Eddie like that before.”

“Well he actually likes Steve, a lot,” Robin explains. Mary gives a ‘no shit’ snort. “And, well, I guess he just thought it was never going to happen, and then…”

“Then it did, then it all went to shit.”

Robin nods, that about sums it up.

“Maybe they just need to get really drunk together or something,” Mary muses after a pause.

“Doesn't that usually lead to bad decisions?”

“Not in the right circumstances, it lowers your inhibitions, lets you be more honest. Maybe we just need to lock them in a room together while they're hammered.”

Robin shuffles sideways and bumps Mary's arm.

“Careful,” she teases, “you're starting to make me think you actually like Eddie.”

Mary laughs, then leans close to Robin's ear and whispers, “don't tell him, it’ll ruin everything.”

Robin's watch beeps and her heart sinks. Time to call her mom and lie through her teeth, again. She hates it.

“It's time to call my mom.” She leans across and kisses Mary. “I won't be long.”

“Hurry back!” Mary calls after Robin. “I miss you already!”

Chapter Text

The ringing tone grates against her ears. Robin leans up against the wall in the kitchen hoping this call to her parents will at least be quick, so she can get back to Mary and her real life. So she doesn't have to endure the guilt of hiding almost everything about her new life from her parents for too long. The irony of her mom insisting on these weekly calls, ‘since you're so far away’, when she hasn't got a clue that Robin's lying through her teeth about eighty percent of the time. Or else avoiding talking so she doesn't have to lie.

Sure enough when her mom answers, the conversation is almost all one sided. 

“Are you ok, sweetie?” her mom asks eventually. Shit, she must have been even quieter than usual.

“Sure, fine,” she tries to sound as perky as possible. “Just a little tired.”

Better not mention the hangover. On its own it's such a small lie, but it teeters and wobbles on the top of the mountain of others that have built up over the last few years.

Her mom accepts it anyway.

“Oh I spoke to my sister this week,” she launches back into her own news, “your cousin Sally is applying to Purdue next year, which will be lovely because she's going to be close.” Her mom pauses. “Not that we aren't so proud of you for getting into UCLA, of course.”

“Of course,” Robin agrees. Her going out of state might not be her parents favourite thing, but they've been good enough not to be too open in their disappointment.

“Well, I just wondered if you could talk to her about it. She's not sure if she wants dorms or to stay at home, I thought it might help her to hear from you. It might be nice. You used to get along so well when you were little.”

Inside, something lurches. She's not sure why this is the tipping point. Whether it's the mention of perfect little Sally staying in state, and no doubt planning on staying with her perfect high school boyfriend, or if the lies have just become too much. Suddenly they can't keep their balance any more. A pebble rolls down the mountain.

“Mom,” she cuts her off in the middle of a list of all the things Robin should be sure to tell Sally. “I've been meaning to talk to you about something. I’m not actually in dorms.”

Her mom lets out an awful shocked squeak which makes her wince.

“What?!” she screeches. Robin leans her head against the wall, incredibly glad they aren't doing this face to face. “What do you mean you're not in dorms?”

“Exactly that, mom,” she replies as calmly as possible. “I didn't want to share a room with a stranger so I decided to get an apartment instead. I used the money I had saved for a deposit and I have a job at the campus bookstore to pay the rent.”

Once again, her mouth really needs to learn when to stop. Her college living expenses were always going to be on her, that's not news. It's why she started working and saving in the first place. But now the first pebble has fallen, every other rock behind it seems to be feeling the pull of gravity as well.

“You're all on your own!” Her mom's voice has gone from shocked and outraged to shaky and panicked and Robin twists and untwists the phone cord, knotting and unknotting it obsessively between her fingers.

“No, not exactly,” she admits. “That's the other reason I didn't want to go to dorms. You see, Steve needed someone to move in with and…”

“Steve Harrington?” The horrified screech is back. “You're living with a boy! Oh my god!” Suddenly her voice goes muffled as she calls out into the house for Robin's dad. “Richard!”

“Mom, it's ok,” she tries.

“No it's not,” comes the banshee wail down the line. “I knew it. He's your boyfriend, oh sweetie, what were you thinking? You're much too young to…”

Robin squeezes the phone cord in her clenched fist, forcing the next words out through gritted teeth.

“He's not my boyfriend, mom. For the four millionth time we are just friends.”

“But you're living together! And you lied to us!” There's a distinct gulping sob on the other end of the line before her mom calls out again for her dad. “How did you even find an apartment? You don't know LA, what if it's in a rough area. What if…”

“The area is fine mom, Eddie helped us find it. He lives in the city too.”

There's shuffling and muttering on the other end of the line, then her dad's voice takes over the conversation.

“So I suppose you're going to tell us this Eddie is your boyfriend instead?”

“No!” she shouts, irritation prying loose another avalanche inside. “Jesus Christ, they are both my friends. Do you hear me? Friends. Nothing more. I don't have a boyfriend. I don't want a boyfriend. I seriously cannot tell you just how little interest I have in getting a boyfriend. In fact, I will never have a boyfriend.”

Her mouth goes dry when her brain catches up with the final sentence. There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then her mom speaks again. Even more shaken than before.

“Don't say that sweetie, you’re just a late bloomer. You’ll meet someone one day and…”

While she's not certain what mental process has led her mom from accusing her of being in a secret relationship with either Steve or Eddie to suddenly being a late bloomer, she's pretty sure it rhymes with fe-nial. Tears squeeze from her eyes, but she can't bring herself to try and pile those lies back up again now they've fallen. 

“I won't mom, dad, it isn't that I’m a late bloomer. I just,” Robin sighs, “I just don't like boys.”

Her mother goes silent again, although she can still hear her uneven breathing. Instead it's her dad who responds flatly and firmly, 

“You don't know what you're saying.”

“I do, dad, I know…”

“That's enough,” he interrupts. “We'll talk again later, when you're less…confused.”

“But…”

“Later, Robin.”

The line cuts out, leaving only a dial tone in Robin's ear. She's shaking all over, but especially the hand which is gripping the phone cable.

“Dad?” she doesn't know why she says it, he’s hung up. She sniffs loudly and replaces the phone on its cradle with trembling hands.

“Did you just…?” Robin whirls around at the sound of Mary's voice. Her girlfriend is standing in the middle of the living room, staring at her like she's just done something incredible. Like she's some kind of superhero. She doesn't feel like one though. Her eyes burn and she wipes her sleeve across her face.

“I think I just told my parents that I'm gay,” she says haltingly. “I did, didn't I?”

In answer Mary runs over and throws her arms around Robin's neck. The momentum pushes her back into the wall again. She clings tightly to Mary, but it can't stop the tremors running up and down her body. Or the tears falling.

“How did they take it?” Her head jerks around to find a wet-haired Steve leaning on his bedroom doorframe, deep concern all over his face.

“They, um, said that I don't know what I’m saying and that they'll talk to me again when I’m less confused.” Mary draws in a shocked breath. “Then they hung up.”

Mary leans back and wipes at the tears on Robin’s cheeks.

“It'll be ok,” she says, then leans in and kisses her forehead.

Robin wishes she could believe it.

“I’ve never heard his voice that cold before,” she chokes.

“Mary's right.” Steve emerges properly from his room and leans up against the kitchen counter. “It'll be ok. And even if they take a while to come around, you still have us.”

Mary nods agreement, rubbing Robin’s arm soothingly.

“Have you got anything to drink here?” Mary asks him, while she leads Robin away from the phone and towards the couch. “I think we're going to need something stronger than beer.”

To her surprise, Steve pulls out a bottle of whiskey from a top cupboard. Not much is gone, but still, she had no idea he’d started drinking that. Steve pours three measures into a motley array of glasses he’s liberated from work and hands one to each of them. Robin sniffs it uncertainly. The astringent scent reminds her more of paint thinner than anything actually potable. She takes a tiny sip, and almost spits it straight back out again. Oh god, it's like someone mixed caramel, smoke, earwax, and fire.

“Jesus, that's awful,” she studies the amber brown liquid as though it might leap out and bite her.

Mary laughs softly, then takes a sip herself, looking much more sophisticated than Robin.

“You like this?” Robin asks her.

Mary shrugs. “It grows on you.” She kisses the side of Robin's head. “I’m so proud of you.”

“How does it feel?” Steve asks. He's perched on the arm of the chair, looking queasy, but it's nothing to do with the whiskey. In another world, he’d be in her shoes. Provided that world contained an Eddie-shaped reason of course. She wishes she could sugarcoat it for him.

“At the moment it feels like there's no ground underneath me, and not in a good way.”

He stares at her like she's just told him he's got a terminal illness.

Mary snorts derisively into her glass. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that while you still haven't apologised to Eddie,” she says.

Steve's mouth opens, he gapes at Mary like she's slapped him before rounding on Robin.

“You told her?”

Robin shakes her head.

“Did Eddie tell you?”

“No one told me,” Mary insists. "Eddie's a stubborn idiot and my girl is loyal to a fault. But it wasn't exactly hard to figure out.”

Even as stunned and adrift as she is, a little thrill jumps down her spine at Mary’s, ‘my girl’. Steve, however, is not thrilled. About any of it. He rolls his glass nervously between his fingers.

“Look, it's not…,” he stammers, “I didn't do it on purpose. I wish I could go back in time and do things differently. I wish he'd let me apologise.”

“What would you do differently?” Robin asks, seizing her chance now that he's actually talking about it, instead of blowing her off. “If you could go back in time.” 

“I would have called,” Steve answers sadly. “I’d have called him every fucking day.”

He downs the rest of the whiskey in one.

“This isn't the time for my bullshit,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

Robin sighs. Wishes they could keep going on that tangent, because she really doesn't want to think too long about what she's just done, and what might happen next. Is this it? Will they cut her off, or try and force her to come home? She can't decide which would be worse.

At least she won't have to talk precious Sally through the dorm application process.

“I have no idea.” She lifts the glass in her hand to her lips again, but just the smell revolts her and she lets it drop again. “I guess it's done now. I can't take it back. I'll just have to wait and see what they do.” A hopeful thought strikes her. “Maybe they'll just pretend I never said anything?”

“Is that what you really want?” Mary asks. Robin pauses, considering.

“No, it isn't.”

They never call her. She's supposed to call them at their set time on Sunday and whenever she has news. But the way they left things feels like she should wait for them to reach out and that makes the silence of the phone weigh her down the next morning. 

Mary does her best to reassure her on the drive across town. Still, with no way of knowing how they're taking the news, that uncomfortable, untethered feeling persists. Nothing feels real. She drifts through the day; eventually ending up, as she does every Monday afternoon, in the library. Getting her reading for the week organised and doing as much work as she can where it's quiet. Today, she's having the hardest time focusing. Every now and then she finds herself staring at the wall. Right now she's tried to read the same paragraph four or five times and still doesn't know what it says.

“Hey Robin?”

The nervous words break make her jump. Her pen falls out of her mouth, clatters against the table and then rolls onto the floor. Jackie hovers, clutching a book to her chest. Robin's cheeks flame and she dives down after it. 

“Um, hi.” She manages once she's retrieved her pen and pulled herself upright again.

“Is it ok if I sit here?” Jackie points at a chair on the opposite side of the table.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

Jackie sits and begins to set up her own pile of books and work. Sneaking curious glances out of the corner of her eye, Robin pretends to read the same sentence she's just failed to take in. The end of her pen sneaks back into her mouth.

“Robin?” Jackie whispers. 

She extracts the pen and tries to pretend she wasn't already looking across the table at her.

“Yeah?”

Jackie looks from side to side then leans over her books, getting as close to Robin as she can.

“It's ok,” she hisses. “What happened on Friday, I mean. It's fine by me. And I won't tell anyone else.”

The words take a moment to form meaning in her mind. Robin stares at her, pen hanging out of her mouth. Jackie flashes a quick half-smile, and sits back in her seat and resumes her work.

“Oh,” Robin says once she's worked through the shock, and a glimmer of something not unlike happiness lights up inside. “Um, thanks. Thanks for letting me know.”

Eddie's more exhausted than he knew it was possible to be. The studio had been energising at first, exciting, until the hours upon hours of rehearsals and picking apart every chord before laying down a few minutes of tape followed by the harshest critiquing sessions he's ever been through began to mount up. When he's finally at home, and he's never been more grateful for the fact that he chose not to share an apartment with Jeff and Chris, all he wants to do is sleep. Only he can't. There's too much adrenaline in his system. Too many thoughts and plans running through his mind.

So although he makes a big deal of graciously accepting the call, he’s secretly grateful for Dustin Henderson providing a distraction. Getting his DnD brain back into gear to help the newby dungeon master might just shut down his musician brain long enough to get some rest.

“Look, kid,” he says after Dustin outlines the so-called disaster that has him doubting his choices as Hellfire’s new Dungeon Master, “you can't be afraid of a character dying. You're just the DM, they're the ones making the decisions. If they roll in against a big bad without enough hit points to spare, that's on them. So a character died, it's not the end of the world. You just gotta make the death worth it. Narrate the scene, run with it, then make damn sure the other characters don't forget it. Make sure they're haunted by that ghost. Then you've done your job.”

“But Will’s got these weird blinkers,” Dustin argues. “If Mike’s in trouble he just can't help throwing himself in front of him. Now he's all pissy about it. Maybe I should have…”

“And that's your problem, why?” he interrupts. “How long has he been playing? Is this seriously his first character death?”

“No.”

He's getting into it now. Memories of the darkened drama room of Hawkins High flooding back to him while he's sprawled on his lumpy couch, shoving the occasional handful of chips in his mouth. It's not real food, but he hasn't been able to go grocery shopping in a while so it's the best he has.

“Look, even if you're facing a total player kill you don't fudge a roll, or change things to make it easy on them. They're the ones who have to back off when they're onto a loser. If not, then they live or die by the roll of the dice. It's not your fault.”

Dustin sighs on the other end, but it sounds like an agreeing sign rather than a disagreeing one.

“Did this ever happen to you?” he asks.

“Plenty of times! You should have seen Gareth the first time one of his characters died.” He pauses. Although he doesn't blame him for taking off after getting the Jason Carver experience, mentioning Corroded Coffin’s old drummer and his former friend almost derails him with a little flash of, 'he should be here'. “Don't worry about it, Byers'll come around. Just catch up with him before next week about what he wants for his next character. Work with him about how the new guy will fit into the story. It’ll be fine.”

He's expecting thanks. Just a tiny token of gratitude that Eddie has taken the time out of his insane schedule to hear his woes and help. Instead Dustin hems and haws on the other end of the line in the way he only does when he's going to change the subject to something he thinks might be awkward. Eddie holds in a sigh.

“So, ah, how's it going with Steve and Robin down there?”

He freezes, a handful of chips halfway to his mouth. Spidey senses tingling. It can't be good that he's hesitant to bring up Steve and Robin.

“Fine, why?”

“Just wondered if they were totally ignoring you or something. You don't talk about them.”

Shit. Doesn't he? He's pretty sure he's talked about them to seem normal. Has he avoided the whole thing even more than he thought? He drops the uneaten chips back in the bag and sits up, wiping his hand on his shorts. Damage control time.

“Kid, this is the longest I’ve not been in the studio in like a month. If anything I’m ignoring them.”

“Right,” Dustin draws out the word long beyond the point of regular sarcasm. “I bet they're so stuck in the honeymoon phase they haven't even noticed.”

Eddie chokes in shock. Honeymoon phase? What in the Mills and Boon?

“The what?”

“Please, like you haven't noticed. They've been dancing around each other for years. Now they're living together and…”

“Henderson, I’m saying this with all the love in the world, but you need to shut your mouth.”

Dustin splutters on the other end of the phone. Eddie wants to get up and pace, but he knows he's too distracted to not get tangled in the phone cord, so his leg bounces instead.

“No matter what your mom and her soap operas told you, it is possible for a guy and a girl to be friends without being involved,” he gets more and more agitated the longer he thinks about the ridiculous idea. “They aren't together. Not even almost. They are not interested in each other that way. Trust me, I know this for a fact.”

“Please,” he scoffs, "you didn't see how Steve was acting before he moved down there. He was being totally weird about everything. Kept spacing out all the time.” Eddie's hand tightens on the phone, sweaty palms slip on the hard plastic. Then his heart stops as Dustin drops the bomb, “and I know you know why.”

“What?” Somehow he manages to choke the word out. “How?”

“He as good as told me! ‘Did Eddie say something?’ he asked. So don't bullshit me. I’m not an idiot.”

Eddie stares helplessly at the wall. He's not an idiot, and some day the kid is going to put all this together, maybe before any of them are ready for it. He should keep his trap shut and not give out any more clues for him to work with. But while his imitation of Steve is abysmal, it's still enough for the anger Eddie feels almost constantly whenever he looks at the man to flare and override his common sense. 

“Look, maybe I know something, maybe I don't,” he says bitterly. “But I know it's nothing to do with Robin. Drop it, Henderson, seriously.”

“Why does no one else want him to be happy?!”

Eddie surges to his feet. Why will people not stop talking to him about Steve and how fucking sad he is? It's all his own goddamn fault. 

“His happiness is his business,” he snaps, giving up and pacing. The phone cable immediately tangles around his arm. “This isn't some cheesy movie where everything works out in the end. Sometimes life just sucks, and sometimes good people do shitty things that make them unhappy. So butt out.”

Regret hits him about half way through the rant, the second he heard Dustin's sharp intake of breath, but the words kept on going. Shit. Way to go, Eddie.

They hadn't intended to take over the bar, but they were riding the high of actually finishing the album in their allotted studio time, and word spread quickly.

After two weeks he still hasn't had a, ‘hang on a minute’, phone call from Dustin Henderson, so he might be in the clear on that front. Of course, he still doesn't have an answerphone, so there's an outside chance the kid has worked it out and hasn't been able to get hold of him. Regardless, he’ll take it as something else to celebrate.

“I can't believe it's actually done,” Jeff says for what feels like the hundredth time. Eddie grins at his old friend. He can't be annoyed by it, not when he's just as disbelieving that this is actually finally happening. 

“Believe it, asshole!” Marty jumps in, slapping Jeff's shoulders. “We have just finished making a fucking record! Tonight, we party!”

Across from them, Chris cups his hands around his mouth and screams out the loudest holler Eddie's ever heard from him. And the backing screams are his job. The crowd around them hoots and hollers back at him.

“Fucking hell,” Eddie punches his shoulder, “you couldn't have done that on fucking Knife Edge?” That fucking track. He almost can't bear to hear the name of it, let alone say it. It took way too long to get right.

Chris performs an over the top shudder. “Dude I killed my fucking throat on that track.”

“Did I hear right?” Eddie whips around at the sound of Mary's voice. “Corroded Coffin have actually recorded their debut album?” Her mouth twists into a teasing smile. “Who wants to listen to that shit?”

Robin dives on him before he can retort, throwing her arms around his neck from behind.

“Alright, alright!” he pats her arm. Once he’s turned enough to see her face he raises his eyebrows in a silent question. She shakes her head. Shit, no news from her folks yet. He gives her a quick hug and whispers, “it’ll be ok,” hoping with everything he has that it will.

Over her shoulder, behind Mary, Steve's hovering. He looks wildly uncomfortable and out of place. Eddie holds in a sigh. Maybe in some freaky alternative universe there's a place where he sits the guy next to him, holds his hand and introduces him to everyone. Where they meet the Steve he thought he knew. Where he goes home with that Steve after the party. Where they end up in the same bed. Where it didn't all go to shit before it had a chance to really begin.

He's never missed someone so intensely who's so physically close to him before. But he does. He fucking misses him. Misses the Steve he thought he knew. The Steve who wouldn't hesitate to put himself in harm's way for his friends. Who left popularity and an easy life behind in favour of building something real. Who laughs at corny dad jokes and always has something encouraging to say, even when he has no idea what the problem actually is. Who listens with bemused patience to all the nerdy details of DnD or a sci-fi movie he’s never seen. The Steve who was so fucking endearingly eager that night once he finally admitted what he wanted.

He doesn't realise he's staring until Steve ducks his head guiltily and turns away.

“We’re gonna go grab a drink,” Mary says when Robin's back at her side again. “But I want to hear all the details!”

Is he imagining it, or is there a knowing glint in her eye when she glances between him and Steve? Has Robin said something? Has Steve?

“Sure!” he agrees easily, not wanting to give anything away until he knows for sure. He watches as Mary pulls both Robin and Steve over to the bar. When did she become such good friends with him? They must have been hanging out a lot while Corroded Coffin was stuck in the studio. Maybe she really does know.

When he turns back, he finds Chris and Marty have drifted away to the other side of the bar. Jeff leans across and smacks Eddie's arm.

“Holy shit,” he smirks, “I never thought I’d see the day Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, would look like a lost little kid. I guess it's true what they say about guys who peak in high school.”

“Don't say that about him,” Eddie mumbles, and downs another shot of whiskey from the collection of glasses around them. Jeff scrunches up his face in incredulity.

“Please, Eddie, after everything he put you through you should be happy to see him miserable.”

“Well I’m not, ok? Would you drop it?” The empty shot glass lands back on the table with more force than he’d intended.

“Whatever, dude.”

The drink keeps flowing along with the congratulations, and the occasional jealous jibe from some of the guys who had considered themselves Corroded Coffin's competition. All of it rolls off him in the face of actually having achieved something for once in his life. They made a fucking record. He made a fucking record. A parentless trailer kid from the ass end of nowhere. The drop-out who couldn't even graduate high school. The freak who everyone believed went from stealing cars to drug dealing to murder with no steps in between. 

He’s reeling from the latest shot, a tiny tickle of worry in the back of his mind that it might have been the tipping point into too many, when Robin forces a glass of water into his hand and makes him take a sip. When it hits, he's suddenly thirstier than he’s ever been in his life. He downs the rest without stopping to breathe. He's about to thank her when his attention gets pulled away.

On the other side of the room, Steve's leaning against the bar, next to Vivi and Mary who are carrying on some kind of intense, semi-drunken debate. A pretty brown-haired woman approaches on his other side and says something to him, toying with one of her curls as she does so.

A hot knife of jealousy slides between Eddie's ribs.

It cools a little when Steve doesn't seem to notice her, and she has to repeat herself. Even more when he says something short with a shake of his head and she turns and flounces away. Mary leans around Vivi and shoves another shot into his hand. She motions for him to drink and obediently he does.

Shit, that was a close fucking call. The relief almost brings him to his knees even though he knows has no goddamn right to feel that way. And it's going to happen eventually isn't it? Steve isn't going to stay guilty and pining forever. This is King fucking Steve. There’ll be plenty of people out there willing to help him when he does decide to move on. Or at least try and fuck Eddie out of his system once and for all.

“He isn't, you know.” Robin says. Eddie wheels around to face her, so drunk he can't keep his movements small anymore. Did he say that last bit out loud without meaning to? He blinks a couple of times until just one of her comes into focus.

“Isn't what?” he enunciates the words carefully.

“Doing what he used to do. Sleeping around. Flirting with women at the bar. None of that. I swear.”

“You're not with him all the time,” he slurs, “how many nights have you spent over with Mary?”

“Look believe me or don’t, that's up to you, I’m telling you he isn't doing that. He's spending all his free time wishing he hadn't screwed things up with you.”

Robin takes the empty water glass from his lax hand and marches off, leaving him alone to contemplate the hollow feeling in the middle of his chest.

He's not quite sure how he ended up being the last member of the band still standing. The occasional glass of water from Robin probably helped. He thinks he saw Chris leaving with a blonde woman an hour or two ago, but he's got no idea what's happened to Marty or Jeff. Hopefully they’ve found their own way to celebrate, whether that's with someone or not, and they aren't face down in a gutter somewhere.

He leans heavily against Seth as the guy half-carries him out of the bar. Hand jammed into his armpit. When the night air hits him, it brings with it a sense of being outside his body. City lights spin. He stumbles sideways, squashing against Seth’s side and his sharp ribs.

“Dude, you're tall,” he observes.

“Nice catch, captain obvious. You ever thought of fighting crime?”

There are other people moving behind them, but he can't focus his attention long enough to count them. Robin's there. And Mary. He can hear their voices. But he's not sure who else. He's definitely not wondering whether Steve's still with them, or if he finally gave in to one of the many women who kept on giving him the eye all goddamn night.

“How come we never hooked up?” he asks Seth. Jesus fucking Christ, is this how pathetic he is now?

The guy snorts under his breath.

“I don't swing that way, and besides, I heard you like ‘em pretty. I don't qualify.” 

Pretty. Jesus Christ, why can't he shake that? Pretty boy Harrington. All his goddamn life. ‘Don't worry, it's just pretty boy Harrington’. ‘Did you hear? Pretty boy Harrington had to go work at the mall.’ Pretty boy. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

Seth sighs irritably. “Did he really need to be this drunk?” he calls over his shoulder. Eddie blinks, trying to make sense of the comment.

“I was not in control of how drunk he got,” comes Robin's voice from behind them. The words are stilted for some reason. She makes a grunt that sounds like she's carrying something heavy. “That was all on him.”

He tries to work out why on earth Seth thinks Robin was getting him drunk. But his brain gives up half way through trying to decipher a tangled web of possibilities.

The control, or otherwise, over the volume of alcohol swimming in his veins might be up for debate, but he isn't in control of where they're going now. His feet follow meekly wherever Seth is taking him. It's more brain power than he’s capable of to keep the world in focus, not fall flat on his ass, and keep track of where they're going so he just trusts the people around him to get him home.

It shocks him then, when they lurch to a stop outside of Steve and Robin’s front door and not his own.

“What’re we doing here?” 

“It was closer,” Robin says, leaning past him to open the door. He thinks about the bar, and the roads, unable to figure out whether that's true or not. “You can sleep it off on the couch or something, go home tomorrow. Well, later today.”

Seth steps into the apartment and he's forced to follow.

“Yeah,” the guy says as if in answer, although Eddie hasn't managed to actually make any protesting words yet. “And I’m not carrying your heavy ass any further.”

The world rushes past him as Seth deposits him on Robin and Steve's couch. Then he watches on in surprise as an also drunk Steve, supported by Robin and Mary, gets dumped on the couch next to him. Nerves begin to ping through the blanket of drunkenness swaddling him.

“Thanks,” Mary says to Seth. He gives a mock salute in return. 

“Good luck,” he says. Then ducks his head to fit himself and his huge mohawk through the door and out into the night. 

Mary closes the door behind him. He must lose a minute or so to the spinning and confusion because next thing he knows Robin is holding out two glasses of water. Steve takes his without question.

“What's going on?” Eddie asks, eyeing her and the glass with suspicion.

“You're drunk,” Robin says bluntly. “You can sleep it off here.”

He takes the glass of water from her. Mary opens the door, and Robin steps away.

“Wait!” Steve exclaims. “Are you leaving?”

“Yup,” she says. “Going to stay at Mary's. You two can handle your own hangovers for a bit. When they kick in, anyway.”

Panic freezes some more of the drunken whirling in Eddie's mind. They're leaving him alone with Steve? Now?

“But…,” Steve obviously can't think of how to object to this, and neither can he.

“You’ll be fine together here, right?” she adds. “After all, you two are friends, aren't you?”

Eddie's mouth opens and closes like a fish, but he can't think of any sensible retort. After all, how many times has he shut her down by saying exactly that? And he knows he's much too drunk to go wandering around the city. He’d probably walk in a big circle and end up back here anyway. Like the way he doesn't seem to be able to stop torturing himself by turning up in places he knows Steve's going to be.

Something soft and warm touches his arm. The room slides at an odd angle, and he realises he's leaned into Steve's side without meaning to. He drags his body back upright again, trying desperately to ignore any lingering tingles.

Mary and Robin don't wait for them to find their voices. The door closes behind them and then it's just silence and him and Steve and a world that's still wobbling around him.

Eddie takes a drink of water, mainly to delay having to actually say or do anything else. Maybe it'll make him sober up just enough to not say or do anything stupid.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He can't do it. He's got to get out of here or he is going to do something stupid. He manages to get the glass of water onto the table. It wobbles, the drag of glass against wood loud in the too quiet room, but only a bit spills. He manages to get to his feet, but when he tries to walk off, they get tangled, and he goes sprawling down on the floor.

“Shit, Eddie, are you all right?” Steve leaps up, swaying where he stands.

“I'm fine,” he spits. Rolling to his knees. The world lurches around him. “Just gotta go. Don't know what they were thinking, leaving me here,” he grumbles.

“Eddie, it's ok. You don't…you don't have to go…”

Eddie scrambles across the floor. Trying to get his feet under him. All he achieves is crawling slightly further away from Steve.

“Please, just stay.”

Eddie shakes his head, but he has to stop because his eyes can't keep up and it gives him motion sickness.

“At least let me help you up.”

It's a very unsteady Steve standing in front of him, holding his hand out. Unsure that he'll even be able to help, Eddie grabs it. Ignoring the flash of warmth in his palm as he does so.

Steve pulls Eddie to his feet. They both sway and stumble. Steve reaches out to steady him and his hand falls on Eddie's hip. He's much too close. Alcohol scented breath on his face. Touching and almost touching far too much for his stupid body to not take notice. 

Pain that's been constantly fizzing just under his skin for over a month, bursts to the surface.

“Don't,” he snarls, twisting out of Steve's hold. The spin continues out of control until his shoulder hits the wall, then he leans there, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers behind him. Eddie sags against the wall because of course Steve's sorry. It's been written all over him this whole time. He's sorry and guilty and fucking miserable, and Eddie's been too mad and just too fucking busy to acknowledge it.

“I know,” he hisses.

“No,” Steve says, “you don't.” His breath hitches. “You don't because you won't let me tell you. I’m sorry I didn't call…”

“Didn't call,” Eddie whirls around to face him, keeping his shoulders propped up against the wall. “You make it sound like you forgot to check in after your flight. You ignored me for two months. No calls. No letters. Not even a postcard. I don't know how many times I spoke to your answerphone. Guess it was broken, huh? For two goddamn months.” 

“I know.” 

God, Steve sounds so small and defeated. The room lurches again and Eddie lets himself slide down the wall until he's sitting on the floor. One leg out in front of him.

“Why?” he asks in a hoarse whisper, looking up at Steve.

Steve’s knees buckle and he collapses down onto the floor beside Eddie.

“Because I was stupid, and scared, and stupid a couple more times.” 

Eddie waits and waits, alcohol and tiredness making the world all fuzzy at the edges, but Steve doesn't seem to want to volunteer any more.

“I’m gonna need more than that,” he prompts.

“I know, and I’ll tell you, but please, do you think that there's any reason that might make you…anything I can say that…”

“I don't know,” Eddie sighs. He's exhausted of it all. “I just don't know.”

“That's fair. It's what I deserve.”

Steve starts rambling then. He's not sure if it's because he's drunk or if all of this has just been pent up inside so long, but his words come out in a jumble. Leaping around from here to there. Is it the crazy mix of words making him sway where he sits or is sorting the information as it hits him getting slowly harder and harder?

“Hold up, hold up,” he says eventually, when he's pretty sure Steve's rambled so far he's stumbled around in a full circle and started back at the beginning again. “Did you just say that I’m too good for you? You remember who you're talking to right? The freak. The guy who no one had any trouble believing would murder a girl in his trailer. That guy.”

“But you're not that guy are you?” Steve's somehow pleading with him about his own reputation and he can't quite work out why. “You never were. And now you're here. Here you're someone. You're in the right place. And I…I don't have a place. I don't even know who I am.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve.” Eddie's eyes flutter closed, it's nice. Too nice. He forces them open again.

“I know, I know, none of it makes anything right because I acted like a fucking shithead.”

Eddie yawns. He's not sure when it happened, but his head is resting on Steve's shoulder. Was it already there when he shut his eyes and he was just too tired to notice? Were they closed for longer than a blink?

“I gotta get some sleep,” he croaks, letting his eyes close again. It's dark behind his eyelids. Dark is good. Dark is nice.

“You can't sleep on the floor, Eddie.”

“Can to.” He doesn't open his eyes this time. “Watch me.”

Steve grunts and Eddie feels himself being pushed upright again, away from the warmth of Steve's body.

“Wha…?”

Steve's arms circle around his chest and he finds himself lifted to his feet like a ragdoll.

“Jus lemme sleep dude.” His cheek is pressed against something firm and warm. Steve's arms comfortable around his waist. Not like Seth who's too tall, too bony.

“I will.” Steve moves with him. Eddie opens his eyes a crack to see the living room whirling in earnest as Steve manoeuvres him back to the couch again. He clings to Steve's shoulders so he won't go spinning off. 

“I thought you didn't forgive me?” Steve murmurs.

“I did…I don't…I don't fucking…”

“Ok, ok,” Steve murmurs, and then they're moving again. Through the whirling, too bright room until they cross the threshold into a place that's blissfully dark. Steve lowers with him. They land somewhere soft, a little cool to the touch in a way that's extremely pleasing to his fuzzy brain. He keeps his head on Steve's shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. 

“God I hope you don't throw up in my bed,” Steve whispers. 

He wants to retort to that. Something about being able to hold his liquor, but before the words can form in his brain long enough to exit through his mouth, his consciousness drifts away.

Steve wakes up to the worst headache of his life. His temples throb. It’s so bad it takes him a moment to register that his throat is also parched, and his muscles are painfully locked in place. They creak when he rolls over, and the movement triggers a wave of nausea which makes his head even worse.

He takes a deep breath to try and calm his roiling stomach, only to be instantly suffocated by a noseful of hair. Coughing and gasping, his eyes fly open and he bats at the curly brown hair currently trying to smother him.

Eddie, the owner of the hair, groans loudly, but doesn't move. 

When he can finally breathe again without dying, he blinks at Eddie in confusion. This is his room, his bed, so why is Eddie in it? Is this some kind of bizarre alcohol induced hallucination? Although why his subconscious would subject him to a vision of death by hair inhalation he has no clue.

Tentatively, he reaches out a hand. It lands on the fabric patch covering the back of Eddie's denim vest. The one he wore once. Beneath it he can feel Eddie's chest moving.

He's really here. Steve takes him all in. He's wearing all his clothes still, including his shoes. Why are they both fully dressed and in Steve's bed ?

Despite grumbling something inaudible, Eddie doesn't move or open his eyes. Steve's hand against Eddie's back trembles ever so slightly.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he brings his head down against Eddie's shoulder. Pushing his hair away so he can just take a few minutes to enjoy being this close to him again before Eddie wakes up and storms out. He breathes deeply once more, ignoring the overlay of stale alcohol and day old sweat. Beneath that, it smells like him.

‘I’m going to stay at Mary's…You’ll be fine together here, right?’

A distant, blurry memory of Robin's voice surfaces. There was fear, lots of fear. His head was spinning. She handed him a glass of water. Eddie was sitting next to him on the couch.

God damn this god awful hangover. He needs to pee. He really, really doesn't want to move, but his bladder hurts and he desperately needs water.

Carefully, trying not to disturb Eddie, he slides down the bed. The nausea returns when he stands, the throbbing at his temples getting even stronger. He staggers to the bathroom, and when that pressing issue is taken care of, makes his slow, unsteady way back to the kitchen. Water feels amazing when he starts drinking, but once it hits his stomach it sits there malevolently. He stops half way through the glass he poured, holding onto the sink to stop him swaying too violently, contemplating just how gross it would be to bring the whole lot back up into the sink. 

Fuck, he really needs to lie down again. Let it settle. He grabs their bottle of Tylenol, refills the water glass and creeps back to his bedroom.

Eddie hasn't moved.

In a rush, the long rambling monologue he’d subjected the poor guy to returns to him. Jesus fucking Christ, no one could have made sense of the gibberish that poured out of him. Let alone use it as a basis to decide whether or not to forgive.

Did Eddie forgive him, or did he just pass out? Steve remembers carrying him to the bed, or was it the couch?

Fuck it, his brain can't handle this right now. Not when his head is pounding and it feels like he might throw up if he moves too fast.

He puts the water and Tylenol on the nightstand next to Eddie, then kicks off his shoes and crawls gratefully back onto the bed again. He hesitates, but presses a gentle kiss to Eddie's stubbled cheek. He might never get another chance. The water sloshes worryingly in his stomach, but he drifts off back to sleep.

When his eyes open again, who knows how much later, Eddie is awake and staring up at the ceiling. The glass of water Steve left on the nightstand is empty and the Tylenol bottle is open, the lid lying a little way apart from everything else. Steve's heart begins to flutter with panic. Now he's rested more, the scenes from last night are clearer in his mind. How he got more drunk than he has for a long time at Corroded Coffin's impromptu celebration. Being carried home by Mary and Robin. Them abandoning the two of them here, alone. Eddie trying his drunken best to get away from him. The way he reacted like Steve's touch physically hurt him. Pouring his heart out in a confused, messy ramble only for Eddie to fall asleep on his shoulder.

He must have made some kind of noise, or maybe it's just the way his breathing has changed, but Eddie looks over at him. 

“Was it the truth?” he asks, voice still raspy with alcohol. “What you said last night. Was it the truth, or just the booze making up excuses?”

Eddie's taken his shoes off too, he notices.

“The truth,” Steve blurts out in a hurry, “all of it. I’m so fucking sorry, I…”

Eddie winces and holds up a hand. Steve falls silent. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie croaks. “it's just I think my head is about to explode.” He rubs his eyes. “I’m going to need you to tell me, as quietly and slowly as you can, what you actually want.”

Steve takes a deep breath, forcing himself to slow down.

“Can we start again?” he asks. “I don't mean pretend this never happened because that wouldn't be fair, I still need to make it up to you, but…just take things from the beginning again.”

“Baby steps?”

Even through the pained haze of his hangover heat floods him at the memory of the last time Eddie said those words to him.

“Yeah, um, baby steps.”

Eddie rolls over onto his side to face him. He traces the line of Steve's jaw with one finger.

“Ok then.”

Steve grins so wide it makes his headache worse, but he doesn't care.

“Now please tell me you have coffee and something edible which can be fried in large amounts of grease in this place?”

Chapter Text

Two months since they finished their record and word has spread like wildfire that LA’s very own Corroded Coffin have an album coming out soon. Every one of their shows since they stepped out of the studio has been sold to capacity; even though they've transitioned from bars which happen to have a stage to slightly larger venues, the halls and ballrooms. There's apparently a huge number of people who want to be able to say they were there, at these last few local gigs before they get picked up and start touring with bigger names and playing in bigger venues. Now they've got the whiff of success on them, no one seems to care that half the band are transplants to the city, and recent ones at that. Nor that the details of the future tour and potential supporting slots are still being wrangled behind the scenes at Megaforce. This crowd, like every crowd they've played for since the first whispers of the deal started, buzzes with the sense of beginning, of possibility.

There's a good chance that representatives of some of those bigger bands are here tonight, to see Corroded Coffin live and report back. As Eddie never tires of reminding the band before every performance, this gig could be the one that lands them a support slot with a band like Exodus or Overkill. Maybe even a guest appearance with a behemoth like Maiden or Metallica. It's all to play for.

Steve threads his way through the packed-out club. Sliding through half-gaps between people and ignoring the huffs and occasional quizzical looks which follow after him. He doesn't care if they think he's in the wrong place. He knows he's exactly where he should be. And it's even more exciting this time because Eddie doesn't know he's coming. Although he insisted on putting Steve's name on the list at the door ‘just in case’, he was supposed to be working. Fortunately, he now has enough leverage on Brett to coerce the guy into swapping shifts with him. This once at least.

His destination, the bar at the back of the room, glows in the distance. It's the only place with enough lights on to see. Robin will be there, she promised, along with Mary and some of her friends. He catches sight of them as he gets closer, but they don't see him through the darkness and the mass of bodies until he's pretty much next to them.

“You made it!” Robin yells over the hum of the crowd, extricating herself from the group and giving him a hug. He's just happy to see her smiling again after her parents phone call earlier in the week. The first call to her after everything and all they had to say was, ‘maybe it's best if you stay in LA for Thanksgiving this year.’ Technically, Steve's in the same boat, although it's not really the same given his parents didn't even call. But she's gone from close to nothing in an instant, while his parents' calls and care have been dwindling away for years. He’ll never tell her, because he doesn't want to get her hopes up, but he thinks that not having her home this year might be the best thing. Facing the reality of her absence could bring them around.

Whether it does or doesn't, all they can do is be there for her as best they can. Mary seems to be doing a particularly good job at that, he's pleased to see. Her brand of attitude, a mix of 'fuck it' and 'their loss' but applied with more caring than the harsh words suggest, really working to bring Robin almost back to normal over the last couple of weeks.

“Eddie's going to lose his mind,” she whispers when he's close. His heart gives an excited little flutter. She's right, even if she has no idea just how right. 

“Here.” Mary hands him a shot. He eyes it cautiously.

“You’re not trying to get me drunk again are you?”

She snorts.

“Hell no, that was a one time deal. And it worked out pretty well for you.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He clinks glasses with her and they down their shots together. The warmth of the alcohol trickling down his chest.

“I still don't know how you can drink that stuff.” Robin performs an over the top shudder, and Mary kisses her cheek.

There's a burst of yellow-orange light from the stage and a gap opens up in front of them as the throng of people surges forward. Eddie struts out last of all the band members, of course, soaking up the roar of the crowd. Carrying his glossy black guitar as easily as if it's part of his body. When the colourful lights hit him, Steve's mouth goes dry and his mind goes blank. They sparkle through his hair, and bounce off his white vest. He definitely recognises the logo on this one, it's Corroded Coffin's very own.

The lights are so bright compared to the rest of the room that Steve resigns himself to the fact that Eddie won't be able to see them back here; even though the room isn't huge and the bar is still lit.  After a few quiet words to the other members of the band Eddie steps up to the mic. Even from the other side of the room, it's obvious he's buzzing. Excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet as he whoops out a greeting to the assembled masses. Then like magnets drawing together, Eddie's eyes find him. They widen ever so slightly, his grin gets infinitesimally wider. He winks and the crowd goes nuts, not one of them knowing that the wink was an acknowledgement to a specific person. But Steve knows. Then Marty counts them in and they launch into their opening song, the one Eddie is pushing to be their first single release.

Watching him on stage has become one of Steve's favourite things. Although it's an exaggerated version of Eddie up there, it's still him, only louder and brasher. Like a movie version of the Eddie he remembers occasionally encountering at school, who would do his best to humiliate Tommy H whenever he decided to pick on someone smaller than himself. The Eddie he pretended to hate along with the rest of the team, but secretly admired for his ability to give zero fucks what the popular kids thought about him. And there's something about seeing his swaggering stage persona break every now and then with a genuine look in his direction that's intoxicating.

When it's over, the band have retreated and the crowd are dispersing, Robin sees him off with a knowing smirk. He still doesn't feel exactly like he belongs backstage. With everyone talking what might as well be a different language about amplifiers and god knows what else. But he doesn't feel like an outsider anymore either. Not when he knows the way to pick safely through the equipment and not piss off the people rewinding cables and packing things up. 

He knows where Eddie is by the sound of raucous voices off in the distance, still riding high the elation of yet another sold out performance. When he spots them, Eddie's got his back to him, saying something to a guy wrangling cables while he and Chris are checking their guitars and settling them back into their cases. His vest sticks to his back with sweat, so wet that his skin is visible through the fabric.

Marty spots him first. He's leaning on the wall talking to Jeff, a few paces away from Eddie and Chris.

“Eddie!” he calls. “Someone here for you.”

Marty offers him the slightest nod and holds a hand up in an almost wave before he walks away, much to Steve's surprise. Looks like the guy is warming up to him at last. They've come a long way from that awful day he answered Eddie's phone anyway.

Even if the whole band hated him, which they don't seem to, not even Jeff, Eddie's reaction when he turns and sees Steve would make it all worth it.

“You made it!’ Eddie grins and bounds over, almost knocking Steve to the ground when he wraps his arms around him in a damp hug. It's not as close as he'd like, they are still in front of everyone. Not just Chris and Jeff, who don't care, but the new techs and venue crew who they don't know well enough to know if they're trustworthy. When Eddie releases him, a sheen of his sweat covers Steve's shirt. It's hardly surprising. The front of Eddie's shirt is so wet he can see his tattoos through it, although he's resolutely not staring. He isn't. And not thinking about his plans for later. Not at all.

Eddie sends him a private wink.

Steve finds an out of the way spot to stand and wait. If he tries to help he’s only going to mess everything up. At least until it gets to the point that they're loading all their gear into the two vans outside. All the more expensive and irreplaceable stuff in Eddie's van for their lockup; the rest in Chris’s, which they park at his and Jeff's building. He can handle lifting a case and putting it where he's told. Even if Eddie does his best to make him drop things by squeezing his hip or blowing air over his neck whenever no one's looking.

When they're finally alone in Eddie's van, Eddie reaches over and rests his hand on Steve's leg. 

“Ready to get out of here?”

“I’ve been ready for hours,” Steve sighs.

Eddie chuckles, and pinches his inner thigh, making him jump. A flood of heat, out of all proportion to the tiny action, rushes through him.

The drive across town passes in a blur, thanks to Eddie. They don't talk, but Eddie strokes up and down his thigh, getting closer and closer to his groin each time before backing off again, and it's driving Steve crazy. He's fully hard before they're even half way to their destination and almost frantic by the time Eddie finally pulls onto the quiet streets leading to their rented garage. Once they're safely inside, Steve turns to Eddie, only to find him half way out already. So he throws open his door, then falls out of the van. His legs are shaking too hard. Luckily, Eddie's arms close around him. He doesn't know how he managed to get there so quickly. They crash together in a desperate, bruising kiss. Eddie's momentum pushes Steve back against the dusty concrete wall. 

Steve hangs onto Eddie's shoulders, squashed between the wall and the other man's body. His erection throbs in his pants, and he can't help but use what little space he has to rub himself against Eddie. Eddie's hands slide beneath his t-shirt, the rough drag of his fingers leaving warm tingling in their wake. 

He knows Eddie's still riding the performance high. It's in the urgent way he's taking control of everything. The kiss, sliding his tongue into Steve's mouth. His touches, firm and eager. The way he's grinding his crotch into Steve's. It's all so close to making Steve abandon his plan and turning him to putty in Eddie's arms, willing to do whatever he wants. The idea of simply dropping to his knees right here and taking Eddie's dick into his mouth is almost overwhelming. He doesn't even care about the open garage door.

But there's one thing he really, really wants. One thing they haven't done yet, because Eddie insisted he should wait until he was certain he was ready. He's more than certain, and he planned to tell Eddie tonight. Just the thought of it is enough for him to want to take back the tiniest bit of control.

Steve pushes his hips forward, grinding his erection against Eddie's, enough to assert himself a little. Eddie groans deeply at the back of his throat. And again even louder when Steve runs his fingers across the bumps and ridges of his fake-ammo belt then slides them down to Eddie's ass, using the leverage to pull them together once more. Like he’d hoped, Eddie's mouth slides away from his.

“Jesus Christ,” he curses under his breath.

“Fuck me, Eddie,” Steve whispers before Eddie can capture his mouth again. Eddie freezes, breathing hard, searching Steve's face with a wild look in his eyes.

“Do you mean…?”

“I’m ready,” Steve confirms. “I want it. I want to feel you inside me, I want…”

Eddie doesn't let him finish. He surges forward and kisses him again even more fiercely than before. Pressed so tightly against Steve that he can barely breath, but with Eddie like this he can't think enough to care. Only feel and taste and want.

“Let's go.” Eddie pulls back suddenly, leaving Steve gasping.

“What?”

Eddie kisses him once again, this one soft and almost chaste.

“I'm not fucking you for the first time in a dirty garage,” he says. “Or the back of the van,” he adds after checking over his shoulder to where Steve's eyes are pointing. “There’s no space. Even if I admire the eagerness.”

Steve flushes.

“It's so hot when you do that.” Eddie punctuates his sentence with another kiss. “Steve fucking Harrington going all innocent on me. But the first time we are doing this in a proper bed, with actual lube, and not whatever vaguely oil-like substance is lying around, ok?”

His heart pounding so hard he can barely breath, Steve nods.

“Ok.”

“So let's get moving then.”

Eddie hurries him out of the garage, so distracted he almost forgets to lock the door. He has to turn back with a curse, keys jangling in his hand.

While they don't exactly run the few blocks from the garage to Eddie's building, they aren't strolling casually either. Eddie keeps Steve going by gripping his elbow every now and then, or pressing a hand to his back and whispering obscene promises in his ear. Steve's still hard and sweating much more than he should be in the cool November night by the time they finally reach Eddie's front door.

Eddie rips his damp vest over his head almost before the door has closed behind them. He immediately reaches out to help Steve out of his t-shirt too, but instead of going for his pants next he wraps his arms around him and kisses him again, as though there'd been no interruption between the garage and here.  

The difference is here there's no wall behind them. Crushed happily against Eddie's bare, clammy chest, Steve stumbles backwards. Eddie's rough hands roaming the bare skin of his back, while Steve feels through the damp curls at the nape of Eddie's neck.

When Steve's legs hit the bed, Eddie stops pushing. He breaks away from kissing Steve, and searches his face intently. Chest heaving, pupils blown wide with lust.

Not wanting Eddie to have a second of worry whether or not he really wants this, Steve slides his hands down his chest and cups the bulge between his legs. Excited flutters dance through his body at the thought of having Eddie's cock inside him. Stretching him out so much more than the finger or two he’s had before.

“Please,” he whispers, and it's enough to propel Eddie into movement once more. Feverish fingers dart to Steve's belt, making short work of getting it undone before starting on his button and zipper. Steve returns the gesture and for a moment they're little more than a desperate tangle of limbs and fabric. Falling backwards onto the bed in their haste to remove their last few items of clothing.

Once they're both naked, Eddie pushes on Steve's shoulders to make him lie back. He crawls over him, pressing kisses up his body as he goes. Knee, thigh, hip, cock, stomach, chest, neck. Steve's writhing and desperate by the time he's eye level again. He grabs Eddie by the back of the head and pulls him into another fiery kiss. 

Eddie goes willingly. One thing Steve's learned over the last couple of months is that he never has to beg for kisses. Eddie’s all too eager. Whether it's casually pressing his mouth against whatever skin is exposed as he walks past, or spending ages just lying down on the couch making out.

It's always welcome, and at times like these it's downright intoxicating. Pressed against each other, and running greedy hands over Eddie's bare skin. Enjoying the flex and slide of his lean muscles. 

Eddie reaches down and strokes Steve's cock a couple of times. The second he makes contact a lightning bolt of pleasure jolts through Steve's groin and stomach. He gasps into the kiss and pushes up into Eddie's grip. He whines when Eddie lets go, but then he runs his thumb down the soft skin behind his balls, travelling downwards. Steve cries out when it presses directly against his hole.

Abruptly, Eddie pulls away and rolls over towards the nightstand. It takes a few moments of loud rummaging, but he locates the lube tucked away in a drawer and waggles it at Steve triumphantly.

“Do you want to turn over?” Eddie asks, hungry eyes raking over Steve's body. “It might be easier, for the first time.”

“No,” Steve answers instantly. “I want to see you.”

Eddie groans, his eyes rolling back in his head. “God damn it Steve when you give in to something you really go all in don't you.”

A cold flash of panic settles in Steve's heart.

“Don't say that.” Steve rests a hand on Eddie's stomach, he makes sure he's looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not giving in. I am all in because I want to be here. With you.”

Because it's so incredible being able to do this almost whenever he wants to now, he reaches down and circles his fingers around Eddie's cock. It twitches in his grip and Eddie inhales with a loud hiss. When Steve starts to stroke, Eddie reaches down and grabs his hand, stilling it.

“Don't,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna fucking lose it when I’m inside you.”

A shudder of anticipation runs down Steve's spine. 

Eddie rises onto his knees and gently manoeuvres Steve until he’s on his back again. Lifting and spreading his legs so he can position himself between them. Steve's heart rate accelerates even more when he squirts a generous blob of lube onto his fingers and closes the little distance between them to hover over him.

“Keep talking to me,” Eddie rumbles. “Any time you need me to slow down, just say the word.”

Steve nods, although he's pretty sure he's going to be begging Eddie for faster and more in a few minutes.

Eddie leans down and kisses Steve's stomach at the same time as those lubed up fingers reach his asshole. He drags his tongue across Steve's skin, dipping into his belly button. At the same time Eddie's index finger swirls around the outside of his hole, spreading the lube and leaving a cool trail in its wake. Then he slips it in.

Steve gasps. He does every time. He never would have believed how good this could feel, even when it was already a nebulous want, a hazy desire. The real thing makes the guilty, miserable fantasies which were all he had for months seem like less than shadows.

Eddie's finger slides in and out of him. Circling, gently stretching his tight ring of muscle. Exactly like he thought Steve finds himself begging for more all too quickly. More stretch. More anything. Just more.

Eddie grins against his skin and obliges, a second finger joining the first. Steve groans loudly, his body buzzing with pleasure. He flexes his hips, chasing Eddie's fingers as they withdraw. Eddie chuckles.

“God, you're always so eager.”

“More,” Steve gasps. “Eddie, please.”

“Already? Jesus Christ.” Eddie teases. He pulls his fingers out, making Steve whine in protest. Eddie shakes his head fondly at him and squeezes more lube out onto his hand.

“I told you, I’m doing this properly,” he admonishes lightly. “I want you to enjoy it.”

“If you don't put something in me right now I'm going to lose my mind,” Steve growls.

“Ok, ok.”

Eddie leans over and kisses his neck, tongue lapping at the point where it meets his shoulders. Steve's about to protest again when Eddie bites down and pushes three fingers into him. It's more than he’s ever taken before. Even with the distraction of Eddie sucking on his neck it takes a moment to relax and enjoy the stretch again. Then Eddie presses his fingers in even further and brushes against that devastating place inside him. Steve's hips lift fully off the mattress as he cries out. His cock, so hard it aches, jumps and smears fluid on his stomach.

“There you go,” Eddie murmurs into his neck. Steve's so far gone that even that vibration feels like someone stroking his cock. Then Eddie gets to work in earnest. Pumping in and out, twisting and scissoring as he goes. Stretching Steve fully open. Steve's gasping and writhing beneath him. Eddie's cock presses against his hip, leaking too, and all he can think about is how much bigger it is than Eddie's fingers and what it's going to feel like inside him.

“Eddie,” he gasps, unable to make any other words at this point.

“I know sweetheart, I know,” Eddie kisses his neck, nuzzling his nose into his skin. “I can't fucking wait. You’re so goddamn tight.”

Steve whimpers and pushes himself down on Eddie's fingers even harder.

“Shh,” Eddie soothes, pressing gentle kisses across Steve's neck. “I’m getting there.” 

He withdraws his fingers from Steve's ass, leaving him aching with emptiness. He lifts Steve's knees, so his feet are on the bed and his legs spread wide. Then he slicks up his cock with an extremely generous amount of lube. He braces himself on one hand, hovering over Steve's body, while the other guides his cock to Steve's entrance.

“We’re doing this slow,” he says earnestly, “if it's too much you tell me, ok?”

Steve bites his lip to stop himself groaning with frustration and nods.

“Good boy,” Eddie whispers and heat roars through him. It's a good thing too because Eddie pushes forward, letting the blunt end of his cock slip into him.

Steve stops breathing. It’s so much more overwhelming than the three fingers he’d had before. All the muscles from his stomach down clench and he clutches at Eddie's arms.

“Just breathe sweetheart,” Eddie rasps. His chest heaving, muscles trembling with control, he watches Steve's face intently. Steve does as he's told, letting a long slow breath out. A little more of Eddie's cock slides in.

“You feel incredible,” Eddie chokes. “Now relax for me, baby.” 

Steve breathes deeply, focussing on willing his body to relax and accept the intrusion. Eddie goes excruciatingly slowly, pushing his cock into Steve until their hips meet. By the time Eddie's all the way in Steve feels wrung out, like he's been made to run laps for hours. 

“You ok?” Eddie asks, the words breathy and low. He brushes the sweaty hair off of Steve's face and licks up the outside of his ear. Every touch, every tiny movement of his body, from breathing to trembling, makes shards of pleasure shoot up his spine.

“It feels so good, oh God, Eddie.”

Steve holds onto Eddie as he pulls his cock out then drives forwards again. Blinding heat roars up every single one of Steve's nerve endings. He's never felt anything like it. The drag of Eddie's cock, the way it sparks something incredible with every stroke, the friction on his own cock where it's trapped between their bodies. Steve's thighs close around Eddie without really meaning to. It's just another way to cling to him.

The pleasure is so intense it feels like he's floating. Dimly, he's aware that he's whispering. He's not sure whether he's saying ‘yes’ or ‘Eddie’ more but he can't stop either word falling from his lips.

“Shit, baby, you feel so good,” Eddie gasps. He dives forward and kisses Steve again, at just the right moment.

Some other words almost slipped out.

I love you.

He doesn’t want to say it now. And not because it isn't true. It is true. It's been building inside him for every second of these last two months. Longer even. He doesn't want to say it now because even though being with a man is still new to him, he's pretty sure that it doesn't change the fact that now would be the worst possible moment to say it for the first time.

So he bites it back. Loses himself in the kiss instead. It's so easy. If he could exist on oxygen from Eddie's lungs only he would. Everything is warm, feverish, and his body feels so full in a way he feels like he could get addicted to. One hand tangles in Eddie's sweaty hair, keeping him close. The other lies against Eddie's side, feeling the muscles move beneath his scarred skin. Every stroke of Eddie's cock driving him higher and higher. 

Eddie pulls away from Steve's mouth, he whimpers and chases it, but then Eddie's hand reaches in between them and grips his cock, and Steve’s head falls back against the pillow. He moans loud and long. His cock leaking in Eddie's hand.

Eddie doesn't really have to do anything else, the movement of their bodies slides his hand up and down Steve's cock. At the same time Eddie seems to reach deeper and deeper inside him with every stroke. He's trembling all over. Then intense pleasure peaks and crests and he comes harder than he ever has before, his vision going grey at the edges. Spilling over Eddie's hand and making it sticky between their bodies.

“Oh god baby, you’re incredible when you come,” Eddie growls. Still moving, stroking Steve's cock through his orgasm. 

Eddie buries his face into Steve neck when he comes. Cursing sweetly into his skin and driving his cock into him. Warmth fills him and Steve clings tightly onto Eddie, desperate to draw out the moment.

When it passes, they lie there, chests heaving. Steve's as sweaty as Eddie now, but whose sweat it is and how much is fresh he has no idea. His head is spinning, Eddie's cock still in him, and even after everything he's a little shocked by just how much he wants it to stay there. To keep them joined just a little longer.

He turns his head, pulling Eddie into a languid kiss. Wet and slow and soft after their frenetic energy of before.

Steve sighs in disappointment when Eddie gently pulls out and lies down next to him.

“We can do it again right?” he asks, flushing when his brain catches up with his mouth.

Eddie laughs. “You think I'm ever going to turn you down?” His mouth twists sarcastically. “That’s cute.” 

He raises his arm and sniffs his armpit dramatically. “Although I’m going to need a shower first, or you might pass out from the stench next time.”

“I’m willing to try…”

Eddie snorts another laugh, before schooling his features into a pleading expression.

“Come on, baby, don't let me shower all alone…” Although he must know just how badly Steve also needs to clean up he still puts on a pout. An actual pout. Steve leans over and kisses his protruding bottom lip.

“How could I when you ask like that?”

He wants to say it. I love you. But he wants it to be the right moment. Wants Eddie to know he means it and it's not just part of a sex-haze. There'll be a right moment. He'll find it.

The bar is pretty packed, considering his manager told him the Friday after Thanksgiving was always quiet, but he doesn't mind. If the people need a place to escape their families for a few hours, well then he's happy to do his part in providing one.

It's also a nice excuse to get them out of the apartment for the night, seeing as it's almost clean again after the debacle that was yesterday's drunken board game marathon, and they have four sixteen year olds arriving tomorrow for a much begged for visit. Staying long enough to catch Corroded Coffin at their next performance on Tuesday. From what he can gather their parents seem to be under the impression that one of Eddie's weeknight gigs will be less wild than a weekend one, and it's not his job to set them straight about that. He's got enough to worry about already and it's not like it's as perilous as battling dimension-hopping monsters.

He wipes down the bar in a pause after a mini rush, finishing as always by the stools which are by now Eddie, Robin and Mary's usual spots.

“So, are you all ready for the big day?” Robin asks. “Not long to go now until your children are here.”

The first time Robin called them this had required some rapid explanations to an alarmed looking Mary; but as soon as she understood that he didn't actually have multiple kids by his early twenties who he was hiding away somewhere, or was otherwise on the run from, she joined in laughing along with Robin.

“Yeah, have you told them they don't have to split custody time between you anymore?” she teases now, glancing between him and Eddie.

Eddie shoots him a look, like he's not quite sure where Steve's head is at despite the many conversations they've had about this now. So it's Steve who answers for the both of them.

“No, not yet, but we're going to, when they're here.” 

Eddie’s whole body relaxes at his answer. Which is good, but also worrying. Maybe he does just need to throw caution to the wind and say it already. I love you. Let Eddie know for certain that he's all in.

Robin sucks in a loud breath. “Wow, in person? Isn't that a bit risky?” 

“Don’t sweat it,” Eddie says. “We figured it was best to rip off the bandaid while they're all in one room, you know?”

“You guys are going to blow their tiny little minds,” she smirks.

A little flutter of nerves makes it known in Steve's chest. No matter how much he tries to tell himself he's being ridiculous. That it’ll be fine. That they're just a bunch of kids. It's a lie. Since his parents decided he already dropped off the face of the earth, without even knowing anything at all about Eddie, these kids are the closest thing he has left to family outside of Eddie and Robin.

“Well that's good because there's no way you’d be able to hide it from them,” Mary notes, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“Hey!” Steve objects.

“She's right,” Robin retorts drily, “two minutes in a room with you and they're going to work it out.”

Eddie glares at them both, but they take no notice. To be fair, it also looks a lot like he's trying not to laugh, which really dulls the impact. Steve strongly suspects that, like him, he's just glad she's feeling up to teasing them.

“They’ll probably work it out before they've left the airport,” Mary jokes. Robin laughs along quietly then takes a sip of her beer. It doesn't seem worth it to point out that only he’s going to pick them up, it almost certainly won't change their opinion. 

“Do you honestly think we can't control ourselves for two minutes?” Eddie flashes him a cheeky wink. He doesn't respond. It isn't exactly helping their case.

“Nope.”

“We’re doing fine right now,” Steve grumbles. He wipes at an imaginary spot on the clean bar.

“Yeah, and getting all pouty about it is really making your point.” Mary gestures at him with her half-empty beer bottle.

Eddie sighs in mock hurt.

“What is it with you two ganging up on us?”

“Er, it's two on two,” Robin reminds him. “If you can't hold your own that's your problem.”

A voice at the other end of the bar calls him away before he can say anything else.

It might be a little too quiet sitting here on his own, but Eddie doesn’t envy Steve in the slightest. Having a car full of over-excited teenagers sounds like hell. Especially when he's sitting on big news that they swore they’d tell them together. Steve's an open book, the fact that something is on his mind will be written all over his face and Dustin in particular will not let that go easily.

He really should take a leaf out of the kid’s book. Steve's clearly had something on his mind for a couple of weeks and it's been driving Eddie mad trying to work out what it could be. He thought at first that it was the fact his parents seem to have given up on him, and maybe it is, but he can't shake the thought that it's something else. Something to do with them. 

After getting a second chance, Steve's been all in. Never missing a chance to see him, or touch him. He's been acting like a kid who got exactly what he wanted for Christmas. He agreed straight away that they should be upfront with the kids, and never wavered in that decision once. But there's this thing, this indefinable feeling that he's holding something back, and every time he notices it sits like a stone in the bottom of his stomach.

Robin, of course, thinks he's just worried about the conversation to come. For all her teasing at the bar, she hugged him a little longer than normal before heading out with Mary. Even asked if he wanted them to come back here rather than sticking with the original plan of staying over at Mary's for a couple of nights. He told her to escape while she could, but he appreciated the offer. They might not really be ‘their’ kids, but they're like the four annoying little brothers he never asked for. It's going to be heartbreaking if they lose them over this. And miserable right at the start of four days together. The problem is, it feels even worse to lie to them for all that time then tell them just before they leave. No, right away is best, then they know what they're dealing with.

Once the girls are gone he wanders aimlessly around the apartment, unable to sit still. He paces from room to room, except Robin's, occasionally picking something up then putting it down again. Finally, after he's lost count of the number of laps he’s done, he lies down on Steve's bed. Distracting himself with the comforting scent clinging to the sheets and miming in thin air a new riff that’s gradually coming to life in his mind. Not quite enough to make anything of yet, but hopefully soon.

Then the front door bursts open and the room next door to him is suddenly filled with excitable chatter.

“This is so cool!”

“I can't believe you live here!”

And of course, just like he’d suspected, a whine from Dustin.

“Come on Steve, we're out of the car, spill already!”

The others groan. It looks like Mary was only half right. The kid figured out something was up but not what. And he hasn't shut up about it since.

After a long exhale, which doesn't make him feel any less nervous, Eddie gets off the bed and makes his way to face down the horde.

“Eddie!” Dustin Henderson is the first to spot him. To his surprise the kid runs in for a hug. He returns the gesture, cursing his overdramatic brain for wondering if this will be the last time.

“Is that Steve's room?” Dustin asks, looking past Eddie's shoulder into the room in question. “Why were you in Steve's room?”

Three pairs of inquisitive eyes are instantly on him. Damn that kid. They're really going to have to do this now.

“I was waiting for you,” Eddie shrugs. He’s not really stalling, he just needs to be standing next to Steve before they do this. “I wouldn't fit in the car with all of you there, remember?”

He walks away, leaving a confused Dustin staring behind him. Passing the other three, equally baffled, boys on his way.

“But why would you wait in…,” Dustin trails off and the back of Eddie's neck prickles. Sure enough,

“Noooo,” he says behind him, voice full of dawning realisation. “I knew you guys were being weird, but…no way…really?”

Eddie reaches Steve and squeezes his fingers quickly, while his body hides the gesture from the rest of the room. He meets Steve's worried but resolute eyes until he gives him the smallest nod. Then he turns to face the group of teenagers. One shocked, three mystified, looking from Dustin to Eddie and back again.

“You're dating Steve?!” Dustin exclaims.

Three voices suddenly start talking all at once. Only Will doesn't join in. Instead, he sinks down onto the arm of the couch, face oddly pale. He's not sure whether he needs to be worried about his reaction, or if it's just how he reacts to big news. Will’s the one that Eddie knows least of all these kids. Maybe he's a quiet processor. Hopefully that's what it is.

None of the others seem to notice. They're still talking all at the same time and getting louder and faster so that Eddie can hardly hear himself think, let alone have a chance to formulate any answers.

“Ok, ok, ok!” Eddie shouts over the noise, waving his arms for attention. “Enough!”

The group falls mercifully silent.

“Yes, Steve and I are ‘dating’ each other. Thanks for that, Henderson.” The incredulous noises start up again and he raises his hands to quiet them. “And as this apparently requires some kind of a response you have exactly two minutes to ask questions,” he adds in a flash of inspiration, “after that it's just something that is and you have to deal with it, understood?” 

The boys nod, too stunned to question him. Eddie gestures at Steve to start timing on his watch. His mouth is drawn into a narrow line, like he's holding back hysterical laughter, but he plays along, setting the two minute timer. 

“Right!” Eddie shouts to get their attention. “One at a time. Go.” Steve's watch beeps quietly as he presses the start button.

“But you're both dudes?” Mike blurts out, frowning as though he's trying to solve a particularly difficult equation.

“Excellent powers of observation Wheeler,” Eddie can't help but taunt, “we are indeed both dudes. Was there some question about that?”

“Isn't that weird?”

“No it isn't,” Eddie answers forcefully. “Any other questions?”

“You dated Nancy?” The next question is directed at Steve, Lucas making it sound like this fact is somehow in question now. “How are you gay now? Was she like a cover or something?”

“No she wasn't a cover,” Steve answers softly. “I liked her then,” he flushes. “I like Eddie now. That's all there is to it.”

The warmth in his chest hearing Steve say that out loud makes him want to kiss him, but now is not the time. Instead, he covers with more bluster.

“Newsflash Sinclair, a person can find both girls and guys hot.”

“Does Robin know? Is that why she wouldn't date you?” Dustin chimes in. Steve stiffens next to him and Eddie heroically manages to restrain a sigh. This again.

“Yes she knows, and no it isn't why she wouldn't date me.”

At some point they are going to have to kick all these kids out so he can show Steve just how much he appreciates what he's doing now. With enough time he might be able to show him twice.

“Who else knows?” Mike pipes up. A much more sensible question this time, maybe there's hope for him yet.

“The band,” Eddie answers, “some friends down here. Wayne.”

Steve's hand lands on his back.

“You told Wayne about us?”

Eddie blinks up at him. Surely he told him this already? But Steve looks both surprised and happy.

“Well yeah, of course. He's known about me since eighth grade. He's just happy if I’m happy.”

“So you haven't told your parents?” The happiness dims in Steve's eyes at Lucas's next question.

“No, and I don't know if I’m going to. They aren't really all that involved in my life at the moment.”

Eddie considers his boyfriend's stoic expression for a moment. Maybe the thing on his mind really is just his parents. It’s tough being abandoned, no matter how old you are. Eddie should know.

“Does the record company know?” Mike fires out another question. Eddie blinks. That one he was not expecting.

“Weird question, but ok. I don't think so? They've never asked. I guess they don't really want to know stuff like that.”

“How long have you been dating?” Dustin asks. He sits down next to Will, who hasn't asked a single question yet. Whatever’s going on there, and he's starting to suspect it's not entirely to do with him and Steve, he’ll have to wait until the kid decides to open up to find out.

“Officially?” Eddie decides to keeps things simple. “Two months.”

“Officially,” Dustin repeats, looking from one of them to the other. Then thoughtfulness turns into shock once more, and a healthy dose of mortification too. “Oh my god, it wasn't Robin he hooked up with that time they visited you was it?”

A chorus of embarrassed coughs circle around the room. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Steve flush, but Eddie grins wide.

“Nope.”

“But you didn't actually start dating until after they moved here?”

“Exactly right.” 

Steve's watch beeps loudly. 

“And that concludes question time, gentlemen.” Eddie rubs his hands together. “Now…”

“Wait, can I tell El?” Mike interrupts.

“Look, this isn't gossip man, this is our lives.” He doesn't think he's ever spoken so softly or seriously to the kid. Mike’s eyes drop to his feet. “But on the basis that she saved both the world and my ass, yes you can. There's no point hiding it from her anyway, she can take a peek in your brain or my brain if she really wants to know.”

Lucas opens his mouth, but Eddie doesn't let him get the obvious next question out. 

“You can tell Max too. But that's it. I don't want to hear that this is being talked about all over Hawkins, are we clear on that?”

The teens all mumble agreement, although he can tell they've only scratched the surface of all their questions. Will, especially, looks like he's got a million thoughts racing through his head. Maybe it's because he's quieter than the others, after everything he's been through, or maybe he feels like he doesn't know them as well. Or maybe it's something more personal. Who knows. He’ll have to give Steve a heads up that more questions might be coming their way in private.

“Now, who wants to play DnD?” he asks.

Robin's leg bounces, her foot tapping against the floor. Mary's hand squeezing hers can't calm her down. Not even the comforting antiseptic scent of the room helps.

“You’ve had your ears done, this'll be no worse than that,” Mary reassures her, “it’ll be fine.”

Nerves flutter in her chest. This had seemed like such a good idea right up until the moment they walked through the door of the tattoo and piercing parlour Mary recommended and it all became frighteningly real.

“Why did I decide to do this?” Robin mutters to herself.

“You want to leave?” Mary asks. Robin takes a deep breath. She means it. If she said the word they'd walk out the door no questions asked. 

“No.”

Mary laughs in a fond way she has whenever she thinks Robin's being ridiculous. 

“Then suck it up, buttercup. Rain’ll be here soon.”

Sure enough, the words are barely out of her mouth when a short woman with black hair and more metal in her face than Robin's ever seen steps into the room. She fixes them with a cheery smile.

“Miz Mayhem!” she says sweetly. “You brought me a new sacrifice I see?”

Robin stares wide eyed between the two of them. Sacrifice? God let her be joking. Please let her be joking. Mary grins and kisses Robin's cheek.

“Yeah, but I want to keep this one, so just the nose piercing today, ok?”

Robin does her best not to show her deep relief. The woman, Rain, gestures to the dentist-style chair in the middle of the room.

“What side do you want?” she asks when Robin's settled semi-comfortably.

She answers Rain’s questions through a haze of anxiety. When the woman turns around to sort the things she needs, a gentle touch on her arm makes her jump. It’s Mary. She rubs Robin's arm lightly, then squeezes her hand again.

“It'll be over soon,” she whispers. “The pain is short, then you get to enjoy it.”

Robin's heart hammers, but it's not all fear for the pain of the piercing. With absolute certainty, she knows she wouldn't be in this chair if it weren't for meeting Mary. The Robin of six months ago could never have done it. That Robin also never would have dared say anything to her parents. She would have been too afraid of the fall out, which does suck big time, but beneath the sadness at how her parents have taken the news, she's lighter and happier than she's been since that first moment at school when she realised exactly why she couldn't stand Steve, with his dumb hair and gross bagel crumbs, and Tammy Thompson constantly fawning all over him. It's like she's really living, for the first time in her life, instead of scurrying around in the shadows, hoping no one really sees her.

Mary did see her. She saw beneath it all. She saw the version of her who Robin hadn't ever really allowed to exist before. The one who's sitting in this chair and actually following through on the first truly wild idea she's ever had. And Mary doesn't care when the old Robin rears her head and tries to stop her enjoying this new life with her perpetual cycle of worry. She didn't dare tell Steve or Eddie what she was planning today in case she backed out at the last minute, but Mary she couldn't imagine not telling. She’s beautiful, talented, brash and unapologetic. She could have anyone she wants but she's staying exactly where she is right now, holding Robin’s hand. 

Robin squeezes a little tighter.

“I love you,” she whispers. Mary's eyes widen.

“Ok, all ready?” Rain bustles back over, her voice making them both jump.

Robin nods. “Let's get this over with.”

Robin's expecting Mary to bring it up the second they're outside of the shop, but she doesn't. Instead they stroll a few blocks towards the street where Mary parked her car. She keeps up a soft stream of small talk, and Robin does her best to respond, but inside she’s shaking like a leaf. Was it too soon? Has she freaked her out? A little park comes into view to their right and Mary steers her towards it. It's small, but the fall leaves are pretty and there's a bench beneath a tree. Mary sits, and pats the wood next to her to indicate Robin should as well.

Surprisingly warm sun beats down on her back. Now she's not concentrating on walking, Robin flares her nose a few times, and pokes gently at her new stud. 

“Leave it alone!” Mary chides, “you’ll stop it healing.”

“I can see it,” Robin says. She hadn’t been expecting that. After all, how often do you look at your nose? She crosses her eyes to stare at it. “Oh shit, what happens when I sneeze?”

“You sneeze, it's no big deal. Just don't yank it out by accident with a tissue or something.” 

Although her tone sounds normal, Mary doesn't laugh at her the way she usually would. The change makes Robin prickle all over with apprehension.

“Did you mean it?” Mary finally asks. 

She says it so quietly and softly that Robin's nerves spike even more. She wipes her hand against her jeans, suddenly extremely self-conscious at just how sweaty is. She can't look at Mary when she answers, fixing her eyes on the chain link fence and washed out concrete of the buildings on the other side of the park.

“Yeah, I did.” She goes to wipe her hand again, but manages to stop and place it resolutely on the bench instead. “I do.” 

She starts when Mary's hand covers her own. It takes a second or two, but she manages to tear her eyes away from the not very interesting building to look down at them, and then at Mary herself. Mary's watching her, a small smile on her face. 

“Good,” she says. “Do you want to go for ice cream?”

Robin blinks in confusion.

“Ice cream? In November?”

With her free hand Mary indicates the blue skies.

“You ain't in Little House no more, Ingalls,” she teases.

“Ok.”

Robin gets to her feet slowly, still confused about Mary's response. Then Mary threads her arm through Robin’s to lead her through the park, presumably in the direction of the promised ice cream. She leans her head close.

“I do, too,” she murmurs. “Going to the bar that night was the best decision I ever made.”

Robin's heart flutters, but it isn't nerves any more.

Somehow Steve manages to open their door without waking any of the sleeping teenagers littered all over his living room floor. Their sleeping bags make them look like four enormous, quietly snoring, slugs sliding across the carpet. Carefully he closes the door behind him and throws the deadbolt, then picks his way between the dark shapes. 

He's too tired to really care, but he notes with mild irritation the DnD figures, empty soda cans and ring binders still scattered over their previously clean coffee table. But it's a small price to pay for having Eddie keep them all entertained while he worked his last shift for the next few days at the bar. 

Swaying with tiredness, he treads a hopeful path to the kitchen. Delighted when he finds a pizza box shoved in the fridge, containing an assortment of leftover slices. He snags one that seems to have what he considers an acceptable amount of sausage on it. The fridge rattles when he closes it; he holds his breath, but none of the boys stir.

He knows his hunger is really a sign of tiredness, but the slice is still gone by the time he makes it to his bedroom door. He wipes his hand on his shirt to get off as much grease as possible then grabs the door handle.

Eddie's asleep in his bed, stretched out on his front. Top half bare and Steve's duvet settled around his waist. Like every time he comes home to this, Steve finds himself standing with his back to the closed door, watching Eddie sleep. Admiring the lean muscles of his back, the dim light obscuring the light scarring Eddie carries even there.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Eddie murmurs, voice slurred and rough with sleep. He stretches and turns slightly, looking at Steve through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Sorry,” Steve hisses. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

"Jus’ get over here.” Eddie throws his arm to the side to pat the space next to him with a clumsy hand.

Steve steps into the room properly, stripping himself down to his briefs. He leaves his clothes in a pile on the floor next to Eddie's. He hates doing it, but he's too tired to deal with them now. That's a job for after he's had some sleep.

At some point while he was removing his clothes, Eddie's rolled over onto his back. His eyes are open now and he's watching Steve's every move with a tiny grin on his face.

“Who’s staring now?” Steve teases in a hoarse whisper.

“A man can't admire the view?” Eddie retorts.

Steve climbs over Eddie to settle into the free spot by the wall. They never discussed it, but it's ended up being his side of the bed both here and at Eddie's, although Eddie's bed isn't pushed against the wall like Steve's. 

“Did you have any trouble with them?” Steve asks. Eddie rolls over again so they're facing each other.

“Nah, they had some trouble with a dragon, but they didn't say anything more about us. Not even after you kissed me…”

“On the cheek!” Steve protests quietly. To be honest he hadn't even thought about it, he kisses Eddie goodbye all the time. It's automatic by this point. It was only when he saw the surprised eyes of the teenagers around the coffee table that he realised it might be a step further than they were prepared for.

“I’m not complaining.” Eddie grins. “Just thought it might open the floodgates again, but it didn't. Not even Will.”

Steve frowns, his tired brain struggling to make sense of Eddie's train of thought. Will? He's the least trouble of all of those kids.

“Will?”

“You didn't notice? He didn't say a damn thing after we told them.”

“Oh,” Steve thinks back. “I guess not. Do you think he's got a problem with it or something?”

Eddie scrunches up his face. 

“Not exactly,” he says. “I could be way off base here, but I think it might have hit a little too close to home, if you know what I mean.”

It takes Steve longer than it should to work out exactly what Eddie does mean.

“You think Will might be gay?”

“Maybe,” Eddie says softly, “just maybe. He could also just be really quiet and not the type to ask a million and one questions. But I guess we'll have to be prepared that he might decide to come to us when he's ready to talk about it. Of course, he might not. He's pretty close to his brother, but, yeah, I just wondered.”

“Wow. Yeah. I can't believe I didn't notice that.”

Even though he's almost halfway to sleep, Steve's heart swells because of course Eddie noticed. No matter that they're living thousands of miles away now, he's still looking out for these kids. Even Will, who he met for the first time while he was still in his hospital bed, and instantly declared him a Hellfire member, despite not being anywhere near well enough to run a session.

Eddie interrupts his thoughts by kissing him. Although it's only one quick press of their lips together before he lies back down again. If it weren't for the heaviness of sleep and the surprise Steve might have tried to make it more. But he's still trying to make his body move when Eddie speaks.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. It might be nothing anyway.”

He doesn't think he can move any more. His limbs aren't responding to commands. They lapse into silence and Steve drifts closer and closer towards sleep. Suddenly, Eddie says,

“Did I mention how fucking awesome you were today?”

“I wasn't,” Steve mumbles.

“You were,” Eddie insists. “You just straight up told those kids you liked me. Even kissed me in front of them. After everything that's happened I just wanted you to know how much that meant to me.”

Steve's eyes have closed. When did that happen? Somehow he manages to force his body to shuffle closer to Eddie's, wriggling across the mattress until his nose makes contact with Eddie's shoulder and he can throw an arm across his waist.

“‘course I did,” Steve snuggles closer. “I love you.” 

“You what?” Eddie's loud gasp in his ear has his eyes flying open, mind stunned instantly awake. Shit, he just said that out loud, didn't he? 

“I…um…I…” 

Eddie doesn't let him get another sound out. He lifts his chin and kisses him. It's like the first time all over again. Caught in a fog of shock he forgets how to respond. Eddie chuckles against his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says when they break apart. “I didn't mean to say it then, I wanted to wait, find the perfect time.”

“Of course you did,” Eddie says, still fighting back giggles, “and I bet you've been worrying about that haven't you?”

Steve frowns quizzically at Eddie, unsure what that's got to do with anything.

“Never mind,” Eddie waves off his unspoken query. “I think you chose a pretty damn perfect time.”

“But it was…”

“I don't care.” Eddie rolls to face him again. “Did you know you're the whole reason I never went to gym class?”

Steve blinks at the sudden change in subject.

“What? Why?”

“Pretty difficult to fly under the radar if I popped a boner staring at your shorts,” Eddie states matter-of-factly.

The idea that Eddie was attracted to him even then should not affect him as much as it does, especially when he was almost asleep just seconds ago.

“But you hated the team,” he points out. It was no secret that the basketball team had basically been the ultimate evil in Eddie's eyes. And no wonder when you look at guys like Tommy, Andy, Jason, and, yes, him too, before Nancy helped him realise what a douche he was being. “You hated me.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, “that's what I told myself. It made it easier.” He pokes Steve's chest with his index finger. “Then goddamn Dustin Henderson insisted you were actually decent and I refused to believe him until all that upside down shit happened. After that I couldn't keep lying to myself anymore. I’ve fucking loved you since then, never stopped. Not even when I probably should have.”

Steve's heart skips a beat as Eddie reaches the point of his confession. He loves him. Using the arm he still has lying on Eddie, he pulls him closer. This time he remembers what to do. Eddie's mouth moves against his. Unhurried. Peaceful. It's home, warmth, calm. Fierce desire smoothed and softened by gentleness.

“You taste like pizza,” Eddie whispers and Steve has to muffle a burst of laughter against his shoulder.