Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“There you are, god finally.” Robin made a relieved sound from behind a shelf as Steve entered the Family Video. “Was starting to think you up and died. Humidity gave you hair trouble this morning?”

“Har dee har,” Steve rolled his eyes at the stupid smirk in Robin’s tone, combing a hand through his hair despite himself.

He pulled at his polo, grimacing as the fabric peeled uncomfortably from his skin.

Steve groaned. “There should be a saying like ‘April showers bring May flowers’ for June. Like ‘May flowers bring gross June heat waves’ or something.”

Robin finally popped up from her hiding spot behind the aisles, resting her chin in her palm. “Tell me about it,” she sighed, swiping at her bangs. The way they stuck to her forehead made it look much larger than usual, and Steve bit back a chuckle at the sight. “Doesn’t help in the slightest that Keith still hasn’t gotten the AC fixed. I’m going to kill that man.”

It had only been about 3 months since Vecna was killed, give or take. Things were finally feeling calm again, “normal” at least by Hawkins standards. Despite his complaining, he’d take the sweltering Indiana heat over freaky Upside Down bullshit any day.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall, suppressing the shiver that ran down his spine at the obnoxiously loud tick it made. They really needed a new one.

Robin turned at the sound of Steve’s exhale and scoffed. “Late again, Steve-o.”

“Thank you—for the info, Robin,” Steve raised his voice in annoyance. “Also no, technically I’m not late. We open at 10.”

“Mmh…you know what they say,” Robin walked over to the checkout and sat on the countertop. “5 minutes early is on time,” she said in a sing-songy voice.

Steve shook his head, walking over to stand beside her. “Never heard that in my life.”

“James Clavell. Noble House? No?” Steve levelled her with a look and Robin huffed. “I need to get you into more literature.”

“Hey, I’ve read To Kill a Mockingbird!” Steve defended. “That’s pretty profound stuff!”

“Yeah, in Mr. Hauser’s class.” Robin crossed her legs onto the counter, which probably wasn’t sanitary but did he care? “What’s the last book you’ve honest-to-God read that wasn’t for a grade?”

“…Don’t you have work to do?” Steve changed the topic, giving her a sideways glance.

“Don’t you?” Robin lifted her hand in a shrug. “I’ve already done my part of opening. Your turn, dingus.”

Steve jerked his head reluctantly. “Fine. What’s left?”

“Morning movie, you’re welcome.” Robin shuffled off the counter. “Lucky for you, I was feeling nice today.”

Steve nodded in mock gratitude. He wandered the shelves, running his finger across the titles. “Planet of the Apes, Space Odyssey…”

“Ooh yes. That one.” Robin piped, pointing.

“My turn, dingus.” Steve threw her own words back at her, chuckling as she stuck her tongue out at him. He grabbed a cassette and held it up. “King Kong?”

Robin snickered. “Do all your choices involve monkeys because you’re a goof?”

Steve gave her another look. “Yes or no?”

“Ehhh,” she made a conflicted face. “I don’t know, King Kong is such a damsel-in-distress film. So predictable.”

“Come on, this one has Jessica Lange in it.” Steve persuaded. “You were practically drooling over her in Tootsie.”

Robin rolled her eyes, although Steve could see her fighting a smile. “That’s because Jessica in Tootsie is every lesbian’s dream. In King Kong, she’s a prop. A very–hot prop.”

Steve sighed, but put the tape back.

Robin’s eyes scanned the room until she perked up, squealing. “What abooouut-“

She bounded across the room in a few steps and plucked a tape off the shelf, displaying it excitedly. “Monty Python. Holy Grail.”

Steve flicked his wrist dismissively. “Normal people don’t watch that movie, Robin.”

“Hey!” Robin frowned. “I like that movie!”

“My point,” he smirked when Robin scoffed offendedly. She held up the cassette, shaking it lightly.

“Monty Python are comedy legends, you empty-headed, animal food trough wiper.” Robin exclaimed in a thick French accent. “Not my fault you can’t recognize genius.”

“What—?”

Before he could even question what that meant, a loud banging interrupted their back-and-forth. Robin yelped at the sound and Steve just barely suppressed a flinch, head whipping toward the door.

Despite having the less trauma-induced reaction of the two, he couldn’t deny the way his blood pressure shot through the ceiling. The second he saw that tri-colored cap he knew all too well through the glass, his nerves immediately melted into irritation.

“Jesus,” Steve scrubbed a palm down his face as Robin shuddered out a breath, head in her hands. He marched over to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open. Dustin grinned as if he hadn’t just given them a heart attack.

“Can’t you read?” Steve leaned against the doorframe, nodding towards the sign on the door listing their hours.

“Yes Steve, I can. I read a lot, actually.” Dustin replied, ducking under the arm propping the door open. “Thanks for asking.”

“That was rhetorical.” Steve deadpanned, letting the door close behind them.

“Hi Dustin,” Robin breathed before holding up the two tapes. “Question: King Kong or Monty Python?”

Dustin assumed a hunch-backed posture, mimicking a sort of troll. “What’s the capital of Assyria, Brave Sir Robin?” he asked in a ghoulish voice, causing Robin to grin.

“I don’t know that!” she responded in a poor British accent.

Dustin and Robin cackled hysterically and high-fived, leaving Steve very confused. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel just a little out of the loop.

“Hell yeah. Eddie watches that movie all the time, I practically know half the script.” Dustin bragged, beaming.

“‘Course he does,” Steve grumbled quietly, feeling even more left out for some reason. So far his previous statement has yet to be disproven.

Dustin cleared his throat loudly. “Speaking of Eddie. I…have a proposition for you. Steve–”

Right. Henderson’s here at unacceptable hours for a reason. And for another reason Eddie’s also involved somehow. Which will make this so much easier to potentially say ‘no’ to.

“Alright…” Steve sighed before crossing his arms. “Hit me.”

Dustin took a deep breath before rambling. “So Eddie has this band thing tomorrow night at the Hideout, not to be confused with the Hide-away near Melvald’s but I think somewhere near Weathertop and the old steel mill and he’s—”

“Stop, stop—” Steve waved his arms, scrunching his face. “—You lost me.”

Dustin clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Eddie’s gig is tomorrow night and I really need a ride.”

Before Dustin could get the last of his sentence out, Steve was already shaking his head. “Mh-mh, no can do.”

“What?” Dustin shouted, holding his arms out. “Why not??”

Steve threw his hands up incredulously. “Because I have a life? I can’t be your personal chauffeur all the time.”

“What are you doing tomorrow that’s so important anyway?” Dustin scoffed, arms falling to his sides.

Steve gestured wildly around the room, eyes wide.

Dustin hesitated a moment, only to nod sheepishly. “Fair point.”

“Listen. As much as I’m dying to see Eddie and his band of misfits play Metal Mania or whatever it is they play, I can’t. Sorry man.” Steve shrugged his shoulders, arms crossing once more. “Find someone else to take you.”

“That’s the thing, Steve, there is no one else. Nancy has some reporter thing, and Robin–”

“Hi.” Robin waved at the mention of her name.

“–doesn’t have a license.” Steve finished, head dropping.

“Or a car,” she added innocently, though Steve could hear the amusement in her tone. He cast her a glare. She really wasn’t helping.

“Well, wh-what about your mother?” Steve stammered. “Right? I mean, there you go.”

“Steve.” Dustin stared at him blankly. “Do you think my sweet, God-fearing mother—would take me to a heavy metal concert—at a disreputable dive bar—on a Tuesday evening? To see Eddie?”

Steve opened his mouth stubbornly, only to snap it shut.

“Exactly.” Dustin nodded, as if he had just put him in checkmate. Therefore, enter Steven.”

“Uh no, no entering. Nobody is entering anywhere.” Steve straightened his posture, arms making a cutting gesture. “I physically cannot take you Dustin, I have to work.”

“Y’know…” A voice chimed in. Both Dustin and Steve snapped their heads to look at Robin, who was now listening intently to their conversation. She propped her head in her hand, elbows resting on the counter. “I could always get Keith to take your shift tomorrow.”

“You can?” Steve and Dustin asked in two very different tones.

“I may or may not have some…” Robin made a vague gesture. “…emergency blackmail.”

“Emergency—” Steve pinched his nose bridge and squeezed his eyes shut. He was going to kill her. Genuine homicide. This store was about to become a crime scene. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mumbled under his breath.

He opened his eyes to Dustin’s face, eyes hopeful and pleading. “Please, Steve. I promised Eddie I’d be there for when he debuts his new song and this is his first concert since…y’know.”

Dustin frowned. “He didn’t say it, but I think he’s worried no one will come and…I don’t wanna let him down.”

Steve’s heart wrenched. The bad part was that Dustin probably knew exactly what he was doing. The puppy-dog eyes, the genuine, pure-of-heart sincerity, all a bunch of bullshit. Probably.

The worst part is that it was working.

He exhaled loudly and groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “………Fine.”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Seriously??” He whooped, lunging at Steve and enveloping him in a hug. Steve threw his arms up as the wind was practically tackled out of him. Jeez, the kid’s almost as tall as him now. “Thank youuuu!”

“Alright, alright.” Steve patted his cap, hoping Dustin couldn’t see the smile spreading across his face. “You’re welcome. Now get out, before I change my mind.”

Dustin stepped back until he was at the door, pointing. “Tomorrow night, my house, 8:30 pickup. On. The. Dot. Do not be late.”

“Anything else, sergeant?” Steve replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Uhhh, I’ll give you directions when you get there!” he yelled, opening the door and running to his bike.

“You owe me gas money!” Steve hollered back, folding his arms and leaning against the frame.

“Okayy!” Dustin yelled as he pedaled away. Steve watched until Dustin’s bike was down the street and out of sight.

The bell dinged as Steve swung the door shut, massaging his brow. “You two are insufferable, you know that?”

“You love us.” Robin smirked, leaning up against the counter.

Steve made a disagreeing noise, but didn’t outright deny it either. He sighed and turned to flip the sign on the door from Closed to Open. When he turned back around, Robin was still staring at him, wearing that stupid smug grin.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You’re starting to weird me out.”

“Nothing.” Robin shook her head. “Someone just really seemed like they didn’t want to go to Eddie’s concert just now.” She faked a pout. “Even after all that bonding you guys did.”

Steve squinted. “What are you talking about?” He had no clue what Robin was trying to imply but whatever it was, he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“The Upside Down?” Robin said as if it was obvious. “Seemed like you two were getting pret-ty chummy down there.”

His face scrunched. “Don’t ever use the word chummy again. And no, we were not ‘bonding’, we just—talked.”

Robin stretched, bending her arms unnaturally. Steve often forgot she was double-jointed and it still freaked him out from time to time. “Listen, Steve. If you’re still jealous of Eddie after all this time then—I dunno what to tell you.”

“Jealous?” Steve furrowed his brow. “I’m not jealous, why do you think I would be jealous?”

Robin gave him an incredulous look before clasping her hands together obnoxiously. “Oh Eddie Munson, your new best friend who’s cooler than me and funnier than me and has better hair than me and—”

“Thaaat’s not what I said,” Steve interrupted, rolling his eyes when she chuckled. “Look, even if I was ‘jealous’ before, I'm over it.” he sighed, scratching at his chin. “Clearly, Dustin has enough room in his life for two older male role models.”

Robin made a face, urging him to go on.

“I just—“ Steve lolled his head frustratingly. “I dunno. Eddie’s still kinda weird.”

“You think I’m weird.” Robin shrugged her shoulder. “And you still hang out with me.”

Steve shook his head. “That’s—different.”

He chewed on his lip. Why was it different, though? Robin was weird, sure, but something about Eddie made his skin feel like live wire. It was uncomfortable, and frankly distracting whenever they were in the same room together.

It’s not like they were close, but his relationship with Dustin and Robin and the rest of the kids made him really damn hard to avoid.

He didn’t hate the guy. He couldn’t, not after what they all went through. Whether Steve liked it or not Eddie was part of the gang, ‘The Party’ in Dustin’s weird nerd lingo. And he was simply going to have to deal with that.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Eddie, or not even that he didn’t like him. It was just that whenever Eddie was around Steve he felt like he was having an allergic reaction.

He was just…wary of him. Yeah, that’s the word.

Wary.

Robin snapped in his face. “Helloo? Earth to Major Tom? You OD in there?”

“Hm?” Steve blinked, before realizing what she had said. “Oh, too soon, Rob.”

“It’s been a year,” she retorted, a teasing grin on her face.

Steve shook his head, feigning offense. “A year too soon.”

They stood in silence for a second, before Steve had to ask. “Do you actually have blackmail on Keith or did you just say that to throw me under the bus?”

Robin’s grin widened. “Ye-up. Saw him stuffing pornos in his bag last month. Not a single one checked out. He probably didn’t want them in the system.”

“Oh, gnarly.” Steve chuckled, though he wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

The bell chimed and a customer walked in. Pretty, blonde, and ironically, almost a spitting image of Jessica Lange. Steve and Robin made eye contact before he nodded wordlessly.

Robin smiled and Steve watched as she bounced towards the girl, greeting her just a little too loudly. Steve laughed to himself while popping the Monty Python tape in the VCR.

As the tape whirred, Steve’s mind began to wander again.

Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. He’d never been to a concert, and as far as he knew neither had Dustin, so that’d be a first for the both of them. He didn’t even have to talk to Eddie if he didn’t want to, although he’d kinda be being a piece of shit if he went that route.

Steve tried to shake any lingering doubts clouding his mind. He was overthinking this. It’d be fine.

Who knows? Maybe even fun.

Chapter Text

“Steve, I’m seriously about to hang up on you,” Robin threatened, voice buzzing through the landline. “You are not telling me that Jaws 3-D is in your top 5. Of all time.”

He hiked his shoulder up to his ears in bed, phone tucked between them. “It was cool, Rob! What, I’m not allowed to like cool things?”

“No, apparently not,” Robin scoffed, and Steve could practically hear her eyes rolling.

“Explains why I’m friends with you then, huh?” he shot back, smirking.

“Shut up,” Robin said with no hostility. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? You have such an exciting night ahead.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Steve groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Don’t remind me. I’m thinking of taking a preemptive Advil. Or ten.”

“And I thought we weren’t making overdose jokes,” Robin responded. “Hypocrisy.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking down at his old Hawkins Phys. Ed. tee that was definitely way too small now but still comfy enough for a night shirt. “How mad do you think he would be if I bailed right now?”

“Dustin?” Robin said incredulously. “Ballistically. Knowing him he probably wouldn’t talk to you all summer.”

“Eh, he’d get over it,” Steve shrugged, sinking deeper into the comforter.

“Steve,” Robin scolded.

“I’m kidding, I’m getting up,” he grunted, carding his fingers through his hair.

“Tell Eddie I said hi!” Robin teased, the smile in her voice more than evident. “Blow him a biiiig, fat kiss for me.”

“What’s that? Robin you’re—you’re breaking up I can’t—“ Steve cupped his palm and made static sounds into the receiver with his mouth.

“You are so—” Robin got out before Steve dropped the phone back into the cradle with a click, grinning. His smile fell and he sighed, craning his neck to look at the alarm clock on his dresser. He squinted, unable to make out the time. He dropped his head back into his pillow and exhaled. Maybe Robin was right about glasses.

Steve let his eyes fall shut, dragging a hand over them.

Three years ago if you told him he’d be just getting off the phone with Robin Buckley from Click’s class, to go take Nance’s kid brother’s friend to see Eddie “The Freak” Munson play his “angry devil worship music”, he would’ve thought you’d escaped Pennhurst.

Hell, if you told him anything about himself in the past three years, he would’ve thought he belonged at Pennhurst.

He huffed to himself. How things have changed, huh.

“Alright Steve, up we go.” Steve clapped and hoisted himself off the bed, tugging off his tee and briefs before heading to the bathroom across the hall.

He turned the faucet and let it run for a minute, steam filling the room. He stepped in, sighing softly as the scalding water hit his face and chest.

Steve heaved a deep breath, running his hands through his hair to give them something to do other than fidgeting at his sides. Why was he getting so freaked out about this? It was actually starting to piss him off.

Maybe the novelty of it all? Or some weird fear of not knowing what he was walking into? He scoffed. A bullshit excuse, he knew that. He’d fought and killed legit monsters. Yet he was getting all bent out of shape over Eddie’s stupid thing.

Steve scrubbed his skin raw, soapsuds running down his chest and legs. Eddie.

A twinge pulled in his gut. He had nothing to do with this. Whatever weird, unintentional walls he’d put up between him and Eddie and—this—were completely separate issues.

He squeezed his eyes shut as shampoo and conditioner streamed down his face, dunking his face under the shower head once again. Whatever was going on with him, it was stupid, and dumb, and obnoxiously inconvenient. All he had to do was get through this fucking concert and he could go back to keeping Eddie at a casual yet comfortable distance.

He shut off the water and stepped out, drying himself off and dampening his hair with a towel. He walked to the sink and swiped his hand across the mirror to clear the fog.

Steve grabbed his Farrah Fawcett and uncapped it, giving his hair the typical four puffs. He met his own eyes for a moment before giving his hair one final spray.

Which—was a habit he typically did for dates.

Steve blinked, and then laughed to himself, combing his hand through the drying strands. That must be it.

He’d been so pent-up and desperate for a date these past few months, maybe some horny part of his subconscious was anxiously awaiting some weirdo, gothic, heavy metal chick to slip him her number at the bar.

Not his usual type but hey, he wasn’t picky. A girl’s a girl.

Steve gave his mouth a quick rinse and spit before heading back to his room. He pulled out a fresh pair of briefs from his drawer and put them on, eyeing his closet.

He rifled through the wall of polos, and sweaters, and more polos, gradually becoming more and more frustrated. God, when did his wardrobe become so bright.

He’d tossed his clothes from their fight with Vecna after he couldn’t get the smell of burning flesh out of them, so all he was left with was a closet full of Lacoste and Ralph Lauren.

“So much for blending in,” Steve muttered, pulling out the drabbest gray shirt he owned. Even if it wasn’t his scene, he still wanted to avoid looking like he’d just stumbled in from A&F.

He also hadn’t done laundry in a minute, so of course he couldn’t find a clean pair of jeans.

Steve wandered around his room, eyes scanning the place over and over until they landed on what looked like a pant leg, just peeking out from underneath his bed. He crouched to the ground and smiled in victory, throwing the jeans onto his mattress.

He made a move to get up, but something else caught his eye, making him pause.

He pressed his face to the floor and squinted, noting how whatever it was gleamed, even under the bed.

“What?” Steve breathed, reaching out again. He didn’t own any jewelry. It very well could’ve been his watch, though he swore he left it on his desk earlier.

“Come on—” he grunted, further straining his arm under the bed until he made contact with something rough, like denim.

He pulled it out, expecting another pair of lost jeans, but choked at the realization.

Eddie’s vest.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he swore, stomach swooping. He forgot he even had this thing, that entire hellish week honestly a repressed stain in his mind.

Steve turned the jacket over in his hands, thumb swiping over the varied pins clipped to the breast pocket. A thin coating of dust rubbed off and he smacked the vest a couple times, shaking loose any leftover buildup.

The jacket seemed to grow heavier in his arms by the second, like it knew he wasn’t meant to have it in his possession. And yet, its pull was magnetic, he couldn’t look away.

An idea crossed his mind, sending his pulse into high gear.

“No,” he said out loud, dropping the vest onto his bed like it was on fire. He grabbed the pants instead, yanking them on one leg after the other.

He could feel the jacket burning a hole in his peripheral as he buttoned his jeans. Steve’s gaze drifted back to the vest like he couldn’t help it. Okay, yeah. This damn thing had to be cursed.

“Alright, what’s your deal?” Steve asked frustratedly, immediately feeling stupid talking to a piece of clothing.

He inspected the jacket again warily. No tentacles, no gross Upside Down goop, nothing. It was fine.

A part of him relaxed, but that unease in his gut didn’t dissipate.

Steve made a bracing face before reluctantly raising the vest to his nose, taking a brief whiff. It smelled like cigarettes and musk. That’s it, nothing strange about it.

He took another sniff. A little metallic, too, like zinc buttons and dry blood. Another. And bergamot.

Okay this was weird, he was being weird. Steve pulled the vest away from his face, grimacing at the heat pooling in his cheeks.

That stupid idea from earlier came back again and this time he let it linger, chewing on his lip in thought.

Steve’s brow twitched up in consideration. Well.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled the vest on, subconsciously noting how the smell from before now enveloped him entirely. It was only…a little distracting. He turned to look in his bedroom mirror and wet his lips, staring at his reflection.

“Well. That helps.” Steve murmured, twisting in the mirror. He definitely looked the part more now. The vest was absolutely littered with band junk, and he prayed that no one at the bar decided to strike up a conversation or give him a pop quiz.

Not to mention the convenience of it all. He’d manage to not stick out like a sore thumb, while also bringing Eddie back his vest. Bam, two birds.

He ran over to grab his watch and wallet, eyeing the time.

“Shhit.” Steve groaned. He would likely be a couple minutes late for pickup. Which wasn’t an issue in itself, but he’d surely just won himself a ten minute scolding from a flippant fifteen-year old.

He threw on the first pair of socks and shoes he could find before bolting out his room and down the stairs, fishing his keys out the valet tray.

A couple long strides and he was yanking open his car door, shutting it just a little too firmly. “Sorry,” Steve apologized to the vehicle before starting her up, engine purring. He gave his hair one more sweep in the rearview and shifted gears, pulling out the driveway.

The red numbers on his dash clock mocked him as he drove as fast as the speed limit would allow. He was absolutely going to be late, even if he took the shortcut to Dustin’s.

A few long, anticipatory minutes later and he was there, pulling up into the Hendersons’ driveway. Steve locked eyes with Dustin sitting on the porch couch and as expected, he shot up and marched angrily over to the car. Steve sighed and braced himself for what was about to come.

Dustin flung the door open and plopped down into the seat. “Ah ah ah,” Steve warned before Dustin could slam the door. He got the memo, and closed it gently.

“Thank you,” Steve nodded.

“You’re late,” Dustin complained, tugging on his seatbelt.

“It’s been five minutes.” Steve saw the time on the dash change out of the corner of his eye. “…six minutes.”

Dustin spun to face him. “What part of 8:30, on the dot, was not clear?”

“Uh, the part where I’m taking you to this thing out of the kindness of my heart?” Steve cast him a sideways glance. “Seriously dude, have a little gratitude.”

He seemed to ease up, falling back into the seat. “Sorry. Thanks again—for doing this.”

Steve held his fist up and Dustin met him halfway with a bump. “That’s more like it.” He put the car in reverse and began to back out. “You tell your mother you’re heading out?”

Dustin nodded, grinning. “Told her I’m meeting up with some of the D&D guys.”

Steve tsked, pulling away from the house. “And now I’m an accessory to this lie. Great.”

“Not a lie,” Dustin corrected. “Eddie’s band is in Hellfire, too, remember?”

“What do you mean ‘remember’, why would I know that?” Steve retorted, making a face.

“Well, maybe if you came to a session you’d—” Dustin stopped in his tracks, and Steve looked to see him mouth agape. “What?”

“Why do you have Eddie’s vest?” Dustin asked incredulously, " Actually, scratch that, why are you wearing Eddie’s vest?”

Shhhit.

“I’m uh–” Steve stammered, shrugging his shoulders as nonchalantly as he could. “Y’know, giving it back, after the show. He lent it to me back in the Upside Down and I just…yeah, I never got it back to him. So that’s what I’m doing now.”

“Yeah but why are you wearing it?” Dustin pressed and Steve felt his ears start to prickle.

“Because, smarty-pants, if I wear it, I don’t have to carry it around all night. Okay? Is that a good enough answer for you?” He met Dustin with wide, stern eyes.

Dustin raised his hands, surrendering. Steve shook his head, cheeks notably warm. He had to be coming down with a fever or something because this was ridiculous.

A moment of silence passed before Dustin cleared his throat. “It looks cool on you.”

Steve raised a brow, turning to look at him. “...Thanks.”

He patted the kid on the shoulder and couldn’t help the smile tugging at his face, an odd sense of validation washing over him. Dustin grinned back and for the first time in the day, Steve felt like he was doing a good thing.

“Alright, Henderson,” Steve gave him one more solid pat before adjusting his grip on the wheel, flexing his hands. “Where the hell am I headed?”

Chapter Text

After about a half an hour of extremely unclear directions from Dustin, and some absolutely stellar karaoke, they finally arrived in a part of town Steve wasn’t really familiar with. Sure he’d probably passed it one or twice but as he parked on the rough gravel lot, he felt that anxious prickle start to build up again.

“This is it..?” Steve asked cautiously, glancing out the window. The building they’d pulled up to, objectively, looked like shit. He wasn’t expecting a red carpet or a valet or anything like that but the place looked pretty damn beat.

Dustin hummed and nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Eddie said just look for the building with the bricked-up windows and penises spray painted on the walls.”

“Great,” Steve said wryly, following suit. “That’s…reassuring.”

They stepped out onto the street and locked eyes, Steve giving Dustin a warning glance. “You better not leave my sight the entire time we’re in here, Henderson. Capiche?”

Dustin gave him a sarcastic two-fingered salute, smiling. “Aye-aye, captain.”

Steve shook his head and sighed, taking the first steps towards the entrance. He opened the door and was immediately hit with the smell of skunk and cheap beer.

The interior was just as, if not more drab than the outside, atmosphere about as lively as dripping molasses. Dim red and blue lights danced along the carpeted floor and Steve thought he could faintly hear the Dirty Dancing soundtrack playing on the overhead speakers.

An American flag hung on the wall right above a vintage pin-up poster of a blonde woman lying seductively on a Cadillac, and Steve couldn’t help but look a little. A worn billiards table sat in the corner of the room and countless gig flyers, old and new, peeled off the brick walls. A small Corroded Coffin flyer peeked out just from underneath another local band’s.

The place wasn’t super packed, but it also wasn’t as empty as Steve would’ve liked. The chances of him being recognized here were low, yes, but definitely not zero.

“Ay! You two! Cap and Mullet!” Someone hollered in their direction as they started to walk further inside, way too loudly for the size of the place. Steve and Dustin both swiveled toward the sound, startled.

A small but stout woman was staring at them. barely tall enough to reach the bar counter she stood behind. Her hair was all crimped and teased out, dyed a deep, unnatural red that looked like it wasn’t coming out any time soon.

She curled her finger, beckoning them over. Steve winced. So much for not sticking out.

The woman looked them up and down as they approached, a squint to her eyes. “Don’t think I’ve seen you two ‘round here. I know my regulars.”

She glanced over at Dustin, long nails tapping the countertop. “‘Specially you, youngin.” She had a thick, Appalachian drawl and smelled like tobacco, bright green gum smacking between her teeth. “You don’t look a day over twelve. And I would know, I’m very good with my ages.”

Dustin’s face scrunched, both confused and visibly offended. “I’m not twelve, I’m—” he started before Steve stepped in, cutting him off before he got them both kicked out or beaten up.

“—Underage. He’s not drinking,” Steve interrupted, chuckling nervously. “Well, I guess I’m not either seeing as I’m—driving.”

He cringed to himself. Any charm he would’ve had in this situation was immediately diminished by how completely out of his element he was. Maybe he should’ve let Dustin lead after all. “Uh, we’re here to see...Eddie Munson? He—performs here?” he said instead, shooting a thumb at the flyer wall.

A part of him hesitated to say Eddie’s name aloud. Even though all the charges were dropped and cleared months ago, this town is anything if not incredibly superstitious, and this woman certainly looked like the type.

The lady’s eyes narrowed even more, before lighting up, any intimidating energy about her instantly melting away. “Oh! You boys must be who Junior’s always yabberin’ about!”

Steve blinked, thrown way off-kilter. “Junior?”

She pointed a thick finger at them, swirling it around. “Puppy-like look about ye’, curls, baseball cap. Dustin, right?”

Dustin’s eyes widened. “How’d you—”

“And you,” She turned to look at Steve, a sly grin spreading across her red lips. “Can’t imagine any other boy fittin’ your description, Steve.”

Steve spluttered and opened his mouth to ask one of the many questions he had, like ‘What description?’ and ‘Who’s Junior?’ and ‘Who are you?’ but the lady answered the latter almost immediately.

“Name’s Bev. Owner.” The woman stuck her hand out and grabbed Steve’s before he could even meet her halfway, nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process.

“Uh—nice to meet you?” Steve replied, although it came out like a question. And speaking of questions—

“Um. Sorry, who’s…Junior?” he asked warily. “I’m not sure we’ve met..”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Bev waved her hand dismissively. “Junior’s just a lil’ nickname I’ve given Eddie over the years. He hates it but I just can’t help m’self.”

Steve smirked at the thought, because of course Eddie would hate being called Junior of all things. His smile faded, an odd feeling swooping through his chest.

Eddie described him? To Bev? “Wait—”

“Oh! Speaking of Ed,” Bev cut him off loudly, voice booming and Steve was unsure if she even heard him. “You two are just in time. I believe they’ll be settin’ up any minute now.”

Bev shook her head, a reminiscent look crossing her face. “Those boys have been playin’ here for ‘bout two-three years now. Their stuff’s a bit…crass for my taste, but I’d be lying my ass off if I said I didn’t miss ‘em these past couple months.”

She frowned, voice lowering for the first time since they’d spoken to her. “All the rumors had me worryin’ myself sick, so it’s good to see him back.”

“Yeah…” Steve said, and found that he meant it.

Bev’s expression flipped immediately, smile brightening and volume raising once more. “Ope, but there I go runnin’ my maw. In the meantime, can I get ya anything? Pop? Water?”

Steve opened his mouth to decline but Dustin piped up, grinning. “Do you have Coke?”

Steve gave him a look as Bev handed him a glass of off-brand Cola, bottle cap already popped. Dustin met his eyes and shrugged, taking a swig. Steve rolled his eyes, but grumbled, pulling out his wallet. “How much?” he asked exasperatedly.

“Twenty-five,” Bev answered and Steve pulled out a quarter, dropping it in her open palm.

“And?” She propped her chin in her hand. “Anything for you, handsome?”

“Just a water’s fine,” he responded, noting the dryness of his mouth.

Bev handed him a cool plastic cup filled with water and smiled. “Water’s free.”

Well, he sure hoped so otherwise he’d be pretty damn pissed.

“If you boys need anything, I’ll be over here, alright? Jus’ let me know,” she winked before going off to chat with another guest.

“She seems nice!” Dustin chimed, sitting down and drinking his soda.

Steve turned to him slowly, unamused. “...You really need to start bringing your own cash when I take you places.”

Dustin only blinked at him, taking another long sip. Steve shook his head in disbelief, sitting on the stool in front of him and focusing his attention elsewhere. He gazed around the room at the surrounding customers, doing a bit of casual people-watching to pass the time.

He noted a large man with a potbelly and a handlebar mustache, some dude with a choppy fringe, and an older gentleman who looked like he needed to be cut off very soon.

He looked to the other side of the bar to see someone seated a stool away, staring at him; a 20-something-year-old guy with a sandy-blonde mullet smoking a cigarette. His arms were tanned and freckled, lats showcased by a small muscle tee. A few rings sat on his fingers and a single hoop earring dangled from his right ear, so thin he almost couldn’t see it.

Steve quickly averted his gaze and took a sip of his drink, trying to appear as uninterested in his business as possible. He eventually glanced back and the man was still staring, now squinting. Steve’s eyes shut, praying he didn’t recognize him. Please don’t be Class of 1985. Or ‘84. Or ‘83. Or—

Steve opened his eyes and nodded at him in acknowledgement, hoping that would be enough to cut the tension.

The dude nodded back, mouth twitching up. “Munson give you that?”

Steve choked on his water, clearing his throat. “Huh?”

The man nodded again, this time toward his vest. “That’s Munson’s vest. And you’re not Munson.”

Steve huffed a laugh, running his hand through his hair. “Oh, uh. Yeah. Guess you could say that.”

The guy seemed to study him for a while, before smirking, blowing out a large puff of smoke. “Mh. Good for him.”

Steve’s brow furrowed and he blinked. “Sorry, what?”

Conveniently, the man decided he was done talking, because he immediately went quiet, going back to smoking in silence.

Steve’s gaze lingered, but he decided not to press it. The dude was a complete stranger and much larger than him, and the last thing he needed was to accidentally start something in a bar this far from the station, especially with Dustin here.

He went back to surveying the venue and checked his watch, growing increasingly restless. His eyes drifted to the stage and almost right on cue, a small group of guys holding guitars and other various instruments walked out from a backroom and began setting up on a small stage. Steve perked up in his seat, eyes immediately darting.

He squinted, trying to get a clearer look without getting too close. He apparently went to school with these guys, they would absolutely know who he was if he went up there. So he observed from a distance, discreetly eyeing the members of the band.

He knew their faces, but couldn’t put a name to them if you asked him to. They were a part of Eddie’s personal clique, always sitting at their designated table in the cafeteria every single day.

As loud and commanding as Eddie’s…everything was, these guys certainly fell into the background. But Steve still noticed their presence, even if most of his attention was on Eddie back then. Then again, it was pretty damn difficult for it to not be.

Steve furrowed his brow. They all had on Corroded Coffin tees so there was no mistake there, but where the hell was—

The thought was interrupted as Steve’s eyes locked onto something he hadn’t yet seen tonight.

A girl. A really pretty girl.

At least, from what he could tell. The lights were still dim as shit and it wasn’t helping his already shit eyesight, but Steve Harrington knew a babe whenever he saw one.

She seemed to be a part of the band, back turned and setting up alongside the other boys. She had long, dark, brunette curls, kinda like Nancy’s, tied up in a loose bun at the back of her head.

He certainly had a type, that was for sure.

For a chick she seemed pretty tall, but that had never been a problem, he’d dated plenty of taller girls. Her tee was cropped enough that Steve could see a pale sliver of skin peek out every time she moved. Tight leather pants clung to her thighs and Steve couldn’t do much but ogle as she bent over, plugging in amps and other probably very important things.

Was it a bit perverted? Yes, admittedly. But hey, appreciation is appreciation.

A black handkerchief dangled out her back pocket and it gave Steve some pause. Because it looked exactly like Eddie’s.

Something in Steve’s chest sank and suddenly it made sense. Eddie had a girlfriend.

Or, less weird way of phrasing that, the chick had a boyfriend. Eddie, to be exact. He couldn’t think of any other reason they’d have matching bandanas. It wasn’t surprising, she seemed just his type. And yet disappointment sat heavy in his throat, which was strange, considering he hadn’t even spoken to the girl.

He took another sip of water, washing the odd feeling down. Plenty of fish.

“Hey Henderson, looks like they’re—” Steve turned and found he was talking to a completely empty stool, Dustin nowhere to be found.

“Dustin?” Steve called out, head whipping around. Again, not in sight.

He stood up as the lights began to go off entirely, setting the scene for the performance that would be commencing any moment. “Shhhit, shit.”

Steve fidgeted his hands, panicking only just a bit. Dustin couldn’t be far, that he knew. There wasn’t any way he was missing the show.

Then again he could’ve gone to the bathroom. Or been abducted. Or—

The panning spotlight bounced off a multi-colored cap amongst the crowd and Steve immediately groaned in relief, marching over towards the corner of the room where Dustin was tucked into.

“Sorry—sorry. ‘Scuse me—”, he muttered apologetically, squeezing through a group of teenagers passing joints. They eyed him rudely as he walked by, but eventually resumed their sesh.

Steve finally caught up to Dustin and smacked the bill of his hat down.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, though it 100% didn’t hurt in the slightest.

“The hell did I say, man?” Steve scolded through his teeth, arms falling to his sides. “I give you one rule. One!”

Dustin fixed his cap, giving Steve a dirty look. “It’s fine, Steve, jeez. I was just tossing my glass and saving us a spot near the stage.”

Steve turned up his palms. “I don’t care what you were doing, you should’ve let me know before you—”

Dustin’s gaze shifted to the stage and he held a finger up to Steve’s lips. “Shh-shh-sh, shut up, shut up, it’s starting!”

Steve stared at him incredulously, not giving a flying shit about what was happening on-stage right now but before he could chew him out even more, a loud chord vibrated throughout the room and he couldn’t help but look to the source.

None of the weird encounters he’d had tonight could’ve prepared him for what he saw.

Hair tied back in a loose bun, Corroded Coffin shirt fitted and cropped at the hem, and sporting the tightest leather pants he'd ever seen in his life—was Eddie mother-fucking Munson, standing front and center on the shoddy wooden stage in front of him.

Steve’s jaw dropped, face paling with realization by the second.

It wasn’t some girl’s ass he was ogling.

It was Eddie. He was checking out Eddie's ass.

Then he flushed, heat searing down to his toes. He was checking out Eddie's ass.

Fuck.

Dustin stuck his fingers in his mouth, whistling sharply, and Steve gave his shoulder a panicked flick, ignoring the boy’s protest. Eddie’s head snapped toward the sound and he immediately broke into a wide grin, giving Dustin a salute. Dustin waved back eagerly, beaming.

Eddie then met Steve’s gaze and went rigid, eyes wide as saucers as if he just noticed he was standing there. His gaze flitted frantically across Steve’s entire body, face morphing through a multitude of unreadable expressions at once before settling on a subtle, coy smirk.

Steve watched in abject horror as Eddie lifted an arm, the motion tugging the fabric of his already cropped shirt up, up, up, until Steve could see the light dusting of his happy trail.

His nearly-empty plastic cup crunched in his fingers, pulse thudding in his palms.

Eddie pulled at his bun until it came loose, dark curls falling around his face and eyes. He flexed his hands and the hair tie slid onto his wrist effortlessly.

Eddie tapped the mic with his fingers, clearing his throat. They were long and slender, length accentuated by the silver rings resting on his knuckles. His nails were painted. Steve swallowed.

“Uh, hey,” he started, voice blown out by the mic and Steve wasn’t sure if he was imagining the waver in his voice. “We are Corroded Coffin. Sure you’ve seen us…”

Someone coughed in the back of the bar, but otherwise-silence.

“...Riiight. Thank you, Sammy.” Eddie drawled out sardonically, pointing into the crowd. “Anyways we uh, got a few covers for you this fine evening, as well as something new, so. Yeah, hope you’ll stick around.”

Eddie glanced over at Steve again and winked, smiling. Steve’s gaze dropped down into his cup, stomach turning.

Did that guy from earlier fucking roofie his shit? His heart pounded feverishly against his ribcage, head spinning. He definitely felt drugged. He tossed the cup in a nearby trash can, eyes snapping back to Eddie.

Eddie inhaled sharply into the mic before his hand became a blur, strumming the melody to a song Steve didn’t recognize. The noise blared through the speakers, heavy drums pounding in the back and shaking Steve’s bones. Eddie seemed to notice him staring and preened at the attention, biting back a grin and averting his gaze.

Steve wanted to enjoy the music. Really he did, even if it wasn’t his style. But he found the only thing on his mind was the way Eddie looked at him. Like he was the only person in the damn room.

He couldn’t dwell on it for too long, even if he wanted to, because Eddie began to sing. And no one told him that Eddie Munson—Hawkins’ alleged resident devil worshiper—had the voice of an angel.

Perhaps more a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.

Steve gawked as Eddie pressed close to the mic, voice coming out high and throaty. The drums and guitar punctuated the lyrics flowing from his lips, foot tapping in rhythm. Dustin seemed to recognize the song and nodded aggressively to the loud beat.

“Holy shit, Eddie’s got pipes!” He thinks he hears him say, but the music was too loud and so was the sound of blood pumping in his eardrums.

Eddie and Co. played a few more songs that were unfamiliar, but at this point the genre was the last thing on his mind. Eddie kept sparing glances at him during the course of the performance, and every single one sent a jolt to his core.

Steve’s cheeks hadn’t cooled down since they started playing either. If anything he was more flushed than earlier, and getting more and more convinced someone slipped something in his drink.

He looked around to see how the rest of the bar was reacting, only to be met with almost complete and total uninterest. Some had even left, as there were noticeably fewer people than before. He blinked in disbelief, turning back to the stage to see Eddie once again, staring.

This time he whipped his head away, like he’d been caught in the act of doing something. The third song ended and Dustin whooped, clapping loudly.

Eddie grinned and pointed in their direction. “See people? That’s the energy I’m looking for here.”

Some hesitant claps rippled through the room after the comment. Eddie nodded sharply. “O-kay. I can work with that.”

He licked his lips, pressing in close to the mic. “We’ve got uhm—one more song for you tonight. It’s a little different, but it’s an original so—lucky yous.”

For the first time in the night Eddie seems to avoid his gaze, looking anywhere but Steve’s direction. It was enough of a disruption that he noticed, and the feeling that sunk in his chest was one he didn’t quite get.

Eddie seemed to take a steadying breath, motioning at the band to start playing. The melody that followed was a complete 180° from what they’d played earlier, leaning into more slow, power ballad-y chords.

Eddie’s voice, which had been pretty high-pitched for the majority of the show, came out low and mellow, like a balm on Steve’s flushed ears.

“The shroud of night doesn’t have much say,

In how you make me feel this way,

There’s a million things that I hold true,

And a million more that lead back to you,”

His eyes fluttered shut as he sang, and Steve took the opportunity to just look at him. His brow furrowed as emotion cracked his voice, hips moving to the rhythm. The sight sent another wave of heat throughout his body and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.

“I’ve tried to run, I’ve tried to crawl,

But I cannot resist your call in this,

Macrocosmic commotion, within my heart, my fears in mo-tion.”

Eddie opened his eyes, gaze fixed on the floor. “And I wish it was real—to tell you how I feel, so,”

The melody surged along with Eddie’s voice, crackling with effort.

“Rock my world like we’re superstars, and tell me this’ll never die,

I’ll be the center of your universe, ‘cause when you’re all around me I feel alive,

Rock my world like you mean it, baby—ohh, hold me closer when I cry,

You’ll be the center of my universe, and when I’m all around you I fee-eel—”

His fingers flew across the fret expertly, shredding out a solo like his life depended on it. His tongue darted out in focus, eyes wrenched shut.

Steve had seen many sides of Eddie over the years: A young, insecure freshman, same as him but so weird, so “different” that they felt worlds apart. An boisterous, theatrical jackass, who seemed to make a brand out of his otherness. A scared boy, who wanted nothing more than to prove himself to the world.

But this? This was new.

Passion oozed from every pore in Eddie’s body, like he’d never seen from him before. Or anyone really.

Steve stared helplessly as Eddie shook his head like a dog, hair swaying in front of his eyes. When he settled down, his hair was all mussed up as he panted, sweaty and flushed like he’d—

He swallowed thickly, lips parting. Like he'd just—

The remaining onlookers applauded more enthusiastically, breaking Steve out of his spell. Steve also clapped, but he felt like his brain was on autopilot.

Eddie smiled, pushing his hair out of his face. He gave an exaggerated bow, accidentally hitting the mic stand and catching it before it fell over. “Thank you, thank you! We’ll gladly accept tips.”

When no one approached to provide such, Eddie looked over to Dustin and Steve, smile only widening. He hopped off the stage, making a beeline straight for them.

Eddie yanked the hair tie around his wrist off with his teeth, gathering his hair behind his head. His shirt lifted again, and it took Steve a Herculean amount of strength not to look. He tied his hair back lazily before charging at Dustin, hooking an arm around him.

“Henderson my man, I knew I could count on you!” Eddie pulled Dustin into a headlock-noogie combo, grinning as Dustin squirmed. The lean muscle of his arm flexed with the effort and brought attention to the tattoos scattered along his skin. A sheen of sweat coated them and Steve got the strong urge to lick.

He blinked hard and rapidly, nearly giving his face a harsh slap.

“Eddie, get off me, you’re disgusting!” Dustin laughed, wriggling out of the embrace. “You smell like wet dog.”

Eddie shrugged, putting his hands on his hips. “Such is the price to pay to rock, young Padawan.”

Dustin touched his fingers to his temples, shaking his head. “You were so cool, dude. And that last song you—you wrote that?”

Eddie seemed bashful at that, scratching his chin. “Yeahh. It’s—nothing wild but—y’know.”

“No way, dude, no way." Dustin gestured matter-of-factly. "Coolest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Honest.”

Eddie smiled fondly, patting Dustin on the shoulder. “That means a lot, little man.”

Steve hadn’t noticed how long he’d been looking at Eddie until he turned to him, eyes locking. He gulped and hoped the bob of his throat wasn’t too noticeable. Something about Eddie and eye contact, man. It was driving him nuts.

Eddie sauntered up to Steve, hands rested in his back pockets. The look on him was almost smug, but amusement shone through more than anything.

Eddie circled Steve like a shark, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit like prey. “Nice jacket, Harrington. Beautifully decorated,” he said, dragging his words out teasingly. “Mötorhead, Megadeth, Dio?” He let out a low whistle. “Perhaps I judged you too soon.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, anything even remotely intelligent, but his tongue felt like taffy in his mouth.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “…Doth the fair maiden speak?”

“I liked your song,” Steve blurted, face immediately heating.

Eddie’s eyes widened, his bravado cracking just a bit. Steve swore he saw some color dust his cheeks. Or it could’ve been the lighting. “Really? Well I, uh—‘preciate it.”

“Yeah I mean, you—you guys sounded great.” Steve shifted his weight, glanced around the room. “Really good, um. Acoustics, in here.”

Eddie barked out a laugh and Steve felt a lurch in his stomach.

“I guess I’m just surprised, is all.” Eddie shrugged, hands shifting onto his hips once again. “Wasn’t really even expecting you to be here. Clocked you as a Police kinda guy.”

Steve grinned, wetting his lips. “Yeah well, you know how Henderson is.”

“Persistent.” They said at the same time, chuckling, and Steve was astonished by just how normal he was being in this moment.

“You do know that I’m right here, right?” Dustin interrupted, staring at them indignantly. “Y'know talking about someone in front of them is seriously considered really ru—”

Eddie pushed the bill of his cap down. “Shhh-shh. Sh. The adults are talking.”

“Uhh, Dustin, why don’t you go wait in the car, alright?” Steve suggested and tossed his keys at Dustin’s chest, his hands flying up to catch them. “I don’t want you hanging around this place any longer than you have to.”

“Wh—” Dustin looked to Eddie for help, only for him to shrug. “Stevie’s the boss tonight, Henderson. Within his realm, my word holds little power.”

Dustin made a sound of protest before deflating. “Fine,” he eventually mumbled. “See ya later, Eddie.”

Eddie held out his hand and Dustin met him with an unnecessarily complex secret handshake. “Adios, Hendrix. Still on for Friday’s session?”

Dustin nodded, grinning. “You know it.”

He pointed to Steve sternly. “Hurry up. If I get in trouble because of you—“

“Oh, cool it, it’ll only take a minute,” Steve replied, waving him off.

Dustin gave one more stab of his finger before stomping towards the door, pushing it open. Steve watched as Bev wiggled her fingers goodbye, before looking in their direction. She smiled before averting her gaze, instantly busying herself with some dirty glasses.

Steve found it odd, but let it go, turning his attention back to Eddie. “Thanks. He never listens to me that fast.”

“You two bicker like brothers.” Eddie chuckled, tilting his head. “It’s cute.”

Something about the word “cute” coming out of Eddie's mouth in reference to him had his stomach doing corkscrews. “Yeah, well.” Steve nodded, observing the floor. “That’s what 3 years joined at the hip’ll do to you.”

There was something fond in Eddie’s expression, lips pulled tight in an almost proud smile. “You’re a good influence on him, Harrington. Seriously. Keeping the kid out of trouble, bringing balance and order to his impressionable, young mind, being by his side even during—everything…”

Eddie’s brows furrowed earnestly. “I respect it.”

Steve blinked. He—never really thought of it like that. Sure, he'd been called numerous titles of guardianship: babysitter, Dad, Mom, brother, but never a straight-up good influence.

It felt different, coming from Eddie—good. He really seemed to have a way of making words stick, feel like they meant something.

“Thanks...” he replied, cheeks warming.

Eddie’s eyes kept slipping down, Steve noticed, to his vest. Eddie’s vest.

“Shit.” Steve muttered. He’d forgotten the entire reason he’d hung back in the first place. “You uh, probably want this back, huh?” Steve moved to take it off. “Sorry I kept it so long, it completely slipped my mind to—”

“No no, it’s—” Eddie held out his hands, stopping him. He grabbed the lapels of his vest and tugged them gently back into place. He smelled like sweat and Old Spice. Steve felt like he was going to be sick. Or pass out. Or both.

“Keep it. Suits you.” Eddie said softly, eyes sincere. Definitely both.

“I—” Steve hesitated, trying to shake off his sudden vertigo. “You think?”

Eddie averted his gaze, a smile pulling the corners of his mouth. He looked up again with a glint that wasn’t there before. “You fishing for compliments, Harrington?”

“No I just—” Steve shook his head, flush creeping up his face. "I can keep it?”

Eddie nodded, shrugging a shoulder indifferently. “I’ve got more. Think of it as a—souvenir. From moi à toi.”

He seemed to chuckle to just himself. “Just—at least try to listen to some Dio, ‘kay? Last thing we want is you looking like a poser. Right Steve?”

Steve only nodded, swallowing the dryness from his mouth. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, man. Seriously.”

Eddie shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. Besides, if I ever want it back—” He leaned in, dark eyes gleaming in the low light. “I know where to look.”

Steve blinked again, another weird twist in his gut. Yeah, it was time to go.

“Right,” he cleared his throat. “Anyways, I should probably uh—get going. Gotta, y’know, get the kiddo home and all.” What the hell was he saying?

Eddie jerked his head, the curls that framed his face swinging with the movement. “No, yeah, I get it. Curfews, amiright?” he joked.

Steve laughed. It wasn’t funny. Why was he laughing.

“Yeah. But um—” He stalled a bit, trying to find something better to say. “Yeah. See ya around, man.”

Eddie’s smile fell a little, softening. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Hey and uh—Steve?” Eddie stopped him with a palm on his shoulder as he started to leave, and it took everything in him to fight the full-body shudder that threatened to run down his spine.

“I wasn’t kidding about the vest. Denim’s a good look on you.”

Steve felt like his stomach just fell through his ass and into his knees and the room was definitely starting to feel a bit too warm. Maybe that guy did roofie his water.

"...Yeah," Steve uttered out before pushing past Eddie, sparing Bev a wave and shoving the doors open.

He dropped into the car seat and was immediately thrown his keys. Steve held out a hand, nearly missing the catch.

“That was longer than a minute, dude.” Dustin scowled. “Why do I sometimes feel like I’m the one babysitting you?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replied absentmindedly, inserting the key in the ignition.

Dustin stared at him while he checked his blind spots. “…you good?”

Steve swiveled to look at him, mustering up the face of someone who was one hundred and ten percent ‘good’. “…Yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? Just ready to call it a night.”

Dustin only shrugged and yawned, seemingly letting it go. He must’ve been tired because not once did he mention the fact that Steve was still, in fact, wearing the vest he fully intended to return tonight.

He knocked his head back into the car seat and exhaled softly before buckling up and pulling away from the curb, heart pounding in his throat.

The ride to Dustin’s was miraculously silent, the boy dozing off before they even got to the square. They eventually pulled up on Cornwallis and Steve gently patted Dustin awake. He lifted his head, hat crooked from being pressed against the glass.

“Time to go, man.” Steve said quietly, nudging Dustin’s arm. Dustin rubbed at his eyes and yawned, stepping out the car. He turned around, motioning for Steve to roll the windows. He obliged, tilting his head curiously.

“Night, Steve,” Dustin mumbled sleepily. “Thanks a lot.”

Steve smiled wordlessly, giving him a brief nod. “Night, Henderson.”

He watched as Dustin entered the house, before slumping into the seat, eyes screwed shut. He knocked his forehead into the steering wheel, shuddering out a breath as the night slowly caught up with him.

The drive home was a blur, and before Steve knew it he was inside, stalking up the stairs and into his room. Exhaustion weighed on his body but his mind raced restlessly. He toed off his shoes and socks, undressing slowly until he was left in nothing but his briefs.

Steve flopped into bed, eyes falling shut. Fragments of the night flashed behind his eyelids and he stirred, brow furrowing. Glaring red lights, brick walls, a sexy pin-up poster.

Steve blinked his eyes open. Yeah. Yeah, that might help.

He skirted a hand down his stomach, breath hitching as he palmed himself to find he was already chubbed up.

He rolled his hips, thinking about the woman on the poster. Tan lines, curvy waist, brown curls…

Steve shook his head. No, no, blonde. It was blonde curls.

His hand began to move on its own, slipping beneath his underwear and slowly stroking in earnest.

Brown—blonde curls, bright, dimpled smile, light stubble—

Steve moaned lowly, hips twitching into the sensation.

Low bun, locks framing his dark, attentive eyes. His pants. His fucking pants.

The slide of his dick grew slicker as he gasped, chest heaving. He bit his lip to muffle the whine climbing his throat, hand flying. His gaze drifted to the vest, tossed haphazardly on the foot of his bed. He imagined the smell, how Eddie smelled, all boyish and earthy like tobacco.

And God. The way he looked after performing. Face red and glistening with sweat, hair wild and tousled. The thought from before completed itself all on its own. Eddie looked fucked out.

Steve’s orgasm crashed into him before he could even properly groan, the noise getting stuck in his throat and petering out. He worked himself through the waves, arching into his bed with the force of it.

Eventually, everything subsided and Steve went boneless into his comforter, eyes bulging. His stomach turned violently and he really, really, did feel like throwing up this time.

He sat up in bed and hurriedly rushed to the bathroom, face blanching. He wiped the cum from his stomach and fingers and sat at the toilet bowl, lungs constricting.

About a minute passed, and nothing came up. Steve shut the lid and folded his arms atop it, dropping his head between them. He closed his eyes and inhaled shakily, eyes prickling.

“What the fuck,” he whispered, and even then it was still too loud.

Chapter Text

Steve pulled up to the Family Video the next day feeling a complete and utter wreck. Running on 3 hours of sleep, which was a generous guesstimate, over-the-counter headache meds, and a large cup of coffee, he stared at his bloodshot eyes in the rearview mirror before stepping out of the car.

A part of him really wanted to call in sick, but he was already on not-great terms with Keith and didn’t want to push it.

He opened the door to see that he was the first one there, which—weird. Robin lived down the street and pedaled to work every day, she should be here by now.

He didn’t think much of it, opting to distract himself with work instead. He reshelved some of the returns, wiped down the counters, even vacuumed for crying out loud. Anything to keep him from thinking about the night before.

Of course, his mind started to wander anyway. Steve hadn’t really allowed himself to process anything from yesterday, because that would mean he’d have to ask himself the questions that have been spiraling in his head ever since.

Like “what the fuck?”, and “Is he fucking into Eddie?”, and “Is he fucking gay??”

That last one really threw him for a loop, because no. Of course he wasn’t.

Women were hot. Boobies were hot. Steve Harrington, local ladykiller, that’s like, his whole fucking brand.

And Nancy—Nancy was the love of his life at the time. That was real, and he didn’t doubt that for a second.

But the way he felt last night? That wasn’t some—fluke either. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d been sorely turned on that entire performance.

And then the chat after, the banter, the praise, the vest? All a bunch of extra nails in the already lowering coffin.

And it was killing him because of all people, why did it have to be Eddie?

Eddie was loud, Eddie was crude, he was unabashedly, unapologetically, himself. He was everything Hawkins tried to stamp out of you.

But Eddie was also kind, compassionate, unabashedly, unapologetically, himself. The part that Hawkins never cared to see. The part he never cared to see, until now.

Steve sunk into his hands, elbows atop the counter. What the fuck, indeed.

The sound of wheels on asphalt made Steve look up. He blinked slowly.

Now he really must be losing it because there was no way he was seeing Robin hurriedly hopping out of the Wheelers’ beat-up Wagon, with Nancy in the driver’s seat.

Steve stared as Robin waved graciously to Nancy, saying something he couldn’t hear from inside. Nancy replied, smiling, only to look up and meet his curious gaze.

She seemed to fluster, mouth falling open before giving him a nod, a small smile pulled tight across her lips. Steve barely raised his hand to wave before she quickly drove off, leaving him baffled.

Robin flung the front door open, seemingly out of breath. “Hohhh, my god, I am so sorry. Nancy’s alarm wasn’t set right so we slept in and–”

“You slept over at Nance’s?” Steve interrupted, raising a brow.

Robin’s face went pink and she stammered. “Well. I—y’know we—”

She stopped for a moment and squinted, finally getting a good look at him.

“Jesus. You look terrible.” She blurted. “No offense, but like, you look—deflated. Even your hair looks exhausted.”

Steve groaned, sinking back into the countertop, arms folded. He knew she was changing the subject, but he didn’t have the energy to banter with her, or press any further about her little Nancy sleepover. “Yep.”

“Awww, poor Steve,” she cooed with faux sympathy. “Concert tucker you out that much?”

“Mhh,” he hummed noncommittally.

“Did’ja at least give Eddie that kiss for me?” Robin said, smirk lacing her tone.

Steve jolted up at that, eyes going wide. Robin’s eyebrows shot up and Steve immediately felt his face heat, processing the overreaction.

She looked at him weird, hands going up defensively. “Okay, Mr. Jumpy. It was a joke.”

Steve pushed himself up, kneading his eyes with his fingers. His face still burned and he sighed, gaze locked onto the counter. “Sorry.”

Robin chuckled uncomfortably before taking another look at him, brow furrowing. “You okay?”

“M’fine.” He mumbled, fumbling with the pens in the cupholder.

Robin rolled her eyes, giving him a look. “Steve please, I know you, I can tell when you’re not fine.”

Her brow furrowed, the concern on her face more than evident. “Did—something like, happen? At the concert?”

“No, I–” Steve sighed, scratching at his neck. Obviously he didn’t want Robin seriously worrying, especially over something this—stupid. “It’s—”

Steve blinked. What was he thinking? This is Robin. She was probably the best person he knew to talk about any of this. Probably the only person.

But then again, it was different for her. What if she thought he was weird? Or gross? Or—

“Can I ask you something? Personal?” Steve stammered before he could chicken himself out.

“Yeah. ‘Course you can,” Robin nodded, and he hated how much he’d worried her to the point where she couldn’t even make one of her snarky comebacks. “Do your worst.”

Steve exhaled an unsteady breath. “…how did you—find out? That you were gay?”

She froze, blinking. “Steve—”

“Robin please just answer,” he said, an incriminating crack in his voice. “Please.”

Robin opened her mouth to speak, only to bite her tongue apprehensively.

She smiled. “Sandy Olsson in Grease. I was obsessed with that movie as a kid. I must’ve watched it about 10 times just to see Olivia Newton-John sing ‘You’re the One That I Want’ in those tight leather leggings.” Robin’s words uprooted the memory of Eddie in those sinfully snug leather pants and he prayed the flush climbing his face was anything but visible.

“Not sure if that’s when I knew knew, but…pretty sure that's where it all started.” she chuckled fondly. Robin looked at him, eyes sincerely curious. “Steve, why would you ask me that?”

Steve averted his gaze, worrying his lip between his teeth. “So you—”

He hesitated a moment, swallowing the nerves clawing at his chest. “You didn’t like…guys? Like, ever?”

Robin stared at him, face softening. “Well, let’s just say I never spared a second glance at Travolta.”

Steve swiped a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling like the confines of his ribs were too small for the way his heart was pounding. “Cool.”

The room itself was starting to feel smaller as he pressed his hands into his face. His breath came out in short, uncontrollable puffs and he sat down on the rolling stool behind him to ensure his legs didn’t give out.

“Steve? Hey, what’s going—” Robin laid her hand across his shoulder, and the feeling helped ground him, just a bit.

He kept his face buried in his palms but the tension started to leave his body as he breathed, Robin’s thumb moving in up and down in a small but comforting gesture.

She then pulled herself onto the counter, arms rested on her thighs. “Steve. You gotta tell me what’s going on.” She tilted her head to try and peer at him through his fingers. “Please?”

Steve let out a shaky sigh, face still hidden. His cheeks burned and he found he couldn’t look her in the eye.

The sooner it was out, the better he would feel, he told himself. Like…ripping off a Band-Aid.

“I… I think I’m—” He mumbled quietly, stomach roiling. Robin leaned in to hear him more clearly.

“I’m—it’s—” Steve groaned into his hands, growing increasingly frustrated at the words refusing to leave his mouth.

Robin rolled her eyes subtly, clearly trying her best to remain patient. “Steve. I can’t help you if you don’t—”

Steve’s head jolted up, cheeks flushed an atomic red. “A guy! I think I’m into a fucking guy, Robin! Happy?” His voice cracked loudly in the quiet room.

“Y—” Robin slapped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide and bulging out of her damn skull. If he wasn’t currently on the verge of a panic attack, it would’ve been hilarious.

The initial relief that came with saying what he needed to say was short-lived, as he watched Robin practically fall off the counter and sprint to the door. She locked it swiftly, before whipping back around to face Steve, walking towards him.

“—You what?” She whispered, and Steve swore he saw the corners of her mouth twitch into a grin.

“It’s not funny,” he whined, hiding his face once again. Of course she’d make fun of him, it was still Robin at the end of the day.

“No!” Robin shouted, waving her hands frantically. “I’m not laughing at you I-I’m ecstatic. A-and a little in shock, frankly? But mostly the first one.”

Steve dropped his hands into his lap, eyes starting to burn. “That makes one of us.”

Robin’s eyes darted across his face, expression shifting. “Oh shit. You’re—okay, fuck—sorry. Ina-ppropriate, Robin,” she muttered to herself, wincing.

She folded her arms over the countertop. “Just—talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind right now.” She mimed a zipper across her lips. “ I’ll shut up, I promise.”

That cracked a small smile across Steve’s face, which Robin mirrored. “I–” he exhaled, tossing a hand up weakly. “I don’t know what’s going on. I thought I…I am—straight.”

“But,” Steve dragged a palm across his warm cheeks. “Last night. I…talked to…someone. At the bar?”

Omitting any details was likely best for now, by the look on Robin’s face she was one familiar name away from completely losing her shit. Instead she nodded quietly, urging him to continue. “And it was…I-I don’t know how to explain it. I haven’t felt that—that weird around anyone in a long ass time. It wasn't until I got home that I…y’know—”

Came so hard to the mere thought of Eddie Munson that I saw stars. His face flushed. “- put the pieces together.”

Robin narrowed her eyes at him, chewing at her lip. She hummed thoughtfully. “What?” Steve said exasperatedly. “What’s that face?”

“You—okay.” Robin clasped her hands together, index fingers pressed against her mouth. “You still like women, correct? Boobs still—doin’ it for you?”

Steve shook his head, grimacing at her phrasing. “I—sure.”

“I need a definitive ‘yes’, Steven.” Robin said sternly.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“And you’re sure you’re into this guy?” Robin pointed her fingers toward him. Like, sure sure? Like not in a friend way?”

“Pret-ty sure, Rob,” Steve answered, massaging his temple.

She squinted at him. “…like on a scale of one to sure—“

“Robin,” Steve interrupted, pinching his nose bridge. “Trust me? You don’t wanna know.”

Robin stared at him blankly for a second, before her face twisted with realization. “Oh gross, Steve, I don’t want to hear about that!”

He held his hands out in exasperation. “You asked!”

“Well yeah, because I didn't think you would’ve jumped straight to—” Robin made the lewd gesture with her hand and Steve flushed.

“Is there a point you’re trying to make here?” Steve groaned, hiding his blush behind his hand.

“My point—is that I’m pretty sure that makes you not straight, Steve.” Robin huffed, grinning.

She shook her head lightly. “I’m not gonna like, label anything for you, unless that’s something you want. But liking men and women is an option, y’know? You don’t have to just be into one or the other.”

“That—” Steve lowered his hand, eyes widening slightly. “Really?” Robin only nodded, lips pressed into a smile.

Steve stared at her for a moment, mulling her words over. “What would that…if I did wanna y’know, put a—a label on it…what would that be?”

She gave him a look and shrugged. “Bisexual, probably?”

Steve blinked reluctantly, eyes still round. “...Okay. Do—you know anyone else who’s…”

Bi-sexual. He rolled the word around in his mind. It felt too new, too real, at least in the moment. “That?”

Robin nodded again counting on her fingers. “There’s Vickie—She used to go out with Dan before we dated, remember? Then there’s Elton John, though I obviously don’t know the guy personally, I wish. Pretty sure Bowie bi. Is—is he?” She muttered half to herself. “I honestly can’t remember.”

She gasped loudly. “Speaking of Bowie—Steve. We have to see Labyrinth when that’s out, I have been waiting ever since I saw the promos and it looks absolutely—”

He made a face and Robin trailed off, grimacing. “—off-topic. Sorry. Off-topic?”

Steve let out an amused huff, feeling the fog in his head start to dissipate for the first time in the day. “Off-topic.”

Robin waved her hands dismissively. “Anyways—all that being said,”

She locked eyes with him, a sudden seriousness coming over her. “Don’t feel like you have to rush through understanding how you feel. Sometimes—just…feeling it is enough. And don’t feel like you have to figure that out on your own either. I’m right here, y’know?”

A lump formed unexpectedly in Steve’s throat and he looked down into his lap, blinking away the sting in his eyes. Leave it to Robin to go from rambling on about Bowie to making him emotional all in the same breath.

“That’s uh—a lot of ‘feels.’” Steve joked, swallowing around the sappy feeling sticking in his chest.

Robin gave his arm a solid punch, making him huff out an exaggerated ‘ow’. “Shut up. I was trying to be poetic.”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his bicep. “No no, that was very profound.”

He averted his gaze briefly before meeting her eyes again. “But uh, seriously Rob. Thanks. I’ve kinda felt like I was—dying for the past 8 hours, so—thanks for making me feel…less like that.”

Robin’s lips curved into a pout, immediately looking like she was seconds away from bursting into tears. “Steeeevuh—” she cooed dramatically, laying the side of her head on his shoulder.

Steve rolled his eyes and patted her hair with his free arm. “Yeah yeah, that’s all the mush you’re getting from me. Now get off before you get snot all over my uniform.

Robin sniffled theatrically and fake-wiped her nose with the back of her hand before dragging it down his vest. He nudged her off playfully, snorting out a laugh. “You’re disgusting.”

She cheesed at him, eyes gleaming. “Love you too, dingus.”

The sentimental moment seemed to have passed, so Steve went back to what he was doing before she came in, which was skimming through names in the system for overdue rentals.

“God,” Steve saw Robin shake her head out of the corner of his eye. “I cannot believe you had an entire, full-blown homosexual crisis and immediately—”

“Robin—” Steve raised his voice, cutting her off. Another furious flush filled his cheeks and he sighed.

He was going to regret telling her so badly.

“Fineee!” Robin raised her hands in mock surrender, still grinning cheekily. “Changing the topic.”

“Thank you,” Steve exhaled, immediately turning back to the monitor.

There was only a moment of blissful silence before Robin flopped beside him, elbows propped against the counter. “Sooooo…..who is it?” she asked in a sing-songy voice.

“That’s not a topic change,” he sang back, eyes trained intensely on the screen as he clicked away at the mouse.

“Well I’m certain neither one of us wants to keep discussing you ‘jerking off’,” she mouthed. “So yeah, kinda is.”

Steve’s eyebrows twitched up in reluctant agreement. His eyes glossed over columns of names until his heart jumped into his throat, one name immediately grabbing his attention. He hovered the cursor over Eddie’s name and his stomach flipped obnoxiously, scrolling by quickly.

“Is it someone I know? Is he from school? What’s he like?” Robin rambled, shooting off rapid fire questions.

Steve groaned, hand pressed into his temple. “…yes, yes—no comment.”

Robin lit up, leaning forward. “Wait actually? Holy shit I was just spitballing.”

“And that is all you’re getting until further notice, okay?” Steve glanced up at her just in time to see her scrunch her face up, eyes narrowed.

“Fine. Keep your secrets, Steven.” Robin shrugged, standing back up. “I’ll find out eventually.”

Steve snorted, lolling his head towards her. He gave her a look, before his eyes drifted past Robin, and to the dreadfully familiar figure looming outside, hands cupped around his eyes and pressed against the glass door. Steve’s blood went cold in his veins.

“Fuck,” he blurted under his breath, but not quiet enough for Robin to not give him a weird look. She squinted, turning to see what he was gawking at. Eddie wiggled his fingers at them, before making a point to jostle the door handle, tossing his hands up in a confused shrug.

“Shhhit—sorry Eddie!” Robin called out, jogging over to the door and letting him in. He placed a hand on his heart, smirking and batting his eyelashes. “Buckley. My heroine.” She rolled her wrist theatrically in return, curtsying.

Eddie’s gaze flickered over to Steve and his face softened, a mischievous glint in his eye. “And then there was Steve.”

Steve blinked, swallowing down the butterflies that kicked up in his stomach at the way Eddie said his name, a bit of morning gravel in his voice. He crossed his arms, nodding politely. “Eddie,” he responded, keeping his voice as level as he could manage.

He tried to maintain eye contact, he really did, but Eddie’s outfit was– wildly distracting–to say the least.

Eddie’s arms were completely exposed, sleeves rolled up to the tops of his shoulders. His top read Judas Priest in bright, bold letters, with a vibrant design printed on the front. Dark tattoos popped against his pale skin, slightly red and freckled from the summer heat. Sweat shined around his neck where his hair pooled, dripping slowly into his collarbone. A red plaid flannel cinched his waist, accentuating the leanness of his hips. An assortment of rings sat loose on his fingers, showcasing how thin they were.

Steve’s eyes jumped back up, gaze wandering a bit too low for his liking. Heat stirred in his gut as Eddie took a few steps forward, leaning his weight onto the countertop. He seemed oblivious to the fact that Steve just eyed him up like a nice Caddy, an almost shy expression crossing his face.

“Sooo uh—Harrington.” Eddie started, rocking back on his heels. “Sorry to corner you in your…place of employment, but I ah—had a question. An inquiry of sorts. For the both of you, I guess.”

Steve glanced over at Robin, who was eyeing him more like an owl, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“I um—” Eddie continued, rubbing a curly tuft of hair between his fingertips. “You left pretty fast yesterday so I didn’t get the chance to ask but. Did you maybe–wanna hang?”

Steve’s brows shot up, blinking. “Hang?”

“Yeah, like, hang out.” Eddie nodded, gesturing over to Robin with his fingers still tangled up in his hair. “My uh—my band, we- usually do rehearsal on Thursdays. Play a little bit, get buzzed, smoke. Y’know, dumb shit.”

“And…you’re inviting us?” Steve asked, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up against his will.

“Yeah!” Eddie chuckled, before his face fell again. “Wh—only if you want, of course but…I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t want you there.”

Steve hiked his shoulders up to his ears, stumbling to find any valid reason to not put himself in a very awkward situation. “I mean—what about your bandmates? Not sure they’re too…fond of me.”

“It’ll be fine.” Eddie scoffed, pushing his body further forward. “You’ll grow on ‘em. Guess I, uh…know from personal experience.” He was now properly in Steve’s personal bubble, dark eyes wide and earnest. He smelled nice. Like aftershave and summer musk. Steve’s lips parted, mouth drying faster by the second.

A loud slapping noise made both Eddie and Steve whip their heads towards the sound, breaking the weird tension growing thick in the air of the room. Robin’s eyes flickered frantically between the two, hand pressed against her mouth in shock. Steve gave her a stern look, mouth pressed thin.

“...Something the matter, Buck?” Eddie asked, eyebrow lifting.

“Robin blinked rapidly, stammering. “Uh…uh, yes!! I—just remembered I forgot to feed my pet…fish.”

Steve suppressed the overwhelming urge to smack his forehead, while Eddie’s face brightened. “You have a fish?”

Robin nodded aggressively, eyes widening even more. “Yyyeah! Yup. Goldfish.”

“Nice,” Eddie smiled, leaning forward even further into Steve’s space. “My old man used to have goldfish. Think I could meet ‘em some time?”

She shook her head slowly, wincing. “No…no I don’t think so. You see he’s—probably dead now. Y’know, because of the lack of nutrients.” She kissed her fingers and held them up. “Rest in peace, Bubbles.”

Eddie gave her an incredulous look, mouth agape. “……Riiight.”

Robin nodded sadly, a crinkle in her brow. “Yeah…so I uh–probably won’t be able to go. Because I’ll be too busy y’know….planning the funeral.”

Eddie’s lips twitched before setting back into a sympathetic frown. “Of course. So sorry for your loss.” Steve knew that Eddie knew Robin was full of shit. He was just indulging the nonsense at this point, which of course he was.

He turned to face Steve again, holding his palm out in a stage whisper. “If she didn’t wanna come along all she had to do was say the word,” he murmured through pursed lips, just loud enough for Steve to hear. A small snort burst out of him and Eddie beamed toothily, making Steve’s heart do kickflips against his ribcage.

“Now,” Eddie’s smile remained, but it felt tight, like he was bracing for something that hadn’t happened yet. “What’s your excuse, Harrington?”

Steve wet his lips and opened his mouth, trying to think of a single reason not to hang out with Eddie Munson. To his surprise, he couldn’t find one. To an even bigger surprise– he didn’t want to.

“None,” Steve swept a hand through his hair, face warm. “No excuse. I’ll uh, I’ll be there.”

Eddie’s face relaxed immediately, before splitting into another corny grin that did concerning things to Steve’s innards. “Yes. Awesome, that’s–” he cleared his throat, nonchalantly stepping back from the counter. “Hell yeah.”

Steve’s heart practically galloped in his chest, giving Eddie a verifying nod. “Hell yeah.”

Robin then coughed loudly, and Steve just barely hid the way his eyes rolled. “Say—Eddie. Don’t you have like…three overdue rentals…maybe four–”

Eddie winced, biting his lip. “Would you look at that time?” He blurted loudly, cutting Robin off. He backed toward the door, eyeing his watch. “D&D starts oh-so soon, and therefore I must make my hasty departure.”

Steve squinted, brow raising. “Isn’t that Friday..?” Eddie smiled, holding a finger to his lips and winking overtly. Heat crept up Steve’s neck as Eddie turned on his heel, pushing the door open. “9’o clock! Don’t be a square!” he shouted before running over to his van, an intense pep in his step.

As soon as Eddie was out of sight, Steve spun around to face Robin, whose mouth was already wide open in protest. “What the hell is wrong with you—“

“I panicked—!” She hissed, pressing her palms against her cheeks. “Great, now Eddie thinks I’m a fish murderer.”

“I can guarantee he doesn’t.” Steve whispered back loudly. “You’re a horrible liar.”

“And—and—also!” Robin jabbed her finger at him. “What the hell is wrong with me? I just watched you fucking—drool over Eddie Munson for like 5 minutes!”

Steve’s face went hot, stuttering over any retort he was about to make. “I did n—I was not drooling.”

“I can’t believe I just witnessed that with my eyeballs.” Robin dragged her fingers through her hair. “Holy shit.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing a palm down his cheeks. They prickled underneath his hand, growing hotter by the second. “...is it that obvious?” He mumbled miserably.

Robin gave him a pitying smile, which pretty much answered his question immediately. “Just to anyone with two eyes and a brain.”

She scooted closer to Steve, leaning up against the counter. “Lucky for you, I think Eddie was too busy ogling you to notice you ogling him.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that, turning away from her. “No one was ogling anyone. Eddie, he—he’s just weird like that.”

“And you llllike him for it.” Robin teased, a simpering smirk spreading across her face.

Steve blushed harder, looking anywhere but the smug look Robin was giving him. “Maybe. I-I dunno,” he grumbled, mouth tight.

“Maybe,” Robin mimicked, smile yet to fade. “What I saw did not look like a ‘Maybe’, Steve. God, I don’t think I’ve seen you that sickeningly infatuated since—well since ever.”

Steve’s chest pounded, hard enough to feel it in his ears. He cupped his face in his hands, groaning. “Fuck meeee.”

Robin snickered, patting Steve on the back. “Asking the wrong person, Steve-o–”

“Rob-in!” Steve shouted, mortified. He wasn’t sure his body could get any hotter without risk of bursting into actual flames. Robin only laughed breathlessly, nearly falling over in the process.

“I’m sor-ry!” She gasped out in between belly laughs. “I’m stop-ping, I’ll stop–”

Steve found himself chuckling too, the nature of Robin’s hysterics utterly contagious. After nearly a minute of sparse giggles, she finally calmed down, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. “Okay—I’m done,” she puffed, face pink.

Steve really tried to look annoyed, but all he could do was smile. “Got it all out your system?”

She nodded, wiping her eyes. “Alright—now. I need the context. What the hell could’ve possibly happened at that show?”

Steve sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to stall any longer. Good thing Wednesday mornings are slow. He sighed, before craning his neck to look up at the ceiling. “...I’ll tell you one thing. It started with his stupid fucking vest.”