Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The last of the trick-or-treaters had barely cleared the driveway when Steve Harrington dropped face-first onto his couch. The porch light was still on, announcing someone was home, but he was done pretending to care about another group of middle-school pirates demanding Kit Kats.

The coffee table was a battlefield of candy wrappers and half-empty soda cans. Plastic fangs, a stray cape, and a feathered witch’s hat from Robin’s earlier appearance as “the hot witch of Scoops Ahoy” were scattered across the cushions. Hawkins might have been quiet now, but the night still hummed, that late-October smell of smoke, sugar, and cold grass seeping through the cracked window.

Eddie Munson sat cross-legged on the rug, cape pooled around him like spilled ink, fake fangs gleaming under the TV’s flicker. He’d kept his whole vampire getup on, collar high, rings glinting as he rummaged through the candy bowl with exaggerated delicacy.

“You realize,” he said, plucking out a Reese’s cup and tearing the wrapper with his teeth, “if you invite a creature of the night into your home, you can’t complain when he eats all your chocolate.”

Steve groaned into the couch cushion. “Pretty sure vampires don’t eat peanut butter, man.”

Eddie’s grin was sharp and proud. “Ah, but I do. Modern vampires adapt. They blend. They seduce their victims with peanut butter before they suck you dry of your blood.”

Steve rolled his head to look at him, eyes half-lidded. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming,” Eddie corrected, pointing one candy-smudged finger at him. “And if you think about it, vampires are kind of romantic. Eternal devotion, intimate neck contact, dramatic exits. It’s goth poetry, Harrington.”

Steve laughed, the sound low and tired. “You’ve been talking about vampires for three hours straight. Robin’s gonna revoke your movie privileges.”

“She doesn’t understand the art of seduction.” Eddie sprawled backward on the carpet, cape fanning around him. “I’m telling you, the bite’s symbolic. It’s about trust. Letting someone that close to the pulse? That’s intimacy, my dude.”

The words hit somewhere deep, under the easy humor. Steve tried to brush it off. “You’re giving me way too much to think about after a night spent with sugar-high children.”

“Relax, Stevie.” Eddie sat up, eyes gleaming. “I’m just saying, Halloween is the one night we can play pretend without it being weird.”

Steve didn’t have the energy to argue. The horror movie on TV flickered through its last act, all fake screams and fog. Eddie, restless, leaned closer, fangs clicking softly when he spoke too fast.

“Besides,” Eddie murmured, voice dropping, “you’d make an excellent victim. Got that whole tragic hero vibe going on. Pretty neck and everything.” He then gave Steve an overexaggerated wink.

Steve scoffed. “Pretty neck? What does that even—”

He didn’t finish, because Eddie had shifted closer, close enough that Steve could smell the faint cinnamon mixed with chocolate on his breath. The air between them felt suddenly thinner, charged.

Eddie’s gaze dipped to Steve’s throat, then back up meeting his eyes. “Just sayin’. If I were a vampire, you’d be doomed.”

It was supposed to be a joke. But Steve’s heartbeat picked up anyway.

He swallowed, and that tiny motion drew Eddie’s eyes down again. Something electric passed between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

The sudden shift on the atmosphere made Steve shiver.

“C’mon,” Steve said softly, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re not gonna bite me with those cheap plastic fangs.”

Eddie’s grin was slow. “Wanna bet?”

Steve meant to laugh it off. But he couldn’t. Because Eddie suddenly leaned in, one hand braced on the couch beside Steve’s shoulder, the other hovering just out of touch.

The world outside went quiet.

When the “bite” came, it wasn’t rough. It wasn’t even really a bite, just the brush of fake teeth, a ghost of pressure against skin warm from the firelight. The faintest scrape followed by breath, hot and uneven, right at the edge of Steve’s jaw.

Steve froze. His pulse jumped. And in a reflex move he tiled his neck, just a bit, granting Eddie more access.

Eddie wasted no time attacking his neck again, with more purpose now, biting and sucking with a gained confidence.

And Steve sigh softly, not being able to stop the sound escaping from his lips.

Eddie didn’t move away for a couple of seconds afterwards. His breath stuttered once, like he’d now realized what he’d done but couldn’t quite stop.

The silence between them swelled, dense and alive.

“You okay?” Eddie’s voice was barely a whisper, close enough that Steve felt it more than he heard it.

“Yeah,” Steve said, the word catching in his throat. “Just… didn’t expect you to be so good at it.” He tried to tease.

Eddie huffed a nervous laugh, but his eyes flickered down again, betraying him. “Practice,” he muttered, but it didn’t sound like a joke anymore.

Steve could feel every inch of space they weren’t touching. He could feel the warmth where Eddie’s breath had been, the sting of plastic against his skin, a mark that wasn’t real, but somehow was.

Eddie leaned back slowly, the tension stretching thin and shimmering like a thread. “Guess I’m more method than I thought.”

Steve tried to smile, but his voice came out quieter than he had intended. “Yeah. You really committed.”

They didn’t talk about it after that. The movie credits rolled. The candy wrappers rustled in the quiet. But every time Steve shifted, his collar brushed against the spot on his neck, and he felt that pulse of memory, teeth, breath, heat.

________________________________________

The Next Morning.

Sunlight cut through the blinds, catching on the chaos left behind: half-empty bowls of candy, Eddie’s cape draped over the arm of the couch. Steve was still in his hoodie, hair sticking out at odd angles. The mark on his neck had faded to a faint pink.

He told himself he wasn’t staring at it in the mirror, just checking for a rash. Definitely not smiling. And definitely not tracing it with his finger.

By noon, the house was full again. Robin, Dustin, Max, Lucas, Erica, El, Mike, Will, Nancy, and of course, Eddie, who’d shown up like he hadn’t made out with Steve’s pulse the night before.

They were sorting through leftover candy when Dustin’s voice cut through the noise.

“Uh, Steve?”

Steve looked up from a pile of Milky Ways.

“What’s that?” Dustin asked, pointing at his neck.

Steve blinked. “What’s what?”

“That!” Dustin squinted. “Dude, is that, are those bite marks?”

The room went still for half a second before Robin snorted.

“Oh my God,” she said, covering her mouth, eyes dancing. “You didn’t.”

Eddie froze mid-chew, a Snickers half-bitten in his hand.

Dustin’s expression morphed from confusion to horror to dawning realization. “Wait. Wait. Eddie was a vampire last night. Oh my God. Did you—”

Both Steve and Eddie spoke at once.

“No!” Steve said, too fast.

“Maybe,” Eddie muttered under his breath, trying for a grin that came out crooked.

Everyone exploded.

Max laughed so hard she nearly dropped her soda. Lucas groaned. Erica was merciless.

Robin leaned across the counter, smirking. “Guess someone got bitten by love, huh?”

Steve wanted to sink through the floor. Eddie tried to deflect with a mock-dramatic bow, cape fluttering like he’d planned the whole thing.

But later, when the laughter faded and everyone sprawled around the living room again, Steve glanced across the room. Eddie met his gaze, quiet, uncertain, but with that same spark from the night before.

No words. Just a shared look that said: Yeah. It happened. And maybe it meant something.

Steve touched the collar of his shirt again, fingers brushing the faint mark, and smiled.

Outside, the October air still smelled like smoke and sugar.

Inside, the last of Halloween lingered, in the taste of candy, in the warmth of the couch, and in the ghost of a bite that wasn’t fake at all.

Chapter Text

The house was quiet again.

The candy was gone, the wrappers swept into a bowl, and the kids had scattered back into the night like the last ghosts of Halloween.

Robin had been the last to leave, with a smirk and a pointed, “Don’t stay up too late, Count Munson,” before she vanished out the front door.

Now it was just the two of them. Again.

Steve on the couch, Eddie in the kitchen doorway, the faint hum of the fridge filling the silence. The air between them still carried laughter, but something else too, low and electric.

Eddie rubbed at the back of his neck. “So,” he said, voice careful. “Fun party.”

Steve smiled into his hand. “Yeah. Real fun. Especially when Dustin asked if you left me a souvenir.”

Eddie groaned. “I’m never showing my face again.”

“Yeah, right.” Steve glanced up, eyes warm. “You love it.”

Eddie opened his mouth, probably to fire back some smart-ass line, but then Steve tilted his head just slightly, that same unconscious motion from last night, exposing the faint pink mark near his collar.

And just like that, the room went still again.

Eddie’s words faltered. His gaze caught.

He didn’t move, but his whole posture shifted, a fraction more alert, a little softer around the edges.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.

Steve shook his head. “Barely even there.”

Eddie took a step closer. Then another. The air between them thickened, not heavy, exactly, just full.

“You keep touching it,” Eddie said.

“Yeah, well…” Steve’s voice dipped, rough around the edges. “Hard to forget the guy who bit you.”

Eddie froze, lips parting. “I didn’t—”

“You did.” Steve’s tone was gentle, teasing, but something in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t just talking about the plastic fangs anymore. “And it’s fine. I didn’t mind.”

For a heartbeat, Eddie didn’t breathe. Then he laughed softly, nervous, disbelieving. “You’re messing with me.”

Steve leaned back against the couch, looking up at him. “Am I?”

Eddie’s hands twitched at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them. He looked at the window, the faint reflection of two silhouettes in the glass, then back at Steve, who was watching him with that open, unreadable expression that had been undoing him since forever.

The space between them shrank until Eddie could smell the faint shampoo in Steve’s hair, feel the warmth radiating off him.

“Stevie…” His voice came out low, caught somewhere between a warning and a plea.

Steve looked at him, steady and calm. “If you’re gonna run away now, I’d get it,” he said quietly. “But I’d rather you didn’t.”

That did it. Eddie’s heart kicked against his ribs hard enough to hurt.

He sat down beside him, the couch dipping under their combined weight. For a long moment, they just sat, shoulder to shoulder, the TV flickering blue across their faces.

Eddie let out a slow breath. “So, uh… what happens next? Do I turn you into a creature of the night, or—”

Steve laughed, soft, low, fond. “I think we just… see what happens.”

He turned his head, just enough that their foreheads brushed. Barely a touch, but enough to make Eddie’s stomach flip.

The silence stretched, full of things they weren’t ready to say yet, but maybe didn’t need to.

Eddie whispered, “You sure?”

Steve smiled against his skin. “Yeah. I think I am.”

And then, gentle as a secret, Eddie leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t planned or practiced. But it was real, hesitant at first, then warm, then deeper in the way that made the world fade out around the edges.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were smiling, a little dazed.

Eddie chuckled under his breath. “Guess the vampire got his happy ending.”

Steve brushed his thumb over Eddie’s jaw, eyes soft. “Guess he did.”

Outside, a gust of wind rattled the porch light. The night smelled like woodsmoke and something sweet, the ghost of candy, maybe, or the start of something else entirely.

Eddie leaned back against the couch, Steve’s shoulder against his. “So,” he murmured, a grin tugging at his mouth, “you wanna watch another horror movie, or should I find one with more neck-biting scenes?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Dealer’s choice, Count Munson.”

And for once, Eddie didn’t have to pretend.

Halloween had done its job, made the pretend real, and the joke into something worth keeping.