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Steve is sitting on his bed tossing a red ball into the air over and over again when the phone rings. It's shrill enough to make him wince, the ball falling hard to his face, smacking him on the forehead. He turns over, watching the receiver on the wall. If it was his parents they would hang up after three rings, if it was an emergency anyone in the party knew to let it ring twice, hang up, then call back again five minutes later.
But it keeps ringing, which only means-
“Harrington residence, Steve speaking,” Steve says, hoping to hell that it was just a telemarketer, not the one person he-
“Hey Stevie.” Eddie’s voice is low and rough and it makes Steve squeeze his legs together, his head falling on a hard thump against the plaster of his bedroom wall.
“Eds” Steve all but whispers, his heart starting to beat double time in his chest making him feel like some sort of girl. He catches himself going to tuck his hair behind his ear.
“Don’t sound too excited darling.”
And there it is, the name that has Steve’s knees buckling. Eddie knew what he was doing, knew what it would do to Steve. “I thought you had a gig tonight?” Steve asks, twirling the phone cord around his finger, untwirling just to twirl it again.
“Yeah and imagine my surprise to look up and not see your pretty face in the crowd.” Eddie’s voice sounds like he has gravel sitting in the back of his throat, like it might hurt him to talk at all.
“I was busy,” Steve suggests, Eddie didn’t have to know he sat at home all by himself just to make sure that he didn’t have to see him at all.
“A little birdy told me otherwise.”
Fucking Robin and her inability to keep her mouth shut. And truthfully if Eddie really wanted to know then he could, all he would have to do is ask. Robin would tell.
“And picture it Stevie,” and Steve could picture it; Eddie doing extravagant hand gestures in the living room of his trailer, arms sprawled telling his story as if Steve was right in front of him and not over fifteen miles away. “I’m up on stage and I’m looking for our group of familiar faces, I found them but I don’t see you.”
Steve doesn't have an answer for this. The reason he didn’t go was honestly flimsy to begin with and saying it now, over the phone, to Eddie, made it seem even more preposterous.
“All I wanted to see was you ”
And all of Steve’s resolve fucking crumbles. The floor he’s standing on just swept right out from under him.
“Come over,” Steve whispers down the line.
Steve can hear the smile come to Eddie’s lips, can hear it even through the silence. It makes Steve smile too.
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” Eddie says, the line still crackling, almost like he’s waiting for Steve to hang up. “Be waiting for me okay?”
“Okay,” Steve whispers again, smiling even as he places the phone back into the cradle.
**
Steve has his jacket pulled tight around his shoulders, placing his hands in his pockets to find an almost empty carton of cigarettes and a lighter. Steve pulls them out only to see that they’re Eddie’s brand. In Steve’s opinion Malboros tasted like shit but he was nervous so he lit one anyways, took a few long drags from it before he saw Eddie’s van turn the corner on the end of the street.
His music was loud and his lights were off. Steve needed to remind him to get them fixed.
Eddie pulls into his driveway haphazardly, running over the peonies that his mother had planted along the side of the driveway.
Steve doesn’t move from where he’s standing on the porch, leaning against the brick of his house, continuing to smoke the cigarette as Eddie hops from his van, all but running to where Steve was standing. Eddie bounds up the steps, stopping at the other side of the porch, watching as Steve finishes the cigarette, tossing it to the concret to smash it with the tip of his Nike.
Eddie is smiling like a maniac, his eyes still dark around the edges from his smudged makeup, his denim jacket thrown over a shirt with arm holes so large Steve can see the pale flesh of his stomach. It makes Steve want to taste, makes him swear he already can.
“Don’t be like that darling,” Eddie says, tucking his hands into his back pockets, walking towards Steve slowly.
“Like what?” Steve asks even though he knows exactly what it is he’s doing.
When Eddie reaches him his smile is almost face-splitting. Steve wants to lean forward and run his tongue over Eddie’s teeth. But he’s supposed to be angry with Eddie, although the reason is becoming as tangible as smoke, breathed into his lungs and then let out again into the night air, seen for only a moment before it disappears altogether.
Eddie leans down into Steve’s neck and Steve lets him, leans his head back against the hard brick of the house, wanting so badly for Eddie’s tongue to touch his skin, to taste him.
Eddie huffs a puff of air against his neck, moving back away from Steve. “Come on darling,” Eddie says, turning back to his van, not looking back to see if Steve follows.
**
Steve isn’t adverse to the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, although he’s even less adverse to the back of Eddie’s van. He can still see the blankets from the last time they drove her out to the lake, can even see his other jacket folded neatly behind Eddie’s seat.
And then Steve looks over and watches Eddie’s profile as he drives, the sharpness of his nose and his frizzy bangs occasionally illuminated by the headlights of passing cars. Steve could do this forever, look at him forever.
Eddie looks over too, watches Steve watch him and Steve would love to know what he’s thinking. Would love to know if he can smell the extra spray of cologne that Steve sprayed right under his jaw, if he notices the slight pink to his lips from the strawberry lip gloss Robin left in his bathroom, if he can see that Steve’s hair is styled a different way.
Eddie turns back to the road, but he extends his arm, his hand landing on Steve’s knee, sliding upward until his pinky is pressed tightly to the zipper of Steve’s jeans. Steve wants him to touch, dares him to touch. Talking seems less and less important the closer they get to their destination, the longer Eddie has his hand pressed into Steve’s thigh.
The road is long and rough and Eddie removes his hand to drive to the edge of the water, parking the van in their usual spot. The night is quiet as soon as Eddie turns off the van and instead of meeting his eyes Steve stares off at the moon.
“Come on darling,” Eddie says, reaching for Steve’s knee again, grabbing the underneath to pull, making Steve turn to look at him. “Are you done being mad at me?”
And Steve isn’t sure if he’s done being mad at him. Logically Steve knows that there really isn’t anything to be mad at. The girl at the club wasn’t anything for Steve to be worried about but he couldn’t help it. He saw her leaning over the barrier, saw Eddie lean over the edge of the stage, saw them press their foreheads together. And it wasn't a kiss, wasn’t anything close to a kiss but it was close enough, close enough that Steve saw red. It made him think of Nancy and Jonathan and before Steve could even understand what he was doing he was in his car on the way home.
Steve wants to say no but Eddie’s hand is touching him again, pulling at Steve’s wrist to bring it to his mouth, kissing at the tender skin that resides over his pulse, his tongue tasting the skin there too.
Steve closes his eyes, imagines himself against that barrier, imagines him and Eddie leaning into each other. Imagines Eddie looking dead into his eyes as he lets spit dribble out of his mouth and into Steve’s before he turns back around to sing into the microphone. It’s Steve’s for the taking, he knows that Eddie will give it to him as soon as he’s ready.
Until then it’s this.
This back and forth, this round and around. It’s starting to make Steve nauseous. And tired.
“Yes,” Steve whispers. He’s tired of being mad.
“Can I take you back home baby?” Eddie asks and Steve knows what this means. He knows where this will lead.
“Yes,” he whispers anyway because if Steve Harrington is anything, anything at all, he’s a glutton for punishment. Even more so when that punishment is coming from the hands of Eddie Munson.
**
The whole drive back to Eddie’s place makes Steve feel even more stupid than he did at the beginning of the night, more stupid than he felt when he sat off to the side and watched as Eddie pressed his forehead to that random girls. Made him feel stupid and small.
Eddie reaches over the console and grabs Steve’s knee, squeezes and Steve knows he sees it. He knows that Eddie sees the worry and the pain and the heat of embarrassment coming to Steve’s face, even in the dark of the car.
Eddie was good like that, Eddie knew things like that. Eddie was a master at reading the fucking room and even better at reading Steve.
Getting out of the car and walking to the door of Eddie’s trailer made Steve wager all his options, wondering if maybe he could make a break for the trees and could make it back to his house without Eddie catching him. But knowing Eddie meant knowing that Eddie would find that fun , would make a game out of it. He would catch Steve and make him pay even more than what Steve was aware he was already paying.
The door is heavy and as soon as they’re both through it Eddie walks into the kitchen, grabbing a beer for himself and Steve. He popped the tops and set them on the counter. Steve noticed that they were his favorite brand, it made his stomach swoop.
Eddie leaned against the counter and stayed firmly planted in the kitchen, the difference between the linoleum and the carpet making Steve feel like they were miles apart.
Eddie takes off his denim jacket, the pins and chains clinking as it’s set on the counter. He crosses his arms and watches Steve, smiles at him in a way that makes Steve want to sink to his knees.
He’s waiting, Steve knows this yet he can't bring himself to say anything at all.
“That girl,” Steve finally mumbles, walking backwards into Eddie’s wall, watching as Eddie stalks towards him, his arms still firmly crossed over his chest.
“Come on, you know I don’t like girls Stevie,” Eddie says, undoing the buckle of his belt, sliding it quickly through the loops of his pants, the sound making Steve’s mouth water.
And Steve knows what’s coming next, knows what Eddie will ask him to do, but he stands there and waits for him to say it anyway, acts just as stupid as everyone makes him feel.
“Knees darling.”
And Steve is sinking to his knees, bringing his hands behind his back, waiting for the belt to wrap around his wrists.
“Take your coat off.”
Steve complies.
“All of this over a girl darling?” Eddie asks. Steve feels himself nod as he maintains eye contact with the chain that’s connected to Eddie’s wallet in his back pocket. Steve wants to tug. “Darling,” Eddie says, placing two fingers under the edge of Steve’s jaw, tipping his head backwards.
Steve whimpers.
“You know it’s just you,” Eddie says, “fucking always you.”
The last part is whispered but it has Steve opening his eyes, meeting Eddie’s. There’s something soft and unmistakable there, something that makes Steve feel like running again.
“Wasn't supposed to fall for you,” Steve says.
It slips out, falls right out of Steve’s open mouth. And it sits in the air between them for a moment, sits there so long it feels like it’s starting to collect dust. Steve feels naked, feels raw. His heart aches in a way that only these moments with Eddie can heal.
Everything about Eddie and Steve should not work. Steve is more than well aware of all their differences, all the things that could drive miles and miles between them, instead they’re here. Instead Eddie breaks through all the walls that have been built inside Steve Harrington and in turn Steve loves all the things the world has hated about Eddie Munson.
It shouldn’t work.
But here they are.
“Oh baby,” Eddie says, pulling Steve up from the floor, watches his face, eyes bouncing back and forth between Steve’s own before he’s pulling Steve’s face into his. Kissing him like they haven’t done this before, like they’ll never do this again.