*at Hellfire*

*at Hellfire*

Eddie: and if you have any suggestions, feel free to put them in the suggestion box

Mike: that's a trash can

Eddie: what's your point?

it means "i love you" (steddie ficlet)

When Eddie was little, his mother used to hold his hand and squeeze it three times. "It means 'I love you'," she told him, demonstrating one squeeze for each word, "and if you want to, you can give four squeezes back to say 'I love you, too'." So little Eddie squeezed back, that time and every time.

It was something that was just theirs, a silent communication, a wordless comfort. Oftentimes it was spontaneous, just gentle, random reminders of affection whenever the feeling arose, but sometimes it was purposeful, meant to be felt deeply as an encouragement or a reassurance.

On Eddie's first day of preschool, he held his mother's hand as she coaxed him through the doors of the classroom. He hadn't wanted to leave her side, but she had smiled at him and squeezed his hand, and it was those three squeezes, sending the warmth and promise of her love through their hands, that had given him the courage to let go and bound fearlessly into the fray of the other children.

On those dark nights when Eddie's father would get a little too drunk, a little too loud, a little too angry, Eddie's hands and his mother's would find each other and squeeze. The gesture was grounding, protective, safe. Eddie could never be afraid as long as he was holding on to her love.

When Eddie's mother got sick, her health gradually deteriorating until she was bedridden and weak and could barely even speak, she still reached for her son's hand and spoke with those three squeezes. I love you. Eddie squeezed back four times. I love you, too. She held onto life as long as she did for him, he knew that, but she couldn't hold on forever. Her hand went cold and still in his and Eddie, only eight years old then, gave three last squeezes as the machines flatlined and the doctors rushed in and a nurse carried him from the room.

That was the last time he ever used that gesture to signal his love.

Over the next twelve years, Eddie found other sources of love and warmth and safety, found it in the bonds he formed with his friends and his uncle and the little lost sheep who wandered into his D&D club. These relationships did not lend to hand-holding, though, and he had since learned how to express his affection for the people he cared about through words and favors and casual, friendly touches instead, and so Eddie never shared the little language of hand squeezes with anyone else.

Until now. Until Steve.

Steve Harrington has become Eddie’s biggest and brightest source of love and warmth and safety. Through the craziness of Vecna and the Upside-Down, through the trauma of almost dying and the long process of recovery, Steve was by his side the entire time, and Eddie has grown to care for him deeply. He doesn’t just love him, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with him, actually.

They’re dating now, finally, after all the months of flirting and pining ultimately led to confessions and kissing, but it’s only been official for a few weeks. Surely it’s still too soon to be dropping the L word already. Not that Eddie would know - he’s never been in love before, never even really been in a proper romantic relationship before. He doesn’t know what the normal timeline is for this sort of thing. Steve is the one with all the relationship experience, he’s the one who’d know, and so Eddie is waiting for him to say it first.

It’s getting increasingly harder to keep it in, though. Sometimes all Eddie’s love just bubbles over, the emotion growing too big for his body and demanding to be expressed. Right now is one of those times. He can’t explain why - it’s not as if Steve is doing anything different or special; they’re just sitting across from each other in a small diner booth, knees bumping together under the table, Steve talking around a mouthful of cheeseburger as he tells a story about something stupid one of the kids did earlier - but Eddie can feel his heart expanding and his chest growing warm, and he feels like he might burst. He laughs at the story and makes a comment to continue the conversation as he catches Steve’s hand, holding it across the table and releasing his bursting affection with three quick squeezes. I love you.

Steve doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know the code or its intended response. He just smiles, squeezes back only once, and gently, idly, rubs his thumb across the back of Eddie’s hand. And that’s enough. Eddie doesn’t need Steve to know what it means, not yet. It's enough, for now, just to hold his hand, just to say it without saying it. 

Eddie starts doing this more often. Whenever his love threatens to overwhelm him, his hand finds Steve’s and squeezes three times. I love you. There’s no pattern to these moments, at least not one Eddie can predict, the feeling arising randomly and without warning at anytime, anywhere: on dates at diners or watching movies on the couch, during mundane tasks like cooking breakfast or cleaning up after hosting friends, in the middle of a kiss or in the bedroom, in the car with a gaggle of teenagers in the backseat or in the middle of Steve’s work. 

Steve still doesn’t know what it means. But Steve is smart, observant. Eddie can tell he’s starting to figure out that it means something, can see him piecing together the way those three squeezes are always accompanied by a softer smile or a deepened kiss or a gentler touch. 

It’s another few weeks until Steve one day returns Eddie’s squeezes with three of his own. ? ? ? The gesture is experimental, unsure, the meaning close but not quite there. Eddie’s breath catches anyways, his smile going soft and his cheeks flushing pink. He squeezes Steve’s hand four times. I love you, too. And Steve knows then; Eddie watches his eyes flash with understanding as it finally clicks in his brain. He doesn’t say anything, though, neither of them do. Steve just pulls Eddie closer and kisses him, soft and slow and deep, and Eddie melts into him.

Now the sun is rising, morning filtering through the window and casting streaks of light across Steve’s bed where the boys lay curled around each other. Steve is still asleep, snoring peacefully in Eddie’s arms, but Eddie is awake, quietly admiring how perfect Steve looks under the soft glow of dawn. The stripes of sunlight illuminate his bare skin with gold, highlighting the adorable little moles on his cheek and neck and shoulder. Eddie kind of wants to bite them. So he does. Because he can. 

Steve yelps when Eddie’s teeth latch onto his shoulder, driving his elbow backwards into Eddie’s stomach to push him off. But Steve is used to occurrences like this by now, so his shove is light and his tone is affectionate as he rolls over to face Eddie and mumbles, “You’re a menace.” 

“Not my fault you look good enough to eat, Stevie.” Eddie grins at him before pouncing again, smothering his boyfriend with more bites and kisses. 

Steve laughs and his attempts to shove Eddie away lack any real effort, until he finally retaliates by finding the secret ticklish spot on Eddie’s side, sending the other boy falling off of him and into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. 

“No fair!” Eddie gasps through his laughter as Steve tackles him with tickles. He admits defeat fairly quickly, breathlessly insisting, “Okay, truce, truce!” 

Steve lets himself be pushed off and settles back onto his side beside Eddie. His chuckles fade into a sweet smile, his eyes bright and shining as he stares at Eddie with an expression of pure adoration. Eddie feels his heart bursting again, the feeling growing bigger and bigger with every second that Steve keeps looking at him like that. He wants nothing more than to reach for Steve’s hand and squeeze three times, but he’s a little afraid to now that he's sure Steve knows what it means.

“Hey, Eds?” Steve speaks after a few moments of silence. 

Eddie shifts onto his side to face him completely. They're barely a breath apart. “Yeah?”

Steve touches Eddie's arm, starting from his shoulder and trailing down. His fingertips are so light as they skim the soft skin of Eddie's forearm and the palm of his hand, Eddie very nearly shivers. Steve slides his fingers between Eddie’s, closes them around his hand. “I love you,” Steve says, squeezing Eddie’s hand as he speaks, one squeeze for each word.

Eddie is overflowing, heart filled to the brim with all the love he has for Steve and all the love he feels in return. His smile spreads so wide his face might just split in two. He moves their hands between them, twisting their arms so that he can press a kiss to the back of Steve's hand. “I love you, too,” Eddie says back, with one squeeze for each word.

It's something that's just theirs now, this little language of hand squeezes.

Mama Ricci Knows Best (last chapter)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 AO3

"I don't understand why you two won't just date already."

They're pulling up into the small driveway of the home Steve's known for most of his life. The miniscule beige bungalow is significantly less impressive than the white walls that had trapped him for the earlier parts of his childhood. Once upon a time this place had only been one that he longed to visit every holiday. Those days seem like a distant memory now, compared with the new ones he'd created actually living there.

Mama Ricci is still going as she eases herself into the loveseat at the edge of the living room. Steve's trying his hardest not to make eye contact, because as much as he'd been prepared for this, well it's still a little hard to reel his ego back when she's this insistent. To say the confessions that are already sitting at the tip of his tongue.

"I'm old, not blind, I can see he clearly likes you. And you've been into him since the first day you saw him."

Steve's hand freezes where it'd been sifting through a small pile of mail. There's a defensive bunch to his shoulders as the smug voice in her tone registers into the most competitive, pettiest parts of his brain. 

"Well I wouldn't say that." He lies, and the look of utter disbelief Mama Ricci sends him is enough to push the confessions down his throat.

"What? he's an attractive and decently nice guy but that still doesn't mean I automatically want to date him." It sounds like bullshit even to his own ears, but still the sarcastic laugh it earns him brings a flood of warmth to his cheeks.

"Oh please. I knew from the start that you'd like my Eddie, but you should have seen yourself when you two first met. I've never been more right about anything." 

And there are 2 things Steve Harrington absolutely cannot stand. 1, being wrong about the things he's usually an expert at, and 2, being mocked for it. He was already dead wrong about Mama Ricci having no chance in finding a guy he'd actually like, but now that she was clearly intent on letting him never forget it? There was no way he was going to admit to it, no matter how close he'd come to doing so just seconds ago.

"Fine." He says, shoulders relaxing as he feels his signature stubbornness slide into place.

"If you end up being right and something does happen between us, I'll let you know."

"We absolutely cannot let her know."

Eddie looks up, brows dipping into a furrow of confusion as a quiet 'huh?' falls past his lips. He's struggling to slip into a pair of tight jeans, wriggling around on the bed in a way that should look far too stupid to be attractive. Yet every part of Steve wants to wrap his arms and legs around the dumbass and never let go. 

They'd exchanged numbers the next visit after Mama Ricci's little intervention ploy. Getting each other's numbers turned into days of consistent texting, entailing a shit ton of shameless flirting–a lot of which made whatever the hell Steve had been feeling for the guy, settle into something significantly warmer and rose scented. Something that wished for permanence instead of the mere satisfaction of a good lay.

Eddie wasn't just a great guy, he was full on amazing. Funny and smart in that quick and witty way that always has Steve smiling to himself. By all accounts Eddie's also one hell of a strange dude, Steve knows he's an over dramatic person himself, but doubts he'll ever find anyone with as much of a dramatic flare and chaotic lack of predictability as the metalhead. Not to mention he was a total nerd. Gosh there'd be times they'd be talking and Steve swears he'd only understand a solid 10% of whatever Eddie's saying. But he never minds listening to it, or reading over texts that has him googling more words and references than he's willing to admit.

The nighttime hours Steve usually spent browsing his media pages and wasting away on his guilty pleasure shows, were quickly replaced with Eddie. Still they mostly danced around their blatant interest in each other, didn't bother to define whatever the hell they were doing.

Until 2 nights ago when Eddie had invited him to watch a gig at one of the bars he plays at.

As if Steve was supposed to watch the guy jump around a smokey stage dripping sweat and sex appeal and just keep his hands to himself after.

Pff. Yeah right.

So here they were, cooped inside Eddie's small, crowded but unbelievably cozy room the morning after, half dazed by the fuzziness of sleep and the lingering sensations of the night before.

"We can't tell my grandmother that we're.." Steve tries to find the words, momentarily distracted by a stretch of ink that slowly disappears under the black fabric Eddie pulls over his head. When his head pops out from under the T-shirt's collar, Eddie has an eyebrow raised, clearly interested in whatever definition Steve might give to their current standing.

"Together…?" He words it as a question and Steve forces down the sudden apprehension boiling in his stomach as he stares down to fidget with the strings of his borrowed sweatpants.

"If you're okay with that."

The silence that follows does nothing to ease his screaming nerves, and for a second he wonders if he'd read their entire dynamic wrong. 

Now wouldn't that just be embarrassing?

But a scratchy laugh breaks into his doubts, and Eddie sounds a mixture of shocked and relieved when he speaks

"Shit, yeah– yeah I'm okay with that." He wheezes out, and when Steve looks up he feels instantly relieved by the wide grin on Eddie's face. "Probably should have wined and dined you first but..I like the sound of together. Like a lot."

There's no way Steve doesn't look like an idiot with how wide his lips are stretched, but considering the far more compromising expressions he's shown in the last few hours alone, it can't be that bad. 

"But what's this about not telling Mama Ricci?" 

The question is enough to reach past his giddiness, and Steve readjusts his seated position so he's fully facing Eddie. They're a little short on time since Eddie had scored a meeting last night with an agent impressed by the band's performance– which was deserved because Metal fan or not, the energy at the show had been nothing short of electric. They'd agreed to meet up quickly for coffee in about an hour for further details before Eddie had to head off for a shift at the record store he worked at.

Busy guy. Hardworking, just like Mama Ricci had said all those days back when Steve had been so sure that whoever Eddie was couldn't be that impressive. Ugh. He hated how right Mama Ricci was.

"She really can't know. It's one thing that she was totally right about you being my type" Eddie places a hand on his chest and lets out a comically loud 'awe' that Steve chooses to ignore. "But she'll never let me live it down if she finds out I got with you this fast after all the fuss I made." 

Eddie looks very clearly amused at first, but when Steve narrows his eyes and lets out a very pointed "She can't know." The expression slowly morphs into..guilt?

Which, wait? Why would Eddie look guilty?

"Eds." 

Suddenly the ceiling seems a little too interesting to the metal-head, and the panic that fills Steve is instantaneous.

"Dude." He repeats, and it must sound serious enough because it's what finally makes Eddie crack. 

"Okay fine! She knows. I told her, but in my defense I didn't know we were supposed to be keeping this a secret."

And Steve has to gape because between the handful of times Eddie's been at the restaurant after they'd exchanged numbers, and the fact that this is technically part of their first out of shop and out of text hangout, he can't think of when the guy would have had the time to rat. 

"When did you even- how??" It's not the most eloquent version of the question Steve can come up with, but Eddie seems to understand. At least if the way he cringes into himself is any indication.

"After the day we spoke out back she texted me–" 

"She has your number??" Steve pretends his voice doesn't crack slightly because exactly how many steps ahead of him had this woman been? Eddie on the other hand seems equally surprised, but more so at the fact that Steve himself didn't already know.

"Well yeah, had it since like the third time I came in. She sends me recipes for stuff and like… coupons and shit." There's fondness in Eddie's tone despite the casual nature of his words, and Steve's caught between cooing at just how close the two apparently are and gasping with offense because what the heck, Mama Ricci never sends him coupons. 

"Anyways, she texted me and asked if I had your number yet. I said no and she very subtly hinted that I should get it next time I came in." Steve can already imagine the absolute lack of subtlety that conversation must have had, but he lets Eddie continue.

"I asked for your number and we started talking so that was great."

The memory of Mama Ricci's voice rings loudly in Steve's ears.

"I don't understand why you two won't just date already."

He and Eddie had already been talking pretty consistently since then. She definitely knew about it and had the audacity– and surprisingly, the skill– to play dumb. Oh he hates her so so much.

"Then she kind of huh, suggested I ask you to see me play at the bar."

Steve almost chokes, eyes going comically wide. He lets out a loud disbelieving laugh and falls back on the bed, bringing an arm over to cover his face because oh the shame.

"Heyy, It's nothing to be embarrassed about." Eddie tries to console him, and Steve just has to wrench his hand back to stare incredulously at him. He's embarrassed yeah but this man can't be serious right now.

"It's nothing to be– dude! you should be embarrassed. My grandmother was literally your entire game."

And the deep flush that settles on Eddie's face shouldn't be nearly as satisfying as it is. But it's well and deserved because he can't be the only one suffering out of this. There's a second of incoherent stuttering and strange arm gestures before Eddie sputters out a defensive "Listen- I'm not the best at this, I needed all the help I could get okay?" 

Steve groans, turns to press his face into the freshly changed sheets. It's enough to throw his mind back to last night, when he'd been pressed against the sheet in a pretty similar manner. The thought alone makes him groan louder.

"Can't believe I just got laid because of my grandmother." 

Eddie's laughter is sharp and does very little to alleviate his internal embarrassment, but it sounds nice, reminds Steve that at least he's getting a precious boyfriend out of this.

Eddie drops him off, even gives him hand a little squeeze that is meant to be reassuring. As if Steve's suffering isn't a direct product of his existence. The little shit.

Steve knows Mama Ricci will be home because apart from the shop and the supermarket she hardly ever leaves the house, and the pantry's been stocked for days while the shop doesn't open for another few hours.

What he doesn't expect to find is the old woman seated against the nearest couch, arms resting neatly on her lap like she's been awaiting his return (which is likely the case in light of the recent revelations). It's not like it's the first time he's ever returned at this time since highschool, if anything this type of behavior is nothing if not expected from him. But there's a cheeky smile on her face when she sees him, and Steve has to will every bone in his body not to turn around and walk right back out.

"Morning." He says dryly. Mama Ricci's grin widens.

"Nice shirt." She remarks and Steve purposefully does not stare down at the band tee Eddie had lent him. He also does not grace the comment with a response, simply slips his shoes off and makes his way to the kitchen. In seconds alone, he hears shuffling steps joining him.

"What happened to telling me if something happened between you two."

And oh the smugness dripping from her tone. Steve knows his entire face is red by now, but he forces it to remain expressionless. When she still doesn't get a proper reaction, Mama Ricci makes a sound. It's the quiet, ominous hum that means she's searching for the most impactual words to use as weapons. It doesn't take her long to find them.

"The bar was Robin's idea you know."

Steve's swears he's going to snap his neck by the end of the day with all the bomb being dropped on him. Mama Ricci laughs, clearly satisfied with herself, and Steve knows he must look ridiculous trying to glare at her through his shock.

"What? You bother her 24/7 with your pining and think she wouldn't get tired of it eventually?" 

He's going to kill Robin Buckly. He'll burn her stash of lesbian celebrity merch and then kill her.

"I hate you both, so much." Steve hisses, and because the universe hates him so, it's at that moment that a quiet ping vibrates against his leg. He pulls his phone out from the pocket of his– no, Eddie's sweats, and on the phone screen is a single text message that reads

'So. How was metalhead dick?'

Steve unlocks his phone and blocks Roobies Boobies from his contact list. 

Of course he has no choice but to unblock Robin after because as fake angry as he is, there's no one else he can rant to about his new probably soon to be rockstar boyfriend who's just as sweet and dorky as he is amazing in bed.

As was predicted, Mama Ricci is absolutely unbearable about the new development. Every date and anniversary is met with a reminder of 'don't forget who got you two together', every holiday is a new day to be remined of how easily they'd played into her hands. Heck even when he and Eddie fight, their issues are always resolved with at least one 'don't undo all my hardwork' sneaked in there somewhere.

But Steve learns to let it go. To give that one significant win to her because if he's being real, it's kind of the best thing that ever happens to him.

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Eddie: You treat an outside wound with rubbing alcohol. You treat an inside wound with drinking alcohol

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Eddie: I've been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now, no response

Steve: wow, they sound pretty stupid

Eddie: they're not though! they're actually really smart, just maybe a little dense

Steve: maybe you need to be more obvious? like, I don't know... "Hey! I love you!"

Eddie: I guess you're right

Eddie: hey Steve, I love you

Steve: yeah! Just like that!

Eddie: holy fucking shit

Steve: if that flies over their head, I'm sorry Eddie, but they're just too dumb for you

Eddie: ...Steve