Steve: Just Know That Emotionally I'm Wearing A Pink Crop Top With A Rhinestone Playboy Bunny On It

Steve: Just know that emotionally I'm wearing a pink crop top with a rhinestone playboy bunny on it

OK but that trope where one of them turns up drunk and instead of getting into bed together they just "ur v pretty but I have a____"

Only, Eddie turns up wasted at Steve' place post apocalypse, totally off his face, climbs through the window and lands in a heap on the floor, and while Steve is all hands on deck nail bat at the ready until he spots him, while Steve does tell him to get into bed already cause its late and figuring out sleeping arrangements would be a hassle...

It comes up. "Mmmnnn you--youre...VERY pretty but I hAve a boyfriend soooo..." and then promptly passes out on the floor.

they're not actually dating. And Steve, sweet Steve with a crush, winds up agonising for weeks cause he had no idea Eddie was even gay, much less that he was already taken.

love the word "methinks". like lol. yeah. me sure is thinksing.

Steve Harrington has a lot to be thankful for, and he owes his friends almost everything he is at the age of nineteen. He has learnt about humility, self-criticism, tolerance and kindness. He's the best version of himself so far. He has rebuilt himself a few times now thanks to his friends, and there's nothing he can do to express his gratitude but to be as attentive as humanly possible. He doesn't wait for Dustin to ask him to take him to whatever nerdy camp he's going that summer when he's offering to take him across the state; he doesn't expect Lucas to give him a ticket for his next game because he's already bought one; he's front row at any gig of Robin's band; he's at The Hideout on Tuesdays to see Eddie; he shows up to Max's almost daily to help her with her recovery exercises; he offers his place to whatever event, doesn't matter if it's a Hellfire occasional session or Erica's unicorn theme birthday party. It. Doesn't. Matter. Whatever they want, if it's in Steve's power, he'll provide.

And he's happy. He's content with that.

Glad to be of service.

It doesn't really sting that Dustin does not hug him after leaving for three full weeks, or that he doesn't send the postcard he said he'd send. Steve's sure he must have been really busy.

If Lucas glances at him after the game and waves, but doesn't stop to say hello, it's okay. He's been that age, he wants to be with his friends to celebrate.

If after every band concert Robin has this chance to go with Vickie and the others (but especially Vickie) to have a milkshake, he's not going to be upset because good for her. You rock, Robin. She'll tell him all about it later, probably.

If Eddie's bandmates don't like Steve enough to actually spend more than half a beer with him after every concert until Steve makes up an excuse to flee, I mean, maybe he was a jerk to them back in high school. He doesn't remember them, though, but he didn't remember Robin either, so.

If Max only grunts and gets half mad at Steve for forcing her to do her recovery exercises, that's fine, because she's been through so much, she deserves to be cranky. It's not personal.

And if it is not personal the kids not thanking him after the rides, or the parties, or the Hellfire sessions at Steve's (to which he had bought snacks and soft drinks), it makes no sense for Steve to be a little bit hurt. It is not personal, it is not intentional, and Steve owes them so much. They deserve to be spoilt.

It is okay.

It really is.

So, when after one of Eddie's concerts, the metalhead offers Steve to bail and go somewhere else, it's new. Yeah, Steve can do new.

"Are your bandmates going to join us?" Steve asks, beer can in hand, sitting on a bench.

"Nah, I doubt so. We kinda, uh, had a disagreement."

"Yeah? What happened?" Steve jumped in helpful mode way too quickly.

"They were being assholes."

Steve looked away. "Is that so? Were they mean to you?"

"Nop. They were mean to you. So I told them to go fuck themselves."

Steve froze. "You didn't have to do that. I know they don't like me, it's okay. They're not exactly subtle."

"Yeah, Gareth's a bitch when he wants to. And that is, uh, most of the time. And yes, I did have to do that. You've been real supportive showing up to every gig, y'know? I appreciate that. And stayin' after."

And there it was. Steve gulped and the hidden smile faltered when he felt the heavy knot in his throat.

"And so, I realized that we don't spend enough time together. I know it's not ideal I got this conclusion because my friends are absolute jerks, but, yeah. Let's do whatever you want, Steve."

Whatever he wanted?

"Whatever I want?" What the fuck.

"Yeah. What do you do? I mean, apart from being a good friend and stroll around being painfully handsome and shit, what do you do? Do you play a ball game? Read books? Chess? Bowling? If it's any sports, please, remember I wear leather, and I have a reputation to—Steve? You okay, man?"

Steve was far from okay. Steve was listening to Eddie rambling about possible hobbies and Steve was sitting there noticing he almost answered the first question with "I drive the kids around." He was realizing at that moment that he couldn't recall when it was the last time he did something for him. And what was it? He used to have hobbies, didn't he?

He loved swimming, but he hasn't swum in ages. He had intended to take Lucas to play basketball some other time, but Lucas wasn't available. He—well, he liked movies. But he was easygoing, and Robin usually told him that he had to educate him, so he hasn't picked a movie to watch in a very long time.

And those thoughts must have been leaked through Steve's expression, because Eddie was now in front of him looking at him directly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm—I'm fine. It's just—"

The knot in his throat made it difficult to talk. He was faltering.

"To be fair, I don't have any hobbies."

"Uh-huh."

"I really don't." Steve looked at Eddie, who was gazing back at him with a deeply dramatic expression of incredulity.

"So, you're telling me that all you do is be a good friend and be handsome. I don't buy it."

Steve laughed a bit, and the knot seemed to ease a little, but now his hands were slightly shaking.

"I mean, I used to have hobbies when I was a kid, but not anymore."

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? I'm an adult now, I don't have time!"

"I'm an adult now. I'm literally older than you and I run a D&D club and play in a metal band."

"Well, maybe you organize your schedule better, I don't know."

"Ok, let's say it's a matter of organization. What would you like to do?"

"Are  you serious right now?"

"Yes!"

"Steve—"

"I don't know! I don't know, okay? I have no clue what I'm into, I—I can't really—I'm just—it's fine if we do whatever you want, Eddie, really."

It wasn't fine. There were a few seconds of silence, but they fell after that in an easy conversation about music, and then they talked about the brats, and then they took another beer. It wasn't bad or awkward, Eddie had the superpower of making interesting any place he was in, but Steve felt uneasy after that conversation.

When he came back home at almost two in the morning, he realized that he didn't know basic stuff about himself, such as what he did like. He didn't recognise himself in the mirror. He got lost somewhere in rebuilding himself; he couldn't even remember who he was, beyond the lingering feeling of shame of his past self.

He cried himself to sleep.

Eddie started showing up unannounced, and Steve found himself enjoying his company. Eddie suggested different shit to do every day. "Let's go to the movies, you pick", "hey, some friends play tonight at a pub, it's not metal, I swear", "I brought these board games, maybe you like them", "wanna go play pool?", and stuff like that. Steve agreed easily to anything Eddie proposed.

He liked Eddie before, but after Steve realized that Eddie was actively trying to find whatever Steve loved, a warm swarm of butterflies settled in Steve's stomach with no intention to leave. It's not like Steve hasn't questioned his sexuality before, especially after knowing Robin's, but this new dynamic with Eddie made it really easy for him to acknowledge that he wasn't fully straight. Eddie made him feel warm, and safe, and cradled, every single time. And that was also absolutely frightening.

That day, Eddie had suggested staying home and baking a chocolate cake. It was the first time Steve actually asked if it was okay to leave the TV on, he wanted to watch the basketball game. While baking, Steve cheerfully told Eddie about the rules, and the strategies, and the teams, and that this was a final. Eddie actively listened, asking for some demonstrations of some things Steve explained, like a dunk, and Steve would use some dough and Eddie's arms in a circle position to actually demonstrate. The kitchen was so messy, it never stood a chance, but Eddie had never seen Steve laugh so freely, so sincerely.

The cake was in the oven, the kitchen smelled so good, and Steve and Eddie were cleaning the absolute disaster they've made. Steve's cheeks were a little pink.

"I'm gonna remember this", Eddie said.

"Hm?"

"This, as in baking and basketball. We should do it again."

Steve bit his smile, and focused on cleaning the countertop. The butterflies in his stomach were rioting.

"There's a game every week, you know."

"It works for me."

The week went agonizingly slow until the next game night. He had considered telling Robin about his feelings, but he wanted to keep it in a little bit longer, a little bit before speaking it out and it becoming real. A thing to deal with.

Just one more date.

The knock in Steve's front door stirred up the butterflies. Eddie was here already, it was game night.

When Steve opened the door there was not only Eddie, but the whole gang.

"Steve! We're baking carrot cake and cheesecake today!" Dustin shouted, lifting a bag with groceries. The kids said hi coming into Steve's house. Some went to the kitchen, some others were looking for the game on the TV. Still in the front door, Eddie smiled at Steve.

"What's going on?"

"See, I was hanging out with the gremlins at Hellfire a few nights ago and I might have told them you were into game night and baking, and they all wanted to come."

Steve was speechless.

"But why?"

Eddie grinned, full heartedly.

"I have the impression that the brats want to be part of your life, too. I might even dare to say they—we love you, Steve", Eddie's voice was low, and his gaze was fully pinned to Steve's eyes.

Steve smiled, shaky.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," Eddie said.

There were a few seconds of silence, leaning faces, full of smiles and flustered cheeks.

"Come on, Stevie. The game is starting and there are unsupervised kids in a room where they can easily make a fire," Eddie said, closing the door, and taking Steve by the hand towards the kitchen.

Oh, butterflies, have mercy on him.

Give me a Stranger Things AU where it's the second semester of the Party's sophmore year and the teachers are all discussing who they have in their classes that semester and when some of them mention having Party members in their class, other teachers blanch.

"What's wrong with Will Byers? Bit quiet but he's a good kid."

"He's fine - it's Munson and Harrington you have to worry about."

"Why?"

"They psuedo adopted Byers. Mike Wheeler, Dustin Henderson, Jane Hopper, Lucas Sinclair and his sister Erica, too."

"Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington?"

"Yep."

"Both of them?"

"Yep."

"When did that happen?"

"No idea. But one of them or both of them come to pick them up every day. Sometimes they're canoodling in that van of Munson's."

"I think they're sweet."

"You would, Ellen. Just ... be careful. Mother bears, both of them."

"Huh Who woulda thought?"

Eddie’s doing some dumb trick with a couple of wooden spoons, clever hands making them move through the air in improbable ways, and Steve’s about to bite his whisk in half. 

He’d thought for sure that Eddie would be going home the first week; Edward Munson, 29, bartender/musician from Brighton with mismatched tattoos and wild hair, seemed like exactly the kind of pretentious asshole who would flame out early with some ill-advised hipster experimentation. If Steve (28, social worker from Indiana, USA) had been a complete asshole, he’d have said that Eddie didn’t have the fundamentals. That he was all sizzle, no steak. 

It’s a good thing Steve’s not a complete asshole, because Eddie’s been blowing the technicals out of the water so consistently it’s actually pretty fucking embarrassing. His signatures and showstoppers are making a very respectable showing too, except for the time he tried to incorporate some fresh pandan extract and fucked up the liquid ratio, leaving him with a dripping mess that Mary’d declined to even try. 

Afterwards, Steve had seen him leaning against a tree and struggling to light a cigarette. Steve went over for no particular reason, flicking on his lighter and holding it out like a peace offering. Eddie looked at him warily, but bent over the offered flame. 

“Can’t believe I made it through this one,” Eddie said after a moment, white smoke curling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I feel like that every week.” Steve leaned against the tree next to Eddie. It was a big tree, the kind that’s probably been growing in this field since before England was even England. 

“Nah, but—c’mon, you know what I mean.”

“You had some bad luck with your showstopper. Happens to the best of us, man. Your signature hand pies looked sick as hell.” Steve’s own hand pies had turned out pretty well, so he was feeling generous. It had only been the third week; plenty of time for Steve to snag Star Baker, though even by that point, Steve had been getting the creeping feeling that he was being a little too American about the whole thing. Everyone else seemed to think competitiveness was some kind of deadly sin. It was—actually kind of nice, to get the same kind of nerves he’d always gotten before high school basketball games, but know that he wasn’t really fighting against anyone except himself in the tent.

Anyway, the very next week, Eddie had done some kind of kickass gothic castle with a shiny chocolate dragon and gotten Star Baker for the second time. Steve had clapped him on the back, appropriately manly. Eddie had pulled Steve into a real hug, arms tight around Steve’s shoulders and his whole lean body pressed up close and warm. It had only lasted a moment, and then Eddie had bounded over to Mel and Sue, both of whom he’s been thoroughly charming since the get-go. 

Steve thinks that when this season—or, uh, series—airs, no matter where Eddie places, the entire country is going to be just as charmed. Eddie’s going to get whatever kind of cookbook deal or streaming show he wants. Sponsors will take one look at that handsome face and charismatic grin, and a whole world of possibilities is going to open up for Eddie. 

Steve’s not in it for any of that, of course. He’s here kind of by accident, because Robin pushed him to apply, and it’s a goddamn miracle he’s been holding his own. Hell, it’s a miracle he’s in this country at all. When Robin had started looking at the Cambridge MPhil program in linguistics, she’d said wouldn’t it be great if and he’d snorted, yeah right, like I could ever get whatever job I’d need to move to another freaking country, but then—well. Things had happened the way they’d happened, and now Robin’s almost finished with her degree and Steve is taking time off from the London charity he works at in order to be on Bake Off. 

He’s told all this to the cameras, plus the stuff about how baking started as a way for him to connect with the kids he used to babysit in Indiana, blah blah blah. He thinks it’s probably too boring for them to air, but he gets that they have to try to get a story anyway. 

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, is probably going to be featured in all the series promos. Steve is rabidly curious about what Eddie’s story is, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to just ask. It should be the easiest thing in the world. They’ve got kind of a camaraderie going, the two of them; a bit of a bromance, as Mel’s put it more than once. 

It’s true they get along pretty well, and the cameras have been picking up on it: on the way Eddie’ll wander over to Steve’s bench like a stray cat whenever they get some downtime, how they wind up horsing around sometimes, working off leftover adrenaline from the frantic rush of caramelization or whatever. There’s the time Eddie had hopped up on a stool to deliver some kind of speech from Macbeth, of all things, and overbalanced right onto Steve, who had barely managed to keep them both from careening into a stand mixer. Sue had patted Eddie on the shoulder and said, “Well, boys, that’ll be going in the episode for sure.”

They both get along with the other contestants just fine, of course, but they’re two guys of about the same age with no wife and kids waiting at home. It’s only natural that they’re gravitating together, becoming something like friends, Steve figures. It’s pretty great that he’s getting at least one real friend out of this whole thing.

It would be even greater if Steve could stop thinking about Eddie’s hands in decidedly non-friendly ways. With all the paperwork he’s signed, he can’t even complain to Robin about how Eddie looks with his sleeves pushed up to show off the tattoos on his forearms, kneading dough and grunting a little under his breath with effort. Steve had almost forgotten to pre-heat his oven that day. 

Two benches away, Eddie fumbles the spoons he’s been juggling with a clatter, and he bursts out laughing, glancing over at Steve like Steve’s in on the joke. Steve grins back, heart twanging painfully in his chest, and thinks: well, fuck. Guess this is happening.