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First We Feast
“Hey what’s going on everybody? For First We Feast, I’m Sean Evans, and you’re watching Hot Ones—it’s the show with hot questions, and even hotter wings. Today we’re joined by Steve Harrington, best known for his performances in box office hits like Red Riverbanks and Polarized, and Eddie Munson, famously known as the front man and lead guitarist for metal band Corroded Coffin. And, most recently, both are featured in this year’s Oscar nominated film: Secrets of the Sun. Steve, Eddie—welcome to the show.”
Steve runs his hand through his hair. “Thanks for having us.”
“Yeah,” Eddie nods, his grin infectious. “Excited to be here.”
“Before we get started,” Sean starts, “how are you around spicy food?”
Steve looks pointedly at Eddie, and Eddie pretends not to notice.
“I think I’m… okay,” Eddie says, his voice higher than usual. “Yeah. I’m like, fine.”
Steve makes a face. “I’ve literally never seen you put hot sauce on anything. Ever.”
“I do sometimes.”
“Never.”
“Sorry I don’t drown my food in it, Steve.”
Steve laughs. “I like spicy food,” he says to Sean. “I’m excited. Yeah, hot sauce and wings are like, two of my favorite things.”
“He’s been overly eager about the wings,” Eddie adds.
“Makes me think of like, going to a sports bar back home or something,” Steve adds, gesturing to the spread of chicken wings and hot sauce out in front of him. “Order a couple wings, watch the basketball game. You know, whatever.”
Sean grins. “Big Lakers guy?”
“Lakers? God, no,” Steve shakes his head. “Pacers all the way.”
“The Pacers?”
“I’m from Indiana!”
“Fair enough, fair enough,” Sean says. “Are we ready to get started?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah.”
The Classic Hot Sauce: Chili Maple
Scoville: 1600
“Mm. Yeah,” Steve says around a bite of chicken, going in for a second. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
Eddie nods along, glancing at Steve, then taking another bite. “Very hot sauce-y.”
“It’s got just the right amount of bite that you’d want in an everyday hot sauce,” Sean adds.
Steve nods and cleans his wing down to the bone. Eddie puts his down after his second bite.
“Okay, Steve, the first question goes to you,” Sean starts.
“Shoot.”
“At this point in your career, you’ve done a number of both television shows and movies. Is there one form of media that you find you enjoy creating more than the other, or do you like doing a mix of both?”
“Uh, I’d say a mix of both,” Steve answers. He sucks the hot sauce off his thumb, then nods. “Yeah. I don’t know—they’re so different, it’s hard to really say if I like one better than the other. I like them for different reasons, you know?”
“Right.”
“Like…” He pauses. “With a movie, it’s really cool to get to be… sort of locked in, like, laser focus on one story for weeks at a time. You put everything you have into this one story for your character, because when it’s done—it’s done. You only get ninety minutes, or whatever, to tell your story.”
Eddie nods. “It’s kind of intense.”
“It’s a little different with TV,” Steve continues. “You have more time, you have some, kind of, like, filler plots that are just fun or frenzied or whatever. And they’re really fun to shoot, but they don’t do much for the overall plot sometimes.”
“But sometimes those are the best episodes,” Sean adds.
“No, definitely!” Steve agrees. “Sometimes you get a bottle episode that just really appeals to the audience, for whatever reason, and it becomes one of the best episodes of a show.” He laughs. “But for me, personally, the thing I like about filming for television is that… You know, especially with a show that can go three, four, even five seasons, is that you meet these people, your castmates, your crew, and you grow with them. You spend so much time together over years and years and you can’t help but bond, and…” He shrugs. “And hopefully make these really lasting connections with people.”
“It’s all about the human connection.”
“Exactly,” Steve shrugs again. “Movies don’t have that. Not in the same way, at least.”
La Pimenterie: Curry Verde
Scoville: 6000
“Curry Verde,” Steve reads from the bottle. “Cool.”
Eddie sniffs his wing and makes a face. “Yeah. Cool.”
“This one’s one of my favorites from the Season 21 lineup,” Sean says.
Steve’s eyes go wide. “You’ve done twenty-one seasons of this?”
Eddie kicks him under the table.
“Ow—what?” Steve shoots him a look.
“Yup,” Sean says without missing a beat. “I’ve done this over… over two hundred times. Maybe over two-fifty by now.”
“Seriously?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Steve’s… a newer fan of the show. I made him watch a few before we came here.”
Steve shrugs with a guilty smile. He starts in on his second wing.
“Me? I’ve been watching this shit since the start,” Eddie says.
“Good.” Sean grins. “Because this next question is for you.”
Steve raises his brow and mumbles to Eddie, “We can swear on this show?”
Eddie nods subtly, reaching over and patting Steve’s leg.
“Eddie,” Sean continues, “you’re well known for your high energy performances on stage, rocking out on the road with famous metal band Corroded Coffin, but last year you stepped out of your comfort zone and made your on-screen debut in the movie Secrets of the Sun.”
“Yeah.”
“What is the biggest difference between performing on stage and performing on set, and are there any transferrable skills from your live concerts that helped you transition into the world of acting?”
“Oh God…”
Eddie puts down his wing after the first bite. It’s unclear whether he’s referring to the hot sauce or the question.
“Um.” He swallows. “There are so many differences, it’s really like… It’s two totally different things.” He shakes his head. “When you’re on stage, it’s like nothing you’ve ever done before. Every single time. You’re looking out at a crowd of tens of thousands of people, and they’ve all bought a ticket to come and see you.”
He pauses, thinking about it for a few seconds.
“There’s this… drive, with that,” he continues. “Every time I step on stage and I see that crowd… Something inside of me just wants to be the best version of myself that night. As a musician, as a performer, whatever. As a person. I just want this to be the best show I’ve ever put on for these people standing right in front of me, watching, listening, even singing my songs back to me.”
Steve looks over at him with a fond smile, still eating the second wing down to the bone.
“Not that—” Eddie shakes his head, “—not that I didn’t want to do my best when I was shooting the movie. Of course I did. But it’s a different atmosphere when you’re doing something for a sold-out stadium, compared to a room full of thirty guys with cameras.”
“I’d imagine it’s pretty different,” Sean adds.
“You also…” Steve chimes in, finishing the last bite of his wing and setting it back down on the table. He wipes his hands on his napkin and looks at Eddie. “I feel like you were really good with your takes. Like, you didn’t mess up or break as much as the rest of us.”
“I had way fewer scenes than the rest of you.”
“No, but, like, maybe that comes from what you do on tour. Having one chance, every night, to get it perfect.”
“That’s true,” Eddie says with a half shrug. “Yeah, with the film it was like, if you messed up you’d just do it again. But if I mess up on stage—if I mess up a lick or play the wrong chord by accident—I just gotta push through it, get past it. Or vamp, I guess, which happens in acting too, I think.”
“Improv. Improvising.”
“Yeah.”
“But most of the time they just run it back and tell you to try it again.”
“Yeah. Like I said—” Eddie takes a breath. “They’re very different. But sometimes it’s good to do something a little different.”
Zesty Lemon Pepper Hot Sauce
Scoville: 15,500
“See this one’s good too,” Steve says around his next bite of chicken. “They’ve all been so… flavorful. So far. They’re good.”
“Yeah,” Sean agrees, taking a bite of his own wing. “A lot of people come on the show and expect them to be a lot worse than they are.”
Eddie looks back and forth between Steve and Sean with a furrowed brow as he tentatively chews his own bite of chicken. He swallows, then looks at Steve with a raised brow. “You’re telling me you don’t think that’s hot?”
“No, I mean, it is, but… I don’t know.” Steve shrugs, taking another bite. “I’d still order that at a restaurant.”
“Seriously?”
Sean jumps to Eddie’s defense. “They definitely start to have a little more kick to them from this point forward, that’s for sure.”
Eddie makes a face. “A little?”
Sean laughs.
Steve finishes his wing down to the bone. Again.
“As a famous actor and musician, respectively,” Sean starts, pointing to each of them in turn, “did you always know that you wanted to do what you’re doing now? For example,” he gestures to Steve, “you started your career as a stunt double, but did you always know you wanted to move into acting at some point? Or is it something you happened to stumble upon?’
“I had no…” Steve starts, then tries again. “I didn’t have any kind of aspirations to be an actor. Not a famous one, anyways.”
“That’s where we differ,” Eddie says, pointing between him and Steve. “I always knew I wanted to do this.”
“Yeah. You were sort of made for this. The rockstar life suits you.”
“It really does.”
“But, yeah,” Steve says to Sean, shaking his head. “I barely knew I wanted to get into stunt work when I first got into this industry. It was just something I wanted to try, and I fell in love with it pretty immediately. And then somehow I stumbled into acting and fell in love with that too. And now,” he shrugs, “here we are.”
“That’s insane to me,” Eddie says.
“I know.”
“I’ve always wanted to play and write music ever since I was a kid,” he explains. “Bought my first guitar at fifteen, and I never looked back.”
“Fifteen, really?” Sean asks, and Eddie nods. “Do you still have it?”
“My guitar?”
“Yeah.”
“Uh, yeah. I think.” Eddie scratches his neck. “It’s somewhere in my house, in the basement with all the other stuff from way back when. It was this beat up little acoustic thing with Sharpie all over it. Doodles, quotes, whatever. Anything teenage me thought was cool.” He laughs. “I should dig that out one of these days.”
Steve nods. “You should.”
“You’re helping me look.”
“Fine.”
Chile Lengua de Fuego
Scoville: 36,500
“As a couple, you two gained increasing popularity after the debut of your joint WIRED Autocomplete Interview for your Secrets of the Sun press tour, and even released a statement the next day confirming your relationship after the influx of attention on your dynamic as a pair.” Sean waits a beat. “Was the press statement something you two had always planned to do, or was it brought on after the relentless badgering of the internet?”
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie says, wincing as he swallows his bite of chicken. “Yeah, uh… Shit. Hang on.”
He waves his hand towards the two glasses of ice water at the other end of the table, and Steve grabs one and brings it over to him. Eddie immediately takes a big sip.
Steve smirks. “You okay?”
Eddie shoves his shoulder into Steve’s.
Steve grips the edge of the table with one hand to keep from falling off his barstool, laughing and grinning as his boyfriend gulps down water.
He takes another bite of his own wing just to spite Eddie.
Steve chews and swallows, then turns towards Sean and nods. “It was something we always planned to do, eventually, but I don’t think we knew we were gonna do it that day until the WIRED interview dropped.” He eats the last bite of chicken off his wing. “I mean—people had started asking questions a few weeks before that, basically when the press tour started, but… I don’t know.” He shrugs noncommittally. “We were just ready, then. You know?”
Eddie nods, setting his water glass down, half empty, and wiping his hands on his napkin.
“The thing people don’t understand is that it wasn’t really a big… coming out, for us. Not personally.” Eddie shrugs easily. “And it wasn’t even like we were trying to quote unquote, stay in the closet, or anything. We just… We were living our lives the way we wanted to, and if the tabloids wanted to keep writing us as friends—”
“Bros,” Steve mocks.
Eddie laughs. “Yeah. Besties.” He shakes his head. “We just didn’t correct them.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “We don’t usually comment on any of that magazine gossip, whether it’s true or not, so it just didn’t seem like an issue at the time. But then, with the interview, it was almost like—okay, this is our opening. This is our chance to just say it, you know? Just put it out there in broad daylight and let everyone… I don’t know. Let them do with that what they will, so to speak.” He tilts his head, a soft smile on his face. “And so we did.”
“And so you did,” Sean echoes. “And how did you guys feel about the response from the public after the interview and the subsequent press release? I know the internet can be a mixed bag at the best of times, so was the response from the public overwhelmingly one way or the other, good or bad, or was it more of a little bit of everything?”
“Um. I guess—it was a little bit of everything,” Steve says, finishing off his wing once again. He sucks the sauce off his thumb. “Yeah.”
“But, I will say,” Eddie adds, “it was mostly overwhelmingly supportive from the fans. From both of our fans.”
“Definitely.”
“I think, for the most part, they were really kind and—honestly happy for us. They’re great. It’s… the rest of the world that wasn’t so sure.” Eddie laughs, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Still isn’t, some days.”
Steve reaches over and squeezes Eddie’s hand under the table.
“Yeah, the general consensus was… fine? I guess?” Steve says tentatively. “I mean, in this industry, in Hollywood, no matter what you’re doing, you’re always gonna have the people who love you and the people who love to hate you, and if you can’t take that in stride, then this business is gonna chew you up and spit you out. It’s just how it is.”
Eddie nods. “At the end of the day, if we’re happy with what we’re doing, then everything’s fine.” He squeezes Steve’s hand back. “We’re not… We really don’t get dragged down by the media stuff that much.”
“No.”
“Not when you’ve been doing this for as long as we have.”
“Yeah.”
Los Calientes: Rojo
Scoville: 49,000
“I already hate this,” Eddie mumbles, staring down at the chicken wing in his hands.
“It’s definitely starting to pick up a bit,” Steve says, going in for his second bite.
“Yeah this is a good middle-of-the-pack sauce,” Sean tells them. “Sort of rounds out the first five and starts to get you ready for the back half.”
“Yeah.”
Eddie sighs, then takes a bite.
Steve and Sean watch him carefully.
Eddie shakes his head. “Shit.”
Steve bites back a smile and runs his hand up and down over Eddie’s back.
“I don’t—” Eddie cuts himself off, swallowing and reaching for his water glass again. He takes a sip. “I don’t understand why people enjoy this.”
“It’s not that bad,” Steve says.
“It’s pretty bad.”
“We’re only halfway done.”
“God, don’t remind me.” Eddie skeptically glances at the rest of the hot sauces. “Why did I want to do this show?”
“Because it’s your favorite YouTube series,” Steve says easily, squeezing Eddie’s shoulder.
“Not anymore.”
Sean laughs good naturedly. “At the end of the last question, Eddie, you mentioned that you’ve both been in your careers for a number of years. Speaking of being in the business for a while, you two both moved to LA when you were pretty young, eighteen and nineteen years old, respectively.”
“Yeah,” Eddie croaks out, then coughs.
“What a lot of people don’t know about you, though, is that you guys actually moved from the same small town in Indiana.”
Steve looks directly into the camera. “Shoutout Hawkins, Indiana.”
“Go…” Eddie wipes at the corner of his eyes with his napkin. “What was our mascot?”
“Tigers.”
“Go Tigers. I guess.”
“Did you two know each other from back home?” Sean asks. “Did you run in the same circles?”
“No.”
“Not really.”
“I… knew who he was,” Eddie starts, taking another sip of water before setting his glass down. “I mean—he dated the cheerleaders, he was on the basketball team, blah blah blah, prom king…” He smirks at Steve, then jerks a thumb at him while looking back at Sean. “He was mister popularity over here. Everyone knew who he was, at one point or another.”
Steve shakes his head, staring down at his half-eaten wing with a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. He tries to hide his bashful smile by taking another bite.
“See?” Eddie teases, nudging Steve’s elbow with his own. “But no, we didn’t hang out or run in the same circles or anything. Not until LA.”
“I didn’t know Eddie until like…” Steve thinks about it. “Senior year? Maybe?” He wipes his hands on the napkin still sitting across his lap, barely used. “We had a math class together, or something like that.”
Eddie stares at him with a furrowed brow. “What class?”
“Math.”
“No, Steve—what kind of math?”
“I don’t remember,” Steve laughs softly. “Whatever class they put the kids who were really bad at math in.”
Eddie nods. “That’s fair.”
The Spicy Shark
Scoville: 71,000
“I’m sweating,” Eddie says, fanning himself with his hand. “Are you sweating?”
“No.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” Steve says, shrugging and taking a bite of his next wing.
Eddie scoops his hair off the back of his neck and starts combing it into a ponytail with his fingers. “You’re a freak of nature.”
“I like hot sauce. Sue me.”
“I’m gonna.”
Eddie ties his hair into a messy bun, then stares down the hot sauces in front of him.
Steve relents and takes his first sip of water after eating all of his chicken wing.
“You’re really going full in with these wings,” Sean comments.
Steve laughs. “I’m hungry!”
“I respect it,” Sean says, finishing his own wing. “As someone who’s done this gauntlet a few hundred times, I can appreciate any and all approaches to get to the end.”
Eddie glares at him while he takes his required one bite of chicken. “I hate you.”
Sean laughs, and Steve snorts into his water glass.
“Alright guys,” Sean moves on. “We have a recurring segment on our show called Explain that Gram, where we do a deep dive on our guests’ Instagram pages and pull interesting pictures that need more context.”
Steve sits up a little straighter, while Eddie drowns himself in his water glass.
“So, I’ll show you the picture, and you just tell us the bigger story.”
“Okay.”
“Sure,” Eddie says, crunching on a piece of ice.
[A picture of Wayne Munson fills the screen. He’s smiling backstage at a Corroded Coffin show, and the photo is dated a few years ago.]
“Waaaaaayne!” Steve immediately smiles.
Eddie laughs, wiping at his eyes again. “That’s my Uncle Wayne backstage at one of our shows. I think…” Eddie clears his throat, then squints at the picture. “Yeah. He’s wearing a hand-made Eddie Munson original band shirt, which is a two-dollar black t-shirt with some red and white fabric paint. We made like, maybe two dozen of those in Gareth’s basement a long time ago, way before we ever had a commercial merch line. I think Wayne bought the first one.”
Steve grins. “Vintage.”
“And I think this was at Gillette,” Eddie continues, “which was the first stadium show the band ever played.”
“Really?”
“Yup,” Eddie says. “Wayne’s always been a huge supporter of us and our music, and I just remember… I remember selling out that night, the first night of our biggest tour—at the time—and I called him up and said: you gotta be here.”
“That’s… Wow.” Steve grins, big and bright. “Wayne’s the man.”
“He really is. He…” Eddie pauses. “I lived with him, growing up. That’s how I ended up in Hawkins. And now he lives with me out here in LA. He loves when the boys come over to jam, or to just—hang out, or whatever. Likes hanging out with Steve, too.”
“Someone’s gotta watch basketball with him, and we both know it’s not gonna be you.”
Sean teases, “Is he a big Pacer’s fan like yourself?”
“Oh yeah. Absolutely.”
[A black and white photo of Steve Harrington in a tux fills the screen. It’s from the waist up, and his bow tie is hanging undone around his neck. He’s smiling big, and in one hand he’s holding up a brown paper takeout bag with a logo on the front that says Dragon Kitchen.]
Steve laughs. “Yeah. This—did you take this?”
Eddie shakes his head. “No.”
“Then—”
“I was there, but I didn’t take this.”
“Then it must’ve been Robin,” Steve says with a nod. “Uh, this was the night of the Emmys… two years ago? I think?” He pauses. “Yeah, this was after. I remember—this was back when I was still living with Robin, and I remember when I left that night, she was giving me shit about bringing home Chinese food after the show.” He laughs. “That was like, well, still kind of is our post-event ritual. You’re always starving when you get home from things like that, and then it’s midnight and no one wants to cook, and… Yeah. That was a good night.”
Eddie stares at Steve, waiting a beat before he says, “Tell them why you were at the Emmys that night, Steve.”
“Oh. I was nominated.” Steve blushes. “Uh, best supporting actor in a drama series, or something like that. This was for Dots, when I was still doing that. Season… three? I think?”
Eddie waits a beat, again. “And?”
Steve blushes even harder. “I won.”
“This motherfucker—” Eddie yells, banging his fist on the table with an exasperated grin. He points at the photo, half out of his seat. “He’s holding up the Chinese food bag with one hand, so happy about some late-night grub, and—you can’t see it because the picture cuts off at his waist, but—his fucking Emmy is dangling from his other hand just out of frame!”
Steve holds his hands up in defense. “I was hungry!”
“You won an Emmy!” Eddie half yells, half laughs. This is clearly a conversation they’ve had before. “That’s why Robin had the camera out!”
“Robin always has the camera out.”
“So not the point.”
Steve shrugs. “Look, I was just happy I remembered to pick up the food on my way home that night, okay?”
Adoboloco
Scoville: 103,000
“How many more of these do we have to do?” Eddie asks, making a face and then biting into the next wing.
“Four. Three more now,” Steve tells him, taking his own bite.
Eddie glares at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“I really am.”
“Seeing me suffer.”
“Not even—well, yeah, a little bit that too,” Steve laughs, shaking his head and taking another bite. “But this is fun. I’m having a good time.”
“Love to hear it. Love to hear it,” Sean says.
“Yeah, you’re not gonna be singing that same tune after the next one,” Eddie grumbles, nodding towards the next hot sauce in the lineup.
“Oh, that’s the awful one, right?” Steve asks.
“Yup.”
“I’m more curious about your reaction than mine.”
“Shut up,” Eddie says, then finishes his water. He immediately reaches for the pitcher to refill his glass.
“Oh, this one lingers,” Steve comments on the wing, handing over the water pitcher. He licks his lips. “Yeah. This one is kinda hot, and it lingers.”
“Kinda hot,” Eddie squeaks out, shaking his head as his eyes start to tear up again. “I’m gonna kill you.”
Steve smirks. “Drink your water.”
Eddie kicks him under the table.
Sean ignores them and moves on to his next question.
“You guys recently attended the Grammys, where Corroded Coffin took home the award for Best Metal Performance, congratulations by the way—”
“Thanks.”
“—and you’re slated to attend the Oscars in the next few weeks as well. What is it like, as two kids from the Midwest, to attend these prestigious awards shows, and is it a similar vibe between the Grammys, the Emmys, and the Oscars, or are they all unique?”
“It’s… surreal,” Steve says, wiping hot sauce from the corner of his mouth. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever been to before. I don’t think …” He shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that feeling.”
“Yeah,” Eddie nods, handing over his used napkin to a production assistant just out of frame in exchange for a fresh one. “It’s one of those things where it’s like… You know, when you’re a kid and you have these big dreams and goals, and you’re like oh yeah, I’m gonna be a rockstar, and I’m gonna write songs and go on tour and go to the Grammys, that’s one thing. But then, to actually be there, to actually reach a point in your life and your career where you get to go to the freaking Grammys, it’s like… Holy shit. I’ve made it.”
“Even when you’re not nominated.”
“Even when you’re not nominated!” Eddie echoes. “Just getting that call from your agent saying you’ve been invited to the Grammys, that’s like… One of the coolest moments of my life. And then getting to go, and see all these people you’ve known and worked with for forever, and meeting all these new people who are just as passionate as you are about music, or acting, or whatever it is—it’s, like Steve said, it’s surreal.”
“They are a little bit different though,” Steve adds. “From one awards ceremony to the other.”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“But some of it’s the same. Like, getting dressed up, walking the red carpet…”
“The tension, the waiting.”
“Listening to all the acceptance speeches.”
“The after parties. The after-after parties.”
Steve makes a face. “We don’t really go to those.”
“No.”
“We’re home bodies.”
“Give us an award and a bag of take out and we’re good to go.”
Steve laughs and shoves Eddie playfully. “I’d take just the food.”
Eddie smiles at him. “I know you would.”
“But yeah, they are a little bit different,” Steve continues. “But not in like… the fanfare of it all. It’s more—for me anyways—different in the people you see and the reason why you’re there. Like, when I go to the Emmys I’m there for my cast, and my show, and maybe even for myself. But when I go to the Grammys,” Steve points to Eddie, “I’m just there to support him.”
“Yeah it is a different vibe, going for yourself versus going as a plus one,” Eddie agrees. “But it’ll be interesting when we go to the Oscars in a couple weeks—I’ve never been—because I’m, like, half going for the movie, but mostly just going with Steve.”
“No, c’mon. We’re both going for the movie.”
“It’s your movie—”
“It is not my movie.”
“—I’m just also in a couple of scenes.”
Steve shakes his head and looks at Sean. “He downplays it.”
“No, I know,” Sean says. “I’ve seen the movie. I thought you were both great in it.”
“Aw, thanks man,” Steve says genuinely.
“I also thought Steve was great in it,” Eddie beams.
Steve just shakes his head at Eddie, a soft smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye.
Da Bomb
Scoville: 135,600
“This is gonna suck,” Eddie complains.
“Pretty much,” Sean says.
Eddie exhales, then takes a bite, immediately wincing at the taste and the heat.
“Fuck,” he says, closing his eyes tight and struggling to swallow. “That’s—what is that, battery acid?”
Steve makes a face at his wing as he chews thoughtfully.
“If you could go back to your eighteen-year-old selves,” Sean starts, trying to push forward, “before you moved out to California, and give them any piece of advice, knowing what you know now about this business and this industry, what would you say to them?”
Eddie blinks, a few times. “Sorry, I think my ears stopped working.”
Sean laughs.
“What was the question?” Steve asks, taking a second bite.
Eddie watches him in horror. “Are you crazy?”
Steve hums, furrowing his brow and examining his wing.
“Like, are you actually insane?” Eddie asks. “Who goes in for a second bite on Da Bomb?”
“Yeah. Hm.” Steve sets his chicken wing down, the first one so far he didn’t finish. “It’s not good.”
Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically.
“All the other ones—” Steve coughs, then reaches for his water and takes a healthy sip. “All the other ones so far, even the hotter ones, the taste has been good. But that…”
“Battery acid.”
“Like gasoline.”
“Jesus,” Eddie whines, wiping his eyes again. “Hand me the milk.”
“Is that supposed to help?”
“I fucking hope so.”
“Sorry,” Steve says to Sean as he hands Eddie the glass of milk. “What was the question?”
“If you could give your teenage self any piece of advice, what would it be?”
Steve groans, wiping his hands on his napkin. “I don’t think I’d tell that little shit anything.” He laughs. “I don’t know. I kinda like how my life turned out. I don’t think I’d want him to do anything differently and risk messing it all up.”
Eddie dinks half the milk then sets the glass down with some force. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I’d tell little Eddie to go find that douchebag Steve Harrington from his math class.”
Steve laughs. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“No, probably not.”
“I was an asshole back then,” Steve explains to Sean. He thinks for a minute. “Maybe that’s what I’d do. Try and get my younger self to stop being an asshole sooner.”
“God,” Eddie breathes out, tilting his head back and blinking at the ceiling. “I think my eyes are bleeding.”
“You’re definitely crying.”
“Great.”
Alchemy Peppers: Hopp Sauce
Scoville: 641,000
“That’s—see, that’s actually better than the last one.”
Eddie just shakes his head as he chews. “Anything past like, the third one, have all just been awful.”
“No, this one is better,” Steve says. “It—it’s definitely hotter. Yeah. I can feel it now, in the back of my throat.”
“Fuck this,” Eddie whines, reaching for the milk glass again.
“But it’s got flavor.”
“I think he’s trying to kill us,” Eddie says conspiratorially, glancing at Sean.
“Not trying to kill you,” Sean laughs, “but I will ask another question.”
“Shoot,” Steve says, taking another sip of water.
“Well-known actress Nancy Wheeler was famously on our show years ago, during one of our first seasons, and it’s on record that the three of you are actually close friends.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“One of my favorite Nancy quotes is from an interview she did with Vogue about a year ago, in which she states: ‘It’s hard to make friends in Hollywood. That’s why you’ve got to hold on to the ones you have with both hands, and never let them go.’ Do you more or less agree, or disagree with this statement?”
“Agree,” Eddie says without hesitating.
“Yeah, I mean—I know what she’s saying, and I agree, but…” Steve pauses. “It’s tricky, because it’s not hard to find people who want to be your friend, or at least seem like they want to be your friend, but it is pretty difficult to find those few that will actually stick around for the long haul.
“Lots of fair-weather-friends out here.”
“Yeah. But when you find your people, man, you really do have to just hold on to them. Because there are so many ups and downs in this industry, you know, just like there are in any job, any career, really, and—sometimes you just need your friends to help navigate it all.”
“Nancy was actually one of the first people I befriended in LA,” Eddie adds.
“Really?” Sean asks.
“Yup,” Eddie nods. “I mean, I have my bandmates, right? They’re like my brothers, my best friends, obviously, but I knew them before. I knew them from back home.”
“It’s different,” Steve adds.
“But Nancy was probably the first, like, real “famous” person that I kind of connected with out here.”
“Yeah.”
“She did a music video with us. This was right after Just Past the Trailer Park came out, and it was getting big. She was in the video for our first number one hit, ‘86—and we just sort of clicked. We were both…” Eddie hesitates. “I mean, we were both going through some shit at the time, and she helped me kind of really settle into myself in the spotlight.”
“She’s good at that.”
“Yeah.”
“Because, like—” Steve starts, “—she’s been doing this longer than both of us combined, at this point. She’s been around doing TV and shit since she was like, four? Or something crazy like that?”
“Around there, yeah.”
“So she knows… everything.” Steve laughs. “And everyone. She has scary good instincts and intuition about people. I don’t know if people know that about her—”
“If Nancy doesn’t like someone, that’s it,” Eddie says. “That’s enough for me not to want to work with them.”
“Pretty much.”
“Wow,” Sean says with a raised brow. “You trust her instincts that much?”
Steve shrugs, and Eddie nods.
“I don’t think she’s ever steered us wrong.”
“Nope.”
“But yeah. I agree with what she said,” Steve circles back. “You gotta find your people. I mean the three of us… Well, four of us—”
“Yeah, the four of us.”
“We’re like, a close-knit little group,” Steve explains, linking his fingers together. “And that’s all you really need, when it comes down to it.”
Sean nods. “And when you say the four of you…”
“Us, Nancy, and Robin,” Eddie supplies.
“Yeah.”
“Buckley.”
“Yeah, Robin was my first friend in LA,” Steve explains. “First friend, first best friend, first roommate… We kind of came up together, always dragging each other into whatever small indie projects we were working on at the time, and then later too, as our careers started to take off. And we’re still like…”
“The blind leading the blind.”
Steve laughs and pokes Eddie in the ribs. “I’m telling her you said that.”
“She’s gonna see this eventually anyways.”
“We, you know…” Steve shakes his head. “I’ve told this story a hundred times, but she’s the one who first dragged me from stunt work into acting, and the rest is history. We still work on almost everything together.” He laughs again. “I don’t trust anyone else to handle this hair.”
Eddie reaches up to mess with Steve’s hair out of spite, but Steve bats his hands away.
“She’s a really talented hair and makeup technician,” Eddie adds. “Also just a really good person.”
“Yeah.”
“The girls kind of balance us out. They’re so…” Eddie makes a face, “…level-headed and shit.”
Steve nods. “I don’t know what we’d do without them.”
The Last Dab: Apollo
Scoville: TBA
“Here we are, guys,” Sean says, grabbing the last bottle of hot sauce from the line in front of him. “The Last Dab.”
He starts to shake the bottle and Steve looks at Eddie for guidance.
Eddie sighs and grabs their own bottle. “I know I’m gonna regret doing this, but if I don’t do it, every twelve-year-old on the internet is gonna mock me for not doing it.”
“Do what?” Steve asks.
“It’s tradition on our show to add a little extra on the last wing,” Sean explains. “Just a little bit. That’s why we call it The Last Dab.”
“Oh,” Steve says. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do it.”
“Yeah,” Eddie deadpans. “Let’s do it.”
Eddie twists off the cap and tilts the bottle, shaking it a little to try and get the hot sauce to pour onto his chicken wing. It doesn’t do anything for a second—and then it all comes out at once.
“Shit. Shit,” Eddie panics. “That’s way too much.”
Sean cringers. “Yeah. That’s a lot.”
“Here,” Steve says, grabbing his last wing. “Give me some.”
Eddie rubs his wing against Steve’s, transferring some (read: most) of the sauce onto his.
“This is weirdly erotic,” Eddie mumbles, and Steve loses it.
“God, please cut that,” Steve says with bright red cheeks.
“Do not cut that.”
“Are we ready?” Sean asks, breezing right past it.
“Let’s do it.”
“Cheers.”
Steve and Eddie tap the ends of their wings together, then they both take a bite.
Eddie shakes his head as he chews. “I’m never doing this again.”
“I’m honestly shocked you made it past the Curry Verde.”
Eddie elbows him and Steve laughs.
“I feel like…” Steve pauses, then takes another bite. “After Da Bomb, nothing is that bad. It’s hot.” He blinks. “Really hot. But Da Bomb is still the worst.”
Eddie finishes his milk, and his water, then wipes his hands and throws his napkin down on the table. “This show is awful.”
“He doesn’t mean that.”
“I really do.”
Sean laughs. “It’s okay. We get a lot of that around the last few wings.”
“God, who even came up with this shit?” Eddie wheezes. “It’s gonna take a year for my tastebuds to grow back.”
“I had a good time,” Steve says with a shrug. He nods towards the bottles of hot sauce on the table. “Are the rest of these props, or…”
“They’re all real, and they’re all yours,” Sean says. “Take them home if you want.”
“I might take some of them,” Steve says, picking up the classic hot sauce and reading the label again.
“He’s a masochist,” Eddie deadpans.
Steve shoots him a look.
“So, Eddie,” Sean starts. “We’ve had musicians on our show before, but to really solidify today’s episode with you as one of our guests, we have a small request.”
“To not die on your stage?”
Sean laughs. “Okay two requests.”
A production assistant comes in from off camera, holding Eddie’s electric guitar.
“We had your manager bring this over,” Sean says, not missing the way Eddie glares at her across the room, “and we were wondering if you could play a little something for us after finishing the wings of death.”
“I’m really just trying to make sure I can still see you after the wings of death,” Eddie mumbles. “I feel like my brain is on fire.”
“Nevertheless, we’re hoping you’re up for the challenge.”
Eddie sighs deeply, then takes the guitar from the PA.
Steve props his elbow up on the table and watches with a smug grin.
“Don’t ask me to sing anything,” Eddie says, plucking a string and tuning it slightly. “I can’t feel the inside of my mouth.”
Steve laughs, reaching out and rubbing his hand down Eddie’s back soothingly.
Eddie tunes a few more strings, then settles in. “Okay. God, I don’t know if I can do this,” he says with a little laugh. He sniffs, then nods. “Ready?”
“Fire away.”
Eddie breathes out—then he starts to play.
Expecting him to play a bit from one of his own songs, everyone is taken aback for a second when Eddie starts to rock out the guitar solo to Metallica’s Master of Puppets. Everyone but Steve, that is, who almost looks like he was expecting it.
Eddie’s fingers fly along the neck of the guitar with practiced precision. His eyes are still glassy, blinking back residual tears, but he’s so familiar with the song that he barely needs to see anyways.
He rocks out for a solid few minutes, then finishes big and throws his hands in the air.
Sean, along with Steve and the rest of the studio, clap for him.
“That was epic,” Sean says, amazed.
“Had to rely on muscle memory for most of that one,” Eddie admits. “I learned that when I was eighteen. It’s still probably the guitar solo I know best.”
“You were good,” Steve says, proud. He claps Eddie on the shoulder, then tugs him closer and plants a quick kiss on the side of his head.
For the first time all interview, Eddie blushes.
“Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, taking on the wings of death.”
“Thanks for having us, man,” Steve says easily.
“I hope they didn’t treat you too bad,” Sean says to Eddie.
“Jury’s still out,” Eddie says, then smirks. “But this is still my favorite show.”
“And with that, we’ve reached the end,” Sean says, grinning. “Roll credits.”
Steve’s hand falls from Eddie’s shoulder to his waist, and he squeezes gently.
“This camera, this camera, or this camera,” Sean says, “tell the people what you’ve got going on!”
“Um,” Eddie says, blinking. His brain is fried.
“Corroded Coffin is going on tour this summer,” Steve says for him. “So go get your tickets while you still can. They just added six new shows to the original tour.”
“Yeah, come see me and the boys,” Eddie says. “We’ll have a good time.”
“Well, guys, thanks for being here,” Sean says. “And congratulations on surviving the wings of death.”
He starts to clap, and the rest of the production team follows his lead.
The screen fades to the First We Feast logo, and the video ends.
2,840 Comments
c0rr0ded
already got my tickets! super stoked
Will M.
Eddie thinks black pepper is spicy
tattoodbats
steve and eddie are like opposite ends of the hot ones spectrum and nancy sits right in the middle
Anonymous
WHO EATS CHICKEN WINGS LIKE THAT
Harriet Lowes
I didn’t know you could have more than one guest on this show
Tyler L.
hahahaha new fav hot ones
cc4life
petition to get the rest of cc on this asap
Lucy J.
I was waiting for Eddie to pour the pitcher of milk all over himself
sinistercherubs
historians say that eddie munson is still crying
harringtonxmunson
we used to dream about days like this
Anita G.
Awesome!
babyboyharrington
steve is a demon wtf
steveharringtondaily
are we gonna talk about how steve absolutely devoured the wings of death or
Louis Johnson
Who are these guys?
EddieFan86
embarrassing turnout from eddie, but mad respect for making it to the end
steddietruther_
steve is never going to let eddie forget this day
Anonymous
could they not get anyone better on the show or
harringtonxmunson
and yet they still didn’t invite you!
coweyesbfs
I’M OBSESSED WITH THEM
Patrick W.
Eddie get up, look at me, this isn’t you
harringtonschesthair
my boy took that like a fucking champ.
Grant P.
top 3 hot ones
corrodedb0ys
that guitar solo was SICK
edwardsharrington
so when are they getting married
Naomi N.
They’re adorable!
steddie4days
need this tattooed on my forehead
eddiekinnie
me handshake eddie: can’t handle spicy food
Joe Rollins
These guys are awesome
munsonenthusiast
he’s so baby boy
steddie4days
which one
munsonenthusiast
yes
Alice V.
Sean Evans never misses
Molly T.
Steve Harrington ages like a fine wine
steddiehasmyheart
I don’t think I’ll ever be over them doing interviews together as actual boyfriends
edwardsharrington
never won this hard in my life
LoLo C.
I could never do this
steeeeeevelover
i would die for both of them.
“Why did we do this to ourselves?”
“It was your idea!”
Eddie groans and throws an arm over his eyes. He’s been lying in bed all day, ever since they filmed their Hot Ones interview earlier.
Steve lays next to him, his head in his hand, propped up on one elbow. “What do you need?”
Eddie peeks out from under his arm and glares at his boyfriend.
Steve tilts his head. “I’m just trying to help.”
“How is this not affecting you?”
“It is, I’m just not being a little baby about it.”
Eddie whacks Steve in the chest, and Steve laughs.
“My insides feel like they’re on fire,” Eddie complains.
“Yup.”
“I still can’t feel my mouth.”
Steve licks his lips. “Mine feels fine.”
“How did I not know you were a demon?”
“A what?”
“It’s the only explanation for how you ate those wings like they were candy.”
“I skipped breakfast.”
“You know what I mean.”
Steve reaches over and peels Eddie’s arm away from his face. “You want more Pepto?”
Eddie scrunches up his face. “No.”
“You want some water?”
“…Maybe.”
Steve leans over and kisses his brow. “I’ll be right back.”
But before he can get up from the bed, Eddie’s arm darts out and grabs Steve by the shoulder.
“No don’t go,” Eddie whines.
“Eddie.”
“Stay.”
Steve smiles and shakes his head. “The fridge is like, a thirty second walk from here.”
“Too far,” Eddie mumbles, rolling onto his side and into his boyfriend’s arms.
Steve laughs. “Fine.”
Eddie snuggles into Steve’s hold. “Never. Again.”
“Yes, dear,” Steve deadpans, kissing the top of Eddie’s head. “I will never make you eat ten increasingly hot chicken wings ever again.”
“You’re the worst.”
“I love you too.”
Eddie grumbles something incoherent, then kisses Steve’s collarbone.
Yeah. He loves him too.