Archive of Our Own

‘Happy Halloween!’

Robin Buckley narrows her eyes. ‘Do you even know what Halloween is?’

The guy falters.

He’s wearing an octopus costume, which Steve can tell he’s actually put some work into. His head is the rounded body and sprouting from his shoulders are eight bouncy tentacles, all stuffed sufficiently that they stay upright.

His face is a shimmery purple, iridescent and yeah, it’s probably the best Steve’s seen so far, except for the girl whose dedication to being Samara is genuinely terrifying. She’s hunkered down in the stairwell and her boyfriend took the bulbs out of the lights, so everyone’s using the fire escape, but every now and then, someone who doesn’t know will go in there, none the wiser and come out screaming.

‘Uh… Hallow’s…ween?’

‘It’s all Hallows Eve, first of all,’ Robin launches into, hand on her hip, the other holding a red cup with cranberry and vodka. ‘Show a little respect. Secondly—’

‘Love of my life,’ Chrissy sighs, draping herself around Robin from behind. ‘Let the poor guy go.’

‘Uh, I am educating him!’

‘He looks like he wants to cry.’

‘He wants to learn,’ Robin insists fiercely, ‘right buddy?’

Steve finishes his beer, grins at Chrissy and leaves them to it. The dorm hall is a riot, it’s trashed and messy and the music is pretty good, if way too loud.

‘Gonna mingle,’ he lies and Robin is already into pagan history so she just nods and waves him away while Chrissy snuggles her girlfriend and settles in for the long haul.

Steve doesn’t mingle.

He doesn’t ever really talk to people, not the way Chrissy does. She’s so fluent and friendly, it comes naturally to her. Even Robin, who is admittedly yelling about the appropriation of ancient cultures to a guy in an octopus costume, makes friends pretty easily. She’s social in a very blunt, yeah, and? kind of way.

Steve is shy.

That’s what Chrissy says.

He kinda hates that word because he’s not shy like what that word means to him. Blushing and stammering and unable to make eye contact.

He just… doesn’t go out much.

Or see anyone.

Or call anyone.

Robin calls him a hermit.

That’s more accurate.

It’s his first year of college, Elementary Education.

He’s gonna be a kindergarten teacher.

And look, the classes and shit are completely fine, they’re great. He’s smart, studies hard, there is no problem there whatsoever.

But whenever his Aunt calls, she asks, ‘You met anyone yet? What about the parties? Any prospects?’ and he just has a huge void of nothing to share with her.

He talks about Robin and Chrissy and where they got coffee that day and what takeout they might get and whose laptop they’ll watch a movie on, but it’s all really lacking.

Steve’s Aunt is the coolest.

And since his own parents disowned him at seventeen, she’s his only family. He lived with her until he graduated and she’s the one paying for college and she’s the one sending care packages and calling every Tuesday.

Her name is Vienna, though he calls her Vee, and he really wants to have something to tell her when she calls soon. Doesn’t want her to feel that paying for him to go to college is a waste.

And like, that’s complete bullshit.

But it’s what he’s telling himself.

Honestly, Steve is curious, but it’s so fucking hard for him.

And that curiosity is starting to widen, to take over. He’s bisexual, but he’s on the outskirts of Narnia, he’s so deep in the closet. Only Robin knows, and Chrissy seems to sense it, nobody else.

Oh, and his parents, obviously.

That awful fucking night they caught him making out with a boy.

But, hey.

Not thinking of that right now.

Not on All Hallows Eve.

Somebody staggers across his path and vomits all over someone else’s closed door and Steve wrinkles his nose, moves away real fast.

He pretends he doesn’t really know where he’s going, tricking himself into it. Upper floor, he walks carefully over a couple who are aggressively making out and another pair who are arguing while laughing, definitely high.

He’s getting close, following the trail.

It’s door 303 and there’s a little rubber bat hanging off the handle. In the top corner of the door the words business hours 6pm-3am are scribbled in black marker.

‘Cool,’ he says to himself, vibrating on the inside, nerves in a chokehold. ‘That’s a cool bat. I should knock and ask… about… the ba—holy shit.’ The door is yanked open without ceremony and Steve is hit with a waft of damning evidence of whose weed is the bestseller on campus. ‘Hello. Hi. Sorry. Hello.’

And there in the doorway he stands.

Folk lore legend, Steve has only heard about him in drunken whispers or scandalous giggles in the Starbucks queue.

He is… painfully hot.

Eddie Munson leans against the jam, looking Steve over very thoroughly with dark eyes, wild raven curls and he is motherfucking shirtless too.

Covered in tattoos, it’s a full set on his chest, both sleeves, down his wrist, even his fingers.

Both nipples are pierced.

He’s pale and he’s got a natural pout, dark eyes that grip and hold, that seem to see all.

Steve just remembered he’s wearing a Sonic the Hedgehog all onesie.

That… should have played a part in his decision to come here.

He has the hood up and everything, chunky spikes giving him false height.

Eddie tongues his cheek, little smile curling the corner of his mouth, eyes bright yet dark.

‘You lookin’ for Tails?’

Steve wants to die.

He clears his throat, gives a nervous laugh and quickly shoves the stupid hood down. ‘No. Good one, though. No. My. This is. Not me. I’m not Sonic.’ Oh god, stop. ‘I’m. My friend made me wear this.’ That’s not better. ‘Suggested it. Who even likes Halloween, am I right?’

‘I like Halloween.’

‘Oh yeah, me too. I love it. So good. Do you know where it comes from?’

‘A candy company?’

‘Ah, you would think that, but no! It’s a pagan tradition, stolen by Christians. Wait, no, that’s Christmas. Um. It’s. Well, my friend knows. I can go get her.’ Just die, right now. ‘No, she’s far away. Out. Ouuut.’ He laughs again, has never felt further from actual humour in his life.

Eddie Munson bites his lips into his mouth, but the smile in his eyes goes nowhere. ‘What can I do for you, Sonic?’

‘Steve. Steve Harrington.’

‘Uh huh, and?’

‘I… would like… to buy drugs!’ he declares brightly after faltering. ‘Please.’

Eddie smirks. ‘Oh, really?’

‘Yes. Very much so.’

‘You gonna pay me in dollars or rings?’

‘I have cash.’ He doesn’t. ‘I can go get cash. I can get it from… somewhere. For drugs.’

‘Shout it a little louder, I don’t think the cops quite heard you.’

Steve’s ears go red, they burn.

His forced laugh is weak.

‘Sorry.’

‘Come in.’ Eddie turns away, leaves the door open. Steve should run.

But he doesn’t.

Inside, it’s dark. The walls are black, he doesn’t know how he got away with that and they’re covered in rainbow chalk sketches, some of which are actually pretty amazing, some of which are pure porn.

There’s a guy inside writing something on paper, headphones on. Eddie throws a sock at him and when the guy pulls them off, Eddie says, ‘Get out.’

The guy rolls his eyes. ‘I need this paper done by tomorrow.’ He looks at Steve, then Eddie. ‘How long?’

‘An hour. Go on, shoo.’

‘God, you suck, Munson,’ he sighs, but doesn’t seem especially put out.

‘Love you too, Byers. Close the door on the way out.’

‘Oh, is that Jonathan Byers?’ Steve asks, swallowing once the door clicks shut. ‘He’s dating Nancy Wheeler, right? I know her, we have a class togeth—’

‘Lock the door.’

‘Um.’

There are candles lit on the windowsill, at least two dozen, the wax is running everywhere and the room smells of green and blue boy aftershave and black leather and the place is a mess, but it’s kinda fascinating too.

Steve can’t look at any of the cool stuff, though.

Eddie Munson clasps his hands together and stretches, arms high, deliberate and slutty, until something pops and he sighs.

‘Lock the door, princess. Please. Unless you want people coming in and out?’

‘I… I don’t have the money yet.’

Eddie moves closer, eyes flicking between Steve’s own like he’s a real compelling page turner.

‘I don’t think you want drugs, pretty boy,’ he whispers low and rough. ‘I don’t even think you partake.’

‘That’s… I have allergies.’

‘Mmhmm,’ he rumbles generously, letting that slide. ‘Which begs the question, why was Steve Harrington outside my door, talking to Ozzy?’

‘Ozzy?’

‘The bat. Did you come socially, Stevie?’

‘I… I um.’

‘Did you hear rumours about me?’

‘Rumours?’

‘Yeah, like,’ he purrs, circling Steve very slowly. ‘Munson the slut, did you hear that?’

‘Uh, no. No of course not.’

‘No? What about the whore in three oh three?’

‘I just heard you sell great weed.’

‘I sell more than that,’ he comments, looking Steve over from the feet up and when his gaze lands on Steve again, it’s heavy. ‘But I don’t think you came for coke, did you, sweetheart? I think you came for a little ecstasy.’

‘I never tried that.’

‘God, you’re so cute.’ Steve blushes hard, body in flux. ‘Are you a top?’

‘What’s… like, in class?’

Eddie smiles wide, tongues his bottom lip. ‘Oh god, I wanna eat you alive, pretty boy.’

Steve squeaks. ‘What?’

‘Don’t you want that?’ he whispers, moves closer and closer until Steve’s back hits the door and Eddie locks it. ‘Don’t you wanna fuck me, Steve?’

He still hasn’t touched him.

But Steve’s heart is pounding hard.

And he’s throbbing in his pants, beneath the stupid Sonic onesie.

‘I…’

‘C’mon, you can do it. Use your works for me like a big boy.’

The heat of the candles is making him dizzy and his heart is smash-crashing against his ribs and he feels helpless in the best way possible.

‘I was curious,’ he whispers, like they’re in a play and no one else can hear, like it’s a secret.

Eddie makes a soft noise of something like approval, looks Steve over head to toe, but he plays along, moves closer and nods. ‘Yeah, you were? What about, sweetheart?’

It’s a low whisper, natural baritone that makes Steve feel weirdly safe.

‘About… about things.’

‘What things, baby? Tell me, it’s OK. You’re safe. I’m not gonna tell anyone or hurt you or make you feel stupid, I promise.’ Eddie’s eyes catch the candlelight. ‘It’s just us.’

Steve takes a deep breath, shores his courage. ‘I’ve never had sex with a guy.’

‘Never?’

‘No.’

They’re still whispering, the language of secrets, the soft tones of those who don’t want to be caught and somehow, it makes Steve feel safe, invisible, held.

‘And you want to know how it feels?’

Steve nods, licks his lips. Five beers in, but he’s not drunk, he’s just loose, he’s relaxed, he is fucking terrified but it plays second to the outrageous desire back-building inside him, gathering strength and making a molten mess of his blood.

Eddie starts to circle him, slow and intent. ‘You’ve been with a girl, though?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You’re doing good, sweetheart, so good.’

Steve shivers, tendrils of cool delight running through him like shockwaves. His dick is hard enough to hammer nails and the onesie does nothing for his modesty.

This feels like a dream.

Like a delusion.

A fantasy.

Eddie’s lips brush the side of his neck from behind, the first time they’ve touched and Steve lets out a little gasp, eyes crossing.

Such a small thing, but so instantly intimate.

‘Tell me what you want, Stevie.’

‘I…’ He has to swallow this thing in his throat, hot and sticky and swollen. ‘I want you.’

‘You want me… to what? Be specific for me, pretty thing, I like specifics.’ Then, when Steve winces, he adds, ‘You can close your eyes if you like. Actually, that’s better. Close your eyes for me and come sit down on the bed, just on the side, nothing else.’

‘O-OK, sure.’

Eddie leads him to the bed.

Sits him down.

Steve closes his eyes, but the last thing he sees is Eddie kneeling in front of him.

‘Can I touch you, Steve?’

‘I—yes, yes please.’

‘Just your thighs, nothing else for now.’

It’s a little flick of disappointment, he barely feels it. ‘Sure, yeah.’

‘Keep your eyes closed, honey, you’re doing so well for me. Now, tell me what you want.’

Still whispering, the noise from elsewhere in the dorm is a distant throb, a forgotten wasteland of idiots, bar Robin and Chrissy.

Steve wets his mouth, nods.

Eyes closed, he says, ‘I want to fuck you.’

It’s the scariest thing he’s ever said.

The sexiest.

‘What else?’

‘I want… if-if you want it too, of course, to have sex. To fuck you, to… to do things.’

Eddie’s palms move up and down over his thighs, so soothing Steve wants to make dumb little kitten noises but cleverly, does not. ‘What things, precious?’

‘Uh… anything. Everything.’

‘Tell me one thing.’

‘I want… I wanna suck your cock.’

The blush is vicious and it spreads instantly, down his neck, across his covered chest. Settles in his cheeks and ears, makes him somehow even more aroused.

‘Yeah? You want that, Steve?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Use your words, baby. Say yes for me.’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s a good boy.’

Steve whimpers that time, can’t help it.

‘Fuck, you’re so amazing,’ he utters, needs to tell Eddie these things. ‘How are you… how do you do this?’

Eddie’s fingers splay wide as he pushes up and on the way back down, he claws just a little.

‘I have really good instincts.’

‘About what?’

‘What people like.’

‘What do I… what do I like?’

Eddie leans up, brushes their noses together.

His breath dances over Steve’s lips.

‘You like when someone else is in control,’ he whispers still, it’s their language. ‘You like feeling safe and a little helpless and being told what to do. You’re a sub top with a praise kink, and probably more if I dug a little deeper,’ he intones, voice dropping to a rough low as his fingers dig in at the crease of Steve’s thighs, fingers dangerously close to his cock. ‘I bet that behind the spines of Blue Justice, there’s a treasure trove of complicated hunger, isn’t there?’

‘I… fuck.’

‘Can I touch you?’

Steve’s throat contracts and his eyes flutter open and he says, ‘You can do whatever you want.’

Eddie’s smile is the slow drip of molasses, it’s warm and sweet and sticky to the touch.

‘Careful, baby, you don’t wanna give me that much power.’

Breathy and lightheaded, Steve says, ‘No, I do. I do, please.’

Eddie gives him another once over, sizing him up this time. ‘Engaged in BDSM before?’

‘No.’

‘Would you like to?’

‘Like… chains and stuff?’

‘No, sweetie, no chains in here. Just a safe way to give someone the keys of control until you want them back.’

‘That sounds um, good.’

‘Yeah? You wanna hear the rules?’

Steve forces himself to get level for a full second. He’s maybe about to have gay sex for the first time and he’s wearing a Sonic costume and Eddie’s been shirtless for all the ten minutes he’s known him and in the distance, he can hear people screaming as they are set upon by Samara and one of the candles gutters and Steve thinks Eddie is fucking gorgeous.

‘What are you thinkin’ about?’ Eddie asks softly, reaching up to stroke Steve’s face.

‘Just… taking it in.’

‘That’s good, sweetheart. I like that. So, what do you think?’

Steve says, ‘Yes.’

*

Music plays on low and the candles make the room warm and Steve thinks Eddie skin smells like soap and sweat and something distinctly bruise blue, something he wants to eat, wants it on his tongue.

Steve is nervous and Eddie is silk-strong, he never wavers and it’s so fucking sexy, the way he pushes fingers through Steve’s hair, calls him perfect, tells him, ‘Just like that, so good for me, Stevie, that’s it, open me up for you because you’re big, aren’t you? You’re so big and my pretty dumb boy needs to open me up before he fucks me,’ all things like that and Steve feels punch drunk on praise and gentle degradation and Eddie has asked him if he likes each thing before he introduces it, checks in for one of three colours and Steve, contrary to the blue pile of discarded shame on the floor, is green, green, green.

It’s intimate and intense and Eddie makes him feel special without putting any pressure on him at all and he teaches as he goes, like Steve is just the best student and he smothers him in praise and petting and he makes swirls with pretty fingers, absent touches that are like a fresh water spring to Steve’s touch starved senses.

Steve has three fingers in his ass, lube-slick and trembling and Eddie’s got one hand in Steve’s hair, telling him more, gonna need more, and Steve only has on his boxers and Eddie is bare beneath him on the bed and it is formative, Steve thinks, because he’s had sex with girls before but this… this is changing him.

‘Don’t wanna hurt you,’ Steve whispers, badly wants to kiss Eddie but it’s the only thing they haven’t done and he doesn’t know if that’s OK somehow.

‘Then stretch me out, baby, open me up before you fuck me like a good boy, wanna feel all of you.’

He clenches around Steve’s fingers, lets out a breathy gasp and arches his back and Steve’s mouth falls open as Eddie fucks himself down, deeper, rougher and it’s obscene and it’s oh so fucking lovely.

Steve pulls out and this time when he pushes back in, it’s four, four fingers and Eddie gives a slutty laugh and then tangles fingers in Steve’s hair, pulls him down for what Steve thinks will finally be a kiss, but it’s not, it’s just so he can safely roll them over without ever dislodging the fingers.

He gets on top, nuzzles Steve for a moment calls him, good boy, and then grabs the already open lube on the bedside table, kisses down Steve’s neck while fucking the fingers inside him, rolling hips and grinding.

‘That’s it baby, fuck me open on your delicate little fingers, bet you’re an artist or something, you’re so beautiful, huh? Oh look at you blush, that’s it, I wanna see that, yeah. Blush for Daddy.’

Steve makes a deeply embarrassing sound, eyes slamming shut, this close to coming in his boxers, but he just keeps it at bay, thinks of Samara down the hall.

They’d already green checked a lot of things, Daddy kink included but somehow, he still didn’t see it coming. It makes him feel wild and small and lovely and like he’ll shatter apart any second.

‘Oh, you like that one, huh?’

‘Fuck,’ Steve bites out, his cheeks so red it burns.

‘Yeah, you like finger fucking Daddy, huh? My good little fuck toy, you’re just dripping to get inside me aren’t you? Say it for me, I wanna hear your sexy voice say how bad you wanna fuck me.’

‘I—I want it,’ Steve babbles, feels like he’s caught between crying and coming and he never wants it to end. ‘Want to fuck you.’

‘Say Daddy.’

‘Ngh,’ he whines, guts twisting, heat searing within. ‘Wanna fuck you, Daddy.’

‘That’s my good boy, so perfect. You ready for me, sweetheart?’

‘Uh huh, I mean yes, yes.’

‘Much better. Gonna pin your wrists down, will you give me a colour after a few seconds once you get a feel?’

‘Yeah.’

Eddie pulls Steve’s fingers out, clasping both wrists and then puts them either side of Steve’s head, pressed into the sheets, pillow on the floor.

He settles between Steve’s legs, nudging them open just enough to let himself in to the warm, sweaty space, cock to cock.

‘Colour?’

‘Green, very green, I-I like it.’

Eddie smiles and licks up Steve’s neck. ‘You like that, baby? Like being held down?’

‘Yeah, fuck, like it, love it.’

‘Such a pretty boy, look at you, all helpless and cute, aren’t you? Do you wanna fuck me now, Steve?’

‘Yes, please, please god.’

‘Hmm, I think not yet, though.’

Steve whines again, half sobs at the end, dizzy from arousal, head swimming with need and the suction of almost pleasure.

‘Wanna make you beg a little first, want to hear that pretty voice make all kinds of song for me.’

He starts grinding them together, pins Steve down and sucks a bruise into his neck under the ear and Steve’s eyes roll right back and he can’t help but thrust in return, desperately fucking himself against Eddie like a mindless little love slave and the thought of that turns him on just way too much.

The friction is so good and it’s making his lungs coil and tighten, it’s making fire in his blood, makes colours swim behind his eyes and he’s sobbing incoherent things when he is ten seconds from coming, so ready for any kind of release but as if he can sense it, Eddie stops.

‘Oh, look at you,’ he whispers, reverent and breathless, staring down at Steve, who thinks he must be a mess. ‘You wanted to come so bad, huh?’

‘Please, please.’

‘Colour?’

‘More, green, so green, please.’

‘Green to the edging or green you wanna come, baby?’

‘Edging, I want it, but I…’

‘You wanna pretend you don’t like it so much?’ Eddie intuits, nosing closer, won’t kiss though. ‘You wanna whine about it, yeah?’

Steve feels like he’s going to explode into stars. ‘Please, please, please.’

‘Mmm, such manners.’

He starts up again, but this time, one hand slips back up into Steve’s hair to lightly pull and the pain is doing strange things to Steve’s nervous system, crosses his wires and makes a neon mess of him.

Eddie’s cock is rubbing insistently against Steve’s own, back and forth, more and more and fuck yeah, Steve wants it but again just before the release can catch and burst, Eddie stops.

Steve actually sobs this time, full on and heavy, he’s got tears in his eyes and green on the tip of his tongue and Eddie praises him to the skies for not coming yet, drags out a slew of new pet names and reaches down to play with the tip of his cock, spreading the precome and pushing his little finger against the slit, makes it hurt is the weirdest good way Steve’s ever felt.

‘That’s my good, silly boy, isn’t it?’ he pants and Steve lets his eyes cross, the words teaming up with the array of sensation to utterly ruin him. ‘You’re just my dumb fuck toy, so good for me, I wanna keep you.’

Steve almost comes that time for real and Eddie must be able to feel it because he reaches down and wraps fingers tight around the base, staves off the oncoming orgasm, cruel and clever.

‘Good boys don’t come ‘till they’re told,’ Eddie declares and Steve shudders, keens high and nasal, wants the kiss, needs it. ‘Not gonna come till you’re inside me, are you, Stevie?’

‘No.’

‘No, what?’

‘No, Daddy.’

Eddie bites his jaw and then pulls Steve up by the wrists like a rag doll until Steve is upright and sitting.

‘You wanna fuck me now, sweetheart?’

The room is dark, but for the gleam of the candles and they’re sweaty and Steve’s head is swimming and he never, ever wants this to end.

But he also needs to come so bad it aches.

‘Please. Please, Daddy, wanna fuck you.’

Eddie licks over his mouth, flattens his tongue and makes a wet mess. ‘Good boy, you’re so perfect.’

Steve lets out a broken sound, leaning in for a kiss, wants to kiss Eddie, needs it, but Eddie just bites his bottom lip, moans low.

‘Beg for it,’ he whispers, pulling Steve up on his knees, chest to chest, they’re rubbing together and rutting and Eddie’s got a hand in Steve’s hair, sharing breath.

‘Please, Daddy. Please let me fuck you, I need it, need to fuck you, please.’

Eddie smiles wide, eyes closed for a moment and then he bites Steve’s jaw, drags teeth to make his skin burst out in ripples of pinpricks.

‘Mmm, that’s my good boy, my perfect little fuck slut. Yeah, you’re gonna fuck Daddy so good aren’t you.’

‘Yeah, I will, I promise.’

Eddie’s on all fours and Steve is inside him.

He’s inside his fucking body and Eddie’s tight, wet, fucking beautiful and Steve is gonna come after, like ten seconds, but oh… it’s just too much, too good.

‘C’mon, sweetheart,’ Eddie bids, pushing back. ‘Make me feel good.’

‘Christ,’ Steve bites out, holds Eddie’s hips. ‘You’re… this isn’t gonna last.’

‘Oh, that’s so fucking cute, you’re gonna come so quick for Daddy? Blow your load and make a mess?’

‘Ngh, fuck, fuck.’

‘C’mon angel,’ Eddie whispers, clenching around Steve’s cock, pushing back and forth real slow. ‘Show me what you got.’

Steve starts slow, knows he’s big, always goes slow with girls, but Eddie seems impatient, wants more, wants it harder, deeper and Steve is just so fucking impressed with himself for lasting this long, but it’s like he doesn’t want it to end either.

‘Edge yourself for me,’ Eddie tells him and Steve reaches down to grip the base of his cock like Eddie did before, tears in his eyes as he staves it off. ‘That’s it, want it to hurt when you come, like you can’t take it.’

‘Daddy,’ he whines. ‘Daddy, please.’

‘Fuck me till I come on your big, dumb cock.’

‘Ahh, god, fuck, Jesus, please, fucking hell, yeah, yeah, OK, fuck.’

Steve keeps his hand there, forefinger and thumb making a disconnected circle around the base as he fucks Eddie harder, faster, until it skin slapping and a violent orchestra of throaty need and Eddie rears up, reaches back to curl his arm around Steve’s neck, brings them nose to nose and utters the words, ‘Make Daddy fall apart, that’s it, baby, you’re so good for me, so perfect, look at you, feel you inside me all the way, you’re so big, so dumb and pretty, wanna keep you and use you whenever I like,’ and he’s jacking his cock and Steve can see it and he wants to taste it, wants many, many things all at once and his hand is cramping, can’t hold the edge ring anymore, so he wraps his aching arm around Eddie’s middle, closes his eyes and whispers, ‘Let me come inside you, Daddy?’

And Eddie comes all over himself.

And Steve feels it, warm, wet spurts.

And Eddie touches his lips to Steve’s.

‘Come for Daddy.’

And that’s the last thing he remembers.

*

‘It’s called aftercare.’

Steve nods, still all dumb and floaty.

‘Oh.’

‘This feeling you’re having, it’s called sub space,’ Eddie tells him, conversational and soothing, he’s chatty after sex, weirdly hyper while Steve just wants to sleep for a week and not ever let this man go.

Eddie has cleaned them up, dried Steve off, and is now stroking his hair while Steve lies boneless on the messy bed, covers wildly askew, pillows on the floor.

The candles are burning low.

The music is a distant blur.

Steve is… wonderfully ruined.

‘Thirsty?’

‘Uh huh.’

Eddie feeds him water, even lifts his head to tip the rim against his lips. Steve drinks greedily and then pulls back, needs more of this floaty rest.

The ceiling is dancing, makes stars of plaster.

He’s never felt like this before.

Better than any drug or drink.

Anything.

‘You’re amazing,’ he tells Eddie, has a brief little war with himself so he doesn’t add anything stupid after it like, do you wanna move in with me and go on many dates? ‘Th’was amazing.’

Eddie strokes his hair, bends to press lips to Steve’s forehead, the only kiss of the whole encounter.

‘You’re somethin’ else,’ he tells him, soft and intent. ‘And I really loved your costume.’

Steve smiles, eyes closed, groans a little. ‘Stop it.’

‘No, I was blown away. Imagine thee Sonic the Hedgehog coming to me to get fucked.’

‘Tha’ss so wrong.’

Eddie laughs, noses against Steve’s cheek.

Says nothing for a while.

The intimacy of it curls tight around Steve’s insides and he feels a flutter of strange need, like he wants to cling to Eddie and never stop.

‘I had a great time too,’ Eddie whispers.

Secrets and candles and Halloween night.

Steve wants to ask him out.

But he doesn’t.

*

One Year Later

It’s early September.

They’re getting coffee, and it’s cold as fuck today, caught them off-guard. Steve rubs his hands together, the hustle and bustle of campus is refreshing and welcome and already a little annoying.

Robin orders for Chrissy, a beautifully complicated art piece of a drink, as opposed to her own just coffee, thanks, and Steve’s basic bitch cappuccino.

‘Why do you not have pumpkin spice yet?’ Chrissy asks the barista, who looks ready to meet her maker if questions like this persist. ‘It’s fall.’

‘We don’t actually roll out the pumpkin spice until next week,’ she explains with a forced smile and Robin comforts her girlfriend, orders brownies for all.

They sit outside, because the chill is actually kinda gorgeous and inside, it’s ridiculously busy.

‘It’s good to be back,’ Chrissy sighs, sipping her drink, she has mittens on and looks like a winter model, suits every season.

‘I already hate it,’ Robin declares looking around. ‘Why are there so many frat bros this year? Did they naturally evolve? I swear that guy was a normal human being last year,’ she points out, nodding towards a guy who is, admittedly, waving around his frat house flag and stopping freshmen to discuss their brotherly needs.

Chrissy looks at Steve. ‘You get your room assignment yet?’

‘This morning,’ he tells her.

‘God, finally,’ Robin says. ‘What was the fucking hold up, seriously?’

‘They said—’

‘I know what they said, but holding up your assignment until now because they accidentally dropped you from the system is still bullshit.’

‘At least I have a room,’ he points out, drinks his coffee and eats a little of the brownie.

‘Want us to come with you to meet your new roommate?’

‘Nah, I got it.’

‘Hopefully it won’t be as bad as last year.’

He winces, thinking of Stalker Stan, whose obsession with his ex girlfriend had resulted in oh so much drama and visits from the cops until he was removed from campus entirely and expelled.

Steve thinks he was at least part of the reason the room assignment dropped him accidentally.

But it’s all good now.

‘So, how’s Aunty Vee?’

*

They part with plans to meet up later.

Steve’s got his now stuff, awaiting the arrival of his later stuff tomorrow and with coffee and chocolate in his blood, he heads for the dorm, assignment in hand.

Second year of college, he’s grown in many ways.

Subtle changes that only really show up when he compares himself to last year.

He’s excited for this new year.

Even if he still feels that weird sense of… loss.

The thing he never talks about, never lets himself think about because it hurts in a weird bittersweet way.

Door 246 looms, it’s ajar.

Steve double checks the very late room assignment sheet.

‘Here we go,’ he says, and then, like a moron, knocks.

On the door of his own room.

OK, whatever, he’s being considerate.

Maybe the new roommate is changing or some shit, it doesn’t hurt to be—

Eddie Munson opens the door.

*

There’s no way.

There is no fucking way.

Eddie’s not having it.

And see, nah… this is fucked.

Because his cousin read his tarot last night and she’s kooky as shit, not to be taken seriously at fucking all, but she did say, old flame on the scene in a really awkward way and Eddie was all like yeah uh huh, I bet.

He was so much happier then.

Last night.

Twenty seconds before he opened his door.

Steve Harrington is staring at him, mouth fallen open, eyes wide.

Eddie knows it falls to him to break the silence.

To crack wise or make a joke or fucking something, because that’s what he does, he doesn’t get caught up like this, he rolls with life, he’s liquid, man, he’s unfuckable.

But he’s just hearing his dumb ass cousin showing him cards and being like, no for real, old flame coming to you in a really tricky way, cards don’t lie, fucker, and oh, he was dismissive and untouchable then.

A little high too, so what?

Now, though.

Now is a slap in the face.

He sees the room assignment in Steve’s stupid, pretty hand and the slow growing horror in those stupid pretty eyes and he kinda can’t actually believe it.

Years of being a tough little fucker come in to play after a few seconds though, won’t have him stuck staring like this.

He slaps on a grin, shakes his head.

‘Well, fuck.’

He goes inside, turns away and buys himself a full, generous second to make a silent scream face before he locks down the multitude of fucking doom inside and styles it all out, because that’s what he does.

It’s what he has always done.

Eddie Munson, styling out disaster without any actual style since the ripe old age of nine.

Steve comes inside, looks around.

‘You’re not…?’

‘Two forty six.’ Eddie runs a hand through his hair, shrugs. ‘Room assignment said I was flyin’ solo.’

‘Mine says… not that.’

Eddie grits his teeth, smiles blandly. ‘Lemme see?’

Steve hands it over and Eddie scans the little chunk of text above, the one that basically says, Dear Mr Harrington, we are so sorry we forgot you were at this college and didn’t assign you a room until just now, enjoy your year!

There in black and white.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

‘Well,’ he says, hands back the paper. ‘Cool.’

Steve’s jaw drops. ‘It’s not cool!’ he blurts out.

Eddie lets the little sting fizzle behind a wall of impassive couldn’t care less friendliness. ‘You OK with the right side?’

‘I—yeah, but no, this can’t be… I mean.’

Eddie turns away, rolls his eyes.

Why does everything with this guy hurt?

‘Feel very free to go complain, Karen your way into another room, whatever you gotta do, Harrington.’

‘No, I—I’m not saying that. It’s just.’

‘Just what?’

‘Nothing.’ Steve sighs. ‘Right side is fine.’

*

The first week is hell.

Eddie’s got classes, he’s busy like always.

That’s the first thing he needs to establish.

That he does business from here.

Business.

Steve nods, says nothing and Eddie has to push, has to explain that business means people coming by to buy drugs and Steve just huffs a little laugh, says, ‘Can’t actually be worse than my roommate last year,’ and Eddie gives him a real doubtful look, but takes him at face value.

There are hours, rules.

People can’t just come by anytime.

Eddie’s a reasonable guy, no - scratch that, he’s a great guy, and so he offers Steve a choice of times, which after some pushing leads to a much narrower window of calling hours, but Eddie doesn’t mind, wants to be considerate.

Jon Byers flat out refusing to even consider being roomed with him again is pretty much a sign from the universe to shift things up a little this year.

Yeah, Eddie went a little wild.

But this year, he knows he needs to crack down.

Steve has a few requirements too.

His friends, Robin and Chrissy will probably be coming by - something they couldn’t really do last year because Stalker Stan was apparently the fucking worst.

Eddie agrees easily.

Steve asks no smoking drugs in the room more than once a day. Eddie agrees (knows plenty of places he can go to get high) and then Steve clears his throat, drops his gaze and Eddie knows they’ve arrived at the tricky bit.

‘You can just say it,’ he tells Steve, leaning back on the bed, wall cold. ‘No sluttin’ it up, Munson.’

Steve shakes his head. ‘Wasn’t gonna say that.’

He was, though.

Eddie’s almost certain.

‘Just. Maybe we could devise a system.’

‘Tie on the door?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

They don’t mention the other thing even once. Steve tends not to look at Eddie much.

It’s hell.

But at least it’s busy.

Eddie’s sales are steady, his classes are sharply demanding, way more than last year and he feels almost off balance. Knows he’ll have to work harder.

The first week, they don’t talk much if at all and Steve is out a lot. Eddie feels bad, looks at his neatly made bed and like, he doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable in his own dorm room, but it’s just… not easy.

It shouldn’t be awkward, that’s the thing.

Eddie’s had more sex than he can easily recall at this point, his first year here had been an explosion of hedonism for him. Selling, partying, experimenting. Hitting the scene down at the club on Eighth and West because he came from a real small town and this… this was new to him.

He developed a rep real fast, liked it, wanted it.

Brought men to his door often.

He took the word slut and made it his own.

And every other time, with anyone else, he’s had zero problem saying catch you later afterwards with no expectation of actual catching… until Steve Harrington.

It’s only awkward because Eddie made it awkward, offering Steve his number at the door like a fucking idiot, and Steve blinked a few times, frowned and then blurted out, ‘Why?’ and then Eddie wanted to curl up and die, so he’d laughed, rolled his eyes and said, ‘God, you’re easy, huh?’ and that was that.

Any little flash of hurt he saw in those pretty amber browns is easy to dismiss as imagination.

And any time they saw each other throughout the year, they’d stuck to the manly code of not looking.

Eddie knows the drill.

Disposable pleasure, he’s the master of it.

But nobody sticks around and he doesn’t do repeats as a rule.

He won’t let himself be rejected.

Discarded.

Not again.

Cuts himself off first, he’s the instigator.

‘Works for me,’ Eddie says, and throws himself into what matters, what yields results and good shit like money and sex and inching closer towards maybe one day having a job that wouldn’t land his ass in jail if anyone found out.

So, yeah.

The first week is awful.

He sells and he has sex with precisely no one because it’s not the fucking nineties and no tie on the door shit is gonna work with Steve the way it maybe would have with Jon.

Why won’t it work, you ask?

Fuck off, none of your business, that’s why.

But like.

It’s all Steve’s fault.

His fault Eddie’s not gonna be able to focus on another person if he can smell Steve’s stupid cologne, or his bedsheets, or see his handwriting, or a sock.

That dumb fucking plushie that sits beside his pillow on his neatly made bed. Stupid fucking dolphin.

How is Eddie supposed to concentrate?!

Turns out not slutting himself around actually means he gets a decent amount of work done but like, that is not the point.

And at the end of the first week, he’s got a hard on just from looking at the water fountain out by the main entrance.

‘Hey, so,’ he opens.

They’re sitting on their beds, writing, working, studying, whatever the fuck. Steve looks up, looks over.

Polite.

Civil.

Like Eddie doesn’t remember all the little noises he made, the feel of him inside, the face he made when he came.

Steve pulls out his headphones.

‘Sorry?’

Eddie clears his throat. ‘Hey, so. I kinda. Need to talk to you.’

A shadow darkens Steve’s expression, but he nods. ‘Yeah, sure. What’s up?’

‘I’m uh.’ Losing my mind. Hypersexual. Horny as fuck. Really mad you didn’t want my number. I don’t give my number to anyone, didn’t you get that I liked you? No of course you did, you just didn’t like me back. I was a disposable fuck. An experience. A one night stand. Yeah, got it, go fuck yourself.

Steve’s eyes widen.

‘Are… you OK, man?’

Eddie hasn’t spoken for like thirty seconds.

Greaaaat.

‘Yeah, sorry. Sorry, totally lost the thread there. Um. OK. Tie on the door situation.’

‘Right, OK?’

‘It’s not really… been happening.’

Steve looks down. ‘Oh. Because of me?’

Yes, definitely you.

Why didn’t you want my fucking number?

‘No, no of course not. I’m just not really used to this room, it’s like right by the stairwell, super heavy traffic. The other room was far away.’

‘So… you wanna change rooms?’

‘No, that’s not. No. I’m just saying…’

Steve rolls his eyes, tiny smile in the corner of his mouth. ‘What, you wanna fuck me?’

Eddie’s insides get struck by dumb-fuck lightning.

Leaves him all stupid and quiet.

It’s the first time either of them has mentioned it, even in this very distant way.

Eddie grabs it.

‘Wait, did you and me…?’ he asks, faux frown, gesturing between them. ‘No!’ he gasps, mock shocked and it’s over the top enough to make Steve roll his eyes, wry smirk shaping that pretty fucking mouth.

‘Shut it,’ Steve laughs and just like that, this entire week of frigid tension just… vanishes. ‘So what’s the issue? You lost your touch, Munson?’

‘Uh, how dare you? I’m the best, we’ll go right now.’ Maybe stop that, you fucking moron. ‘I walk the walk and talk the talk, thank you very much.’

‘Then what?’

‘I just.’ Eddie sighs. ‘I pushed too much with Jon, it wasn’t considerate. I don’t wanna do that with you.’

That and no sex since you has ever felt the same.

Steve holds his gaze. ‘Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna cramp your style or whatever. Honestly, you can bring whoever you uh, whoever you like back here and I’ll go hang out with my friends, hit the library, whatever. It’s all good.’

That all sounds terrible.

‘Oh, OK, well thanks, man, appreciate it. And hey, if we ever get that hard up, we can always just…’ He gestures between them again and instantly wants to punch his own face. ‘Y’know.’

Steve blushes.

Eddie’s never actually seen someone blush in real time before Steve, watched the red spread, the look of someone under siege from their own responses.

It’s agonisingly beautiful.

Steve huffs a tiny laugh, fiddling with his hands. ‘Somehow, I doubt you’d ever be that hard up, Munson.’

‘Well, y’know, we all have off days.’

That… was the wrong thing to say.

Like.

Catastrophically the wrong thing to fucking say and he’s realising it in slow motion, encroaching horror of how awful that actually sounds.

‘No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.’

Steve nods, puts his headphones on again, getting up, won’t meet his eye. ‘It’s all good, man. Catch you later.’

*

Somehow, it gets worse from there.

Eddie compensates by trying to spend as little time as humanly possible in the room.

He’s out, he’s wandering. He’s in the library.

He’s on Grindr.

Back of the guy’s car, it’s quick and he comes horrifyingly fast and after, he goes and sits in a McDonalds until they close and then sneaks into the room, doesn’t even shower.

‘You’re a mess,’ his cousin tells him when he calls her and demands she get her ass over to help him. ‘For real, I love you but you’re disgusting.’

Eddie rubs his eyes. ‘Love you too.’

Carol Perkins sniffs. Wrapped in faux furs, cigarette in one hand, tarot cards in the other, she looks around. They’re sat outside of a little pastry place nursing cheap coffees and world ending drama.

‘OK, let’s see what the universe has to tell you.’

‘Carol, this is a real world problem.’

‘Uh, excuse me, fuck boy, who predicted exactly what would happen?’

He drops his head into his hands, moans. ‘You did.’

‘Exactly. So let’s see what you need to do now.’

‘God, fine.’

‘Ask the cards what you need.’

‘Cards, please take me back in time so I can not fuck Steve Harrington.’

‘Not time travel, wank stain. Going forward.’

‘Fucking hell, Carol, can’t you do it?’

She smokes for a while, smug and prim in her furs from Target and her fancy boots, she’s a little bitch and he adores her.

‘OK, OK, here we go. What does my dumb-ass cousin need to do to get over his crush? What path should he take to be get into alignment?’

She cuts the deck three times.

Even upside down, Eddie can vaguely see what the deal is.

‘Well, that sucks.’

‘Nah, this is good!’ she insists cheerily. ‘I fuckin’ love the Tower!’

‘And why do I always get Death?’

‘Death, reversed,’ she corrects sternly. ‘Resisting change. You gotta let go, dude. Yeah, it’ll hurt and yeah it’ll be a car crash, but—’

‘None of this is comforting.’

‘If you wanted comfort, you should have called someone else.’

‘Carol, I got no one else.’

‘Now, then. The good news is that there’s happiness on the horizon! Look at all the cups! They’re overflowing for you babe! After you embrace change and catastrophe.’

‘You’re the worst.’

‘Nah, you love me.’

‘And you’re still the worst.’

‘You want clarification?’

‘No, this is—’

‘Universe, what else does this fuck-wit need to know before shit gets real?’

She draws The Lovers, reversed.

‘Ah-hah! You need to fuck that guy again.’

‘Carol, I’m losing my mind right now, OK? Can you please just pat my hand and say there there?’

She snorts and sits back. ‘What would that do? You need concrete guidance and I got your back. Go seduce him, get the upper hand.’

‘The fuck is the upper hand when I’m having…’ He gestures wildly. ‘Feelings?!’

Carol makes a face, horrified revulsion. ‘Not feelings.’

‘I know! This is what I’m saying!’

‘You never said feelings! That’s gross, man.’

‘Shut up!’

‘Dude, you never catch feelings.’

‘I’m aware, Carol. But this is the whole thing.’ He sighs, tight with misery. ‘This is the issue.’

‘You fucked a ton of people after him.’

‘Yeah, and it sucked. Nothing felt right after.’

She stares at him, a rare moment of level concern. ‘OK, here’s what we’re gonna do.’

He drops his head on the table. ‘No.’

‘It’s OK, I’ve got you. We’re gonna befriend him.’

‘Carol, that won’t help.’

‘Of course it will. Once you know the fucker all appeal will be well worn off.’

‘I really doubt it.’

‘He’s probably a preppy little fuck, right? Richie Rich?’

‘Not from what I’ve seen.’

‘All right. I bet he’s a Marvel Bro!’

‘He’s not.’

‘Shame, those are the worst.’

‘DC Bros are worse.’

She shudders. ‘Fair. OK, what does he like?’

Eddie sighs. ‘Sonic.’

‘Ah, fuck. Sonic’s awesome.’

‘But he’s also like. A nice guy. Treats his friends well, studies, calls his Aunt. I’ve seen him open doors for people.’

‘All right, so he’s nice, but he sounds like a milk sop too. Way too vanilla for you.’

‘But he wasn’t!’

‘Oh shit, right. Fuck. Maybe don’t befriend him.’

‘You think?!’

He looks up just in time to see her expression brighten worryingly with what he calls Gremlin Glee.

‘Let me set you up!’

*

It’s a disaster.

Unmitigated, unparalleled disaster.

‘How’d it go?’

Eddie gets the phone between shoulder and ear, rolling a joint. ‘I fucking hate you with the fire of a thousand suns, Carol.’

‘It can’t have been that bad.’

‘He looked exactly like Steve.’

‘Oh. Shit. Really?’

‘Well, like. Same hair colour and rough height.’

‘Eddie.’

‘Fuck off, I’m vulnerable.’

‘No you’re not , you don ’t get vulnerable. We’re tough!’

‘You’re tough. I’m knock off.’

‘Hey! You are not knock off, Munson! Did you at least get fucked?’

‘I did.’

‘Was it good?’

‘It was great.’

‘OK, so what went—?’

‘I cried.’

‘….’

‘Yeah.’

‘…gotcha. No more set ups. What are you gonna do?’

‘Curl up and die, I guess. This is all your fault, you know that right?’

‘Hey, don’t even try it. I’m in your corner, rooting for you!’

‘You set me up!’

‘You needed to get laid!’

‘It hardly helped!’

‘I mean, at least now you’re less horny?’

‘Not at all, but thanks.’ Steve comes inside. ‘Anyway, gotta go, love you dearly, bye.’

‘Did he just—?’

‘Hey, man,’ he greets smoothly, cunt-buttoning Carol. Eddie’s on the bed, surrounded by paper and books and drug paraphernalia.

Steve nods and gives the Polite Smile.

‘Good day?’ Eddie asks, cringing inside.

‘Uh. Yeah, yeah, it was OK.’

He doesn’t sound right. Eddie watches him.

‘Hey, are you all right?’

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘Do you uh, need me to go?’

Steve keeps his back to Eddie.

It’s shaking.

Oh fucking hell.

‘Hey,’ he says softly. ‘Steve, what’s…?’

‘I’m sorry,’ the other boy croaks. ‘I just saw my parents. They showed up, came to… to yell at me, I guess, and did exactly that. It was fucking horrible.’

‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry.’ Eddie stands up, doesn’t touch him, but wants to, just for comfort. ‘Can I go get your friends?’

‘No, they’re.’ Steve wipes his eyes, takes a shaky breath. ‘They’re out on a date. I don’t wanna bother them.’

‘I don’t think they’d consider it a bother.’

Steve shakes his head.

‘I just… they came here to lay into me. They drove like three hours. Why would they do that? Am I that much of a fucking disappointment? I must deserve it, if it’s—’

‘Hey,’ Eddie says sternly. ‘Steve, look at me.’

He turns.

Red-eyed and sad, so fucking sad it’s like a crack through Eddie’s dumb-fuck heart.

‘They drove three hours to be pricks? Sounds like they’re the problem. You’re OK, all right? You’re a good guy. You’re the best.’

Steve’s breathing fast, lids dipped low as he stares at Eddie, and they’re close.

Heartbroken and sad.

It’s a dangerous thing.

Eddie can feel it.

Whatever else, the sex last time was fucking amazing. He knows Steve liked it too, not enough to want his number, but like… dude seemed mind-blown all the same.

‘I don’t feel it.’

‘Don’t let anyone make you feel less than what you are,’ Eddie says, rough and intent and Jesus, maybe he should put that on a t-shirt, fuckin’ poetry. ‘You’re incredible. You’re so good.’

Steve gasps, visibly shudders.

The sound of his swallow is thick, heavy and wet. Eddie wants to bite his throat.

‘I’m good?’

Careful, you dipshit, careful.

‘You’re so good, Stevie. You’re perfect, fuckin’ incredible, you’re—’

It’s Steve who kisses him first.

Steve who takes Eddie’s face with both hands and crashes their mouths together, hot and messy for a kiss that’s more collision than anything else but oh fucking wow Eddie is so ready for it, knows he read it right.

Comfort sex.

He can do that.

He can give that.

Friends have sex.

Shut up, yes they do.

‘Tell me I’m good,’ Steve moans while Eddie’s in his lap and Steve’s cock is stretching his ass and Eddie’s handprint is sharply outlined in pink across Steve’s cheek and it’s daylight, barely slipping into evening.

‘You’re so good, baby,’ Eddie swears, means it a worrying amount. ‘You are so fucking good for me. Look at you, fucking Daddy like you’re told.’

He fists his hair, spits in his mouth and licks it out, bites Steve’s bottom lip and a punched out gasp is shared between them, hard to tell whose because Steve’s fucking harder now, cock grinding over Eddie’s prostate and it’s wildly fucking good and Eddie never wants it to end, he wants this forever please.

Steve wriggles out of the hold, takes a little control of the rhythm. ‘Wanna make you come, Daddy,’ he pants, lips to lips, Eddie didn’t let them kiss last time, but this time… he can’t stop it. Wouldn’t know how.

‘Yeah that’s what you want, sweetheart?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Use your words.’

Steve whines and kinda sulks and Eddie knows he wants more, can scent a brat a mile away, even an emerging one.

‘You wanna be naughty for me?’ he whispers, licking into Steve’s mouth and clenching hard enough to drag a little scream from the base of Steve’s throat, wraps his hand around there and presses with his thumb. ‘Colour?’

‘Green, like it, more.’

Eddie squeezes, watches Steve’s eyes cross.

‘God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You wanna be a brat for Daddy? Give me a pretty tantrum?’

‘Uh huh, y-yes, Daddy, please.’

‘C’mon then, baby boy, be bad for Daddy.’

They end up on the floor, rolling for control, pinning and playing and Steve being a brat, whining and pretending and fucking Eddie and Eddie domming softly, domming sly and deep and good.

‘You’re such a little slut, huh?’ he whispers into the kiss and Steve fucks him harder. ‘So desperate.’

‘Shut up, fucking hate you,’ Steve groans, licks like an animal and fists Eddie’s hair. ‘Want you to come on my cock, nothing else.’

‘You think you can do that?’

‘Know I can.’

‘You’re so fuckin’ cute, look at you.’

Steve mewls, drops his head against Eddie’s shoulder, hips gone wild, and then, like he cannot bear to be away, crushes their mouths together again, slants to get that deep angle, that real French fucking way he kisses, it’s so good, so fucking good and Eddie’s underneath him on the floor, legs around his waist.

‘That’s it,’ he gasps. ‘Good boy c’mon, fuck me, fuck me till I come like a good little slut, perfect, so fucking perfect.’

They come in close tandem, one right after the other and they’re kissing the whole time.

Kissing, kissing, kissing.

Eddie knows that’s what’ll get him.

When it turns slow and soft and Steve stays inside, and those pretty fingertips are making swirls on his skin, when Steve whispers how he’s never felt anything like that before… Eddie just knows.

*

They spend the whole night together.

Candles and a locked door that only opens for takeout. They drink Vodka and share stories and they kiss and they fuck and play. Steve is so fucking drunk when he braids Eddie’s hair and Eddie’s drunk enough to let him.

They share Vodka between their mouths.

Laugh when it goes wrong, spit slick kisses and abject stupidity that leads to sloppy fucking on Eddie’s bed with things whispered between numb mouths that have no place in the real world, and Eddie cannot let go of him, can’t stop touching him and praising him and soft-domming, and marking him up.

Bites and finger bruises, nail lines and slap marks, Steve returns each little gift in kind, coming into his confidence and he is just transcendent, a pushy little bitch who’s all like yeah, you gonna come on my cock, Daddy? And Eddie laughs, smacks his ass so hard he cries out and then clenches around his cock, drags up and drops down and then Steve is coming, coming, coming.

Steve is laughing the whole time he’s showing Eddie how good he is at blow jobs and they end up breathless and silent with the laughter that can’t get free, no air to punch it out when Eddie’s cock nearly gets bit because Steve keeps laughing and smiling and that’s apparently not the best way to suck a guy off and so they’re just rolling and shoving each other until Steve takes a screaming breath and then it’s non-stop giggles and hilarity and tears streaming and sore ribs because Eddie forgot laughing like this and so did his body.

They’re kissing for no reason.

Talking and sharing.

Steve nuzzles him while Eddie whispers to Steve precious secrets about his life, his family, his past.

Heartbreak and cruelty.

What he made from it.

How much it matters.

Or feels like it matters.

He tells Steve he misses music.

That all his nightmares are where concrete meets water and there are sharks in there, too close to the real world, they could get him any time.

Steve kisses him.

Says, ‘I’m a good swimmer.’

And they kiss more.

Can’t really fuck at this point, they’ve lost count, but they’re naked and sticky and warm and Steve wraps himself around Eddie like a blanket.

And Steve tells Eddie about his life too.

His parents, his Aunt, his bad experience, his failures. The things he fucked up, the guilt he feels, how much he loves working with kids, that he couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie for months after, that he told his friends all about it and watched as they listened, playing with each other’s hands, and Steve realised he wanted that too.

‘What, this?’ Eddie asks, joining their hands loosely, fingers mapping Steve’s clammy palm, tracing.

Steve kisses him.

‘Yeah, that.’

Desperate and intimate and world-ending.

Eddie thinks that this is his Tower.

He thinks tomorrow, it’ll all come crashing down.

Does not care one fucking iota in the moment.

The sun’s coming up by the time they fall asleep, wrapped in sheets and skin, lips touching, noses rubbing.

‘I should have taken your number,’ Steve whispers, all light and breathy, falling asleep. ‘Didn’t know why you… offered. Thought it was… you were teasing me.’

Eddie closes his eyes.

Swallows hard.

‘I’ll put it in your phone,’ he promises.

But he won’t.

*

They wake sticky, warm and hungover.

Very much tangled up.

Someone is knocking on the very locked door.

Loud.

‘Steve? You alive in there?’

It’s Robin.

Steve opens his eyes.

Sees only Eddie.

Mop of dark hair, gorgeous mouth, that nose.

And then he gets a sudden jolt.

This shock of, oh shit I fucked my roommate.

Followed immediately by the slow-growing realisation of how much sex they had and how obvious it will be when (if) he opens the door.

The next round of knocks stirs Eddie, who scowls in his sleep (Steve already knows he’s not a morning person) and burrows into Steve’s neck, hugging him tight.

‘Um,’ Steve says, sort of stroking Eddie’s back. ‘Hey, I need to… answer the door.’

Eddie sighs.

‘Mmmkay.’

Steve untangles himself from the messy embrace, can feel Eddie’s soft cock stuck against his own and the pull makes him wince but then he’s free, goes about tucking Eddie in and covering him up because it’s cold in the room.

He goes to the door, says, ‘Robs, sorry, I’m here.’

‘Open the door, I was insanely worried!’

‘No, it’s all good. I’ve uh, got a real bad cold.’

‘That’s why you missed class?’

‘Yeah, I’m sorry. I meant to text you but I slept all the way through.’

‘Shit, do you need anything?’

‘Aspirin,’ Eddie calls out sleepily.

‘Is Eddie sick too?’

‘Uh, yeah, but we’re OK. Just riding it out in here, don’t wanna spread the germs.’

‘Steve, open the door, I won’t come in, I just—’ He opens the door a bare crack, shows his face and nothing else. ‘Yeah, you look awful, Jesus, I do not want that. OK, no worries, babe. I’ll tell the professors you’re sick. We’ll drop soup and medicine round later.’

He smiles tiredly. ‘You’re the best, sorry again.’

Back inside the room, he takes in the carnage. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he mutters.

The room is trashed.

Eddie lifts one arm out of the covers, reaching for him. Says, ‘Quit overthinking it, Harrington.’

And for some reason, that makes Steve feel light.

He takes Eddie’s hand, lets himself be pulled back into bed where it’s warm and weird and he feels safe and sleepy.

They sleep until it’s dark.

*

‘OK, walk me through where it went bad?’

Chrissy is stirring her coffee, waiting for an answer while Robin eats fries, listens intently.

Steve wants to cry.

‘It was my fault.’

‘We’ll be the judge of that,’ Chrissy tells him sagely. ‘Now, c’mon. What happened?’

‘I told him last night was a mistake.’

Robin winces and Chrissy grimaces.

‘Oh. Shit, yeah, no, that’s totally your fault.’

*

‘He said it was a mistake?’

Eddie sighs, chest heavy. ‘Yeah.’

‘The fucker, I’m’a kick his ass.’

‘No, you’re not. He’s just being smart.’

‘A mistake? Nah, we don’t let men call us mistakes, babe. No way.’

‘He’s got a point, we’re roommates.’

Eddie is… so fucking sad.

He hates to prove himself right in the worst way, hates being reminded that yeah, this is why he doesn’t do repeats.

It’s just… Steve is different.

Or he thought he was.

‘How much did you guys fuck?’

‘A lot.’

‘A lot a lot?’

‘Don’t Parent Trap me, this is too serious.’

‘OK, sorry. So, what are you gonna do?’

‘I actually don’t even know at this point.’

‘Babe, I hate to say it, but you gotta get over him.’

‘I know.’ He rubs his eyes. ‘I know.’

*

He brings a guy back to the room.

Steve is reading.

Eddie forces a polite, friendly smile.

This was a mistake, Eddie. I ’m really sorry.

‘Hey,’ he greets. ‘You cool to gimme the room for an hour?’

Steve shakes himself.

‘Uh… y-yeah, sure.’

Eddie gets fucked by a guy who looks nothing like Steve Harrington on his own bed, focuses on the pleasure and nothing else.

Doesn’t cry at least.

But it feels hollow.

It feels like scribbling on something lovely, just because.

The guy asks for Eddie’s number after.

Eddie tells him he doesn’t do repeats.

*

A month passes.

Halloween comes and goes.

Eddie’s just about getting by in class.

Wants the EMT certification, knows he can get it if he just focuses.

It’s hard though.

Because no matter how much he pretends, lies to himself, distracts himself, he can’t forget that night.

The secrets they shared.

The things they said while kissing.

The way they touched, talked, played.

Knowing Steve better has not helped at all.

Worse still, Eddie has sort of befriended one of Steve’s friends completely by accident.

Chrissy Cunningham is in two of his classes and she’s sweet, funny and fierce in a real adorable way and she let him copy her notes and they became friends.

Went for coffee and everything, where she said, ‘I should probably tell you my girlfriend is best friends with Steve Harrington.’

And Eddie bit his lips into his mouth, smiled and nodded. Manages a little, ‘Cool, that’s cool.’

He thinks all right, this doesn’t have to mean anything.

It’s a week before December when they all meet up.

*

‘This is nice,’ Chrissy declares.

They’re ice skating.

She’s the only one who’s good at it.

Eddie’s got no central balance, is wobbly and unhappy about this turn of events, feels like the third wheel but Chrissy is sternly friendly, she holds his hand and drags him along while Steve clings to Robin and Robin clings to Steve, the pair falling often.

‘So,’ she says, pulling Eddie faster. He’s mildly alarmed. ‘How’s things with you and Steve?’

‘Uh, fine?’ he answers guardedly. ‘Why?’

She smiles. ‘He likes you.’

Eddie rolls his eyes. ‘Funny, didn’t seem that way when he told me—ow!’

A kid yells at Eddie to watch it, skates off with confidence.

‘Little fucker.’

‘You’re doing great, just hold onto me.’

‘You’re tiny.’

‘But strong. Hey. You’re actually pretty good. You should go help Steve.’

‘I know what you’re doing.’

‘Helping two people to socialise?’

‘You can’t set us up, we already did it. Didn’t work out.’

‘Eh, sometimes you need a third pass.’ Chrissy lets go of his arm. Eddie wobbles, glares at her. She beams. ‘Robbie, come skate with me.’

Robin staggers into Chrissy’s arms.

‘This is a horrible fucking sport.’

‘It’s leisurely,’ Chrissy assures her girlfriend. ‘Eddie, can you help Steve? You’re the best.’

Eddie watches them skate away, fuckers.

Steve sighs and Eddie forces a mildly bitter smile. ‘What were they thinking, huh?’

Steve shoots Eddie a nervous look. ‘Eddie—’

Eddie skates away.

Into that kid.

Again.

*

After, they get burgers and fries.

Eddie’s ankles ache and his toes are sore. Chrissy’s on Robin’s lap, she’s like a little fae creature. Carol is texting Eddie constantly.

He ignores most of it.

She’s demanding details.

Offering to kick ass.

‘That was fun,’ Chrissy says, eating fries with ketchup, way too much ketchup. ‘Right?’

‘I feel like my lungs are inside out,’ Steve complains.

‘That kid wanted to drop kick me,’ Eddie chimes in. ‘But yeah, super fun.’

‘So, Eddie,’ Chrissy says and he groans internally. ‘You seeing anyone?’

‘No, Chrissy, I’m not,’ he answers, flat and barely able to keep his humour about him.

She’s trying to help, happily meddling, but this thing with Steve, it really does hurt.

Eddie’s been the mistake plenty of times.

He just… really liked Steve.

Too much.

And they sleep in the same room.

They share space.

It’s monstrously awkward.

‘That’s really cool, because Steve isn’t seeing anyone either.’

Robin hides her face in her girlfriend’s shoulder.

‘Deirdre Chambers, what a coincidence,’ Eddie deadpans.

She bursts into a cackle and even Steve has to put his hand over his mouth. ‘Ah, see? C’mon, guys. Give it a shot! At least talk. Talking is good. We love talking, don’t we baby?’ Chrissy asks, nuzzling her girlfriend. ‘You’re so chatty in bed.’

‘Ugh,’ Eddie complains. ‘OK, well, that’s adorable, but I think I’m gonna take off.’

He leaves despite protests, dollar bills on the table. Walks fast, gets outside quickly where he looks around for a cab.

‘Hey, wait up.’

‘Go away, man,’ Eddie says tiredly. ‘Like, it’s all good, just please go away.’

Steve stands in front of him.

‘I’m sorry, she’s weird like that.’

‘It’s cool. I’ll see you later.’

‘Let me drive you back at least.’

‘I’m not going back.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not going back,’ Eddie says blandly, pretending to look for cabs. ‘I’m changing rooms. I can stay with my cousin for a bit until it’s sorted.’

‘Eddie, c’mon.’

‘Nah, not gonna come on, actually. And this bullshit, like they think…’

‘Like they think what?’

‘Like it’s something silly. Like I’m being dumb.’

‘No one thinks that.’

‘Fucking great that you told them, too.’

‘I only… they’re my friends.’

‘Yeah, I get it, don’t worry. I just don’t wanna be dragged along for a fucking meet cute when you already made it super clear you don’t think it’s cute at all.’

Steve looks distraught.

Soft and sad and Eddie thinks good.

‘I fucked up.’

‘Whatever.’

He starts walking away.

Steve follows him.

‘I know I messed it up, you were… you asked me out that time for real and I said it was…’

‘You said it was a mistake,’ Eddie spits, can see a cab up ahead, walks faster. ‘And then you ghosted for like three days.’

‘I was… Eddie, I was really upset about what my parents said. All this vile homophobic bullshit and it—it messed me up. Eddie! Please wait, I’m sorry about this whole thing with the girls, will you please just—’

Eddie whirls around, and Steve stumbles.

‘You only fucked me because I was a slut. A sure thing. You can say it, not like I fucking care! You think my heart’s broken by some basic little bitch like you? Like I… what? Fell in love? Fucking check yourself, you’re delusional.’

‘Eddie.’

‘And sure, that night was fun, it was great, but far as I’m concerned, it didn’t happen. You want it like that, fine, I got no issue, except for your friends acting like we just need to talk or whatever! We did talk! I told you things I never…’

His breath snags hard.

Catches like silk, rips.

Hurts.

Everything with Steve Harrington hurts.

Steve’s face is the mirror of Eddie’s feelings, like they bled together, like they feel what the other is feeling now.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Fuck your sorry. Fuck you, Harrington. I’ll be outta your hair soon enough.’

‘I don’t want you to be.’

Eddie walks away.

Wipes his eyes roughly in the cab.

Calls Carol.

*

It’s three days before Christmas.

Even pre-Christmas with Eddie and Carol’s family is loud, angry and messy.

Drunken Uncles, burnt snacks, a meltdown in the kitchen, a screaming match about Wayne’s funeral three years ago and then on the porch outside, Carol and Eddie are smoking and she says, ‘I’m pregnant,’ and he just kinda stares off into space for a really long time until he says, ‘I’m not marrying you,’ and they both burst out laughing and then she’s crying and he’s hugging her and promising it’ll be OK, the cards didn’t see this coming, did they?

‘Is it that fucker Tommy Hagan’s?’

‘Yeah.’ She wipes her eyes, tosses the butt.

‘You really need to kill him.’

‘I should probably dump him first.’

‘You’ve done that like a million times, hasn’t really taken, babe.’

She eyes him. ‘Will you come with me?’

‘You know I will.’

Inside, something breaks.

Their Grandma screams bloody murder.

She sighs, tremulous and shaky. ‘Happy fuckin’ Christmas, huh?’

‘Could be worse.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘You could have fallen for the guy who called you a mistake.’

Carol shakes her head. ‘Eds.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s all right. It’s all gonna be all right.’

‘Oh yeah? You sound sure.’

‘Cards told me.’

They laugh more.

Keeps them warm at least.

*

It’s Christmas Eve night.

He’s crammed in a room with Carol and the other cousin they don’t like, Barry, who snores.

Eddie’s staring at the ceiling.

His thoughts are all heavy and not good.

It’s late enough that his family, extended family, are finally passed out drunk, so the place is quiet.

The ceiling is dark enough he could pretend it’s the sky, absent of stars.

His phone buzzes.

And when he checks it, an unknown number presents itself.

Hey. Sorry if this is not cool. I got your number from Chrissy. It's Steve by the way.

-S

Eddie reads it twice, snorts.

Can’t help it.

Types back fast.

Don't know what to believe. Steve or -S? Who can tell in this day and age?

The reply comes in quick.

Yeah, sorry, that was dumb. It's OK that I have your number?

It's whatever.

How are you? Haven't seen you in a bit.

Bet you're getting all your work done no problem now I’m not there.

Oh, that’s kinda petulant.

He adds, anyway, better let you get back to it, which is way worse, but he’s too low to care.

I'm not busy. But if you wanna go, that’s completely fine. I’m sorry, maybe this was a mistake.

NO, THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT. PLEASE IGNORE THAT. I'MSTUPUID ANF DIDNY MEAM THAT I PROMISE

Eddie stares at the phone.

Caught between feeling indignant and wholly pissed off, he can’t decide.

Then the phone rings.

He silences it quickly, slings his legs out of bed and heads outside, answering only when he’s in the dark of night, away from Barry and Carol.

‘What do you want?’ he demands.

‘I didn’t mean that,’ Steve blurts out without preamble. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, I swear to god!’

Eddie sighs, arms around himself.

Fucking cold.

‘Whatever man.’

‘No, not whatever. I’m really sorry. Eddie I’m… I’m really sorry about everything. You’ve only ever been so fucking nice to me and I fucked it up.’

‘Uh huh, that about it?’

‘I…’ Steve lets out a tremulous breath that rattles through the signal. ‘I miss you so much.’

Eddie’s jaw works, eyes stinging.

‘Are you there?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I really miss you. I hate that you left. I should be the one to leave, or like … Eddie, I just really miss you. I care about you. I think I—’

‘Stop it.’

‘Eddie—’

‘You’ll regret it. Everybody does, and you… you’re too nice, Steve,’ Eddie says, shakes his head, toeing the frozen ground beneath his bare feet. ‘You’re gonna say something you don’t mean and you’ll regret it.’ Mistake. ‘You’re a nice guy, so save yourself the trouble. We’re fine. Go on with your life and I’ll go on with mine.’

‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’

Eddie closes his eyes.

It’s so unfair.

‘Yeah, well. That’ll pass.’

‘I don’t think it will.’

‘Bad luck on your part, huh?’

‘Doesn’t feel like bad luck.’

‘Yeah, look. I’m with my family, so—’

‘I’m in love with you.’

Eddie goes silent, struck dumb.

‘I’m… I’m sorry if that’s the wrong thing to say again, I just… I have to be honest. That’s where I am. I’m here, being in love with you. Wanting you here, wanting you all the time. Writing your fucking initials at the top of every single piece of paper I touch and replaying every little thing I did wrong. I’ll go away if you say to, but I needed you to know. I’m in love with you, Eddie.’

It’s a really long time before Eddie can breathe enough to make words. His eyes are wet and his heart hurts and this boy… he just brings pain.

It’s not snowing.

Never snows in these parts for Christmas.

The words ring in his ears.

He remembers everything from that night.

‘Merry Christmas, Steve,’ he says, and then ends the call.

*

Christmas morning finds their family yelling about presents and who forgot to get what.

Eddie and Carol are huddled together in the kitchen, rolling their eyes about their shit-show of a family in the other room.

‘Hey, why’d you go outside last night?’ she asks, drinking milk from the bottle.

‘Oh,’ he says, taking the bottle from her when she’s done. ‘Harrington bullshit.’

‘No way!’

‘Yup. This milk’s gone bad, FYI.’

‘Shocker. What did he want?’

‘Eh.’

She stares at him.

‘Shit.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Eddie.’

‘He was probably drunk.’

He can’t bear to see sympathy there in her eyes.

‘Did he…?’

Eddie stares at the floor. ‘He said he was in love with me.’

‘Motherfucker.’

‘Like I said—’

‘He can’t just do that to you!’

‘It’s whatever.’

She stares, narrows her eyes.

‘No, you know what? It’s not whatever. Barry, I’m taking your truck!’ she yells, puts on her faux fur monstrosity and yanks on her high tops while Eddie scrambles to stop her. ‘No, no! I know where this fucker lives, don’t worry! I already Googled—get off me, I’m in a delicate condition!’

‘Gramma, Edward and Carol are fighting!’

‘Shut it, Barry! Eddie, get out of my way. I’m kicking ass!’

*

Steve is making cookies with his Aunty Vee. There’s Christmas music playing in the other room and Steve is… he’s really fucking sad.

‘You wanna talk about it?’ she offers again.

‘I’m OK,’ he says. ‘Just need to eat like a million cookies.’

‘We’re on it, don’t you worry.’

Someone knocks at the door.

They’re pounding it.

Steve and Vienna share a look.

‘You stay here, sweetie,’ she tells him.

‘Vee, no, I—’

‘I got it, honey. Stay right here.’

She marches to the door, grabs the baseball bat off the wall and opens it, presumably prepared to sock her sister and brother in the face before she lets them hurl abuse at their son again.

Only it’s not Steve’s parents.

It’s a very short, very angry girl.

‘Where is he?’ she demands, out of breath, wearing what can only be described as pyjamas under a very fluffy coat. ‘Steve Harrington! Get your ass out here, you’re done!’

‘Hey, whoever you are, take your trashy ass—’

‘Trashy?!’

‘—off my property before I call the cops!’

The girl jumps up to see past Vee and spots Steve, throws an accusatory finger. ‘You! C’mon, fucker! You wanna hurt my cousin, I’ll show you what happens!’

‘Your cousin? Who the fuck—?’

Another car pulls up, almost crashes into the truck Steve thinks belongs to crazy girl and out stumbles Eddie Munson.

He takes a breath. ‘Ah.’

‘CAROL!’ Eddie booms. ‘Get back here!’

‘No, Eddie,’ she yells, ducks past Vee and makes for Steve who takes a full step back. ‘I’m sick of you getting hurt all the time and—and used and mocked! Did you know we drew cards for you, motherfucker? You know how special he is? How fuckin’ great? And you’re out here calling him on Christmas Eve to fuck with his feelings?’

Eddie is reasoning with Aunt Vee to please let him by so he can wrangle his cousin.

‘I—I wasn’t fucking with his feelings!’

‘No? Then where do you get off telling him you’re in love with him? That might be shits and giggles to you, pretty boy, but it’s not fucking funny to mess with people who—who feel a lotta things, you get me? He’s a good guy and you’re just messing with him like he’s your college fling before you settle down with some little suburban bitch and three brats!’

Eddie politely shoves past Vienna, sort of grabs Carol in a bear hug and walks her backwards.

He’s fraught.

‘Hi, sorry,’ he gasps, shaking his head like this is the worst thing that’s ever fucking happened in the world. ‘Babe, let’s just go now, please.’

Carol is crying and fighting.

‘You don’t just get to-to use people and make them think you care! You’re not—that’s not the Christmas spirit, you twat-flap!’

Eddie rolls his eyes hard, grits his teeth.

‘Carol, let’s go, please.’

‘No, Eddie, I won’t let him just—’

‘I do love him,’ Steve says. ‘I love him. Eddie, I love you.’

The words just… come out.

Carol and Eddie are breathless.

Vienna is still holding the bat like she might actually use it at any given moment.

Eddie’s eyes are dark.

Wide.

Steve is filled with knowing.

Concrete certainty.

He loves him.

‘I’m in love with you,’ he tells Eddie, nods to himself, shaking, heart pounding. ‘You told me who you were that night. You showed me. And I’ve loved you ever since. I fucked it up. I was selfish and deep in my own bullshit, but I love you and I’m sorry for what I said. I’m the mistake. I fucked up. You…’ He dares move a step closer. Eddie still has Carol in a bear hug but they’re both staring now, like Steve has gone insane. ‘You’re the perfect one. I’m gone for you, man. Like. Very, very in love. I begged Chrissy to invite you skating and then I was too scared to say what I should have. I love you and I want your number. I mean, I took your number from Chrissy, which feels really wrong now. But I love you. I love you, Eddie. I am so sorry and I love you.’

Slowly, Eddie releases Carol.

He stares at Steve.

‘You…?’

Steve just nods.

Throat full of things, stuffed full like a stocking with cheap, gorgeous gifts.

Vienna clears her throat.

‘Well, does anyone want tea?’

*

They’re walking.

It’s getting dark.

Carol and Eddie stayed for tea, then dinner.

Carol ended up being extremely friendly, apologising for her outburst, darkly blaming issues. Vienna made her soothing teas and held her hand while she talked about some absolute prick named Tommy Hagan and then Eddie cleared his throat, said to Steve, ‘You wanna go for a walk?’

So they’re walking.

It’s frosty cold.

Sun setting early as it does in winter.

Steve is terrified.

‘I fucked up too,’ Eddie says quietly, walking in and out of the yellow from a street lamp. ‘I think uh, may have accidentally called you easy, after that first time.’

Steve shakes his head. ‘I fucked up more.’

‘I brought someone back to the room.’

‘I literally said…’

He doesn’t want to say it again.

They walk in silence.

But Eddie’s hand is warm where is cautiously links with Steve’s own.

‘You should know,’ he whispers at length. ‘That my family is kinda loud.’

Steve laughs, looks away.

‘That’s OK. Mine think I’m a waste of skin. I’ll take yours any day now.’

‘You Aunt seems nice.’

‘No, she is. I just meant—my parents, y’know.’

Eddie’s thumb rubs his knuckles. ‘I know. I’m sorry. Fuck them. You’re perfect.’

Steve shakes his head, breath in his lungs to put behind words of denial, but then Eddie’s lips are on his.

Soft, insistent.

Begging.

Forgiving.

Just a kiss, but Steve thinks it says everything.

‘Still love me?’ Eddie asks in a light whisper, belied by the tremble in it.

Steve nods, swallows thickly.

‘Still very much in love with you.’

‘I’m a hot mess, just so you know.’

‘One outta two, but sure.’

‘I got issues.’

‘Don’t we all?’

Eddie wraps arms around him, nuzzles close.

‘I don’t wanna let you go. Ever. I uh. If I fall, I fall hard. It’s only ever hurt in the past.’

Steve kisses his cheeks, slips a hand into his hair. ‘I hurt you.’

Eddie whispers, ‘I’m in love with you anyway.’

They’re kissing when it starts to snow.

They don’t even notice.

*

The dorm is quiet.

The room was cold, until Eddie lit candles.

Steve loves that he loves candles.

Their bags are by the door.

Beds neatly made. Steve kept Eddie’s side of the room nice, but like he was coming back soon.

And when they kiss, it’s different this time.

It’s been five days since Christmas day.

Five days of texting and calls.

Plans to return days before classes start back up again, they want to just… be here together.

Steve holds him close.

Says, ‘I love you, Eddie Munson,’ and they undress slow and purposeful, learning, mapping, kissing, touching, whispering little secrets, humans are just full of them.

It’s heavy, and it’s difficult.

Treacle thick feels, too sweet, too much.

Steve can’t get enough of it.

He fucks the man he loves, kisses him, makes him come, loves him, he loves him until it shows in his skin, until he tastes salt and cannot tell whose it is.

Theirs.

Everything is theirs now.

Steve won’t let him get away again.

Won’t fuck up.

He’ll be brave, hold close what matters, let go of what doesn’t.

Candles and kisses, sweat slick skin.

Love.

‘I love you, Steve Harrington,’ Eddie utters, his fingers in Steve’s mouth, and it’s grotesquely beautiful, it wrenches things, it makes things move inside that were rusted shut, fixed and sturdy.

Sometimes things have to break down.

People.

Sometimes people have to break down.

He fucks Eddie and he loves him, says it over and over until Eddie is sobbing and they’re clinging, and Steve wants ink in his skin and a ring on his finger and wheels under them, to go wherever they like, together, together always.

And after, come-sticky and orgasm drowsy, they cuddle in bed.

Kissing still.

Soft, gentle.

Sweet.

‘You’re stuck with me now,’ Eddie slurs, falling asleep.

Steve cuddles him closer, kisses his hair. ‘You’re my Tails.’

Eddie snorts, clumsily kisses Steve. ‘Happy New Year, baby.’

Steve smiles, writes I love you in fingertips against Eddie’s lower back over and over.

‘Pretty sure the real New Year is technically in March, according to Robin.’

Eddie sighs.

‘Makes sense. Love you anyway.’

‘Love you more,’ Steve tells him.

They fall asleep that way.

And wake together.

Together.

the end