Chapter Text
••••
The door to the trailer burst open with an unhealthy scream. Poor thing was practically begging for some oil but no one was ever listening. Especially not Steve, who was toeing of his sneakers with a wet squelch and kicked them to join the messy pile of dirty shoes already sitting next to the entryway. Not his trailer, not his problem.
He shook his head, wet drops flying everywhere, the rain from the outside dripping onto the yellowing carpet beneath. Fucking summer rain had caught him totally off guard. He was drenched.
So were the two pizza boxes under his arm but the contents were hopefully still eatable.
He shuffled around, his damp socks leaving the outline of his footprints on the floor.
Guess he'd need a dry set of clothes.
“Start locking you freaking door, Munson. I keep telling you.” he turned the keys from the inside, like a decent human being.
“Imagine I was Jason Carver, man!” he yelled in the rough direction of the couch were he expected the head of the house- or rather trailer hold to be.
Checking himself in the small mirror, dirty with fingerprints all over, he tried to salvage the rest of his usually voluminous hair and gave up after a few seconds, realizing it was a lost cause anyway and he was gonna be too high soon to even care. It was sticking up in various directions, messy wet strands falling onto his forehead.
“Pray tell, what compels me to undertake such a ridiculous mind experiment, Stevie booooooy?” Eddies voice came from further down the trailer, probably his bedroom, yelling like they were in a room full of people and he was the court jester.
There was some ungodly music blaring from there as well, lyrics obnoxiously vulgar and sexual. Something about “On your knees, that's where you ought to be (?)”
Steve shook his head, suppressing the flush that threatened to creep onto his face. Who would listened to that kind of music when other people could hear?
Or was he really too – what had Eddie called him the other week ? - vanilla? Whatever that even meant exactly.
••••
He dropped the pizza onto the coffee table and went to Eddie's bedroom, pushing the door further open.
Aside from being met with the typical Munson fragrance of cigarette smoke and sandalwood there was a heavy, herbal and quite suffocation smell lingering in the air, room half dark with the curtains closed. Eddie was in bed, lying down on his back, head hanging upside down from the mattress, curls touching the floor. His head was slightly red from the blood rushing to it and he was smiling like a maniac, all dimples and wrinkly eyes that grew even more intense as he took in Steve's tousled appearance.
He winked at him like he appreciated what he saw. Weirdo.
Steve felt almost nauseous.
“Holy fuck, man. It smells like armpit in here.” he complained with a wrinkled nose and immediately moved to open up a window.
Eddie lifted a lazy arm into the air, his way too lose cut off top sliding up showing his belly and the fabric hanging so lose Steve could look down the collar and see a nipple.
Eddie tilted his neck to stick his head into the sparse hair of his pit , inhaling with an exaggerated gasp. He was such a disgusting being fella sometime. Steve often wondered how they became such good friends in the first place.
“Wroooooooooooong! “ the metal head suddenly exclaimed, arm still outstretched but now pointed at Steve.
“Smells like victory, big boy. Not armpit. I am freshly showered and smell like a BABY!”
“Oh yeah? Victory? And what did you win exactly?”
“Yoooour company, Stevie. A whoooole evening of ME and YOU!” he giggled like a coy schoolgirl, trying to pull hair over his face like he did sometimes but grabbing air instead since gravity made his curls hang to the floor and he was confused at the position his head was in. He looked confused for a second, lips pulled into a slight “oh” when he realized his mistake. He dropped the arm onto his chest, sheepish grin on his face.
“Why are you wet, Steve-oh?” he asked suddenly, eyes flickering to the small wet pool around Steve's feet. “Sooooo wet” Popping the T in a way that sounded incredibly suggestive. He snickered and rolled around to lie on his stomach , bending his knees and kicking his legs in the air.
Eddie seemed to be – a little m0re out if it than usual. He wasn't a lightweight when it came to weed. This was definitely new. And kind of funny.
What came out of his mouth next just proved his point.
“You gonna strip for me, Harrington? Get into something dry of mine? Or I mean... you don't have to. I won't mind. Promise! ” he gestured to his wardrobe.
The moment of silence was only disturbed by the stereo blaring lyrics of the next obnoxious song.
I start to howl, I'm in heat
I moan and growl, and the hunt drives me crazy
I fuck like a beast [...]
Steve felt too hot. This was the most sexual shit he had ever heard. It was crazy.
“Dude. What the hell?”
“What, pretty boy? You're the one doing a wet T-Shirt contest in my bedroom. I am but a simple man!”
Steve shook his head, laughing a little awkwardly. Eddie was always saying shit to provoke a reaction. But this wasn't even about that. He was actually referring to the song and not Eddie's suggestive talking for once.
He pulled a random band shirt from one of Eddie drawers and a pair of black sweatpants. Keeping his back turned to the metal head he grabbed his own soaked shirt by the back of the collar and pulled it off, dropping it to the floor with a wet thud.
Eddie inhaled in an excessively loud way.
“Shit, Harrington! They should hang you in a freaking gallery. Those back muscles sure are mighty fine art.”
Steve only rolled his eyes and decided not to even comment on that. Instead he put on Eddie's shirt. Too late he realized it was some cropped monstrosity with the sleeves chopped of. It read W.A.S.P. With some kind of saw blade in the background.
Well, he'd made his choice. No turning back now. He quickly changed from his jeans into sweatpants and then moved to deposit his wet clothes in the bathroom over the tub to dry ignoring the fact that a good part of his stomach was now exposed with cropped shirt and low hanging pants.
When he turned around he caught Eddie's very obvious eyes resting on him.
“I gotta lend you my shit more often man, if this is the view I get.” The metal head sounded slightly out of breath, his voice hoarse.
“Quit being ridiculous and get in the kitchen, man. I bought pizza and the movie you requested.”
••••
Steve left and was met with Eddie stumbling over to the couch nearly faceplanting , his lunch box in hand just a moment later. He dropped it onto the coffee table in the most uncoordinated way.
Steve quickly grabbed two beers from the fridge and then joined the metal head on the sofa, not after shoving the VHS into the VCR and grabbing the remote.
Meanwhile Eddie was unboxing the pizza which had miraculously survived the downpour outside.
It was still rainig hard, the drops a constant sound against the thin roof of the trailer. It felt kind of cozy like this. Steve felt like he was exactly where he wanted to be.
“Shit man, this is like peak quality time.” Eddie bit into the greasy cheesy piece he grabbed. Loudly chewing he spoke with his mouse full, gesturing with his pizza piece.
“ You. My fave movie and weed. There is not much room for improvement!”
“Speaking of weed - “ Steve said, eyeing the metal lunch box Eddie had brought.
“Ah shit. Yes. Yeah. You wanna smoke while eating?”
“Sure, man. Light one up.”
“Anything for you, pretty thing.” Eddie's eyes were wide, pupils dilated and staring right into Steve's soul.
Steve snorted. What the freaking hell. This was far beyond the usual flirty undertone he was used to. This was – unhinged.
“You're acting weird.”
The metal head chocked out a laugh, shaking his head with too much force before he realized he was getting dizzy and then immediately stopped.
“Okay, well first I'm not acting.” he corrected, wiggling around a pointer finger like he'd made a very eloquent point.
“I AM weird. 's not an act. I'm the Freak, remember?”
“There is literally nothing freaky about you, your abysmal music taste aside maybe.” Steve argued with owed him a rough shove against his shoulder.
“Asshole!” Eddie complained. “You really don't get to have an opinion on music, Mr. Tears For Fears. Also, you have no fucking clue bout the freaky shit I'm into, Steve. “
“What do you even mean? You know what, scratch that. I don't wanna know...” Steve took a bit from his pizza, while Eddie pulled out a joint from his stash,pre rolled nice and fat.
“The V in Steve still stands for Vanilla, huh?” he mocked and lit the thing up. When he turned around he lost his balance and nearly toppled over into Steve's lap. Uncoordinated bastard. “Whoopsies!” he giggled and leaned back, raising the blunt in the air like he was holding the Holy Grail.
The dude was insufferable sometimes. Also, what was with the vanilla again?
“BEHOLD!” the metal head suddenly shouted, making stupid jazz hands around the joint. Then he leaned in and shoved it right between Steve's lips. He nearly dropped it, because he was so startled but quickly wrapped his fingers around to keep it there and took a long satisfying drag. It tasted way stronger than what he was used too and smelled a lot more potent too.
.
“This, my dear friend, is no regular joint, NO! And probably the reason why I this is hitting a little more than usual. I already smoked one earlier.”
Steve raised a questioning eyebrow but Eddie went on explaining in his best story telling Ren Fair voice.
“This. Is Purple Palm Tree Delight. Straight from Cali. It is of utmost quality, dear skeptic Steven!” He moved to perform an almost half bow while sitting, his face definitely hovering way too low over Steve's lap to be considered acceptable.
“You shall cherish it immensely, princess! It's will make all your worries float right out of that precious head of yours.” He made a weird sparkly motion next to his head. Ridiculous man.
“Sure, man. Whatever you say. Let's just start the movie, kay?” he said and took another drag of the said Purple Palm Tree Delight, feeling it already. He knew instantly this was gonna wreck him.
••••
By the time the pizza was gone Steve was thoroughly baked. They had shared the blunt but it felt stronger than anything he'd ever smoked before. His mind was light but body weighting a ton, glued to the couch. This stuff really hit hard.
It apparently also made his filter for what was socially acceptable to say disappear.
Steve was currently in the middle of gaping at Tim Curry on the TV screen, walking around in the most flamboyant way wearing fishnets, heels and a corset.
“How is that like..objectively hot, man?” he mumbled, taking a sip from his beer can.
He heard Eddie choking next to him, quickly putting his can down on the table clearing his lungs from the liquid that was stuck in his air ways.
“I am pretty sure every heterosexual man would disagree with you on this, Harrington. So it's not all that objectively...” he wheezed slapping a hand against his chest.
“Well, you disagree Munson?” Steve asked.
“Well no. But I am also not part of mentioned peer group. Of course I think he's hot.”
“Huh?” Steve felt a little confused. The hell was a peer group even?
Eddie exhaled in resignation, eye lids half closed.
“I'm not a heterosexual man, Harrington. So I can't speak for them.”
“But dude!” Steve poked a finger into Eddies side, making him jump a little. He'd forgotten how ticklish the man was. “You're not a woman.”
“Oh, clever observation. Truly. 10/10 brain moment.” Eddie gave a lazy thumbs up, tilting his head against the backrest of the couch, overstretching his neck.
Steve found it oddly fascinating. Even more than Tim Curry currently seducing Brad. He wondered if his hand could fit around Eddie's throat. Would it be weird to ask in the name of science? Probably. He had such a tiny neck though. What was wrong with him?
“Then I don't get it.” Steve's pupils were as wide as saucers, looking so incredibly irritated. Like he couldn't add 1 and 1. Also he was still thinking about the average male neck size.
“Steve. I am not heterosexual.” Eddie interrupted his thought spiral and looked back at him, hands slightly shaking. Like he was waiting to be yelled at or something worse.
Steve finally came to a realization, feeling incredibly stupid with how slow his brain was right now.
“Oh! Oh, your gay?”
“As a maypole”, Eddie chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face. He tried to hide it but Steve could tell he was nervous. He didn't really get why though.
“The fuck is a maypole, dude?”
Eddie couldn't help but break out into a hysterical laughter. He sounded like he had trouble breathing, slapping his thigh repeatedly.
“That's what your wondering about? Really? You're unbelievable, man.”
“Well, duh. There is literally nothing to wonder about you being gay, man. I don't mind. Why would I?”
“Uh...Literally everyone minds, Harrington. What the fuck? Need I remind you how people kept writing slurs on my locker and shove me into literal closets in High School? Also, I feel like I need to correct myself a little. I'm not like, 100% gay. It's more of a 90/10 situation I'd say. ”
“Shit man, I'm sorry. I kind of forget people are such stupid assholes. Probably because I used to be one myself back then. I promise I am not anymore though!” Steve took a thoughtful sip of beer, trying to make his brain work. “I..-don't get the last part.”
Eddie looked almost fascinated at him, slightly shaking his head in disbelieve.
“You're really not what I expected, Stevie.”
“Well, thanks? I guess? Also thanks for telling me. Your secret's safe with me, scouts honor and all that.” Steve finished the rest of his beer and leaned sideways against the seat, tilting his whole body in Eddies direction, resting an arm on the backrest of the couch. The movie was almost forgotten in the background.
“So... 90/10? Care to elbow – no..elbaro- fuck man..”
“Elaborate?” Eddie chuckled, amusement clearly visible on his face. Steve always found his dimples to be kind of cute, all wide and unhinged. He nodded, waiting for Eddie to go on.
Freaking Purple Palm Tree Delight was actually frying his brain he felt like.
The arm he had resting on the back of the couch was so close to Eddie's head resting against it that his curls nearly touched his fingers. He felt himself wanting to reach out and bury his fingers in them.
See if they were as soft as they looked.
“Okay so. I am like 90% into guys, but not exclusively. If the vibe's a vibe then I'll go with it. Could be a girl as well. But like..usually it's not. They are a rare exception. So I guess that would make me bisexual not actually gay but eeeeh – tomato toma-to.” he waved a lazy hand around.
“Wait. Wait, wait.” Steve was having trouble catching up. “People like both?!”
“What the hell, Harrington? Who are you? Why are you so adorably naive? Yeah people like both. David Bowie does. And so do I.”
Why had no one ever told Steve that? Why did Robin never mention that? Why was he withheld important information? And why was that important information to him?
“Wha- I...So..How did you figure that out?” he couldn't stop himself asking.
Eddie laughed and tilted his head even further in his direction, essentially nudging his cheek against his palm. He stayed there, grinning and batting his eyelashes at him.
“You see, Stevie. I sucked face with a girl and enjoyed it. And then sucked face with a dude and liked it even better.”
“That – makes sense...” Steve murmured, fingers twitching as they hesitantly traced along Eddies jaw.
“Yeah, pretty boy?”
“Yeah.” Steve's breath hitched. “Wait, so – you were not messing with me but actually being flirty? Like for real?”
Eddie seemed to blush a bit at that. “ Pushing my luck with vanilla straight boys is kind of my thing I guess... It's not like I ever expected anything. I can stop if that makes you uncomfortable now”
“You don't have to stop, man. If - “ Steve wrapped one of Eddie's curls around his fingers and slightly tugged at it, earning him a surprises gasp from the other man. “If – you finally tell me what the fuck you mean by vanilla.”
And that's when Eddie finally lost his shit in a fit of laughter. Actually folding in on himself, gasping for air and sounding like an evil movie villain. It took several minutes for him to calm down. When he finally did he looked at Steve like he was his favorite pet. Like he wanted to teach him a new trick and pet his head after as a reward.
Steve though he'd let him when Eddie reached over to fetch them another joint. He'd let him.
He was fucked, wasn't he?
••••
His inner spiral calmed down after a few drags of the joint. The bud was already significantly shorter now, currently held between Eddie's long ringed fingers, his eyes resting on him like he knew something Steve didn't. It made him feel twitchy but not uncomfortable, sparking curiosity.
When he reached over to take the blunt, Eddie pulled his hand back at the last moment, arm stretched above is head, just out of reach.
“Nuh-uh, big boy” he teased grinning like a Cheshire cat. “You can have it. But- I think you need to earn it.”
“What do you want me to do?” Shit, why did he sound so needy. Steve hoped Eddie didn't notice but judging by his impossible wide grin growing even wider, he did.
“You are asking juuuust the right, questions, aren't ya Stevie? I say you can have it. If you get it from me. Without hands that is. Think you can manage? Then I'll tell you all about what a good vanilla boy you are.”
Steve was frankly a little too high to really think this through. The promise of praise together with the Eddies burning gaze on him made him warm all over. Like he was an ant under a magnifying glass. Exposed. Seen. He liked feeling like that.
So he nodded. “Sure.” accepting the challenge. Not like his jock genes would let him back down anyway.
Eddie looked like a kid on Christmas Eve as he moved to turn towards him, one leg bent, heel tucked under his other leg. The blunt was turned around, correct end facing Steve, held up next to Eddie head as he crossed his surprisingly toned arms over his chest. Playing the guitar and hauling amps and equipment around must be a good workout. He felt the urge to trace the ink on Eddie's arms.
“Hands behind your back, Steve.”
Oh.
Well shit. That strict commanding tone left a tingly feeling right between his legs. His heart rate was picking up, now racing at full speed. Sober Steve would've freaked out about it already. Stoned Steve just rolled with it, obediently grabbing his left wrist with his right hand, securely holding his arms locked behind him.
It felt – good. A little floaty, a little crazy. Like he was about to go on a roller coaster blindfolded. Not knowing when he'd drop.
“Like that?” he asked with a hoarse voice shuffling around to get to a kneeling position.
Eddie looked like he approved, eyelids heavy from the weed, cheeks slightly flushed.
“Shit, yeah that's it.” he praised, tone sweet but laced with a kind of wicked undertone. “Now come here and get what you want, Steve.”
What he wanted was definitely not think about how this was completely inappropriate behavior between friends. And how he shouldn't be doing that with a dude. How his father would beat him to a pulp. And how he really really fucking wanted to do this anyway.
••••