Archive of Our Own ^beta

*****

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart

But the very next day, you gave it away

This year, to save me from tears

I'll give it to someone special

*****

December 19th, 2022

Steve’s relationship with Christmas had always been tenuous, to say the least.

Years spent being carted to and from Christmas parties with relatives he only saw once in a blue moon only for his parents to spend the entire time lying about his accomplishments had left him with nothing more than a sour taste in his mouth when the twinkling lights began to emerge around Chicago. He was twenty-three in his fourth year in the windy city, and he was doing everything humanly possible to avoid all manner of festivities in a town that seemed dead set on ruining his plans. It seemed to Steve that every radio station had been set to re-runs of holiday tunes, and he couldn’t turn a corner without being affronted by some tinsel-covered monstrosity. The air had turned cold months ago, but something about the December chill had an extra bite that year – like the weather and the collective holiday spirit had conspired just to make him miserable.

It didn’t help that this was the first Christmas he would be suffering through since his ex-girlfriend had snatched up his self-esteem and taken off running the year before.

Megan had been the love of his life, or so he had thought, with honey-blonde hair and green eyes that made Steve think of the grassy hills outside of Hawkins. Steve was infatuated, totally love-struck from the first moment he saw her. They had met at the coffee shop Steve had worked at when he first moved with Robin to the city, her career as a student at Northwestern just beginning, Steve clinging to her like a limpet because he didn’t know where else to go. Codependent, his therapist had told him once, back when he was still seeing a therapist. And while she was probably right, he wasn’t about to give up the best thing that had ever happened to him just because someone with fancy degrees on her walls thought the way he and his best friend showed up for each other was a little weird. Years down the line, he often thought about what she would have made of the whole Megan debacle.

The first moment that Steve laid eyes on her twisting curls, her face drawn up in distress as she mopped up the latte she had just dumped all over some poor grad student’s papers, he knew that she was something special. He made it his business to get to know her, taking more shifts than he could realistically manage to get the chance to work alongside her. He turned on his Harrington brand charm, marveling at the way she giggled when he would fuck something up royally – so enchanted by her constant propensity towards laughter. She was lighter than air, soda pop bubbles that fizzed in his heart and had him skipping down the street in broad daylight. When he kissed her for the first time at Navy Pier under the neon lights of the Tilt-o-Whirl, he thought to himself that he had never been more in love than he was in that moment, lips pressed against a coat of cherry lip-gloss with her perfume lingering in the air.

They dated for three years, a layer of domesticity spreading over their relationship that Steve welcomed with open arms. He thought about asking her to move in with him more times than he could count, but his girl was independent, and she liked her space – something she made very clear the first time he had mentioned getting a place together. In hindsight, which was always so tragically twenty-twenty, Steve probably should have known that the wheels were coming off the bus the moment he stopped considering the possibility of them sharing space. Megan had her life, and he had his, and in the years they were together, they settled quietly into a rhythm of dipping in and out of each other’s territory. Megan came to the Christmas parties his boss hosted when Steve got hired on as a camp coordinator at their local YMCA, and he would meet up with her and her friends for dinner every couple of weeks. He loved her, of course he did, but he shouldn’t have been surprised when her face had contorted into something pained when he presented her with a diamond ring on Christmas Eve. He had been saving up for it for months, putting a little away bit by bit until he could afford what he thought she would like.

A little slow to the draw, perhaps, his first thought when he beheld her expression was that he had picked out the wrong cut. That it wasn’t what she wanted.

What had been harder to grapple with was the inevitable realization that he wasn’t what she wanted. Not forever, at least.

As if the holidays hadn’t been hard enough before, Megan walked out of Steve’s life on Christmas Eve in 2021, taking every scrap of his dignity along with her in her manicured hands. They hadn’t shared so much as a word since – no need to coordinate drop-offs for items left behind when Megan had never even kept a toothbrush at his apartment. But the worst part of it all, frankly, was that Steve hadn’t seen it coming, which made the whole thing that much more awful. Robin was there to pick him up off the metaphorical ground, flitting about and worrying over him when he came home early with a terrifyingly blank look on his face from what she had assumed would be the best night of his life. Eddie had been there too, witnessing the worst of it, having moved in just months before.

It was only slightly mortifying for the man to have to witness Steve fall apart so quickly after they had reunited again, but it was truly all Steve could do to even get himself out of bed in the morning for several weeks after the event. Robin had all but put her holiday plans on hold to help him wade through his own despair, staying up late on Christmas Eve to hold his hand and pet his hair while he cried stupid, useless tears into his pillow for a relationship that might have been doomed from the start. Eddie had brought them dinner in Steve’s room, a rich soup that he had made the night before, and the three of them sat on Steve’s bed, slurping down broth and telling funny stories to try to chase the hollowness away. It was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him, and he felt like complete shit about it – still did, even a year later.

Which is why, when Robin asked if he would be willing to go with her and her new girlfriend to the ice rink, he was hard pressed to say no. Robin had been seeing the girl, Sylvia, for a few weeks, but Steve had yet to meet her. He had heard a lot about her, of course, Robin was never one to withhold any amount of details when she was smitten – like a dog with a bone, that one. But she looked so excited, freckled face all lit up with the prospect of her new honey and her other half sharing an enchanting night on the ice.

“Come on, maybe it’ll lift your spirits!” She encouraged, fingers twined with his while she shook their clasped hands excitedly. They were standing by the sink in the kitchen, a glass of water in Steve’s hand. “Maybe you’ll find the fun of Christmas again, ever thought about that?”

“I think the only thing I’ll find is my ass on the ice,” Steve grumbled, trying not to give in too much from the get-go, even though he knew that, ultimately, he could never deny her anything.

“Don’t be such a grinch, babe,” she admonished, tugging at his hand, and then, a little softer, “Please do this for me. I know the holidays aren’t really your thing, and I get that, but it would really mean a lot to me.”

He sighed, gazing down at their entwined hands, her blue nail polish already chipped at the tips. She had only put it on the day before, her legs propped up in his lap while they watched tv, Eddie seated across from them in his usual chair leafing through a novel.

Eddie, who was sitting at the kitchen table watching their whole interaction take place, shuffling a deck of cards while they got ready to sit down for a game of poker.

Eddie, who finally piped up and said, “I’ll go with you. If you’re not keen on third-wheeling.”

“Wait, holy shit, that’s a great idea,” Robin said to him, a grin spreading across her face, then turned back to Steve, tugging at his hand once again. “Eddie can come, and then we can have an even number. The two of you can, like, talk about guy stuff or whatever.”

Eddie snorted, tapping the cards against the table. “Oh yeah, loads of guy stuff. We’ll totally man out, won’t we, Harrington?” The corner of Steve’s mouth twitched, the beginnings of a smile drawn to life by the twinkle in Eddie’s eyes. The whole picture was just a little bit funny, he and Eddie slinging arms around each other, patting roughly and grunting about things like sports and beer – completely opposite from the little life of domesticity that had grown in their three-bedroom apartment on the second floor. Glaringly contradictory to the image of Eddie that had solidified since the two of them had started sharing space.

Eddie Munson had been a force of nature in high school, the kind of kid who leaned into the taunts and sunk his teeth into the lies just to curate the kind of wide berth that afforded him a strange sort of protection. Steve remembered Eddie getting in trouble for things like tattoos and a lazy attitude, but the dark-haired boy had always been a sweetheart deep down – something Steve had come to know in the months after their small town nearly split in half. He put on a big show, threw his weight around and monologued until the people around him relented, but at the end of the day, he couldn’t help who he was.

Eddie Munson was kind, and brave, and loved with a tenacity that left a person feeling seen. He wore his leather jackets, boots clanking softly with chains when he walked, but he was inherently soft at his core. Tender and caring around people like Robin and Steve, well-loved and comfortable in the confines of his own home. Steve got to watch all of his defenses come down one by one, replaced by the truest parts of him that shone like silver in the light of their collective affection. It was a wonder that Steve had ever been without him, the older man quickly becoming one of his closest friends and confidants.

They shared secrets, sat up late at night in the warm glow of Eddie’s desk lamp while Steve flipped through a magazine, and Eddie read his books. Quiet became comfortable, the steady sound of breath enough to fill the space in only a matter of months. Shared trauma, Nancy had told him once when he had mentioned the phenomenon to her on the phone, but Steve couldn’t help but think it was more than that. Like he had been walking the earth with an Eddie-shaped hole in his heart, and he couldn’t ever have hoped to be full without their friendship resting safe and solid in his life. When his relationship had blown up in his face, Eddie had been there to help him pick up the pieces, offering an arm around Steve’s waist, or a lap to rest his head in.

“I’m going to take your silence as a yes unless you say otherwise,” Robin said, eyebrows climbing her forehead steadily.

“Alright, fine, I’ll go,” he finally relented, not able to help the smile that bloomed on his face as Robin took his hand in both of hers and shook it violently between them in thanks.

*****

He wasn’t smiling the following day at the ice rink. He was, in fact, feeling extraordinarily grumpy, having just finished up a long day at work only to be whisked off to an activity that he wasn’t particularly keen on in the first place. Holiday festivities only served to remind him of how much he’d lost and how much he never had in the first place. He knew he was a buzzkill during the winter season, knew he was a scrooge, but he couldn’t seem to help the hollow feeling that quickly took over his chest the moment Mariah Carey started playing in the department stores.

Christmas had been one of Megan’s favorite holidays, and he’d put on a cheerful face for her when they were together, but now in the absence of her presence, Steve didn’t think he had it in him to pretend that he was anything less than completely miserable. He had spent the entire car ride to the rink trying to work himself up into a good mood, but all of his efforts had fallen flat the moment he laid eyes on the gaudy Christmas décor – on the gaggles of friends and families grinning and tugging each other across the ice. He was altogether fed up with the whole affair before they’d even rented their skates.

Robin, on the other hand, was beaming, all nervous energy and fast-moving limbs, sneaking not-so-subtle glances at Sylvia as they pulled ice skates over their warm winter socks. Steve sat by Eddie not far off, struggling with the laces on the front of his skate and swearing under his breath.

“You need some help with that?” Eddie asked, already kitted out on the bench next to him and waiting for Steve to finish.

“No,” he grumbled back, fingers working uselessly to figure out which loop he needed to pull to make the mechanism work. He took a risk and yanked at a stretch of lace, which only ended up making one side drastically longer than the other. He swore quietly again.

“Sylvia seems sweet,” Eddie commented, and Steve followed his gaze to where the girl was helping Robin onto the ice, her arm bent at a ninety-degree angle for Robin to hang onto, not that it would do any good. Robin had the physical grace of a newborn foal, which she demonstrated promptly by nearly falling, only managing to avoid a collision with the ice below by clutching onto the other arm that Sylvia offered her.

“She does, yeah,” Steve agreed, turning his attention back to his impossible lace situation. “Did you see the way she opened the car door for Robin? Chivalry’s not dead, apparently.”

“Safe and sound in the hands of bumbling lesbians,” Eddie sighed affectionately, and Steve couldn’t help but snort, a brief reprieve from his frustrations. He yanked on another stretch of lace and managed to dislodge it entirely, an annoyed groan sliding from his throat.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Steve snapped, sitting back and throwing his hands in the air. “Can’t get the goddamn laces to work. Who made these things, Einstein?” He scrubbed his hands down his face, managing to drag a few locks of hair down onto his forehead. He must’ve looked entirely pitiful, if what people could see from the outside looked half as stupid as he felt.

“You want help now?” Eddie asked, voice a little tentative, and when Steve glanced over at him, he clocked the way that Eddie was trying not to smile. Asshole.

“Yes,” Steve sighed, defeated. He had been disenchanted with the whole idea before they even piled into the car to drive over, but he was quickly deciding that ice skating might be his least favorite wintertime activity. Eddie pulled himself off of the bench, crouching down in front of Steve’s knees, his pretty brown curls falling into his eyes as he ducked his head to attend to Steve’s skate. Steve felt an itch in his hand, a sudden urge to reach out and brush his fingers through those dark locks. He’d been getting similar urges a lot lately, much to his dismay.

Like the night before, when the three of them had been playing poker at their kitchen table, and he had nearly grazed his fingers over the top of the ones that Eddie was drumming on the surface of the table, all at once drawn by the new ring that glittered on his index finger. He had caught himself before his hand reached its unwitting target, played it off like he was reaching into the bowl of chips that they had laid out, but the thought of what that new ring might feel like between his knuckles had been oddly insistent. So much so that Steve had strayed away from Eddie’s personal space on purpose the rest of the night.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to touching Eddie. The three of them, including Robin, had never been strangers to physical contact, always bumping into one another in their tight kitchen and piling like puppies onto the couch. But this was distinctly different, Steve thought – new in a way that had him feeling slightly untethered.

“There. See? Just needed some elbow grease,” Eddie declared, wrapping a hand around Steve’s ankle to raise his foot and present his work.

“Guess this means I actually have to skate,” Steve mused, the corner of his mouth bunching up in disapproval. Eddie gave him a smile, put his hands on Steve’s knees, and used the leverage to help himself stand. Once he was up, he offered a hand to Steve, which Steve took on instinct.

“Come on, Harrington, I won’t let you fall.”

*****

As it turned out, Eddie Munson was a dirty rotten liar.

The whole thing had started off innocently enough, the older man keeping his hand locked tight with Steve’s while the two of them wobbled out onto the ice like baby deer. Neither of them were particularly adept at skating, which became clear very quickly when Eddie’s right foot went out from under him, abruptly sending him careening towards the ice. He landed with a harsh thud on his ass, letting out a hiss and he rubbed at his tailbone with gloved fingers. Steve tried not to laugh, he really did, but he looked so pitiful sitting there, small children gliding past him with no trouble at all. A very well-meaning tot even approached Eddie and asked him if he was okay, which only made Steve laugh harder behind the cover of his hand.

It was when Eddie managed to pull himself back upright that all hell broke loose. He went straight for Steve, an evil glint in his eye that had Steve frantically toddling away, hands out in front of him to help his balance while he cackled in panicked delight. Eddie was relentless, though, and soon had Steve by the waist, throwing both of them off balance and pulling them in slow motion to the ground. Steve shoved at Eddie’s arms around him, reveling in how good it felt when Eddie only pulled him closer. They helped each other up shortly after, but it wasn’t long until the game resumed, each of them chasing the other around the rink, causing utter chaos as they attempted to thwart the other’s balance.

By the time they all loaded back into the car, cheeks rosy from the cold, Steve was in a brilliantly good mood, heart full of laughter from childish antics. He was in such a good state of mind that he didn’t even complain when Robin suggested they take a drive to look at lights.

*****

Much to his chagrin, Robin managed to bully them all into sitting down to watch a Christmas movie when they made it back to the apartment, despite Eddie’s protests of an early morning shift. With a front row seat to the power of Robin’s puppy dog eyes, now turned on someone else for a change, Steve felt a little less foolish about his own tendency to cave to her every whim. Sylvia offered to help him make hot chocolate at Robin’s behest, his best friend shooting him a purposeful look that screamed don’t fuck this up for me before they disappeared into kitchen together. She was a nice girl, Sylvia – kind and quick to laugh. A little bit awkward, much like Robin, but slightly more sure of herself.

Steve was stirring hot chocolate mix into a pot of milk on the stove when their conversation reached a natural lull, the two of them falling into silence as Sylvia pulled glasses down from one of the cabinets, pouring shots of peppermint Schnapps into each – a little heavy-handed, but Steve wouldn’t say anything.

“I think Robin likes you,” Steve offered, retreating back to the comfortable territory of their shared friend.

“God, she better,” Sylvia blurted, like the words had been sitting on her tongue for hours and were finally finding their release. And then, a little more reserved, “I’m kind of crazy about her.” Steve smiled, chest warming to the sound of someone else loving on his soulmate. She deserved so much, his Robin, her reluctant affection so bottomless that Steve could only ever feel wonderfully held in her presence, even when she was miffed at him. Which was often.

“She’s a keeper,” Steve confirmed, giving the girl a genuine smile over his shoulder.

*****

Their couch was only big enough to sit three across, so Steve settled down between Eddie’s knees, leaving room for Sylvia to sit beside Robin. He shifted on the threadbare carpet as the movie began to play, thinking about all the ways he would reap the brownie points later, when he felt a brush of fingertips against the back of his head. Eddie’s fingertips. And for a moment, Steve held still, wondering if he had imagined it. But then he felt it again, the tell-tale tingle on his scalp as Eddie’s fingers trailed through his hair. There was no way to ignore the fluttering in his chest as he leaned into the touch, chasing the feeling of hands in his hair. He’d always loved to have his hair played with – used to lay in Megan’s lap and ask her to pet his head when she was reading.

“This okay?” Eddie asked quietly behind him, and Steve nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. God, he was starved for it. The opening credits rolled, but Steve was paying little to no attention to the words on the screen, all of his focus drawn to the feeling of Eddie’s fingertips in his hair, his blunt nails scratching lightly at Steve’s scalp. It was a discreet thing, he thought. Robin and Sylvia probably wouldn’t even be able to tell that the two of them were touching, but every graze felt like a tidal wave, welling up wet and thick in his chest, spreading calm through his bones. Something essential inside him unclenched, set adrift in the placid waters.

He relaxed into the couch as the moments passed by, Eddie’s knees on either side of his shoulders, bracketing him while he sipped at his spiked hot chocolate. Eddie’s fingers smoothed across the longer locks at the back of his head, the shorter hairs on the side facing away from the girls, goosebumps trilling up his arms and legs when Eddie’s nails dragged along his scalp, perfect sensation mixing with the booze quickly flooding his bloodstream. It was a strange thing, if he dared examine it. It was a very, very strange thing to be transpiring, and he would most definitely have to put some serious thought into it later. But at that particular moment, all he could focus on was the way Eddie’s hands felt so good in his hair – like the older man was working care into his follicles, soothing a long-neglected part of him that ached horribly for physical touch. Robin never shied away from contact, but it was still hard to ask. Steve had never been very good at asking for what he needed.

The movie passed by on the screen in bright flashes of color, but Steve could feel his eyelids growing heavy, the sweet tug of sleep beckoning him with gentle fingers – just like the ones combing softly through his hair. He let his head fall against Eddie’s knee, the warmth of his skin through his jeans like a balm that Steve didn’t know he’d been needing. He pressed his cheek into the material, nuzzled lightly, and fell asleep to the feeling of Eddie’s fingertips dancing across the hair at the nape of his neck.

*****

He awoke to a hand brushing against his cheek, light and lazy like the owner of the touch was in no hurry. Steve sucked in a breath as wakefulness descended violently upon him, head pushing off of where he was resting it to glance around the room with sleep-heavy eyes – struck by the barest edge of panic that always seemed to surface when he fell asleep in odd places. Like a small part of his waking brain would always flash to ropes cutting sharp lines into his torso, and Robin’s back pressed up against his while she dragged him to consciousness with her voice.

The sharp panic ebbed, though, as he assessed the room. The tv. The high-backed chair that he and Robin had picked up from an estate sale the first month they’d lived in Chicago, its ugly floral pattern bringing back memories of Robin arguing about its inherent charm until Steve had caved, like he always did, and forked over the thirty dollars. A steep price, if you asked him. His eyes made a full sweep around the room. The record player. Their collage wall of shitty artwork they continued to amass. Eddie’s sock-clad foot resting next to his hip.

Eddie’s fingers had stilled the moment he shot up from his resting place, but they resumed their wandering as he sank back against the older man’s knee, let himself go boneless under the touch.

“What time is it?” Steve asked around a yawn, the vowels stretched into strange shapes.

“Ten-thirty,” Eddie replied, the backs of his fingers skimming across the joining of Steve’s shoulder and neck. “I dare say you’re turning into an old man, Stevie.” His tone was light, teasing in a way that echoed comfortability. Steve searched for a retort, something quick witted to flip back, but his brain was too sleep-fogged to come up with anything sufficiently biting.

So he just mumbled, “Shut up,” and rolled his head to press his nose into the fabric of Eddie’s jeans.

“How ya doing’ down there?” Eddie asked, his hand back in Steve’s hair, threading through his locks with slow movements.

“Mm. Warm,” Steve hummed, the sound coming out as more of a whine than anything, his nose pressed up hard against Eddie’s knee.

“Anyone ever told you that you’re a cheap date, Harrington? A couple drinks and you’re falling asleep on my lap,” he mused, a smile tinging his tone with soft shades of teasing. Steve rolled his face free once more.

“Why, am I bothering you?” He asked, not daring to admit to the test he was administering — feeling the inklings of insecurity prickle at the back of his mind. Because, really, what the hell were they doing here? Steve’s cheek heavy against Eddie’s knee, Eddie’s fingers twirling through his locks. Loving, and sensitive, and odd, even though they were no strangers to touching. Eddie’s nails grazed down the length of Steve’s shoulder, his muscles lengthening into the touch, and Steve felt…

He wasn’t sure what he felt. Whatever it was, it was inconceivably warm, fluttering around the edges, like a delicate, caged bird in his chest.

“Not one bit,” Eddie answered quickly, the sudden honesty of the sentiment making Steve feel briefly unmoored. If Eddie registered the depth of the moment, he didn’t let on, just continued stroking down Steve’s shoulder as he spoke again. “Robin’s taking Sylvia home. Let’s get you to bed, huh babe?”

Steve nodded against Eddie’s leg, face pressed once again into denim where he felt the safest. Eddie’s hand moved to slide in between Steve’s cheek and his knee, cradling his head briefly while he shuffled up from the couch. Steve let the older man clasp his hand and draw him to his feet, even if he realistically didn’t need the help. He accepted it anyway, because Eddie was the one giving it. Because Eddie’s attention had never felt forced. He let Eddie usher him down the hallway, a hand on his lower back – let himself revel in Eddie’s no-strings-attached brand of care just for a fleeting moment, because the holiday season always left him running on empty.

“’Night, Stevie,” Eddie murmured when they reached Steve’s bedroom, his fingers tightening briefly on the small of his back before he was pacing down the hallway, disappearing into the warm glow of his bedroom. Steve wondered briefly if Eddie would think it weird for him to follow, a distinct craving for more of those gentle touches rising pathetically in the back of his throat, but he shoved away the thought and took himself to bed instead, shivering under the sheets until his body finally warmed the fabric.

December 20th, 2022

When he awoke the next morning, Eddie was already gone, an unsettling feeling of disappointment settling in Steve’s stomach to find the kitchen devoid of his frizzy hair and loopy morning smile. Steve poured himself a cup of coffee, mixing two spoonfuls of sugar into the bitter liquid. Robin, who was seated at the kitchen table working her way through a bowl of cereal, waited all of ten seconds before she launched into a vivid description of the ride home she had given to Sylvia, complete with graphic detail about how the two of them had kissed in the car in front of Sylvia’s apartment.

“I think I’m falling in love with her,” she lamented, head falling into her hands as she scratched ruthlessly at her scalp. “Are we moving too fast? I feel like we’re moving too fast.” She peered up at him through the cracks between her fingers, as if she was afraid he might judge her and she wanted some semblance of a shield.

“Why do you think that?” Steve asked, pushing a hand through his bed head, already stationed in a comfortable lean against the countertop.

“Because— I mean, I don’t know! How are these things even supposed to work?” She was gesticulating wildly, hands flailing close to her face before she laid them down on the table with a soft smack.

“I don’t think I’m the best judge of how successful relationships should or shouldn’t pan out.” Robin angled her gaze at him, her features falling into a mildly sardonic expression.

“Ouch, babe, you hurt your own feelings with that one?” She asked. Steve regarded her flatly over the edge of his coffee cup, and she rolled her eyes theatrically. Always so theatrically.

“Don’t look at me like that, pouty lips. What if your face freezes that way? However will you snag the next babe if you look chronically like you’ve smelled a bad smell?”

Steve couldn’t help but crack a smile, grateful for the way Robin was always ready to provide levity, especially when he got to feeling shitty about himself.

“Sylvia. Does she make you smile?” He asked, turning the conversation on a more serious edge.

“I feel like I can’t stop smiling when she’s around,” Robin groaned, like it was a bad thing. “I probably look psychotic, honestly.”

Steve smiled, setting his mostly empty coffee cup in the sink, and made his way over to Robin, dropping a kiss to the top of her head as he passed her by on his way back to his bedroom.

“I don’t think you’re moving too fast,” he said into her hair, and though she swatted his face away, leaning away from his touch, Steve caught the reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

*****

Legs shoved into jeans and feet shoved into boots, the kind thick enough to survive a Midwestern winter, Steve headed off to work. The gym was crawling, what with it being freezing outside. Steve watched families shuffle through the doors all day long, stamping their snow boots on the entry mats and tracking water all over the goddamn floors. With sports being done for the season, Steve spent most of the day at his desk working on spreadsheets for the upcoming season. By the time he trudged back through the door to the apartment, it was already dark outside. He shucked out of his boots, not bothering to set them on the shoe rack, which he knew Robin would chew him out about later. He padded through the entryway, senses alerted to the smell of someone cooking. When he peered around the corner into the kitchen, he found Eddie standing at the stove stirring something in one of their big silver pots.

Steve approached, drawn by the instant magnetism of his friend’s sweatshirt-clad form and the enticing smell of whatever was bubbling on the stove. He brushed off the hairbrained urge to wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist, press his nose into the back of his neck where his hair was pulled up into a loose bun, and breathe in deep. Instead, he dropped his keys onto the counter and sidled up next to his friend, pressed his shoulder up against Eddie’s – that was normal enough.

“Whatcha making?” he asked, peering over the lip of the pot.

“Chicken noodle soup,” Eddie replied, making no move to push him off.

“Is someone sick?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Huh. I think I’ve only had chicken noodle soup when I’m sick,” Steve said, watching the wooden spoon travel through the soup. “It was, like, the one thing I remember my mom doing for me when I was under the weather. If she was home, that was.”

“What happened when she wasn’t home?” Eddie asked, innocent enough, but there was an edge of worry evident in his tone. Worry, not pity. Steve would know the difference. He’d been on the receiving end of enough well-meaning sympathy to know the slimy feeling of it in his guts when it came.

“If I was sick?” He thought back, conjuring up images of strep throat, stomach flus, and all manner of illnesses he caught from being at daycare so often. He remembered one particular instance when his fever had been so high that he felt like his skin was melting off. He had drawn himself a bath, something that his mom had done for him before, but the hot water had only succeeded in making him unnervingly dizzy. He remembered pulling a couch cushion over and leaning against the cool doors of the refrigerator until he fell asleep there, his parents somewhere on the East Coast for a weekend conference. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

“I got through it, I guess,” he said, shuffling the memory back into the recesses of his mind where it belonged. The line of heat forming between he and Eddie’s arm was comfortable, lovely and warm on his wind-chilled skin. Eddie hadn’t made a move to push him off, so he took a chance, leaning further into Eddie’s side, his head dropping to rest on the older man’s shoulder, just a little bit bony under the soft fabric of his sweatshirt.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Eddie said, no hint of condescension in his tone – just bare, unfiltered care. Eddie raised an arm behind Steve, sliding it around his waist and anchoring him close, and Steve leaned heavy into the gesture, let his eyes slip shut just for a moment. Greedy for comfort in the wake of bad memories.

Steve heard the front door open, the tell-tale jingle of Robin’s obnoxiously large keychain collection, and he reluctantly pulled away from Eddie’s side, feeling immediately cold in all the places Eddie’s body had pressed up against his. Robin grinned at him when she entered, squeezed his hand and asked him how his day was, but Steve wished he could be back up against Eddie’s side by the stove, quiet and comfortable in the warmth of his orbit.

December 21st, 2022

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. When the picture popped up on his feed, he should have just scrolled right past it and let bygones be bygones, but Steve was nothing if not a little masochistic – a little addicted to his own suffering. His ex’s face gazed up at him from behind her splayed fingers, a big fat diamond glittering on her finger while a man he’d never seen before kissed her on the cheek fervently. The post read:

Almost a year with my other half. Forever to go.

Steve’s first thoughts ranged from who the fuck is this guy, to she must have cut her hair, his attention finally settling on the time parameters. Almost a year? He and Megan hadn’t spoken since she had walked out of his life on Christmas Eve, and now he was having to find out via social media that the woman he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with fell into it with some other guy directly after their parting? Steve didn’t even know that she had been dating — had gotten mostly radio silence on his end. She was never one to post about her life, even when they were together.

Which. Okay, maybe it was a kindness that she hadn’t broadcasted the state of her romantic affairs in the months since they’d been separated. She could be sardonic, even a little mean-spirited sometimes, but she was never cruel. She was always quick to apologize, as it was, and Steve’s heart was nothing if not doggedly loyal — never one to hold a flippant comment against anyone that showed him an ounce of love. As he scrolled through the photos, however, studying the glowing smile on Megan’s face against his better judgement, he got the district impression that this hurt would be sticking around.

He had the day off, which meant he spent nearly the entirety of the afternoon moping around the apartment feeling distinctly small. Insignificant. He tried to watch tv, even tried to read a book, for Christ’s sake, dyslexia be damned. But every time his mind drifted away from the task, he was brought right back to Megan’s smiling face and the rock on her finger.

Almost a year with my other half.

Had he really meant so little to her? Was it so easy for her to move on? He curled up on the couch under one of their knitted blankets, feeling miserable, squeezing his knees to his chest like he could flatten his feelings into a more manageable shape against the planes of his chest. Hours rolled by, and he didn’t eat, couldn’t find an ounce of appetite within him. Instead, he parked himself on the couch, turned on the tv just to have some noise, and let himself spiral.

By the time Eddie came through the door, he was half-asleep, the sheer exhaustion of shuffling through his emotions all day catching up to him. Eddie’s cheeks were pink from the cold, and he gave an audible shiver as he stepped through the doorway, stamping what was left out the snow on his boots onto their doormat. He smiled at Steve from the doorway, and Steve gave his best attempt at a smile back.

Eddie crouched down to unlace his boots, pulling them off and setting them heavily on the shoe rack. Robin would be pleased. It took him a full thirty seconds to unwind himself from his various scarves and coats until he was down to nothing but his jeans and a knit grey sweater.

“Fucking freezing out there,” he clipped out, shoulders shaking to demonstrate.

‘How was work?’ Steve wanted to ask, but he found his tongue atrophied from hours of disuse, heavy and useless in his mouth. His head was starting to pound, definitely a consequence of not eating anything all day. God, he was pathetic. He curled further into himself, leaning his head against one of his knees as he studied Eddie, who had slipped his phone out of his back pocket to check something, still in the entryway.

“Hey, you okay?” His friend asked when he glanced up at Steve, the barest hint of concern blooming in his features. Steve resisted the urge to make actual grabby hands at him, all at once consumed by the unquenchable desire to have him near — to bask in his quiet comfort. Anything to fill the horrible emptiness stretching hollow and dark in his chest.

Instead, he just nodded and said “‘M fine.” Because Steve’s track history with asking for what he needed was not exactly stellar. The last time he’d asked Megan to hold him, the night after he’d had a particularly big fight with his parents about college and whether or not he was ever going to go, she’d reluctantly agreed. But it was brief, and he could tell she was uncomfortable with the whole thing, her hands awkward on his back, so he’d smiled, and kissed her, and told her that he was okay. The relief that flooded her face at his words was all the evidence Steve needed to never ask her for something like that again.

“You sure? You look…rough,” Eddie said, raising a thumb to his mouth to bite at the corner – a habit he had yet to kick, even after Robin had started getting on his case about it.

“Just tired, man. Seriously, I’m fine,” he assured, thinking quietly to himself that he wouldn’t be able to stand it if Eddie backed away from him, someone he treasured so deeply. Better to not ask in the first place than suffer the sting of rejection. Steve already felt so horribly small.

Eddie’s mouth bunched at the corner as he pushed his phone back into his pocket, pacing across the room to sink down on the couch next to Steve. The sudden proximity was difficult, Steve’s whole body twitching to lean into him.

“Steve,” he said, so softly that Steve could feel the cracks forming in his fragile heart — the lump in his throat growing fast. Steve turned his head, resting his forehead against his knee where he wouldn’t be tempted to look at those brown eyes, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hold back if he saw the depth of Eddie’s care swimming there.

“Something happened, I can tell. Will you let me in?”

As if Steve ever had to let Eddie Munson in. As if the older man hadn’t come careening into his life when he was nineteen, all wild hair and deadly smiles, taking up space in Steve’s heart like he was born to fill it. But still, Steve shook his head against his knee, hair falling into his face. He was glad for the cover, felt a little bit like Eddie would get it out of him eventually, but at least now he could prolong the inevitable.

He felt a hand on his shoulder blades, the heavy weight of Eddie’s palm as he rubbed back and forth in searching circles. The chill still clung to Eddie’s skin, and Steve could feel it through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

“Baby,” he said quietly, and Steve’s heart cracked, tears stinging the backs of his eyes to hear such a term of endearment slide forth from Eddie’s lips. Steve sucked in a breath, tried to calm the storm in his heart to little avail and fumbled for his phone on the cushion next to him. He unlocked it, handing it wordlessly to Eddie, who took it with his free hand, the other still resting solidly on Steve’s back. He turned his head away, not wanting to watch Eddie’s face when he realized how pitiful Steve was being.

“Jesus, that’s some rock,” Eddie commented, and Steve almost wanted to laugh — the situation so utterly ridiculous that he couldn’t help but be tickled. Because of course that’s what Eddie had zeroed in on, and here Steve was falling to pieces over the implications, desperate for that hand on his back to turn into something more. He wanted to lean hard into Eddie, lay his head in the older boy’s lap and just…cry.

“I’m sorry, Stevie, that’s…that’s a lot,” he said, suddenly morose as he set Steve’s phone down somewhere on his other side.

“I know it shouldn’t be a big deal,” Steve started, unable to hold back the torrent of emotion that Eddie’s presence brought forth. He kept his forehead pressed to his knee, rolling his neck as he spoke. “It’s fine, she’s moved on, and that’s good. Right? It’s not like I want her to be unhappy or anything. It’s just — it’s so fucking stupid, but-“ he cut off, realizing how insane the next part would sound.

“But what?” Eddie pressed, his hand smoothing over Steve’s shoulder blades in rhythmic slides.

“But…I mean, the dates are…a year ago, we had just broken up, and it’s a stupid thing to fixate on, it’s just-“ Steve squeezed his knees impossibly tighter against his chest in a subconscious effort to squash what came next before it gained any real traction. “I feel so fucking small.”

Insignificant.

“She’s got every right to get on to the next thing, but like — right after we broke up? Seriously? It just sucks. It feels like I never mattered in the first place. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Eddie said quickly, tender but insistent. “Steve, that’s fucked up. You’re right, she’s entitled to her happiness, and you’re sweet to say that, but it still sucks.” His hand moved to grab Steve’s shoulder, fingertips digging into bone and muscle. “I’m so sorry.”

Steve shifted, settled his temple against his knee so he could look at Eddie, the older man’s face drawn up in mutual sorrow. It kind of made him smile to see — that someone could mirror his heart so well on their face. Some strange part of him settling to see it.

“Yeah, well,” he said, offering Eddie a half-hearted smile. Eddie sighed, his hand resuming its path across his shoulder blades.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked.

“No, uh. Well. I mean, more of what you’re doing, I guess.”

“How do you mean?”

“You just…I, uh, I liked it. The other day. Y’know, when you touched my hair.”

Eddie’s ensuing smile was soft, his hand quickly responding to the request, trailing up the back of his neck to brush against the hair at the back of his head. Steve was aware that his hair was probably a greasy mess, having not showered that day, but he couldn’t bring himself to care — not with that immediate flood of calm washing over his senses. Steve sucked in a breath, letting it leave slowly through his nose. He wanted more. He wanted hands in his hair, and weight against his skin, and arms around his shoulders. More. Anything.

“Would you…” he began, losing his nerve halfway through the ask, but Eddie pounced on the statement.

“Would I what, baby? Tell me,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind Steve’s ear.

Baby.

There was that word again, alighting on his frayed nerves like a cloud, nestling down and warming him from the inside out.

“Hold me? If you want. It’s okay if it’s too weird. You can tell me to, like, fuck off or whatever,” he stumbled, looking anywhere except Eddie’s eyes. He only ventured a glance to Eddie’s face when he felt a hand on top of one of his, skin still chilled from outside but warming quickly.

“C’mere,” he said, jerking his head lightly over his shoulder, soft eyes loosening Steve’s stiff muscles in the span of a glance. Eddie scooted sideways on the couch, pressing his back into the throw pillows that Robin picked out. He gave his chest a pat, signaling that he was ready for Steve’s weight. Steve’s knees ached when he stretched out, crawling in between Eddie’s legs to rest his back against Eddie’s chest, his friend’s arms coming to circle his waist. Steve let his head drop backwards with a sigh, skull settling nicely into the dip above Eddie’s collarbone. He settled his hands on top of Eddie’s, a little clammy, but he didn’t think Eddie would mind.

“Tell me about your day?” Steve asked, “I’d love to think about literally anything else.”

“I can do that,” Eddie said, launching into an at-length run-down of his shift at the diner. Steve listened, laughed when Eddie recalled, in embarrassingly vivid detail, the way an older woman had tried valiantly to get his phone number. Every time Eddie spoke, his chest would rumble against Steve’s back, his voice floating close to Steve’s ear. And if Steve twitched a little in his pants when Eddie’s breath slid past his cheek, then it was probably just a normal reaction to the sheer amount of bodily contact, right?

He hadn’t been touched like that in months, so of course his blood sang for it, trickling south with slow precision. He was confident that his baggy sweatpants would cover all manner of sins, and frankly the partially concerning swell between his thighs came in stark second to the warmth working itself through his bones. He shifted his legs on the couch, subtly adjusted the fabric around his crotch, and resolved to forget about the tingle building up at the base of his spine. He was just starved for touch, his body reacting on instinct to the close proximity of another person. It didn’t mean anything.

Eddie freed one hand from Steve’s grasp, threading his fingers through the hair on the side of Steve’s head, goosebumps prickling Steve’s torso as Eddie’s blunt nails scraped beautifully against his scalp. The sensation certainly wasn’t doing anything to help the tightness growing in his sweatpants, his chest rising and falling with a touch more effort than before as his hips twitched involuntarily. He hoped to god that Eddie hadn’t noticed. Eventually, Eddie’s hand left his hair, sliding back to its original location pinned under Steve’s palms. And yeah, that was definitely better, because Steve was starting to wonder how he was going to explain the hard-on threatening to tent the front of his sweatpants.

Eddie went on about his day, about the petty drama between his coworkers, and it wasn’t long before Steve’s brain started to fog — Eddie’s voice like a dulcet lullaby to his miserable little heart. His friend’s body was warm, his arms comfortable, and just like that, Steve was sinking off to sleep. Again.

What were they putting in these metalheads that made them so damn hypnotic?

Right before he slipped fully into sleep, Steve could have sworn that Eddie pressed a kiss to the side of his head, but he was pretty sure the phantom sensation was just a product of his need-addled brain.

December 22nd, 2022

The following day, Eddie came home with a painting under his arm, something a coworker had given him from the pile of stuff leftover from their most recent move. It was huge and modern, terrible by all accounts, and it fit right into their weird little collection perfectly. Robin had cackled at the sight of it when Eddie presented it to them, a shit-eating grin spread across his face. Robin occupied with making dinner — they often took turns — Eddie set to work finding a spot for the painting on the wall. Steve sat on the sofa and watched, offering his two cents when Eddie tested out a placement.

“It’s a little low on the left side,” Steve said, tilting his head to the side as he studied the angle of the painting. Eddie had managed to secure the thing to the wall, but they were still deciding if it looked straight. It was hard to ascertain whether or not it was level, what with the intense patterning of the piece distracting the eye. Robin had said it looked like a goat, but Eddie was adamant that it was definitely a cow.

“You want to get over here and do it?” Eddie quipped, flashing white teeth back at Steve while he fiddled with the frame.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one with the artistic eye?”

“I play guitar, I hardly think that counts here,” Eddie snorted, standing back from the painting to observe its placement. He had changed out of his work clothes, slipped into a pair of black sweatpants and a green, long-sleeved shirt. Something Robin had bought for him last Christmas, warm and well-made. He had his long hair pulled back into a loose bun at the back of his head, curls falling down around his face the more he moved. It was a stark departure from his usual style, and he looked unbelievably soft in the absence of his leather and chains. Steve wondered if he felt soft too.

He was up and off the couch before he could talk himself back from the ledge. Eddie had held him the night before, talked quietly about his day while Steve fell asleep in his arms, so surely this would be okay. It would fall unceremoniously into their regular routine of physical contact, barely acknowledged and played off as purely friendly.

Which it was – purely friendly, that is.

So he went for it. Stepped forward and looped his arms around Eddie’s waist, pressing his nose into the skin at the back of his neck. The shorter curls that couldn’t be captured by his bun tickled against the bridge of his nose, and Steve couldn’t resist one good, deep breath. Eddie smelled like cigarettes, and his pine shampoo, and a hint of cologne faded from a day of wear. It was…

Fuck, it was intoxicating. Like he could press his nose to Eddie’s skin and inhale forever, but it still wouldn’t be enough. Eddie’s scent bred calm, and care, and pushed inside his bloodstream – slipped slow and steady like honey in his veins. He rubbed his nose lightly against Eddie’s skin, barely resisting the temptation to sink his teeth into the nape of his neck – devour the source of that smell and all it brought him.

Steve’s stomach dropped, though, as he felt Eddie freeze under his touch, body gone rigid and still. Quickly, Steve released him, arms dropping to his sides as he walked backwards a few steps, the backs of his knees banging into the coffee table in his haste to correct what had clearly been a huge mistake. Shame-flavored panic welled up in the back of his throat as he studied Eddie’s body language with hyper-attentive eyes, like he was just waiting for Eddie to pounce. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone pushed him away for latching on too tight. He braced himself for a scolding, or a teasing that would lodge itself deep where his insecurities burned brightest, but Eddie just cleared his throat, his head falling down towards his chest in what looked like contemplation. If Steve was a reasonable person, he would have waited – would have paused and let the inevitable conversation transpire. He would have taken responsibility and suffered the consequences of his actions with quiet understanding. But he wasn’t reasonable. He was altogether terrified.

Because this was Eddie, and he wouldn’t – couldn’t – lose him over some stupid passing desire for closeness. It was the intrinsically romantic quality of the holiday season, and nothing more. Just his lonely bones after a year of healing from heartbreak. Eddie turned to him, his lips parting like he was preparing to say something, but Steve was speaking before he had the chance.

“Gonna go check on Robbie,” he said, jerking his thumb weakly over his shoulder. Eddie blinked at him for a moment, but he nodded, effectively releasing Steve from his spot. Steve walked a little too quickly to the kitchen, leaving a slightly gob-smacked Eddie behind.

Fuck fuck fuck.

In the kitchen, Robin was none the wiser to his blunder, quickly handing him a wooden spoon to stir vegetables around in one of the pans on the stove. He stood stiffly over his task and diligently swiped the spoon back and forth, but he barely heard what she was saying to him. He was too busy spinning out to comprehend anything other than the absolute mess he had made of things in one fell swoop.

December 23rd, 2022

Steve stared at the plastic-wrapped ham in front of him, still frozen and sitting unceremoniously on the counter. He had no idea why he had been tasked with prepping their pre-Christmas dinner in the first place, seeing as though he was the worst cook out of all of them. Sure, his parents had frequently been absent throughout his formative years, and he could understand why someone would think that would mean that he had been forced to teach himself to cook. Realistically, though, it just meant that he was well-versed with the frozen food aisle.

He tapped the screen of his phone, which he had set on the counter earlier, to check the time. Robin should have been home over half an hour ago. He had been counting on her to walk him through the steps, having never touched a ham in his goddamn life. He hadn’t expected it to be especially difficult, what with the thing being pre-cooked in the package, but what he hadn’t anticipated was how impenetrable the plastic sheath would be. He had spent nearly five minutes just trying to tear the thing open, resorting at one point to using his teeth.

It had proved to be all in vain, the piece of meat still sitting wrapped on the counter. Steve huffed a sigh, finally picking up his phone to call for backup, even if his pride stung to do so.

Robin’s Good Time Boys

Steve: I can’t get the ham out of the package

Steve: Why do we not have scissors in this house

Steve waited for a moment, eying the ham with disdain, before Robin’s reply popped up on the screen.

Robbie: In my desk, top right drawer

Steve sighed, slipping his phone into his pocket as he made his way back to Robin’s bedroom, pulling open the drawer she had indicated to rifle through the contents inside. How did one girl amass so many scrapbooking supplies? Scissors in hand, Steve approached the ham again, jabbing the blades into the thick plastic until he managed to puncture the packaging. It was kind of gross, ham juice getting all over his hands, but he got the piece of meat in the designated baking pan — the one Robin had left on the counter the night before.

Steve checked the package for the baking instructions, at least that part was straight forward enough, but when he went to turn the knob to preheat the oven, he saw no evidence of the machine working. No lights, no sounds. He crossed his arms, glancing over the oven, waiting for something, anything to happen, but the machine just sat there. Mocking him. This whole thing had been Robin’s idea in the first place. She was headed back to Hawkins for Christmas, and had insisted that the three of them celebrate together before she left, seeing as though Steve and Eddie were staying behind this year. Eddie, because Wayne had finally been able to afford that cruise for himself and his new girlfriend after years of saving up. And Steve…well, Steve hadn’t been back for Christmas since he’d packed up his possessions and moved to Chicago. His parents had asked, multiple times, for him to join them for the big, extended family Christmas. But Steve was weary from years of putting on airs, so he turned them down every time. This year, they hadn’t bothered to ask.

Which was fine.

It was better, probably.

He rubbed a palm against his cheek, pulling out his phone to send another text.

Steve: Our oven is apparently busted

Steve: Robs, weren’t you supposed to be home an hour ago?

Steve leaned up against the counter and checked his email while he waited for her to reply, which took several minutes this time, much to his annoyance.

Robbie: Shit

Robbie: I totally forgot to tell you

Robbie: I picked up a shift

Robbie: Richie literally begged me, you know I can’t say no to them

Robbie: Sorry babe :( I’m stuck

Steve sighed, palming at his forehead. Fucking Richie. Robin’s work-related Achilles heel.

Steve: It’s fine, I’ll figure it out

Eddie: Do you need me to run home?

Eddie’s text startled Steve, as he had managed to forget that he had been messaging in their group chat. His thumbs hovered over the touchscreen, fingers poised to tap out a response. His thoughts flashed to Eddie’s arms around his waist, Steve’s head resting heavy above his collarbone while warm breath tickled his ear. To Eddie’s hands in his hair, and a quiet “This okay?” To Eddie’s muscles, stiff under his grasp the night before, unsaid words etched in his dark brown eyes.

He hated himself for how badly he wanted to invoke their friendship. How desperate he felt for even an ounce of Eddie’s comfort. But it wasn’t worth opening up Pandora’s box — not when their relationship was on the line.

Steve typed his response quickly, hit send, and dropped his phone on the counter.

Steve: no it’s fine

He left his phone in the kitchen, trudging back towards their shared bathroom to shower, leaving the ham cold and abandoned in the pan. The side dishes were already prepared and in the fridge, ready to be heated up, and he was grumpy. He felt pathetic, and entirely useless, and he just wanted to wash it all off. They could do without a ham.

The hot water felt heavenly against his skin, steam clouding the shower and filling his lungs. He let his mind wander, let his hands roam over his skin in slow, searching patterns. Steve had been spoiled in recent days with touches, but no more. Now he’d have to learn how to give himself the attention he needed, because he wouldn’t risk fraying one of the few relationships that mattered to him just because he needed a hug.

The water was warm and his skin was slick under his fingertips as he brushed lower, lower, lower — wrapping his hand around his thickening length. He sighed into the touch, his other hand smoothing over the expanse of his torso, fingers rubbing through the hair that grew thick on his chest. He worked his fist slowly, curling his wrist to twist his grip the way he knew felt good, his index finger catching on the underside of the head with each slow stroke. He let his body roll forward, his forehead bumping into the cool tiles of the shower as he worked himself over, hot water running down his back and shoulders. He let his free hand wander, palm rolling over his chest, his hips, up to his neck, pretending all the while that the hand roving all over his body, the fingers wrapped snugly around his cock, belonged to someone else.

He tugged faster, feeling pleasure building up quickly at the base of his spine, fast and hot and threatening to spill over. Steve groaned lightly into the foggy air, no need to keep his voice down when he was alone in the apartment — a rare luxury. He was used to shoving t-shirts into his mouth, pressing his face into the pillow while he found his release, not used to being quiet when he had spent most of his life rumbling around an empty house. Robin had made him promise not to have sex with Megan in the apartment soon after they had started sleeping together, citing that the noises coming through the walls were “permanently scarring”.

Now, alone in the apartment, Steve opened his lips and let all manner of filthy noises spill forth, reveling in the sound of his voice echoing off the shower walls, and his hand slicking over his erection — faster with each moment until his forearm started to burn from exertion. He tugged sharply, hard enough that his balls bounced with each upward stroke, chasing the loosening of that knot in his stomach.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, the image of someone else’s hands sharper in the absence of sight, as he worked himself closer to the edge, chest heaving from effort. Someone else’s hands. Dry knuckles, and gaudy silver rings glinting on fingers tipped with chipped black nail polish, and-

Fuck.

Pleasure crept up on silken slippers and rushed swiftly through his senses, flooding his brain and making everything soft around the edges. The first spurt had him rocking forward, hips twitching as he whined, high and breathy. He panted through his release, forehead pressed hard against the tile as he painted the shower wall white. Shuddering through the aftershocks, he drew his fist down his cock a couple more times, wringing the last drops of come from his slit until the threat of overstimulation had his legs quivering underneath him. He staggered backwards and leaned heavily against the cool tile wall, hands coming up to cover his face, shame burning at the back of his throat. He could feel the flush burning at the tips of his ears, not just from the hot water.

God, he was so fucking gross.

Eddie, one of his best friends, had been nothing but loving in the past couple of days while Steve wallowed in his seasonal-brand depression. He had offered Steve his arms out of the good graces of his heart, and Steve had taken that kindness and warped it into some kind of weird sex thing to fulfill his base urges. He took the shower head off the wall and roughly sprayed the remains of his release off the tile, grimacing all the while. Steve scrubbed shampoo harshly into his scalp, rinsed the suds away, and toweled himself off with all the gentleness of a sandblaster.

Served him right for having weird sex thoughts about his friend. If Eddie wasn’t around to punish him for it, then Steve would find a way to do it himself.

Steve was just pulling pajama pants up over his chilled skin when he heard the front door unlock, his senses flying into high alert. He wasn’t expecting anyone home — Eddie and Robin were both working until later. He tugged a shirt over his head and crept out of his room on careful feet, tip-toeing towards the kitchen where he heard the rustle of movement. Shoulder pressed against the wall around the corner, Steve steadied his breathing, wishing he had grabbed the bat next to his bed. His fists would have to do — if he could be fast enough. Whoever had the audacity to break into their place when Steve was already feeling mildly self-destructive had another thing coming to them.

Steve inhaled a deep breath and flung himself around the corner, nearly running headfirst into a very startled Eddie Munson.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie shrieked, staggering backwards, hands instinctively flying up in front of him.

“Eddie, fucking hell! You scared the shit out of me!” Steve gasped, clutching at his heart.

“I scared you? Why the fuck are you creeping around like that?” He accused, eyes still pinned wide. Steve looked past him, gaze catching on the grocery bags now sitting on the counter — the source of the rustling, he realized too late.

“I wasn’t expecting anybody home, I-“ he explained, his brows drawing together on his forehead. “Wait, why are you here? I thought you worked until seven on Wednesdays.”

“Ah, yeah, I dipped out early,” Eddie said, seeming to regain his composure, hands finally lowered from their defensive position. He was still in his coat, a red scarf wrapped tight around his neck. “Marnie won’t mind.”

“Did you tell Marnie you were leaving?” Steve asked, confused.

“I told Annie, who is going to cover for me.” Eddie’s head tilted to the side in consideration, an impish look descending on his face.

“Eddie,” Steve said, preparing to scold the older man for his irresponsibility. Eddie liked his job, Steve knew that. So why-

“What?” Eddie questioned, feigning innocence, walking back to where he had dropped the groceries to fish around in one of the plastic bags.

“Why would you do that?” Steve pushed, something loose and painful rattling around in his heart.

“What do you mean?” Eddie pulled out a case of seltzers — the kind Steve and Robin liked to drink, setting it on the counter.

“You could lose your job, idiot,” Steve admonished, feeling suddenly and uncomfortably desperate. He walked towards Eddie, pulled forward by a strange and incomprehensible force. He was shaking, he noticed, buzzing inside from realizations just beginning to take shape. “Why would you skip out on a shift like that?”

Eddie turned, leaning back against the counter, hands braced on the edge.

“Because you needed me,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like Chicago was frigid in the winter, and Eddie Munson would always come when he called.

Steve reached out a trembling hand, folding his fingers into the nylon material of Eddie’s jacket sleeve. The cold fabric bit at his skin, but he could barely feel a thing. He was too busy swallowing around the sudden lump forming in his throat, like something big was about to happen, and his body was already locking up against its impact. When Steve braved a glance up to Eddie’s face, the older man’s eyes were impossibly warm, his lips drawn into a smile so soft that Steve swore he felt it on his skin.

“I’ll always come for you, Stevie,” he said quietly, his head falling ever so slightly to the side.

Steve’s lips closed around a soft “oh”, his eyebrows climbing his forehead as the stunning realization came into sharp focus, knocked him upside the head and sent his heart hammering in his chest.

Oh, holy fuck.

He was falling in love with Eddie Munson.

Had probably been falling in love with him for months, too thick in the head to put the pieces together before. He thought back to gentle touches and seeking out the warmth of Eddie’s skin. He thought of the morose moods he’d get himself into when Eddie wasn’t around, and yeah. It had definitely been obvious, if he was honest with himself.

“That’s…” he breathed, locked solidly into that place of reverence that made everything feel quiet and contained. “Thank you.”

He wanted to say more, so many words rising in his throat on the crest of his newfound recognition, but they all got stuck on his thick, useless tongue. Eddie’s smile deepened, the dimples on either side of his mouth carving into his cheeks, and Steve wanted to kiss him so badly he was sick with it.

“Let’s get this ham figured out, shall we?” Eddie squeezed Steve’s arm, a friendly touch that wasn’t nearly enough, but it would have to do. Steve nodded, still too entranced to offer up much in the way of agreement.

As it turned out, the oven had been preheating the whole time Steve was in the shower. Eddie explained that the light was broken, but that the machine made a loud click when it got up to temperature — something Steve wouldn’t have known, having never used it before. Eddie patiently showed him, offering up that Munson brand kindness in spades. Not that Steve deserved a lick of it. Steve stood by, telling him off gently for insinuating that he didn’t know where the timer was (which he didn’t), finding that he couldn’t take his eyes off of Eddie.

He couldn’t stop watching the way his hair moved with him, totally transfixed by each curl as it slipped back and forth over his shoulders. He wanted to wind those locks between his fingers, brush softly through each strand and tug just to see how Eddie would react. He wanted to reach his hands into that hair and drag Eddie’s mouth to his, pull him tight and kiss him within an inch of his life.

He wanted to press comfort into Eddie’s skin — return every ounce of care Eddie had ever gifted him tenfold. This kind, beautiful, wild-haired man that always showed up for him. Never asked questions and picked up every broken piece of him without a second thought. He had made Steve soup the night that Megan broke things off, had ventured to the drug store when Steve was sick to pick up cold medicine and slid an arm around his waist every time Steve was feeling vulnerable — all without Steve ever having to ask, like doling out love was just coded into Eddie’s DNA. How a boy who had been mercilessly picked on all throughout his school years had managed to settle into the most compassionate adult Steve knew, he would never understand. It was a marvel, and Steve was all at once completely starstruck to watch his friend shuffle around the kitchen, happily working to prepare their feast like he hadn’t had to drop everything to help.

He watched this wonder of a person pull side dishes from the fridge, humming along to a record they had put on the turntable while he slid things in and out of the microwave, and felt himself falling completely and whole-heartedly head over heels in love.

December 24th, 2022

The morning before Robin left for Hawkins, Steve pulled on one of his nice sweaters for what he hoped would be the last festive outing he would be dragged to before he could put the whole holiday season behind him. The production agency that Robin worked for threw a Christmas party every year, a gesture of goodwill after working its employees to the bone, Steve supposed, but Robin had made him come the year before, when she had been just an intern still working through college, and she was dead set on him coming this year too now that she had scored her first big girl job. This year, she was also dragging Eddie along, so at least he would have someone to bitch with about her stuffy coworkers and the shitty catered food.

She tried to give them a run-down on all the people she would be introducing them to, but Steve knew he would promptly forget everyone’s names the moment he heard them. Still, he tried to put on a smile, hummed along to her commentary and nodded when he needed to. Eddie sat in the backseat with his boots up on the center console, always resigned to let Steve ride shotgun when Robin was driving. Eddie was a couple feet away, body nowhere near Steve, but he felt him like he was right up against his skin. The revelations from the night before still swam in his head, had him casting glances in the rearview mirror every few seconds. And when they were walking down the frigid streets of Chicago, having had to park a couple of blocks away from Robin’s office, he had to physically restrain himself from leaning against Eddie’s side – chasing that bone-deep warmth that came from more than just body heat. When Eddie closed the passenger side door for Steve and smiled at him, he felt an inkling of that warmth spread through his chest.

The party was immediately exactly what he expected it to be, which was a comfort, in some ways. At least he knew how to behave, having rehearsed his bland, albeit friendly greeting a hundred times in his head. He always did better in social settings if he knew what role he was meant to play. He had anticipated that he’d be mistaken for Robin’s boyfriend at least a few times, and her mediocre coworkers didn’t let him down. After he had made the rounds on her arm, he resigned himself to the food table, lingering by the punch bowl that he hoped was sufficiently spiked. Eddie was somewhere off in the crowd, locked in a passionate discussion with one of Robin’s managers who, it turned out, was also a metal music fanatic.

Steve sipped on the punch he’d ladled into a red plastic cup, nose wrinkling at the taste, but he drank it all the same. Because if he was going to suffer through another hour of this monotony, then he was going to do it buzzed. Leaning up against the wall by the punch bowl, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and opened Instagram. It wouldn’t calm him down. In fact, it would most likely only serve to make him more anxious than he already was, but it was something to do, and he was tired of making small talk with people he would probably never see again. He was knee deep in his doom scrolling when he heard a familiar voice calling his name, his stomach falling to the floor in an instant.

He looked up, phone still perched in his hands, to see Megan standing in front of him, her green eyes gone slightly wide.

“Megan,” he said, feeling like all the air had suddenly been sucked from the room. Steve blinked at her, the rest of the party fading fuzzy in the background, and suddenly he was nineteen again, watching the most beautiful blonde-haired girl he had ever seen mop coffee off a café table, her face pinched up in panic.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know you’d be here.” She made no move to take a step closer, remaining at an awkward distance away.

“Robin works here,” he explained, still breathless, muscles gone rigid under his skin. Megan chuckled, a dry thing that stuttered out of her throat.

“Wow, that’s – a crazy coincidence, isn’t it?” Steve wasn’t sure what she meant, but he was still too stunned to clarify. “Well, uh. You look good, Steve,” she said, engagement ring glittering at her finger when she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. His stomach seized, something small and still-healing giving a valiant kick.

“Thanks,” Steve replied, a little cold, but it was all he could manage. He could have complimented her dress, or the hairstyle that he knew — in an uncomfortably intimate sort of way — had probably taken her upwards of an hour to fashion. He could have been friendly and mature and eased them into the flow of conversation, knew it was a petty and ugly thing that he didn’t. But Megan’s eyes were still green, like the summer grass in his small town, and Steve wanted to scream. He wanted to cry, and sob, and make a scene. He swallowed instead, pushing every rotten feeling he could down his throat and into his stomach where he could deal with it later in the quiet of his own bedroom.

“You said Robin works here?” she asked, her red manicure a near-match to the cup in her hands. She was drumming her fingers, Steve realized, something she always did when she was nervous. It made him feel just a little less small to know that she was also struggling her way through this interaction.

“Yeah, since May. They hired her on right after she finished school.” Steve started looking around for Robin, hoping against hope that she would suddenly appear and save him from any further surprises. Her presence always had a way of smoothing things over. Even if he was reeling from anxiety, his best friend was true north, and he would always feel more grounded by her side.

“I’m surprised Jayce never mentioned her. Hey, there he is,” she said, and Steve had to stop himself from actively walking away when a tall, brunette man folded himself into Megan’s side. It was at that moment that all the puzzle pieces finally clicked together. The man next to Megan smiled at him, and Steve immediately recognized him from Megan’s engagement pictures. Her fiancé.

Of fucking course.

“This is, uh,” Megan started, motioning towards Steve with her red solo cup. “This is Steve. I’ve talked about him before.”

Jesus Christ, this could not get any worse, could it?

“Steve, right. Nice to meet you, man,” Jayce grinned, extending his hand. Steve took it, offering a tight smile in return, trying not to melt into the carpet. “Hey, you’re from Indiana, right?” he continued, and god, he was trying to make conversation. Steve glanced at Megan, whose abject anxiety was only barely concealed on her features. Anyone in passing might not have noticed it, but Steve knew what to look for. He had memorized the planes of her face, lips pressed to every inch of skin, and now she was clutching someone else against her side, a princess cut diamond glittering at her finger. Steve had bought her an oval cut, thought that it suited her elegant aesthetic. He had pawned it in the end, tired of it sitting in his dresser drawer like a burning reminder of his failures.

“Hawkins, yeah. Tiny little town,” he replied, gripping his cup with both hands.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, man,” Jayce went on, and Steve’s jaw tightened, his back teeth grinding harshly together in his mouth. He couldn’t tell what was worse – the fact that this guy knew all about their relationship, or the fact that Megan had told him in the first place. Like he had meant something to her, at least enough to relay to future partners, and he still hadn’t been enough in the end.

“Can’t really say the same, man,” Steve bit back, friendly enough, but there was venom behind the words. It was clearly enough to knock Jayce off his rhythm, because the taller man chuckled awkwardly, then cleared his throat.

“Look, uh-“ he began, but before he could finish, Steve heard his name from somewhere to his right. He looked over and could have crumbled to the floor to see Eddie walking his way, skirting around a larger group of people with a drink in his hand. His hand was on Steve’s waist the moment he reached them, his fingers digging lightly into Steve’s sweater.

“Eddie,” Megan smiled, but Steve clocked the way her eyes immediately zeroed onto Eddie’s hand on his waist. He straightened up a little at that – preened to know that she was spinning through a list of questions in her head. Let her wonder, he thought. She had no place in his life anymore.

“Wow, Meg, killer dress,” Eddie said, looking her over. If he was feeling any hint of anger, he didn’t show it. Steve had been privy to the harsh words both Eddie and Robin had for his ex, so he shivered a little to know that Eddie was putting on such a convincing act. He glanced up at him, catching the sharp edge in his smile, and bit his lip, unbridled desire running rampant through his veins.

It was more than a little fucked up how turned on he was to see Eddie playing it up for his sake – to feel Eddie’s hand, the way it tightened on his back, and know that he was holding it in.

“Thanks,” Megan replied, her eyes now unabashedly bouncing between the two of them. Eddie sucked in a breath, his attention turning to the man on her left.

“And you must be the fiancé.”

“Jayce,” the brunette greeted, offering his hand again. He looked a little lost, the smile on his face a weak thing, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Eddie took his hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Strong handshake you got there,” Eddie commented, keeping Jayce’s hand in his grip, even as the taller man tried to pull away. “You know what they say about a man with a strong handshake.” Megan laughed lightly, but it was awkward, slow and dry.

“Uh, no, I guess not. What do they say?” Jayce asked, clearly confused by the tense atmosphere. Steve was sure it wasn’t helping that Eddie was still holding his hand, gazing directly into his eyes with that seductive intensity Steve knew he was capable of. Eddie regarded his hand, turning it over to gaze briefly at the back of it before letting it go.

“Oh, you know. They really know how to pick ‘em.”

Megan’s cheeks flushed at the near-insult, her tinted lips working briefly before she glanced at the ground and appeared to collect herself. Steve felt a smile tug at his lips, but kept it tamped down. Eddie’s comment wasn’t the blow that Steve wanted, not really, but it was enough to have him leaning into Eddie’s side with gratitude.

“Listen, it’s been great to catch up, but I think Robin was looking for us,” Eddie announced, reverting back to his friendly tone.

“Oh woah, you guys know Robin?” Jayce asked, but Eddie was already curling his fingers into Steve’s sweater and pulling him gently to the side.

“We’ll tell her you said hello,” Eddie smiled over his shoulder, giving them a two-finger wave. Megan opened her mouth, lips working like she wanted to say something, but Steve turned away before she managed to spit it out, following Eddie through the crowd. The older man extended a hand behind him, offering it to Steve as a tether while they bobbed and wove through clumps of people. Steve took it, twining his fingers into Eddie’s and clutching firmly. They did, in fact, end up next to Robin, who looked happy to see them again.

“Oh my god, I thought you guys left!” She exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulders and kissing his cheek. Jesus, no wonder her coworkers thought they were together. Steve could smell the booze on her breath, and when she looked at him, he could see the drunken sheen to her eyes. One too many mimosas, he thought. She would sober up by the time she needed to make the drive to Hawkins.

“I think we are actually going to head out,” Eddie corrected, which elicited a frown from Robin.

“What? No, you guys can’t leave. You said ten o’clock, it’s only like…nine fifteen,” she complained, tugging at the sleeve of Eddie’s sweater. Very patiently, Eddie leaned down, murmuring something in her ear. It was loud enough in the room that Steve couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he could wager a guess based on the way Robin’s eyes widened.

“Steve, oh my god,” she breathed, covering her hand with her mouth. “I am so, so sorry. I had no idea,” she apologized, like the whole fiasco had been her fault, which it decidedly wasn’t. He hadn’t shown her the post, had only told her about it, so how was she to know? It was kind of comical to think that the entire interaction could have been avoided if he had just shown her a picture.

“Robs, it’s really okay,” he soothed, stroking a hand down her arm. “But yeah, if you’re okay with it, I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Please do. I can call Sylvia to come get me, don’t even worry about it.” She pulled out her phone as if to prove her point.

“Can I have your keys?” Eddie asked, holding out his hand. “I’m good to drive, but…” he looked towards Steve, who shook his head. He had been slamming punch for most of the night. Definitely not good to drive.

“Right, that’s what I thought. I’ll take Steve home. Call me if you need me to come get you too.” Robin disappeared momentarily to find her tote bag, and returned with her keys, placing the atrociously large contraption in Eddie’s hands. Steve leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, reassured her once again that he was fine, and followed Eddie to the coat room. It was only when they were locating their jackets that Steve realized that they were still holding hands. They had to pull apart the darn their winter gear, Steve’s fingers aching for Eddie’s the moment they were gone.

The car ride was relatively quiet, the conversation largely taken up by mundane and snarky comments about Robin’s coworkers. Nobody could bitch about strangers like the three of them. When they pulled up in front of the apartment, it wasn’t even one o’clock – the morning chill still clinging to the air outside. They shivered their way inside, shucking boots and coats in the entryway, not even bothering to hang things up as they bustled into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Steve blew into his cupped fingers, leaning up against the kitchen counter while Eddie pushed the button down on their instant kettle. Water set to boil, Eddie turned back to face him, leaning up against the opposite counter with his arms crossed tight against his chest.

“So,” Eddie said into the brief silence blooming between them. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “My ex showing up with her fiancé? Not really, no.” Eddie gave him a look that was halfway between pain and humor.

“It was…comically tragic,” he acknowledged, giving a little shrug.

“Oh my god, it was like an episode of reality tv,” Steve chuckled, not able to help the manic smile that lit up his face. “It was, like…Kardashian level bad. You can’t plan that kind of drama.”

“You handled it well,” Eddie offered, brown eyes softening.

“I don’t know,” Steve said, looking down towards the linoleum. “I froze up pretty bad.”

“I think you did great,” Eddie argued, tone all full of care and love, and Steve felt himself blushing under the praise – heat flooding the back of his neck, running up to his ears. He toed at the ground, pushing his socked foot against one of the diamonds in the pattern on the floor. He heard the switch of the kettle, the sound of Eddie turning it off, like he was second guessing their plan to make tea.

“Yeah, well…”

“Seriously, Steve,” Eddie pressed, stalking forward. Before Steve could prepare himself, Eddie was in his space, grabbing his hands in his and bringing them to his chest. He chanced a glance up to Eddie’s face, which was a mistake, because the warmth he saw there had him feeling like his legs were going to give out from under him. He wanted…

God, he wanted.

He gave a half-hearted attempt at pushing Eddie away, trying to play it off like he was just shying away from Eddie’s words, but the older man held firm, tightening his fingers around Steve’s. He wasn’t going to make this easy.

“Come on, get off me, man,” Steve said weakly, shaking their joined hands, his resolve crumbling quickly in Eddie’s grip.

“Thought you liked it when I touched you,” Eddie smirked, all playfulness and teasing, but Steve was losing it. The chuckle that slid up from his chest was wet and frail, embarrassingly feeble as he let his head fall forward onto Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s hands were warm in his, and everything that he’d been trying to hold back for the last twenty four hours was slipping through the cracks, gathering at his feet and threatening to drown him.

“I do. Fuck, that’s the problem,” he said quietly against Eddie’s shoulder, his forehead pressed into the soft material of his sweater. Worn and dark blue, something Steve had seen him wear a hundred times before.

“I’m not following, Stevie,” Eddie said above him, making no move to let Steve’s hands go. They were still locked against his chest, and perhaps that was what gave Steve the necessary burst of courage to open the floodgates.

“I just – I want to touch you all the time. Eddie, I can’t – your skin is literally magnetic, or something. I feel like I’m going insane. Like every time I’m around you, I can’t stop thinking about getting my hands on you. Doing terrible, awful things. And when you’re gone, I’m just waiting for you to come back.” He swallowed, rubbing his forehead against Eddie’s sweater, stupid tears threatening to spill – imaginary rejection already clawing at his heart. “Please tell me that I’m just going crazy. Tell me off and make this whole thing stop. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to lose you.”

He took a shuddering breath, waiting for the inevitable drop, but it didn’t come. Several seconds passed by before a dry chuckle shook Eddie’s chest. Steve looked up to find the older man staring at him, a little wide-eyed with a slash of white. Steve watched as his face softened, as he crowded further into Steve's space and released one of his hands just to brush his fingertips along the length of Steve’s arm. All of the oxygen fled Steve’s lungs, sucked into the depths of Eddie’s brown eyes that had grown impossibly soft in a matter of moments.

“If I didn’t know any better, honey, I’d think you had a little crush on me,” he said quietly, like it was a secret just meant for the two of them.

A crush.

Steve could have laughed out loud.

He’d had crushes before, passing affection and fleeting romances, but this was nothing like that. This sat heavy in his chest twenty four hours of the day, spreading slow and sweet in his veins and putting metal in his spine.

“A cr- No…I think we’re well past that,” Steve stumbled, lips drawing up in the dopiest grin he thought he’d ever managed. Eddie leaned forward, his face so close that Steve could feel his breath ghosting across his lips. He shivered, the anticipation of everything that could be like electricity on his skin. Eddie’s hand cupped his cheek, his thumb brushing against Steve’s cheekbone in frantic, nervous lines.

“Please tell me I’m not getting this wrong,” Eddie breathed, his brown eyes searching.

And when Steve leaned forward, pressed their lips together softly, he thought he finally understood what people meant when they talked about fireworks. Steve swore he saw sparks of color burst behind his eyes as Eddie pressed him roughly back against the counter, the kiss growing more frantic. Steve’s tailbone banged against the ledge in the process, a jolt of pain running up his spine, but he hardly noticed — all he could focus on was Eddie’s lips on his. Eddie’s hands on his waist, sliding up his chest to cup his face. Eddie used his grip to tilt Steve’s face, his tongue licking lightly along the seam of Steve’s lips, asking so sweetly to be let in.

Which, again, when had Eddie Munson ever had to be let in? Steve thought his heart might have been manufactured from the beginning to accept Eddie Munson beyond its walls.

Steve opened his mouth, Eddie’s tongue immediately sliding in to lick behind his teeth — wet, and sloppy, and perfect. Steve was getting kissed breathless, and he thought that it probably wouldn’t be a bad way to go, panting against Eddie’s lips with a heart so full of light he thought the poor, strained organ might burst at any moment.

Chest heaving, Eddie drew away, thumbs brushing against Steve’s cheek with reverence as he gazed down into his eyes.

“Is it awful to say that I’ve been wanting to do that since I moved in?” His lips were red, split-slick and plush, and Steve wanted to bite them — sink his teeth in and claim. Wanted so many selfish, dirty things that his brain could barely keep up. He sank forward and captured Eddie’s mouth in a kiss again, nipping at his bottom lip as a low moan spilled from his throat. Eddie grunted as Steve’s teeth sank into his lip, and Steve wondered briefly what kind of noises he would make if he bit down harder — pushed his teeth in and drew blood.

“Want you. Eddie, please,” he whined, brushing his lips against Eddie’s. Not really a kiss, but he couldn’t stand to be parted from Eddie’s mouth now that he’d had a taste. Steve felt strong hands on his waist as Eddie lifted him up on the countertop with some effort, his lips immediately locking onto the column of his throat, mouthing wetly at his neck until Steve felt the sting of bruises being sucked into his skin. He keened at the thought of red marks on his skin. Marks that Eddie had left on him – evidence of this one perfect moment in the warm yellow light of their kitchen. Eddie pressed his fingertips into Steve’s waist, leaning hard into him as he lavished attention on Steve’s neck, kissing up to his throat and nuzzling his nose against the hard bone of his jaw.

Steve sighed, shifting against the growing heat between his thighs. Eddie kissed him again, hard and slow, and Steve felt his cock twitch in his jeans, already painfully hard and pressing uncomfortably against the stiff weave of denim. Eddie’s hands slipped under the hem of Steve’s sweater, his fingers still icy cold, and Steve gasped, jerking away from the touch.

“What happened?” Eddie asked, breathless but immediately concerned. Steve’s heart fucking beamed for it, light filtering in through the cracks where things used to be so dark. Steve cupped the older man’s face, felt himself smiling like an idiot as he pressed his forehead against Eddie’s, felt the light sheen of sweat under his curly bangs.

“Cold. Your fingers,” Steve stammered, his tongue two sizes too big in his mouth. Eddie hummed, brushing his nose against Steve’s slowly. He reached up and ran the back of his fingers against Steve’s cheek, trailing his fingertips towards Steve’s mouth, where he tapped lightly against his lips.

“Open up, sweet thing,” he cooed. “Let’s warm ‘em up, shall we?”

“Oh, my god,” Steve groaned, eyelids fluttering as his jaw dropped open, tongue sliding out obediently. God, he must have been quite the picture. Tongue hanging out of his mouth as two of Eddie’s fingers slid into his mouth. His lips closed around the digits, humming as Eddie pushed them in and out of his mouth slowly, shoving a little further back each time until the tips of his fingers brushed the back of his throat. Their foreheads were still pressed together, and the whole thing probably looked obscenely ridiculous, Steve’s cock bulging in his jeans from the feeling of Eddie’s fingers fucking his mouth, but it felt impossibly good – the slick glide of spit-soaked fingers in his mouth better than any kiss he’d ever had.

When Eddie pulled his fingers out, left Steve’s mouth hollow and wanting, Steve couldn’t help but let out a pathetic little noise through his nose. Eddie chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You like it that much, baby?” His voice was dark, sinful and velvety in Steve’s ears, something he hadn’t heard from Eddie before. He hoped desperately that it would become a staple.

“Like it, yeah,” he nodded, sitting back to look into Eddie’s eyes. “You’re so fuckin’ weird. How do you come up with this shit?” Eddie shrugged, a watery smile playing on his lips – his mouth in constant motion, like he was making an effort to keep some sort of secret in.

“What is happening to your face right now?” Steve laughed, petting at his cheeks, his whole body singing to be able to just reach out and touch him. Eddie shook his head, soft tendrils of dark hair swishing around his face, and then sighed, looking straight into Steve’s eyes.

“Just kind of in disbelief. You real, Harrington?” he joked, pinching at Steve’s cheek. Steve swatted him away, snorting, heart alight. He pulled Eddie’s face close again, kissing him once, just a simple press of lips.

“’M real,” he murmured, grinning against Eddie’s mouth. The older man hummed, kissing him again, a little longer this time. Steve slid his arms around Eddie’s neck, locking his hands behind his head.

“Wanna fuck you. Can I?” he asked, feeling suddenly shy after swimming so safely in his own skin.

“Christ, Stevie, you trying to kill me?” Eddie laughed, knocking his forehead against Steve’s.

“No, I’d rather you not be dead for this next part.”

“You’re something else,” he said, something like helpless fondness resting in his dark eyes.

“You got a little crush on me or something?” Steve asked, like liquid silk under Eddie’s touch.

“C’mere, you little shit,” Eddie snarled playfully, wedging his hands up under Steve’s thighs and lifting him off the counter. It was a tumultuous journey to Eddie’s bedroom, Eddie barely able to support the weight of Steve’s body in his arms, and he nearly tripped and fell over a pair of Robin’s shoes in the hallway (the hypocrite). But it was okay, because they were kissing the whole time, lips and teeth and tongues colliding in a messy display of bubbly desperation – like soda fizzing over the top, lapping up every drop with eager mouths.

Steve let out a rough whoosh of breath as Eddie tossed him onto the bed, and Steve looked down just in time to watch Eddie strip his sweater off over his head, the tattooed expanse of his pale chest coming into view. He was breathtaking, varying shades of black ink scrawled across his skin, tiny twin silver rings through either of his nipples. He remembered Eddie talking about them, how much it had hurt when the needle went through his skin, but to see them was another thing. Steve wanted to put them in his mouth, wondered if Eddie would let him. Saliva built up on his tongue just to think of it. Eddie grinned, a wolfish thing, as he crawled between his thighs, lips landing on his in a firm crash. Steve was quickly learning that Eddie led tongue first, the bastard, and it was simultaneously the grossest and hottest thing he’d ever felt – all wet, and sloppy, and beautiful.

Steve looped his legs around Eddie’s waist, tangling his hands in his hair for more purchase, but much to his disappointment, Eddie pulled away, their lips making an obscene smacking noise in the process.

“Yesterday in the living room. I don’t want you to think that I was pulling away,” He said, arms bracketing either side of Steve’s head. His hair was falling down around his shoulders, creating a sort of curtain around their faces, and Steve thought to himself that he’d like to live right there – under the weight of Eddie’s body, shielded from the world by dark curls and strong arms.

“What?” Steve’s eyebrows creased as he thought back to the day before. It seemed so far away, like a distant dream in comparison to the flesh and blood beneath his fingertips. “Eddie, oh my god, it doesn’t matter.” He tried to crane his neck up to kiss the older man again, but Eddie just jerked his head back, making Steve frown.

“It does. It matters,” he pushed, leaning on one elbow so he could cup Steve’s face. “I would never run away from you, sweetheart.” And then, as if his words weren’t enough to send Steve’s heart hammering in his chest, Eddie leaned down and kissed him – achingly gently.

“You just surprised me ‘s all,” he went on, smoothing the hair away from Steve’s forehead. “It turned me on so bad, I just didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Really?” Steve felt a little breathless, a little like his bones were going to melt into the bedsheets.

“Wanted to push you up against the wall and ravage you, baby,” Eddie drawled, pressing his hips down into Steve’s, and-

Oh fuck, Steve could get behind that.

Steve had to get his mouth on Eddie’s urgently, else something horny and stupid slipped from his lips. He used his grip on Eddie’s hair to pull the older man down, scooping his lips up in a kiss as he pushed his hips upward – had to get some form of pressure or he would go insane. He whined into Eddie’s mouth the moment he felt the hard press of Eddie’s cock against his own, thick and firm in his dark jeans. Steve pulled harder at Eddie’s hair, lapping up the low moans that trickled from the older man’s lips as he rolled his body in long, slow motions, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head to finally get some friction.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie cursed, ducking his head into the crook of Steve’s shoulder.

“What? Is everything okay?” Fingers immediately loosening their grip, Steve stilled.

“Yeah, everything’s fuckin’ okay, you’re just hot,” Eddie laughed, dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m literally about to cream my pants just from kissing you.”

“Oh,” Steve said, a little stunned.

“Yeah, oh. Now get this off.” He tugged at Steve’s sweater, sitting up on his lap to assist Steve in getting the garment over his shoulders. Eddie tugged Steve upwards, pulling him close, and Christ. Skin-on-skin was so much better. Steve sighed into the feeling, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist to draw him closer.

“That feel good?” Eddie murmured, palms dragging slow circles across Steve’s bare back.

“Mhm,” he hummed, settling his cheek in the dip of Eddie’s shoulder, nose pressed to his neck where he could breathe in the smell of him – laundry detergent, shampoo, and cigarettes. That base scent that had his soul singing.

“Poor Stevie, so touch-starved,” Eddie cooed, and it should have sparked defensiveness, to hear Eddie talk to him like he was some small, fragile thing, but all he felt was loved. Cared for and beautifully held. “And to think of all the time we could’ve been lying half naked in my bed.”

“That’s a little presumptuous,” Steve smiled against his shoulder, feeling floaty and warm, body loose that it hadn’t been for months. Eddie pressed a kiss to the side of his head, lips lingering in his hair while he continued to rub heat into Steve’s back.

“Is it? Tell me you never thought about getting close like this.”

And he was right, of course. The bastard. Because even before Steve had come into his feelings for Eddie, he had always thirsted after closeness – drinking in the moments when their hands would brush. When Eddie would open his arm up for Steve on the couch, letting him lean heavy into his side while they watched movies. Hips bumping as they brushed their teeth side by side in the morning, his eyes catching for some unknown reason on the dark trail of hair under Eddie’s naval when he would stretch upward and yawn. Now, of course, he knew the reason.

“Once or twice,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders coyly. In a flurry of motion that had Steve releasing a squeak, Eddie flipped them over on the bed, gripping Steve’s hips and situating him so he was straddling Eddie.

“Only once or twice?” Eddie asked, feigning upset, his hair splayed out on the blankets in a dark halo around his head.

Beautiful, he thought. No sight on earth could compare to the image of Eddie flat on his back, wild-haired and supple, lips kiss-red and eyes glinting in the afternoon sunshine.

“I’m hurt, baby,” he continued, such taunting words from such a lovely mouth. “Here I was jerking off to the thought of you in your tight little running shorts all by my lonesome, and you only thought about me once or twice?”

Steve nearly choked on his own spit, eyes growing wide as he coughed into his fist, totally flung off his game. Eddie flashed him a shit-eating grin that told Steve he had done it on purpose, and Steve smacked at his stomach in retaliation.

“Did you really?” he asked, once he had regained his composure, his fingertips dancing lightly across the planes of Eddie’s chest. Slow and firm, Eddie rubbed his palms up and down Steve’s thighs.

“More than I care to admit. Does that scare you?” And for the first time, Steve watched a small flicker of insecurity spring to life in Eddie’s eyes. He wanted to capture it, hold it in his hands and whisper love to it until it felt brave. Instead, he just shook his head, smiling as he brushed a curl away from the side of Eddie’s face with the back of his fingertips. Down, down, down his hand wandered until he bumped into the cool metal of Eddie’s belt.

“Can I?” he asked, and watched that sliver of doubt wink out in Eddie’s pupils, replaced by something softer. Sweeter.

Eddie smiled at him, squeezing at his thighs as he said, “Yeah, sweetheart, go ahead.” Eddie had never been one to hold back with the pet names, even when they were just getting acquainted. It had been a little jarring the first time the older man had called him baby, just a means to get his attention when Eddie was making sandwiches one day, if Steve could recall. But this time, the term of endearment sat heavy on Steve’s heart, slipped inside and made a home there with a promise to stay.

Sweetheart.

Fuck, he was starting to feel lightheaded.

Steve shuffled back on Eddie’s legs, fingers fumbling at his belt until he managed to get the damn thing undone. Eddie just looked at him with adoring eyes, smoothed his palms over Steve’s knees and smiled at him. Always so sweet, this dark-haired boy – Steve was going to vibrate out of his skin from the sugar high. His jeans were easy once the belt was out of the way, and it took little time until Steve was reaching past the waistband of his boxers, fingers grappling for his length to pull it free.

It had to be said that Steve had seen other dicks before. Years of sports throughout high school hadn’t exactly shielded him from the naked bodies of other boys. And when he had finally come to terms with his sexuality, after crying in Robin’s bedroom and fumbling through his first night out at the gay bars in Chicago, he had experimented for a couple of months. But then he had met Megan, and it had been all her for three years. He’d gone on the occasional date since, at Robin’s urging, even hooked up with a couple of guys that he trusted to take care of him, but his mouth had never watered to see a guy pulled out of his pants before Eddie.

His cock was long and thick, uncut and plump with a pretty vein running up the underside of the shaft, and when Steve wrapped his hand around him, his foreskin pulled back smoothly, exposing a flushed pink head already shiny with precome. Steve drew his hand up, pumping him slowly, and Eddie let out a low hiss.

“You okay?” Steve glanced up to Eddie’s face just as the older man tucked it away behind his hands.

“Yeah,” he said, the sound muffled slightly behind his fingers. “Just feels good.” Steve noted the light blush coloring the tips of Eddie’s ears, and he smiled, squeezing Eddie’s length tighter as he stroked downward.

“You always this sensitive?”

Eddie shook his head, dropping his hands to rest on Steve’s knees again.

“Just for you, I think,” he admitted, shy enough that Steve wanted to lean down and bite the color rising on his cheeks. Kiss, lick, and ruin this man who held half of his heart. Pull him apart just to watch him come back together – a heart stopping picture of what it meant to love, deeper than any ocean Steve had ever stuck his toes in. Steve pushed himself back farther on Eddie’s legs, sliding off the bed entirely and grabbing at Eddie’s legs so he could yank him downwards. The angle wasn’t great, but Eddie seemed to get the message, shuffling down the rest of the way so his ass was at the very edge of the mattress.

Steve rested his palms on Eddie’s jean-clad thighs, tried to let the sturdiness of bone and muscle calm his racing nerves, to no avail.

“I haven’t, uh. I haven’t done this a lot, but…”

Eddie leaned forward, taking his chin between his thumb and forefinger and stroking lovingly. He didn’t kiss him, made no move to, but the look in his eyes might as well have been lips on Steve’s skin.

“God, you’re beautiful, you know that?” he breathed, eyes swimming with doting intensity. And really, that was all Steve needed to feel brave again, just Eddie’s kindness directed on him like sunlight on a cold winter day, but he was greedy for more – thought to himself that he might always want more. So Steve shook his head, wrapped his fingers around Eddie’s cock and gazed up at him with all the innocent intent he could muster.

“Tell me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie practically wheezed, like Steve’s words had stolen all the air from his lungs, but then the babbling started. “So pretty down there, honey. Look at you, god. Like a fucking dream.”

Steve let his hand wander up Eddie’s shaft, sliding the skin back as he stuck out his tongue, giving the tip a kitten lick. He felt Eddie shudder under the palm still anchored on his thigh, his voice trending higher as he fell back onto his elbows.

“Stevie, so good. You’re so good, baby.”

Steve slid his lips around the head, salt spreading across his tongue as his eyelids fluttered. The taste of him was intoxicating, heady and just Eddie all over as he worked his lips slowly, his tongue rubbing against the underside where he knew sensitivity lived. Eddie’s hips bucked violently upward on a particularly rough drag of his tongue, pushing more of his length into Steve’s mouth.

“Stevie, shit, gonna come if you keep doing that,” Eddie whined, grinding his hips into Steve’s touch like he just couldn’t help it, head tipping backwards in rapture.

“Wanna make you feel good,” Steve said after slipping Eddie out of his mouth with a particularly loud slurp, his own cock achingly hard in his pants, but he didn’t care. When Eddie looked down at him, his warm brown eyes had taken on a hard glint, just the slightest sharp edge that had Steve twitching in his jeans, leaning forward to slide Eddie into his mouth again.

“You are, fuck honey, you feel so good,” he lavished, hips rolling gently. “Love your pretty mouth.”

Steve’s eyes almost rolled back in his head, his jaw loosening to take more of Eddie down on instinct as the wash of praise rushed over him. Eddie, for all his whining and writhing, appeared to have regained a semblance of control, reaching forward to brush a thumb against Steve’s cheek.

“That’s it, ah – that’s good, baby,” he praised, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. His hips were still twitching under Steve’s touch, but it was a contained thing, like he was settling in for a long evening of his cock down Steve’s throat, and fuck.

Steve wanted that. Badly, he thought.

He stretched his jaw wider, took a deep breath in and slid down the length of Eddie’s cock, his throat spasming around the sudden intrusion, but he fought against it – wanted to be so good for Eddie. Wanted to make him feel loved, and cherished, and beautiful. But there were hands in his hair, pulling him back up, and Eddie’s face was cast in light shadows of worry when he met his eyes.

“Careful, sweetheart, don’t want to choke, do you?” Eddie used his free hand to wipe at the drool spilling out of the corner of Steve’s mouth, his other hand still locked in Steve’s hair. Taking care of him, Steve thought faintly. Like a pretty, small little thing in need of tending. Steve had lived a life of putting others first, giving away love like he would never run out because it felt like the only way to ensure he’d ever receive it, but the well would always run dry. And what was left was horrible – the dregs of desperation, going through the motions to keep loved ones around. But here was Eddie, wiping drool off of his chin, a hand in his hair because he didn’t want him to choke.

Eddie, who had never failed to check on him, reading his signals like Steve was a book left wide open on the coffee table.

Eddie, who was love incarnate, all easy smiles and perfect comfort in the warmth of his skin.

Steve considered it briefly, eyes dragging to Eddie’s cock, spit-slick and ramrod straight in front of him, and he decided that he very much wanted to choke. Wanted Eddie to hold him down and take care of him – press love into his skin and bring him right up the edge of panic just to talk him back down from the edge. He shivered to think about it, tongue working in his mouth.

“Want to,” he said, looking up into Eddie’s eyes again, feeling suddenly peaceful – like a strange calm had taken control of him at the mere thought of his airway coming under siege.

“Want to what, baby?” Eddie shook Steve’s head lightly, as if he was testing the blissed out look that Steve knew was creeping onto his face.

“Wanna choke,” Steve slurred, eyes slipping to half-mast. Eddie groaned above him, a desperate noise, his hand tightening in Steve’s hair. Pinpricks of pain bloomed across the surface of Steve’s scalp and slipped down his spine to mix with the building wave of pleasure between his thighs – he was already so close.

“Okay, but – you have to tap me if it gets too much,” Eddie instructed, tone taking on a serious edge. “Really tap me, right here on my thigh.” He demonstrated, tapping his fingers solidly on his thigh. “Can you do that for me?” Steve nodded, lunging forward to get Eddie’s cock in his mouth, but Eddie stopped him with a sharp tug to his hair. Steve whined at the sensation, pulling his head away from Eddie’s grasp just to feel the pull again.

“If we’re going to play rough, you need to talk to me, honey, can you do that?” Eddie asked, tipping Steve’s head back with his free hand, eyes meeting his head-on, like this part was important and he didn’t want Steve to miss it.

“Yeah. Yes,” Steve clipped out, a warm, fuzzy feeling falling over his senses like a blanket of fresh fallen snow – making everything muted and mellow.

“That’s good,” Eddie said, brushing over Steve’s bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re so good, Stevie.”

And oh fuck, the praise. It ran over him like silk, featherlight and beautifully soft. He must have made a pathetic little noise, because Eddie smiled down at him, love resting in the crook of his lips.

“Pretty baby, you’re just blissed out already, aren’t you?” He gave Steve’s head another shake, the world tilting slowly on its axis as he did so. “Just needed someone to tell you what a good boy you are. You gonna be good for me, sweet thing?”

Steve nodded, stupid and slow, his body on half-speed.

“Just made for me, huh? Who would’ve known?”

I knew, Steve thought weakly. Even before I really knew – I knew.

“Now, you’re going to tap my leg if you need to stop, right?” Eddie reminded him, tone sliding back to that serious one he used before. The one that meant Steve needed to use his words.

“Yes,” Steve breathed, and then added, although he didn’t quite know where it came from, “Be good for you.”

Eddie kissed him, and it feels like a reward. It was probably three separate shades of fucked up, but Steve just wanted to be good – good for this man who was so kind. open himself up and give Eddie access to every piece of him. He thought maybe, finally, it might be enough.

“Remember to take deep breaths, baby,” Eddie cooed, stroking a thumb across his cheek, still wet from his drool, as he guided Steve’s mouth back to his cock. So sweet and in direct contrast to the mean grip he had on Steve’s hair. To the sudden shove of his head that forced Steve’s jaw open in one rough, swift movement. Eddie’s cock slid down to the root, and Eddie groaned, low and loud, as the head pushed past the ring of Steve’s throat. Steve gagged, felt tears begin to flood his eyes as Eddie rutted his hips upwards, pushed Steve’s nose into the thicket of dark hair at the base of his cock, but he loved it. Felt so full and beautifully stretched, trusting Eddie to pull him off – which he did after only a few seconds.

Steve gasped at the sudden airflow, coughing and sputtering around Eddie’s length as the older man shallowly fucked his mouth, the head of his cock grazing over the flat of Steve’s tongue. Eddie’s eyes were dark, the calm before the storm, when Steve gazed up at him, salt slipping down his cheeks.

“Doing so good, baby,” Eddie said sweetly, as if he hadn’t just shoved his cock down Steve’s throat and made him cry. “Fuck, look at you. Just made to take my cock, weren’t you?”

Steve nodded, feeling beautifully dumb and small – fuzzy in the head and safe in a way that was both incredibly strange and wholly familiar. Because he had felt small before, the horrible, crushing kind of small that came from bad breakups and harsh punishments, but this was different. This was loving. At his core, Steve would always been about ten years old, addicted to his own sad stretches because it was the only time he ever felt anything real, his other emotions never to be trusted in a family that was more interested in playing the part than actually reckoning with the consequences. Eddie held his hair in a bruising grip and said dirty, shameful things to him, and he felt so wonderfully small – like a precious object, designed to be kept safe from harm.

“Deep breath for me, Stevie,” he heard Eddie say, but his mind was still somewhere else, stuck on making sense of his sensations, so the intake of air he managed was not nearly enough. Eddie pushed him down again, his cock slipping into his throat, blocking any hope of breathing as he ground up into Steve’s mouth. Unlike the time before, Steve’s lungs began to scream within a couple seconds, his vision going fuzzy around the edges the longer Eddie stayed buried in his throat. And when Eddie pulled off, Steve could feel that he’d gone a little limp, his body sagging against the mattress between Eddie’s thighs.

“Woah, alright, let’s take a break for a minute.” Eddie’s hand loosened and left his hair, both sets of fingers gripping Steve’s shoulder to help keep him upright. “You with me, sweetheart?”

“Mhm” Steve said, remembering that Eddie liked words. He felt good for remembering – like he had done a good job. Been good for Eddie.

“Come here, baby,” Eddie said quietly, leaning Steve’s head against his thigh, petting over his hair and stroking his cheek while Steve breathed steadily, the world coming into sharper focus after a few moments.

“You feeling okay?” Eddie asked, worry tinting his tone.

“’S good,” Steve answered, still floaty, but more solid. Like the edges of the world had reappeared, but they were still soft.

“How ‘bout you come up here?” Eddie helped haul Steve up into his lap, Steve’s knees resting on either side of his hips, pulled close to Eddie’s chest by a set of strong arms around his back. Steve laid his head heavy on Eddie’s shoulder, and they stayed like that for several minutes, just breathing and being in each other’s arms until Steve had the wherewithal to ask about what exactly had just happened to him.

“God, what was that?”

“Just a little subspace trip, but I’ve got you,” Eddie soothed, sliding a hand up into Steve’s hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. It sent goosebumps down Steve’s arms despite the warm air of Eddie’s bedroom.

“Are you speaking in code? What does that mean?” Steve chuckled, drawing back so he could get a look at Eddie’s face. The older man nuzzled into his nose, humming contentedly.

“It’s a kink thing. Something we can talk about more later, if you want. Just means you slipped away a little bit,” he explained, and then, a little hesitantly, “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it was…wow,” Steve breathed, sliding his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

“You just keep getting better and better, don’t you?” Eddie grinned, and although Steve didn’t know the extent of why, his brain was still buzzing happily at the thought of later. He kissed Eddie, chaste in comparison to their previous activities, just a small gesture to punctuate their brief reprieve.

“Want to fuck me now?” Eddie asked, an eager smile cracking his face.

“Christ, yes please,” Steve groaned, kissing Eddie once more before he pushed him back against the bed. Eddie landed with a thud, laughing all the while as Steve leaned down to attack him with kisses, peppering his lips wherever he could find available skin until both of them were cackling into the warm, dry air of Eddie’s bedroom, hearts singing in tandem as they rolled back and forth on the sheets, bony elbows and over-eager mouths. Loving like there wouldn’t be a tomorrow.

But there would be, and that was, perhaps, the best part.

*****

They were both streaked with sweat by the end of it, the heater in their apartment working overtime. Steve’s clothes were somewhere on the floor, his boxers stained with come from wiping up their mess after the fact, but he would take care of that later. All he cared about in that moment was the feeling of Eddie’s hands in his hair, fingernails stroking soft lines against his scalp while he rested his head on Eddie’s arm, heavy with the precursors of sleep. They would have to get up eventually unless they wanted to give Robin a rude greeting when she got home, but for now, Steve was content to rest in the comfort of Eddie’s bedsheets, surrounded by the smell of him, warm skin against skin.

Their breathing had long-since evened out, aftershocks fading from their muscles, bones heavy against the mattress. Steve squeezed the hand he had resting on Eddie’s hip, raising his head to find Eddie’s eyes.

“I hate to presume a next time,” Steve started, but Eddie snorted.

“No, you don’t.” His nose wrinkled playfully,

“You’re right,” Steve grinned, turning his head to the side to press a kiss to Eddie’s arm. “I don’t. Can we do more of the choky stuff?” This time, Eddie laughed out loud, wrapping Steve up in a tight hug, and rolling them to the other side.

“What? Don’t laugh at me!” Steve protested, a grin stretching so wide across his cheeks he thought his face might crack in half. His voice was half-muffled by Eddie’s shoulder, their legs tangled up like pretzels on the blankets, and Steve thought he had never felt more loved than he did wrapped up in Eddie’s arms, sharing sweat and breath back and forth like they were never meant to belong to one – like they were always designed to belong to both. Steve pushed away from Eddie, if only to be able to breathe better, but he didn’t go far, tucking his head under Eddie’s chin while the older man drew him near again. Eddie sighed above him, a beautiful sound, Steve thought – laced with the peace of hearts settling into place. Steve thumbed at one of the scars on Eddie’s side, the pad of his finger trailing over the stretch of silvery skin, and kissed Eddie’s chest. Just because he could. Because they had found each other, against all odds, and they were in each other’s arms, nestled atop a gnarled mess of blankets while snow began to fall outside Eddie’s bedroom window.

“We really should get up before Robin gets back,” Steve said, slinging his leg over Eddie’s hip.

“Give me five more minutes. I just want to soak this in,” Eddie responded, dropping a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. “Steve Harrington naked in my bed. Merry Christmas to me, indeed.” Steve slapped at his hip, but couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up over his lips – tittering and free like a bluebird singing in his chest. Because the crash of skin was still new, and they would need to talk about everything soon, but Steve knew somehow, like Eddie’s heart had already whispered it to him, that they belonged to each other. He nuzzled in tight to Eddie’s chest, pulling him impossibly closer as love welled up fast and free in his blood. He felt the words forming on his tongue, the tingle of taking the plunge hovering right on the edge – three words that would change everything and nothing at all.

His thoughts were abruptly derailed as the sound of the door unlatching rattled down the hallway. They both froze, listening intently for a brief moment before they were both scrambling off the bed, tossing clothes at each other with barely-contained laughter as Robin’s voice rang out from the front of the apartment.

“Honeys, I’m home!” She called brightly, the sound of her kicking off her boots echoing. “Where are you guys? You have to hear what Sylvia told me on the way home.” Her voice was getting closer. Damn, she moved fast. Steve had managed to get his pants on, and was hunting for his sweater, but Eddie’s foot had gotten stuck in his pant leg. “You will seriously not believe-“ Robin said from the doorway, right as Eddie tumbled to the floor with a squawk, still pants-less.

“Oh my god, gross,” Robin groaned, her hand flying up to shield her eyes as she turned in place a couple of times, like she wasn’t sure if she should leave or stick around. Eddie was cackling on the floor, and Steve, despite being halfway mortified, was also laughing behind his fist. “Are you guys – ? Hold on.” She peeked through her fingers to shoot Steve a pointed look, raising her finger at him. “You. We are so going to talk about this.” Finally, she turned on her heels and sped down the hallways, but not before she called out, “Eddie, get your fucking pants on!”

Eddie pulled his torso up onto the edge of the bed, muscles weak with laughter as he stretched his arms out onto the blankets. Steve crawled onto the mattress, dropping down onto his stomach in front of Eddie. Eddie beamed up at him, eyes damp from laughing, and when Steve kissed him, sweet and soft around the edges of laughter, he felt everything lock into place.

“I think I love you,” Steve said against Eddie’s lips, his chest full to bursting.

“You think?” Eddie grinned, kissing the corner of Steve’s mouth, his hands dancing across Steve’s shoulders. “I know, Steve.” Steve pulled back, hazel eyes meeting deep brown, and surrendered the last pieces of himself over to Eddie Munson’s gentle hands.

“Come find me when you’re ready?” He asked, pressing a final kiss to Eddie’s lips, just because he could. Because he was in love. Because Eddie loved him.

“Always, my love,” he said, three simple words that burrowed straight down into Steve’s heart, made a home there and planted seeds. He dropped a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder before he hauled himself up off the bed, confidently strolling down the hallway towards the kitchen. Towards Robin, and a conversation that they would all laugh about later. His spine felt straight, bones strong under his skin, because Eddie would come for him, like he always had. And that, he thought, was the best gift he could have hoped to receive this Christmas.

On his way to the kitchen, he passed by the little tree that Robin set up every year on the side table in their living room – it’s tiny fake needles and little plastic ornaments. Its miniature string of lights and the small golden star perched at the top, glowing a warm yellow.

He reached out, brushed the back of his index finger across its shiny surface, and smiled.