Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eddie Munson left Hawkins and everyone in it without saying goodbye.

Well, that’s not entirely true. On that fateful February day, he said goodbye to Wayne with a hug, the name of a city, and a promise to call when he found somewhere to rest his head. His uncle understood in the end, the need to connect with a life that was robbed from him. Besides, no matter how much the police rescinded their statements nor any proof of his innocence provided by the feds, the greater population of Hawkins’ society never fully believed him. And Eddie wasn’t about to let his uncle suffer any longer under the constant threat of spam calls, graffitied siding, and brick-broken windows.

So Eddie left Hawkins and everyone in it with a hug for Wayne and a single letter to the people he knew would be better off without him. Even his own almost-boyfriend, if he could ever truly call Steve anything more than a friend needing to experiment. Best not to think about what could have been. Steve would be fine, so Eddie needed to be more than fine.

Eddie didn’t stop driving until well after he hit the border through Terre Haute into Illinois. Only then did he feel his body relax as the weight of Indiana and all the torture it put him through finally lifted from his shoulders.

And that night – while sleeping in the back of his van that he pulled-off at a rest stop along some highway just an hour or so shy of his destination – Eddie had his second best night of sleep in over a decade, keeping the first one and the boy he spent it with locked safe in his memory.

That same night, held in the comfort of his best friend’s arms over five hundred miles away, another boy with nothing but a dozen roses and a broken heart had the worst night of sleep in his life. The first of many to come. But Eddie didn’t know that, and he probably never would.

But we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.

~~~

Robin Buckley knows exactly three things.

One, Eddie Munson is a silly, silly man.

Two, Steve cannot do anything but love him.

And Three, she equally hates them both.

Okay, that’s a lie, because she loves each of them in her own way. Steve was practically her mind-melded twin, and Eddie was a dork who deserved friends who care about him.

All that in mind, she didn’t know how to deal with them any longer. Steve wouldn’t stop making goo-goo eyes at Eddie whenever they hung out together, which became increasingly more often after graduation, and Eddie kept looking at Steve with equally sad puppy-dog eyes as if Steve is a treat someone told him he couldn’t have.

And when Steve finally told her in far, far too much detail that they finally hooked up, she was positive that it would all be over. Sure, seeing Steve not-so-subtly clinging to Eddie whenever possible was almost worse than the goo-goo eyes, but at least he was happy and no longer hopelessly pining.

She should have known something was wrong when Eddie’s eyes never really changed.

But no, she was just as taken aback from Eddie’s disappearance as anyone. The only difference between her and Steve’s reaction was her anger sat in place of his grief. Neither of them have anywhere to direct their emotions at but each other, so she held Steve while he cried and silently planned for the chewing out of a lifetime when she finally tracked down Eddie’s whereabouts.

The kids knew nothing, of course. Because that bastard didn’t even have the nerve to tell them either. Wayne knew, and only Wayne, and his beloved Uncle wouldn’t peep. Not even when he started inviting her and Steve and the others over for supper. She supposed he felt Eddie’s absence just as much, and he also loved Eddie more than enough to respect his wishes to stay gone. All they were allowed to know was what Eddie wrote in the letter.

"I need to go. Don't look for me. It's better for all of us this way."

Nancy, bless her, tried to help. But Robin knew it was a long shot that he ended up anywhere near Boston. Still, she promised Robin she’d keep her ear to the ground and report back with any news on his whereabouts.

Robin did the only thing she thought might help them all: help them all move on. Using her work perks at the library, she poured through old Hawkins newspapers in their archives, looking for any clues to Eddie’s early life. She found part-time work in the community college bookstore over in Muncie and took Steve with her to the only apartment she could find that would rent to them. She helped Steve find a job of his very own, only to help him get a job at the bookstore when he missed one too many shifts from his depressive grief. She even had Steve teach her how to drive, something for him to look forward to each week aside from their regular trips to Hawkins to catch up with the twerps at Uncle Wayne’s weekly supper. Eventually, it all started to stick.

And then, maybe eighteen months or so after Eddie’s departure, she found her lead.

She knew it was likely a dead end. But when she struck gold in finding Eddie’s birth announcement to Al Munson of Hawkins and his wife Elizabeth of Memphis in an old Muncie newspaper of all places, she had to stop herself from rejoicing throughout the college’s small library archives. It was her own certified Christmas 1988 miracle.

She knew she couldn’t tell Steve, though. The sleepless nights had only just started to subside, partially because she let him sleep in her bed on the nights his “casual girlfriend” wasn’t staying over. She’d introduced herself as Anna, but Robin usually called her “Annie” if only to piss her off a little bit on the few occasions they’d seen each other. Robin knew it wouldn’t last, just like Kimberly and Lori and William couldn’t. No amount of curly hair, freckles, or dark brown eyes could replace the Eddie Munson-shaped hole in her best friend’s heart.

Which is exactly why she couldn’t tell him. Not when she called anywhere she could find in Memphis, Indiana before hitting a dead end. Not when she made three phone calls in Memphis, Tennessee and heard Eddie’s singing voice in the background of the random bar on her phone list. Not even when the bartender confirmed that yes, Eddie was there but busy with his set, and she could leave a number and call later.

She didn’t do any of it. Just knowing where he was had settled something deep in her chest. It was enough.

So she kept that secret in that place. Buried deep in her chest behind her heart. For the day she could face Eddie first before he even thought about seeing Steve again. No more hurting.

She would protect her best friend for as long as it took. Even if it meant asking for forgiveness.

~~~

Steve Harrington wasn’t stupid, no matter what anyone else might say.

No matter what his heart told him, his brain knew and understood that Eddie was long gone.

Really, his heart was the stupid one here. It got him into this mess in the first place. His heart was the one who fell for Eddie during that fateful spring break. His heart is the one that yearned for more than just friendship. His heart is the one that told him Eddie felt the same after he finally broke and kissed him under a goddamn mistletoe. His heart led him astray and denied that Eddie would ever leave, because he was surrounded with people who loved him, especially Steve, who tried to say as much without those exact words.

Maybe that’s where he’d gone wrong.

Looking back, his brain could see the missing pieces so clearly. He knew how the town still treated Eddie like a pariah, like someone to be feared and hated instead of revered and loved. He knew how much Eddie hated Hawkins and most everything in it. He knew about the string of back luck that followed Eddie everywhere, from losing his mom too young, to the shit with his dad throughout his whole life, to his house burning down that made him move in with Wayne permanently, even to Principal Higgins and that nightmares that plagued him at all hours. Steve knew all of this, yet he still hoped that he and everyone else who loved him would be enough for Eddie to stay and choose them.

In the end, it wasn’t. They were never enough. And Steve never figured out how to forgive himself for not trying harder.

He also knew that, over five years later, Eddie was not coming back. That he had moved on and into his own life, wherever the fuck it might be. That he probably found someone nice, someone he trusts and maybe even loves that isn’t also tied to his past like a sore that won’t heal. Steve understood. Eddie was never meant to stay in Hawkins forever. Probably not even Indiana. Eddie Munson was meant to be a part of the greater world beyond their doorsteps. And Steve was meant to stay behind, listening to his favorite song during the nights he couldn’t sleep and longing for something to feel as good and welcomed as “Walking in Memphis” makes him feel.

Steve also knew, in spite of her attempts at nonchalance, that Robin was hiding something from him.

He didn’t have proof, exactly, but his gut told him so. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact thing – her aside chitchats with Wayne every so often when they’d return to Hawkins to catch up over a hot meal, how she’d instantly redirect the conversation if it even so much as inched towards the possibility of talking about Eddie, even in her eyes and how they always stared at his dates like they were a thing to analyze instead of befriend – but he could sense that she knew more than she’d ever let on.

But he loved her, to the ends of the Earth and back, so he never pushed more than she gave. And sure, his several short-lived relationships always questioned their ability to just be friends without ulterior motives or a romantic history. Then again, those people also never saw even a portion of the shit that he and Robin survived, only to never tell the tale. But beyond that, he kept Robin in his life because he loved her. And he told her as often as possible. And she always told him the same right back.

Steve may not have had the love he wants, but he had the love he needed. It was enough, for the most part.

So when she handed him an envelope as they finally took down the ornaments from their Christmas tree, Steve swore he could see a piece of the armor fall away from hiding whatever secret she’d been keeping for who knew how many years at this point.

“What’s this, Bobs? We’re literally dismantling Christmas right now. Can’t it wait?”

She sipped from her coffee mug and sighed. “Something long overdue for us both. Just open it, Steve. Please?”

Gently startled, he set down the string of lights he’d been winding and opened the off-putting manila envelope.

It took all of two seconds to recognize the handwriting. He’d read the letter on top over a dozen times, about Eddie needing to leave and make something of his life outside of Hawkins. But what surprised him was a second letter stacked neatly underneath, newer and addressed to more than just to ‘the good ones’ like last time. No, no this letter hosted the same handwriting, scrawl just over the edge of neat and into casual without looking rushed. Bolder, but the shapes were still the same, and Steve lost his breath.

Dear Steve and Robin,

I’ve started and tossed out over a dozen attempts to write this letter, and every single one makes me sound like an ass, which I kinda am a bit. Hopefully it's better to recognize that bit right out the gate.

I know it’s been a long time, and you probably want nothing to do with me anymore, but I need to ask you for a favor. Now that Wayne’s retired from the plant, and with most everyone moved on from Hawkins anyway, he’s gonna move in with me. Not sure why he’d torture himself again like that, but at least he’ll get his own room this time instead of a lumpy old couch.

With my job, I’m not able to take the time off and come up to Hawkins to help him pack up and move down. He’s told me he doesn’t have too much, but the last thing any of us needs is a backbroken Wayne. He talks about you two often, and I can’t thank you enough for staying in his life all these years. If you could do him one last big favor, more for him than me, could you help him pack and load up the truck? You don’t need to drive down here either. I’ll be here on my end, obviously, but I don’t want him packing up and rolling out  without a goodbye like I did. He deserves to know people care about him too.

If you can’t or won’t help him, I understand, and Wayne will too. Old man’s as stubborn as they come. Must be the Munson in him somewhere. He won’t ask for the help, and I’m not even sure if my asking will be any better, but I needed to try. Just in case I haven’t burned every bridge to a crisp.

Hope things are good in Muncie. If not, I hope they get better soon.

Eddie

P.S. Wayne slipped me your address a while ago, so here’s my phone number. For emergencies or something. 901-278-5364

His hands trembled as he reached the end of the letter. 

“Seven years.”

“Steve-”

“No, no no, almost seven whole fucking years, Robin. Gone without any sort of trace for seven damn years, then this? Out of the blue?” He was yelling, choking on something between mad and appalled and overwhelmed. Tears hit his cheeks before his next sentence. “Seven, seven-”

Robin pulled him in her arms, and all seven years of grief and tears fell from his eyes.

“I already chewed him out on the phone,” Robin admitted, her own misty eyes making a damp spot on his shoulder. “In case you were wondering.”

A broken laugh escaped his throat. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because I love you, Stevopher,” something she always said as easy as breathing. “And he deserved it.”

He whispers a small “thank you” before giving his best friend one last squeeze tight.

They took one look at each other as they parted, and they agreed on their next course of action without uttering a single word.

They weren’t just going to help Wayne with the packing. They would both move him there in person, wherever it may be. Because Wayne had become their own pseudo-uncle in lieu of parents who disowned them both, and they love him more than enough to make the trip. And, well… they had a reunion to attend.

And for the first time since Valentine’s Day, 1987, Steve Harrington breathed a little bit easier.

Underneath it all, Eddie fully knows he’s a bit of a dumbass. Seven years on your own in the blues capital of the world can teach a person a few things.

And yet… he’s still dumbstruck when, just as he finishes pulling his lasagna out of the oven, he peeks through his kitchen window and watches as a familiar bimmer pulls into his drive behind Wayne’s truck and trailer. And he just stands there, lasagna burning him through the oven mitt, because he’s an idiot and thought that the Wonder Twins would listen to his insistence that they “don’t need to come,” especially in February and its unpredictable weather.

Fuck.

He sets the lasagna on the counter and watches as Robin steps out of the passenger side, hair cropped shorter than he remembered, but she still looks like the Robin he knew and loved. She turns around and says something back into the car, and Eddie feels his stomach fall right out of his ass.

Steve Harrington, seven years older and looking better than fucking ever, steps out of the driver’s side door. Clad in flannel with golden wire-rimmed glasses adorning his face, Steve looks like actual sex on legs as he runs his fingers back through his thick, nearly shoulder-length hair. Eddie kicks himself harder than ever before. Time’s been good to him. Robin too, but especially Steve.

Eddie’s pretty sure he won’t survive their time at his house, however short it may be. But the only way to test the theory would be to actually meet them outside.

He pushes himself away from the counter and heads to the door. He throws on the nearest pair of sneakers he can find and takes a deep, deep fucking breath before taking a step outside.

Steve’s already taking boxes out of his trunk as Eddie steps onto the gravel driveway. His palms sweat – wait, can palms sweat? – so he rubs them on his jeans and takes a step towards the bimmer, only to hear his name called from the truck!

“Eddie!” Wayne’s beaming as he walks around the truck. He looks good, older since the last time he saw him when Wayne came down for his own birthday in September, but he looks relaxed.

“Uncle Wayne!” He practically leaps over before wrapping him in a hug. “Retirement looks good on you, old man.”

“Who’re you calling old, son,” Wayne teases with a hair ruffle. Eddie had missed that.

He smiles, looking up at the man who practically raised him. “I’m glad you made it in one piece.”

Wayne sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Almost got turned around in Illinois. Probably woulda been in Chicago by now ‘stead of Memphis if it weren’t for these two.”

Eddie turns to where Wayne points, towards the dynamic duo at the bimmer.

Right. Robin and Steve.

He’s happy to see them, truly, but seeing each other after so long is just as awkward as he thought it would be. Wayne shuffles beside him as the pause grows larger. Robin, ever the saint, breaks the silence for all of them.

“You gonna say hello, Munson?” She crosses her arms over her chest, as if to dare him to cross her. “Or has being away for seven years destroyed any manners you may have had?”

He catches the glint in her eye, and he holds on for dear life.

“I don’t know, Birdie,” he starts, taking a step closer. “I’d hug you, but I’m pretty sure I’ll get pecked alive if I try.”

She rolls her eyes at him and smiles. “Just get your ass over here, Tedward, before I freeze mine off.”

He closes the gap and tries to give her the equivalent of seven years worth of missed hugs. He knows it won’t come close, but he owes it to them to at least try.

“The hair suits you,” he says as they part. “Shows the world the true Buckley edge we all know.”

She bows her head at him. “Thank you, thank you. Looks like you took the length they took from me.”

“Thank you kindly for your donation.”

Over her shoulder, he takes a glimpse at Steve just… looking at him. His face gives nothing away, still as ice as his hand fidgets with some sort of ring on his pointer finger.

Eddie softens as he steps forward to embrace his friend. Steve takes a step back.

Ahh, well… figures.

He changes tactics, holding out a hand instead. “It’s good to see you, Steve.”

“Likewise.” Steve doesn’t take his hand.

Oh.

Steve clears his throat. “So, where should we bring Wayne’s stuff?”

“Right, uh,” he retracts his hand and wills his brain to think through the adrenaline rush of embarrassment and shame flooding his body. “Right through the door, kitchen’s straight in towards the right, bedroom is the first door down the hall on the left. But before we unload the whole caravan, I just pulled dinner out of the oven. It's getting late anyway, and you all had a long drive, so most of this can probably wait until morning.”

Steve just nods and picks up his box, walking past Eddie into the house. Eddie watches him the entire time.

“I deserved that, didn’t I?”

Robin saddles up next to him. “Yeah, you kinda did. Do, in fact. I probably would have done worse than the cold shoulder.”

“Considering the slight hearing damage you gave me through the phone after Christmas, I would have to agree.” He lightly juts his elbow at her, and she responds with a smirk and a full elbow blow to his stomach.

“Okay,” Eddie squeaks while doubled-over as Robin grabs her own box from the car, “I deserved that, too.”

“You bet your ass you did, Tedward,” she calls out as she walks towards the house with her own box.

Touché, Birdie. Touché.

Eddie gathers his breath again and moves to grab at least one thing out of Wayne’s truck. Since he already had the brand new bed all set up and ready, the four of them bring in the essentials before staying inside for the night. They even manage to get through dinner without complaint. Even if Steve stays silent the entire time.

After Wayne goes to his room after dinner, Eddie decides to address at least one of the elephants in his kitchen.

“Look, I... I’m glad you two didn’t listen and came down anyway,” he admits, fiddling with his last few bites on his plate. “I know Wayne appreciated it.”

It’s silent for a beat before Steve speaks up. “Do you? Appreciate it?”

Eddie deflates. “Absolutely. I, I know it’s been too long, but I have missed you guys. I mean it. I just... couldn't stay there any longer.” 

The room is silent again, and he catches the look in Steve’s eyes that tells him everything. So, different tactic.

He swallows before asking the question scratching at the back of his mind. “Are you staying long? In town? Or are you driving back tomorrow?”

Robin presses her lips into a line. “We can stay if you wa-”

A loud thunk hits the table from underneath and rattles the silverware. Steve’s cold glare at Robin tells Eddie everything he needs to know, and he deflates a little.

“Look,” he starts after a beat, “I messed up, okay? I don't regret leaving, but I know now that I shouldn’t have left like I did. I thought it was easier, for all of us. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s throat goes dry as framed amber eyes glare into his own. “F-for not telling you. Or keeping in touch. I should have given y’all the choice to stay in touch, not just… giving you nothing.”

Robin smirks through the glass of water at her lips. “Y’all? Are you turning southern on us, Munson?” Even Steve flashes the hint of a grin at that one. He holds onto it for dear life.

“It was bound to rub off eventually,” he jokes. He quickly clears his throat before shifting gears again. “If you’ll do me the honor of letting me flex these new MidSouth muscles, don’t stay somewhere in town. They’re overpriced and likely booked up for the holiday with a bunch of lovey-dovey couples. My office has a pullout, or even the living room couch, so y’all are more than welcome to stay here.”

“No need,” Steve starts, breaking Eddie’s heart a little before continuing. “I’ll take the living room. Robin can have the office.”

She scoffs. “We share all the time, Steve! It’s just a pullout.”

“Sure we do,” he agrees, “but you start your placebo pills tomorrow, and I know you’ll take up all the room on your bed this whole next week. And yes, before you ask, I packed chocolate and extra supplies in my bag in case you forgot.” Steve’s smirking as he stands up and brings his dishes to the sink, and Eddie can only sit back in shock and horror as Robin yells across the room.

“Steven Joseph Otis Harrington, you fucking bastard, you didn’t need to announce it to him” while she follows him to the sink and pours the rest of her glass of water over his head. With anyone else, Eddie would be absolutely concerned, but the smile on both of their faces tells him they’re still the same old Robin and Steve. Apparently just with even fewer boundaries.

Robin comes back to the table and takes her and Eddie’s now-finished plate. “Dinner was delicious, Eddie. And you made it, not Stouffer's?”

He nods. “I did. I worked a job as a line cook at a bar when I first got here, and I kind of enjoy cooking now. And I wanted to impress Wayne.”

“It was good,” Steve admits while rinsing the plate Eddie hadn’t realized he’d been washing.

“Hey hey hey,” he says, shoo-ing at him as he races to the sink. “You’re my guests now, so I’ll wash the dishes. I’ll finish this up, and you get your things from the car. Then we’ll set you all up for the night.”

Steve holds his hands up and steps away. “Sink’s all yours, then.”

He walks away, and his arm accidentally brushes against Eddie’s back. Well, he’s pretty sure it was an accident. A shiver threatens to work it's way up his spine, but Eddie shoves it back down where it came from.

Eddie makes quick work of washing the remaining dishes, getting a few of Wayne’s mugs in the cupboard, and putting the remaining lasagna away before attending to his guests. He pulls out the extra linens that he actually keeps on hand these days and sets up Steve’s bed in the living room, followed by Robin’s bed in his office.

“Just give him time,” she tells Eddie in a whisper as he puts the final touches on her bed. “Seven years is a long gap to bridge. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”

He sighs. “I guess I thought he would have been fine without me. I just, you know, thought he was experimenting. Getting something out of his system before he inevitably settled down with a girl who could give him the life he actually wanted. I've been less to worse people.”

“That wasn’t for you to decide, Eddie.” She’s quiet, sincere with him where she’d previously just been angry. “Did you ever ask him what you were? What he actually wanted? Maybe, when he’s ready, you need to start there. And then apologize.”

Eddie shudders back. “But I did apologize.”

“Not to Steve,” she says, as if that explains everything. Hell, it probably does and he just can’t see it yet somehow.

So he nods like he understands what she means. “Well, sleep tight, and just… don’t mess with anything in here, okay? This office is sacred, and I don’t want to lose stuff because it moved.”

She nods at him in return. “Roger that, Captain Tedward.”

He smiles. “Sleep tight, Birdie.”

He shuts the door behind him as he steps into the hallway. He already knows he’s in for an office search and rescue mission at some point. It’s Robin, after all.

Back in the living room, Eddie catches a glimpse of the coals in the fireplace giving off their last flicks of flame for the evening. He knows the house will stay warm through the night, but he crosses to the back doors and brings in a smaller split log from outside and places it on the embers anyway. Just in case. Paper said it would be chilly tonight.

Behind him, Steve is already settled and fast asleep. He lets his gaze linger on Steve’s sleeping form, face relaxed and arms resting across his torso above the covers. The light of the new flames reflect on his skin and dance across it, flitting their way between each mole they can find. Eddie's eyes eventually land on his face, like they always do. He notes a new mole he didn’t remember back then, one hiding just above his lip and another beside his nose. Might be scars, or just freckles, but something about the placements feels intentional, like the sun needed to leave its kiss for everyone to see while hiding in plain sight.

Steve shifts a bit and scares Eddie out of his daze. He steps back, having unknowingly moved closer as he examined his friend. He goes back to the kitchen and puts the dry dishes into their cupboards as quietly as possible before heading to his own room. Eddie all but collapses on his bed, cursing his own young stupidity.

Despite knowing Wayne is safe and sound under his roof, Eddie doesn’t sleep well that night. He knows now that needs to make things right with his friends. He won’t let seven years go by ever again. He can’t.

Eddie wakes the next morning with a cold nose and a headache. Rude.

He briefly contemplates doing the bare minimum and spending the entire day in bed before recalling that, oh yeah, he has three people in his house, and the fire likely needs restocking. Double rude.

The alarm clock beside him, while silent, reads 6:41 A.M. in glowing red numbers, not even five minutes before it’s due to go off. Triple rude.

He lays there until the faintest of the blaring alarm begins before he slaps it off, not wanting to unnecessarily wake his guests with his siren of an alarm. On any other Tuesday, he’d slap the snooze a few more times before making his pot of coffee. He’d likely skip breakfast before heading into the studio to work out some lyrics or record the guitar track for a new song. Hell, he may even settle down for the night with a whisky and a book by the fire. But today was not any other Tuesday.

Luckily, he’d already taken the day off, knowing of Wayne’s arrival. And just because two of his friends surprised him doesn’t mean those plans need to change. So Eddie rolls out of bed, half-asses the stretches he’s been doing every morning for the better part of a decade, and throws on sweats to protect himself from the chill that’s settled throughout the house overnight.

Eddie tiptoes down the hallway to the kitchen, which is hard considering his slippers tap against the hardwood flooring with every step, but the last thing he wants is bare feet on a cold floor. He whips together his normal pot of coffee – a dark roast with a dash of equal parts cocoa powder and freshly-grated nutmeg mixed into the grounds – and gets it brewing before attending to the dying fire. If he’s going to risk waking Steve, he’s going to have coffee started.

Eddie rounds the corner of the couch and smiles to himself as he sees Steve’s sleeping form, starfishing with blankets tossed aside despite the chill in the air. He’s still fast asleep, quiet except for the lightest of snores every few breaths or so. The morning light is dim, emphasized by the lightest of reddish-orange embers from the fire, but the sight is enough to hit Eddie with a wave of familiarity for the life he gave up to get the life he has now. Of sleepy mornings on his old mattress and eyelashes on the pillowcase.

Eddie turns to tend to the fire, breathing life back into it with tinder and kindling and firewood. He drapes the blanket back over Steve before making his exit.

Back in the kitchen, he sips his coffee and decides it’s a "pancakes” day, but with a twist to best feed four people. Coffee sipped and oven preheated, he greases a sheet pan and makes a rough pancake mix before dumping the contents on the sheet, spreading it to the edges. He even digs out the frozen berries he grew last summer and some chocolate chips that had been hiding in the back of his pantry to decorate the top. Satisfied, he eases his creation into the oven and starts on the rest of breakfast.

When the first rays of sunlight filter their way through the kitchen window, Wayne shuffles into the kitchen and immediately starts rifling in the cabinets.

Eddie laughs lowly as he attends to the package of sausage links already open in his hands. “Cupboard above the coffeepot.”

As he opens the door, Wayne gives him something of a grunt in approval that Eddie recognizes from the many mornings back in Hawkins after a night on their lumpy couch. He pours his cup into the “Maxwell House” mug and takes a seat at the kitchen table.

Eddie gets the sausage to start frying in the pan before he changes gears and grabs the paper stashed in his mail pile. “It’s from Saturday, but there might be a new one in the mailbox if you want that instead.”

“This is just fine, son,” Wayne assures as he sets his mug down. “Just glad to be here with you.”

“Me too.” Eddie sips his own maple-sweetened cup, the painful edges of his headache already smoothing down with the caffiene. “Sleep okay? Bed not too hard?”

Wayne cocks his head. “Well enough. Coffee’s not bad either.”

“Better than the instant shit the plant provided?”

He nods, opening the paper in front of him. “No doubt about that.”

Satisfied with the highest praise in Wayne-speak, Eddie busies himself with the sausage and eggs once again.

Twenty or so minutes later as he pulls the sheet pancake from the oven, Robin stomps her way down the hallway and into the kitchen.

“Never knew you to be an early riser, Buckley.”

She hums, rifling through the cupboards. “My brain thinks it’s after eight, and your coffee called my name. Steve up yet?”

“No. Still sleeping by the fireplace.”

Eddie watches as Robin immediately pauses and shifts into a mildly menacing grin. She turns on her heels and walks through the archway between the rooms. A shriek followed by roaring laughter tells him everything he needs to know. Seven years is a long gap to bridge, but some things didn’t change. He pours two more mugs and sets them at the table, along with some plates and silverware.

After a few minutes of what he interprets as friendly bickering, Robin and Steve eventually make their way into the kitchen. Eddie purposely turns himself away from gazing at Steve’s sleep-rumpled hair. After all, he’s not allowed to do that anymore, and he’s already done too much to cross whatever boundary exists between them now.

Robin notices the mugs right away and takes her seat. “Thanks, Munson. Got any sugar or cream?”

He winces. “Sorry, I don’t usually drink mine with cream, but I have some milk and maple syrup or honey if that works. We can grab some later when we go into town later today if you’d like.”

She nods, but Steve’s eyebrows shoot up from his sleepy furrow. “Maple syrup in coffee?”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, Stevie. It may just change your life.” He smiles, but Steve doesn’t smile back. However, he does nod, so Eddie turns to the fridge and sets both the syrup and the milk bottles on the table. Robin immediately douses her coffee with syrup before following up with the milk, but Steve only stirs in a spoonful before taking his own sip.

Eddie watches as Steve’s face relaxes into it, eyes closing as if to savor the coffee that much more. Robin’s still stirring her concoction when he finally sets his mug down.

“Oh my God,” Steve practically moans in a whisper. “You always did make the best coffee.”

He smirks into his own mug. “Did?”

Steve looks up at him, lifting his to his mouth once again. “Do. Definitely do.”

Eddie takes his wins where he can get them.

Robin and Steve each grab a section of the newspaper already finished by Wayne as Eddie finishes off the scrambled eggs. The papers are set aside once food is served, and Eddie does his best to enjoy his company while he has it.

Near the end of their breakfast, a knock at the front door interrupts their conversation. Three heads shoot up, but Eddie already knows exactly who it is.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” He jogs to the door and opens it to a blast of cold air and the droopiest ears he’d recognize anywhere.

“Good morning, favorite neighbor,” William greets him first, chipper with slicked hair and rosy-cheeks from the cold. “Gwenny and I were on our morning walk with Sam when we noticed the new truck in the driveway. Hope it’s okay we’ve stopped over.”

“Of course! Come in, come in!” He nods to his beloved neighbors before turning to the bloodhound at his feet. “You too, Sammy. Come warm up, sweet girl.” Sam darts inside before her dad and sister, probably smelling the remnants of sausage still in the air.

Gwen gives him a side hug as he shuts the door behind him. “I almost went to work early and left my dad to his own devices, but I saw the other car. I take it Wayne isn’t the only one here?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, just… some old friends. I think you’ll like them.”

She raises her eyebrows at him, but she keeps quiet as they all walk into the kitchen. Sam’s already there and making herself right at home next to Wayne, giver of treats and ear rubs to any animal that crosses his path.

Eddie quickly introduces everyone, uncle and friends to his favored coworker and her dad. He brews another pot of coffee as William settles in the seat next to Wayne, Gwen next to Robin.

In a moment of surprise, Steve takes the dirty dishes off the table and brings them to the sink. Eddie’s about to tell him to sit back down, but his friend stays firm.

“It’s too much to do on your own, and I can only take so much of Robin’s attempts at flirting. So I’ll wash, you dry.”

And Eddie can’t really say no to that. Especially when he looks at the table and sees not just one but (arguably) four pairs of goo-goo eyes.

“Deal,” he agrees as he turns to the sink, pulling a towel out of the drawer. “Gwen’s not much better.”

Steve chuckles as he dips his hands into the soapy water. He washes each dish with reverence and care before handing it to Eddie to be dried and put away. They work in silent tandem, saying nothing out loud but falling into something simple, easy. It feels like a rope tossed across the chasm created by the years apart.

William, Gwen, and Sam eventually take their leave with a promise to return for dinner. Eddie stocks the fire once again before they shift into moving mode. Within an hour’s time, they manage to get everything from the truck and car into the house. Wayne insists on unpacking some things before they head into town, leaving the rest to get themselves ready for a visit to town. Even if he only has them for a day, he wants to show his friends why he hasn’t been able to leave Memphis. He thinks they understand.

He swallows the part of his brain that wants them to stay.

~~~

Of all the things Robin expected for their trip to Eddie’s, she didn’t expect to have everything she knew about Eddie Munson to be completely turned on her head. Or to meet the most gorgeous woman she’s ever seen, but that’s beside the point. The point is Eddie, while still very much himself, has changed, maybe even grown. She thinks it’s for the better. Well, she hopes.

A quick rifle through his home office – because, let’s be honest, she was not going to listen to his half-assed threat not to snoop, and she's a librarian who knows how to put things away, dammit – revealed more detail about his life than he’d probably ever tell without coercion. Her archivist-level snooping reveals notebooks of song lyrics, a photo album of his time in Memphis, and a fucking Grammy nomination medal for “Song of the Year” from 1992 that had been tucked away in a drawer.

In seven short years, their friend Eddie had gone from Hawkins’ local pariah to a Grammy-nominated songwriter... with his own house.

She is both increasingly frustrated at his absence and more understanding of why he stayed away. They should have been able to be there for him, to celebrate with him… but if the risk was losing all of this before he even got it?

Robin doesn’t like it, but she does understand. Now she just has to break the news to Steve that his ex-boyfriend also wrote his favorite song. But considering that she also knows Eddie’s name is nowhere on the medal, just a note signed by Marc Cohn under the medal thanking him for the song… there’s a good chance Eddie didn’t want anyone to know.

Fuck her and her nosy nature.

She almost spills the beans when she wakes him up that first morning. But he is still sleepy, and Eddie is still very much in earshot, so she holds back. And then she gets distracted by delicious coffee followed by curly auburn hair and bright green eyes who won’t stop looking at hers, so she kinda forgets all about it.

Robin’s reminded when Eddie brings them into the heart of Memphis itself. And beyond the window displays for Valentine’s in the window, she understands why he came. Why he stayed.

Eddie shows them everything, from the bar where he got his first job to a full tour of the recording studio where he works now. He tells them over lunch how he decided on Memphis, telling them about how his mom grew up there and he wanted some connection with her again, even managed to find her childhood home. His previously sad Bambi eyes are older, maybe a little wiser, but absolutely happier. Hell, she’d call them damn-near filled with wonder.

Eddie’s finally found his home. Even if it meant not including them in it at all. Yet.

Because by the time they hit the grocery store, Robin’s decided they’re not leaving until both dinguses get the chance to talk it out once and for all. And she also wants Gwen’s number, but that’s not the point.

Eddie’s lovely neighbors come over for dinner that night just as planned, and Robin lets herself get sidetracked by Gwen’s melodic voice and alluring gaze, praying that any of her attempts at flirting are landing somehow.

She gets so caught up in her conversation that she almost misses how Steve isn’t quite opening up to Eddie. She’ll kick at him under the table every so often, especially since Wayne’s keeping great company with Mister William who makes the best peach cobbler Robin’s ever had. The least Steve can do is just talk to Eddie like they can be friends again. Right?

It isn’t until William and Gwen leave for their own house again that Steve drops the bombshell on the group.

“So, Wayne, think it’s alright if Robin and I head back in the morning?”

Eddie nearly breaks a plate in the kitchen sink. “You’re leaving already?”

Steve presses his lips in a line, the way he gets when he’s purposely holding himself back. “This visit has been good, great even, but we have lives to get back to in Muncie. And I’d rather not overstay our welcome. You understand, right?” 

Eddie nods and turns back to the dishes in the sink, deflated. And Robin won’t stand for it.

“Come on, Steve. We’ve already been gone half the workweek. What’s the point in showing up on Friday for one day with books and actual anklebiters?”

He glares at her from the table. “Not the point, Robin.”

“Yeah, okay, sure it isn’t. We’re in a beautiful house in a wonderful city trying to catch up with a friend we haven’t seen in years.” She hip-checks Eddie at the sink. “What’s the harm in staying longer?”

Eddie finally catches the bone she’s trying to throw at him. “If you’re worried about overstaying, I don’t mind. It’s been really nice having some company around here.”

Wayne chuckles from his seat. “You just don’t want to be alone with your old man, huh Ed?”

“No, no no,” he insists with a wave of a sudsy spoon, “I’m more than happy you’re here, Uncle. And I want my friends to feel welcome here.”

Steve sighs in his seat. “It’s really okay if we stay longer?”

“Absolutely.” Eddie wraps a wet hand around Robin’s shoulder. “I want you two here as long as you want to stay.”

“Okay,” she agrees, shrugging him off. “We’ll stay, just keep the soap off the shirt, Tedward.”

He hip-checks her back, turning to the sink again and mouthing a silent “thank you” in return.

Her dinguses just need time.

~~~

It was Steve’s idea to go to Memphis. It isn’t his idea to stay. At least not more than a day.

He just… wanted to see him again. Maybe even chalk up the nerve to saying something about how he left them without goodbye. Left Steve without goodbye.

All too quickly, Steve learns that, while good at addressing conflict between preschoolers, he is not great at facing his own problems. And the cool shoulder treatment seems to be enough for now. He falls asleep that second night hoping that maybe Robin’s right, that one more day will help all of them clear the air for good.

And then they wake up to freezing rain actively covering every uncoverwd outdoor surface in water and ice.

“My garage is big enough for your car,” Eddie tells him, handing him the man door keys. “And there’s a carport on the end for the truck. It’ll be safer from the sleet in there.” 

Steve nearly waves him off, since it just looks like rain to him, and they’re far enough south that he just assumes it’ll be fine and warmer than they think. But the radio Eddie had turned on earlier announces a forecast of more freezing rain to come and even some snow on the way.

So Steve’s not going anywhere.

Taking Eddie’s suggestion, he bundles up and grabs the key to the car and the truck to make quick work of the task before he’s soaked. The wind nearly rips the door off the hinges when he opens it, chilling him to the bone in an instant.

Turns out sneakers on icy gravel is not a great combination, no matter how carefully you step. Nor is hitting your head on your own car. Just his fucking luck.

Steve doesn’t know how long he’s out, but it’s long enough that he’s soaked and shivering by the time he registers a panicked voice asking someone to get the car in the garage, now.

And then Eddie’s picking him up like he’s a ragdoll instead of a large man who definitely weighs more than him. When the hell did he get so strong?

“Steve, Stevie are you with me?”

He mumbles an agreeable “uh-huh” as Eddie lays him down somewhere soft. The shivers take over his body, teeth chattering in his head even as the heat of the fireplace radiates in front of him. He can only assume he’s on the couch again.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you go alone,” Eddie mutters to himself. “Not with this ice.”

“M’f-f-fine,” Steve tries to assure.

“No you’re not, sweetheart, but we’ll get you there, okay? Uncle Wayne!”

He hears footsteps come from another room. “I can get my truck, son. The roads may not be too bad yet.”

“Memphis isn’t like Hawkins,” Eddie says somewhere in front of him, and he hears logs hit the fire. “They don’t do winter roads. Half an inch of snow brings everything to a stop down here. We just need to warm him back up. Can you go check that Robin’s okay out there? I’m not losing my friends this way.”

“Fucking hell,” Wayne mutters, making Steve laugh. “I’ve got her, you stay with your boy.”

Steve opens his eyes and shivers harder. He feels for the blanket he used last night and tries pulling it over himself to keep whatever warmth he still has in his body. But then Eddie rips it out of his hands in a flash.

“Blanket’s just gonna keep you colder for longer, sweetheart,” Eddie assures, hand warm on his cheek. “We gotta get you out of these wet clothes first, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Eddie gets him into an upright position and slowly removes his jacket. Steve clings to the feeling of warm hands on his body as wet pieces of clothing are removed one by one, stripping down to his briefs. Strong arms lift him by his armpits and set him on the floor, or at least on the blanket that made it to the floor and much closer to the warmth of the fireplace. Steve blindly wraps himself in the blanket again, this time without getting it ripped out of his fingers. 

And then a chuckle of warm air hits his face.

“Alright big boy, whities gotta come off too.”

Steve tries to shake his head, because he wants some piece of decency, but they’re just as cold and wet as the rest of his clothes had felt, so he points to the side of the couch within a shaking hand.

“B-b-bag, dr-r-ry,” he stutters out. Eddie keeps a hand on his shoulder as reaches for Steve’s bag, dumping out the contents to find the clean underwear Steve stashes in the side pocket.

“Everything’s in the garage, Ed,” Wayne calls out from the front door. 

He then hears who can only be Robin race into the living room, feet loud on the floorboards. “Everything okay in here?”

Steve peels open his eyes. “H-hi B-bobb-ie.”

“Hey Stevopher. What’s Tedward doing to you?”

He shrugs, pulling the blanket closer. “Wet clothes. Need dry o-ones.”

“Got em!” Eddie shifts back to Steve’s side, dry underwear in hand.

Robin laughs. “Need a hand?”

“Robs, I know you wanna help-”

“Yes,” she interjects, “and I have more experience with getting drunk Steve in his bed safe and sound than you do, so let me help.”

Steve can feel the wave of tension rip through Eddie’s body as his fingers tense on his shoulder. So he nods towards Eddie, already very sick of wearing his wet briefs and doing a shitty job at keeping the blanket on him due to cold, cramping fingers.

“Okay fine. Can you lift him up a bit, I’ll do the clothes swap.”

And just like that, Steve’s getting his underwear removed by Eddie for the first time in seven years. He only wishes it were the same scenario as last time. He didn’t exactly picture Robin being here for this… ever. Then again, she definitely didn't either.

Dry briefs replace wet ones in a flash. A towel gets expertly wrapped around his head by Robin, the only one he trusts to get the turban right.

And then Eddie’s pulling the couch and pullout closer to the fire and resituating Steve on it before taking his own shirt off.

“Whoa, whoa,” Steve mutters, feeling a bit loopy from the cold still in his bones. “Robbie’s right h-here baby-”

Eddie laughs low and deep in his chest, cutting him off. “I know, sweetheart, but you need skin-to-skin contact if you’re going to warm up fast enough. Unless Robin wants to join us.”

“I’ll draw my limits there, Munson,” she teases. “My clothes are staying on if I’m joining in the cuddle, and I’m grabbing my book first.”

Wayne, who Steve assumes has been watching their antics from the doorway, finally speaks up. “I’ll get the radio and the coffee.”

Which leaves Eddie and Steve huddled under the covers in the same pullout bed, Eddie shirtless and Steve almost naked. Bare chests pressed together, held in deceptively strong arms and covered in a blanket next to a roaring fire.

This is so not how Steve pictured today going at all.

The warming combination of the fire, delicious coffee, and Eddie’s skin on his own warms Steve up throughout the morning. Robin eventually joins them in the pullout, back in her pajamas and sitting up under the blankets, but she is there to complete the ‘Steve Sandwich’ so to speak. She also plays with his damp but drying hair while she reads, which is enough to lull him into something akin to sleep.

Wayne keeps his distance and takes residence in the easy chair, coffee in one hand and yesterday’s newspaper in the other. Pangs of shame and comfort pierce his chest. The last thing he wanted was to make any sort of fuss, but the presence of his friend and the closest thing he has to a father-ish figure tips the scales in the latter direction. He knows he’ll be okay.

As he wakes from his petting-induced nap, Steve becomes fully aware that Eddie’s bare chest is now pressed up to his shirtless back. And then he feels what could only be a finger playing connect-the-dots with his moles. Ages ago, Eddie told him it was his favorite pasttime.

Maybe it still was. Or could be again.

Part of his stupid heart hopes he still has a chance.

Robin’s fast asleep next to them, having curled around a pillow of sorts. He can even hear the echo of Wayne’s gentle snoring from the easy chair just a hair louder than the rain hitting the windows. The wood is crackling away in the fire, adding a harmony as Eddie hums a tune low and slow as he slides his finger across skin to a song Steve knows better than most these days.

It's a good a sign as any to finally address the tension still lingering between them.

So Steve readies himself with a grounding breath, big enough to warn Eddie of his alertness. He rotates his body, flipping to directly face Eddie. Big brown eyes stare back at him. No surprise to be found.

“Hi,” Steve whispers, noting just how close Eddie really is. He really wishes he’d brushed his teeth earlier.

“Hey.” He reaches over and pulls out Steve’s glasses that had been hiding in the pillows, gently sliding them on Steve’s face. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Head hurts, but that’s not new. And I’m warm, which is.”

“Good, good good,” Eddie mutters more to himself than Steve. “I should have gone out there with you.”

He just shrugs. “I should have worn different shoes.”

Eddie sighs. “I’m sorry you’re gonna be stuck here for a while longer.”

“I’m not,” he admits too quickly. “Well, not anymore. I do question why you wanted Wayne to move in February of all months.”

Eddie’s eyes, which always hold some sort of mystery and sadness in them, close tight. “Would you believe it’s because I was scared?”

“Scared? What’s Eddie Munson have to be scared of anymore?”

Eddie rolls onto his back, voice still low and quiet as he speaks again. “When I first got here, I was looking for something. A connection to my mom’s hometown, a fresh start, anything. I got here, and I was just another metalhead kid from Indiana. I got a chance to be someone that wasn’t attached to any bullshit back in Hawkins. I was just Eddie. And things were looking good for a long time.”

He pauses, and Steve takes his cue. “What changed?”

Eddie sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Three young boys across the river in West Memphis, Arkansas went missing last year. One of them was even named Byers, of all the fuckingnames, and everyone around here called it a Satanic ritual when all three turned up dead and hogtied by the river.”

Steve’s blood runs cold. Eddie continues.

“Police ended up arresting three teenage boys for the murders. They were just kids, Steve, just like I was, and I felt like I was hiding in the boathouse all over again.”

“Eddie..." Steve lets a hand rest on his friend's chest. Eddie rests his own on top

“I called Wayne that night," he continues on. "He’s the one who suggested moving down here. Said ‘I’m old, and the last thing I need is to freeze my ass off for another winter in that damn plant.’ I laughed about it then, but I was really excited to not have to have him back in my life. But we decided he’d retire first, then move after Christmas. But I messed up my schedule with the studio, so I knew I couldn’t make it up to help him move and get him back here. So I sent you and Robin that letter.”

Steve lets the emotion wash over him. “And?”

“Well,” he starts. “I just hoped you’d still be willing to help a former friend.”

In a moment of weakness, Steve reaches out and wipes away the tear that had been forming at the corner of Eddie’s vision. It gets him to laugh, break up whatever tension had been building in both of their chests.

“I still consider you a friend,” Steve admits.

“Really?”

He nods. “Won’t make day-long road-trips for just anyone.”

They’re quiet for a moment or two. Eddie’s gaze stays glued to the ceiling, but Steve can’t take his eyes off of Eddie’s face. He lets himself count the freckles he can see, the ones hiding in pale skin that have slowly become more prominent in the years apart. He thinks they suit him well.

“What, what song were you humming just now? Before I woke up.”

Eddie’s gaze drops, looking somewhere towards the fireplace. “Oh, that? It was nothing. Just a ditty.”

“Oh, a ditty?” Steve pokes. “You really are turning southern on us, aren’t you.”

Dark eyes meet his again, crinkled at the corners. “Yeah, what about it?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s cute. And so is the way you hum my favorite song.”

“Fav-” Eddie trails off, pupils blowing wide as he looks back at Steve. “You like ‘Walking in Memphis’?”

“Love it enough that Robin’s banned it from the apartment when she’s home,” Steve admits. “It’s the first song I listen to before work... and the first one I play when I leave.”

“Oh for-” Eddie eyes lock onto the ceiling, taking a deep breath. “You’re seriously not fucking with me?”

“Why would I? I just… I like that it’s both nostalgic and new. I listen to it, and between the melody and the lyrics it just…” He pauses, catching his breath before he whispers low. “It feels like going somewhere that could feel like home.”

Eddie pauses in that moment, a small smile tugging at his cheet as he turns to him again.

“Well, I’m glad. That’s kind of how I felt writing it.”

Wait… what?

“You… you wrote it? The one by Marc Cohn?”

Eddie nods. “It’s called ghost writing. I write the songs, the studio sells them to an artist, the recording artists get the public credit, and I get a small cut of the profits. I wrote that song within, oh… three weeks of getting here.”

“I would’ve expected one.”

“Oh,” he mutters, gently shoving at Steve’s shoulder. “I’d been working the kitchen at Earnestine & Hazel’s, and they finally gave me an open mic slot after a year or so. A rep from Atlantic was in the bar that night, and she liked it. And then she heard my name.”

He paused, and Steve watched the wrinkle deepen between his eyebrows before beginning again.

“Turns out, Memphis is a smaller town than I thought. She knew my mom years ago, went to school with her. And she knew about the shit from Hawkins, the press-approved version anyway. Didn’t think she could sell my name, but she wanted to do right by my mom.”

“And you’re a talented musician who deserved a shot,” Steve interjected.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie dismisses. “As her best friend's kid, she rented me this house where mom grew up. And she got me a gig in a local studio as the studio guitarist, which is where I met Gwen. I learned whatever parts they threw at me and recorded them. And then they got slapped onto whatever record it matched. Then, out of the blue, she asked me to look at ‘Memphis’ again, maybe as the lead single for a new artist. I recorded my demo with Gwen’s help on piano and percussion, we sent it off to Atlantic, and Marc Cohn became the voice and face of my baby. The rest is history.”

Steve’s heart sinks in his chest. "So you do all the work but get no credit?"

Eddie shrugs. "Gotta play the hand you're dealt. And the set-up has treated me well. I own the house now. Makes me feel closer to her, you know?"

He nods. "I never met her, but if she's anything like Wayne, I know she'd be proud of you."

"Thanks, man. I hope she is."

They're silent again for a minute, and a question dances from the back to the front of Steve's mind, and he cant help but asking it.

“Do you still have your old demo?”

Eddie blinks up at him. “Yeah. Wanna listen?”

With a nod, Steve’s quickly dressing himself in actual clothes before following Eddie to his office. He rifles through his desk before pulling out a cassette and loading it into the stereo.

Steve immediately notes the differences between Marc’s and Eddie’s. He loves Marc’s version with his lower, breathier voice, sure, but Eddie’s raw grit and strong middle voice arguably gives the song something more, something truer, real. Like he’s telling the story of his own coming to Memphis story instead of someone else singing his story for him.

Eddie’s version actually sounds like coming home. As it should.

The piano fades into the background, leaving nothing but dead air playing through the speakers and rain pattering on the roof. And Eddie laughs.

“Atlantic told me Cher wants to cover it for her album next year,” he admits. “Fucking Cher, of all people. Singing one of my songs. Can you believe that?”

Steve grins. “Why wouldn’t she? It’s incredible, Eds. Really.”

“Think so?”

He nods. “Cohn’s got nothing on you.”

Eddie beams from his perch on the desk, just for a split second, before a cloud of sadness seems to wash over him. He drops his head and mutters to himself, but Steve can’t make it out.

“What’s that?”

“I said, I wrote it for you.” Eddie sighs. “I got here, got swept up in the feeling of this place, and all I wanted to do was show it to you, Steve. But I know I burned any bridge we had between us. So I got it all out on a piece of paper and prayed to whatever gods were listening that you’d get to hear it one day.”

Steve’s heart freezes in his chest before kickstarting all over again.

“Why, why didn’t you call? Or come back, anything! Eddie, you, you left me on Valentine’s Day. You left all of us.”

Eddie hugs himself in a straightjacket. “I know. I genuinely thought you’d all be better off without me. Safer, with happier lives. But I know now how wrong I was. You deserved more than a stupid letter. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I really am sorry. For leaving you.”

Steve bites the inside of his lip, the sting of pain proceeding the taste of iron. Sleepless, tear-filled nights flood his memory along with every ache and pain he’s felt over the past seven years. He breathes in and out, and all of it washes downstream.

Now all Steve sees between them is a bridge. A bit wobbly, for certain, and it could use a bit of care and mending, but he feels himself traverse the gap between the two of them, no longer teenagers making stupid mistakes.

He takes a step towards Eddie and takes a hand in his own.

“I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend that night,” he whispers.

Eddie chokes on a whine. “Don’t, don’t-”

“So,” he cuts him off, “I can’t say I’ll forget, but…”

Eddie releases a shaky breath. “But?”

“But I forgave you a long time ago, Eddie.” Steve wipes a tear from Eddie’s cheek. “Just don’t try and wreck this bridge again, okay?”

“I promise, I won’t.”

He smiles. “Good. I’m not letting you go again without a fight. Plus, I know where you live, and Wayne kinda loves me like a son now, so…”

Eddie bats at his chest. “Oh, fuck off!”

“There he is,” Steve teases, leaning in to wrap his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. “There’s the man I fell in love with.”

Their lips collide before Eddie can get another word in edgewise. Which is absolutely more than fine with Steve. It feels like home.

Several moments and at least one hickey later, the thumping of feet down the hallway is the only warning they get before Robin bursts into the office.

“Okay, break it up, Dinguses,” she announces, door wide open. “Eddie, I know this is your office, but I still need somewhere to sleep for the next few days that doesn’t become contaminated with whatever fluids you two want to swap.”

“Robin-” they call out in unison, but she won’t have it.

“Oh, can-it. Just move the operation so I can actually get dressed for the day, okay? Thank you.”

They leave her to her own devices in the office. Eddie doesn’t see the look she shares with Steve, and neither of them see Robin’s celebratory happy dance after they make their exit.

“So,” Eddie whispers low just outside his own bedroom door, “still need some warming up, big boy?”

Steve takes a deep, deep breath. “Eddie, it is literally the middle of the day.”

“And we have a lot of time to make up for!”

“Which means,” Steve teases with a boop to Eddie’s nose, “that you can wait until everyone else has gone to bed tonight.”

Steve catches Eddie’s pout for a blink of an eye before wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck.

"Did I ever tell you how much I like your glasses? They suit you."

He sighs. “It’s not going to work, Eddie-”

“Because I’ve always thought those beautiful hazel eyes of yours deserved to be framed in gold.”

Okay, it might be working a little bit.

With a blush rising to his face and a grunt escaping his throat, Steve pulls Eddie into the bedroom and locks the door tight. Something quick won’t hurt anyone.

Especially when, as they lay in Eddie’s sheets very satisfied and much, much warmer than before, the power goes out to the entire house.

~~~

Eddie’s neighbors – William and Gwen and Sam the bloodhound – come over again that night, having no fireplace nor woodstove to keep their house warm without power. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind the full house, and his company certainly doesn’t mind their extra company for the evening.

In the warmth of the living room fireplace, Wayne gets much cozier with William on the pullout, Robin finds she quite enjoys being the little spoon to Gwen in the easy chair, and Sam enjoys warming her belly on a spare blanket by the fire.

And Steve and Eddie? They make whispered plans for how it will all work:  the Valentine’s date they never had, when to make the necessary moves. Understandably, neither want to let the other go ever again. And we can’t really blame them, can we?

As they fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, both boys-turned-men breathe the sigh of relief seven years in the making. Knowing they’re finally home.