Chapter Text
“When were you going to tell me?” Dustin confronts him, arms crossed tight over his puffed chest. He’s angry and glaring at Steve.
Steve has no idea why, though.
“To tell you, what?” Steve asks, eyes lazily coming back to the screen of his computer. He has been working on a photoshooting made earlier, a boring model for a top brand just changing outfits and shifting from pose to pose quickly and efficiently; basically he’s sorting the best pics to send them to the editor and retouching lights and shades and shit.
“As if you didn’t know it already!” Dustin accuses him. Dustin is one of the youngest photographers in the agency, and he had the luck to be the one assigned to one of the fiercest journalists, Erica Sinclair, they both cover the best shit and they’re hyper competitive and clever. They’re made for each other, if you ask Steve. Meanwhile, Steve is lucky if he can work on one of his photo reports between photoshoot and photoshoot.
For some reason, though, Steve is fond of Dustin, maybe because they’re both only children and Steve kind of adopted Dustin, to the point of exchanging extremely complicated and elaborated secret handshakes that makes everyone roll their eyes in annoyance. Not like they mind it.
“Henderson, I have no idea what you are talking about, I need a coffee for your antics if you’re going to yell at me first thing in the morning,” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to get up, but Dustin doesn’t let him leave the chair.
“You’ve been assigned to do a photoshoot for Eddie Munson!” Dustin yells, face red and eyes wide. “Don’t try to deny it because the Boss told me already, she didn’t care that I begged, she was adamant that you’d be the one doing the job!”
Fucking great.
“I’m not denying it, Henderson,” Steve sighs again, feeling exhausted. “Yeah, Nancy assigned it to me, and I have no idea why, who is this Eddie Munson?”
Steve knows who Eddie Munson is, he’s the lead guitarist and singer from this band, Corroded Coffin - Jesus Christ, what a name - and that they’re pretty popular right now, their new album released and, because of the recently acquired fame, basically every magazine wanted to interview the band and, above all, they wanted Eddie Munson.
What Steve wants to know is why everyone , including Dustin, seems to be so besotted with this Eddie Munson.
“Who is… You’re asking me
who
Eddie Munson is?” Dustin gapes, incredibly offended. “You have no right to be the one working with him, Harrington! It’s not fair!”
While Dustin is angrily muttering about how unfair life is and that Steve is an uncultured swine, he pushes Steve’s chair to the side and takes control of his computer, ignoring Steve’s weak protests. Dustin opens a tab and writes “Eddie Munson Master of Puppets cover live Indiana”. Clicking the first link, the video starts playing on and it shows Corroded Coffin on a stage, the stadium full of people, and Eddie Munson is at the front, black shirt open, showing a hairless chest, and silver chains catching the light of the spotlights. Dark curls clinging to his face with sweat and he smiles,
smirks
at his audience, who is yelling at him, chanting “Master of Puppets” again and again like just one voice, hands raised and clapping.
“Ok, ok, since you’re all asking so nicely…” Eddie smiles, the quality of the video is not great but Steve can see that the man has a pretty face and a thin frame, and he’s holding his guitar in a way that is almost indecent. And the first notes of the song start playing, the crows cheering and whooping. Steve barely recognises it, a cover from an eighties’ rock band or whatever, he thinks - based on the title of the video.
“Corroded Coffin’s leader, Eddie Munson, was playing his guitar in this hole-on-the-wall somewhere, you don’t care where anyway, and he started playing Master of Puppets and then James Hetfield himself stood up and joined him singing! The man was there and Eddie was awestruck, and the fucking Metallica helped him to start, dude, it’s the most amazing story ever…” Dustin is talking fast and without taking a breath, as he always does when he’s hyped about something. “And they let him play their song every fucking time, like, imagine to know your hero like that…”
Steve hums. And frowns.
“Hey, you told me I was your hero, kind of a role model for you, that you started studying photography because of me…” Steve pouts, and Dustin’s cheek redden a bit.
“Well, yeah, but, it’s not the same, like, they’re actual rock stars , Steve…” Dustin mumbles, and then he starts writing again and the video stops to show another one, recorded with the camera of a phone and the shittiest quality ever. Steve tries to not overthink about what Dustin just said.
Eddie Munson, a year or two younger, with the same long brown hair in disarray, and wearing a denim vest over a leather jacket, overdressed in comparison with the other video. His on-stage persona is still magnetic, the small crowd already making the chorus, it’s the same song, Master of Puppets . Steve keeps watching and, in the video, people start gasping and a loud Oh My God! can be heard when a man older than Eddie, with short blond hair and broad shoulders stands up and reaches the stage and starts singing with Eddie. Eddie seems a bit stunned for a second when he realizes who the man is, and then he nods, smiles and stops singing so the man - James Whatever , Steve can remember the name Dustin just had told him a moment ago - can take the mic and Eddie keeps playing the guitar, a wide grin on his face.
They both seem like having fun and the older man pats Eddie on his shoulder and tells him something, Eddie nods enthusiastically and, grinning wide, he starts playing another song.
“I hope you take this seriously, Harrington,” Dustin admonishes him. “Everyone wants to work with him and to take the best photos of him, and they always say how amazing he is, so, can you, please? Take it seriously?”
“Nancy, our editor ,” Steve reminds Dustin, “already told me that, and I always do a good job, Henderson, no matter who is in front of the camera.”
“But this is important, Steve,” Dustin urges him one more time. “This work could change your whole life, dude!”
Steve rolls his eyes and huffs, watching Dustin walk towards his own computer to actually do his job, and Steve takes the opportunity to stretch his legs and pours himself a mug of coffee. Once again in front of his screen, Steve lips his lower lip.
He doesn’t like to work with celebs, not all of them play nice and not all of them listen to Steve, usually they complain about their schedule or are simply… plain and boring. That’s why Steve prefers to do his photo report about interesting things or places, there are a lot of stories out there waiting to be told.
-
“What do you mean there’s no brand behind him?” Steve asks, deflating in the chair. At the other side of the table, Nancy Wheeler, the editor, is organizing some papers.
Nancy shrugs, and looks at Steve with a brow arched.
“His manager says that she’ll give us the different outfits, but that they’re not interested in any specific brand or name, Eddie has a penchant for the eighties, glam-rock, old rock stars vibe, and there’s no brand that can provide that nowadays,” she explains.
“Well, if his manager is going to give us the clothes, I don’t care, as if he wants to show up in pajamas, honestly,” Steve says bitterly.
“If you don’t care then leave me work, Steve,” Nancy smirks and Steve grunts, standing on his feet again and ready to leave Nancy’s office.
“Why do you hate him so much?” She asks before Steve can leave. “You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t hate him…” Steve says, and it’s true. “I just, ugh, all celebs are just the same, proud and so self-satisfied, they’re usually mean and petty.”
“That’s a lot of prejudice and hate in those words of you, Steve,” Nancy huffs. “He seems nice, his manager is very sweet, or that’s what Robin says at least, and God knows she’s even pickier than you with people.”
“That’s why we both get along so well,” Steve smiles. “Why me?”
“Hm?”
“Henderson wants the job, he’s a fan, why not him for this session? He’d be so happy, Nance, and he’s even better than me at this point.”
Nancy studies him for a moment, considering her options.
“I would give him this assignment, but I can’t,” she sighs. “Eddie Munson wants you , he asked for you specifically, Steve. And we already signed the contract.”
“What? Why?” Steve asks, confused and feeling hot all over, angry at the celebs and their fucking idea that the world spins around them.
“I have no idea, Steve,” Nancy sighs now, too. “But Eddie Munson is the big thing happening at the moment, and he wants us, he wants you , this can change…”
“Change my life, yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Steve closes the door behind him with more force than needed.
-
Eddie Munson, just like the rest of the celebs Steve has worked with, is late . Of course he is. A big rock star like him surely has better things to do than appear at the hour he has been told so Steve can do his fucking job.
He has everything ready to start, the camera settled, the fucking lights, the screen and, ok, maybe he wouldn’t be this upset if he wouldn’t made his job so fucking thoroughly even if he knew it was going to lead him to another disappointment. Steve is good at his job, he takes it seriously no matter what Nancy and Dustin say, and that’s why he asked Robin to call Eddie Munson’s manager and to get him some information. And then, he did some research and called some friends.
In just a week, Steve found several leather jackets, tight enough that no matter how thin Eddie is, he couldn’t wear a shirt underneath, just as his metal heroes did back in their days. Just as tight jeans ripped at the knees, even a few ones with animal print: zebra stripes over red, leopard dots over blue. Denim jackets with spikes at the shoulders. Oversized shirts with ruffles, very pirate-y. And all kinds of jewelry and bijou and chokers and chunk rings, bandanas, chains, everything a eighties-lover metalhead could want and more.
And guitars and their amps - just in case. Steve owes several favors now for a fucking photoshoot just to offer this guy different guitars to pose with. He hopes the man arrives sooner or later, he has to return all the clothes and guitars tomorrow first hour, so for the first time that week, Steve wants Eddie Munson here and now. A part of him, the part that he doesn’t want to listen to and that has been devouring every video of Eddie Munson available on Internet, wants desperately that Eddie likes the set Steve has made for him, and that’s the other reason why he hopes the man will appear any moment now.
It’s easier if he says to himself that he just wants to do that perfect photoshoot, far too easier than to admit that the guy looks hot on every fucking interview and has the habit of winking at the camera. It’s easier if he says to everyone that he’s just a greedy photographer who wants a raise, a chance to prove himself, or whatever other lie he can think of.
Being late is not very hot, in Steve’s opinion.
There’s a rustle behind the door of the studio and then two figures storm in, a cute blonde young woman with her hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a black blazer and jeans, and right by her side, Eddie Munson himself.
“Steve Harrington?” The woman asks, a bright smile in her pink lips, and she offers her hand for Steve to take. “I’m Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie’s manager, I’m sorry we’re late, we got stuck in traffic, I tried to call you to the number Miss Buckley gave me last time, but it seems like it’s not working.”
Steve takes the small hand in his and, fuck, he had silenced his phone earlier because Dustin was texting him non-stop about Eddie Munson and Steve forgot to check in just in case. Well, I’m an idiot for that one, Steve admits while shaking Chrissy’s hand and smiling.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Cunningham, and don’t worry, traffic it’s awful in this city” he says, trying not to look like an idiot, and his eyes find Eddie Munson behind her, worrying his lower lip shyly, eyeing him up and down. “Mr Munson.”
At being called, Eddie takes a step forward and offers his hand to Steve, smiling nervously. His hand is warm, if a bit sweaty, smaller than Steve’s but with long fingers and calloused palms, and Steve realizes he’s thinking too much about said hand, releasing it quickly, shoving all his current thoughts down, crumpling them like a ball of aluminum foil and tossing it at the back of his mind for later examination, or not. Better not.
“Mr Munson is my uncle, please, call me Eddie,” he says, nervously and shivering . “And damn, the pleasure is mine, I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
Steve blinks several times before his brain registers Eddie’s words, as if their roles were reversed and Steve was the rockstar and Eddie Munson was a fan. Steve can’t help but notice the soft pink that paints Eddie’s cheeks.
“Ehm, same,” he says confused, he was the one believing that Eddie wouldn’t appear after all.
“No man, and I’m so sorry to be late, I hate driving in the city,” Eddie laughs, rubbing his neck and drawing a complex expression on his face. “I hope we can still do the photoshoot today? I’m free and all for you, I mean, to make out with you… To do you! To do the photoshoot! Damn, Munson,” Eddie groans, embarrassed and laughing awkwardly. Steve is having a crisis, or a stroke, or the weirdest dream of his life; he laughs too, his mind racing with very inappropriate images but honestly, he can just blame the stress and the anxiety for doing this job. Eddie recovers, though. “I’m sure you have better things to do, more appointments or something, and if you want to reschedule or something… Chrissy, help, please?”
Eddie Munson rambles when he’s nervous, his cheeks are a bit flushed, and he’s making Steve second guessing everything he thinks he knows about Eddie. And it’s making his knees feel like jelly.
“What Eddie is trying to say is that he asked for you to be the photographer for this session, and if that our delay is an issue, we’ll do whatever it’s on our hands to do it any other day, and of course we’ll cover the inconveniences for today,” Chrissy smiles softly, looking around the studio. “You have the whole set ready, and I know all the hard work you put in here. And if you still have time today, we’ll love to keep the plan.”
“It’s ok, don’t worry, we have time,” no, they don’t. “I don’t have any more appointments today.” It’s not a lie, but he does have work to do that needs to be finished. And yet, now that Eddie is here, Steve doesn’t want him to leave, and it’s not that late. Steve is getting better at lying to himself, then.
Also, what Eddie has to do is just stand there and look pretty , the bitter part of him that is still annoyed snaps to himself, only to be answered with the other part of himself with: damn , he’s already very pretty .
Steve shakes his head and shoves down both thoughts, annoyance and awe can wait until the session is over. Or like, forever. They’re just two more foil balls bouncing at the back of his mind with the previous one.
“We can still do the session today, sure,” Steve reassures them, smiling and nodding.
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Eddie says, tugging at a stray curl and putting it in front of his face, hiding from Steve. He has no right to be this sweet, where’s the annoying, overconfident rockstar Steve was expecting? Steve feels his body melting because of Eddie, and that’s not good.
“You’re not a bother, just… We can start when you want.”
Eddie grins, dimples showing and eyes widening, Steve feels the sudden need to clear his throat and drink some water.
"It’s settled then, I need to make some calls, be good, Eddie, ok?" Chrissy says, looking at her tablet and smiling smugly. "Mr Harrington, thank you for this, and if he misbehaves I'll be out there, just scream for help." She adds with a wink before leaving and closing the door behind her, and Eddie makes a sound that it’s too much of a squeak.
"Ok that was... unnecessary," Eddie laughs awkwardly again, and yet he looks comfortable on his own skin while Steve is fighting to maintain his professional composure. "She's just teasing me because, uhm..."
"What, a rock tar like you that doesn't like to be in front of a camera?" Steve asks, a bit awestruck if he's honest to himself, and flirting without noticing. Or, noticing it just a bit.
"I prefer to be on stage, yeah, but, ehm... " Eddie huffs. "I've been waiting for this for a long time, and I want to thank you for having me here today."
"How's that?" Steve asks, smiling, unable to imagine Eddie Munson all shy and flustered, and yet here they are.
"Oh, because I wanted you to make out with me... To have a session with me! With the camera!" Eddie rambles, his cheeks incredibly red and Steve is sure his own are burning now, he can’t even chuckle at this, not when he’s the one imagining it now. Great. "Oh fuck, I'm already making a mess... Ok, fuck it, ok, I've been following your work and I’m kinda obsessed with your style."
Steve can't help but giggle this time, shock running down his body, this is all so absurd, a proper rockstar that stands in front of thousands of people stuttering and praising his work as a photographer. Also, said rockstar admitting to being a fan of his own work. If Steve had a nickel for every time that has occurred to him, he’ll have a one single shining nickel, though.
"You like my work?" He asks, incredulous, shaking his head in disbelief.
"You kidding?" Eddie asks, big Bambi eyes widening. "That story about Indiana's Queer secret nightlife? Or the one you did about the abandoned Hawkins lab? You're insanely talented, man, and when I heard you were working as a photographer for this magazine, I begged Chrissy to get me a session with you."
This can't be real, there's no way a man like Eddie is praising a dork like him.
"Wow, Munson, damn," Steve laughs now, the praise making him feel like he’s floating, and rubs the back of his neck with his hand, his cheeks burning like never before. "I don't even know what to say, thank you, I..."
Fuck, Steve can't lie, he had a lot of prejudices about Eddie, and he doesn't like metal music... Ok, great now he's feeling like a jerk.
"Just saying the truth, dude, and I hope you don't mind me fangirling about you," Eddie smiles, dimples showing, and Steve's breath catches in his throat. This man is a dream, sweet, and incredibly handsome, wearing the simplest clothes: just a white short sleeved shirt and jeans, his long hair in a messy bun. And fucking praising him.
Steve forgets about all his troubles to get the different outfits for Eddie, now he wants to photograph him just like this, all flustered and unhinged in the most beautiful, honest way. In horror, Steve realizes that he’s developing a crush on the man in front of him, just after what, four minutes in his presence? And ok, that’s a new record for him.
This is bad, this is really bad, this is too embarrassing, and once again and for completely different reasons, Steve wishes that Nancy had given Dustin this job.
"I... I want to say that I love your work too but, ehm..." Steve rambles and Eddie's grin widens. "I don't want to look like an idiot, because you're being amazing and nice with me and..."
"Hey, I get it, metal is not for everyone, and I'm just happy that you accepted to work with me, no harm done," Eddie's smile falters a bit but it's still here, chocolate eyes pining Steve in his place.
Steve’s resolve resurges, he decides that he was right putting all that effort in this session after all, and he’ll make it up for Eddie with the greatest photoshoot ever.
"Ok, so," Steve claps his hands. "Before we start, I have a selection for you, clothes and accessories and some guitars, I guessed based on your, ehm, videos and all that, if you want to follow me..."
Steve leads Eddie and shows him the place, and delights in Eddie's gasps and squeaks with almost everything Steve picked for him.
"Ooooh fuck, this can't be real! This is a Carvin JB24 Jason Becker Tribute ? Fuck me , Harrington, is this for me?" Eddie yelps, his hands wrapping around the slim, long neck of the guitar. "I always wanted the blue one he always used, you know? But well, I found my Sweetheart , and that was love at first sight," Eddie smiles fondly. "Do you believe in love at first sight, Harrington?"
Fuck, I do believe now , Steve thinks almost hysterically when Eddie winks at him. That leads them into a conversation about Steve's cameras and his own collection, and it's easy to talk with Eddie, he understands Steve and his passion and Steve can understand him now. They both tell stories to the world, Eddie uses his music, Steve his sight.
It’s time for Eddie to choose some outfits for the session and once again, praises Steve for his good eye, for taking him seriously even if he’s a silly man with a guitar, and Steve frowns. He craves Eddie’s praise, sure, but he doesn’t like the way the man talks about himself.
"For a man who claims he doesn't like metal you got me a lot of great stuff, Harrington... Oh shit, this jacket is just like Yngvie Malmsteen’s, can I...?"
"Eddie, we have time," Steve smiles, ignoring how ironic it is that he didn't want this job and now he just wants to spend the whole time with Eddie. "You can try all the outfits."
What a fucking worst-best idea.
Eddie is stunning in every one of the outfits, and he's kind of goofy, making a lot of different poses that makes Steve guffaws behind his camera. It’s fun, and easy, to have Eddie posing for him and following Steve’s instructions and tips. They try different outfits and guitars, and Steve doesn’t want the session to finish.
Steve is happy he just settled his video recorder too, he does that always, the celebs like to have the behind the scenes video, but this? Eddie making him laugh and enjoying the session so freely? Steve is so fucking grateful, he's going to buy Nancy a bouquet of roses or something.
Every five minutes or so, Eddie remembers some iconic photographs of his metal heroes, including Jason Becker, Yngvie Malmsteen and James Hetfield among others Steve is not going to remember their names, sadly, and shows them to Steve asking if they can recreate them.
Steve is happy to indulge Eddie.
"I can make your pics look like they're from the eighties, y'know?" Steve smirks, and Eddie's eyes get even bigger, Steve is not going to survive the weight of that gaze on him.
“Really? Can we… Can you do that?” Eddie asks, almost gaping.
"Yeah, pretty easy, just take the .RAW file and then convert it to .TIFF and just add some gaussian blur..." Steve knows he's rambling but Eddie is smiling openly at him, looking at him like he's doing something amazing for him, even if Eddie has no idea what he's talking about.
"You're so fucking precious, Harrington," Eddie whispers, still with that tight leather jacket wrapped around his torso, the chains hanging from his neck, and he's to close to Steve, so fucking close…
"I..." Steve wants to say that he's only doing his job, but it's not true, not anymore, Steve doesn't bother to try and lie to himself at this point, when he can just lean in and kiss Eddie Munson. "You're so happy with all this, that I want to..." To it be perfect for you .
Steve wants to do something that is not at all professional of him, that it could cost him his job, his whole career, and even Eddie's, if he's taking this all wrong, if Eddie's not looking at his lips the way Steve is almost sure he's doing it.
But Jesus Christ, Steve wants to kiss him, so fucking badly. Maybe the whole shit about rock stars being a chicks magnet is true - Steve just called himself a chick and doesn’t even care, for fuck's sake…
They stand like this for a moment, leaning into each other, something powerful tugging at them, pulling them closer.
"Edward Munson, stop annoying this poor man! It’s been three hours already!" The studio’s door opens then, they both jump and take a step back, Chrissy stepping inside and looking at them with a bright, startled look. "Oops! Oh, f- I'm sorry! I'll wait outside, but, Munson..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm… We’re almost done, I'm sorry Chris," Eddie smiles sheepishly.
Chrissy leaves them again, and Steve is losing his mind, his heart hammering in his chest, breathing heavily and needy like when he was a teenager.
"Guess I should go, then," Eddie says with a sigh, and leaves Steve to hide behind the screen to change into his normal outfit again, and Steve’s heart breaks a little. He hasn’t felt like this in years , Eddie has gotten under his skin faster than anyone else before, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with this feeling.
So Steve starts watching the pics on his camera screen, smiling at himself at the antics of this Eddie Munson. Hot and humble, a goof, always winking at the camera- no, at Steve, and some of those winks show in the photographs.
"Hey I look good in that one," Eddie whispers in Steve's ear, standing behind him and propped up on his feet to look over Steve’s shoulder at the camera. Steve tilts his head and shifts so that Eddie can look better at the photo. Eddie's hair is free from his bun, all bouncing messy curls framing his handsome face, wearing an open maroon button up shirt, he's holding his Sweetheart and kissing the neck of his guitar, eyes closed. The photo is extremely hot and tender, and is one of Steve's favorites too.
"You look good in every fucking photo, Eddie," Steve whispers too, giving up, showing up his cards.
He turns his head to look at Eddie, short sleeved white shirt again, but open, just like in the photo, his chain hanging from his neck and hairless chest on display, but good Jesus, his happy trail is of light brown, soft looking hair.
It’s the first time Steve can see all of his tattoos, too. The bats and the puppet master, the wyvern, in his arms. A zombie head and a black widow on his chest. Steve wonders if he has more tattoos hidden under his clothes.
Steve’s fingers itch with the need and want to touch the man in front of him.
"May I... like this? In your casual outfit?" Steve asks, shyly. He's being greedy, but Eddie grins at him wickedly.
"Only if I can have your personal number, it's only fair."
Steve smiles brightly, his heart hammering in his chest, nodding too fast, imagining Eddie texting him, calling him… Eddie poses a few more times for Steve, and Eddie saves Steve's number in his phone.
"Oh, Harrington, just one more thing..." Eddie says, Steve by his side, before opening the door for him. Steve looks at him, basking in his presence for a few more seconds, and hums, urging Eddie to keep talking.
Eddie leans in and closes the distance between them, kissing him softly, chaste, lips meeting lips, and Steve's hands fly to Eddie's waist, fingers digging in his pale skin and making Eddie’s breath hitch.
"I'm free tonight, if you want to..."
"I'm out at seven," Steve rushes to answer and Eddie smiles against his lips.
"I'll be here to pick you up, and we can have dinner together,” Eddie offers shyly, as if he’s still doubting that Steve wants to have a date with him. Steve reassures him, deepening their kiss, tongues sliding together easily and sending shivers down Steve’s spine.
When they part, Eddie’s cheeks are delightfully red and he seems just as affected as Steve feels, already counting the hours until they meet again later.
WIth a last shy peck, Eddie opens the door and leaves, turning just one more time to wink at him, and Steve grins.
Dustin was right after all, this session surely has changed his life forever.