Work Text:
December in Indiana has always been a miserable affair.
Not that it’s joyous and merry the rest of the year, but winters tinge the midwestern browns and oranges with grey, leaving the whole state desaturated, sepia photographs of a sleepy state.
Steve’s parents never liked to spend winters at home, the holiday season an ideal time to travel, seeing the fluffy snow of the Alps, or fleeing the frigid cold in Australia and South Africa. Bands of socialites escaping harsh realities in foreign country clubs and all-inclusive resorts. It was the song of Steve’s childhood. When the temperature dips below 10 °, it’s time to leave Indiana. Cover the pool, leave a list of instructions for groundskeepers and housemaids and escape to places less dreary.
Of course, that was before Steve failed to get into every single college he applied for. Before he resigned himself to late night shifts at the video store and $3 an hour ($3.50 on Sundays). Before his parents grit their teeth with shame when well-meaning associates ask Steve if he’s taking any interesting classes at a college he must be attending.
It was easier for them all, after a while, to leave Steve behind. His parents get to pretend Steve is simply too interesting to be spending his holidays lounging around with family at luxury hotels, and Steve gets to avoid the look his father gives him when he admits to stick-thin housewives they went to dinner with that he’s still trying to “find himself” and he doesn’t know if college is for him.
So he sinks into miserable Indiana Decembers. Drives slowly along icy roads to get to work and scowls at the big Christmas tree in the town square.
Steve Harrington just doesn’t like Christmas.
“I don’t believe it,” Eddie frowns a week before the holiday when Steve snorts derisively at the mention of the holiday, “It’s Christmas . The most wonderful time of the year, so on and so forth et cetera. It just seems so you.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I don’t believe you do like it. I would have thought it was too commercial for you or something.”
“You think I’m gonna let some corporation ruin Christmas? No fucking way. It’s the time of year for homemade gifts and avoiding large shopping centres, thank you very much. The Reaganites aren’t gonna take the Christmas spirit away from me.”
Steve huffs a laugh and sips of his beer. “Are you really a Christmas guy? Eddie Munson, cult leader, terror of the fine folks of Indiana, Christmas lover?”
“Yeah, I’m a regular Santa Claus,” Eddie deadpans, before breaking out into a smile. “But really, you hate Christmas? What happened to your giving soul and communal demeanour? You’re like a walking ad for a Christmas sale.”
“Cause that’s not actually Christmas! That’s Christmas movies and Hershey commercials. I don’t like how everyone just goes around acting like that’s the real world when Christmas is literally just like any other day except everyone’s acting all fake happy.”
“Yeah, I mean, I can imagine that’s what the Harrington Christmas would look like,” Eddie snorts. “What is it, a gala? Dinner with politicians? Do they have operas on Christmas day?”
“Fuck off , we are not opera people,” Steve says, all mock outrage.
Eddie hides his grin behind his beer. “I’m asking , you dick. What’s Christmas day in the Harrington household?”
“I don’t know? I call my parents to thank them for my gifts and then I get drunk and watch movies all day, I guess. Sometimes I go to Robin’s for dinner if they’ll have me, but they’re in Canada this year, so I guess it’s whiskey and movies all day. Why, what’s Christmas at the Munsons?”
Eddie gives him this funny look Steve can’t even begin to interpret. “Usually, it’s just me and my uncle, but this year we’ve got a guest staying with us.”
“You’re about to invite me to Christmas, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, ‘course I am, Steve. Wayne’s head would explode if he knew I was leaving my boyfriend to spend Christmas day drinking alone, and my head is exploding right now that you think I’d let that happen.”
Steve opens his mouth to argue, before letting his shoulders drop and taking a defeated sip of his beer. “Yeah, I mean I don’t have plans. I guess I’ll be there.”
❄ ❄❄
He’s instructed to show up no earlier than 12 on Christmas day. So naturally, he arrives at 11:30 and sits in his car for half an hour. He watches families move in between trailers in park-wide celebration, observing the way the children play through the weight of their winter clothes, riding new bicycles as parents take photos with new cameras.
The trailer park is a lot busier than it used to be. After El had sealed the rift that ran through the park, the lab had purchased trailers for some of the displaced families. It was well below the minimum of what they owed the town, but it had been a start. It had also been the product of dozens of angry calls and meetings between Hopper and intimidating suited men. The lab never gave charity without a fight.
There’s a tinge of jealousy as he watches the happy families. He’s already called his parents for a depressing 5 minutes, thanking them for the shiny Famicom and fancy new walkman, and a pile of clothes he already knows will go straight to the back of his closet. He’s also fielded a sympathetic Merry Christmas call from Robin, placating her by telling her he’s going to be spending the day with Eddie and not alone. She’d sighed, sounding visibly relieved, and ended the call soon afterwards, telling him she was glad he had Eddie there and asking him to at least try and have a nice day.
And he will try. He’s not some black hole of Christmas enjoyment, scowling at all who dare to celebrate during the season of celebration. He’s just- cynical, or anti-commercialism, or whatever else is easier to say and think than I don’t like Christmas because it reminds me everyone else has a family who loves them .
But it’s fine, because it’s almost 12, and he is going to spend his afternoon with his loving boyfriend and his loving boyfriend’s uncle, and he is going to have a perfectly fine time because he can be happy on Christmas, goddamnit. He’s not the fucking Grinch.
He knocks loudly on the door to the trailer, shifting his oversized bag with the food and wine and gifts up his shoulder. Wayne still scares him a little, so he’d tried to make an effort, baking brownies and frying brie in some kind of vain attempt to exude Christmas Guy . He’s even wearing a red sweater and hideous bright green socks.
Eddie answers the door with a wide grin, still in pyjama pants. “You’re right on time! I just woke up. Wayne’s showering, but he’ll be out in a second and we’ll do gifts.”
Steve kisses him on the cheek and steps inside after Eddie, letting the door swing shut behind him. The place is all decked out for the occasion, synthetic christmas tree sagging with the weight of baubles next to the TV, and tinsel and string lights sprawled across any available surface. Christmas joy is imbued into the fabric of the trailer, lighting it up with a movie spirit.
After a promise to be right back, Eddie disappears into the bedroom, leaving Steve alone with the decorations and his thoughts. He shifts from foot to foot, fiddling awkwardly with his bag before trying to busy himself.
He adds two shoddily wrapped gifts to the little pile in front of the couch and places the food and wine on the kitchen counter, fiddling with stray tinsel until Eddie returns with his hands behind his back.
Steve steps backwards on instinct. “Do I even want to know what you’re hiding?”
“Probably not,” Eddie says, all shark’s smile, toothy and wide and unsettling. Steve opens his mouth to protest but it’s useless. He’s crowded against the kitchen bench as Eddie lunges forwards, ducking Steve’s weak attempt to bat him away, and jams a headband onto his head.
“Adorable,” Eddie grins, pulling an antlered headband from his waistband and putting it on himself.
Steve shakes his head with a sigh and winces at the sound of faint jingling bells.
“Are there bells on my antlers?” Steve asks, trying to muster defeat into his voice as he hides a smile. Eddie won’t meet his eyes. “You’re such a dick, Eds.”
“Love you too, Blitzen,” Eddie laughs, and kisses him.
His lips are soft and he tastes like toothpaste and Steve can’t stop himself from smiling into the kiss. Eddie presses him gently into the kitchen bench, letting his hand drop to Steve’s waist.
There are very few things in the world Steve enjoys as much as he enjoys just kissing Eddie. Soft and tender, rough and mean, all-consuming and overwhelming - Steve will take whatever Eddie gives him and he will ask for more.
He nips playfully at Eddie’s lower lip just to hear him gasp. Eddie hisses softly, the soft exhale hitting Steve’s teeth.
“Asshole,” Eddie laughs lowly, kissing the corner of Steve’s mouth.
“Slut,” Steve breathes back, revelling in Eddie’s indignant flick at his waist.
Eddie kisses him harder then, crowding their bodies together and pressing the small of Steve’s back against the ridge of the kitchen counter. He pulls back for a moment and opens his mouth to say something, eyes playful and smile spreading.
The door to the bathroom swings open and Eddie leaps back like he’s been electrocuted.
“Steve’s arrived!” Eddie says in a strangled tone, letting his arm sweep between Steve and the newly appeared Wayne.
Wayne looks between the two, Steve’s sweater rucked up on one side and Eddie’s lip red where Steve bit it. “Yeah, I can see that,” he deadpans. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, sir- uh, Wayne.” Steve stammers a little and Wayne gives him an amused look.
“You kids wanting to open gifts, I’m guessing?” Wayne sighs, but the tone is fond.
Eddie grins and jumps over the back of the couch to settle into the cushions next to the gift pile. “You know it, old man. I’m gonna knock your damn socks off.”
With a barely restrained smile, Wayne nods, and motions for Steve to join Eddie on the couch as he takes his own seat on the worn armchair. Eddie rests his legs on Steve’s lap as soon as he’s sat, and reaches down to the pile of gifts.
“Open it,” Eddie instructs, tossing Wayne a lumpy wrapped gift, card dangling off a loose circle of scotch tape. “Open the gift before the card.”
Wayne pulls the card off and sets it aside to tear off the crumpled paper. A thick black coat tumbles out, the fibres pilling along the sleeves but the material heavy and soft. Steve had been with Eddie as they’d trawled second-hand clothing stores until they’d found the beautiful long coat. Eddie had needed to sew in some new lining to replace the existing torn insides, but it had come out beautifully. Wayne’s turning the coat in his hands, running his finger tips over the woollen fabric. “This is beautiful. Thank you, son.”
Eddie’s smile is bright enough to light the room, send warmth to all corners of the little trailer, but he just gestures his hand to the card.
As soon as the card is open, a little slip of paper drops out and Wayne picks it up. Steve doesn’t have to look at it to know what it is. A train ticket to North Dakota so Wayne can visit his cousin, one he hasn’t seen in five years and a bit, the only person Wayne talks about almost as much as Eddie.
“Thought you could go while you still have some holiday time left,” Eddie says, voice uncharacteristically hesitant, “If you don’t want to visit that soon, it’s okay, the ticket is refundable and I can always just exchange it for one a different date.”
The ticket isn’t refundable, but Steve’s not going to tell Wayne that.
“No, I’ll be glad to see her,” Wayne says, and blinks away misty eyes. “That’s- thank you, son. Thank you.”
Wayne and Eddie aren’t hugging types, but the brief eye contact they hold is equivalent. Wayne gives Eddie a small nod, and Eddie returns it with a splitting smile.
“My gift sort of- goes along with that,” Steve says awkwardly, not wanting to break the silence.
Wayne’s eyes furrow with surprise and unfold just as quickly. Eddie reaches for the gift, loosely wrapped in gold wrapping paper. Steve’s never been good at it, always had the maid wrap the gifts for him, but he wanted to do it. Wanted to put the care into it, for once.
As soon as it’s in his hands, Wayne rips carefully at the paper until it falls away from the shoebox inside. They’re nice winter boots, lined with fur on the inside.
“I’ve heard North Dakota is really cold this time of year,” Steve explains quickly. “That’s- the coat and the shoes, they’re to keep you warm there.”
“That’s very kind of you, son. Very kind.” Wayne says, and Steve glows a little at the name.
A gift lands on Steve’s lap before he can say another word. “From me,” Eddie says, gesturing at the green wrapped present.
Steve runs his hand along Eddie’s leg gently before he tears off the little Christmas card and opens it.
Stevie
Merry Christmas!
More than anything else, getting to be here with you is the best gift I could have ever asked for. I mean, shit, for a moment there, I didn’t think I was going to see another Christmas ever again. But somehow, I get to spend it with you, the guy I love, who saved my life in every way. Sometimes I can’t even believe you’re a real dude who really loves me back. You’re something else, Steve Harrington.
If you ever tell anyone I’m capable of being this sappy, I’ll kill you.
Love you,
Eds
Steve tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. “That’s- Eds-”
“Don’t you dare,” Eddie says with a little laugh, “I’m a sympathetic crier, if you start crying then I will and you can’t make me cry on Christmas day, you evil shit.”
“Noted.” Steve reaches over to grab Eddie’s hand and kisses his knuckle. “Then I guess I’ll just say thank you.”
“Well, open the gift first,” Eddie shoves him playfully.
He tears open the wrapping and pulls out the box, turning it over in his hands. It’s a pack of walkie-talkies in gaudy packaging, big words advertising a bunch of jargon Steve doesn’t quite know how to interpret the meaning of.
Eddie must see his puzzled expression because he chuckles. “They’re really long range. I know how stressed you get when we go to Indy for the gigs cause your walkies don’t connect. These ones will. I could only afford a pack of three, but I thought one for Max and one for Dustin?”
Since the ever-presence of Vecna in their lives, Dustin and Steve had both gone from relatively well adjusted weirdos with mild control issues to twin mirrors of neuroticism. They haven’t heard a thing from him, and El has sealed off the gate to the best of her abilities, but Steve worries.
He worries about all the kids. About Lucas, with that haunted look that hasn’t left him since the night in the Creel house. He worries about quiet Will and ferocious El and their twin connection to a being thatturned their childhoods into a supernatural warzone. He even worries about Mike, as much as the kids get on his nerves, worries about the lengths Mike will go to for his friends and his tendency towards martyrdom.
And mostly, he worries about Dustin and Max. Max, still in rehabilitative care from the way her body and mind were ravaged by an evil force almost beyond their comprehension, and the way she can’t defend herself. Dustin, who held Eddie’s body for the five minutes he was dead, and who never looked the same again. The little guy has turned himself into a 15 year old army general, with all the burdens that come along with it, radios everyone at all hours of the day and night and demands status updates, just to make sure everyone is still breathing and okay.
So, Eddie gave him the best gift he could have given. The ability to be there for the kids who need him. The safety of knowing they can call him if they need him, that he’s not sacrificing them anytime he wants to spend a night in the city with his boyfriend. He gave him, even in small part, comfort.
“This is- thank you Eds. That’s perfect.”
The grin on Eddie’s face is thousands of kilowatts. “You like it?”
“Of course I do,” Steve smiles fondly, “but now it’s my turn.”
Eddie grabs the last gift of the pile and tears the card off it. He reads it silently, eyes shining.
“I’m sorry, I’m not as good with words as you are, but-”
“I love you,” Eddie says before he can get the words out.
Steve ducks his head. “I love you too, sap.”
Eddie gives him an indignant look before tearing the wrapping off his gift. A denim jacket to replace the one he’d given Steve in the Upside Down, and two tickets to Iron Maiden in Indianapolis.
“You’re fucking joking,” Eddie gasps, “you’re fucking with me.”
“Nup. Clear your calendar for the 19th of March, you’ re gonna get to see Dave Murray in person. You aren’t allowed to leave me for him.”
“I’m not going to make a single promise,” Eddie laughs, “Fuck, how’d you nail it so perfectly? Who gave you an instruction manual for freak metalheads?”
Steve grins. “When you love someone, you pay attention.”
“You call me a sap, Stevie, Jesus Christ.”
“Shut your mouth before I-”
Wayne clears his throat from the armchair with an amused look. “I’m going to get started on lunch. You boys mind running these to Susan?”
He gestures to some gifts on the kitchen bench, tagged for Susan and Max.
Steve nods gratefully and pushes Eddie’s legs off him. “Come on, dork. Let’s go visit the gingers.”
Steve grabs hold of Eddie’s hand and pulls him off the couch, letting Eddie stumble into him and kissing him on the cheek.
They each take a gift from the counter and tuck them under an arm. And together, they step into the cold, hand in hand.
Families flit between the trailers, children bundled up in sweaters and scarves weaving through the trailers in chase between fits of giggles. Parents watch from beside the trailers, nursing steaming mugs in red hands and chatting to neighbours.
Steve waits for the bite of jealousy to come.
It never does.