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“Come on, Munson,” Eddie murmurs forcefully to himself, “you can— you can fucking do this.”
He rolls his shoulders back and flexes his fingers around the steering wheel, so tight that his knuckles start to turn white. He squeezes, watches the discoloration spread. When he finally relaxes his grip, though, his fingers continue to cling onto the leather.
Eddie grits his teeth and lets out a noise of frustration.
Why the fuck can’t he just sack up and do this? What the fuck is so difficult about it?
Oh, yanno, just the fact that it’s Steve Harrington , that’s all , his heart shouts back at his brain. Steve Harrington, who is beautiful and funny and dorky and kind and—
And if Eddie fucks this up, if he makes the wrong assumption, the wrong move, he risks losing all of that.
(He risks a lot more — a punch to the face, a slew of vicious slurs, public humiliation and condemnation. Not that he thinks Steve would ever do any of that, but, well, one can never be too cautious.)
Though, Eddie can say, with full confidence, that losing Steve’s friendship — losing Steve , full stop — would hurt more than any of the rest of it.
He doesn’t think he’d be able to recover from that.
But, if he doesn’t do something about this, these feelings that are bubbling closer and closer to the surface, he’s going to lose his mind. Eddie is but a man; his constitution is weak. There is only so much of Steve he can take before his heart is fit to burst right out of his chest like some fucked up love xenomorph.
Thing is, if he wants to keep that from happening, he has to actually talk to Steve. He has to leave the relatively safe confines of his van and go inside the damn store.
Which — is a lot harder than it looks.
He’s been sitting outside of Family Video for ten going on fifteen minutes now, trying to psych himself up. But every time he comes close to finally bucking up the courage to get out of his car, the wind is knocked from his sails before he even touches the handle.
The only saving grace here is that he is positive Steve and Robin haven’t noticed him. Surely one of them would have come outside to see what the hell is up if they had. On their own they’re worriers, but when they get together it’s like it gets amplified by ten.
Eddie squints through his windshield, through the double front doors where he can just make out Steve laughing at something Robin says. His head drops back, his throat bares, and his teeth shine, even from this far. Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest, and his stomach twists into knots.
“Don’t be such a coward,” he tells himself. “Fucking— go .”
His body doesn’t move. Not even an inch. His ass stays glued to his seat, his feet firmly planted on the floor. His hands don’t leave ten and two.
“God dammit ,” Eddie groans, dropping his forehead down to the wheel.
Except — he underestimates the distance, and rather than pressing into the top of the wheel between his hands, his forehead smacks squarely into the center of the horn.
He jerks back so fast he gives himself whiplash, but the damage is done. There is no taking back the short, sharp, loud honk that emits from the bowels of his traitorous van.
“ Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit ,” Eddie hisses, eyes going wider than the moon hanging in the sky tonight.
He immediately slouches in his seat, sinking down as low as he can go. But it’s too late. He’s caught Steve and Robin’s attention now, and despite parking off to the side and a little further back, his set of wheels is unmistakable.
They’ve seen him. He can’t leave now. He has no choice but to go inside.
Muttering a string of creative curses under his breath, Eddie reaches for the door with a shaking hand. His fingers curl around the handle and he pulls until it clicks . Then he pushes it open with a metallic screech, wincing at the sound.
Slowly, Eddie sticks a foot out of the van, lets it fall to the ground. Stabilizes himself and twists in his seat so he can drop the other foot out too.
And then he’s out of the car. He did it.
Fuck yeah .
He spares a glance towards Family Video. Steve and Robin look like they’ve gone back to work, Steve by one of the shelves towards the front with the cart of returns at his side and Robin pulling more Milk Duds out of a cardboard box at her feet. They’re not paying him any attention, except — wait, no. That’s— that’s Steve turning towards the window, squinting out of it like he’s—
Like he’s looking for Eddie. Like he’s expecting him.
Which, after the horn, he probably is .
The euphoria of making it out of his van after struggling for so long gets swallowed up by a fresh round of nerves, buzzing in his veins and settling in the pit of his stomach.
Eddie hangs onto the door to collect himself. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. Lets the air fill his lungs, lets it buoy him up. He holds it in for a few seconds, then blows it out in a calm, cool, collected stream.
“You can do this,” he whispers, nodding firmly. “You got this.”
He opens his eyes, straightens his spine, and slams the door shut. Pockets his keys and starts to walk, one foot after the other, towards the store entrance.
Towards Steve .
As he crosses the parking lot, Eddie thinks back to those cans of soda pop Wayne used to buy as a treat during the summertime. They kept the whole pack in the refrigerator to make sure they stayed cold by the time one of them wanted one. Every time Wayne would ask Eddie to fetch him one, Eddie would shake the thing like crazy, hoping to catch his uncle by surprise with a fizzy eruption when he cracked the tab for the first sip.
That’s what Eddie’s stomach feels like right now. Like a can of fizzy pop, on the verge of eruption.
His palms are sweating as he approaches the door, and he wipes them against his jeans, but that doesn’t really do anything. He thinks he might pass out. Or ralph. He’s not sure which would be worse.
But there’s the door. Looming in front of him, getting closer with every step. And there’s Steve behind it, focused on his restocking. His brow is furrowed, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth as his eyes scan the shelf in front of him, periodically flickering back down to the tape in his hand.
He always looks so cute when he’s concentrating. And watching him like this — he doesn’t seem so scary. He’s… he’s just a guy. Just Steve. Eddie’s friend.
It’s a comforting thought, one that settles something in Eddie, just enough that the knot in his stomach loosens. He can do this. Yeah, he can do this .
Eddie comes to a stop in front of the door. Here goes , he thinks, closing his fingers around the handle. He takes one last deep breath and pulls.
The door jingles, signaling his arrival, and there’s a new pep in his step as he crosses the threshold. Holds his head high. Fluffs up his hair. There’s a confidence to his movements that wasn’t there before. Eddie doesn’t know where the hell it came from, but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, thanks very much.
“Evening, Lord and Lady of Rewinderton,” Eddie announces, grinning with all of his teeth. He pats himself on the back for sounding so normal.
“Eddie!” Steve exclaims, spinning on his heel, stack of VHS’s long forgotten as his eyes land on Eddie and he fucking lights up . His face breaks into the biggest, sunniest smile that Eddie has ever seen, like he’s so god damn pleased to see him. Like it’s the best thing to happen to him all day. “Hey!”
Eddie’s stomach flips, his heart stutters, and his own smile turns a little goofy. He takes another step towards Steve only—
Only to fucking trip . Over nothing .
There is not one single fucking thing on the floor in front of him. Not a stray tape, not a fallen candy bar, not even a run in the carpet. He trips over absofuckinglutely nothing .
Go fucking figure.
Eddie’s eyes bug, and his arms flail out in a way that would probably be comical if he weren’t about to totally eat shit in front of Steve fucking Harrington. He makes an entirely involuntary, undignified squawking noise as he careens towards the ground. His knees hit the floor, hard , and his palms slide against the carpet in a way that burns . His head ricochets after, jaw slamming his teeth together as his chin smacks into the ground.
It hurts, but what hurts worse is his pride because fuck, that was so embarrassing .
“Ow,” Eddie says, deadpan. He doesn’t move to get up at first. Instead, just lies right where he landed even though he knows it’s probably disgusting down here. He has no idea when the last time the floors got cleaned — if the floors get cleaned. He’s never heard Steve mention it before.
But he would take this dirty old floor over facing Steve right now. The thought of that makes him want to die. It makes him, for the first time since it’s happened, wish that the Upside Down would open back up and swallow him whole. That sure as shit would beat this .
Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be on the same page.
“Shit man,” he says, the tape in his hand dropping back onto the pile with a clatter as he pushes the cart out of the way. He’s at Eddie’s side in seconds, crouching down beside him and brushing his hair from his face so he can check on him. Steve tilts his head nearly upside down so he can hang it in front of Eddie’s, and the corner of his mouth quirks up when Eddie finally looks up and meets his gaze. “Hey, hey, there he is. Are you okay?”
He’s so fucking cute , even in crisis mode. It’s not fair .
Eddie groans. His face is flaming. He moves to sit back on his haunches, and Steve moves with him, clapping one hand carefully over Eddie’s shoulder while the other wraps around his bicep.
“Easy,” Steve says as Eddie tries to stand. He holds onto him, practically cradles Eddie’s body to his own as he helps him to his feet.
Eddie’s skin tingles beneath Steve’s touch, sparks trailing down his arm as Steve’s palms sweep the length of them and briefly circle his wrists before finally letting go.
“Do you need me to call someone?” Robin calls from behind the counter, where she’s moved towards the phone. Her hand hovers above it as she waits for her next cue. “A doctor? Wayne?”
“No, no !” Eddie cries out, sticking his hand out to stop her. He does not need a doctor, and adding Wayne to this mix would be grounds for Eddie to move states, countries, continents . There’s no god damn way Wayne would let him live this down. Jesus. No . “I’m fine, I am totally, completely, one hundred percent fine. A-okay. Fit as a fiddle. Right as rain. Cool as a cucumber. Loose as a goose.”
He’s still talking. Why is he still talking?
Eddie snaps his jaw shut with a tight smile and shoots a pair of double fisted finger guns at them. Good god, why didn’t the floor finish the job?
Robin snorts a little under her breath and raises an eyebrow at him. Steve just looks bemused, leaning against the shelf with his arms crossed casually over his chest.
It’s cool. It’s totally cool. Eddie made a fool of himself. So what? He always makes a fool of himself. Sure, most of the time it’s on purpose, a carefully controlled sort of buffoonery that leaves him with the upper hand. But he can roll with this. Absolutely, he can.
“So, what’s up?” Steve asks, pushing himself off of the shelf to reach for another tape to put back. “Here to grab a movie?”
Eddie shakes his head. “Mm, no no. Got plenty of those at home,” he replies.
“Yeah, your late fees would agree,” Robin chimes in.
Eddie ignores her. “I’m here,” he impresses, “to ask you:” he turns towards Steve and steels himself — this is it, he’s gonna do it, he’s gonna fucking flirt with Steve Harrington, “am— are you an angel? ‘Cause I think you just fell for m— I just fell for— I— shit.”
It’s silent for one excruciatingly long second. Then another. And another.
“Is he concussed?” Robin whispers to Steve. “Is this what you sounded like after your brain got tossed like salad? Should we be concerned?”
And, nope. No. No . Eddie has had enough. He has done enough.
The urge to run twitches in his toes, and, well, wasn’t it Steve himself who told him once to not be the hero? To follow that good ‘ol runner’s instinct of his? This sure as hell is not a sword Eddie wants to die on anyways. This is mortifying .
Eddie opens his mouth to announce his imminent departure, but no words fall out. It’s probably a good thing — who knows what else he’d say that could fuck this up even more (assuming that’s even possible ). Instead he just jerks his thumb over his shoulder towards the door and starts to back away,
He doesn’t turn until the last second (and thank god he timed that right, bouncing off of the glass like a rubber fucking ball would’ve been the fucking cherry on the shit sundae), but when he does he doesn’t waste a second grabbing the door handle and yanking. He pulls so hard and so quickly, in fact, that he almost falls again because, whaddayaknow, the door’s not a fucking pull. It’s a god damn push .
Jesus christ, what is his life? He’d say some sort of comedy of errors, only he’s not laughing.
“Oh, Eddie, it’s—”
“Push, yeah, yep, got it, uh huh,” he interrupts shrilly, letting out a bleat of slightly hysterical laughter before pushing the door.
It opens without a problem. The stupid bell above jingles mockingly.
“I— yeah — bye.” Eddie tosses a blind wave over his shoulder and hurries away from the scene of the fucking crime.
He slinks back to his van with grand plans to hide in the dark and lick his wounds. His keys nearly fall from his fingers in his haste to unlock the door. When he finally gets it open, he slides into his seat and immediately groans, burying his face into his hands.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mutters, banging his head against the wheel with each repetition (because, apparently, he’s a glutton for punishment and already forgot what happened the last time he did this). Thankfully, his aim is better this time around.
“So fucking embarrassing. What a fucking mess, a god damn fucking disaster . What the hell were you thinking, Munson?”
He groans again, then lets the silence swallows him up as he hunches over, thunking his face into his hands once again.
He’s not sure how long he ends up sitting there, wallowing, but it’s long enough for his guard to slip. So when the passenger side door wrenches open with a metallic squeal, it scares the everloving bejesus out of him.
Eddie jerks upright, one hand balling into a fist in front of his face while the other scrambles for his keys, clutching them tight and thrusting them forward, like a makeshift weapon.
“Woah, woah, hey, it’s just— it’s just me!” Steve exclaims, holding out a placating hand.
“J-jesus, man,” Eddie breathes out when his eyes focus and, yep, that’s Steve. The relief doesn’t last very long before his heart starts thudding again for an entirely different reason.
Eddie lowers the keys, dropping them back into the cup holder, and Steve slides into the passenger’s seat, shutting the door behind him and plunging them into silence again.
“Are you okay?” Steve asks after a second, and Eddie knows he’s asking after more than just this little scare.
Eddie sighs, wringing his hands in his lap. He slumps down in his seat and looks out the window, unable to meet Steve’s eyes. He can feel them on him, though. It’s— it’s a lot. “Just— really fucking embarrassed,” he admits quietly. “But I’ll live.” Barely.
Steve’s vest rustles, and Eddie doesn’t have to look to know he’s running a hand through his hair. He does that a lot, when things get awkward, when he doesn’t know what else to do with them.
“Yeah, um, that sure was… something in there,” Steve says, chuckling uneasily. Like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to.
“How hard is Robin laughing right now, huh?”
“She’s not—”
Eddie turns to fix Steve with a stern look.
Steve ducks his head. “Okay, yeah. She is . But not at you— not entirely at you.”
Eddie groans softly. “We don’t— let’s just never speak of that, like, ever. I don’t. I don’t even know what that was.”
“It was cute,” Steve says, not missing a beat.
Eddie’s heart does. “Wh-what?”
“It was cute,” Steve repeats, giving a little shrug. A lopsided smile. “You’re cute.”
Eddie must have really hit his fucking head. Either that or Steve’s just yanking his chain.
“Ha ha, yeah, reeeal fucking cute,” Eddie laughs bitterly, shifting in his seat to put some distance between himself and Steve. He lifts his foot onto the seat and hugs his knee to his chest.
If Steve’s teasing him, he doesn’t fucking appreciate it. Not right now. It feels a little too much like kicking him while he’s down.
Steve frowns. “Hey, no, stop,” he says, whacking the back of his hand against Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m being serious right now.”
It’s too tempting not to chance a glance over, to look right into Steve’s eyes. They’re big and wide and earnest. His whole face is completely open. He is being serious.
Eddie’s breath catches. His heart flops. Hope wriggles its way into the space behind his ribs. He winds a piece of hair around his finger, pulling it in front of his mouth. He lowers his walls, just an inch.
“Really?” He whispers. It’s deafening in the otherwise quiet car.
Steve’s face softens. “Eddie, I think everything you do is cute,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Like he isn’t tilting Eddie’s entire world on its axis with those eight little words.
He leans in, bumps his shoulder into Eddie’s. Leaves it there. A warm, solid presence. A gentle reminder. “Especially when you try to flirt with me,” Steve adds, grinning roguishly. “That’s what that was, right?”
Eddie can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up. Part incredulous, part horrified.
“Oh my god, no, no, no. I said we don’t need to talk about that… that… jesus christ, that disaster ,” Eddie whines, turning big, betrayed eyes onto Steve, who—
Who just laughs. Bright and buoyant and with Eddie, not at him.
“No, wait, come on,” Steve says, tugging at Eddie’s shirtsleeve. “That’s— I’m right, aren’t I? You came here to— to flirt a little? To maybe—” Steve bites his lip, searches Eddie, “— to maybe ask me out?”
He sounds so hopeful. Like he actually wants that to be true, and — shit. It is true.
Eddie nods. “I— yeah,” he confesses. “I was gonna, um, test the waters? Like, y’know, sweet talk you a little. Play it up. Maybe call you somethin’ nice. And, uh, if you didn’t— if it went okay, I was— yeah. I was gonna ask you out.” He rubs a hand over his hand and sighs heavily. “But, man, I fucked it up before I could even try.”
Steve starts shaking his head before Eddie even finishes the sentence. “No way. You didn’t fuck anything up, Eddie.” He sits up straighter in his seat, eyes glittering as he holds onto Eddie’s forearm. “In fact, you should— you should totally try again.”
Eddie blinks at him. “What?”
“Try again,” Steve repeats. He fluffs his hair and shakes himself out and settles back in his seat, then holds his arms out. I’m ready , his body language says, hit me .
Eddie cracks a smile. He can’t help it. A wave of giddy excitement rises up and crests through him. Holy shit . It’s happening. He’s doing it — for real this time.
His eyes sweep over Steve, taking in his rumpled Family Video vest; his hair, wilting from hours on the job; the tiny patch of breakout near his forehead from stress and lack of sleep — the way that Steve is glowing despite it all.
“Steve,” Eddie says, rubbing his palms, still sweaty and shaking just a little, down his thighs.
“Eddie,” Steve echoes, smiling encouragingly.
“Will you— would— do you maybe want to— get, um, dinner, or something? With me? Sometime?” He trips over the question, stumbles over the words that get tangled on his tongue, but he gets them out, and that’s really all that matters in the end, isn’t it?
“Eddie,” Steve says again, leaning towards him, “I would love to. Yes.”
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Steve said yes.
Eddie’s heart slams into his ribs and then soars right through the cracks. His own uncontrollable smile breaks out across his face, stretching his cheeks so wide it aches. It doesn’t matter how pathetic his earlier attempt was, or how utterly hopeless he is at flirting in the first place. It doesn’t matter how big of a fool he makes of himself. It doesn’t matter because Steve likes it . Likes him . And he said yes .
Bolstered by this, Eddie dares to ask for the one other thing he so desperately wants.
“Can I kiss you?”
“ Please ,” Steve breathes, already crowding into Eddie’s space.
Eddie’s hand catches Steve’s jaw, cradles it in his palm, just as their mouths crash together. Steve’s nose squishes into his cheek, and their teeth click at first. They laugh into each other’s mouths before Steve tilts his head, and his lips fit to Eddie’s properly. And it’s—
It’s everything Eddie could have hoped it would be and so much more.
Steve’s mouth is warm, his kiss is sweet. He tastes like caramel and cherry licorice — Family Video’s finest — and Eddie wants to get lost in it. He never wants to come up for air.
They do end up having to break apart when their smiles grow too big and get in the way of the kissing. Steve doesn’t go far, though. He stays in Eddie’s space, fingers curled around his wrist to keep him close. His forehead presses into Eddie’s, and Eddie goes cross eyed trying to look at him.
“Y’know, I’ve kind of been hoping you’d make a move for ages now,” Steve says with a little giggle that burrows its way beneath Eddie’s skin and directly into his heart.
“You have?” Eddie asks, brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheek, over his favorite cluster of freckles. He’s still a little in awe that that’s something he gets to do now.
Steve nods. “Oh yeah. It was— I wanted it so bad I thought I was going to burst,” he chuckles. “I was this close to just doing it myself. Like, if you would’ve waited any longer I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”
Eddie’s jaw drops. “You’re shitting me,” he says. “Are you saying I could’ve just waited a few more days and avoided this whole god damn mess?”
Steve laughs. “I mean, yeah, but then we’d still be waiting to do this,” he says, and winds his fingers into the front of Eddie’s shirt so he can tug him back in for another kiss.
It’s just as sweet as the first, just as toe-curlingly good. Eddie is never going to get sick of this. In fact, he’s going to be downright insatiable .
Eddie isn’t sure how long they spend after that, just kissing in the front seat of his van. Learning each other’s mouths, the shape, the taste, the feel.
The next time they split, Steve’s eyes stray to the right, and he squints out the windshield.
Eddie turns, curiosity piqued, and peers out into the dark parking lot, trying to spot what caught Steve’s attention. The lot is basically empty, so he’s not quite sure what exactly it is — until his gaze flickers across the front of Family Video.
“Is that—”
“Robin,” Steve finishes with a laugh.
Sure enough, Robin is standing in front of the store, one foot caught between the door to keep it from shutting completely. She’s waving her arms all through the air, like she’s trying to make herself bigger — like she’s trying to be noticed — and Eddie’s willing to bet if they cranked a window, they’d hear her shouting too.
Eddie lifts a hand in a wave, fighting off a blush because there’s no way she didn’t see what they were just doing. Beside him, Steve wiggles his own fingers, looking completely unashamed.
Robin throws her hands up ( finally ) and overexaggeratedly points at her watch, tapping her foot pointedly. It’s hard to tell from so far away, but Eddie is pretty sure she’s glaring at them.
Steve uses his grip on Eddie’s arm to turn it so he can read the face of his watch, and he curses softly. “Oh, shit,” he laughs, looking up at Eddie with yeesh written all over his features. “We’ve been out here a long time.”
“Oops?” Eddie replies, but he doesn’t sound all that sorry about it. He isn’t all that sorry about it. Frankly, there is no better way to spend the time than kissing Steve Harrington.
He can tell by the grin on Steve’s face, that Steve isn’t all that sorry either.
“I, uh, probably should head back in, though. Before Robin breaks into your car and drags me back herself,” Steve says, sighing.
“She’d do that?” Eddie asks.
Steve gives him a deadly serious look. “Absolutely, she would. Inventory nights are her worst enemy. She’ll, like, put Nair in my shampoo bottle if I make her do it alone.”
“Oh no, who will you be without that gorgeous head of hair?” Eddie jokes, lifting his hand to it. He cards his fingers through the silken locks, because he can. Tugs lightly on some of them. Steve doesn’t even try and bat his hand away. It makes Eddie’s insides feel warm and gooey.
“I don’t wanna leave this car,” Steve says mournfully, eyes going all droopy and wistful.
Eddie doesn’t want Steve to leave this car either. If he could keep Steve here, he would. If he could give him the world, he would.
It takes everything in his power to tell Steve, “It’s okay. We’ve got that date to go on anyways, right? We’ll make it last forever.”
Steve’s pout perks up, mouth quirking at the corners instead and eyes brightening. He nods and squeezes Eddie’s wrist. “Pick me up at eleven tomorrow?” He asks. “We’ll make a whole day of it.”
Eddie’s heart kickflips in his chest. A whole day? It sounds fucking perfect .
Steve doesn’t wait for an answer before he leans in to leave one last fleeting kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth — a promise for more.
Just as quickly as he’s there, he’s gone. Slipping out of the car and closing the door behind him with a solid thunk.
“It’s a date,” Eddie calls after him, leaning half across the passenger seat so he can crank the window down.
They grin goofily at each other through the frame for a moment, before Steve starts to walk backwards.
“Bye,” Steve says.
“Bye,” Eddie repeats.
“Bye,” Steve says again, then promptly stumbles over a pebble. He catches himself before he can fall on his ass, and laughs a little. Better luck than Eddie, so it seems.
“Are you an angel?” Steve asks, and Eddie groans.
“ Bye , Steve,” he calls, before Steve can finish his godawful failure of a pickup line, turning his head dramatically the other way.
When he looks back a few seconds later, Steve has turned to face forward, but he tosses one last glance over his shoulder and waves before hurrying back to the store.
Eddie waits until Steve is halfway across the parking lot before he closes the window and starts to celebrate — dancing around in his seat and pumping his fists and whooping excitedly.
It’s totally and completely the dorkiest thing he could ever do, but he can’t help himself. He’s fucking elated . He did it. He did it .
He landed a date with Steve. He kissed Steve. He’s going to fall madly in love with Steve and be with him forever.
(Who is Eddie kidding? He’s already halfway to that last one.)
Eddie starts to drum his hands against the steering wheel, and he headbangs to the celebratory tune in his head, hair flying everywhere. It whips across his eyes, blinding him briefly as he brings his palm down and—
And smacks squarely into the center of the horn.
This time, when the honk blares out into the night, Steve is the one that jumps, spinning on his heel in the middle of the parking lot with bewildered eyes.
Okay, Eddie jumps too — but he’s only a little bit embarrassed to be caught fist pumping about scoring a date with Steve.
Steve laughs, shaking his head fondly, and thrusts his own fist into the air, John Bender style. He mimes the crowd going wild and then takes a bow. Then he brings his fingers up to his mouth and blows Eddie a kiss.
God, he’s such a dork.
My dork , Eddie thinks.
He catches the kiss and holds it against his heart.