lightfish
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"Yeah, yeah – laugh all you want. I see you’re still making fun of us older people,” Eddie drawls out as he leans his arms on the roof of the car, lowering his head to look at him. The t-shirt underneath his leather jacket is riding up, showing a trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the jeans.
Steve’s not laughing anymore.
“See you, Munson,” Steve says, lifting his gaze a second too late; he knows Eddie has seen his eyes linger. Eddie pats the roof twice in goodbye and slams the door shut, sauntering towards the trailer.
“Was that just me, or...” Vickie whispers.
“Yep,” Robin interjects. “Could cut the tension with a fucking knife.”
Steve squeezes his eyes shut, groaning.
“Don’t start, Robin.”
Or: Steve Harrington moves to Hawkins, trading his parents' empty mansion for a rental and a job at the local repair shop. He's looking for peace and quiet. Instead, he hires Eddie Munson as a mover, steals his rings, and learns that sometimes, finding balance requires embracing a little chaos.
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“You’re a mad one, Steve.” Eddie surveys him with a frown. “Going around, asking for my fucking name when I didn’t want to give it? Got myself,” he leans closer, speaks lower, “a little stalker?”
He smells like sweat and something bittersweet, tangerine. Steve’s gaze falls down to the curl of his mouth when he pulls back. Doesn’t let himself backpedal over the accusation.
“Tell me you do with everyone what you did with me tonight and I’m going to fuck off.”
Eddie is looking at his lips, too.
Or: Eddie Munson is a stripper. Steve Harrington works a corporate job. Trust Robin Buckley's bachelorette party to make their worlds collide.
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1987 went to shit. Vecna brought on what may well be the apocalypse, and Steve fought it to the end. Literally.
Death was supposed to be a one-way street. But knowing a girl with super powers had a tendency to change the game. So when Steve opens his eyes to a beer-soaked bathroom on Halloween in 1984, Nancy calling him 'bullshit' all over again, the universe might forgive Steve for thinking he was either a) in Hell or b) going cracked. But Steve didn't have time to freakout. Not when El finds him and asks that he help her change the events of the future. Not when he's the only other person she managed to drag with her for chance number two.
OR: A time travel fix-it, where 1987 Steve is dropped back into his 1984 self. And now he has to deal with that plus the impending apocalypse on the horizon. But he'll be fine, right? Because, as El informs whoever asks, Steve's 'The Babysitter'. So he gets to work. He can cry later, when he's done.
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“You’re stubborn and a hothead. You’re impossible to work with and you’re stuck in the past. Nancy said you’d be hard work but this is fucking ridiculous. I’m here to do a job. You won’t let me change or even suggest anything.”
“Not true. I did change the turmeric for saffron.”
“Yeah and you’re about this close to jumping off a bridge before admitting that it actually does taste better.”
Steve could strangle him.
Because yes. The saffron does taste better. The saffron tastes so much better and the dish now makes Steve’s tastebuds soar and his eyes water and the only thing worse than admitting Eddie is correct right now, is admitting that that dish is miles fucking better since Eddie puts his hands on it.
And Steve finds himself wondering for a split fucking moment in between the rage he’s feeling, if everything is better with Eddie’s hands on it.
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Son of famous, michelin-star chef, Steve Harrington is trying to gain a star of his own after a stint in rehab that left him with a lack of inspiration, until his restaurant manager Nancy has an idea of her own to add a spark back into the kitchen.
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Eddie freezes, terrified that moving even an inch will break the spell. His arm stays where it is, draped across the couch, but he angles it just enough that it curves protectively around Steve’s shoulders. Not touching, not really.
And Eddie… God. Eddie’s done for. He can’t imagine a life without this guy anymore.
When did that happen? When did it change? When did Steve fucking Harrington go from the rich kid with perfect hair and too many friends to… this? To someone Eddie would fight monsters for. Someone he’d sit awake for, just to make sure he’s breathing okay. Someone who falls asleep against Eddie like Eddie is someone solid, someone safe.
It’s insane. It’s absolutely deranged. If his high school self could see this — Steve Harrington wrapped around him like some big, warm golden retriever of a hero — Eddie would’ve laughed in disbelief. Or passed out. Or both.
But reality is right here, breathing against his collarbone. Steve asleep beside him, trusting Eddie to watch over him. To stay.
Or: 5 times Steve falls asleep on Eddie and 1 time Eddie returns the favor.
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Bookmarked by lightfish
23 Mar 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
He feels those butterflies — the ones he keeps telling himself don’t exist — flutter violently in his stomach. The air shimmers with their silvery wings when he exhales, presses the back of his head against the couch cushion, mouth curling in a reluctant smile as he whispers to the ceiling, “Get a grip, Munson. Fuck.”
Loved this! So so good