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“Wheeler,” Eddie says carefully as he squints into the darkness outside the windshield, straining to see even a glimpse of Hopper’s cabin where they’re having El’s birthday party, “are you kidnapping me?”
Remembering he once watched her saw off the barrel of a rifle before going to kill an interdimensional monster, he adds, “Not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that I’ve seen what you can do with a gun, and I need to know if I should be ready to serpentine.”
In the driver's seat, Nancy just smiles sharply and doesn’t falter as she guides her car through dark woods that all look the same. “Please,” she scoffs. “If I was going to kidnap you, you wouldn’t see it coming.”
He has no doubt that it’s true.
He also thinks he should find her words more disturbing than he does, but… Well, that’s just a testament to the fucked up shit he’s seen this year, isn’t it?
He laughs slightly. “If only the people in this town knew how freaky you really are. Maybe I should tell them— good girl Nancy Wheeler knows how to use a gun, and also could kidnap any of us without a trace.”
“They wouldn’t believe you and you know it.”
“What do you think they’d have a harder time believing? That you can use a gun, or that we’re friends?”
Nancy brings the car to a stop— Eddie is only unalarmed by the fact that there is nothing significant about this patch of woods they stopped in because he can see Steve’s BMW and the Byers’ minivan parked there already— and snorts as she turns off the engine. “That we’re friends, definitely. Now come on, we walk from here.” She swings herself out of her car and moves to shut the door, but pauses to lean back in and say, “Oh, and watch for tripwire.”
“What—“ She slams the door, and Eddie is left to toss that wonderful warning around in his head. “Nancy! I thought we were going to Hopper’s cabin! What do you mean tripwire?!”
He stops, hand on the door handle.
Actually—
That makes sense, he thinks. Of course Hopper has tripwire around his cabin. He’s surprised more of them don’t have tripwire around their homes.
He gets out of the car, El’s present in his hand, and Nancy inclines her head to her left, between Steve and Joyce’s cars. “Come on, it’s up this way.”
“Are we the last ones, d’you think?”
“Mm, probably. That’s Steve and Joyce, and I know Mike came over early to help set up.” Nancy pauses, the type of pause that Eddie has come to know means he’s not going to want to continue the conversation. “Speaking of Steve—”
“No,” Eddie interrupts quickly. “No, don’t do this Wheeler—“
“—I’m surprised he didn’t pick you up,” Nancy presses, undeterred by his objections. “You two have been spending a lot of time together lately.”
“Why didn’t you pick Robin up? She’s your girlfriend,” he shoots back, raising an eyebrow.
Nancy is unperturbed. “Nice try, Munson. I asked you first.”
There is nothing he wants to do less than have this conversation right now, much less because they just had it a few days ago, but Nancy has never refused to drop it before, so he knows there’s no use in trying to get out of it now.
He sighs, resigned to his interrogation.
“As I’ve told you before, we spend a normal amount of time together,” he says, even though he knows it’s pointless. “Because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do. Anyways, he didn’t pick me up because the kids and Robin claimed dibs. It’s not like it was personal.”
“I’m not saying it was, just that it’s surprising that you didn’t fight harder for his passenger seat. I mean, I recall just last month when you were sitting in my room, panicking because you couldn’t get ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ quite perfect and it has to be perfect, Nancy, because I’m playing it for Steve since it’s his new favorite song, and everything has to be perfect for him because I’m in love with him!”
Her voice went all high and whiny in her imitation of him, and Eddie sniffed indignantly. “I do not sound like that. And I didn’t say that, either. I said that I wanted it to be good since I was dedicating it to him, and it would be embarrassing if I played something that sounded like shit. I’d do the same for you.”
“Fine. But you still played it at a metal concert and dedicated it to him. A love song, Eddie. You played a love song for him.”
He opens his mouth to object, but— “Yeah okay, I did do that. But it’s not really a love song—”
“Okay fine, it wasn’t a love song. But it’s a song about finding love, and you sang it to Steve, who you are in love with.”
Eddie is seriously starting to wonder how much fucking further Hopper’s cabin is, because he’s not sure he can take anymore of Nancy’s pressing. He loves her, but seriously. She doesn’t know how to let a guy pine in peace.
“I told you that in confidence, Wheeler, because I thought you’d commiserate. Understand. Comfort me. Instead you just torture me with your top secret knowledge.”
“I was commiserating until you sat in my room for four days straight trying to learn ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody.’ After that…”
“Are you ever going to let that go?”
She pretends to think for a moment, then says shortly, “Nope.”
She bumps her shoulder against his to soften the blow and he shakes his head, but he can’t help but smile slightly. Really, even though he wishes she would let his stubborn feelings for Steve go a little more frequently than she does, he’s grateful for her. It’s nice having someone that gets the strangeness that is having feelings for Steve Harrington, that gets what it’s like to look at him, with his colorful polos and his hair reaching the sky and his hands on his hips like a dad on the sidelines at a basketball game, and want to cry from the sheer desire to kiss him.
Actually, he thinks that the fourth time he said that is when Nancy stopped commiserating and started teasing him, so maybe she doesn’t understand. Maybe she just thinks he’s a gay disaster.
Actually, she definitely knows he’s a gay disaster.
“Anyways,” he says, just to keep himself from thinking about the mess that Steve turns him into, “it’s not like it matters. I don’t know if he feels that way about me.”
It was a flimsy excuse, because Eddie has noticed Steve staring and lingering and blushing, but he’s honestly just trying to finish the conversation since he can finally see Hopper’s cabin.
Nancy, though, doesn’t seem to get the memo, or she just doesn’t care. “He played D&D just because you asked him to,” she says matter of factly, as if it explained anything.
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Eddie, Steve from a year and a half ago? He never would have even thought about playing D&D, even for Dustin. And he’d do anything for that kid.”
“Yeah, okay. I hear you.”
Hopper’s front porch is just steps away, close enough that he can hear laughter and music through the door, and he picks up the pace so that they can go inside and stop talking about his and Steve’s relationship, but he’s stopped by Nancy’s hand on his arm.
“Listen, Eddie. I’m sorry to press so hard. It’s just…” Her eyes go big and emotional, and she squeezes his arm slightly. “It’s just that you make each other so happy, and after everything, I think you both deserve that happiness. Don’t you?”
He sighs and pulls her in for a hug. “I do, Nancy. And thank you for caring so much. But when— if— we find our way together, it’s going to happen at our own pace. Okay?”
“I know, I know.”
The door swings open then, yellow light spilling over the front porch and flooding the woods, and Robin calls out to them, “Oi, Munson! Are you going to keep hogging my girlfriend, or are you guys coming in?”
“Don’t get your pants in a twist Buckley, she’s all yours,” Eddie grumbles at her as he bounds up the stairs. “God knows she’s tortured me enough for one evening.”
She steps aside for him, and once he’s stepped past, he hears her greet Nancy with a short kiss and a quiet, “Torturing him?”
“About Steve,” Nancy murmurs back quietly enough that he knows no one else heard— not when the entire room is calling out greetings to them, variations of you made it (Joyce) and took you long enough (Dustin).
Still, he wants to shush her just out of principle and the acute awareness that Steve is somewhere in this room, even if he hasn’t laid eyes on him yet. Before he can do so, though, El comes bounding up to him, her curly bob bouncing around her ears.
She’s beaming as she stops in front of him and says happily, “Eddie! You came!”
He smiles helplessly at her and ruffles her hair. “Of course I did, squirt! Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Oh,” he holds out the present to her, “and this is for you. Happy birthday, El.”
She grins even wider and ignores the present in favor of rushing forward to hug him tight. “Thank you, Eddie. I will set it on the table with the others, and open it after we have cake.”
“Whatever you want, squirt, it’s your birthday after all!”
She pulls back and takes the present from him, then turns to greet Nancy.
He turns to take stock of the room finally, at this sprawling family that he’s come to call his own. Joyce and Hopper are both in the kitchen, laughing and putting the final touches on dinner together. Jonathan has his camera out and pointed towards them, capturing their domestic bliss, while Argyle stands at his side picking M&M’s out of a bowl of trail mix. The couches are crammed full of the kids, an empty spot between Max and Mike that Eddie figures El had been in before she got up.
But— Eddie can’t help but notice in disappointment— there’s no sign of Steve.
He’s just about to turn to Robin and ask where Steve is when he hears the back door open, and Steve’s voice calls out, “Eddie!”
Jesus, even just the sound of his voice is enough to make Eddie grin like a fool, which is just… It’s unfair, honestly.
In what he thinks is an impressive show of composure, he stifles the bubbly giddiness in his heart that happens whenever Steve enters the room and spins on his heel to face him, arms spread out to his sides. “In the flesh, big boy.”
And now, face to face with Steve—
He’s glad he had started talking before he turned around, because he absolutely would have been rendered speechless by Steve.
Hell, he is rendered speechless by Steve.
Steve is usually maddening, by virtue of the fact that he hides himself away under colorful polos and sweaters, leaving Eddie with only the memory of his bare chest from when they were fighting for their lives in the Upside Down.
But tonight, he has gone so far as to wear not only a button up, but also a sweater vest.
An argyle sweater vest, with red and orange and brown rhombuses stretched across his chest.
Eddie wants to cry, because never in his life had he imagined he’d be head over heels in love with someone who wears argyle sweater vests to a sixteen year old’s birthday party, but here he is.
He wants to tug Steve closer by the lapels of his button down, he wants to grab him by his sweater vest, he wants to tangle his fingers in that impossibly perfect head of hair, he wants to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him—
He is startled out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, burning hot even through his leather jacket, and he blinks as Steve comes back into focus, so much closer than he was before. “Eddie?” He asks, eyes wide with worry. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Eddie says, voice coming out much higher than usual. He clears his throat and attempts a reassuring smile, but he’s sure it comes out shaky because Steve is there and he’s in a sweater vest— “I’m good, man, sorry. Zoned out a little. Were you saying something?”
Steve hesitates for a moment, searching Eddie’s face as if he doesn’t believe him, but must decide to drop it because he pulls his hand away from his shoulder.
(Eddie tries not to miss it.
He fails.)
“I was just saying I was getting you a beer, if you want it.”
Eddie blinks— in his stupor over that damn sweater vest, he hadn’t even noticed that Steve was holding anything, but sure enough he has two beers in his left hand and one more extended towards Eddie.
He could kiss Steve just for this, Eddie thinks as he grins and takes the beer from him. A drink is exactly what he needs after realizing he is utterly inconsolable at the sight of Steve Harrington in a sweater vest.
“Thanks Steve,” he says instead. “See, this is why we’re friends.”
“Oh, is it? And here I was thinking it was because you were after my hair routine. Silly me.”
Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes. “Nah, don’t worry. I’ll be leaving Farrah Fawcett to you.”
Steve’s eyes narrow, and Eddie realizes he just signed Dustin’s death sentence. “How did you know about that?”
Eddie laughs nervously and says with a flippant handwave, “Oh, you know.”
Really, he found out because he’d been ranting to Dustin about Steve and his stupid perfect hair and how stupidly soft it looked even though it had to use so much product and how did he do that, when Dustin had snapped and revealed Steve’s secret. But he can’t exactly tell Steve that.
Thankfully, Steve doesn’t press, just shakes his head. “Oh, I do know. If you’ll excuse me, Eddie, I have to strangle Dustin now.”
Then he turns and strides across the cabin, and suddenly Eddie is inconsolable for another reason, which is the killer combination of Steve’s broad swimmer shoulders in a sweater vest, Steve’s long legs in slacks, and Steve’s knobby ankles poking out of said slacks.
Jesus Christ, he needs help.
He feels a presence at his side, and he doesn’t need to look to know it’s Nancy, which is good because he can’t tear his eyes away from Steve, now leaning over the couch with Dustin in a pretend chokehold as he ruffles his hair.
“You know,” Nancy says after a moment in which it becomes clear Eddie isn’t going to say anything, “Steve didn’t even say hi to me.”
“Nancy,” Eddie hears himself say faintly, “he’s wearing an argyle sweater vest.”
She pats his shoulder once in sympathy, then walks away without a word.
Traitor, Eddie thinks, tossing her a glare which goes entirely ignored.
He takes a dejected sip of his drink, but he catches sight of Steve again, all ankles and argyle, and suddenly taking a dejected sip becomes tossing the whole thing back.
Argyle.
Jesus H. Christ.
—
Being around Steve becomes only slightly more bearable as the night goes on, by which Eddie means he’s able to talk to him normally, but he still can’t stop staring at him or his vest or the stretch of ankle that’s visible when Steve crosses his legs.
He feels like one of the guys in Victorian England. It’s fucking ridiculous.
If Steve is aware of Eddie’s dilemma, he doesn’t let on. Nancy and Robin, however… Well, they’ve been whispering and giggling to each other all night, which wouldn’t be incriminating if it wasn’t for the fact that they keep looking between him and Steve and wiggling their eyebrows.
And then… Well, and then there’s the matter of Max Mayfield, who has always been too perceptive for her own good.
He’s felt her eyes on him all night, her piercing gaze boring into his skull, but it isn’t until Jonathan and Argyle are tackling the dishes, Joyce and Will are putting the finishing touches on the cake, and Steve is once again arguing with Dustin over whether or not a sixteen year old should be allowed to have a beer that she makes her move.
She slides into his armchair right next to him, apparently uncaring of the fact that it is not meant for two people, and says matter of factly, “Stop being gross about Steve.”
“Hello to you too, Red. So nice to finally speak to you this evening. I’m doing well, how are you?”
“I’m sick of seeing you ogle my babysitter. It’s weird.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he tries, though it’s pointless. She has his number.
“Please, you’re so obvious. Just kiss him or something already so you can stop being like this.”
He has to laugh at that. If he and Steve were actually together, and he could ogle him whenever he wanted— well, he’d never stop. “You’re funny, Red. If you think that would make me any better, you’ve got another thing coming.”
She raises an eyebrow. “So you’re going to make a move?”
He gives her an exaggerated sigh. “Why can’t people just leave me alone about this for five seconds? Fine. Yes! Maybe! I don’t know!”
“Okay, I get it. You don’t have to get all agitated,” she rolls her eyes. “Anyways, can you at least go outside and compose yourself before cake or something? The pining rolling off of you is stifling.”
“Yeah yeah, whatever, Red.”
She stands, but pauses before she walks away. “Look, I’m sorry everyone’s been nagging. We just…”
“Yeah,” he smiles softly at her, the slight worry at the corner of her mouth saying more than words ever could. “I know, Max. You just want us to be happy. It’s all good.”
“Cool. I’m just gonna…” she jabs a thumb over her shoulder, and he waves her off.
He sits there for another minute, then mutters, “Fuck it,” to himself and gets up to go outside.
The night air is comfortable, with it being that time of year in between the hot summer nights and the brisk fall nights, and he takes a deep breath. Maybe, he thinks as he pulls out a cigarette and his lighter, Red was onto something. Already, it’s easier to think about things other than Steve’s argyle vest or his ankles.
Like Steve’s smile as he teased Dustin. Or the sound of his laugh after Robin made a dumb joke. Or how he got a drink for Eddie before he even walked into the cabin, as if he’d seen Eddie and Nancy approaching and wanted an excuse to greet him.
“Fuck,” he sighs, tilting his head back to blow out a narrow stream of smoke.
He’s hopeless.
Behind him, the door opens, laughter from inside momentarily swelling before getting muffled behind the door again.
Eddie doesn’t bother looking to see who it was— there’s only one person it could be, only one person who would actually lean on the rail next to him instead of just calling him inside.
“Hey,” Steve says quietly.
“Hey,” Eddie says back, offering his pack of cigarettes to Steve. “Did Red send you out here?”
“Max?” Steve asks, surprise making him pause with his fingers just brushing against Eddie’s as he accepts one of them. “No. Why would she?”
“No reason. I just thought… Eh. It doesn’t matter.”
“Is something wrong? You’ve been off all night.”
Eddie just smiles wryly, glancing at him sideways. “Nah, I’m okay. Just got a lot on my mind, you know?”
“Not really. I’ve been told by multiple sources that I don’t think.”
“Was it Henderson? You know you can’t trust a word he says.”
Steve laughs, dipping his chin slightly so that the porch light reflects off his jaw line in a way that leaves Eddie momentarily breathless. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, big boy,” he says faintly, unable to tear his eyes away from Steve.
He knows he’s staring, that he really should look away before Steve notices. But somehow, out here where it’s just the two of them and the crickets and the muffled sounds of the party, it’s impossible to do so. He can’t do anything but watch as Steve tucks the cigarette between his lips and lights it carefully, as he tilts his head back, as his throat bobs, as the porch light highlights the strong line of his nose and the purse of his lips and the length of his eyelashes.
It feels, Eddie thinks as he watches Steve exhale a cloud of smoke, like they are the only people in the world.
Which is ridiculous, because there’s a door just a few feet away and on the other side of it is an entire group of their friends and family, and all of them know that there’s not just their world but also another one right below their own.
But Steve and Eddie are out here instead of inside with them, and Eddie’s cigarette is burning away in his fingers but he doesn’t even care because he can’t stop staring, and something about the moment feels big and momentous and like they’re on the precipice of something.
As if he heard Eddie’s thoughts, Steve turns his head to look at him, and he doesn’t even look surprised to find Eddie staring at him. He just… smiles slightly and says, “You’ve been staring at me all night.”
Eddie blinks. Thinks about denying it. Remembers that feeling of being on the precipice. Exhales. Decides to jump off the cliff. “Yeah.”
Steve nods, eyes searching Eddie’s face. Whatever he finds— and it’s probably too much, because Eddie’s always been too expressive for his own good— makes his lips twitch upwards and a small laugh escape through his nose. “Is it my hair? I used less Farrah Fawcett spray than normal.”
And that weird tension that Eddie has been feeling, that strange tightness in his chest that was making breathing hard, suddenly releases with the reminder that… This is still just Steve.
Steve, who Eddie is helplessly in love with and shuts Eddie’s brain down with little more than an argyle sweater vest and his ankles and a cigarette, but who also makes dumb jokes and refuses to let Dustin have a beer and follows Eddie outside at a party to make sure he’s alright.
He’s still just Steve, who is an enigma, and Eddie wants to kiss him so bad.
“Jesus, man,” Eddie laughs shakily, raking a hand through his hair. “How do you do that?”
“Wha—”
“I mean, how do you stand there looking like that— all tucked away in your sweater vest and with your ankles poking out— and making these stupid jokes, and make me want to kiss you? I mean, it’s like you’re not even trying, and I’m losing my shit over here.”
“Oh,” is all Steve says, looking down at himself as if seeing himself for the first time. He’s quiet for a moment, then looks back up at Eddie with a raised eyebrow. “Really? The sweater vest does it for you?”
“I don’t know, I guess I have a thing for vests,” he shoots back, thinking of Steve in his denim vest (which he’s still never gotten back). Steve must be thinking the same, because he laughs slightly, and before he can chicken out, Eddie adds, “Or maybe I just have a thing for you.”
Steve’s cheeks go a very satisfying shade of red, and Eddie grins; he’s been wrongfooted and flustered all night. It’s nice to finally get some revenge.
“You do?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Eddie grins, stubbing out his cigarette and turning his body so that he’s facing Steve fully. “Is that okay, pretty boy?”
Steve’s lips twitch again, as if he’s trying to fight a smile but can’t quite keep it down, and he stubs out his own cigarette, too. “Uh, yeah,” he says finally, clearing his throat when his voice comes out strained. “Yeah, that would be okay. I, uh, I have a thing for you too.”
Eddie laughs, unable to help himself when faced with a flustered Steve Harrington. “Wow.”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. I just thought you were supposed to be smooth, Harrington.”
He rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling so Eddie knows he isn’t really mad. “I usually am! You just… Surprised me, is all. A lot about you surprises me.”
“Oh really,” Eddie grins, swaying closer to Steve. “Like what?”
“Well for one, I’m surprised you laugh at my jokes. No one does that.”
“That’s because your jokes are terrible, Steve. In a charming sort of way. What else?”
“You played a song for me at your concert, which no one has ever done for me before. I wasn’t expecting that one.”
“Nancy was about ready to kill me for that, but it was worth it to see your blush,” he says with a wink. “Any other surprises?”
Steve laughs slightly. “Every time I think I have you figured out, I learn something new about you. Like your secret affinity for show tunes—”
“I told you that in confidence, you asshole!” Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve, who just grins even wider.
“—or how you eat breakfast before you brush your teeth—”
“Why would you brush your teeth just to go and eat food and make your breath all gross again?”
“—or how you have a thing for me in argyle sweater vests.”
“I told you, I have a thing for you in general.”
“Ah, but that’s not surprising, I’ve known about that for a while,” Steve smirks.
Eddie’s jaw drops, and he whacks Steve in the chest. “You knew? And you didn’t do anything? Why not!”
Steve shrugs nonchalantly, but Eddie is vindicated by the soft pink blush dusting his cheeks. “I guess I was just… Waiting for the right moment.”
Suddenly, the air between them is stretched thin and tense again, and Eddie clicks his tongue quietly. “So is this it, or…?”
“Well, that depends on if you want to kiss me in this sweater vest or not.”
Eddie’s hands fly up and grasp the vest before he even knows he’s moving, and with his eyes fixed on Steve’s he says seriously, “Steve, I have been thinking about kissing you all night. You better fucking kiss me.”
Then, before Steve can say anything, Eddie hauls him close and presses their lips together. Steve goes willingly, stepping in close and grabbing Eddie by the hips, and—
And Eddie thinks he might be dying.
He’s thought about kissing Steve Harrington a lot, far more than he maybe should have, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it. Nothing could have prepared him for the way Steve would taste like cigarette smoke, beer, and vanilla chapstick, or the way his hands would be so warm and steady on Eddie’s hips, or the way it would be firm and gentle and demanding all at once.
Steve kisses him with an intensity that steals Eddie’s breath right out of his lungs, with an eagerness that has Eddie wondering how long Steve has wanted this, with a single minded focus that makes Eddie feel like they’re the only people in the world for the second time that night.
The only thing that matters is Steve and Steve’s hands on him and Steve’s chest pressed against his and Steve’s lips warm against his, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until he’s lightheaded and gasping for air.
He pulls away reluctantly, trying futilely to replace the breath that Steve stole from him while Steve turns his attention to kissing his way down Eddie’s jaw.
“Jesus,” he laughs breathlessly. “The rumors were true, Steve Harrington really can kiss.”
“Just wait until I take you to Skull Rock,” Steve mutters against his neck, and Eddie thinks it’s a miracle his knees don’t buckle with that promise.
“Jesus,” he repeats, untangling his hands from where they’re still knotted in Steve’s vest to go up to his hair, finally , finally mussing it the way he had wanted to all night. “You, Steve Harrington, are going to be the death of me. But what a damn way to go.”
Steve laughs, pulling back enough that Eddie can see that his eyes are crinkled up, and Eddie is helpless to do anything but tug him in for another kiss.
They’re quieter when they break apart this time, just holding each other close as they try to calm their pounding hearts, and Eddie wants to live in this moment forever.
Through the door, Eddie hears the last few notes of Happy Birthday, followed by cheers and laughter, and he snorts. Of course they were so wrapped up in each other that they missed singing and cake.
“What?” Steve asks quietly, pulling his head away from where it had been resting on Eddie’s shoulder.
“I think we’re missing cake… Nancy will never let us live this down.”
“Huh… I really don’t care.” Steve knocks his forehead against Eddie’s gently, smiling mischievously. “I have something sweeter right here.”
Eddie pulls away to stare at him incredulously for a long moment, before he finally breaks down into laughter. “Really? Fuck, that was awful, Steve! I mean, really really terrible.”
“And yet you have a thing for me,” Steve points out, looking so smug and pleased with himself that Eddie just has to kiss him again.
“Jesus help me, I really do,” he sighs. “Bad jokes and argyle sweater vests and all, I totally do.”