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“Well, Steve, maybe you should use your fucking brain for once.” Eddie spat from across the living room, still standing in the doorway. “Because you’re acting pretty fucking stupid right now.”
Eddie’s arms were crossed over his chest and one foot was rapidly tapping on the cheap rug that ran the length of the small front hall. Steve stayed frozen on the couch, rumpled up in a pair of boxers and Eddie’s old bathrobe he bought when they moved into their first place. He eyed his boyfriend, who stumbled back half a step before catching himself.
“Are you high?” He asked, squinting.
“Oh shut up, Steve, ask what you want to ask.” He finally stomped into the house, abruptly tossing his wallet and keys towards the couch next to Steve. Steve couldn’t pull his eyes from the door as Eddie trudged past him, even as he heard the clinking of glass from the kitchen and the distinct ftssk of a bottle cap being popped off. He blinked, for what felt like the first time in years.
“I just-” His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again, “I just wanted to know where you were, Eds.” Steve spoke slowly, scared any type of fast movement or speech would force out the tears he was desperately holding back. But his eyes were burning and Eddie liked to get mean with his words when they fought like this, dirty. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, Steve could only describe it as a verbal lashing.
All the way from the kitchen, Eddie's bellowing laughter hurt Steve's ears. “And that would be housewife code for ‘whose dick were you out sucking?’ isn’t that right, baby?”
That had Steve swallowing down a thick lump in his throat. He was looking for jobs, no one was fucking hiring. It’s not his fault that the middle school basketball team he was coaching was facing the consequences of an awful and unfair budget cut.
“Eddie.” Was all Steve could muster up as Eddie made his way back to the front of the house and rounded the couch in socked feet. The socks that Steve had gotten him on his last trip to visit Max and Lucas in San Francisco. They had little drawings of sea lions on them, and Steve thought they would make Eddie laugh. He bit his lip and finally looked back up at his boyfriend who loomed over him.
Eddie’s arms were crossed again, only this time he had a beer in one while he ran his eyes over Steve, analyzing him. Getting ready for his next strike.
“What.” He was glaring through Steve, through the couch, probably through the back fucking wall of the house.
But Steve kept his mouth shut and eyes on Eddie’s face while he picked at the skin of his nail bed, a nasty habit Eddie would normally scold him for doing.
How the fuck had this happened.
Steve thought back to this morning, waking up slow and lazy and sleepy and so many kisses on Steve’s face that he lost count after they passed the thirties.. Eddie had made him breakfast. They ate on their back porch and drank coffee. It was a typical Saturday for them. Eddie didn’t have any gigs the night before or that night nor did he have any work to do at the shop and why would Steve have anything planned, seeing as how he ran out of jobs to apply to for the week? It was the perfect lazy day for them.
Even if Eddie got invited out by his bandmates or coworkers later, Steve wouldn’t have cared, because he got Eddie all to himself the entire day and he was who Eddie would always be coming home to.
So when Eddie had gotten invited out to go drinking with some of the guys from the band and adjacent friends, Eddie was a little confused as to why Steve was mad.
“I’m not mad, Eds.” He scoffed jokingly (or hoped it came off that way.)
(it didn’t.)
Eddie watched him work around their bedroom while he put away clean boxers and jeans, the laundry basket digging into his left hip.
“Then why did you say oh when I said Matt was the one who invited me?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the frame of their bedroom door.
“I didn’t say oh like that.” He defended, putting an end to the laundry and turning to face Eddie with a snap of his hips.
And Eddie laughed, had to, because Steve looked terribly adorable in an old Hawkins Swim Team shirt and a beat-up pair of Eddie’s gym shorts. But still, why was Steve so peeved about this? Matt was a good guy. Eddie had only known him a little less than a year, but he was best friends with their drummer and owned the bar they frequently played at.
“You definitely did.”
Steve rolled his eyes and tossed the basket on the bed before he made his way over to Eddie. “I don’t think he likes me.” He said it quickly, but not in any way that couldn’t be taken as a mistake.
Eddie scoffed, because why would anyone not like his perfect boyfriend? “You’re being a brat Harrington, the world doesn’t revolve around you anymore.” He quipped back, maybe with more snark than intended.
And maybe that’s what started the downfall of their entire evening. One stupid comment managed to derail a very normal conversation into an explosive one.
Amid Eddie, I don’t like the way he looks at you, and Christ, do you think I’m gonna sleep with him; they ended up down in the kitchen- Eddie had his leather jacket on and was lacing up his boots by the front door.
Steve stood back silently, arms down at his side. “I thought we were gonna watch The Goonies tonight?” he had asked so quietly. He didn’t remember what Eddie had said as he rushed his way out of the house. He could have sworn he’d heard Nancy’s name, but surely he must have misheard.
And now, here they were, almost eight hours later, the same heat soaking Eddie’s words.
“Fucking spit it out, Harrington.” Eddie snapped and gulped down his beer, finishing it off in three final glugs.
“I don’t really know what you want me to say, Eddie.” The back of his throat felt like it was on fire like the hurt was clawing its way out from his chest and settling behind his eyes.
“ Bullshit .”
The venom was layered on thick, because Eddie was smart and Eddie knew what got to Steve and Eddie could also be really fucking mean. “Say what you’re really thinking. Stop playing dumb Steve.” He crossed the room and sat back in the second-hand recliner Joyce and Hop had given them, getting comfortable in the worn-out leather.
He waited for a moment, looking at Steve like he was a petulant child in need of a scolding. “You think I went out and hooked up with Matt.” Then he fucking smiled, like he thought he was right.
Steve couldn’t hold back the tears that slid their way slowly down his cheeks, didn’t even try to. He sniffled, wiped his eyes, and stood up. He could feel Eddie watching his every move as he walked towards the hallway. Eddie stayed quiet, the creaking of the floorboards sharp and uncomfortable to his ears.
“I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight.” Steve had one hand rested on his hip while the other ran through his hair, a little more wild than usual, Eddie took notice.
He sat there, by himself, in the heavy silence of the living room. Steve turned silently and padded down the hall to the spare room at the back of the house that held Eddie’s old uncomfortable mattress, the one Steve hated sleeping on. Eddie let the quiet settle around him for a while longer before stomping out to the back porch to smoke.
Steve silently climbed into the bed that smelled nothing like he and Eddie, and immediately began to stifle harsh sobs into the heel of his palm. His view of Eddie's silhouette from the window was blurred by tears, and Steve cried himself to sleep for the first time in years. He tired himself out before Eddie even came back in the house.
~~~
Eddie woke up to the sun burning his eyes behind his eyelids and a pounding headache that was comparable to fucking something, but Eddie really couldn’t form a thought passed the drilling in his skull. His throat burned from the half a pack of cigarettes he had smoked once he got home and his nose was stuffed from the blow he and the guys did at the bar. This was going to be at least a two-day hangover.
He turned his head, burying his face into a pillow. Steve’s pillow from what his nose informed him. Now if that didn’t help dull the pain just a smidge. Then Eddie let an arm crawl out across the mattress, slowly, hoping to find the sleep-warm body of his boyfriend.
But there was nothing for him to reach out to. His eyes shot open, the burning sun flooding his vision to only make the pounding in his head come throbbing back full force.
He groaned. Of course, Steve wouldn’t be here. Eddie scrubbed a rough hand over his face, letting the pads of his fingers dig into his eyes with the perfect amount of pressure to slightly subdue the migraine and give his brain a second to think.
Steve had said he was going to sleep in the guest room last night. Steve said that because Eddie came home high. He said it because Eddie came home high, at 3 in the fucking morning, after walking out of the house mid-argument.
Eddie threw his body into the bed and groaned again, mumbling a few exploitatives at himself before slowly getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom. In the dark, he stripped off the jeans he fell asleep in, like shedding a second skin, and stumbled into the shower with the water as hot as it could go. The scalding water poured down his scalp and pelted his back, small streams of black and gray mixing in from the day-old makeup.
After a few minutes of soaking steam into his bones, Eddie finally looked back on the night's events and why he turned into something akin to his father. Cruel, unrelenting, and always great at pulling at the smallest of threads to unravel even the toughest of men.
Eddie smacked his head against the tile, finding himself fully deserving of the splitting pain that shot not only through his skull but also straight to his heart. He was just fucking angry that Steve didn’t like Matt. It’s okay to be annoyed over something petty like that because Eddie sure as fuck didn’t like Nancy when the two men first got together. He was bitter over the way Steve was left in the dust; hurt, and convinced he was unlovable.
And Eddie had to go spew some bullshit, like literally had the gall to call Steve bullshit. Low fucking blow, Munson.
To be honest, Eddie was planning on going to the bar to cool off, have a beer or two with the boys and then head straight back home to Stevie and curl up on the couch. What he was not expecting was for Matt to have a little baggie of white powder and a ‘ How could I hate that guy!’ attitude. So, yeah, maybe Eddie felt a little cocky, puffed his chest out a bit too far then followed Matt into the bathroom of the bar. It only happened two or three more times throughout the course of several beers and the next thing Eddie knew, it was last call and Matt had a major change of attitude.
He was a little too close for Eddie’s liking, slumped together in a pair of barstools. He could feel the sweat gathering underneath Matt’s arm on his own shoulder as the other man leaned in close enough for his lips to brush the hair around Eddie’s ear.
“Y’know, I was totally bullshittin earlier.” And that caught Eddie by surprise because all the two had talked about for the majority of the night was music. Was he lying about liking some band they have discussed?
Eddie scrunched his eyebrows down, extra confused from the falling high of the coke and the strum of beer in his system, “Huh?”
Matt threw his head back and laughed, shoulders shaking like he couldn’t help himself. Like Eddie was the funniest person he’d ever talked with. This confused Eddie further.
“I just can’t believe someone as sexy as you got caught up with some washed up jock. I guess it’s nice to come home to a nice ass every night, but it can’t be easy knowing he can’t hold down a job.” He was still laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“What the fuck?” Eddie had ripped himself out from under Matt's arm and stumbled out of the bar stool.
Oh, right .
Steve had been 1000% correct in the fact that Matt was kind of a douchebag. And Eddie had been punched with a disgusting amount of guilt to the chest right there in the shower. Steve had been right and Eddie came home at 3 am and sniped some harsh words his way because Steve was fucking right and Eddie was wrong and he was mad at himself for questioning his boyfriend.
His boyfriend, who had definitely waited up in the living room to make sure he came home safe because Steve fucking loves him.
“Fuck. Fuck-fucking, Christ.” Eddie cursed at himself continuously; getting out of the shower, drying his hair, getting dressed, and then quietly as he shuffled his way towards the guest room. He bit his lip as his hand hovered over the door knob before moving to knock instead but hesitated when he heard Steve crying. Not those big blubbery tears though. No, they were the after effects, the ending tears you thought you’d dried up, all breathy and shaky.
For the third time that morning, Eddie purposefully smacked his head on something, this time opting to be useful about it and let Steve know he was there. His forehead was still pressed to the cool wood door when he spoke up.
“Hey.” He cleared his throat before continuing, hoping to sound a little more put together, “Can I come in?”
He heard the shuffling of the bedspread, the sniffing of a nose and the tiniest, “Yeah.”
Steve was an absolute mess when Eddie walked in. He’d woken up several times throughout the night from the lack of his boyfriend sleeping next to him, keeping Steve pressed close to make sure he feels safe. His eyes were raw and puffy from crying and rubbing his hands at them to keep the tears at bay. His entire face was just as puffy and his hair looked even worse than it had when Eddie stumbled into the house last night (earlier that morning?).
The sheets billowed out around his waist as he kept his head down towards his hands resting in his lap. Eddie could see him biting at his lip, a habit of Steve’s when he didn't know what to do or say. Not that Steve should be the one doing anything right now. Eddie’s the one who messed up.
“How’d you sleep?” It was a cop-out, an easy way into the conversation because Eddie already knew the answer.
“Bad.” Steve stole a quick look at Eddie, who was pressed up against the door.
“You coulda slept in our room.” He offered, weakly, again already knowing the answer.
Steve didn’t verbally respond, but Eddie could see how tense his back got at the thought. One of his hands found its way to the back of his head to rub at his neck. He was quiet for a few more minutes as Eddie stayed stuck to the door, too scared to scale the walls Steve put up around himself.
“Are we okay?” Steve asked the question that’d been rattling around his brain all night, voice cracking as a tear slipped down his left cheek.
That had Eddie moving, crossing the small room in an instant to settle himself in front of the smaller man in front of him. He desperately wanted to reach out and hold Steve, run his fingers through his hair, and pretend like last night never happened.
“ Oh , baby . I’m sorry.” He whispered as a hand hovered above Steve’s knee, waiting for any signal from Steve that he didn’t want to be touched.
“You were so mean yesterday, Eds.” Steve finally looked at Eddie as fat hot tears poured down his face again. “What- did I do something? I don’t-I don’t hate Matt if that’s what that was about. I’m sorry if I made you think I did.” He hiccuped through the words, reaching his hands up to rub at his eyes more.
Eddie pulled them away gently, knowing it'd only agitate his eyes more in the end. He kept one hand lightly around Steve’s wrist while the other moved to lock fingers with Steve’s free hand. He brought their clasped hands to his lips and gingerly kissed each of Steve’s knuckles.
“Love, you have nothing to apologize for.” The words left Eddie in a single breath, so tired and upset at himself for pushing Steve to this point. For making him think he was at fault when all Eddie did was be a dick.
Steve’s grip on his hand was tight enough that Eddie thought it was the only thing keeping Steve tethered to the earth. He let himself crumble into Eddie’s broad chest, so warm and comfortable and exactly what he’d needed last night to sleep. He let himself sob into Eddie, tears and snot mixing and darkening the light shirt he had slept in. Eddie just rubbed his back through the tiny tremors he felt as he began to catch his breath again.
“I should be apologizing, Steve. You had every right to be upset with Matt. Especially because you were right and he is a total scumbag.” He straightened up to get a better look at Steve, using a hand to tuck a loose strand of shaggy brown hair back into place.
“You were right, and I was mad at myself for not seeing it.” Steve snapped his neck to angle it back to meet Eddie’s eyes, sniffing and blinking back the last few tears.
“Did he do something?” He asked, frowning.
Eddie was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to land a man who still has the semblance to get mad at someone for his boyfriend whom he is currently also mad at.
“Not important right now, Stevie.” He supplied and placed the quickest kiss on the crown of the other man's head. “I just need you to know that what I said last night was so out of pocket, man, and that I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me Steve, but I get it if you want some space.”
Eddie smiled down at Steve like it was hurting him, which made Steve’s frown grow.
“You wanna break up?”
“No! Oh god no!” Eddie’s eyes widened. He resituated their positions on the bed so he could look fully into Steve’s eyes, his calloused hands holding Steve’s face like it could break if moved too quickly.
“I’m here for the long haul, Harrington. As long as you’ll have me.” Steve could feel the warmth in Eddie’s smile.
“Last night was just.. well you know.” Eddie looked at the wall, traced the ugly patterns in the wallpaper, “I- my old man would get like that. So sometimes when I’m angry..” Eddie trailed off. Steve watched his line of sight as it made its way down to the wood flooring.
Eddie bit his lip and looked back to the man in his arms, “It’s not an excuse. Just the truth, and I’m sorry.”
Steve held his gaze, one hand moving to hold Eddie’s face. “It’s not okay, what you said. Or what you did.” Steve spoke slowly, but kept his sight heavily on Eddie’s the entire time, “I was just worried once it hit midnight and you hadn’t come home.”
Fuck .
Steve wiped at the stray tear that fell down Eddie’s face, catching it just at the cheekboke. “I am so so sorry, Stevie.”
Steve balled Eddie up into his arms and rocked the two of them on the spare bed in their guest room for the next hour, while Eddie cried apologies into his shoulders, neck, hair, lips; anywhere Eddie could get his hands on. They sat pressed together on the bed long enough for both of their tears to run dry and their breathing to even out. Eddie uncurled himself from Steve at some point and moved to lay them both down on the bed as the sun began to fill the room with more light. Steve followed sluggishly, crawling after the lankier man and tucking himself deep into the space under Eddie’s arm and on his chest. He shimmied an arm under the weight of his boyfriend and kept a tight grip on the back of his shirt.
When Eddie finally spoke up again, his voice was hoarse, “I was really fucking mad at myself, Stevie.” He whispered into Steve’s messy hair and placed a kiss there.
“Still am. For what I said, for how I acted. God, you mean the world to me Steve, and I really just tried to throw that all away last night.”
Steve tried his best to cock his head back and look at Eddie, who had his eyes glued on the blank wall across from them. Steve knew where Eddie was going with this, had been told stories by Wayne about how his brother-in-law would go out of his way to ridicule his son. How Eddie wouldn’t be able to make a single movement in his home without being questioned and second-guessed and belittled the entire time. How Eddie has picked the habit up, how he’d tossed cruel words his Uncle’s way when things weren’t looking too good for the tiny metal head. How he’d always be quick to throw a barbed wire fence around his feelings when things seemed rocky.
“You’re not like your dad, Eds. You have to know that.” Steve supplied quietly, whispering the words into Eddie’s collarbone, above his heart. Maybe if Steve said the words enough they could sink through the layers of skin and muscle and settle softly in Eddie’s chest, live there until the end of time as a reminder that Eddie Munson is his own person.
But Eddie scoffed bitterly at the idea, “I don’t know, Stevie I-”
“No, Eddie.” Steve cut him off and struggled to get his weight on his arms to look down at the man below him. “Yeah, you said some mean fucking shit, Eddie. But here you are, apologizing. You feel bad about it. You want to fix it. You’re trying to fix it.” He spoke so slowly and softly, hoping the words would stay put in Eddie’s head rather than go in one ear, bounce around for a second and leave out the other.
“I’m still upset. Kinda sad more than anything, but…” He trailed off and leaned back down on top of Eddie, pressing all his weight on top of the other man, “I’d rather be with you and upset than alone and upset, so.”
He shimmied closer, like he could force his way to fuse his body and soul and consciousness with the other man. Like being anywhere than right next to him would be a fate worse than death. He felt Eddie’s arms tighten around him, like he had the same intentions. To become one with the ball of sunshine he was lucky enough to come home to. Lucky enough to call him home.