Chapter Text
Eddie’s second go at senior year starts with an unexpected bang.
School has been back for a total of two whole hours when he starts hearing the whispers. Eddie’s mood isn’t the best, but he’s still a curious little shit underneath the doom and gloom of having to redo senior year, and it’s a lot easier to focus on anything else than his own misery.
It’s not hard to discover what’s gotten the entire school in a tizzy, that’s the thing. When third period rolls around, the news of Steve Harrington’s presentation — and breakup with former girlfriend Nancy Wheeler — has spread like wildfire across the halls.
Of course. Of course golden boy jock Steve Harrington is an omega.
Not only is it rare as fuck for a guy to present omega, but it’s also obvious everyone had been expecting different, the way people say it like it’s a punchline, or a tragedy, or a fascinating occurrence. A male omega. Eddie is well-versed in being called a freak for his own preference for boys, regardless of their secondary gender, but it’s still a surprise to see everyone treat a dude’s presentation as something to mourn over. Even the fucking teachers are whispering about it, which honestly might be the worst part. He passes the guidance office on the way to lunch and hears the same topics his fellow classmates had been going on about, only it’s a lot worse coming from them. The vicious part of him wants to grin and call it comeuppance, wants to gloat at how even the most privileged aren’t safe from being treated like outcasts if they ever step a toe out of line, but even in his mind, the words taste sour. Eddie has enough firsthand knowledge of how petty and mean some of the teachers can be to ever truly rejoice in it.
By lunch, Hawkins’ court looks… off. The jocks still orbit Harrington, but there’s space where there never used to be.
Harrington looks like he’s bracing for something, his shoulders tight and smile fixed in place, eyes darting around but never quite landing anywhere. He’s always been a bit of an airhead, but the way he looks kinda reminds Eddie of his sheepies, that first day when they sit in at Hellfire and look like they’re waiting for someone to tell them the rules, and it’s fucking odd to see that same helplessness in the face of someone who reigned over their school even before he was a senior.
But that’s the thing, Eddie realizes, chewing on a limp fry and watching from across the cafeteria. No one knows what to do with Harrington now. He’s gone from popular-untouchable to… whatever the heck this is in the span of a single morning. People talk around him, like his designation has turned him into glass instead of the asshole rich boy currently holding the record for the longest keg stand in their school.
It’s fucking weird.
If it had to happen to someone, it figures it’d be Steve Harrington. Poster child, king of all sports, Hawkins High collective imaginary boyfriend.
Serves him right, Eddie thinks, mean and automatic, and pulls his gaze away to focus back on his lunch. He’s got better things to do than waste his time on a popular asshole.
(He hates that he envies Harrington a little bit. If Eddie had presented omega, no one would have ever called him a freak for getting caught under the bleachers with an alpha in his freshman year. It’s hard not to begrudge Harrington for getting everything Eddie has always told himself he didn’t want handled on a silver platter.)
Despite his lack of interest in the topic, Eddie hears more than one person mutter that Harrington should probably quit basketball for his own good. A teacher calls Harrington sweetheart and Eddie doesn’t know who looks more mortified, Ms. O’Donnel or Harrington himself. A junior alpha has the gall to ask him if he is gonna start nesting in his locker, and Eddie watches Harrington push him against a locker before walking away, shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor — when before Harrington wouldn’t have had the need to dirty his hands, the entire basketball team at his beck and call to defend the honor of their King.
Eddie watches from the sidelines as no one lifts a single finger. Carol Perkins opens her mouth but doesn't say anything, and Tommy Hagan trails behind her, both of them disappearing into a classroom.
The royalty trifecta is a mess, and the cracks reverberate through the school, pulling tight at the social fabric that holds all the bullshit together — and Eddie always thought he would be the one to tug on the thread, would be smiling as chaos settled in, but he only feels himself grow tense for some reason. Anger has been simmering under his skin for months now, ever since Higgins had called Wayne to tell him the joyous news that Eddie would not graduate, low heat covering the shame and helplessness inside his chest, but this feels different.
As the week goes by, Eddie’s eyes keep following Harrington as he passes by the classroom door, flanked by two teachers, head hung low as they talk at him. Apparently, Harrington’s parents forgot to sign some stupid slip that would allow him to keep playing — basketball? Baseball? Eddie has no clue — and the P.E. teacher had been absolutely beside himself trying to get a hold of them during gym class as to not lose their star player.
As far as Eddie knows, the girl alphas — few as they are — never had to drop out of cheerleading, so this sounds like a fat load of bullshit to him. Someone’s presentation should not have this much impact, the rarity of a male omega be damned.
And then… an idea hits him, fully formed and completely stupid.
If Hawkins wants to stare, Eddie could give them something to watch. They had, after all, never shied away from making sure he understood exactly why his things were getting messed with, his head pushed into a toilet, names thrown his way until he started fighting back with sharp teeth. It’s only fair that he shows them he understood the message, right?
(He doesn’t feel sorry for Harrington.)
By the time the last bell rings, he has a plan.
The next morning, Eddie is early for school for the first time in years.
The parking lot isn’t too busy, and Harrington’s fancy car shines like a beacon under the morning sun, so there’s nothing stopping Eddie from putting things in motion. He shakes his hands to dispel the jitters he’s feeling, wishing there was time to smoke a quick one, but he can’t miss his window. In his brain, the encounter unfolds in front of his eyes, and he pictures a little D20 spinning in place as he mentally rolls for initiative.
His plan isn’t subtle, that’s the thing. Eddie Munson has never once in his life done anything subtly, but he hopes Harrington finds it in his little jock self to play along, if only for a bit.
Eddie catches Harrington at his locker before first period, swooping in like he belongs there — which, judging by the way half the hallway freezes mid-step, he clearly does not. It’s a bit more attention than he had expected right off the gate, but he’s used to rolling with the punches.
He’s fine. He can do this.
His heart beats wildly in his chest and he tries his best to keep his scent in check. No reason to spook a newly-presented omega with his nerves. Despite his personal opinion on Harrington himself, Wayne had raised Eddie better than that.
“Harrington,” Eddie says, bright and cheerful, leaning one elbow against the locker next to Harrington and boxing him in just enough to be noticeable. “Morning, my liege.”
Harrington startles. His head snaps up, eyes wide for half a second before he schools his face back into something polite and careful, which is… new. Harrington has never once looked like this in the years they’ve shared the halls of this place and Eddie almost misses the slightly dazed, airy little look Harrington used to sport before this whole omega thing.
“Munson?”
“Oh my, you remember little ol’ me. I’m flattered, your Highness.”
People are staring. Eddie can feel it like static on his skin — alphas pausing, omegas pretending not to look, betas doing that weird tight-lipped thing they do when something interesting is happening but they don’t want to get involved. Harrington notices it too, shoulders going tense under his awful polo, but he doesn’t comment on it, nose held high like the preppy little thing he is.
Feigning the same indifference, Eddie leans closer and gets a whiff of Harrington’s scent, fraught with nerves, and finds himself saying in a softer tone, “You good?”
Caught off-guard, Harrington blinks at him once, twice. Eddie had never noticed it before, but his eyes are hazel, not brown. He’s got a lot of moles scattered across his face, but Eddie finds himself stuck on the one just under his left eye, even as Harrington leans away.
“I’m — yeah,” he says, and then, quieter, “I think I am.”
“Cool,” Eddie agrees easily. “Then you won’t mind me walking you to class.”
“What?”
Eddie straightens, slings an arm around Harrington’s shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and steers him away from the lockers before Harrington can finish protesting.
That’s when the whispers explode. Oh, how utterly predictable Hawkins High is.
He hears the noise crest behind them as they walk, like a cloud of angry bees after their hive has been shaken up. It’s a fact, now, that Eddie Munson, resident freak drug-dealing alpha, is very publicly hanging around newly presented omega Steve Harrington. Alpha and omega, the perfect cookie-cutter combo the normies love to call a perfect match.
Harrington stiffens for exactly three steps before he exhales, long and shaky, and bats Eddie’s hand away, clutching at the strap of his backpack. It’s still a win in Eddie’s book, especially when he’s hit with a whiff of Harrington’s scent, stronger this time. It’s vanilla-sweet like most omegas, but with an undertone of something citrusy, those fruits that ripen during summer; he can’t quite pinpoint what it is exactly, but it isn’t bad. It’s a nice scent. A laugh bubbles up his throat at the unfairness of the universe for not only choosing Steve Harrington to be a male omega, but also letting him have a super pleasant, really fucking nice scent.
“Munson,” Harrington mutters, barely moving his lips. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”
Eddie blinks, pulling away to keep a proper distance between their faces. Fuck, he really did not think this through. The girl omegas’ scent had always been too sweet for him, but Harrington’s scent is kinda intoxicating in a very, very distracting way. “I’m courting you,” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth without his conscious input. “Obviously.”
“You can’t just —”
“Sure, I can, just watch me,” Eddie replies, grinning in a way that takes over his entire face, and hopefully hides how out of his depth he actually is.
He’s starting to regret this a bit, if only because Harrington’s eyes are kinda disarming from this up close. Eddie hadn’t planned it this far. Harrington’s famous hair gives it the impression of him being taller, his broad shoulders all imposing, but like this, Eddie is discovering he’s got an inch or so on him, making every single annoyed look Harrington shoots up his way be softened by the fan of his dark lashes.
Huh.
They make it halfway down the hall before a familiar voice cuts in. “Steve.”
Tommy Hagan looks like he has sucked on a lemon, which is a personal win in Eddie’s book. The beta has his arms crossed over his chest, eyes flickering between Eddie’s arm and Harrington’s shoulder like he’s trying to set Eddie’s hand on fire by sheer will.
Harrington’s body goes visibly tight. No one knows what the fuck happened between the two of them, only that one week Harrington and Hagan had been all buddy-buddy and the next one Harrington had shown up with a black eye and a look of sheer indifference every time he crossed paths with Hagan, sitting instead with now-ex girlfriend Nancy Wheeler and occasionally Jonathan Byers for the rest of the school year.
There had been a single — alleged — screaming match between Perkins and Harrington at Bruce Greene’s New Year’s party, but no one present had been sober enough to spin a cohesive story afterwards, so that’s one more mystery added to Harrington’s Pinocchio tale of becoming a real boy.
Alas. The intricacies of high school royalty might evade Eddie, but the hurt and utter disbelief are crystal clear in Hagan’s face right now. There’s history here between the two of them, tension undeniable in how Harrington’s scent shifts subtly, and Eddie should really make himself scarce, but this is way too good an opportunity to pass on.
He’s no better than the rest of the gossipers hanging on the fringes of the hallway, but at least he’s got somewhat of a role to play here. Harrington had always been a more laid-back type of bully, but Hagan had been getting his hands dirty since he was a stupid freshie, and Eddie is entirely too aware of how… delicate his situation is, caught between the former king and his lapdog. As much as Eddie doesn’t care about social standing or all the stupid shit that goes on at the top of the food chain, he knows Hagan would not hesitate to fuck him up, and Harrington would just need to say the word to push Eddie even further to the sidelines.
Thankfully, it seems that Hagan only has eyes for Harrington. “You really lost yourself, didn’t you? First Wheeler, now Munson.”
“Piss off, Tommy,” Harrington says with an eye roll. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Oh, Stevie, Byers really knocked your screws loose. Shacking up with the freak just because you’re an omega now,” Hagan sneers. “Didn’t know you were dying to take it up the ass, man, but I guess I should’ve known you’d bend over for anyone who’s got a —”
“Hey! That’s enough, man.” Eddie claps his hands, loudly, and when Tommy tries to push him, Eddie bares his teeth, enough that even a beta can tell the challenge for what it is. “Let’s cool our jets, hm? Wouldn’t want to say something we might regret.”
“Shut up, freak. You think you can just — waltz in and claim him like that?”
The alpha in Eddie bristles, but Harrington is faster, squaring up against his ex-best friend with a steely look in his face. “No one is claiming me. What are you, a caveman?” Harrington asks with an eye roll, voice deceptively neutral despite the way his scent is all messed up. “I thought you were done with me. Wasn’t that what Carol said?”
Hagan laughs. “Oh, Stevie, look at you,” he drawls, dragging his gaze up and down Steve’s frame. “Standing up all proud now that you got an alpha to keep you from getting your ass kicked.”
Harrington’s jaw tightens, shoulders going rigid, but he doesn’t step back. Eddie stands his ground too, finding himself angling his body closer to Harrington’s, clearly the lesser of two evils in this scenario.
“C’mon,” Hagan presses, taking a slow step closer, circling like he’s looking for a weak spot — which he will find soon enough. Eddie is more of a taunt-and-run than an actual stand-your-ground brawler. “Munson, really? What’s he gonna do when you start whining for a real alpha, huh?”
Harrington’s hands curl into fists at his sides. He keeps his gaze trained on Hagan, more predator than prey, and Eddie feels a shiver run down his spine. He doesn’t remember King Steve ever looking like this.
“Or is that the point?” Hagan keeps going. “You always did like pretending, Harrington. Playing king, playing boyfriend of the year —” he tilts his head, eyes glittering, “— playing like you weren’t just waiting for someone to put you in your place. Bet that’s what this is, yeah? You couldn’t cut it with Wheeler, so now you’re letting the town freak have his turn because at least he’ll take whatever you give him —”
“Tommy,” Steve bites out, and okay. This is really starting to cross a line, isn’t it?
But Tommy just grins wider. “What? Hit a nerve? Or maybe you’re the one taking whatever you can get now. That it, Stevie? Desperate enough to let him —”
Eddie steps forward until there’s barely any space left between him and Hagan, pushing Harrington back and away from the stupid threat of his ex-best friend. His chest vibrates in a low growl that makes his stomach churn unpleasantly, reminds him of his father, but he doesn’t back off. Hagan’s words carry a lot of the same poison he’s been hearing for years, and not even Harrington deserves to hear the toxic garbage he’s spewing.
“Enough.” Eddie isn’t the type of alpha to pull this kind of shit, but the sight of Tommy Hagan’s moronic face makes him puff up, glaring at the guy who used to steal Ronnie’s lunch money before she presented.
Honestly, fuck Tommy Hagan.
Hagan huffs out a laugh. “Jesus, Munson, you think growling makes you scary?”
“No,” Eddie says evenly, even if he’s screaming a loud yes in his mind. “But I think you’re smart enough to know when to shut your mouth and walk away. Aren’t you, Tommy boy? You said your piece, now move on.”
There’s a long beat, enough time for Harrington to push out from behind Eddie and give Tommy a withering look. Something unspoken passes between them.
With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Hagan stomps away, cursing under his breath like a little bitch, and Eddie’s instincts can finally calm the fuck down now that the perceived threat is gone. Jesus Christ.
Once Hagan turns a corner and disappears from view, Harrington lets out a breath. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says, managing to sound all bitchy about it, and Eddie tilts his head, studying him.
There are faint shadows under his eyes, and his gaze barely stays on Eddie before he’s scanning the halls again, like he’s waiting for the next shoe to drop.
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I did. C’mon, can’t ruin my stellar first-week attendance by being late.”
Harrington mutters under his breath, but they make their way to his classroom without any more problems. Eddie keeps his hands to himself this time, but he lingers at the door. Harrington shoots him an unimpressed glare when he takes a bow, but he doesn’t deck Eddie in the face, so he considers his plan a resounding success.
“You’re not courting me,” Harrington says, lifting a hand when Eddie opens his mouth. “This is just — so weird, Munson, even for you.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Eddie agrees. “Horribly dramatic, too. All part of my brand, baby.”
Harrington rolls his eyes. The first bell rings, but the students still linger outside, watching them. Eddie crowds closer, watching Steve tense as he does so. “Listen,” he says, real for once. “I’m not trying to make your life harder, Harrington.”
Harrington’s mouth twists. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“I just — give it a while, okay? They’ll get bored and we can go back to our little lives, never to be seen together again.”
Harrington cocks his head to the side. “What’s your angle?”
Eddie grins again, but it’s less teeth this time. He hopes Harrington can see that he truly means no harm here. “I get to be a menace, which is always fun,” he says simply. “And — I don’t know, maybe they’ll stop gawking at you like we’re in the zoo. Give ‘em something else to talk about. An alpha courting an omega shouldn’t be this big thing, right?”
Maybe he showed his hand too much here, but Harrington doesn’t look offended. In fact, his gaze lingers on Eddie’s face like he’s being studied, something behind those hazel eyes that Eddie can’t quite name. He feels the urge to run, pulling a piece of hair to hide behind, ignoring Harrington until he looks away.
“You’re still not courting me,” is all Harrington says, turning on his heel and walking inside the classroom, but Eddie figures he’s done his part.
He’s sure the rumor mill will pick up the story. It’s what they’re always after, isn’t it, and Eddie has given them quite the show. As usual, Eddie The Freak has painted a target on his back for daring to court an omega — unheard of! How dare he! — and with such a familiar script to fall back into, maybe now things can go back to normal.
With slightly shaky fingers, he flashes his devil horns and sticks his tongue out at the people still gawking at him, grinning as he takes his sweet time finding the way to his own classroom.
Eddie figures he’s done his civic duty as Local Menace — mission goddamn accomplished, even if the execution had been a bit shaky. When he sees the basketball team closing ranks around Harrington later during lunch, he metaphorically pats his back for a job well done. He can barely see Harrington through the wall of pleated skirts and green jerseys that surround him, so it’s clear he’s been absorbed back into the jock bubble. Harrington is, after all, one of them. Male omega or not, they’d never let him drift for too long.
All is good in the world, and Eddie is back to only having to worry about his nerdy sheep, as it should be.
Steve Harrington goes from handled carefully to actively pursued in the span of the weekend. Alphas who’ve never looked twice at him start hanging around his locker — even the male ones, Eddie can’t help but notice — scents all brash and posturing, while betas get weirdly earnest, offering rides, homework help, jackets when it isn’t even cold, despite the fact that Harrington owns his own letterman jacket and sports it quite frequently. Even some omegas giggle as Harrington passes by them, like the fact that he is a guy suddenly makes it okay to make eyes at a fellow omega.
Eddie tries not to roll his eyes at the display, but it’s a near thing. Most of those same jocks lusting after Harrington are the ones who had called Eddie a faggy cocksucker last year. Familiar anger burns in his chest and makes him want to ask if they realize a male omega still has a dick between his legs, itching to spit back the same venom he has had to deal with since 8th grade.
He doesn’t, though. He knows it’s not worth it.
More shocking than the blatant hypocrisy, though — the thing that really gives Eddie pause, that makes him viciously glad he gave in to his stupid little idea — is how every single person trying to get in Harrington’s pants keeps glancing at Eddie in a blatant challenge, like they refuse to be outdone by the resident freak.
It’s fucking funny if he’s honest with himself. Other than occasionally passing through each other in the hallways and exchanging little nods, Eddie hasn’t made any moves on Harrington, content to watch it all happen from a distance, but it seems like he — Freak trailer trash! Queer alpha! — is a big enough threat to still be a challenge, no matter how he’s putting zero effort in this.
He can’t help but feel smug about it. Not only has Eddie (fake) flirted with a guy in front of the entire school without getting punched in the face for his troubles, Harrington is not being whispered about anymore, and that’s all thanks to Eddie and Eddie’s reputation. The narrative has shifted from what do we do with him? to how do I get him?
Eddie is fucking stellar at toying with people’s expectations. He feels like he just pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, a masterful play that should definitely be accounted for his relentless campaign to run their Halloween oneshot. Ronnie will die when he tells her.