Archive of Our Own ^beta

i.

Steve learns there’s something wrong with his mark when he’s ten. There had been signs before that—uneasy glances traded between his parents, uncomfortable silences at check ups, the unacknowledged ban on movies and books that are too soulmate heavy—but youth provides ignorance and he clings to it even as that first offshoot of discomfort springs up.

Later in life he wonders if everything would have been easier if it hadn’t been such a harsh wake up call but in the here and now he’s ten and he’s playing basketball with Tommy and some of the junior high kids.

They don’t usually let kids his age play with them but he and Tommy are different. They’re taller than the kids in their grade and they’ve spent all summer practicing.

It’s a good game and their team ends up winning by five points. It’s hot as hell even in May and his shirt is sticking uncomfortably to his skin so he peels it off. He uses it to scrub at his sweaty face and doesn’t notice the chatter dying down until he’s finished.

“What?” Steve says when he realizes everyone but Tommy is staring at him. There’s something in their eyes that he doesn’t like, something mean but he doesn’t know how to describe it.

Andy Miller is the ringleader of the junior high kids so he’s the one to say something. “You a queer, Harrington?”

It’s the first time he ever hears the word but it won’t be the last. He doesn’t know what it means but Miller hurls it out, face twisted up.

“What?” Steve says again because he’s never been quick on the uptake.

Miller nods at his shoulder and Steve finally realizes they’re all staring at his mark.

He doesn’t get why though. It’s not anything special—David Sanders has a mark that looks almost like a dog if you squint and Emily Lewis has what looks like a heart by her elbow—but Steve’s is just a handprint, just like practically everyone else.

“He must be.” Kevin, another one of the junior high kids says. “It’s too big to be a girl's hand.”

Steve’s stomach feels funny, like that time he and Tommy went on the Ferris wheel six times in a row and then ate two corn dogs each. “It is not.”

They say more shit, call him more words that he’s never heard but knows instinctively aren’t nice, but it’s not until they call him one he does recognize that he snaps.

Then Andy calls him a fag and Steve remembers the word from weekly dinners with his parents. He’d heard his dad say it after his mom was done gossiping about those two guys who lived three blocks down. They seemed nice enough but he thought it was kind of funny that they always held hands. He didn’t think people were supposed to hold hands unless you wanted to be called a crybaby. His dad had called them fags and he remembers his mom scolding him (“Honestly Richard, your language sometimes”) but she’d been laughing.

Steve doesn’t feel like laughing now.

Tommy is his best friend so maybe it’s not surprising that he knows what he’s going to do before he does it or maybe there’s just a look on his face. He only gets as far as saying Steve’s name before he’s lunging forward, yelling as he hits Andy Miller right in his stupid smug face.

He keeps hitting him until Tommy and another one of the guys pulls him off him. His hands hurt but his chest hurts too and no one even touched him there.

His friends pull Andy to his feet, blood gushing out of his nose but all he does is knock Steve to the ground as they run away, telling him stay the fuck away from us, queer.

After a moment Tommy sits down next to him. His face is pale and his eyes are wide and Steve wants to say something mean but doesn’t.

“I’m not queer.” Steve says quietly, a lump stuck in his throat.

“I know.” Tommy says and helps him to his feet.

Steve bites his lip and pulls his shirt back on. It feels heavier than before. “I’m not.”

“I know.” Tommy says again and then claps him once awkwardly on the arm.

Even later when they fall out, Tommy never brings up his mark. He doesn’t know if it’s the years of friendship or if he’s genuinely forgotten but it’s an act of surprising kindness he never forgets.

The word queer echoes in his head every time he looks at his mark so Steve stops looking at it and it’s a good enough solution as anything else.

It seems to matter less and less when he discovers the magic and weirdness of girls the next year. Tommy’s older brother gives them his old playboys and for his birthday gifts Steve a poster of Farrah Fawcett in a red swimsuit that he spends hours staring at.

Steve watches Superman three times in a row because he can’t get over Margot Kidder’s long dark hair. If his eyes sometimes linger too long on Christopher Reeve—on his biceps and strong thighs then it’s fine, it’s because he’s supposed to. He’s the Man of Steel for Christ’s sake, even the camera focuses on his body a lot.

Movies are one thing but he never lets himself notice stuff like that in real life. Instead Steve falls in love with Tiffany J and Becky L and Marie A and every girl who remotely looks his way but he’s a beanpole and looks more like a scarecrow than Christopher Reeve so they don’t normally look back.

Then freshman year of high school hits and his luck changes overnight. Steve shoots up until he’s almost six feet and this time he fills out with it. Girls stop treating him like he’s a puppy or their younger brother but instead like he’s someone.

It’s the reign of King Steve and it’s perfect even if deep inside there’s that little ache of something he can’t name.

Steve sleeps with a girl for the first time a month into his sophomore year. The basketball team is doing good, real good, and there’s an after party going on at Jack Bryan’s house since his parents are out of town and they’ve got a fully stocked liquor cabinet.

He gets drunk for the first time and the guys on the team clap him on the back and cheer as he does a keg stand.

He discovers he likes the way being buzzed feels and he wants to keep it going but Tommy pulls him away.

“Hey Stevie, I’ve got a surprise for you.” Carol’s clinging to his side like a fucking barnacle and she laughs at him as he pouts about the beer.

“Your surprises are shit.” She laughs even harder at that.

“It’s a good one, I swear.” Tommy and Carol lead him into the living room and there’s a girl waiting for them, for him. He doesn’t remember her name but he vaguely recognizes her from his history class. She’s cute enough with blonde hair and she smells super strongly like bubblegum. Like so overwhelmingly like Dubble Bubble that he kind of wants to know if she bathed in it.

They talk about the game and how Mrs Sheffield is the worst and how much that last test sucked. Tina or Amber or whatever her name is keeps giggling at him as she twists a ringlet around her finger.

Even buzzed Steve’s not stupid enough to not notice a girl trying to flirt with him but she’s not his type so he doesn’t care until Tommy pulls him to the side as the girls go to get shots.

“She’s so into you.” Tommy says as he chugs his beer. “Like super desperate, man.”

Steve shrugs as he glances around at the party, watching as Evan from their team tries and fails at a keg stand. “She’s not my type.”

Tommy makes a disbelieving sound and takes another drink. Over the sound of people laughing and yelling and dancing he can barely make out what sounds like Rick Springfield.

“Maybe you should reconsider your type.” Tommy says at last. “Some of the guys…”

Steve picks at the label on his beer, the corner starting to peel up. He scratches up and then smooths it down. “Some of the guys what?”

Tommy looks uncomfortable, like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Some of the guys have been saying shit about your mark.”

This time he peels the label completely off the bottle.

“I’ve been setting them straight but you know how it is all people do is talk shit in Hawkins.”

Steve nods mutely, and there’s a weird feeling in his stomach but he puts it down as the beer, maybe he’s drunk too much even though he doesn’t feel that drunk earlier.

It’s fine, it’s his first time, he’ll learn his limits later.

King Steve appears and turns on the charm and he leads Tina or Amber upstairs so they can talk more in private. His teammates cheer and the girl laughs breathily and Steve kind of wishes he had another beer.

She tastes like bubblegum chapstick and Miller light but he doesn’t mind kissing so much. He likes kissing girls, likes how soft they are, likes the way they moan beneath him, how he can feel their heartbeat if he rests a hand gently on their neck.

His hands don’t shake as they slip on the condom and the girl, Tina (or Amber) moans and gasps at all the right moments as he fucks her, trying his best to keep a rhythm. Jack Bryan’s musty guest bed creaks beneath them and it almost sounds in time with the music.

He lasts a respectable amount of time (Freddy Smith is still called Five second Fred even though it’s been three years) and she leans her head against his chest, fingers running through the thick patch of hair there.

The room is chilly now that they’re not moving and he wraps an arm around her and when she’s close enough he realizes she doesn’t smell much like bubble gum anymore.

She’s still not his type, no Margot Kidder, but in the stillness of the moment he can admire the freckles on her shoulders and the way her lashes fan against her cheeks.

“First time right?” Tina (or Amber) says, hushed but she could shout it out, he doubts anyone would hear them over the party. He respects the attempt at protecting his ego anyway.

“That bad?”

Tina laughs at him and it’s less giggly now, something more real. It’s cuter, better than earlier and he wonders why she bothered pretending. “No, no you were good. I was just wondering.”

Steve could say something here, could ask why him or what her name even is, but instead he pulls her into another kiss. The chapstick is mostly gone too and it’s easier to keep the kiss going, to focus on her clever tongue and the slickness of her mouth.

She asks if he wants to go again and he can see the way her eyes linger on him, trailing down his chest—his shoulder with interest.

Instead Steve asks if they can do something different and she looks wary, almost afraid at first until he ducks down between her thighs.

He likes this part too. He likes the taste of her in his mouth and the way she pulls too hard at his hair until it’s just on the edge of being too painful. Her moans sound different this time, more—just more and he wants them to keep coming, wants her to keep calling his name. She’s the one to eventually pull away when it’s too much.

When they’re finished she laughs at him again, delighted and kisses his cheek. She steals a pen from the bedside table and writes her phone number out in blocky letters on his hand:call me whenever you want a repeat with the name Tammy and a little smiley face below it.

Tammy leaves first after pausing to carefully fix her ponytail. She gives him a jaunty wave goodbye as she heads back into the party.

Steve catches his reflection in the dresser mirror as he buckles up his jeans. He wonders if he should feel different but he really doesn’t; sweatier maybe. Maybe it’s different for girls.

He’s not normally shirtless this long and his eyes inevitably are drawn to his mark. It’s hard to make out the details in the dark but he’s got it memorized by now; the way it curves over, the thumb print that almost brushes his neck.

Steve doesn’t feel guilty about sleeping with someone that’s not his soulmate. Mrs French in Health class said it was something like only fifty percent of people meet their soulmates though the number goes up the more marks you have. Steve doesn’t feel bad he didn’t wait for some girl in the far off future he might never meet.

He hopes she’s not waiting for him, that she’s happy and having fun wherever she is.

ii.

After that night he’s more careful. He pays attention to his team and the sea of people that hang around them. He doesn’t fuck a girl every time but he doesn’t wait forever either. After the first few times no one says shit about his mark and instead they tease him about his girls, jokingly asking if he’ll leave some for them.

The first thing he notices about Nancy Wheeler is her eyes. Not how blue they are or how they’re so big it kind of reminds him of a doll but the sharp glint in them when she looks at him. The world looks at Nancy Wheeler and expects softness but there’s something more there, steel he doesn’t expect to find but is drawn to nonetheless.

The second thing he notices is her soul marks. A lot of people get embarrassed about their marks, it’s high school and even the really romantic kids don’t want to think about everlasting love when they’re juggling homework and hormones.

Nancy doesn’t care.

She rolls her sleeves up without even thinking about it as they “study” (ie Steve quizzes her and hopes if he says enough charming or dumb things she’ll grace him with a smile.)

“That one’s from Barb.” Nancy says when she catches him staring one day. He’s not even sure why he’s so interested, most people have them on their arms or hands, but still he keeps glancing back.

She turns over her wrist so he can get a better look. Her skin is so soft beneath his hands and Steve feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to touch her, like he’s not worthy.

“We met in the first grade.” Nancy’s smile turns sweeter. “I said I liked how red her hair was and she made me a friendship bracelet.”

He can see it in his head easily enough—tiny hands reaching out to put it on a dainty wrist and two little girls getting excited as the marks change.

He’s never seen an active mark before in person. In movies sure but it’s darker than he expected, the black looking like night against her skin.

She opens her palm and shows him the other mark, the one that’s only a few shades deeper than her skin. It’s larger than Barb’s mark, an adult instead of a kid. He thinks it’s the kind of mark you’d get from shaking hands.

It doesn’t bother him to see it. Steve already touched Nancy for the first time a month ago when they ran into each other in the hallway.

“I haven’t met mine yet.” Steve offers because she’s quite literally sharing her soul with him.

Nancy arches a brow. “Just the one?”

Most people he knows have more than one. People get them from parents, from siblings, and family friends. Platonic marks and romance and family bonds weaving together like yarn until they’re everything someone could need.

Steve’s always been special.

“Just the one.”

Nancy doesn’t ask to see it and instead they get back to studying. He quizzes her on Shakespeare in a ridiculously bad accent and she laughs so hard that she almost cries.

Steve looks at Nancy with her fierce eyes and sharp wit and falls ass over heels in love with her. He’s never felt this way about a girl, about anyone before. Tommy and Carol tease and then nag him about it but Steve doesn’t care. More than once Steve has to physically bite down on his tongue to stop himself from saying I thought you wanted me to fuck girls.

Nancy is different. Nancy is different then anyone he’s ever met.

Even their first time together feels different. Nancy kisses him and then kisses his mark and there’s no trace of disgust or curiosity on her face. Afterwards she carefully runs her fingers over it as he plays with her hand.

It’s perfect, they’re perfect until it’s not. Until Barb goes missing at his house, until Jonathan fucking Byers ends up being Nancy’s other soulmate, until Steve discovers monsters are real and slugs one in the face like he’s up to bat at Riverfront Stadium.

In the aftermath his face hurts, he can’t sleep, and he has no idea where he stands with Nancy Wheeler.

They eventually get back together but it’s not the same. Nancy is a shroud of grief and anger while Steve is plagued by fear and there’s no easy way to fix it, fix them.

“It’s not fair.” Nancy says once. His parents are gone and he’s not sure what she told hers but she’s spending the night.

Nancy doesn’t often spend the night anymore. She’ll have days where she’s fine and then she’ll catch sight of the pool and won’t come over for weeks. They spend a lot of time at the quarry instead.

Tonight is a good night, good enough anyway. Nancy is curled up in his lap, sweaty and satisfied and something almost like content.

Steve rests his head on top of hers and breathes in the smell of her shampoo. He thinks it kind of smells like strawberries. “What isn’t fair?”

She turns her wrist slightly. “It should be grey right? It’s been months but it’s still...”

The ghost of Barbara Holland haunts all of them every time Nancy so much as dares to wear short sleeves. Bold as it ever was like Barb’s going to walk through the door any second now. He knows that’s something the Hollands cling to. How can Barb be dead if her mark is still there?

It’s the worst kind of hope and no one can convince them otherwise.

For not the first time Steve curses the Upside Down, curses Demogorgons and Gates and government conspiracy bullshit.

Nancy doesn’t cry, doesn’t like tears, but she curls even further into him as he runs a hand up and down her back, careful over the smooth line of her bare spine like maybe if he tries hard enough he can soothe away her hurts.

They go to agonizing dinners with Barbara’s parents and work on college applications and write essays that never amount to anything.

Nancy looks at him in the bathroom at a shitty party and calls him, calls them bullshit.

The two minute conversation with Jonathan afterwards is somehow worse. His eyes sting and his face feels hot and he looks down at Jonathan’s marked hand and the words bullshit bullshit bullshit ring in his ears.

Steve’s never been broken up with before, not really. That first time with Nancy wasn’t so much a break up as a pause but now there’s a year of history and weight and it hurts so much more.

He wants to go home and maybe drink a beer or get some of that good weed Tommy used to talk about from that Munson kid but there’s no time for hurt feelings. It's Hawkins and the world is ending.

Again.

Billy Hargrove beats the shit out of him and he’s lucky it’s only another concussion even if his head spins for weeks afterwards.

His head eventually stops hurting but the rest of him is slower to catch up.

He and Nancy are done for good this time and he knows it’s better but it’s hard to remember that when looking at her, looking at them, hurts so much.

Nancy may not have been meant for him but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love her.

She and Jonathan invite him to sit with them at lunch and it’s so uncomfortable that he only does it once. He spends a lot of time wondering if this is what Jonathan felt like last year. Was it worse for him because they were soulmates? Was it easier because he thought he’d still have a chance whenever Nancy got tired of him?

The kids are a bright spot in comparison to before. He didn’t know them then, not outside of the times he’d stop by the Wheeler house while they played their little dork games.

Now they demand rides to the arcade and the movies, Dustin tries to convince him to read whatever nerd book that’ll change his life, Max says he should learn how to skateboard.

He’s often torn between exasperation and amusement and he thinks this is what it’s like having siblings.

One fine Saturday morning after what has to be a solid five minutes of knocking Steve opens the door to find two of the brats.

“Can you take us to the movies?” Max says. It’s not so much an ask, more so a demand. Lucas stands awkwardly at her side, radiating barely contained hope.

The rest of the munchkins are visiting El and he doesn’t know the specifics but there’s some kind of weird tension between the two. So sometimes Max visits with them and sometimes she does her own thing.

“It’s 9?” Steve’s head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. The product of too much time with his dad’s fancy vodka and not enough water. At the moment he’s got a pretty empty social life. Tommy and Carol are still swarming after Billy and it’s way too soon after the breakup to even think about hanging out with Nancy and Jonathan so his best friend right now is called Tito. “Like in the morning? They do use clocks in California, right?”

Max squints at him. “Movies yes or no?”

“Is there a reason you need my sparkling wit and charm so early?” Lucas fidgets as he looks between the two of them.

“We wanted to go see the Terminator but we needed an adult.” He frowns. “It’s either you or Billy.”

Steve groans. “Can’t you sneak into R movies like everyone else?”

“Steve.” He knows they’re not actually related but he swears Max and Billy have the same exact stare. Maybe she learned it from Ozymandias or whatever.

“Give me five minutes and someone is buying me popcorn.”

Predictably the theater is empty at 9 in the goddamn morning so Steve gets a row to himself further back than the kids.

He’s heard vaguely about it from Dustin so he’s not expecting much besides nerdy science stuff and hopefully something blowing up at some point. What he’s not expecting is the movie starting and the bottom of his stomach falling out.

Oh fuck.

On screen Kyle Reese falls naked out of a crack of blue lightning and Steve can’t look away from his curled up body, the long line of his muscles. He feels like he got punched in the face again.

It’s like 4 minutes out of the entire movie and it keeps repeating over and over in his head. The longer he thinks about it the more he recognizes another feeling buried deep beneath the panic.

It’s not admiration or camera angles or checking out another guy’s exercise routine. It’s not something Steve can ignore or excuse but instead it’s real honest to god attraction.

It’s terrifying.

Max and Lucas dart around him as they rant about the movie, their voices are so high pitched and excited that it all blurs together and makes actual comprehensible words impossible.

Steve glances at the posters lining the hallway, trying his best to subtly scope them out. Is Aidan Quinn attractive? Is Sean Penn? Is Chris Sarandon?

He looks at their smiling perfect faces and desperately wants to feel nothing. Beneath his sweater his mark throbs like a bruise.

It feels like a taunt.

A hand reaches out to prod at him and he can’t help but flinch back. Max and Lucas are staring at him,“We’ve said your name like three times.”

Max is frowning, brows furrowed as Lucas asks if he’s okay.

He manages to fumble out an excuse and it’s only a little bit of a lie when he tells them he feels sick.

It’s not any better at home and he surrounds himself with cases of VHS tapes as he tries to figure out how far this goes. Maxwell Caulfield makes his face burn but Richard Gere and Sylvester Stallone look the same as they did before this morning.

Steve spends hours looking at men in magazines and tv and the results are inconclusive. There’s no rhyme or reason and he doesn’t know how to stop thinking of it now that he’s started.

It’s like that optical illusion thing from elementary school. He’s looked at it one way and it was always just a rabbit but now that someone’s pointed it out all he can see is a duck even if he tilts his head and squints.

He needs more data proclaims a voice in his head that sounds vaguely like Dustin on one of his science monologues.

Steve just doesn’t have all the information yet but once he does everything will make sense and he can go back to normal, whatever that means.

Through very careful fucking observation Steve comes to an absolutely horrifying realization. His taste must be complete garbage or maybe it’s a sign of the apocalypse but he finds Billy Hargrove marginally attractive. As in if you separated Billy from his personality then he could probably be an attractive person with all the tanned muscles and long flowing hair.

Between these observations and his internal freak out Steve notices something he’s never thought about before. Billy has a soulmark and he’s like seventy l (seventy-five?) percent sure it’s a guy’s.

One of the first rules of gym classes is learning to keep your eyes to yourself so it’s not like he means to look at him when they’re showering.

But this is for research, for science, so when he’s washing his hair and he catches a glimpse of Billy’s toned back he doesn’t look away as fast as he normally would.

He’s got one active mark already—wide hands that cup his upper back, a cradle mark from one of his parents probably—but below that, inappropriately low is another mark that’s inactivated.

They could plausibly be girls' hands but Steve can’t help but think of his own shoulder. The too wide palm, the too long fingers.

Besides, the placement a few inches above his ass, just kind of screams guy guy guy.

Steve looks away as Billy turns his face towards the water. He’s in there so long that the water is icy by the time he leaves but his thoughts are still on the same track.

It doesn’t matter, he decides the next day, after seeing Billy shove someone to the floor in order to get the ball hooting and hollering.

Maybe Billy’s soulmate is a guy, maybe it’s a girl with big hands but either way it’s not Steve and even if in some alternate hell dimension where that was true he’d still want nothing to do with him.

He thinks of a plate cracking against his head and the unease in Max’s face when she talks about home and sends a prayer out into the world for whatever poor bastard is stuck with Billy Hargrove.

Further observational studies (ie discrete infrequent staring when he’s brave enough) help him determine that he doesn’t find most guys attractive. Tommy, whether through years of exposure therapy or what, thank god, is attractive in the same way you’d admire a nice painting or an apple pie. Nice enough but you don’t want to fuck it. Most of his teammates register the same; attractive but in a detached sort of way.

His glee is dampened by catching the sun glinting brightly off Jonathan’s hair and his stomach starts squirming. With a calmness he certainly doesn’t feel but desperately tries to attain, Steve shoves that thought deep deep into the caverns of his mind and forgets it exists.

Whatever this is is bad enough without thoughts about the dude who stole his girlfriend and who he’s probably gonna have to save the world with the next time it starts crumbling.

Despite his best attempt at being a scientist the experiments amount to absolutely nothing. At night when he’s alone in his empty house he thinks about Billy’s ass in his basketball shorts or Eddie Munson’s oddly graceful hands as he gives Tommy a baggie of weed and it makes him feel the exact same way that thinking about Nancy’s crinkled little pleased smile or the smell of Amanda Tate’s shampoo as she leans closer to him in English do.

There’s no difference and maybe that’s the part his brain keeps getting stuck on because there has to be a difference. It’s too fundamental, too dangerous of a thought to not be different.

It’s easier to shove everything in a box as he gets closer to graduation. He can’t figure it out but he also can’t figure out geometry and he’s got a final coming up so who cares.

He and Nancy and Jonathan have entered into something almost like friendship. It’s not as easy as before and sometimes Steve is terrified he’s going to forget one day and swing his arm around Nancy’s shoulder and then Jonathan’s going to hit him again.

Billy and his tagalongs leave him alone. Billy says shit in the hallways, calls him a pussy or pathetic, but it’s the kind of stuff he says to everyone. Sometimes Steve’s afraid someone will look at him and shout queer! but so far no one has spontaneously developed mind reading powers so he might be safe.

Gradually the alarm of his new discovery dulls into something that only makes him uncomfortable most of the time.

At some point Steve comes to a realization that if they’re actually the same—if it’s really Jonathan and Nancy and Billy and Amanda—then he can make a choice.

Steve doesn’t have to be like those guys his dad called fags when he was a kid or the people who Emily Lewis so matter of factly says are going to hell.

He can be normal.

Steve can flirt with girls and fall in love with them and he doesn’t have to look at boys because he doesn’t need them.

For once in this shitty fucking town Steve can have some normalcy.

iii.

Steve goes into summer feeling hopeful. Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids attend his graduation even if his parents don’t (“Sorry sweetie, the travel from Tokyo to Indiana is just awful right now. We’ll celebrate when we get back”) but they cheer more than loud enough to make up for their absence.

He spends the first while just existing, basking in the knowledge that he’s free of high school even if he isn’t free of Hawkins.

Eventually the kids drag him to the pool because they need a ride and normally he’d say hell no but they only go on the days Billy has off so it’s fine.

The sun is making him sleepy so Steve sprawls out in a chair as he watches the boys try to drown each other in the deep end. Max and El sit next to him in their own chairs since El’s not an amazing swimmer, Max hanging out as moral support and he’s glad to see they’re getting along.

Eventually he feels eyes staring at him and Steve hums. “It’s probably weird to you right? Since you’ve got so many?”

El looks away from his mark and glances at Max like she’s not sure if this is something she’s allowed to ask.

“Is it really just the one?” Max asks instead and that’s got to be close to what El wanted because she looks back at him expectantly, curiosity clear in her eyes.

Marks decorate up and down their arms like leopard spots. In the water he can make out the same ones on the boys.

The first time he saw Mike in a t-shirt, Steve was so surprised he thought he was being abused. It was so startling that the idea of soulmates never even popped into his head until he remembered Nancy with that gun and realized there was no way she’d let anyone lay a hand on her brother.

In his defense he’s never seen anyone with that many marks before or since. Out of all of the Party El has the most, with an extra three that she never talks about, but even Max and Mike with the least are still alarming at first glance.

Sometimes Steve wonders why he doesn’t match with any of the Party or Jonathan and Nancy. If he’d just come too late or hadn’t done enough to have it forged on his soul. He loves them and he’d die for them but at least on the outside it’s not enough.

“It’s just the one.” Steve confirms.

“Do you think you’ll meet him soon?” El asks kindly. He doesn’t flinch just because it’s El and her grammar is always so proper, always different compared to the rest of the kids.

Him’s the default, isn’t that what they teach in class these days?

She doesn’t mean anything by it.

Max picks at her nails as she looks between them but doesn’t say anything. It’s different with kids, with platonic bonds. She must know enough of the world from her stepdad and Billy to get that.

“I’m not in a rush.” Steve stretches, enjoying the last bit of sun on his shoulders before pulling his shirt back on. The mark itches beneath the fabric but it’s bearable.

He messes up El’s hair and then tries to do the same to Max but she manages to dart away scowling. “Hey shitheads! If you want to make it to that movie we’ve gotta hurry.”

His parents come home a month after graduation and they take him to Indianapolis for the weekend, a silent gift that no one acknowledges because that ruins the game of perfect family. His dad plays golf and his mom goes to fancy spas and Steve roams the city on his own.

Indianapolis is different enough from Hawkins that it’s like stepping into China or Spain. Steve's an old hand at traveling though so it’s not too bad. He spends the first day sightseeing; gathering souvenirs for the Party and Jonathan and Nancy, all the tourist-y bullshit.

The second day is where he really gets to explore. When he was younger his parents would let him take Tommy on trips and they’d go cause whatever trouble they could find. Getting a fake ID at fifteen opened up all sorts of doors that he’s more than willing to try now.

Hawkins has precisely one bar in it and it’s run by Bill Dodge who’s old enough to know everyone so fake ID’s never work.

The bars in Indianapolis are like a whole new world. They’re bright and packed and pounding with music and it’s exactly what Steve wants at the moment.

He ends up dancing with two girls for most of the night. They’re cheerful and funny and they remind him of Nancy but not enough to hurt. They’ve got soul marks on their arms—the way you might get a mark if you hugged someone or pulled them into a dance.

He isn’t sure if they’re a set or not until in between one song and the next they pull each other into a kiss. They laugh at his face and then one, the blonde one, smacks a kiss on his cheek.

They pull him into another dance and the thought of soulmates slips out of his mind.

They drag him from club to club and he follows without protest. It’s good and easy and he ignores it even when his feet start to hurt.

The last club is different but he doesn’t notice until they’re in line. The girls sandwich him between them, chatting about something a friend of theirs has done when he finally starts paying attention. The bouncer lets the next group in and the door opens wide enough that he can see inside.

Girls dance together laughing and men are hugging, kissing and it’s like ice dripping down his spine.

The door opens again for the next group and Steve sees two men. They’re kissing or dancing maybe, there’s one that he can’t make out very well but the other one looks vaguely familiar. Steve squints but it’s just a blur of curly hair and dark clothes.

Either way it’s a sign and Steve disentangles himself from the girls. “I think it’s last call for me.”

The blonde one pouts even as her partner smiles. This time she’s the one to press a kiss to his cheek, patting it affectionately.

“Go at your own pace.” She says kindly. “The club’s not going anywhere.”

He wants to ask how she could tell, how she knewbut it’s the kind of question you don’t really want an answer to.

Steve starts working at the mall because he and his dad get in a fight two weeks after the Indianapolis trip. His dad alternates between barely acknowledging Steve’s existence to picking at every little detail of his life and this time is the latter.

The worst thing about his dad is that he doesn’t yell, he’s never yelled. Richard Harrington breaks down everything wrong with his life step by step without ever rising above a whisper.

Aside from the Party, stopping by for free ice cream or movie access, Robin’s the highlight of his day even if she doesn’t think much of him. She’s funny and cool and she makes fun of him constantly which is hilarious in itself considering how much of a nerd she is.

The mocking increases the longer he strikes out with the girls who come in. It’s partially the outfit (no one can look hot in sailor shorts and that damn hat) but also it’s half hearted at best. It’s not about Nancy anymore, it’s far enough past that he can admit they would have never worked out, but it’s not not about Nancy.

However badly they ended, however much they didn’t fit together it was real. Nancy was more than a fling or just a girl at a party and it would feel like stepping back into being King Steve to do anything less.

Proving that Hell is not just tied to high school the world almost ends again. He wins a fight and then loses a big one and in the back of his mind he’s already thinking about concussion recovery protocols even as he tortured by Russians.

Robin looks at him with teary terrified eyes as she says his name but he can barely hear it over the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

That twisted achy feeling is back but it’s not in just his stomach but his chest.

oh

He knew people existed, people like Robin but they were the neighbors on the street over, the girls at that club, they weren’t someone he actually knew, someone like him.

“Steve, did you OD over there?” She looks so scared and it’s awful because he just saw her face actual Russian torture without flinching.

He thinks about his mark, about Christopher Reeve, and Kyle Reese but the words get stuck in his throat trapped behind his teeth.

He thinks about Andy Miller calling him a fag and the look of disgust on his dad’s face when he saw him shirtless in Indianapolis.

Steve can fight demogorgons and demodogs but nearly every fight with a person has sent him crashing to the ground.

He’s not like Robin or those girls at the club. He’s never been half as brave.

The words get pulled back into the box and instead he cracks a joke about Tammy Thompson’s singing.

Surviving doesn’t feel like winning this go around. Hopper’s dead but the Upside Down likes to grasp out into their world as much as it can— El is left with a black mark and no powers.

Max invites the whole Party to Billy’s funeral but there are so many funerals happening on the same day that Steve only ends up taking El, Will, and Max.

She clings to her soulmates, the boys standing as if on guard around them as El holds onto Max and pets her hair.

He wonders if he’s an awful human being if he doesn’t cry. He feels bad for Max and her mom but even without the whole Mind Flayer ordeal Billy was a terrible person who hurt people.

Maybe that’s what’s the worst part.

Billy doesn’t get to grow up and be better. Billy doesn’t get to be an actual big brother for Max or meet that guy who’ll never have any idea what happened to his soulmate. Billy is forever stuck angry and hurt and terrible at eighteen.

The Party is miserable leading up to moving day, all day hangouts and sleepovers are never enough. Joyce doesn’t want to leave but there’s no jobs and an extra mouth to feed and even soulmates can’t trump bills. She promises to bring them for visits and Steve does the same but it’s paltry at best.

He and Robin get jobs at Family Video and get closer, until it’s at the point where when the store is empty she’ll talk about this girl at the pool she thought was cute or which of their featured movie leads was hotter (“Are you out of your mind? In what world—in what universe is Jennifer Beals hotter than Rebecca De Mornay.”)

Robin seems happier with someone to talk to and admits as much when they’re being gooey. Steve thinks about doing the same but it’s impossible. He’s already made his choice and the fact that Robin isn’t totally miserable being queer doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be.

Out of the kids he sees Dustin and Lucas the most. Dustin because he’s running buck wild with the idea of free movies and Lucas because he’s decided he wants to try out for the basketball team in the Spring.

He unashamedly spends five minutes begging and pleading for Steve to help him practice so now every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday night is devoted to layups, passes, and free throws. Robin and Dustin show up on Saturdays to mock and boo them. Mike shows up after a while but that first part of the year gets devoted to a lot of letter writing and long distance phone calls to El and Will.

Despite their best efforts Max starts to pull away and Steve is torn between giving her space and dragging her into a hug. He takes her to the cemetery and the skate park a lot but she’s made it clear it’s the kind of deal where the second he asks about her feelings she’s out. Lucas spends a lot of basketball practices thinking out loud and worrying about her but never asks for advice (he’s not even sure what he’d say so it’s probably a good thing.)

In between the practices and the movie sessions a name starts to pop up.

“Eddie Munson? You guys are hanging around with Eddie Munson?” Steve says in disbelief.

From the front seat Robin practically cackles as Dustin frowns.

“Yeah he’s our DM, what the hell is wrong with Eddie?”

He has the kind of stubborn look on his face that he gets on days when Steve’s self esteem is particularly low and he starts feeling depressed about his life. It’s usually followed by a forty-five minute rant of how great of a person he is.

It’s not even seven thirty in the morning and he hasn’t had coffee yet. A patented Dustin Henderson rant sounds like torture.

“It’s nothing, he’s fine. I’m just surprised that’s all, he was there in my year.” It’s also because Eddie’s one of the biggest weed dealers around but as long as he doesn’t sell to Steve’s kids then he doesn’t give a fuck.

“Eddie’s a cool guy.” Dustin says mulishly.

“Okay, okay I get it. Eddie Munson is a cool guy.” Steve snaps. Robin laughs again as Dustin stomps out of the car.

“Jealousy isn’t a cute look, dingus.” She playfully knocks his shoulder as she gets out.

It’s like from then on Eddie Munson is the recurring soundtrack in his life. Eddie’s the greatest DM, Eddie can play like a thousand songs on the guitar, Eddie wears a leather jacket.

It’s nonstop Eddie Munson Eddie Munson Eddie Munson and Steve wants to scream.

iv.

With work and the kids (near and far) Steve doesn’t think about his soulmark often. He lives his life and takes care of his friends and saves up his money for some as yet undetermined purpose and if sometimes he thinks about going to that club in Indiana just to see if he can get it over with well then that’s his own private thought.

He never thinks of his mark so he’s never thought of what it would be like. He’s never asked Nancy or the kids what it felt like and he’s always thought it would be memorable. That whoever it was who grabbed his shoulder would touch it and it would feel like the world shifted or something.

Realistically Steve shouldn’t expect anything in his life to be that easy.

It’s not until after he gets reacquainted with the infamous Eddie, watches Max and Nancy almost die in front of him, and narrowly avoids another fucking concussion that he even notices.

In his defense it has been a very very busy day. Steve’s cleaning up the best he can in Hopper’s shitty cramped bathroom when he sees it.

His sides are the worst, literal chunks missing, and isn’t that a fun new experience but his chest and back are made up of road rash and bruises and putting a bare shirt against them is just asking for trouble.

So Steve picks out chunks of dirt as he and Nancy take the first watch. He’s nearly done with the last bit left on his shoulder when he finds a stain that won’t go away.

He must make a sound but he doesn’t know what but he must have because Nancy steps into the bathroom, hands wrapped around her gun. Is it weird that he thinks this Nancy is the most familiar—hair a mess, covered in dirt, with fire in her eyes—the most beautiful?

“Steve?” Nancy looks him up and down and he can pinpoint the exact moment she figures out what’s happened because her eyes get wide like a looney tune.

She opens her mouth and Steve pulls her into the bathroom before she can spill his secret to the world.

“What the hell.” Nancy says softly as she uncocks her gun and sets it on the counter. One of her tiny hands reaches up to touch the mark but she pauses a fingers’ length away. Steve leans into it, closing the space between them as she touches it carefully.

Steve closes his eyes and leans back until his head is against that damn mirror.

“It’s Eddie.” Steve says quietly, he can hear the kids snoring in the background, Robin’s raspy little murmurs in her sleep. “I’m pretty sure it’s Eddie.”

He’s loved Nancy Wheeler for years. Maybe it’s not the same as it was the first time he saw her with her fuzzy sweater and chemistry book but it’s love all the same.

The idea of her looking at him like his dad, like Tommy, and Andy Miller, is unbearable.

“Oh Steve.” Her hand traces his mark one last time and then there’s the whisper of her sleeve as she cups his cheek. “It’s okay, I promise it’s fine.”

He opens his eyes and Nancy’s smile is just as kind as ever.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Nancy says in that same low voice. “But it’s okay if it does.”

Steve looks at her and then he follows her gaze down to that little ring of fingerprints around her wrist. For the first time he wonders if he was wrong about her and Barb. Platonic he’d thought, childhood best friend, everyone said but maybe even they hadn’t known. Sixteen is an awfully young age to decide anything.

“Does Eddie know?” She’s even quieter now, her voice little more than a whisper.

Steve shrugs and then winces, immediately wishing he hadn’t. “I don’t know, everything’s happened so fast but his should be on his palm right? So maybe he just doesn’t care?”

“From personal experience I can say when you’re dealing with fucked up shit soulmates aren’t even the first or second thing you’re thinking about.” As if to emphasis her point Nancy wiggles her fingers at him, Jonathan’s mark as noticeable as ever.

Steve gives a jerky nod and Nancy looks down at his mark again. “You should tell him, when all this bullshit is over. Even if it doesn’t mean anything, he deserves to know.”

She gives him a stern little look, strong jaw tucked and fierce and Steve laughs even though it kind of hurts with how sore his throat is.

“Who am I to go against the great Nancy Wheeler?”

Nancy rolls her eyes and she’s smiling that smile, one of his favorites, the you’re an idiot Steve Harrington but I like you anyway smile.

“I wasn’t lying,” Steve says as soon as a thought occurs to him. He deliberately shrugs his marked shoulder. “Whatever this is, I really did love you.”

Her smile is sweet and sympathetic but there’s nothing patronizing about it. “I know.”

“I do love you Nance.” Steve says and he’s not worried about being misunderstood.

“I love you too, Steve Harrington.” Nancy pats him affectionately on the chest. “Come on let’s get you wrapped up before you start bleeding all over Hopper’s floor.”

Steve looks down at the floor—the fine layer of dust and dirt, the moths fluttering by the light—and then back up at her with a grin. “Why you think I’m going to ruin the decor?”

Nancy rolls her eyes but she still helps him wrap up his chest so he counts it as a win. The living room is still as they walk back in. The kids are curled up on El’s old mattress that they drugged out there earlier and Robin is tucked into a little ball on the couch. He’s not used to watching out for Eddie yet, so it takes him a minute to find him in the dark. He’s in Hopper’s old chair and maybe it could be considered restful if it wasn’t for the grimace on his face.

“Eddie or Robin?” Nancy whispers and laughs quietly as he steps over to the couch. She says something that might be ‘chicken’ as she goes to wake up Eddie.

Robin groans but waves him off as she sits up and stretches. “Holy shit how old is this couch, this might be the worst thing I’ve ever felt.”

Eddie is a deeper sleeper than Robin but he springs awake when Nancy shakes his shoulder. Steve takes the spare second to look over at him as she calms him down. To be honest he’s never given much thought to Eddie Munson. Back in school he was the weed guy who occasionally got invited to parties but never stuck around.

Tolerated but not cool, not a part of the King Steve kingdom.

Now before today he was still the weed guy who plays dungeons and dorks with his kids.

In either context Eddie Munson is never someone he’s considered for more than a second. Still there’s something that could be considered charming about his twitchy energy and Steve’s aware enough to admit that he likes his hair, thinks it’s pretty if guys are allowed to be pretty (maybe that’s a thing he should check with Robin.)

He’s not like Kyle Reese or Billy Hargrove but maybe that’s a good thing, maybe that’s okay. Nancy Wheeler wasn’t like any of the girls before either.

Once again the fate of the world hangs on the shoulders of El Hopper and he’s never been more happy to know someone in his life.

Four for four El beats the odds and defeats a creepy monster from another world.

The kids clamber around their other halves, yelling and screaming loud enough to challenge the sound barrier. Mike and Will check over Max as Dustin and Lucas try to encourage El, saying her hair isn’t that bad, it’ll grow back so fast.

Nancy tugs him over to greet Jonathan and his friend who’s a pleasant dude named Argyle. Behind him he can hear Dustin hissing something to the rest of the Party and he doesn’t even want to know.

World ending disaster averted, he’s allowed at least a fifteen minute break from babysitting duties.

The whispering increases as Nancy pulls Jonathan into a kiss. Jonathan laughs and when they break apart he claps Steve on the back.

It’s jarring enough that Steve flails almost falling over and Nancy punches Jonathan on the arm.

“Did you seriously lose another fight?” The expression on Jonathan’s face shifts between disbelief and amusement. “Should we get you boxing lessons for Christmas?”

“I will end you Byers.” Steve threatens with a laugh. “I don’t care that you came all the way from California, I’ll kick your ass.”

Jonathan grins, “Because that went so well for you the first time?”

By mutual agreement everyone heads back to Steve’s to get food and somewhere more stable than Hopper’s old cabin to rest.

The California crew are awake long enough to eat an impressive amount of pancakes before crashing in the middle of Steve’s living room as the rest of them try to process the day.

He badgers Nancy into eating a few before she goes and sits by Jonathan, pulling his head into her lap. She’s asleep within minutes, leaning precariously against the wall.

Without much option after finishing breakfast Steve squeezes into the empty space between Robin and Eddie on the couch. The kids are trying to catch each other up and Steve just wants to sleep for like the next three days but at least they’re all safe.

“Sorry about that.” Robin says quietly.

“Hmm?” If he tilts his head back just right then it actually helps relieve the pressure on his throat. It’s almost comfortable enough for a nap.

“I think she’s talking about our favorite intrepid reporter.” Eddie says just as lowly, this close his voice sounds deeper, like surround sound.

Steve cracks open an eye. “Nance? What about her?”

Above his head Robin and Eddie trade looks, he can feel the like psychic waves of intense communication. “There’s nothing going on with us. There never was.”

They trade skeptical looks and Steve rolls his eyes. “I’ll be back.” Steve pats Robin on the back and then after a second messes up Eddie’s hair just because he can.

Some of the Party glance up at him as he weaves his way through the crowd but most of them are in their own little worlds.

The backyard is refreshingly quiet as he clambers onto a lawn chair and gives himself five minutes for a cigarette.

He’s looking up at the sky and trying to remember which set of stars is supposed to look like a bear when he hears the sliding door.

“Is this seat taken, my king?” Eddie gestures at the lawn chair next to him with a flourish and Steve snorts, waving him off.

Eddie fiddles with a lighter, rings glittering underneath the overhead light, and because it’s bugging the shit out of him Steve finally has to say, “Does that look like a bear to you?”

“What?”

Steve points vaguely in the direction he thinks the bear star is in. “Jonathan, Nancy, and I went camping once and he taught me about some bear constellation that’s supposed to be that way but I can’t figure out if that’s a bear or not. It kind of looks like a lizard.”

Eddie laughs surprised and then shakes his head. “You know, the last time I saw you before all this Tommy H was calling Byers a queer and you got your face beat in and now you’re camping pals.”

“I’ve also been to his thanksgiving dinner. His mom sends me Christmas cards.” Steve says just to see if it’ll make Eddie laugh again pleased when he does. There’s a tiny piece of him that’s proud he could do it.
He tries not to focus on it too much. It’s a nice laugh though, squeaky and real.

“So how do you go from King Steve to Christmas cards?” Eddie’s twitchy, feet tapping against the pavement but Steve’s starting to think it’s less because of the adrenaline and more just who he is.

“Honestly? All of this stuff.” Steven says, glancing over at the pool. “Earlier you were talking about running away but I did the same thing. I was scared shitless and I almost left Nancy and Jonathan to face a demogorgon by themselves. I guess it’s hard to give a fuck about prom after that.”

“Does it get easier?” Eddie asks quietly. “Not just the monster killing bit but after.”

Steve squishes his cigarette against the pavement. The kids are quieter in the house, he can hear maybe one or two of them but it’s far enough away that he can’t tell who.

“Eventually, yeah.” Steve smiles at him, tries to be as reassuring as he can be. “It’ll get easier to sleep and you’ll get less jumpy until it’ll feel like everything was one crazy dream.”

It’s the kind of thing he’s always wanted someone to say to him after every time. It’s what he’s always thought would be reassuring. Over the summer Dustin made him read Lord of the Rings and it’s like what that little hobbit says ‘even darkness must pass.’

From this angle when Eddie looks over, half of his face is shadowed but it’s enough to see the important things—the way his hair wildly frames his face, the sharp lines of his jaw, how dark his eyes are.

“Is it too soon to talk about this?” Eddie asks and casually flails out his ring bedecked hand. It’s the first time he’s seen his own mark and he’s surprised how far it goes, a deep black stain almost all the way down to Eddie’s wrist.

Steve clears his throat. “No, we can talk about it now.” He pulls down the collar of his shirt for a moment, figuring fair’s fair.

Nancy’s the only one who’s seen it so far but the way Eddie looks at it feels different somehow even if he has no idea how to explain it.

“You know I think about two-thirds of Hawkins High would claw my actual eyes out to have the Steve Harrington as their soulmate.” Eddie says thoughtfully and then waggles his eyebrows.

Steve laughs. “Two-thirds? Seems awfully low.”

“You seem shockingly accepting of all this.” Eddie says as he rests his head on his arms. “Like a lot less heterosexual freak out than I was expecting.”

He looks over at the pool again, watching the surface bubble and shine under the night sky. “Is it a cop out to say it’s complicated?”

There’s another silver quick grin there and gone in an instance. “Yes, my liege but I’ll allow it just this once.”

“So what happens now?”

Eddie stands up and stretches before holding out a hand. It’s funny, he’s spent so much time thinking about that hand’s mark on his skin that he’s never thought about the real thing. Eddie’s hand is big like the imprint but covered in chunky rings and chipped black nail polish.

Steve grabs it and lets himself be pulled up. Eddie’s hand is warm in his and he feels a lingering brush against his skin before he lets him go.

“Whatever happens now is up to you, bud.” Eddie lazily looks him over. “We just saved the fucking world, you’ve got time to figure it out.”

v.

Normalcy lasts for like maybe four more days before Jonathan finally gets in contact with Joyce who’s at the American embassy in fucking Finland with Hopper (???)

There’s a lot of screaming and tears and even though spring break is officially over Joyce asks if the kids can stay in Hawkins until they get back in the country.

The Party takes over his house, even the ones who live here. There’s one night where it’s just him and Robin, everyone else out at a game or playing the dragon thing, and Steve takes the opportunity for some time without a dozen (lovable) people in his space.

They watch Footloose and Friday the 13th and Robin pauses halfway through just as Jason’s about to get some poor camper.

“Are you okay?” Robin says and she must be serious because she’s set down the popcorn. “I feel like you’ve been out of it since the whole Vecna thing and you didn’t make fun of Ren McCormack at all.”

“I have something to tell you.” Steve says and then when Robin stares at him expectantly realizes this is the part where he’s supposed to actually say meaningful shit and express his feelings.

The words—all of them, anyone of them—get stuck in his throat and he has to clear it at least twice before he can manage to make a sound and it comes out more like a cough than any word.

“Steve?”

Steve sighs and just mutters, fuck it, before pulling down the collar of his shirt. “Eddie and I are soulmates.”

Robin’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open just a little bit, it’s quite possibly the first time in her life she’s ever been struck speechless.

He tugs his shirt back into place, smoothing over the fabric for lack of anything else to do. Maybe that’s why he and Eddie are a set, they’re both pretty fidgety.

“Are you guys dating?” Robin asks after a moment when she’s had time to process and it’s thoughtful but not prying.

“We’re friends. Right now just friends.” It’s interesting being friends with Eddie. It’s more like the Robin/Dustin side of the spectrum than Jonathan/Nancy but even then there’s something inexplicable about it. Eddie is 100% one of a kind.

“Back at Starcourt when you told me I wanted to say something but I couldn’t.” Steve says quietly. “I still really can’t.”

“Until the second after I told you I wasn’t convinced I’d be able to say it.” Robin reaches out and grabs his hand. “I was so fucking scared.”

Steve smiles at her, “Me too.”

It’s better—easier having Robin on his side. She answers all his dumb queer questions without the slightest hint of judgment. (“What? Yes it’s fine to think Eddie’s hair is pretty.” “It’s okay if you don’t think Richard Gere is hot I don’t either.”)

Eddie weaves in and out and around his daily life. He stops into the store sometimes and mercilessly joins forces with Robin in mocking Steve’s lack of movie taste. He looks over Steve’s mixtape collection in disbelief and then drags him to the music shop the next day.

He boldly and badly flirts with Steve sometimes but he does the same to Robin and Nancy so it’s easier to accept. He waits but that familiar ache in his stomach never happens.

Sometimes Steve lets himself think about it.

The queer thing has always been so abstract—guys in action movies or people in real life like Billy and Jonathan who were unattainable (for very different reasons)—but suddenly it’s real.

If Steve wanted to, he could kiss a guy like right now.

He thinks maybe it should feel scary or uncomfortable. That pit of desire followed by his own disgust and discomfort but it doesn’t.

So sometimes Steve looks at Eddie and lets himself wonder, tries to picture it in his head.

It’s still not enough, not a sure bet so Steve doesn’t bring it up yet but he starts thinking about it a lot.

Things are at a standstill until he starts getting roped into Eddie’s dweeby game night.

“Think of Henderson’s face.” Eddie pleads like actually pleads crouched down on his fucking knees. “He’d lose his shit if you just hung out and watched.”

Robin laughs at them as she starts piling up the returns.

Steve stares at him for a moment and then sighs. “I’m allowed to make snarky comments and call you nerds.”

Eddie cheers, jumping to his feet and fist bumping. In addition to his rings he’s got on some necklaces and they jingle as he bounces in place.

“Why do I hang out with you again?”

“Because you’re stuck with me, baby.” His grin is bright and carefree and it’s not a you’re an idiot Steve Harrington smile but it feels pretty damn good either way.

Dustin does indeed lose his shit when the Party strolls into Eddie’s trailer to see Steve sitting on his couch, flipping through the latest issue of Spin. His smile gets a little wider when he sees Max is with them.

Steve tries his best to pay attention but it’s like starting a movie halfway through and he’s clearly missing something because the kids gasp and yell and he’s got no idea why.

It doesn’t help that Eddie steals his attention most of the time, he’s good at being charismatic and impressive and it’s easy to laugh as he whips out a tiny toy of some kind of snake monster that has the Party groaning.

They call a timeout as they stop to grab some snacks (and plan out how to stop Eddie from crushing them) and Steve gets up and wanders over to get a better look at the little figurines.

“Having fun sweetheart?” There’s some bigger monster behind Eddie’s little cardboard divider but he thinks it’s meant to be a surprise so he doesn’t mess with it.

Instead Steve turns and laughs when he sees Eddie, mouth stuffed full of chips and cheeks puffing out like a hamster. “Oh definitely, you sure know how to show a guy a good time.”

Eddie gracelessly swallows his chip bounty in one go which Steve should probably not find impressive but does anyway. “Oh come on, I saw at least one smile over there. Is King Steve actually interested in our little game?”

Steve shrugs and smiles at him. “It’s not the worst thing.”

Eddie pats him once on the shoulder, palm barely brushing over the mark before turning to the rest of the Party. “Did you hear that? We’ve received the highest of praise from our liege lord.”

“I can still knock this table over.” He tries to look stern but he can’t stop laughing so it’s pretty pointless. “One kick and there’s all your hard work gone, Munson.”

“Steve if you kick over this goddamn table before we fight the Titanboa, I will haunt you for the rest of your life.” Dustin threatens and Steve abruptly returns to the universe where there’s more than just him and Eddie in the room.

For the next half hour he pretends the in-depth interview with Madonna is the most engrossing article he’s ever read in his life.

The tittyboo is vanquished at the last moment when the group is down to only Max and Will. Eddie dramatically topples his figurine and the Party cheers. Eddie’s answering smile isn’t disappointed at all but proud.

Steve looks between Eddie and his kids and thinks, oh fuck.

vi.

“I’m not understanding the problem here.” It’s a day where thankfully Robin is the only one he’s driving to school and Steve’s fully exploited this chance to try to make sense of his feelings by seeking superior wisdom.

“What don’t you understand?”

“Eddie’s your soulmate wouldn’t it be kind of sad if you didn’t at least like him a little bit.” Robin sounds like she’s talking about the goddamn weather. Like oh it’s sunny out and did you hear Steve Harrington likes another man, it might rain tomorrow.

Robin glances over at him and then sets down her flash cards with a sigh. Fingers crossed the karmic forces of the universe appreciate this sacrifice because Mrs Sheffield sure won’t. “I thought you were feeling better about this.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, he’d care about ruining it any other day but he‘s spent the last twenty minutes in the car waiting for Robin and can already tell it’s a loss.

No hair victories for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington today.

“Steve?” She leans over and squeezes his arm. The skin by her thumbnails has been shredded since everything with Vecna because she picks at it when she’s nervous. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know how to ask out a guy.” Steve considers the interior of the car with great interest. His face feels hot. “What if I fuck it up?”

Robin laughs not unkindly. “How would you fuck it up?”

“I don’t know, what if I like bring him flowers and mortally offend him?”

She laughs again. “I don’t think Eddie’s offended by flowers.” Robin’s smiling when he dares to look over at her.

“It’s okay to be nervous, it’s new. People are always scared by new but I don’t think you have a reason to be.”

“Yeah?”

“Eddie’s totally crazy about you. But you told me he said the ball was in your court or whatever so I don’t think he’ll be the one to make a move.”

Robin pats his arm and starts gathering her stuff. “Be brave, dingus.”

So the next time Eddie stops into Family Video Steve asks him if he’d want to go get a burger afterwards.

Eddie pauses in the middle of his in depth explanation about the difference in heavy metal subtypes (Steve’s already heard it twice) to stare at him, head cocked to the side in confusion which is probably because Steve just blurted it out of fucking nowhere.

He stares so Steve stares back and tries his best charming smile.

It’s kind of unfair he’s got such big eyes for a guy. Long lashes too. It’s like if Bambi and Mick Jagger had a baby.

After the most agonizing silence of all time Eddie agrees. He shakes his head smiling as if in wonder before launching right back into an example about glam metal and thrash metal.

Dating a guy doesn’t turn out to be much different than dating a girl was. He doesn’t know if that’s the case for everyone or if it’s just something about Eddie.

The biggest difference he’s noticed so far is with kissing. Eddie’s lips are still soft but he can feel the drag of stubble against his skin (he thinks about that stubble in other places too.) They’re about the same height so it’s a mind bend to not have to lean down—make out sessions that day involve a lot more laughter when Steve keeps catching himself leaning too far down mid kiss. His hands are different too, big and long and with a kind of weight to them he’s not expecting. It’s weird to get used to at first but not weird in a bad way.

The one kissing downside is also probably the height. It’s way easier to fit on a couch with someone Nancy’s height than two fully grown men but they’re giving it their best shot.

“What time is your dungeons and dancers session?” Steve asks when Eddie breaks away to start kissing at his neck instead. His thumb strokes soothingly over his collarbone, skirting closer and closer to Steve’s mark at every pass.

Eddie laughs against his skin, stubble carefully scraping against his neck. “I know you know what it’s called.”

The kiss turns into a bite and Steve groans, leaning his head even further back against the couch and tilting his neck forward. Eddie pats his thigh in gratitude and sucks at it harder.

“It’s supposed to start soon but the brats are always late.” Eddie smiles down at him and then graciously does another kiss-turned-bite on his neck. “You think I have enough time to suck you off?”

Steve laughs because it’s that or you know ravish Eddie on the couch he has to sit on three to four hours every week for the foreseeable future, “You wish, Munson.”

He grins mischievously and a big hand sneaks down his body groping at his thighs. “Oh I don’t just wish it, I dream it, baby.”

Steve laughs again and pulls him back into another kiss. It’s easy to get lost in the warm weight on top of him. Eddie runs hot so hot and having him in his lap is enough to make him dizzy sometimes. Eddie groans when Steve winds his hands through his hair and pulls tugging just that side of painful.

“What the fuck Eddie.” Steve’s so surprised that he bites down hard on Eddie’s lip and he winces as he pulls away, rubbing at his mouth.

Eddie’s blocking most of his view but he can see several pairs of legs from here, all in scuffed up sneakers.

“Ow fuck, I think you split my lip.” Eddie complains but he’s still smiling so it can’t be too bad. He looks away and begins to frown, “Why did you guys have to pick today to be on time?”

“We can go away for a few minutes if you want to…finish up with your friend.” Will offers awkwardly and he knows Dustin and Mike are about to blow a gasket so Steve sits up, shoving Eddie gently off his lap.

The screech of his name could easily deafen dogs and break glass but it’s kind of worth it for the dumbfounded looks on their faces.

They start shouting questions and Eddie starts explaining (or teasing, it’s hard to tell), his hands flying about as he gestures. Steve catches sight of his mark, black and true, on Eddie’s palm as he gets more energetic, more into what he’s saying.

Steve laughs loud and happy, completely at peace for what’s possibly the first time ever.